Maya

It's a tough business

2011-09-17T23:25:00.000-05:00

Article no. 18 for The Smart CEO

Tough Business

In the spotlight

2011-09-17T23:21:00.000-05:00

Article no. 17 for The Smart CEO

Niche Mainstream

Small budgets Big Returns

2011-06-20T11:42:00.000-05:00

Article no. 16 for The Smart CEO

Small Budgets Big Returns

Pulling off the inside job

2011-06-20T11:40:00.000-05:00

Article no. 15 for The Smart CEO

Pulling Off the Inside Job

The business of doing good

2011-03-27T10:00:00.002-05:00

Article no. 14 for The Smart CEO

The business of doing good

Global content, Indian style

2011-03-27T09:58:00.000-05:00

Article no. 13 for The Smart CEO

Global content Indian style

Good relationships, good business

2011-01-19T23:58:00.001-06:00

Article no. 12 for The Smart CEO. A year's worth of articles done. Sometimes, I surprise myself.

Business Relationships

The lure of lucre

2011-01-03T13:26:00.002-06:00

Article no. 11 for The Smart CEO

The Lure of Lucre

The Antihero

2010-11-23T10:54:00.000-06:00

Article no. 10 for The Smart CEO

The Antihero

Music and Misappropriation

2010-11-14T07:38:00.000-06:00

Article no. 9 for The Smart CEO

I must add a disclaimer that it is personally not a very satisfying article. The theme of this edition was Indovation- innovation in India with a business perspective, and I was kind of constrained a bit more than usual, to align with that theme. Plus work was a major distraction. Yes, I know- excuses, excuses.

Ah well, here you go anyway.

Music and Misappropriation

Of growing crops and cropping growth

2010-09-19T00:59:00.001-05:00

Article no. 8 for The Smart CEO

Growing Crops

Loving India, Inc.

2010-08-17T13:08:00.002-05:00

Article no. 7 for The Smart CEO

Loving India, Inc.

Attaboy Fanboy!

2010-08-17T00:40:00.000-05:00

Article no. 6 for The Smart CEO

Attaboy Fanboy!

Movies for sale

2010-07-17T18:46:00.000-05:00

Article no. 5 for The Smart CEO

Movies for Sale

One up on the underdog

2010-07-12T00:08:00.000-05:00

Article no. 4 for The Smart CEO

Underdog

Lay me off, Lay off me

2010-06-10T23:48:00.000-05:00

Article no. 3 for The Smart CEO

Up in the air

Hirani, Amin and career choices

2010-03-23T22:22:00.004-05:00

My second article for The Smart CEO

Career Choices

CPR

2010-03-20T16:21:00.004-05:00

Its that time again, the time to revive a dying blog, give it the hope of a renewed life, at least until this newfound enthusiasm wanes again. A couple of new pursuits have been keeping me distracted, albeit mildly. One of these is a new blog, one that tries to test the theory that images speak louder than words. Spurred by the delusion that my photography skills are half decent, I present to you:

Frozen in all dimensions

The other is an attempt to expand my writing horizons and try and increase my readership to double digits. Though this was due to an opportunity that was a consequence of who I happen to know and really not how well I write, I shamelessly grabbed it with both hands and a leg too. A good buddy of mine who has moved back to India and started a business magazine wanted me to write articles on entertainment with a business angle. Though this was not entirely up my alley-well actually nothing really is up my alley- I have managed to come up with something for a few issues now. I will try and embed them in their full glossy print glory in this blog. The first of these is a rehash of what I wrote on "Thank you for smoking". I also recommend that you try and get a copy of The Smart CEO. They are doing a fabulous job.(Now will you please let me write for the next edition too?)

The Ethics of Business

The sound of silence

2009-09-25T02:05:00.002-05:00

"Music is life." If I had a penny for every time I have heard someone say this, I would own a much bigger CD collection. If I had to give away a penny every time I thought how true this was, I would be a very poor man. What is it about music that makes it is so unlike any other art form. What gives it the ability to stretch out your heart strings and strum away at them, to make you discover an energy that you never knew you possessed , to move you, to make you see with your eyes closed.
His music is my life. People use a plethora of adjectives to describe his music whereas I need only one- haunting. Strange, you say. But that is the word that best describes what drew me to his work, what kept me captivated. Never are his entire songs haunting, for what fun would that excess be? It is a fleeting few seconds hidden within the minutes, when the barest of human feelings are exposed, on hearing which you wish that the seconds stretch into minutes, the minutes into hours, the hours into eternity. I am rambling senselessly. Am I not? That has always been a problem. I am never able to put my emotions about his music into coherent words, never with the ease with which he puts any emotion into his music. The day I found out a cousin was acquainted with him, I pestered the hell out of him to arrange a meeting, wherever, whenever, however short it would be. Late in the night yesterday, he called and told me he had managed to get me fifteen minutes. Excited incomprehension, dreamlike disbelief, hastily procured last minute train ticket later, I am an hour away from a tick on the list of things to do before I die.

He paused at the gates leading up to the studio. He wondered at the absurdity of this meeting, though he was the one who had asked for it. He was not like he used to be two years ago. Some things had changed irreparably. Would he think he had lost it? Would he be upset at the waste of his time? Or would he be a true reflection of the music he made?

Thinking about it a little more, I think I know just what makes music so unique. It is purely because of how pervasive it is. I wake up to music, listen to it on the radio driving to work, have my headphones on while I work and put my music player in sleep mode and listen to music as I fall asleep. Half my waking hours are spent with music. Its hard to imagine a day without music. I had rather die than even imagine a life without it.

He welcomed him with a big smile, a genuine heart felt expression that blew away his apprehensions. He was as humble as he was made out to be. He had heard about everything from his cousin and he was gracious enough to be neither curious nor sympathetic. He talked mostly about his music as he watched attentively.

The groan of twisted metal was a strange counterpoint to the human wails that rented the air. He slowly stirred to consciousness and immediately sensed that something was amiss. He gradually tried piecing together the events as he recollected them. The train had begun decelerating at an abnormal rate and his rail car had violently shifted off the tracks and toppled over. That was all he could remember. He realized he couldn't move his legs as they were stuck beneath the remnants of his seat. He felt a wetness all over his face, which he guessed was due to blood. He struggled to understand that nagging feeling that something was really odd. He found it puzzling that this was bothering him to a greater extent than the obvious physical pain and discomfort he was under. He noticed the flashlights of the rescue team and screamed out for help. It was at that moment that realization dawned on him. He couldn't hear himself. He couldn't hear anything.

He had made a big list of questions that he wondered why no interviewer asked him, when he was to meet him before. But he didn't feel like asking any of them now. He asked him to speak slower and sit facing him so that he would have an easier time following along. He hesitated a bit and then said

"You must be used to people asking for your autograph or to pose for a photo or two. I don't want any of that. I have a far more outrageous favor to ask. You have already been too kind in bearing with me so far and I may be way out of line here. So please feel free to be rude and refuse. I want you to compose a short piece for me."

Surprisingly, he was not taken aback at this. He smiled that familiar smile of his and nodded his approval, pausing to ask,

"But how can you.."

"Can you play something entirely in bass?"

"I understand."

He walked up close to the state of the art sub-woofer in the studio corner. He knelt down on the ground and placed his hands in front of it . And as he played it, he felt it. Music was his life.

Paranthaka - II

2008-03-17T00:45:00.002-05:00

The story so far...

Arjun sat, sulking and staring out of the window, in the rear seat as his dad weaved his way through the evening traffic and his mom muttered all the prayers she knew. He had made what would register a faint, feeble attempt on the 'arguing with parents' scale, trying to convince them that there was nothing wrong with him and this visit to Srinivas -of whom he had vague recollections of being weirder than what was the average weirdness on his dad's side of the family- was unnecessary. But he knew he was waging a losing battle, especially when his father's temper had registered a couple of revolutions on the 'time to stop arguing with parents' scale.
So there he was, unwillingly on his way to have his mind analysed, even as the day's events loomed large in it. He had more or less convinced his rational self that unbelievable as it seemed, there was something strange about this Karikala character. A phone call to Karthik, followed by ineffective threats of violence, further followed by extremely effective offer of bribes, had gotten a 'i-swear-on-everything' confirmation that he had nothing to do with any prank. Not knowing what to believe, he prepared himself to meet Srinivas.

"So Arjun, what are your hobbies?"

"He reads voraciously. Watches every movie that releases...."

"Lalita aunty, please let him answer. Better still, uncle why don't the two of you wait outside and let me have a private talk with Arjun."

"Okay, now that your parents aren't around, I think we can have a open discussion. So was that your girlfriend in your room in the afternoon?" Srinivas asked with a foolish grin and an even more foolish wink.

"What are you talking about?"

"Arjun. You can trust me. I can understand the things you do at your age...."

"Oh. Please. You won't understand."

"Okay let that be. So what book are you reading?"

"Paranthaka. Its a....."

"Oh! Lovely book. One of Kalki's best works. Ah! The beauty of fiction based on reality. You don't know what is real and what isn't."

"Have you read it?"

"I have read all his books. I am a big fan."

So, there in an instant, for the most unexpected of reasons, all of Arjun's apprehensions about his weird cousin melted away and a trust was born, a trust that made him open out and narrate the incidents of the day. Almost immediately, Srinivas transformed into a nervously excited man.

"Fantastic. This is absolutely fantastic. You don't worry Arjun. I will talk to your parents. I will make them understand."

"You don't think I have lost it? Do you think this Karikala is real?"

"Most definitely. He is as real as real can be. You just wait outside a while and let me talk to your parents."

"I am afraid I have some bad news for you. I have reason to suspect that Arjun has MIMPD. It is a rare condition that has been the focus of my research for the past few years. He looks like a classic case."

"MIMPD?"

"Yes. MIMPD. Media Induced Multiple Personality Disorder. Over the past few years, our literature and movies have been obsessed with the theme of multiple personality disorders. These works have projected MPD in such a way that young impressionable minds have found it to be some sort of a cool thing, so much so that it has the potential to manifest in them. In Arjun's case, he is so involved in the historical novel he is reading, that he has begun to assume an alter-ego as one of the characters in it. Worrying as this may be, it is not all grim. I have been working on treatments for this disorder for a long time. We should get started as soon as possible. But it is important that Arjun does not know of this right now. I don't want to trigger off some extreme behaviour. He has sort of developed a trust in me and that is a good sign. Just act as if there is nothing wrong with him and prepare to get him admitted here in a couple of days."

Arjun welcomed the silence on the way home, although it seemed strange to him that even his mother didn't say a word. An event less dinner followed, and he lay on his bed continuing to contemplate the surreal 'Karikala' episode when sounds of a rather animated discussion drew him to his parent's room.

"I don't like the idea of Srinivas using him as a guinea pig for his experimental treatment."

"Don't be stupid, Lalita! Srinivas is a clever fellow. He knows what he is talking about. Its not easy to get a second opinion for ailments of the mind. Things are so damn subjective. What is abnormal for one might seem normal for another"

"MIMPD! Sounds like something a mad scientist in the movies comes up with. How come we haven't even heard about such a condition?"

"I don't even know how to answer that. Have you heard of every physical and mental ailment discovered? You just have to learn to trust. If Srinivas says he needs treatment, he needs treatment. You think I am not worried?"

Not wanting to hear anything more, Arjun crept back to his room. He was filled with a rage at the gall of that cheap, conniving Srinivas and he kicked himself for falling for his act and trusting him so easily. Even that rage was fleeting as he realized he was enmeshed in a situation with no escape, unless of course he could convince his dad, or convince his mom to convince his dad, that nothing was wrong with him. However, the fact was that the events of the day had left him in a situation where he himself needed some convincing that everything was all right. There seemed no way out but to become a lab rat. No way out, unless......

After vacillating a while between sleeplessness due to mental turmoil and sleep due to mental fatigue, Arjun submitted to the overwhelming force of the latter and dozed off. He awoke in the morning, startled to see his mother by his bedside, staring at him as if he was a new born. She stroked his head and handed him his book.

"Now you can finish it."

He held back a slew of thoughts just before they could come out as words and merely hugged her tight and said "Thanks Mom!", adding a "..for everything." under his breath.

That night, the full moon was fuller than it usually was, which even when interpreted as a hyperbole is too exaggerated even to be imagined.

"Are you ready, my general. My dear Paranthaka, if I may call you that?"

"I don't know. I don't know how to ride a horse,how to wield a weapon, how to defend,to attack, to hurt, to kill. I don't know any form of warfare, how to lead, to command. I don't know anything at all. What if I fail you?"

"It shall all come to you."

"How?"

"You will see. My faith in your destiny is greater than my faith in you."

Arjun, who shall henceforth be known as Paranthaka, neared his steed. He gathered the reins, and after a hesitant instant, effortlessly mounted it as if he had done it all his life. As he rode confused yet confident into the night, into the unknown,into an uncertain future, uncertain if it could even be called the future, his thoughts went back to the unfinished book that had started this all, lying unopened by his bedside. He remembered his mother's words as she handed it back to him, and he experienced a reassuring moment of clarity when he realised their true significance. He would finish it.

THE END

Paranthaka - I

2008-01-20T01:15:00.000-06:00

Arjun sat up straight and buried his face with feverish excitement into the old pages of the book in his hand. The historical novel he was reading had reached its climax. “The battle scene was set, a small Chozha army struggling valiantly to fight off the mighty Hoysalas, trying hard to delay the end of their glorious dynasty. The inexperienced yet determined prince Karikala , guided by the ablest of generals, Paranthaka led the army with great courage. As the two of them were embroiled in warding off swarms of enemy swordsman, a Hoysala bowsman prepared to take aim. The prince was in his sight but Paranthaka was constantly in the way. And then arrived the moment he was waiting for, when Paranthaka lunged forward and out of his line of fire. He pulled back the bowstring in a flash and let the arrow fly. Now, it was not without reason, Paranthaka was the respected warrior he was. His speed, skill and reflexes were quite unmatched and it was his quick anticipation that saved Karikala…..”

“Arjun! Arjun! Are you done with clearing the mess that you call a room? It has been more than an hour since I told you to do that”

Even before Arjun could slam the book shut, his mother entered the room. He tried greeting her with his practiced “no-reply-give-nothing-away" expression of bewilderment and confusion, hoping this would just elicit a second round of room cleaning instructions, sprinkled with a few choice adjectives highlighting his ineptitude, his imperviousness to insults, his despicable laziness and finally the trump card- a threat of bringing the matter to the notice of higher authorities, namely his father followed by a brief description of its disastrous consequences. But he was not to be so easily let off that day. The hawk-eyed observation skills of Mrs. Lalita Shankar were at their best as she noticed the book in Arjun’s hands. Displaying the agility of a hawk (to be confused with the afore-mentioned bird), she swooped on it and snatched it out, as he stood reactionless.

“So this is what you have been doing for the past hour. Now that it is no longer there to distract you, I am sure you can finish your cleaning chore for the day.”

Realizing that silence was no longer an intelligent choice, Arjun screamed “But Mom! Please! I am almost done. I will finish the book in ten minutes and start cleaning the moment I do that. Please don’t take it away”

Mrs. Lalita pondered a while, wondering whether to give in to Arjun with the kindheartedness of a bovine nurturing its calf, or to stand her ground with the ruthlessness of a tigress teaching its cub to hunt. However, being overdosed with animal metaphors, she simply decided to stay faithful to the rules and norms of the pantheon of unreasonable illogical mothers, and deny that ten minute grace period to Arjun with a firm

“No way. If you want this back, you are going to have to earn it. Finish cleaning and come and take it”.

And, she left the room slamming the door shut with a flourish of accomplishment and a smirk of smug satisfaction. Arjun hesitated, thought about using the beg-plead-please-please technique, but the fact that his mother was in her special zone of inexplicable irrationality, made him realize the futility of any attempt to get back his book. So he grit his teeth, clenched his knuckles, took a deep breath, clutched his hair, and desperately tried to drive away the incessant questions that echoed about in his head “What happens to Paranthaka? What happens to Karikala? ”

“Paranthaka is dead. Three cowardly arrows did it. He is dead.”

If this had been a Hitchcock movie, this is when you would have heard the eerie piano chords, followed by a deafening silence and a close up of the startled open-mouthed protagonist. If one were to display a better choice of words and put it more eloquently, this would be the Jajaaaaaaang moment. But this is reality and conforming to it, Arjun took his own sweet time to let the words spoken sink in and as soon as it had, with an unsure smile said

“Karthik? Is that you? Don’t you dare ruin this ending for me! I am warning you! Wait a minute. How did you even know what I was thinking? Was I thinking out aloud again?”

"Karthik? Karthik? Cut the crap man! Come out from wherever you are. Oh! There you are! Bloody idiot!”

Emerging from behind the window curtains, a well built figure stepped out into Arjun’s room.

“Whoa! Who the hell are you? How did you get here? And why are you dressed like that?”

“I am Karikala Chola, blessed son of the great Uttama Chozha, heir prince by birth and humble servant by choice to the glorious Chozha empire.”

After being subject to a veritable barrage of adjectives, Arjun struggled to recall whatever little he remembered of his high school grammar to separate out the subjects, objects, verbs and adverbs and try and make sense of that complex sentence. Once he did that, owing to the fact that he had been the target of one practical joke too many, and the originator of twice as many, he asked the man in front of him,

“Who set this up? Karthik. Must be that dumbass trying to get back for that embarrassing valentine’s day prank call. But I must admit, he has gone through great pains and thought out of his little pea brain to come up with this. Quite impressive. So, are you like a theatre actor or something?”

“Are we not all actors in some way. He pulls the strings and we dance to His whims. Anyway, I do not have much time. Please listen carefully to what I have to say. The wise Rudracharya speaks about the many worlds that exist at the same time, blissfully unaware of each other. I am from one such world and I have come here solely with the purpose of seeking you out. As I told you before, Paranthaka is dead. But all is not lost as our enemies have suffered far greater damages than we have. If we can hold them off for a couple of more days, the armies of two of our vassal kingdoms will join us and then this battle will be ours to win. Rudracharya says it is destined that we need the services of a general to achieve what is written for us and that general is you. Will you fight for me and my people?”

Arjun put on his most serious expression, which was usually reserved for really grave occasions like when his favorite team lost the game, or even worse when Karthik bought his favorite flavour of ice cream, when it was the last one left at the corner shop.

“So are you saying I am the chosen one? The one who can prevent the end of the Chozha empire? Are you really saying that?”

“Yes. Those are the words of Rudracharya.”

“Okay then. Who am I to question destiny especially when it hands me such a great honour? I should grab it with both hands. Go dear king. Go and spread the word that you have found your general, that too an exalted one, one who does not fall for stupid fairy tale fantasy pranks, that he outgrew when he was just ten. Go tell Karthik, that I wish him better luck next time. Hah!”

Karikala broke into a relieved smile. “I do not understand all of what you say. But I understand enough to know that the great Chozha army has found itself a new general. Be prepared to leave tomorrow, when the moon is full. That is the only time our steeds can get us to where we need to go. If we do not leave tomorrow, we cannot leave until the next full moon, and then it would be too late." Speaking thus, he jumped out of the window and was off before Arjun could say anything in response.

It took a good ten seconds for Arjun's emotional state to transition from the euphoria of having the sharpness to spot a prank and skillfully escape being the victim of it, to the realm of doubt and suspicion. The fact that he heard something sounding uncannily like the hooves of a horse hitting asphalt, the moment "Karikala" left compounded things and put him into a state of supreme confusion. A theatre actor, he could believe but a horse, a whole live horse was too much of a stretch for a prank, a prank from someone with Karthik's scheming abilities. Before he could try to comprehend the events that had passed, Mrs. Lalita Shankar rushed into the room with the eagerness of a shark that had smelt blood(simultaneously changing her behaviour pattern to enable the use of aquatic animal metaphors,helping break the monotony of the terrestrial ones)

"Arjun! Who were you talking to? And why haven't you started cleaning yet?"

"Er...Karikala...Horse...Karthik....Er...I was just getting started. I wasn't talking with anybody. No one is here. I wouldn't be talking to myself. Would I?", said Arjun, prudently deciding to conceal the truth till it was clearer to him.

"Karikala? Horse? What is wrong with you? I could swear I heard voices in here."

"Oh Mom! I was still thinking about the novel when you came in. You are imagining things. Just relax and let me do my chore. I need that book back."

Though Mrs. Lalita left the room, she remained unconvinced, and being blessed with the tendency to worry unceasingly about every trivial issue in life, and a knack of making a Mount Everest out of minuscule molehills, she picked up the phone and called Mr.Shankar at his chartered accountancy firm.

"Hello. I am.."

"Yes. Yes. I remember. I will get the brinjals on the way back from work"

"I din't call about that. I called.."

"Hold on a sec. Swaminathan, Get me the files of AGS & Company at once. Yes. What did the idiot do now."

"Don't say that about the poor thing now. I thing something is wrong with him."

"That's what I have been telling you since he was born."

"Please be a little serious. I was a little harsh with him today about cleaning up his room. I walked past his room a little while later and heard voices in his room, two different ones. I walked in and asked him about it and he said it was nothing. He looked really confused as if he had just snapped out of a trance or something. This is exactly like how it was with my grandfather in the village. He started talking to himself and then went completely crazy. Must be hereditary or something."

"Lalita! Stop overreacting as usual. Your grandfather went senile. The rascal is not old enough for that."

"You always disregard my intuitions. Remember the time I thought he had typhoid and you..."

"Okay. Okay. I don't have time for this now. I will take him to my nephew Srinivas for a quick check up in the evening. He seems to be doing well in that little psychiatry set up of his."

"I am coming along too. I am going to the temple now to do a Puja for him"

"I will be home by 6 to pick you up. Don't let him out of the house till then."

I N T E R M I S S I O N

Five things I loved about Dor

2007-08-11T20:19:00.000-05:00

It has been seven months since my last post. It has been an even longer time since I saw and fell in love with Nagesh Kukunoor's Dor. I thought about writing a post on it as soon as I saw it twice in two days, but for no reason, never did. Anyway being the procrastinator I am, it is never too late for anything in my life. So here are five things about Dor that made it my movie of 2006 and also one of my all time favourites.

Death and mourning:
When you lose a loved one, when does your life return to normalcy or more specifically, when is it ok for you to smile, laugh, be happy, have fun? What difference does it make if you mourn for a day or a week or a month or maybe even a year. Is the time really any reflection of your love for the dead? If you take lesser time to recover from your loss, does it mean you love the person any less? It was heartening to see Ayesha Takia's Mira ask the same questions of herself in Dor. It was even more heartening to see her break into that Kajra Re jig in the middle of the desert, forgetting the facade of widowhood for an instant, living her life as she wanted to. That probably answers it all- its never about the time you abstain from happiness, rather its the recurring memories, the melancholy emptiness, the unappeasable yearning you feel all through the rest of your life without the dead that really matters.

Unrequited love:
Everyone raved about Shreyas Talpade's wonderful cameo as the comical Behroopiya. But the most beautiful moment of the movie also belonged to him, when, in a state of inebriation, induced to bolster himself, he reveals how he has fallen in love with Gul Panag's Zeenat. There is realism in the way he expresses himself, fully knowing the futility of it all, there is a rare dignity in Zeenat's response, and there is great mirth when this heavy moment is swiftly brushed aside by him beginning to repeat himself.

The clichés and the not so clichés:
There are many things in Dor that suffer from the predictability that afflicts Indian cinema. By the way, that is more of an observation and less of a complaint. You know that Nagesh's character is going to take that ugly negative turn, and you sort of expect Girish Karnad's mother to do the volte-face she does. But you definitely are not prepared for the way Zeenat argues her husband's case. Never once does she claim he is innocent, nor offer any form of justification. She is singlemindedly selfish in the fact that all she wants is her husband,her life back, making for a rare characterisation. A lot of dialogues stand out, none more than when the grandmother tells Mira "Jo kuch bhi tu karne jaa rahi hain, woh ek insaan hi kar saktha hai. Farishton ke naseeb main ye sab kahaan?".

The places, the people:
I don't know if Nagesh Kukunoor tried to establish a visual metaphor by shifting from the plush, green locales of Himachal to the arid, barren deserts of Rajasthan to establish the disruption of Zeenat's life as she knew it. But, the role that these places play is as essential as the characters themselves. The silky sands of the desert, and the way they are exquisitely shot make up for a rewarding visual experience. Adding to this are the two stunning leading ladies- Gul Panag with her dimples, and kajal lined eyes, and Ayesha Takia with her innocent, almost cherubic beauty. And all that the development of their characters does is, make you like them even more.

The music:
I have heard very little of Salim-Suleman before this movie and their work lends a well-rounded completeness to Dor. The palpably sad Yeh honsla, the re-working of the folksy Kesariya Balam and the brilliantly used bass flute refrains complement every frame of the movie almost to perfection.

To sum it all up, Dor is a sterling example of what a correctly proportioned mix of the defining elements of Indian cinema can produce. As it plays out firmly grounded in reality, with a dose of melodrama that is moving and measured at the same time, with characters that could be you or me, with picture perfect visuals and a stirring background score, you can't help but succumb to the magic that is cinema.

Guru- the movie

2007-01-16T06:24:00.000-06:00

The moment I walked out of the theatre, I knew immediately that Guru would fall more readily in the league of the not so successful Iruvar, Kannathil Muthamittal, Dil Se than that of the highly successful Roja and Bombay. All these films have a common thread of being based on real issues of social and political relevance. The key differentiating factor is that Roja and Bombay are essentially people movies, where the issue of Kashmir or Communalism merely forms the backdrop to what is simply a story of ordinary people caught in extraordinary circumstances. They do not demand a basic understanding of the context in which the story is set, whereas it helps to have at least a faint idea of the Dravidian movement, the ethnic conflict in Sri Lanka and the turmoil in the North East to truly appreciate Iruvar, KM and Dil Se. Here the issues are given as much importance, if not more, as the people embroiled in them. I have always been against prerequisites and supplements to help appreciate art, so much so that I question a friend’s love for Mulholland Drive, a film which you need external help to comprehend fully. But movies like Iruvar and Guru force me to re-evaluate my stance. When you watch Guru purely as the rags to riches rise of an ambition blinded man, it is not going to be as impactful as seeing it with an awareness of the License Raj, the stumbling blocks to entrepreneurship and the bureaucratic bullshit small time businessmen have to put up with in India. For a simple fact, even today, you need 9 licenses to start a simple cafe(Source: India Uncut). By itself, Guru is an engaging, charming story of the underdog making it big. But when seen with an understanding of the odds stacked against Gurukant Desai, when you realise the magnitude of his achievement, when it dawns that for every Gurukant Desai who succeeds, there are hundreds, maybe thousands more bogged down by licenses, laws, and levies, Guru can be so much more.

The weakest part of Guru is obviously its climax, where after having the potential to build up to a powerhouse, Maniratnam, uncharacteristically builds it on a shaky house of cards and then disappointingly flicks it away. The only explicitly stated obstacle in Abhishek’s entrepreneurial journey is his inability to obtain a license to trade. After surmounting that, he is shown to have a pretty much smooth sailing. Justifying all his actions in the speech at the end, doesn’t stir you as much as it would have if more of his struggles with red tapism, obsolete constricting laws and taxes had been dwelled upon suitably. Also there is this ridiculous scene where a man who got his daughters married with share earnings from Abhishek’s company offers him his support. To try and lend an altruistic colour to an obviously selfish man is pretty lame. Given the pre-release hype about the shades of grey in Abhishek’s character, it appears as though Mani never really wanted to show any black after all.

Having started on such a negative note, let me allow my Maniratnam bias to take over from here. I don’t think any other director has this man’s ability to develop relationships as realistically and to portray sexual chemistry and intimacy so brilliantly. The slapping sequence between Abhishek and Aishwarya, the exquisitely used Tere Bina and the way it culminates, his penchant for stressing the physical aspects of love- after an unsuccessful emotional proposal, Madhavan elicits a yes with a deliciously shot lip lock- all the stuff of legends. The rich production values, the meticulous attention to detail, the painstakingly crafted sets, Rajiv Menon’s camera work all make up for an awesome visual treat. It hurts though that all the other songs, barring maybe Ek Lo, Jaage Hain and the amazing refrain that accompanies most of Vidya Balan’s screentime, have been mercilessly relegated to the background and hence thoroughly devalued.

Moving on to Vidya Balan and the necessity of her role, for me this is one of Mani’s most multi-layered, open-to-many-interpretations characters ever. First and foremost, Vidya is the film’s only truly neutral observer, the only one who doesn’t take sides, the only one who is able to love both Abhishek and Madhavan, indifferent to what they do with their lives. She is a reminder to the viewer to hold on and reserve their judgements, and not classify Abhishek and Madhavan in the stereotypical wrong and right moulds. Vidya also represents the common man, someone who is in reality so far removed from, and hence unaffected equally by the illegalities of Abhishek’s business and its exposure by Madhavan. Vidya’s handicap is a metaphor for the obstacles to Abhishek’s ambition . She probably looks up to him because he is in some way able to work around those obstacles, something she cannot even hope to do. Finally, Vidya is the restraining factor holding Abhishek from doing anything adverse to Madhavan, helping him stay in the “justifiable” grey as opposed to the “unjustifiable” grey.

Guru does not merely chronicle the life of one man, it makes us think of the many more equally enterprising men, who never make it big because they stay within the confines of the law. Ironically, the law that is written to benefit the people can benefit so many more if rewritten to benefit these men- For instance, Abhishek’s tax evasion helps more people as shareholders, than the taxes themselves would have, considering the layers of corruption they would have trickled through.

Returning to the league in which Guru falls, is it Maniratnam’s failing as a director that the movies where he has focused on people have been more powerful than the ones where he has focused on issues? Should he stick to the genre of Roja, Bombay, pandering to the public, digging deep into their emotions and merely tickling their intellect or should he make movies like Guru, feeding both emotions and intellect equally? Give us more of the former, Mani. Give us more of the latter too.Aw..what the hell, just give us more, Mani!

Guru

2006-11-18T21:24:00.000-06:00

Forgive me my readers, for it is that time again- the time when you groan and go “Oh no! Not again! Not yet another superlative, adjective filled, Rahman worshipping review”. Try as I might to be objective, and brave the onslaught of the waves, it is all in vain as I break down and give in to this man and fall to my knees and bow to him. Now that I am done with the theatrics, let me dispense with the unpleasant first.

There is something comforting about familiarity, which is why we tend to associate anything new with something we know well. Right from telling someone you meet that they remind you of someone else, to trying hard to find out which old song a new one resembles, we try to mentally map the unfamiliar with the accustomed. Rahman gives you a million opportunities to do this, for he extensively reuses bits and pieces of his old compositions to give you something pseudo-new, yet mind blowing. Moreover, he uses a lot of commercially available loops which explains why some of his beats sound “lifted” from somewhere. To me, this is not a sign of creative saturation, but rather it showcases his ability to reuse the familiar and conjure up something phenomenal. To give you an analogy, there is this scene in The Mask, when Jim Carrey pulls out balloons and twists them into all kinds of shapes. When you see the final shapes that evolve, you don’t sit and complain that it’s the same damn balloon that made all of them. Actually, the analogy sucked, but I hope you see the connection anyway.

So coming back to the music of Guru- Yes I agree. Dum Dhara does sound like the Gayatri Mantra for it is inherently hymn like in intonation; A fifteen second flute bit in Mayya Mayya is probably from some Buddha Bar album and Satrangi Re makes a presence too; Ay Hairathe starts off like Poo Kodiyin(Iruvar) and uses a bit from Ye Rishta(Meenaxi); Ek Lo Ek Muft has a beat uncannily similar to Ayyo Pathikichu(Rhythm); There is a hint of the Bombay theme in Jaage Hain. If the songs didn’t impress you because of a few reused bits, then you are just nitpicking. If the songs impressed you and the reused bits still bother you, didn’t you hear perfection is overrated?

Guru had kept me edgy and nervous all this week. I have lost count of the number of websites I have scrounged for updates, and the number of times I have refreshed the browser. And when the samples came out, I was floored by Tere Bina, welcomed back with a pleased familiarity- Hariharan in Ay Hairathe, piqued by the exotic Maryem Toller in Mayya Mayya, and hastily dismissed off Barso Re. But these were mere mortals, and when I saw the credits for Jaage Hain, that had Chitra, Rahman and the Madras Choral Group, I smacked my lips for I knew that would be what I really wanted. And when I heard Rahman’s off-key whisper, to the accompaniment of those soulful strings, I knew he was teasing me as if to say “You have waited so long, wait a little more”. And then the eruption of the high pitched vocals, followed up by that spell binding chorus- ecstasy! What a moving, emotionally sapping composition. There are two kinds of anticipation, one when you don’t know what you are getting; the other when you know exactly what you are getting. Usually, there is no fun in the latter, but the thing about Jaage Hain is that it makes even that so much fun. You know Rahman is going to break out in that now-familiar vocals, and you know the choir is going to repeat after him, and yet you eagerly wait, as though standing in a beach waiting for the waves to come and soak you.

And the lyrics though sparse are so evocative- Gulzar’s sequel to Robert Frost’s “Miles to go before I sleep” is “Miles have gone by. Let me sleep”. Rahman mentioned in an interview that the music starts off with a Turkish feel, moves on to become “north Indian friendly” and then operatic. So this is likely to be the climax song a la Malarodu from Bombay. By the way did you notice the classy touch -the faint bagpipes when Rahman whispers?

Tere Bina, Rahman’s ode to Nusrat and what an ode at that. Widening his singing repertoire, he attempts a romantic duet, probably for the first time and pulls it off with such finesse. You can almost feel the childish excitement when Rahman starts an ambitious Ga Ga Ri Sa like Nusrat's flurry of notes in Afreen Afreen, and then checks himself and falls back to a simple Luka Chuppi like style. But the highlight of the song for me is Chinmayee. It is one thing to be talented, it is an entirely different thing to constantly challenge yourself and push the envelope. Singing with tremendous versatility, she steals the thunder from Rahman especially when she alternates between low and high pitches in the end.

Ay Hairathe, the return of the prodigal son. Hariharan makes a comeback to his comfort zone in this melodious Ghazalish duet. Hey wait, there is fodder for all you Rahman nay sayers. The Dum Dhara chorus is lifted from somewhere. Oh right, its from Tere Bina. Tch Tch, recycling tunes in the same movie. That’s a first even by Rahman standards. Anyway, I am assuming the two songs are linked in some way in the movie.

To many people living in North India, anyone from the south is a Madrasi. I would have made a similarly misinformed generalization and branded Mayya Mayya as Arabian sounding, had I not read that it in fact has Turkish influences. With an infectious rhythm, Maryem Toller’s sultry voice, and the Holida interlude by Keerthi to die for, this is the pick of the peppy numbers. Rahman experiments big time with Baazi Laga which is the “north Indian friendly” number. Keeping in mind that Guru is a period film, this is the only song from a different time in the album. Rahman has always been among the few music directors to give the backing vocalists their due and recognition. I loved the way he uses Swetha and Bhargavi in that catchy chorus.

Barso Re, for me has a disappointing start but redeems itself very nicely in the next two stanzas. Ek Lo Ek Muft has the funny Joiyyun Joiyyun chorus which is actually nice to hear. But for once I am not impressed with Rahman’s pick of vocals. Bappida though doing exactly what is expected of him does not lend anything special to the song. When Rahman usually does the music equivalent of a casting coup, he has always produced songs to remember-MSV in Aalalakanda(Sangamam) and Vidai Kodu(Kannathil Muthamittal) and why even, Silambarasan in Bailamore(Kaadhal Virus). In all likelihood, Barso Re and Ek Lo are likely to make a better impact on screen, which is a given considering that the former boasts of Ash in Adirampally;)

So let me try ending this a little different. If I had to survive a week on a deserted island, I would consider an iPod loaded with the songs of Guru, and back up batteries essential to my survival. Of course, I would need food and water, but we were talking about essentials…Right?

Operation Chanakya

2006-10-12T23:38:00.000-05:00

Monday, 0900 hrs, Indian Army Barracks, Srinagar

Yet another morning had dawned in Srinagar, not the “romantic, misty, picture perfect sunrise over the Dal Lake” morning, yet another bloody, terrorist attack ridden morning. Lieutenant Raghav stood all starched and somber as the bodies of Sepoy Gurprit Singh and Sepoy Rajneesh Gupta wrapped in the tricolour were about to be handed over to the families. A wail here, a sniffle there and Raghav couldn’t help but think about home- an ever worrying mother, who said a million prayers for his safety everyday, an outwardly detached father, who scanned every news item online for the situation in Kashmir. A pat here, a mumbled sorry there and formalities completed, he walked back into his quarters.

Monday, 1830 hrs, Lieutenant Raghav’s quarters

Havildar Ajay Sharma stormed into the room and threw down a map before Raghav. As if in after thought, he followed this with a curt salute and a perfunctory excuse me.

“A Local informant just contacted me. We have the exact coordinates of the perpetrators of today morning’s attack. They are at a base camp in Azaad Kashmir.”

“So?”

“With all due respect Sir! Dammit! We have to do something . We know where they are. We know how many they are. All we need is five men. We can take them out!’

“Ajay, I understand your anger. But you do realize that Azaad Kashmir lies across the LOC. Sending a force in there is termed mildly as infilitration. Our duty here is to defend against infilitration, not do it ourselves. The political repercussions of such an act will only lead to another Kargil.”

“Ah! Political repercussions! I forgot. What are we but impotent pawns in a political powerplay. On one side there is a government that harbours these militants, rears them and lets them in across the border and then pleads innocence and ignorance. On the other side you have a government, that in spite of all its defense spending and nuclear gimmicks is caught in a Gandhian time warp. “We shall watch people die, we know who does this, we shall protest but we shall not attack”. And in this crossfire between morons hopelessly indifferent to the lives that are being lost, armed and yet unarmed, here we stand, deluding ourselves with our regular dose of inspiration screaming ‘Ours is not reason why, but merely to do and die!’”

“Ajay. Why are you telling me all this. Do you think I don’t feel the way you do? What’s the point of all this? Where is all this leading?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t know, Sir. I have just had it with watching all this. Those young boys. Rajneesh, just a week away from his marriage vacation. It just isn’t fair.”

“I am tempted to cluck away sympathetically and tell you a philosophical “Life is not fair” and end this discussion. But I guess you won’t have any of it. You want some action, and you are not going to stop until you get what you want. Okay Ajay, for a long time I have had a plan and it is time we go ahead with it. Join me for a drink.”

“But Sir. I am scheduled to be on watch at 2000 hrs.”

“There is going to be no need for that. Who are the boys with you? Are they good?”

“Kanwaljit and Ghulam. Young ones, but full of spunk.”

“Radio them and this is what you will say……”

Monday, 2045 hrs, Watch tower No.756, North Sector, Srinagar

No one knew when the first shots were fired or where they came from. Adding to the disorientation and confusion was the fact that the watch had not sounded the alarm. By the time the soldiers from the barracks had mobilized themselves and gotten into positions, the infilitrants had changed their minds and retreated. Judging from the flashes of gunfire, it was probably a reconnaissance party that had gotten a little too adventurous. What was perplexing was the fact that Ajay, Kanwaljit and Ghulam were nowhere to be seen.

Wednesday, 1000 hrs, Military Court, Srinagar

A cold, emotionless and authoritarian voice droned on “Proceeding on the testimony provided by eye witnesses, it is established without doubt that Sepoy Kanwaljit Singh and Sepoy Ghulam Ali were seen leaving their posts and proceeding towards their barracks around fifteen minutes prior to the firing of shots. This inexplicable action of theirs and their consequent absence from duty suffices for this court to declare them deserters from the Army of the Republic of India.

Havildar Ajay Kumar Sharma, this court finds you guilty on charges of gross negligence of duty, consuming alchohol while on duty, and conduct unbecoming of a soldier of the Army of the Republic of India. You are hereby discharged from the services of the Army of the Republic of India.

Lieutenant Raghav Srinivasan, In spite of being aware of Havildar Ajay Kumar Sharma’s watch duty, you have acted in a way that brings disgrace to the Armed Forces of the Republic of India. In view of your spotless record so far, this court awards you a suspension from service for a period of three months. You shall, however be allowed to retain your rank.”

Wednesday, 1130 hrs, Major Nair’s office

“This is preposterous, Raghav. I cannot believe you could do something so irresponsible. There has to be a reasonable explanation. You are incapable of such stupidity.”

“Sir. All I can say is I am sorry. I did not think my actions through”

“Ridiculous. How could you of all people? Something is not right here”

“Sir. Can I trust you with my precious collection of books. I had prefer leaving it with you than lug it all the way back. I have a rare edition of a transalation of Chanakya’s ArthaShastra…I….”

“Are you out of your mind? Your books are all you care about at such a serious time. Is this a joke of some sorts?”

“Sir, if you don’t mind I do not want to discuss this further. I have a train to catch in an hour. Please take good care of my books.”

Thursday, Dusk, Forested Area in Azaad Kashmir

Moving with a practiced stealth that had become second nature to them, four figures in military fatigues took their marked positions around the tent. At the opportune moment as one of them signaled, another lobbed a grenade into it. Following the ensuing explosion, two figures struggled to get up as three others lay dead. The end for them was swift as the four men opened fire.

Thursday, 2200 hrs, International News Channel

“….quite a turnaround as for the first time in over forty years, they have accused India of infilitration. We now bring you the statement issued by the External Affairs Ministry of India.

“Preliminary Investigations have revealed the identification of two of the men. It is a matter of national shame that one of them is a recently suspended officer in the Army and the other was dishonorably discharged. Army officials have also indicated that there has been a theft of arms and ammunition perpetrated by them. An enquiry commission has been formed to thoroughly investigate the issue. The Government of India would like to restate their stand on cross border terrorism. We whole heartedly condemn this act of certain tainted individuals and hope that this does not affect the peace process in anyway. We would like to extend our co-operation in any way to capture these individuals.”

Thursday, 2230 hrs, Watch tower No.756, North Sector, Srinagar

A speck of red caught the light from the Major Nair’s flashlight. As he walked closer and picked the Tavor Tar-21 cartridge and turned it around, he already knew what he would see- imprinted on the cartridge was the seal of the Indian Army ammunition factory. “The crazy bastard!”, Major Nair swore to himself and rushed back to his office as he remembered something. He rummaged through the storage box and picked out the book he was looking for. On the front page, in Lieutenant Raghav’s shabby handwriting were the following words:

“ Contact Frequency: 325; Codename: Chanakya; Jai Hind”

Advance apologies for factual inaccuracies, logical inconsistencies and a possibly disappointing story. But the crux of it all, if not already evident are questions that have been festering away in my head for a long time: Why are we not returning the favour of infilitration? Why are we watching our soldiers die as militants trickle in steadily? Why don’t we get them at the source? What is the point of playing a fair game when the opponents are unfair and the playing field is not level? Questions that remain......

Sillunnu Oru Kadhal

2006-08-02T14:50:00.000-05:00

Disclaimer: To ask me to write a restrained review for a Rahman album, is like asking a school kid to sit a minute after the bell has gone on the last day before summer vacation.

The lowlies:
Let's get the songs that got out of my playlist pretty soon, out of the way. Mazaa Mazaa is Rahman caught in a SJ Surya warp. Nothing special, nothing out of the ordinary, nothing worth mentioning except the fact that Shreya does a spectacular job of making tamil sound like telugu...or wait...was it meant to be telugu? Also, Charan is wasted, especially(I say this at the risk of committing the greatest blasphemy in TFM) when he is just beginning to sound a wee bit like his illustrous dad.

I would have been pretty disappointed with Mareecham, had it not been redeemed by a what I have come to notice as a new Rahman trait-transitions. Well, this is something that struck me in Rang De Basanti, in both the title song and Khalbali. Both had such-if I may be audacious enough to say so-pedestrian beginnings but then came the awesome transitions- a subtle yet impactful pace and tone change in the former and the ziddi and the hone hone de nasha bits in the latter- which ended up giving a whole new dimension to what would have been ordinary songs. Here too, Rahman uses the male vocals and some chants to provide a foil to Caroline's husky sultry rendition making it sound pretty decent.

The Contenders:
The title song that is bound to end up being popular did not impress me too much. It was Ilayarajayish in the fact that the jazz arrangements sounded like what was used in Kurangu Kayil Maalai (Mumbai Express) and also that the vocals were similar to Kaaka(Julie Ganapathy). Neverthless, Rahman does some neat experimentation and this ends up being pretty much in the league of Hello Mr. Edhir Katchi(Iruvar).

Shankar Mahadevan pulls off a Uppu Karuvaadu with Machakaari and Vasundhra Das does a great job too. A peppy racy pace, interesting interludes make this a sure fire chartbuster.

The Upper Echelon:
Kummi Adi, what a fabulous energetic beginning to the album. Rahman gets everything right, from the eclectic mix of voices(The folksy rustic Seerkazhi Siva Chidambaram and Theni Kunjaramma and the tempering effect of Swarnalatha and Naresh) and the meticulous attention to the rythm,that is essentially life of this song. When this song ends with that no holds barred, barrage of beats, you just don't want it to!

Nirvana:
Ah! The irony of genius! When something you create competes with something else you create! If there is anything called a vintage Rahman duet, Munbe Vaa fits that description to a tee. Shreya and Naresh are at their sublime best, add to that the refreshing Rangoli chorus, and the cross between a santoor and jalatarang instrumentals, and you have sheer class. Just when you thought things can't get any better, as if to question that very thought, Rahman belts out New York Nagaram, the mindblowing way he starts the song with the guitar and that half mumble-half hum , Tanvi and Bhargavi's harmony, the echo of voices at the end of each line, that aching, soulful love ballad feel- just pure unadulterated pleasure!

Well that's my first take, bound to be some changes considering the tendency of his music to grow on you. Just when I was floundering about in blog drought, I hear this album and the words start flowing and a post is born in no time. What better life saver can a drowning man ask for? Drought, Drowning....hmmmm...logical disconnect...but you get the picture...

Thank you for smoking!!

2006-06-11T17:59:00.000-05:00

For a movie which has such an incredulous title, ‘Thank you for smoking’ is almost in justification, rollickingly hilarious. It turns out to be a movie that almost extols the ‘gift of the gab’, a movie that brings such a nonchalant perspective to issues that trigger profoundly ethical discussions and are usually complicated unnecessarily, and a movie that seeks to light heartedly yet intelligently rationalize the means taken by different people to make their living or to put it as in the movie ‘to pay their mortgages’.

Nick Naylor(Aaron Eckhart) is a man who self admittedly makes money by talking. He is a lobbyist for the ridiculously named Academy of Tobacco studies, a consortium of tobacco manufacturers, where research is done solely with the capitalistic aim of disproving the health hazards of cigarettes. He smooth talks, oozes confidence, corners social activists, and helps keep the market for tobacco growing. The movie takes a tongue-in-cheek look at how governments make it incumbent upon themselves to parent cigarette smokers and make absurd regulations like the pointless statutory warning that accompanies ever cigarette label. In my opinion, government regulations against things like smoking and suicide are nothing but an intrusion into the privacy and personal preferences of people. Why do politicians and social activists try desperately to offer help to people who do not need any, and whose actions have a consequence on nobody but themselves. For instance, trying to police people on passive smoking, which harms others is a far more fruitful and sensible exercise than trying to educate fully aware people on the perils of smoking. I can go on in all earnestness and seriousness about this issue, but I would be doing immense injustice to the movie which makes no such attempts at taking stands, or defending the morality and ethics of people who work for the tobacco industry.

‘Thank you for smoking’ merely glazes the surface of deep issues, letting you draw conclusions, and in the true spirit of its message allows you to make for yourself the decision of what is right and what is wrong, or rather whether everything in life necessitates such a classification. There is sharp wit and wry humour in the dialogues and the scene where Nick engages his son in an argument which he proceeds to “win” by heading off in a totally tangential direction, had me chuckling to myself, for I have attempted to pull that on my friends many a time. And in a movie that was largely funny and pleasantly non-preachy, the end had two brilliantly directed moments- one where Nick is asked in the senate hearing whether he would let his son smoke when he turns 21 and the other where the almost reassuring fact that there are still many things in this world that money cannot buy, is subtly emphasized.

I had a great time watching this movie and I would rate it a must see. Go ahead and watch it and you wouldn’t regret it!

Adrenaline

2006-03-29T10:42:00.000-06:00

Every now and then, in one of those aimless, lost-in-thought introspections, it would come flashing into my head. The mundane monontony, the lack of adventure, the absolute conformity to the rigid rules of a pedestrian life. I have hung out with guys, who spoke at length about the fights they have been in, the gang wars they have seen and been part of, the punches thrown, the occasional one taken. It was at times like these, some baser animal instinct at the back of my head would wake up and tell me "See! I have always told ya..If you hadn't pushed me back, you would have had a story of your own to tell. Violence is not to be run away from.....it is one of those forbidden fruits which you are told not to touch ever, but at some point in life you have to sneak a bite...savour it for what it is worth". And in those moments of introspection, questions like " Is it because of the way you have been raised or is it because of you?" would rear themeselves to be answered. Right from childhood, it had become habitual to avoid physical confrontation of any kind-run away from the bully, ignore the abuse of the street corner drunk, why get into a fight? what good can it do?, keep away from these gangs, study, get a life. don't waste it away. But then in startling contrast were our movies, our mythology, our epics where the hero is a man who stands up for good, who does not hesitate to fight, who most importantly stands up for himself. You think a little introspection is harmless, but in reality, it is not. It just coils up a thought in your head like a spring and one day, when the time is right, the spring releases. And so, today, finally, I have a story of my own to tell.

He was just another intoxicated wastrel, the kind who seeked the cheap thrill of taunting pedestrians, in the cowardly confidence that they would shrug off his abuse and walk away hurriedly. It was his everyday entertainment, free entertainment for the socially despicable. You see so many of these specimens, that it becomes second nature to look the other way, turn the deaf ear. I have seen my share of drunk revellers, who scream at you, fling the occasional racial insult and race off in their cars, leaving you no time to react, no time to even show them the finger. And over time, you don't even bother, you give them the same importance as shit on the road, you just side step and walk away. But it was different that day. It was pretty early in the morning and it was a lonely stretch of a dimly lit road. He was waiting, lurking in the shadows and let out a stream of expeltives as I neared him. Normally I would have just scurried past him, like a rat would when it felt human presence, ironic as it may be, for he was the real rat. But I didn't. Some pent up rage in me snapped that day and I stopped, stood my ground and gave him back his abuse word for word. He tottered forward, made threatening gestures, and dared me to say anything more. I had started and I did not want to back down. So I continued my verbal assault. And then, suddenly he charged at me.

There are many times in life, when you just know what to do, even though you have never done it before. It is almost as if you have known that all along, but never really put it to use. So, even though I had never been in a real fist fight before(if you exclude the childhood playground scruffles), I instinctively coiled myself up and punched him squarely on the face. And what an impact that had, considering the fact that he literally ran into my fist. He fell back on the road. Few words can effectively describe the high that I felt then-the rush of warm blood, the aura of the aggressor, the feeling of a predator on top of its prey, the surge of adrenaline. But that was so fleeting, so short lived, when the realisation of what I had done sunk in. Here, I was all alone, at a time when help would be difficult to call out for, alone with an enraged, disoriented, potentially armed, possible criminal. Potentially armed....potentially armed...even before my senses could fathom the significance of that echoing thought, the man whipped out a gun , pointed it at me and all I saw was a flash, all I remember was that flash.....

Three days and a lifetime of suffering later, my friend died in the Intensive Care unit of the hospital. He wanted to tell his story, and this was the story he told me. Considering his penchant for subtlety, he would have loved to have left the ending just there, allowing you to make your interpretations. And so here is mine...... Sometimes, in some crude, cruel way, I think the momentary euphoric high that he felt after his foolish bravado, was worth a lot to him. But when I think about the worthless bullet spent, the life with so much potential, so many things unfelt, unexplored, wasted, it was worth nothing, absolutely nothing.

Munich

2006-01-15T01:53:00.000-06:00

Munich- the movie was painfully, excruciatingly, tortuously slow. No second thoughts about that. But Munich was not about the movie, for at the end of the three hours, it was Munich- the message that lingered, a message that is so chillingly, scaringly, hopelessly true. Retribution, Revenge, Vengence- words that have meaning for individuals, words that blur into insignificance for people, masses, mobs, states and nations. Problems between nations, between masses will never be solved between a few individuals. The irony is, individual interactions are the only way that an attempt at solutions, however futile, can be made, and that is why they are the only routes being taken.

Munich is not just about Israel and Palestine, or about Jews and Muslims. It assumes a global perspective, a more universal meaning when you realise you can replace the two warring groups with any other two-India and Pakistan, Irish Catholics and Irish Protestants, Hindus and Muslims and the movie continues to hold the same relevance, convey the same impact. Problems between you and me are solved when one of us has a change of mind, or one of us is able to see things the way the other sees them. But when you have the issues between people en masse, how do they get resolved. How do you change the mind of a nation? How can you hope to wipe out animosity and hatred, that is ingrained in people from the age they are impressionable, until it becomes so deep rooted that it becomes second nature to them. Even an attempt to do that is bound to be fruitless, and it is that futility, that hopelessness is the message that Munich delivers so beautifully.

Oh yeah. I almost forgot....the movie. Well when the intention is so evidently not so much to entertain, as it is to educate or better put, enlighten, one cannot complain about the snail's pace. Eric Bana is good and the French informants are subtly impressive. There are brilliant moments, dialogues that are so richly multilayered that they echo off different meanings in your head- like for instance when the PLO Ali tells Avner " Do you know what it is to be without a home" or when Louis tells him looking at the kitchen plan through the shop window " It will be expensive, but that is how homes are". There are also disapointments, for in a movie that is so slow, the transformation of Avner is so rushed, the reasons why he begins to see the purposelessness of the killings instead of being implied, end up being unsaid.

So is Munich all about negativity? Does it just say that there are problems, that can never be solved and leave it that? I think not, and I, being the dreamer I am, choose to interpret my favorite part of the movie otherwise. Towards the end, as a hauntingly high pitched female voice fills your senses, as a scene of impassioned lovemaking unfolds, the final moments of the hostages of Munich plays out simultaneously. And as the lovers climax, and Bana lets out a scream of agony as though he sees the deaths, the hands of his wife reach out and cover his eyes. And in that moment I see hope, hope that newer generations close their eyes to their bloody pasts and move on, move on to that elusive thing they call peace.

Love, Sex and The Maniratnam Code*....

2005-12-05T05:19:00.000-06:00

"The year was 1986- the decade of the romantics. They were prude and dogmatic, harping on the divinity and purity of love, absolving it of its obvious carnal and physical influences, being scandalised when love and lust were spoken of in the same breath, drawing lines to keep love away from any sexual connotation, when in reality there could be no such lines. Along came a young filmmaker, a man who espoused the very ideology that the romantics stood against, and who had it in him to call a spade a spade. The year was 1986, when Maniratnam made Mouna Ragam, and as the lines of the famous song went " Mandram vandha thendralukku manjam vara nenjam illayo..."(Breeze that blew into my living room, do you not have the heart to share my bed..."), it was to set the trend for many more such songs, songs that would be candid enough to see love as it truly is. Starting that year, in every movie he has made till date, hidden amidst the drama, action, melodrama and the "romance", if you look and hear hard enough, you will be able to seek out The Maniratnam Code, a subtle yet strong strong statement that love is as much physical as it is emotional....."

Now that I have made such a seemingly outrageous observation, let me back it with irrefutable evidence...

1988-Agni Nakshatram-Ninnukori
"Mottuththaan mellaththaan pooppoal pookka;
Thottuppaar kattippaar dhaegam vaerkka;
Poojaikkaaga vaadudhu, dhaegam unnaith thaedudhu ;"
(The bud blossoms ever so slowly into a flower;
Touch it, Embrace it, Let your body sweat it;
The flower withers yearning to be accepted, the body seeks thee;)

1989-Idhayathai Thirudaadhe-Om Namaha
"Sevvidhazh saerumboadhu jeevangal silirththadhu;
Ovvoru aasaiyaaga ullaththil thulirththadhu; "
(As the red lips joined, the souls shivered;
Passion after passion sprouted in the heart;)

A song remembered for picturisation that was way ahead of its times- Moody, mellow lighting, a panning camera that goes around lip locked lovers, who remain lip locked for most of the song,and yet there was no sleaze, there was no squirmish discomfort, there was just the reality of love.

1995-Bombay-Humma Humma
"Sollikkoduththapinnum allikkoduththapinnum muththam meedhamirukku;
Dheebam maraindhapinnum boomi irundapinnum kannil velichchamirukku;
Vaanam pozhindhapinnum boomi nanaindhapinnum saaral sarasamirukku;
Kaamam kalaindhapinnum kangal kadandhapinnum kaadhal malarndhukidakku"
(I have taught, I have given liberally and still there are kisses left;
The lamp has been snuffed out, darkness has set in, and still there is light in the eyes;
The clouds have showered, the earth's wet, and still the drizzle remains;
The passion's disarrayed, the eyes have moved on, yet the blossomed love lingers;)

1997-Iruvar-Unnodu Naan
"Acham kalaindhen aasaiyinai nee anaithaay,
Aadai kalaindhen vetkathai nee anaithaay"
(I discarded my fears, You embraced passion;
I discarded my clothing, You embraced coyness;)

More of a recited verse and less of a song per se, placed strategically following a fervent lovemaking scene, line after line makes alluring references to what transpired before. To sum it all up, the refrain that goes "Unnodu naan irundha ovvoru mani thuliyum, Marana padukkayilum marakkadhu kanmaniye" (Darling, Every second of time I have spent with you, I will not be able to forget even on my deathbed)

2000-Alaipayuthey-Kadhal Sadugudu
"Pazhagumbozhudhu kumariyaagi ennai velvaay pennae;
Padukkai araiyil kuzhandhaiyaagi ennaik kolvaay kannae;"
(Girl, at all other times you win me over with your feminity;
But in the bedroom, why do you kill me by putting on this childish innocence)

2004-Aayidha Ezhuthu-Nenjam Ellam
"Nenjamellaam kaathal,
Dhaeghamellaam kaamam,
Unmay sonnaal ennai naesippaayaa?
Kaathal konjam kammi,
Kaamam konjam thookal,
Manjathin mael ennai mannipaayaa?"
(The heart is full of love, and yet the body is full of lust, Will you continue to love me even if you know this truth;
The love is a little less, The lust is a little more, Will you forgive me on the bed;)

As far as proving the existence of The Maniratnam Code goes, this song is the clincher. As the years have progressed, the songs have become more noticeable, and their intent become easily discernable. And this song probably lays out in black and white what is on many a lover's mind...There is an openness in the acceptance of the fact that lust can dominate love in any relationship, and there is an ironic audacity in asking for forgiveness for the lust, in bed!

An artist's work is said to be a reflection of his feelings, opinions, emotions, and probably his inner self. Tracing this thread that seems to run in commonality through Maniratnam's movies, might seem to be an execrsise in futility. But the aim is definitely not to highlight the works of this auteur. It is just a matter of pleasure that an artist sees things exactly the way I see them, exactly the way they should be seen. Love is pure, divine and all the nice things they say about it, but the fact remains that of the many horses that drive this emotion, the horse that rears his head a wee bit more pronounced than the others is the horse that represents the physical aspects of love. It is possible that, it is this primal driving factor, that makes love such an overpoweringly strong emotion. There is no shame in accepting this fact, there is just honesty.....

*after the best selling novel 'The Da Vinci Code' by Dan Brown, the theme of which concerns messages hidden in an artist's work.

The great Indian dream?

2005-11-27T02:29:00.000-06:00

The Indian software industry killed my wardrobe and gave me the dressing sense of a 40-year-old white collar jobber. Now that I am back to school working towards a master's degree, I am surrounded by guys and girls a couple of years younger than me in their funky, funny-in-your-face-messaged tees, ripped-low-waisted-boot-cut jeans and I am in my formal coloured formal full hand shirt tucked in to my formal trousers and I am hit by a feeling of having rapidly aged. I tell myself that two years of software can't be that bad and get pulled into a round of profound introspection. And as a result, realisation dawns on me that it isn't just my wardrobe that got killed. Alongwith it has gone the ability to use my intellect, my social life, my hunger for challenges...I think I will just stop before it gets any more depressing.

All I have seen written about the IT and BPO sectors is what amazing contributions that they have made to the Indian economy. There has been the ocassional rant about the slave like work conditions in the call centres and the odd software engineer joke keeps floating around. But people are quick to jump to the defense of these sectors and how people working in them do it out of their own free will. The latter is one of the greatest myths afflicting the educated Indian populace. Sixty percent of IT and BPO employees take up the jobs not because they want to, but purely because they are the only jobs available in the booming Indian economy. Frankly speaking there is no denying the good that these sectors have done to the economy and the potential they have. But the downside to this, is the colossal waste of intellectual capital that keeps these sectors running. A vast majority of IT projects in India require little or no specialised skills, and most definitely do not require the skills of an engineer. Some of the brightest minds are recruited and made to do probably the most mind numbing work, like testing software or providing technical support for the client, both of which can be performed with great efficiency with skills acquired in a three month long course at any B-grade computer institute. A vast majority of engineers take up IT jobs with dreams of doing creative challenging work only to have it all come crashing down.

So what is my point, you may ask. My point is that the quality of work in BPOs and the IT industry does not demand the overskilled employee base it curently uses. My point is that there is an inherent subservience that runs in our blood, a possible vestige of colonial rule, that prevents us from thinking beyond the service industry as a money spinning option. The agression, drive and entrepreneurship that individuals showed in starting companies like Infosys, Wipro and TCS has been replaced by a complacent satisfaction at the lucrativeness of their current positions. The fact remains that the service industry is but the tip of a gold mine and there is much more money to be made by venturing into manufacturing. Helping Microsoft make software brings in money, but making the same software that Microsoft makes will bring in a lot more money. Twenty years agow, we would have had just the intellectual resources with little or no financial backing to make such ventures. But today the service industry has raked in enough money and the intelligent way to go, is not to just pump the money back into the same sector, but expand horizons and move into greener pastures. Otherwise the potential of one of the world's largest intellectual resource bases will remain untapped. The great Indian dream is when we realise that the moolah is not in merely polishing the shoes but in making the shoes ourselves. Speaking about shoes, its time to trade in my black ones for a pair of hep sneakers, its time for a wardrobe rebirth.......

A post out of thin air.....

2005-09-09T21:39:00.000-05:00

Err....hmmm....well.....errr....a post has been long overdue, but I have been at a loss for words, to use a neologism, severely blogstipated. Nothing has been inspiring enough for me to come up with a post, which is a pretty sad excuse, especially since I have been wanting to write about a million things- mundane music reviews of Ah Aah, Thotti Jaya, Ghajini, the experience of reading Sila Nerangalil Sila Manidargal, a couple of travelogues....

I finally realised that I wasn't trying to work on developing the uncanny blogger's ability to conjure up a post out of nothing. I have always written about other people's work-movies, music, books, and narcisistically admired the way I see things, but it has finally dawned on me that I have become dependent on someone else to provide the feed for my writing, maybe I should call myself a creative parasite.......

Anyway since its pretty obvious that this post is an attempt at writing for the sake of writing let me move on with some updates. I quit my job in July and am back to school, getting back to doing what I was interested in....Been sort of odd studying after a break, but hopefully I should get into the zone quite soon, hopefully being the key word....

Currently am tripping on two awesome songs, which I dug out from distant memories- Fuzon's More Saiyyaan and Lucky Ali's Nahin Lagtha Dil.... The latter being, in my opinion, Lucky's best. Coincidentally, both happen to be sad songs, which by the way is in no way is a reflection of my current mood. And both have brilliantly evocative, impactful videos....I rarely admire music videos, but these two are almost perfect examples of how they should be- subtle, suggestive, embodying the mood of the song, distractful at times, yet complementing the music throughout. Sadness fuels creativity a trifle more than other emotions....is it because it is so palpable and pervasive? While I am at it, let me also sneak in a mini-review of Thotti Jaya, three songs standing out and standing tall-Uyire En Uyire is of course the pick with sounding-like-Hariharan Karthik's splendid vocals and the Raptharaptha.... chorus. The theme is extremely attractive, and the anglicised tamil sounds super. And Yaaridamum, inspite of an uninspiring start, grows on you, thanks to Ramesh Vinayagam who is inching his way to my list of exotic voices....

That's about all I can think of now....funny that it's so easy to talk about nothing....but so challenging to write about nothing. Hopefully my next post will be more substantial.....

Mangal Pandey- Signs of saturation, yet a sign off in style

2005-07-28T12:31:00.000-05:00

A.R.Rahman has had it with period films. I heard on one of the news channels that he has decided to stop working on them. So self-admittedly Mangal Pandey is going to be his last period film for quite some time and if this is the kind of work he does when he has had enough, then he should have enough more often! Now this album is not without the tell-tale signs of saturation, some minor indications as to why the man wants to stop, but it is still a sign off in style. I started hearing the songs emerging from the shadow of TIS and my initial reaction was whether I would have to denounce one of God’s creations. But after Al Maddath Maulah and Mangal Mangal, I am really and totally hooked.

Obviously, the centerpiece of the album is Mangal Mangal, which has three versions. You can’t exactly call them versions; the first two are sort of trailers for the grand finale. The percussion is overwhelming- cow bells, dhols, dhumris and add to that Kailash Kher’s earthy, throaty vocals and the result is magic. The Athma version seems to be the song that signals the break of the mutiny- if you note the ominous echoing drum beat, the cymbal crash followed by a war cry and Javed Akthar’s lyrics are awesome- Dhanya hai Bhaag har us mata ke jo aisa beta paye and Phansee tho lagti sirf than ko, kaun sapnon ko phansee lagaye. They can hang our bodies, but who can hang our dreams? Sounds as good even when transalated…

I have been bitten by the Sufi bug, and been bitten real bad and Al Maddath Maulah which I would call Zikr’s(Bose) twin is an absolute treat. While the latter had a dominant stand alone voice supported by a chanting chorus, the vice-versa is the case with the former. The voices blend in beautiful harmony which makes you sway in sync and when Rahman cries out Maula, you can’t help but put up your arms and bow in respect! Now, I am all eager to hear him do a tamil Sufi number.

Main Vari Vari,the mujra is exquisite and the effect is as though the entire Zakir Hussain family decided to have a Tabla fest. Kavita Krishnamoorthy is spectacular as always. However it is given a run for its money by Rasiya, a song that I think is fabulous and also surprisingly anachronistic. Rahman has always made a conscious attempt to get the appropriate feel for a period film both in his choice of instruments as well as tunes. But this song, especially the Mmmmm bits and Richa’s vocals sounded sort of new age to me.

Takey Takey which rehashes the Bhangra beat of Pagdi..(Legend of Bhagat Singh), is slowly likeable. But the biggest disappointment of the album is Holi Re which is sub-standard to say the least. If Rahman had a reason to think he had reached a period film creative block, then his must be it. Unimaginative, crassy rhythm, and a quarter-anna worth tune, this song does not belong in the album.

Now the one thing that bothers me is why Rahman, who took the pains of using such exotic instruments as the Dilruba, Oud and Kora(I am typing the last two from the credits, swear I don’t know what they are), wants to stick to contemporary music with his electronic gadgets for company. Beats me, especially when he is doing such a God-level job. Probably I heard wrong...really hope I did.

TIS- Speaking the language of the Gods

2005-07-25T11:31:00.000-05:00

There is this compelling question that arises every time I think about Thiruvasagam in Symphony as to why Ilayaraja did not deem it fit to use Carnatic, Hindustani, Folk or any other form of music that we can call “ours” for this monumental effort. It is a rather silly question, one that arises out of a programmed tendency to call something “ours” and then take pride in it as “our” country, “our” music, “our” culture, “our” endless list. This question fades into oblivion every time I listen to TIS, for it is truly beyond all such pettiness. For in bringing together the work of a 10th Century Tamil Saint and Symphony Orchestra music in a perfectly harmonious confluence, Ilayaraja reinforces the adage that though the paths may be manifold, where they lead is one place.

The essence of TIS is captured in one epic of a composition Polla Vinayen that lasts a sapping twenty minutes. After being accustomed to the charmingly simple Pallavi-Anupallavi-Charanam arrangement, to listen to this song is to get lost in a bewildering maze of fantastic music and profound lyrics. Ilayaraja’s meticulous hard work and his deep understanding of the words of the Thiruvasagam is evident in every single line of this piece. The highlight: He brings out the pain and suffering of the cycle of births as he sings Munivaraai Devaraai... in his trademark style; The music then builds up to end in the reverberating Om chorus; He follows it up with a deeply impactful silence and the Nama Shivaya Vaazhga refrain with a brilliant use of the choir. My personal favourite is however Poovar Senni Mannan. The haunting Uh Ah chorus, Ilayaraja’s most controlled, most somber rendering makes this the ideal beginning to the album.

Ilayaraja has had to overcome two handicaps in this effort. First being the underplayed usage of percussion for a man who makes such prolific use of the tabla and drums. The second being the incongruity of fitting classical tamil lyrics to western classical music. He does away with the former with some subdued and intelligent usage of drum beats and the cymbals. How he deals with the latter, he summarises in the last song Putril Vaazh, in which he walks us through how he went about picking and fitting the appropriate verses to his compositions. At the end of that song, you have to wonder if these two were destined to be brought together in this made-for-each-other union.

There is this anecdote that Ilayaraja narrates about TIS. When he started recording with the Budapest Orchestra, there were giggles from the members when they were asked to play repetitive music, which they thought was funny. It was then that Ilayaraja explained the significance and seriousness of the work and sang some verses which totally transformed the way they looked at it. But now, there is no need for any more such explanations. All that needs to be done is to play snatches of TIS and the seriousness and the significance and a deeply moving effect automatically sinks in. It is said that when you truly believe in something, it can inspire you to do miracles. It is that deep belief in the Thiruvasagam, that has led Ilayaraja to come up with this masterpiece, a masterpiece Manickavasagar would be proud of.

On a personal note....

2005-07-10T14:23:00.000-05:00

I am back in Chennai..home, sweetest of homes. I finished my 6 month stint in London and am now back to do the "finding my roots" thing...just kidding...I am on a sabbatical from work figuring out what to do with my life...err...not exactly..I just said that because that sounded so exotic...when in fact I am on leave waiting for something to work out so that I can do what even a third rate dreamer should aim to...chase my dreams!

The most important event after I came back, other than getting papmpered by my parents, hanging out with paati, thatha, catching up with kith and kin, getting wet in a five-minute-lasting-chennai-rainshower, hogging and sleeping, is grabbing my copy of Thiruvasagam in Symphony and I must say it simply is divine! Hope to dedicate an entire post to it pretty soon...

Planning to do a little touring if time permits....have been wanting to see the Brihadeeswara temple ever since I read Ponniyan Selvan....and a lot of travel abroad has shamed me into realising I have seen so little of home! Lots to see....too little time.....hope to fit something in....

And before I sign off this boring purposeless filler, I have been reading the ripping apart of Anniyan in a lot of blogs and my rather flattering review stands out conspicously. This can mean only two things...either my taste in movies has become abysmally low or I saw the movie in an eager-to-appreciate-anything-that-is-thrown-at-me frame of mind. Or maybe...what the hell....I really *gulp* liked the movie!

Anniyan

2005-06-23T03:35:00.000-05:00

What can you say about a filmmaker who has the sheer audacity to make a 28 crore movie to tell you, his audience, that every little rule you have broken, every little “harmless” transgression of yours and even the slightest non-conformance which you think is insignificant has all together contributed to the pathetic, backward state your country is in today? What can you say about him, when even after telling you all that, he makes you leave the theatre fully, wholesomely entertained? Do you call him something on the lines of a big thinking, utopian, idealistic, romantic? Of course not. You call him exactly and precisely that.

The premise:
Shankar always seeks to embed a strong social message in his grandiose creations. Having explored his pet theme of corruption, to the fullest, he arachufies the arachufied maavu with some embellishments in a sparkling new grinder. The point he is trying to make is that we have become so accustomed to breaking the smallest of rules that it has become a cancerous malaise that our society is ridden with and this is the strongest impediment to our progress, leaving us far behind our peers like Singapore and Japan on the road to development. He may have made a well known, obvious yet valid point there. But this malaise has become so hopelessly deep rooted that it has become second nature to us to break rules, and ideas of transformation can be termed utopian at best. However, what does make Anniyan interesting other than that phenomenal scale of thinking, is the weaving of this social message in a fabric of intriguing mythology-the Garudapuranam the Hindu equivalent of the Judgment day which is uncannily like Dante’s The Divine Comedy.

The rape:
Shankar’s greatest forte is his perfect understanding of the power visual imagery can wield on the audience. The extravagance and opulence screams out in every frame of his songs. The breathtaking tulip gardens in Amsterdam for Kumari; the sets for the Andankakka number boasting of intricately painted houses, lorries, ambassador cars, rocks, roads and boulders; the attention grabbing, music video style Kannum Kannum Nokia shot in the all glass-and-steel Kuala Lumpur airport. These are visuals that don’t merely seduce you. They rape you out of your senses and leave you totally, absolutely awe inspired.

The actor:
When you walk out of Anniyan, you get this overpowering feeling of having seen a single actor movie. The role is tailor-made for Vikram, the cinematic rules of multiple personality disorder allowing him maximum scope to display his phenomenal acting prowess. The scene where he rolls on the floor his alters struggling with each other and the awesome interrogation scene where the alters appear in repetitive succession show that Vikram is in an altogether different league of actors.

The Action:
Call it inspired, plagiarized, borrowed.Yet the long drawn matrix style martial arts fight is almost flawlessly executed. There is a choreographed orderliness which is immensely appealing, the graphics are almost seamlessly inserted and we have the ultimate ingenuity in a desi style five headed snake routine in which the fighters move in formation against Vikram.

The pain-in-the-posterior:
The demands and the compulsions of the story dictate that one of the alters has to be timid and submissive- adjectives that seem to have a irritatingly clichéd association with the image of a Tamil Brahmin, someone, who would be called a typical pazham. In a movie that seeks to be so far ahead of the times, such an antiquated characterization stands out like a sore thumb. At times, Vikram’s acting looks like he is caught in between the genders and instead of looking like the chicken heart he is supposedly portraying he looks like , forgive my expression, an absolute pussy.

The power of words:
Dialogues that would seem utterly artificial, gratingly corny and totally preachy in any other movie adopt a completely realistic form in this movie. Sujatha is on the ball and check out these gems:

“Neenga sattatha kaila edukkardhu nyayama”
“Neenga sattatha odaikkalaam, Naan adha kaila edukka koodaadha”

“Ivalo china thappukku kolaiya?”
“Idhukku ellaam yaaru kolai panna porannu dhaane alakshiyama thappu panreenga”

Miscellenia:
Harris does a spectacular job in the background score especially in the eerie chants that resound whenever Anniyan appears. But in the end, when there are images of a transformed society, you can hear a snatch of Rahman's Vande Matram playing in the background, a subtle yet noticeable acknowledgement of his absence. And of course, Vivek is at his rollicking best in a rather timely return to form.

The verdict:
There is irony in the fact that Shankar who made the ‘Break the Rules’ Boys follows it up with 'Don’t break the rules' Anniyan. Probably a reflection of lessons learnt in life. Anniyan is the quintessential big budget entertainer, though the adrenaline rush which you get by relating to the protagonist, which is characteristic of a Shankar film is conspicously missing-like you don’t egg him on to beat the crap out of the baddies and you don’t exactly jump out of your seat rooting for him. That’s likely due to the fact that it is not the hero but one of his multiple personalities doing the good on screen. And scarily it is even more likely due to the fact that you have been steeped and soaked in a society of habitual rule breakers, that the significance of a few rules side stepped doesn't hit you that hard!

Dreams of the past, and of the present...

2005-06-11T17:09:00.000-05:00

Adhu Oru Kanaa Kaalam

The music Ilayaraja has made for Balu Mahendra is all about moods. The melancholy Kanne Kalaimane(Moondram Pirai) that lulls you to sleep, the sultry Ponmeni(MP), one of the sureshot nominees for the mother of all item numbers, the psychedelic Vaan Engum(MP) , the dark,almost psychotic En Iniya Pon Nilave(Moodu Pani), the hinting at the tragic Veedu theme. The moods have as much to do with some mesmerising music as with the breathtaking visuals and with the movies themselves. So to listen to Adhu Oru Kanaa Kaalam without seeing the songs is like eating half a meal. And this half a meal truly leaves you with an aching hunger, a hunger for the Ilayaraja of yore.

Andha Naal Nyabagam is a mere shade of the classic Ilayaraja melody, yet it is an excellent number sung beautifully by Shreya Ghosal-the clear, sweet quality her voice has lending an entire new dimension to the song. Vijay Yesudas does an equally competent job and without being harsh and comparing him with his father, one must say he definitely has talent.

Kaatu Vazhi is going to have Ilayaraja, the singer's fans rooting. But he scrapes rock bottom with the pitch, trying to sing as low as low can be, which tends to be almost recitative at times. But this song will definitely grow on you particulary because of the interesting fusion of musical styles and the novel orchestration.

If you want to take a virtual trip down time to the glorious hey days of Ilayaraja in the 70’s and the 80’s, then Kili Thattu is the song you should be listening to. The kids’ chorus, the magical interludes, and Bhavatharini and Jyothi singing in tandem, and yet singing as one, if ever that was possible, transport you to a entirely different plane . Bhavatharini has transformed so spectacularly from her Mastana Mastana days, and she even manages to go one up on her award winning Mayil Pola.

Enkitta Modhaadhe(Rajadhi Raja), Raja(Agni Nakshatram), Podhuvaaga En Manasu Thangam(Murattu Kalai) are pretty demanding predeccesors for a hero centric song and Ennada Ninaicha doesn’t even come close. The tavil and guitar make an interesting combination and yet the fizz does seem missing. Balu Mahendra’s penchant for realism can be seen in the lyrics that go Kuchiya polave naan irundhaaal... what a perfect fit for Dhanush!

On the whole, the songs are average and one can only hope that the movie changes this impression and recreates the Balu-Raja magic or we might have to sigh and say Adhu Oru Kanaa Kalam

Oru Naal Oru Kanavu

In sheer contrast, is Fazil’s Oru Naal Oru Kanavu- an instantly likeable, immensely appealing album. I, personally have never favoured Ilayaraja’s scores for Fazil, post Kaadhalukku Mariyadhai because I have always felt it was that movie that marked the inevitable change in style for Raja, when he adapted to the demands of time. I agree Ennai Thalatta varuvalo is a brilliant song (which by the way is largely due to Hariharan) but I always think the synth beats sort of mar the song’s charm. Almost all of Raja’s songs for Fazil after that are indicative of a transitive phase where he is caught between the genius of his orchestration and synthesized music, attempting a challenging marriage between these two. In fact there is one out of place song Iravu Pagalai Theda in all his numbers for Kadhalukku Mariyadhai and Kannukul Nilavu which reeks of vintage Ilayaraja. But with Oru Naal Oru Kanavu, Ilayaraja comes full circle and it’s a sort of a reaffirmation as to why he is the Isaignani.

Katril Varum Geethame takes off from where Yamunai Aaatrile left off and is one of the most splendid showcases of the richness of Carnatic music. Drawing heavily on the classical influences, with the confluence of a host amazing voices this song is definitely a winner. You got to hear the places where the ladies come together in spell binding harmony.

Khajuraho is a definitive break from style, a number that is so un-Ilayaraja like that you might think it was a Vidyasagar or a YSR or why even an ARR who composed it. It only makes you wonder what this man is not capable of composing. Hariharan rocks in this sexy duet which I don't know for some reason, reminds me of Vennilave specifically the Idhu Irullala Idhu Olialla Idhu Rendodum Seradha Pon Neram bit. Guitar interludes, a throbbing synth beat, echo effect in the vocals , one can go on and on..

Enna Paatu Vendum Unakku- a jazzy disco song and Sonu Nigam sings in surprisingly good tamil, so much so that it is difficult to guess that he is singing. And Ponnuku Maapillai, though it has pedestrian lyrics is a must listen for the unexpected transition after the first stanza, where Manjsri sings in solo. You are almost led to believe the song has ended and the next has begun- a technique that Ilayaraja put to use so succesfully in Rakkamma.

Oru Naal Oru Kanavu, makes you think that when speaking about Ilayaraja's days of glory, it is probably too early to say Adhu Oru Kanaa Kalam!

Update: A rather hasty take on Andha Naal Nyabagam....This song doesn't just grow on you...it gets under your skin and fills you up....the slap/tap/pluck style of guitar strumming, the Ho Ho Ho chorus, and the part where Vijay Yesudas goes 'Alai Alaiya....' force me to change my mind....this song will hold its own against any classic Raja melody!

Now playing...in repeat mode.

2005-06-03T11:13:00.000-05:00

Anniyan

Kumari….
Entreating? Beseeching? Pleading his love? Try as I might, I just can’t seem to find the right adjective to describe the way Shankar Mahadevan sings this refreshingly new number and Konji is the most fitting Tamil equivalent I can think of. The honey dripping sweetness in the way he stretches and drags the words is cloying, the nasal twang is overused and the brahminical accent where the ‘s’es become ‘sh’es is exaggerated and yet they all only end up adding to the song’s attractiveness. The stringed instrument which, I figure is the mandolin, does wonders in the interlude and all of the above make Kumari the song of Anniyan.

Andankakka konda kaari….
Harris! Harris! This is probably why you can never be a Rahman! *Shake of the head, clicking noises to show disappointment*
Its great that he is making use of fresh talent like the Lejjavathiye sensation Jassie Gift, but then he should also learn to give them a free rein and let their natural creativeness flow. What has he done to Jassie! The exotic voice goes all awry and you get loud, jarring screamy vocals. Yet all is not lost as a good tune and Shreya Ghoshal come to the party to make this a nice and happening song.

Arindhum Ariyaamalum

Konjam Konjam....
Probably one of the classiest, peppiest numbers I have heard in recent times, this song is in the classic Yuvan Shankar Raja mould. Starting off with a husky, sensuous female voice (Maheeva Kammat), bolstered by a pulsing with energy male chorus, and supported throughout by an underlying bass harmony, this song straightaway sets you in the feet tapping, rhythmic head bobbing mode.

Yen Kannodu...
Most people hail Yuvan Shankar Raja as the next king of Tamil film music, to follow in the footsteps of his illustrious father and A.R.Rahman. And this song is enough evidence of Yuvan’s fabulous talent. Singing in an uncannily Rahmanesque style, blending Arabic influences with trance and haunting vocals, Yuvan gives you a real treat to hear. Purists may complain he is a little off key but I am floored especially at the point where he goes ‘Thaangamudiyaadha Anandam, Thoongamudiyaadha Perinbam”

Sadurangam
This is a gem of an album from Vidyasagar which has gone fairly unnoticed mainly because the movie itself has not been publicized due to release problems. It would be a pity if such great work doesn't get the credit it truly deserves. Vidyasagar seems to be getting better with every movie, if you are willing to ignore Kanaa kanden, which I don’t think is even close to what he is capable of.

Enge Enge....
Enge Enge is a wonderful melody sung exquisitely by Karthik. Check out the sexy bass guitar that runs through the song, the violins, the flute and the saxophone in the interludes and the overall arrangement-a class act.

Ennai Thandhiduven...
The tabla and the vocals of Karthik and Srileka are the lifeline of this duet. The beginning seems oddly reminiscent of a combination of Snehidane and Evano Oruvan from Alaipayuthe and the song transitions into a fast paced, lively number. The Thana Dhom Thanana singing in the interlude is simply fantastic.

Vizhiyum Vizhiyum....
This song, Ladies and Gentlemen, is currently the reigning jukebox queen on my discman. The prelude is in Bengali and I have to accept there is something almost musical about this language that makes it an obsession for Tamil film music directors. An extremely melodious duet, it is almost conversational with Madhu Balakrishnan(who has an almost Jesudas like voice) and Harini, competing with, and complementing each other. The interludes are entirely dominated by the flute and the way the first interlude ends with the bird chirpy tweet is an absolute pleasure to hear. An almost perfect song, which forces you to listen to it again and again and again….

Theories, postulates, fundas and what not!

2005-05-27T12:04:00.000-05:00

The two ship theory

In a moment of inspiration after reading The Life of Pi, I came up with an absolutely simple solution to make sea travel safe. Now considering that the water bodies are so unimaginably vast, it becomes frustratingly difficult to locate survivors of ship wrecks. Now if you can ensure that ships always travel in pairs, which is not a big deal given that a large number of ships go to the same destination, in the event that any calamity befalls one of the ships, help will always be near at sea. So simple that it almost sounds silly, ain’t it? Now, don’t ask me what would happen if the calamity is so damn disastrous that it should affect both ships……

The ‘shaking the foundations of atheism’ postulate

Here’s something that would irrefutably prove that the premise of atheism is flawed. Proceeding under the assumption that majority of atheists are rational believers of science, it would be safe to say that they all accept the act of procreation as entirely biological in nature. So if you start at the youngest living human being and apply a process of recursive-iterative-lineage-routing, or in simple words you continuously trace the parents of every living human being, ultimately you are bound to arrive at the point where you cannot for God’s sake or Whatever’s sake explain how the man and woman who became the first parents were themselves created. Atheists will be tempted to brush this off as an inexplicable anomaly which is rather convenient considering this anomaly has not repeated itself in the entire history of the human race and even more convenient considering that it happened to occur right at the beginning. Now, even if you take into account the various scientific,biological and evolotion based theories, there will still be one living organism whose creation will be an unexplained mystery. As of today, there can be only two possible explanations, one being the presence of a supernatural force, the other being the highly paradoxical suggestion that the creature(s) who/which originated the human race had the ability to create itself/themselves . So, if you are an atheist, are you telling me that you find this self creating super creature more believable than the unexplained force beyond comprehension that we believers choose to call God? You are kidding me right?

Quality-Quantity funda

“How can you love me? You have known me for two months” “You don’t know anything about me. We have been friends for barely a month now” are oft repeated statements that arise out of a monotonously acquired obsession for time in our lives. Time has been drilled into our heads as being overpoweringly important and so instead of we managing our time, we let time manage us-eating on time, sleeping on time, waking up in time, why even gauging our relationships by time, which I find most illogical. Very often you find that the strongest, deepest relationships are formed not because of the length of time spent together but rather beacause of what is done in whatever time spent together. Therefore, ladies and gentlemen, I draw my intensely philosophical conclusion that relationships should be judged not by the quantity of time that took to forge them, but rather by the quality of that time.

Ends and Means

While we are at it, let me also subject you to the enlightening experience of reading what can be described as my philosophical fixation. You must have all heard the proverb ‘The end justifies the means”. My brilliant extension to that is “The end may justify the means, but barring a couple of exceptions, never should the means overshadow the end”. What in essence this machination of my contorted mind means is that how we do it should never be more important than what we are doing it for(no pun on the euphemistic do it intended!). One of the exceptions to this rule is Arts. Arts is one area where how it is done is equally appealing as what it is done for. For instance, not only do we see the story being told in the movie, but we also see with equal interest, the way it is being told. The other more prominent exception is of course our life, where even though we know not where we are headed, all we (should) care about is how we get there.

The paradox

If you have successfully reached here, my reader, let me give you an explanation to what you have read above. You must be wondering, why I made all those obviously apparent, seemingly insignificant observations of life. Well the answer I have is surprisingly simple, these nuggets of wisdom were struggling in the confines of my tiny little mind and what better way to let them be free than this?

Now that you have had a rewardingly cognitive experience, let me ask you a question which I call, the paradox that will replace the chicken and egg. Answer me this..
Who is the greater fool, me who wrote this blog, or you who patiently read it so far?

Bose- Rahmania!

2005-04-28T12:09:00.000-05:00

Allah Rakha Rahman- This man never ceases to amaze me, the sheer musical genius he is. Just as I was recovering from an auditory overdose of Yeh Jo Des hai Tera, he comes up with an absolute stunner of an album- Bose- The forgotten hero.

The pick of the album is obviously Azaadi, sung by the man himself. When it beguns with a Jai Hind refrain, the irony of a Western chorus in a song about the Indian freedom struggle gnaws at you. But when the stirring, passionate vocals of Rahman break free against that orderly orchestration, it is almost symbolic of the Indians rising against the British. Rahman rarely sings in bass and whenever he does as in Vellai Pookal and more recently, Yeh Jo Des Tera, he comes up with mind blowing masterpieces. But in Azaadi, Rahman switches back to his high energy, high scale mode and you cannot help but be moved by the patriotic fervour and emotionally charged intensity with which he sings, filling you up with an amazingly nice feeling. Here is a man who makes music and sings, right from the bottom of his heart. As the song builds up into an overpowering crescendo, the holding-his-breath alaap he does in the end, subdues all the Western influences, paling them into relative insignificance.

If there is anything else that inspires Rahman as much as Maniratnam and patriotic themes, it is his intense faith in God and Sufism. Following in the line of Piya Haji Ali(Fiza), Noor-Un-Allah(Meenaxi), and Fanaa(Yuva) comes the stunning Zikr. Zikr in Sufism signifies a persistant remembrance of God, an all-else forgetting state where you think only about Him. Zikr, the song epitomizes that meaning, with hymn like intonations, heavy harmony, and Rahman’s voice yet again, combining to produce a soothing, yet stimulating number. The powerful effect this song had on me, in spite of me being of a different faith and scarcely understanding the words is enough testimony to the magic of this man’s music.

The last period patriotic album Rahman composed was The Legend of Bhagat Singh and it is difficult to hear Bose without a hangover from that. It is tempting to draw anologies- like a Ghoomparani for a Jogiya, a Des ki mitti for a Sarfaroshi ki tamanna. But once you shrug that off, you are able to truly appreciate the majesty and grandeur of this album. There is a delectable spread of close to twenty tracks with nearly 7-8 instrumentals. To review each of those tracks would be a study in music by itself. The other songs that make an immediate impression are- Des ki Mitti- Sonu Nigam revels in this melodious song which involves considerable voice modulation and Ekla Chalo- begins with Bengali lyrics and progresses into a beautiful song. The instrumentals would make a stronger impression when the movie is released. However, the Afghanistani theme with an operatic female solo and a middle-eastern feel does beckon a special mention. I share the popular notion that Rahman’s music has a tendency to grow on you. The commonest argument against this is that you can either like or dislike music, hearing it once or twice, and there is no point in repeated listening. But Rahman’s compositions are so rich and there is so much variety that there are bound to be distracting influences. Just as you need to look intently at a cluttered painting to discern the various elements and appreciate the art, you need to hear his music more than just once or twice to get its true feel.

Listen to this album today, for, what is bliss but an endless loop of Rahman songs!

Mumbai Xpress- Roller coaster breakdown

2005-04-20T05:44:00.000-05:00

Mumbai Xpress opens with Vaiyapuri, Pasupathy and Dheena sitting and rehearsing their kidnap plan, a plan that sounds so incredibly stupid that it sets the perfect platform for some hilarious moments. Kamalhaasan, an innocent stunt bike driver is drawn by circumstance into this Baby’s Day Outish scheme and things begin to move in top gear and comic sequences cascade into one another. When things proceed at such a frenetic pace, you know that it is hard to keep the momentum going and things are bound to slow down. And that is precisely what happens when Kamalhaasan and Manisha meet, bringing in the weakest link of the screenplay. It seems as though Kamalhaasan stopped midway while writing the dialogues saying “Hold on! What the hell am I doing! This is Crazy Mohan’s job!” and decided to switch to a more familiar territory- emoting sentiments. An absolutely ridiculous love story is allowed to develop on such a fickle premise that if it was intended to be funny, it isn’t so and if it was intended to be serious, just how dumb did Kamalhaasan take his audience to be. It is not as though his comic hits are devoid of sentiment and melodrama. But the key element is that the melodrama has always been fleeting, never been allowed to linger, like “passing clouds”. The moment it stays longer than it should, it distracts the audience and ruins all the hard work done by the comedy.

But before I turn hypercritical, it is not as though Mumbai Xpress is without its moments. A horse that bites anything put before it, downright dumb questions with perfect timing from Vaiyapuri, a neat cameo by Ramesh Arvindh, deft play of words, the off-key school band and Kamalhaasan’s histrionics- particularly the facial expressions after the traffic cop encounter make for some great entertainment. People have been raving about Pasupathy’s role, but I for one feel that there is no major difference in his acting. Rather, it is one hell of an intelligent and innovative casting. The reasoning is quite simple-take Pasupathy, a fabulous actor who has been typecast in serious, negative roles. On screen, people around him have always feared him making him appear the villain. Take the same Pasupathy, give him an almost similar role, but, this time make the people around him absolute bungling idiots, who frustrate him, make him bang his head in exasperation and Voila! Humour is born. (Wow! I am amazed at my own genius in coming up with this!).

Towards the end of the movie, Kamal decides to redeem himself by jump-starting the comedy track again but the novelty, which was present in the beginning, disappears. Mistaken identities and misinterpretations, clichéd they may be, nevertheless provide comic relief after definitely avoidable deviations. Nasser, Santhanabarathy and Sharad Saxena come and go in neat roles and in true Kamalhassan style the movie ends breaking one of Tamil cinema’s unwritten rules-that characters who lust after money should either be evil or funny. When they are neither, like Manisha is, it leaves a lot of untied ends and a dissatisfied audience. One cannot help but be reminded of Thiruda Thiruda when in the end both Prashant and Anand ditch Heera for the loot and the credits roll on this light hearted, unambiguous note. But in Mumbai Xpress, the end is abrupt and hasty and a lot of questions, particularly involving Manisha’s change of heart remain unanswered. It doesn’t make much sense to question the logic in a funny movie, but some things in Mumbai Xpress are too glaring to be ignored.

It is good to hear that this movie has been shot in digital format, which saves the producers a packet, but it is not as good to see. The picture does appear blurred and grainy at times and I am ignorant of the technical fundas behind whether that happens due to bad filming or bad projection. On the whole, Mumbai Xpress starts quite promisingly in top gear but loses steam in the middle only to struggle and chug past the end. The magic of the Singeetham-Kamal combination is there, but it is patchy and does not last the entire movie. That is possibly because when Singeetham made Michael Madana Kama Rajan, Kamal was more of an actor, less of a director, or a screenplay,dialogue writer. But today it is difficult differentiating all these inextricably intertwined entities in him. He is almost like one body with many heads, someone who is amazing to watch on screen, but difficult to direct from behind it.

Chandramukhi- Return of substance

2005-04-18T04:04:00.000-05:00

There is confetti in the aisles, there are ear splitting whistles, there are ecstatic screams of ‘Thalaiva! Thalaiva’, and they are saying that the king is back. But, I being the unbiased, level headed, movie critic I think myself to be, beg to differ. I do not agree that Rajnikanth has returned to form. I opine that substance has returned to Rajni’s movies and though the compromises to cater to his style and image have not gone, they have definitely been underplayed. Frankly speaking, I walked into the theatre dreading the massacre of Manichitra Thaazhu to make it superstar compatible. But thankfully, they have respected the beauty of the original and have been remarkably faithful to it. And that powerful story is the reason why Chandramukhi will be a hit.

I have greater respect for Rajnikanth, the actor than Rajnikanth, the superstar. There is a popular school of thought that believes that Rajni’s sale-ability and fan following is purely due to his style. But I strongly feel that the movies where his style was prominent were all backed by stories of substance. Agreed that it is exhilarating to see him pop a cigarette into his mouth, see sparks fly when he walks, see him fly around whacking the baddies and mouth those sensational punch lines. But it is not so, if that is what the movie is all about. And fortunately for Rajni, the plot of Chandramukhi is brilliant.

Rajnikanth plays the psychiatrist friend of Prabhu and his wife Jyotika. The couple move into a palace, which as legend has it, is supposedly haunted by the spirit of a court dancer called Chandramukhi. Strange unexplained events begin happening in the palace and that makes Prabhu seek Rajni’s help. How Rajni investigates the issue and solves the mystery behind the haunting forms the rest of the story. The Malayalam version directed by Fazil was far ahead of its times. Brilliant performances by Shobhana and Mohanlal, and the handling of the theme with great finesse make it one of the best thrillers ever made in India. Chandramukhi is a decent replica of the original. Jyothika garners all accolades in a very good role, a role almost well suited to her tendency to overact. Prabhu is adequate in his role and Vadivelu provides good comic entertainment. It is very difficult not to draw comparisions between Mohanlal and Rajnikanth. While Mohanlal played a subdued, subtle role Rajnikanth brings in the flamboyance and charisma that go with his superstar image to that role. Popular opinion is that a glow has returned to his face, a glow that was conspicuously missing in Baba. But then the rest of his body does not seem to keep pace with that renewed youth. Most of his movements are scratchy and contrived. It is highly obvious that the smooth, stylish, fluid grace seen in Alex Pandian, Manick Baasha is just not there anymore.

A special mention is due to Vidyasagar who is evidently in the peak of his career. Though the initial response was quite lukewarm to the music, the way the songs have been picturised on screen give the music a new vigor. Annanoda paatu and Devuda absolutely rock on screen, taking us back to the days of the high-energy songs of Rajni. But it is for Raa Raa that Vidyasagar decides to reserve his best. It is almost as if he has shrugged off the pressures and compulsions of making music for the superstar and done complete justice only to the theme of the movie to give us a splendingly haunting number.

Its in the latter half of the movie that flashes of vintage Rajni are visible. Towards the climax, when Rajnikanth walks with a band of men, in a style uncannily similar to Baasha, it is a goose- pimple raising experience and just for an instant you forget the cinema of the Maniratnams and the Kamalhaasans, care a damn about substance and story and screenplay, lose yourself in an illogical yet enduring facet of Indian Cinema- where style and attitude rule, where hero worship is the order of the day, where perfectly normal, sane humans scream themselves hoarse with cries of ‘Devuda! Devuda!’

The Life of Pi - Imagine....

2005-04-05T03:15:00.000-05:00

Imagine a sixteen-year-old boy adrift in the midst of the Pacific Ocean. Imagine him alone on a lifeboat, with the fact that his parents and brother have drowned, weighing upon his loneliness, his life, as he knew it, shattered, nothing left for him to live for. Now, imagine him with an indefatigable will to survive, an unflappable faith in God and a royal Bengal tiger for company. On such a tantalizing setting, proceeds, The Life of Pi- the Booker prize winning novel by Yann Martel, tracing a magical journey that starts from the once-upon-a-time French colony of Pondicherry in South India.

The premise upon which this novel is built is thought provoking. The purpose, which we attach to life, is governed predominantly by whom we love and what we own. So when you lose both of these, does life cease to be purposeful? Is it not easy to give in, lose resolve, and become disillusioned as to what the point of living life is? But in such trying times, a deeper truth appears upon you, when you realize that there is no fixed purpose to life, when you realize that living for yourself is a purpose, and living life to experience life itself is a purpose. And when such realization dawns, there are other elements that you look towards, to lend meaning to your life, like belief in God or like co-existing with a wild beast! And that is precisely what Piscine Molitor Patel does in The Life of Pi. As the sole human survivor of a sunken cargo ship, he looks at establishing his superiority over a 450-pound tiger, his companion on the lifeboat, which is the only way to survive, as the purpose of his life.

Yann Martel uses the simplest of language, and a casual style to create such vivid lasting pictures. He plays on your imagination, making you see the reality of having to survive with a wild animal, the desperation that the need to survive can drive one to, and how in some situations the most unexpected things can fill you with a want to live. The fact that Pi is a zoo owner’s son makes him better equipped to understand the psyche of the tiger and Yann gives some spectacular insights into the animal world, the mind of the animals, and how they think and behave. The small paragraph where he analogises a zoo to a hotel and the description of the strategy to establish domination over the tiger, makes very nice reading. It is when Pi is adrift and learning the means of surviving, that the strength of Yann’s writing comes to the fore. The four days I was reading the novel, even at times when I was not reading, there was this subconscious worry for Pi at the back of my mind, and the feeling of being adrift seemed to pervade.

The transformation of Pi from being vegetarian to eating raw fish, turtle meat and drinking turtle blood is so realistic that you don’t feel the least bit of revulsion or disbelief. And even when he tries eating tiger feces and casually accepts tasting bits of human flesh, you can understand that, it is what anybody in his position might be forced to do. And as Pi settles into a routine, he finds solace and purpose in prayer, in appreciating the beauty- of marine life, of a moonlit star-filled night sky, of the feline grace of the tiger, and in imagining mammoth sized portions of all his favorite foods. And finally after an adventure in an oasis like, yet dark and mysterious, island and an encounter with a fellow drifter in the Pacific, Pi manages to reach land.

Pi goes on to narrate his story to two Japanese officials from the Japanese ministry of Transport, who are investigating the cause of the sinking of the ship. They listen to him with complete skepticism and disbelief and they assume that his tale of surviving with a tiger is just fiction-a result of his traumatic experience. And to humor them Pi goes on to tell them a different version, uncannily similar to the original, but which he tailors to make it seem more believable to the investigators. And here comes the true essence of The Life of Pi- Yann Martel destroys the imaginary world he so realistically and painstakingly built for the readers by sowing a few seeds of the dangerous weed called doubt in their minds. Till that point, I had no qualms about believing whatever he had described, and not for an instant did I doubt its veracity nor question its plausibility. But the moment he offers a more common, a more tangible version of the story, an uncertainty sets in and you wonder if it was all just a creation of Pi’s imagination. And it ultimately boils down to what you want to believe- the tangible or the magical. And I chose the latter for, in it I see- a tale of indomitable courage and resilience, a suggestion of the existence of forces beyond our understanding, that most choose to call God and a message that beyond the emotional, the physical and the material, the purpose of life is to live….

Kadhal- Kalaindha kanavugal, Kadharum ullangal, Oru kaneer kaviyam....

2005-03-13T11:42:00.000-06:00

Why do we make fully conscious efforts to subject ourselves to depression, sorrow and tragedy? Why do we seek sadness and grief? Why do we of our own accord, watch movies like Sethu,Devdas, Moondram Pirai and Kadhal and end up liking them? What is it about pathos that draws us to it? Movies were meant to be entertainment. Movies like other art forms became a vehicle for thoughts, ideas, and opinions; became a tool to highlight social issues; became intellectual stimulants; became thought provoking. But I can’t see what is entertaining or thought provoking about unrequited love, unfulfilled love, death, separation, madness. And that is precisely why I can’t explain why we see and like movies about all of these…

Kadhal is about love, the enduring theme of all arts which lends itself to infinite perspectives and interpretations. Kadhal is about the highs and lows of love, its intense strength, its capacity to scar lives, its submission to the overpowering trivialities of life, and yet its resilience in being not merely lyrically, but truly eternal. Kadhal is the story of a small town mechanic falling in love with the daughter of a rich, powerful, influential and violent(adjectives that always go together, at least in the movies) man. An impending arranged marriage for the girl forces the young lovers to elope to the city to get married with the help of a friend in the hope that, that sacred bond would protect them from all worldly forces. They are found on the very day they get married and brought back to their small town with reassurances of acceptance and forgiveness only for their world to be shattered cruelly.

There is nothing refreshing or novel about Kadhal- an oft repeated theme of love beyond financial, social and caste barriers, a too good to be true uncle who according to expectations, reveals his darker side at the opportune moment and friends and strangers who would do anything for love. What makes it different is that it explores the innocence of first love, the doubts, the hesitations, the vacillations, the impulsive decisions, the tendency to think with the heart and not with the mind. There is not a single discordant note or an incongruent piece in the portrayal of this love- a love that is simple and true, a love that has such trivial beginnings and transforms into a deep rooted and overwhelming feeling between two souls. Kadhal is just one among millions of untold, unknown lost tales, tales that are set in towns far removed from the city, tales of old fashioned love, love that is so very different from the coffee pub wooing, sms coochy cooing city love. The characters barring the young lovers in Kadhal are loud and violent, but definitely not unnatural. There is heartwarming intensity in the freshness of young love and there is heart wrenching agony in the way the movie ends.

Balaji Sakthivel makes a giant leap forward from his amateurish Samurai with a sensitive and realistic handling of this theme. And the songs are seamlessly inserted into the flow, enhancing the movie every bit. Joshua Sridhar makes a spectacular debut- Unakenna and Thottu Thottu are masterpieces. The background score also shows flashes of brilliance-the vocals in the scenes where Murugan follows Aiswarya, and the fading theme at the moment of the lover’s separation stand out. Bharath impresses with a splendid performance. The Bharaths and Dhanushes are an indication of the attitude of the tamil film watching public, who have traditionally gauged an actor more by his talents than by his looks.

Kadhal is a grim reminder to the fact that religion and the caste system have become so ingrained in our society that they continue to exert a major influence on people’s thoughts and opinions. “What society will think or say?” is a question that affects everyday decisions, especially those that involve love. Though segments of society have moved ahead and become more receptive to change, a considerable majority continues to stagnate in an obsolete, antiquated attitude. It is a pity that the very devices we created, control us to such a great extent. How much ever we attempt to deny facts by saying that we need not care about what other people think, it becomes extremely difficult to put that into practice. Man is not merely a social animal, but partially a social slave, moulding his thoughts and actions according to how they will be accepted by society.

That brings me back to my original question. What is it about pathos that draws us to it? Do we sympathise, or to be more precise, empathise with the characters on screen? Do we put ourselves in their shoes, relive our scarred memories, find solace in learning that others have been through what we have been through? Or do we find ourselves unburdened of our troubles and worries, in seeing them as insignificant, when compared to those portrayed on screen? Or maybe it is because amidst all the misery, sadness and despair, all that we see is the power of the love that caused it all, the love that lives on........

The Mahatma and the Martyr- II

2005-03-07T03:31:00.000-06:00

A chance meeting between the Mahatma and the Martyr in heaven:

Gandhiji looks up with uncertainty and hesitation, “ I am sorry that I did not fight for your release. I could have….and I should have”

Bhagat Singh watches him with a mischievous smile and says, “ It is a little too late to be sorry. Isn’t it, Bapu?”

Gandhiji replies “It is just that I was foolish enough to think that any act that would help you in anyway would be a digression from my path of Ahimsa. But in being passive I had effectively sided with the British in their judgment against you, a fellow Indian. I had to make a choice, selfishly stick to my principles of Ahimsa or aid you-a perpetrator of violence for the cause of Indian freedom,the very same cause I started this Ahimsa for. I chose the means and ignored the end. A poor choice, an unforgivable failing…”

“I cannot expect you to get me out when you were in no way responsible for getting me in. Can I? I made my own destiny. It would be a shame if I wasn’t willing to face it. But you ensured that I did not die in vain. You were there to ensure that my Des, my Jaan was free. We were fighters for the same cause after all…”

“We were fighters for the same cause albeit in wholly different ways”

“How true! How true! My way demanded that I alone make sacrifices. Your way demanded that everyone else make sacrifices too”

“Bhagat, Life is a cycle of sacrifices, some that you make on your own, some that you are forced to make. Didn’t your way expect your kith and kin to sacrifice you? Didn’t your way demand the sacrifice of British lives? Didn’t your way involve the sacrifice of a wrong life? Did you not kill the wrong policeman?”

“They were all the same. Each was as guilty as the other. Whether we killed him by choice or circumstance makes no difference”

“Then why did you not plan to kill him originally? Killing is not right. Killing the wrong man can never be right, Bhagat”

“Maybe, Bapu. But Bapu, are you not hurt that the very people you sacrificed everything for, speak low of you, accuse you and malign you”

“Bhagat, the ignorant mean no malice. And those who do bear malice feign ignorance. The former, I forget. The latter I forgive. But you tell me. What do you think of these accusations?”

“Bapu, our countrymen today create and live in sewers, and then complain that the streets they walked through are dirty. The streets that you and I and so many others painstakingly built….You and I sailed on different rivers to reach the same sea. But the people of today are hell-bent on splitting the sea back into the rivers that make it. Why would I even stop and listen to their accusations? Your actions made you a Mahatma, their words can do nothing to undo that.”

“Hmmmm….I am but an ordinary man. Hey Ram! When is another Bhagat Singh going to be born to purge this nation? Bhagat, Have I told you how the Bhagavad Gita embeds the message of non-violence in a fabric of violence? Coming to think of it, violence and non-voilence need each other to co-exist, to themselves be complete…just like you and I. Haha…Come, let us walk this way”

“That would make an interesting discussion. Hold my hand Bapu”

“Hope you do not lead me astray from my path of Ahimsa, Bhagat”

“If only I could, Bapu, If only I could……”

The Mahatma and the Martyr- I

2005-03-07T03:19:00.000-06:00

I begin writing this blog with the complete awareness that I am grossly unqualified, too small statured, and insignificant in comparison, to be commenting or judging or making interpretative observations about two great souls because of whom I enjoy my freedom today. In spite of this, I write because I want to. My sincere apologies, unabashed admiration and utmost respect are due to Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi and Shahid Bhagat Singh.

I have seen the most contrasting of emotions when it comes to these two freedom fighters. I have seen a friend of mine, usually stoic and callous, weep when we were watching the climax of ‘The Legend of Bhagat Singh’-the scene where Bhagat Singh goes to the gallows, bidding farewell to his mother, bidding her to be strong so that he may also be that way. I have seen the same friend seethe with rage at the sight of the Mahatma, a few scenes before. I have also heard and read nasty, disrespectful, unbearable things about the Mahatma, which could make any insult a Britisher would have given him, seem a compliment. “The fact that our History books have brain washed us to respect this man does not imply that it is sacrilegious to find faults with him, form opinions contrary to the popular, or hate and disrespect him” is an argument I can clearly recall. Sounds good, but I would like to hear the same things being said after experiencing- one lathi charge where a stick half the thickness of your wrist comes thrashing into your bones shattering them, one shooting order where you see the person next to you having his brains blown out, one day in jail, separated from all comforts, denied the most basic of human rights. I know it is stupid to say that you have to have experienced something yourself, to comment on it. But then, the right to freedom of thought, speech and expression is grossly misunderstood and ridiculously misused by most people today, so much so that they make atrocious judgments and form unreasonable opinions.

Bhagat Singh was and is the quintessential hero among freedom fighters. There can be no questioning his popularity, nor will it be easy to find an Indian who does not respect or admire this martyr, and rightfully so. Being ready to give up your life for a struggle whose fruits you are not going to enjoy is nothing but a supreme sacrifice. And to do that at 23 years! I don’t really know if I would have had the courage to do the same as Bhagat Singh had I been in his position. He epitomizes what patriotism stands for.

The Mahatma, on the other hand has been thoroughly misunderstood by a sizeable number of people today. People accuse him of being single handedly responsible for the partition of India, of delaying the achievement of freedom by advocating Ahimsa, of using the “convenience” of being a leader to achieve things by endangering other people’s lives, and of doing nothing to prevent Bhagat Singh and his comrades executions. My unbiased opinions as well as a partial defense of one of the greatest souls to have walked this earth:

Ahimsa: Non violence was Gandhiji’s greatest success and his biggest failure too. Diseases are contagious, but, it is a pity that cures are not. The same analogy applies to the disease called violence and non-violence, which Gandhiji saw as a cure to it. Unfortunately a single violent person is enough to disrupt the fabric of peace whereas it requires every one to be non-violent to maintain it. And Gandhiji saw that impossible dream, a dream which he believed in so much, that he was willing to abandon all reason, all logic in his quest to achieve that dream.

Single handed responsibility?: Of all the baseless accusations that can be thrown at the Mahatma, this definitely takes the cake. Gandhiji was not a despot, not a military leader, not a tyrant, not a dictator. He had no physical control over the people of India, nor was he solely responsible for charting the course of India’s freedom struggle. It is nothing but stupidity to hold the Mahatma single handedly responsible for anything. The people of India were under no compulsion to follow him and yet they did, not in fear but in respect, love and awe. If you would call Gandhiji’s actions foolish, then what would you call the actions of the thousands and lakhs of Indians, many of whom might be your ancestors, who followed him out of their own free will?

Delayed freedom: Would freedom have been achieved faster if everyone had gone the Bhagat Singh way? Was Gandhiji the factor that delayed the achievement of freedom? You and I are in no position to pass judgment on that. Is it not reasonable to believe that if, the people involved in the freedom struggle had thought that a path of violence was quicker to attain freedom, they would have chosen it wholeheartedly? Gandhiji was not a democratically elected leader who holds office for 5 years irrespective of whether people like him or not. Whether people had freedom from the British or not, they definitely had the freedom to choose the leader they wanted to follow. It would not be wrong to say that the British feared Gandhiji’s nonviolent ways more than Bhagat Singh’s violent ways. The latter was their cup of tea; they knew how to handle it. But what could you do to a bunch of people who passively and unflinchingly took all you gave them and yet stood their ground without retaliation? Most importantly, a path of violence absolutely demanded the sacrifice of life one day or the other. It does not imply that the followers of Gandhi were not prepared to lay their lives down, but there was always the possibility that it would not come to that.

A shield called leadership: Gandhiji’s devotion to the cause of non-violence was so overpowering that like it happens in life, the means gained more importance than the end itself. Not only did he want freedom, he was obsessed to achieve it by non violent means at whatever cost. To an extent, Gandhiji took a certain liberty with other people’s lives, assuming that they would and should make the sacrifices he was ready to make. To say that beyond a point, Gandhiji was out of harm’s way, and that emboldened him to endanger and put at risk other people would be highly irresponsible. Gandhiji was ever willing to sacrifice his life for the causes he believed in. Even when he was not facing the lathi charges, he subjected himself to the most tortuous of fasts putting himself in equal or more danger of losing his life than his followers. There was a point when it was thought that Gandhiji would die fasting. To say that such a selfless soul would hide behind the shield of leadership would be nothing but an injustice. Of course, as said above, putting other people at risk for his blind belief in the principles of Ahimsa can be considered one little imperfection.

The martyr: The main reason that made me write this piece was the accusation that Gandhiji did nothing to prevent the execution of Bhagat Singh and his comrades, the only accusation that I feel is wholly justified. It appears as though Gandhiji considered using his fasting as a means to buy them pardon as an aberration to his Ahimsa. No amount of justification or explanation can possibly undo this great wrong that Gandhiji committed. He was the only man with the power to do the needful and he did not try to.

Gandhiji had his failings and faults, for after all he was human. Though it is reasonable to expect people to accept the Mahatma’s imperfections, to make baseless accusations would be stretching things too far. And whatever be his imperfections, Gandhiji possessed a dynamic charisma that earned him the awe and respect of the most disparate of people. Any judgment on him would be a judgment on all the Indians who believed and trusted that he would guide them to their freedom, our freedom.

State of uncertainty

2005-02-20T12:31:00.000-06:00

There seems to be an obsession gripping the literary world, an obsession- to question every established human belief, to disprove what has been thought to be true for ages, to create doubts, to make newer stronger propositions, to make you think all that you believe in is just a big damn lie. First there was Dan Brown's The Da Vinci Code; Now there is Michael Crichton's State of fear. Crichton the master of technical thrillers is back at doing what he does best and State of fear is stupendously, excitingly, superbly, awesome but more importantly, it is very different from the rest of his works. Crichton usually comes across as a detached, dispassionate writer but in State of fear, he embarks on a personal crusade, taking digs at environmentalists, celebrities who ignorantly endorse and support such causes, and the layman who believes all that the Media portrays and lives in a perennial state of fear.Obviously, a book always reflects the author's thoughts and opinions, but you can truly feel the strength and passion of Crichton's feelings in the State of fear.

State of fear attempts to invalidate one of the most discussed and the most publicised of environmental issues- Global warming. You cannot help but be in awe of Crichton's extraordinary range of technical expertise- He seems to have a phenomenal knowledge of all that he writes about, be it quantum physics, nanotechnology, biology, engineering or environmental and weather phenomenon. He conveys without a doubt that when it comes to the phenomenon of Global Warming, he is an absolute non believer. He does a scientific and methodical presentation of various studies, research papers and statistics to establish the overreaction towards this environmental phenomenon. There is heavy sarcasm in all the conversations that expose the misinformation that the media spreads and ignorance the layman lives with. He ruthlessly exposes our tendency to believe all that we see and read giving little thought to it and how eagerly we embrace a paranoia- where we fear what we know so little about.

It may seem that Crichton has taken a pro-industry stand as far as environmental issues are concerned. But in fact, he has taken a clear headed, dispassionate and neutral stand. You can feel his angst at how environmentalists have succumbed to using media hype, eco-terrorism, and passively fuelled misinformation on the non-issues just to get the real issues noticed. He suggests a more organised, unbiased system to really bring about change in the way environmental issues are handled. He also gives a beautiful explanation of how man doesn't seem to realise the futility of attempting to control things he has so little knowledge of.
State of fear is a highly intellectual read, encompassing diverse areas such as statistics, science, weather and climate patterns, geological phenomenon and very interestingly psychology which is what the book title is about. There is a very interesting and mind boggling postulation of how human beings are compulsively made to live in a constant state of fear of something or the other.

I have ranted on and on in a dry lecture like fashion, but that is an outcome of not having Crichton's storytelling skills and his extraordinary ability to make classroom stuff interesting and exciting...makes me wish he had been my professor in engineering college!

Okay...so what about the story, the plot, the characters- Unlike his other books, the purpose of State of fear seems to be to express his two cents of thought on environmental issues. The story, characters, sequences become incidental and merely are instruments in getting the thoughts across. However Crichton has retained his cliched and tiring style of having dominant, strong willed female characters and confused, unsure and weaker male characters. Crichton seems to have this feminist overtures seen across all his novels be it Timeline, Congo, Disclosure, or now State of fear. Agreed all men cannot be heroes, but that doesn't mean all are not!

There are of course some glaring portions in the book, one of them being his conflicting notions of the third world countries- he recognises them as being on the path to development, and advocates their need to do so unhampered by environmental sanctions and restrictions; And then in the climax he paints such a poor picture of them- as being backward and undeveloped. Also Crichton's argument for America not signing the Kyoto protocol does not go well with me. Why measure how good something is as long as it is good? The consequences of reducing emissions might not be significant, but then its the cumulative effect of small changes like these that could probably make a difference.

Reading this novel leaves you in a state of uncertainty, where you do not know what to believe and what not to. I am in a state of fear- that everything I believe in is nothing but a lie.....

Speaking of codes and ciphers....

2005-02-08T12:23:00.000-06:00

The waves of the ocean stood still, a flock of birds froze in mid-flight, a group of trees which had till then possessed by the winds stood motionless, all of eternity seemed to stop for an instant.....YES!! I finally managed to do it...before you come to your own perverse conclusions....I finally managed to read Dan Brown's The Da Vinci code! And it by all means deserves all the acclaim and the accolades it has received worldwide...an absolutely riveting read.

The elements Dan Brown uses are time tested and fail proof-Handsome intelligent man, beautiful intelligent female,together in a crisis situation, wanted by the law, hunted by the bad guys- making a non-stop racy storyline till the climax. But what makes the Da Vinci code so remarkable is not the means employed to tell the story but in fact the story itself. A book that attempts to question the very cornerstones on which the faith of Christianity is based on; A book that provides convincing, seemingly concrete arguments and evidence on how the church undermined the divinity of the feminine and established male domination ; A book that makes you sit up and wonder 'Wow! Is this all true?'.

The beauty of fiction based on reality is that it makes the reader tread the uncertain space between what is real and what is made up. A good author makes you think how much of it is really true; A great author fills you with a want to find out the truth for yourself. Dan Brown definitely belongs to the latter category. The Da Vinci code is extremely well researched and the puzzles, ciphers and clues well thought up. Dan also makes references to the chief villain using an epithet, and employs circumstances and situations that distract you to assume his identity. I was gullible enough to reach a conclusion as to who he was, and was pleasantly surprised by the twist in the end.

The Da Vinci Code's tremendous success, considering the fact that a vast majority of the readers follow the very faith that the book questions is a heartening indicator of the open mindedness of Christians worldwide. If it had raised any doubts about the beliefs of Hinduism or Islam, it is not hard to imagine what the repercussions would have been. Given the bloodshed and violence that supposedly went into the establishment of Christianity, it seems to have created far more temperate believers than other religions. After all religion is not about what others believe in, it is about what you believe in. To finish off, the crux of the Da Vinci code is to spread realisation about the sanctity and divinity of the female. Forget all codes and ciphers...isn't She the greatest mystery of all time?

Yeh Jo Des Hai Mera.....

2005-01-29T06:05:00.000-06:00

Have you ever taken a full blown punch in your gut? Do you know what it feels like? Well I don't know too..but I think it would be somewhat similar to how it felt when Shah Rukh Khan in Swades says " How long are we Indians going to be saying- So what if there is poverty, casteism, communalism, corruption, unemployment here. We have our culture and tradition." And he goes on to explain how every other country has its own culture and tradition and that is in now way inferior to ours. That in my opinion was one of the defining moments of Swades. In pointing out the obvious, in stating in the open a fact which we all know and yet choose to ignore, in making a simple but candid observation, that it is high time we stop brushing all our dirt under the carpet of our Sanskar and Parampara, Ashutosh Gowrikar makes a powerful impact with Swades.

This is not a review of Swades, because, for once, I feel words will not suffice in doing justice to the experience of watching this movie. A realistic screenplay, brilliant portrayals by the cast and magical music make this movie a classic. Some of the things in the movie that affected me:

The reunion: The characterisation and casting of Kaveriamma was most appropriate- affable, instantly lovable, at times fragile, at times the pillar of support you need, and most importantly without a hint of artificiality- making her so easy to relate to. The scene where Shah Rukh meets her in Charanpur was beautifully crafted. There was no melodrama, none of the famed Bollywood senti overdoses, and no dialogues!! You could feel the emotions, the happiness that can make you cry with joy.....

Hunger and Thirst: The scenes where Shah Rukh comes face to face with the stark realities of India- the weaver turned farmer who is ashamed because of his inability to pay his debt, his family who sacrifice their meal and go hungry just to see their weary guests enjoy a decent dinner, the boy who screams his throat hoarse selling water to quench other people's thirst.
What makes Swades so special is the fact that the scenes convey far more than the words spoken- the look of absolute helplessness in the weaver's eyes, the unbridled sorrow when he breaks down. Shah Rukh has given his best performance to date- the quivering fingers when he takes the water, the heartfelt sadness he conveys through his teary eyes. The trademark stammer in his dialogue delivery is missing, but even if it was present it would have seemed so naturally indicative of him being choked by his feelings......

Ye Jo des Hai Tera: A.R Rahman- need I say more.....undoubtedly the best song he has sung so far, the heartfelt emotions, the power of Javed Akthar's words, the haunting Shehnai, you can feel your insides melt, a warmth spread deep inside you, a difficult to describe pleasant uneasiness envelop you, you can feel the soul of India calling out to you.....

Swades is not pathbreaking; It is an honest attempt to tell us Indians to see what is right before our eyes. I also don't subscribe to the common opinion that it is a call to the NRIs all over the world. In my opinion, it is a call to every Indian to make his boondh of contribution towards a saagar of betterment of his country. Swades does not make me drop everything I am doing and go find a village to build a hydroelectric plant( not that I remember enough of my electrical engineering!); But it manages to plant a germ of a feeling within me....a feeling that someday, sometime in the future, I should try and do a little something for my country.......

A rainy afternoon in Calcutta……

2005-01-22T09:09:00.000-06:00

I was curious to see a Rituparno Ghosh movie after hearing and reading about the critically acclaimed Choker Bali. I was pretty much bored to death, and in spite of hearing that Raincoat was painfully slow paced and empty, I decided to go ahead and watch it. Well, Ghosh paints a poignant picture of selfless sacrificing lovers, infused with subtleties and symbolisms on a gloomy, wet monsoon canvas. Did that make sense? I thought that’s how a quasi art quasi commercial movie review usually is….. Okay let me cut the crap and get to what I really wanted to write about….

Raincoat (inspired by O.Henry’s ‘Gift of the Magi’) is a movie that is nice in parts and dull and lifeless in most. The storyline is pretty simple, Ajay Devgan and Aishwarya Rai play estranged lovers who meet after a long time. Though mired in problems of their own, they lie to each other about how they couldn’t be doing better in their lives. This act meanders on and finally culminates in them making selfless sacrifices to ensure each other’s happiness.

Ajay Devgan’s characterization is very realistic- foolishly in love, the kind who makes you bang your head in frustration when he wants to give away all he has for his love, when all he has is nothing. It is Aishwarya Rai who comes across as a little cold and artificial. In an effort to portray woman as being more practical in dealing with unfulfilled love affairs and having the ability to move on in life, Ghosh makes Aishwarya appear cranky and indifferent- as though she really doesn’t care much about not marrying Ajay Devgan.

There are some aspects which stand out in the movie- soulful and stirring Hindustani classical music with special credit due to Shubha Mudgal(What a voice!!); The rain which becomes such an integral character in the scenes, so much so that it seems to pervade the atmosphere around the viewer too; the short but beautiful conversations between Ajay Devgan and his friend’s wife; And the subtle but unexpected twist in the climax.

On the whole, Raincoat was like a firecracker with a really long fuse- Initially, the anticipation keeps you interested in the burning fuse, but as it goes on and on, you feel frustrated and the sputter in the end makes you wonder if it was really worth the long wait…

Vakrathunda Mahaakaaya.....

2005-01-09T10:20:00.000-06:00

Vakrathunda Mahakaaya Sooryakoti Samaprabha
Avighnam Kuru Me' Deva, Sarva Kaaryesu Sarvadhaa.

My first blog....an invocation to Lord Vinayaka...the destroyer of obstacles, the God to pray to before beginning anything....and before I start sounding more religious than I really am....5 random streams of thought that come into my mind when I think of Him....

A symbol of hope? Elephant faced, pot bellied, broken tusk.....Who would give you a second look(other than a "Look at this freak!" stare) if you were like that?....But He has it all-the adulation,the adoration, the love and faith of millions....Is He trying to tell us..."We all have our faults, we are all different from one other..but We are what we think we can be......."

Did he drink or did he not? Call it blind faith, mass hysteria, scientific phenomenon but it still remains an inexplicable enigma as to whether He did or did not drink milk....

One God,Infinite forms From the abstract to the profound, this God's idol has been created in the most myriad of forms.....with people getting more creative by the day, He has been made to appear from a hibiscus flower, leaves of a plant and just a naturally formed rock....

Hariharan!! I said random streams of thought...Didn't I? Well the debut of the Colonial Cousins....the deep baritone of Hari singing the same prayer, fusing it with different forms and styles of music.....I can still imagine each word resounding clearly in my ear......

Communalism... It is indeed a pity that this supreme God has been forced to bear witness to the ugly face of Indian Communalism....The Immersion processions, where they go through, strategic routing to taunt and to incite... these so called protecters of Hinduism belittle their faith....vilify His name......