Folks, this one occurred right within an hour ago to me today.
And I am laughing hard even as I am typing.
Everything began with me seeking a belt for my favourite pair of jeans. Anyone who's been on a belt-hunt in Patna will agree with me that it's no mean task. From the footpath peddlers to the Lee/Levi’s shop assistant – each failed to sell me a belt that was buyable. Too broad, too bright, too tawdry, too expensive…this ‘too’ refused to stay away.
Except today, when while walking down the aisle of a nice mall, I came across just the right thing!
“Can you show me one just like this, but for adults?”
The shopkeeper kept looking at me stupidly.
“Huh?”
“One, just like this one”, (here I took the thingummy in hand), “but for adults, not children.”
Mom came behind my back, ever alert to prevent me buying something that I didn’t really need, as I am wont to do.
“What is all this, what do you need a belt for?”
“Mom, for my denims, what else do people need belts for!”
Before she could say anything the shop assistant chimed animatedly.
“But Madam, this belt is for dogs.”
Thursday, 20 December 2007
Monday, 17 December 2007
Ek Ruka Hua Faisla.
Director - Basu Chatterjee
Actors - K.K. Raina, Annu Kapoor, Pankaj Kapoor, S.M. Zaheer, Hemant Mishra, and others
Nature - Telefilm
Year - 1986
Channel - Doordarshan
One man against eleven, in a closed room. One man, arguing peacefully, in the face of heated oppostion, for what he believes is right - viz. any human life is expensive and should not be jeopardized without ample thought.
His weapon - logic.
His asset - doubt. A doubt which he recognizes, tries to clarify rationally and unbiasedly.
His enemies - eleven men, some of whom are sarcastic, some angry, some indifferent and all of them impatient.
The end - His victory.
This is a hindi re-make of 12 Angry Men, a 1957 Hollywood movie which is in turn based on a play of the same title penned by Reginald Rose.
My review will take three words only - An Objectivist's delight.
Check out the movie on You Tube.
The lone-ranger protagonist played by K.K. Raina is an architect by profession!
Actors - K.K. Raina, Annu Kapoor, Pankaj Kapoor, S.M. Zaheer, Hemant Mishra, and others
Nature - Telefilm
Year - 1986
Channel - Doordarshan
One man against eleven, in a closed room. One man, arguing peacefully, in the face of heated oppostion, for what he believes is right - viz. any human life is expensive and should not be jeopardized without ample thought.
His weapon - logic.
His asset - doubt. A doubt which he recognizes, tries to clarify rationally and unbiasedly.
His enemies - eleven men, some of whom are sarcastic, some angry, some indifferent and all of them impatient.
The end - His victory.
This is a hindi re-make of 12 Angry Men, a 1957 Hollywood movie which is in turn based on a play of the same title penned by Reginald Rose.
My review will take three words only - An Objectivist's delight.
Check out the movie on You Tube.
The lone-ranger protagonist played by K.K. Raina is an architect by profession!
Wednesday, 12 December 2007
Where did the new age Hindi writer go?
I went to visit the Patna Book Fair today (11/12/2007). And trust me, I was impressed. A voice blaring on the loud speaker told me that it was the second-largest book fair in the nation – second only to Kolkata’s book fair – and I was inclined to believe it. Some of the best publication houses had their stalls and had chosen to come up with some rare collections and publications at concession rates, much to the bibliophile’s delight.
Stall after stall I walked slowly, almost awed by the collection. I had not read many Hindi books after Hindi stopped to be a part of my academic curriculum nearly ten years ago. A beautiful feeling of nostalgia washed over me as I recalled the half-forgotten names like Yashpal, Sumitranandan Pant, Krishan Chandar, Mohan Rakesh, Jayshankar Prasad, Mahadevi Verma, Subhadra Kumari Chauhan – whose short stories, essays and poems had been part of my syllabus. More names popped up before my eyes that I remembered hearing in my grandpa’s literary discussions with his friends. Fanishwarnath Renu, Jainendra, Aashapurna Devi, Ramvriksha Benipuri, Harimohan Jha. Then some familiar names, with unfamiliar books. Munshi Premchand, Ramdhari Singh 'Dinkar', Maithilisharan Gupt, Surykant Tripathi ‘Nirala’. (Arey ye bhi unki kitaab hai? You get the feeling?)
As I heard my grandpa exchange pleasantries with the stall-keeper, I rued.
Hitherto, I have considered my library a nice big fat one, having everything from Mahabharata to Julius Caesar and from Mirza Ghalib to Gulzar.
I rued that I had ever thought my library to be complete.
Hitherto, I have thought that I have done justice to Hindi – my grandpa did not let me read English until I was twelve years of age, and had mastered my mother tongue. And it is not for nothing that my post graduate classmates call me ‘naniji’ till date.
I rued that I had thought I had done justice to Hindi.
For my library missed the books and short stories and poetry written by the gems I named above! Where I should have possessed the complete works of most of these men and women of glory, I had only Dinkar’s Rashmirathi! How did I even dare to think that my library was complete? True, my grandpa has most of those books in his own library, but I hadn't explored even 1o% of his collection, thinking there was all the time in the world and that I should try to buy something that he did not have.
What had I been reading in the name of Hindi all my life? Translated works from English and vernacular Indian languages! Fie on thee, Miss Singh!
And then another shocking truth hit me.
All the names on display were old names. All the names were parts of fond memories.
I began to wonder why the 21st century had failed, until now, to yield its pound of young flesh to Hindi Literature – and since the thought had come on the heels of my own inadequacies, I got my answer fast enough!
Who reads Hindi these days? I asked this of myself.
The Premchands, the Dinkars, the Yashpals, the Mahadevi Vermas are asking the Vikram Seths, the Anita Desais, the Arundhati Roys –
Who writes in Hindi these days?
Stall after stall I walked slowly, almost awed by the collection. I had not read many Hindi books after Hindi stopped to be a part of my academic curriculum nearly ten years ago. A beautiful feeling of nostalgia washed over me as I recalled the half-forgotten names like Yashpal, Sumitranandan Pant, Krishan Chandar, Mohan Rakesh, Jayshankar Prasad, Mahadevi Verma, Subhadra Kumari Chauhan – whose short stories, essays and poems had been part of my syllabus. More names popped up before my eyes that I remembered hearing in my grandpa’s literary discussions with his friends. Fanishwarnath Renu, Jainendra, Aashapurna Devi, Ramvriksha Benipuri, Harimohan Jha. Then some familiar names, with unfamiliar books. Munshi Premchand, Ramdhari Singh 'Dinkar', Maithilisharan Gupt, Surykant Tripathi ‘Nirala’. (Arey ye bhi unki kitaab hai? You get the feeling?)
As I heard my grandpa exchange pleasantries with the stall-keeper, I rued.
Hitherto, I have considered my library a nice big fat one, having everything from Mahabharata to Julius Caesar and from Mirza Ghalib to Gulzar.
I rued that I had ever thought my library to be complete.
Hitherto, I have thought that I have done justice to Hindi – my grandpa did not let me read English until I was twelve years of age, and had mastered my mother tongue. And it is not for nothing that my post graduate classmates call me ‘naniji’ till date.
I rued that I had thought I had done justice to Hindi.
For my library missed the books and short stories and poetry written by the gems I named above! Where I should have possessed the complete works of most of these men and women of glory, I had only Dinkar’s Rashmirathi! How did I even dare to think that my library was complete? True, my grandpa has most of those books in his own library, but I hadn't explored even 1o% of his collection, thinking there was all the time in the world and that I should try to buy something that he did not have.
What had I been reading in the name of Hindi all my life? Translated works from English and vernacular Indian languages! Fie on thee, Miss Singh!
And then another shocking truth hit me.
All the names on display were old names. All the names were parts of fond memories.
I began to wonder why the 21st century had failed, until now, to yield its pound of young flesh to Hindi Literature – and since the thought had come on the heels of my own inadequacies, I got my answer fast enough!
Who reads Hindi these days? I asked this of myself.
The Premchands, the Dinkars, the Yashpals, the Mahadevi Vermas are asking the Vikram Seths, the Anita Desais, the Arundhati Roys –
Who writes in Hindi these days?
Tuesday, 11 December 2007
Sushree Deepika ji ko samarpit
Okay, I have almost been hounded into this, for my friend Piyush has demanded several times that I dedicate a blog, on his behalf, to the love of his life – Ms. Deepika Padukone. The silly brat ought to have chosen a male to do this job for him, but it seems that most males are smitten themselves and though they may write ‘n’ number of blogs to the diva, they won’t do it on his behalf.
So Piyush, buddy, here she comes, just for you, in this humble little blog page of mine.
Mr. Om Prakash Makhija swoons and faints twice in the first half of OSO, and no man should blame him for doing so. If a male is treated to a sight as lovely as the dimpled, zillion-watt, pearly-white revealing smile of the Dreamy Girl – Shanti Priya – then he must be stone personified if he does not faint.
There is definite beauty here. Mere make-up and artificiality cannot account for the eyes that seem to move all around her face, the smile that deepens those dimples, the artistic, long-fingered hands that make her wave to her fans a regal gesture and that elegant height of hers that makes one look up to her, figuratively and literally as well for some. J.
One wonders how many artistes this young dame will inspire. We sure want more odes like ‘Kisi zubaan me wo lafz hi nahi ki jinme tum ho kya tumhe bata saku’ and ‘Chaand teri roshni ka halka sa ik saaya hai.’ We want M.F. Hussain to have a muse better than Amrita Rao. We want India’s doddering sculptors to come to life.
Show-stopper, heart-stealer, eye-candy, India’s new Venus – more such nouns shall be provided by the male readers!
So Piyush, buddy, here she comes, just for you, in this humble little blog page of mine.
Mr. Om Prakash Makhija swoons and faints twice in the first half of OSO, and no man should blame him for doing so. If a male is treated to a sight as lovely as the dimpled, zillion-watt, pearly-white revealing smile of the Dreamy Girl – Shanti Priya – then he must be stone personified if he does not faint.
There is definite beauty here. Mere make-up and artificiality cannot account for the eyes that seem to move all around her face, the smile that deepens those dimples, the artistic, long-fingered hands that make her wave to her fans a regal gesture and that elegant height of hers that makes one look up to her, figuratively and literally as well for some. J.
One wonders how many artistes this young dame will inspire. We sure want more odes like ‘Kisi zubaan me wo lafz hi nahi ki jinme tum ho kya tumhe bata saku’ and ‘Chaand teri roshni ka halka sa ik saaya hai.’ We want M.F. Hussain to have a muse better than Amrita Rao. We want India’s doddering sculptors to come to life.
Show-stopper, heart-stealer, eye-candy, India’s new Venus – more such nouns shall be provided by the male readers!
Tuesday, 4 December 2007
10 reel life dialogues in real life
Mushy to Gen. Kiyani when the latter thanked him – “Dosti ka ek usul hai – no sorry no thank you”
Dawood to Indian Police – “Don ko pakadna mushkil hi nai namumkin hai.”
Manoj Kumar to Farah Khan – “Mind it!”
Karnataka Governor Rameshwar Thakur to BJP- JDS Chiefs regarding their bid to lord over the Bengaluru CM house – “Kitne aadmi the?”
Public to Kapil praaji when he shed tears on camera – “I hate tears.”
Speakers to arrant mike and chair throwing-MLAs in UP and Bihar Legislative Assemblies – “Khamosh!”
Rahul Dravid after giving up his captaincy and losing his form – “Main kaun hoon? Main kahan hoon?”
South Mega star Chiranjeevi to his daughter – “Tumhari shaadi us se nai ho sakti jis se tum prem karti ho.” Okay the second half of the dialogue is not necessary, but I love Utpal Dutt, Hrishikesh Mukherji and Golmaal way way too much to miss it here. So here it is – “Tumhari shaadi us se nai ho sakti jis se tum prem karti ho. Tumhari shaadi us se hogi jis se main prem karta hoon.”
Casting couch victims to Shakti Kapoor et al – “Mujhe Bhagwan ke liye chhod do.”
Late Madhumita Shukla to UP MLA Amarmani Tripathi – “Main tumhare bachhe ki maa ban ne wali hoon.”
The reader shall appreciate the fact that this is no ridiculing of the very serious cases and of the victims of points 9 and 10. There are no puns there, intended or unintended and a serious discussion about the same if wanted shall be provided. Thank You.
Saturday, 1 December 2007
When M feeling Blue, all I gotta do’s take a look at you – and then?
No, I can’t carry on with the expected lyrics further. I cannot say, ‘Then I’m not so blue.’ Because as you watch Saawariya, the blue becomes more indigo with the progress of the motion picture.
I wish to enlist the adjectives that came to mind as I watched this SLB production on cable despite warnings that it was a potty piece of work.
Blue. Languorous. Dreamy. Whimsical. Dark. Surreal. Lingering. Meandering. Picturesque. Sleepy. Haunting. Heart-tugging.
And last of all – a victim of unfair criticism and poor timing or SRK’s newfound bitchiness. (Sorry you SRK fans, but that was the only word that came to mind. It seems there had been some informal pact between SLB and SRK that OSO shall not be allowed to clash with Saawariya. Arz kiya hai… ‘Wo jo hum me tum me qarar tha tumhe yaad ho ki na yaad ho!’).
I wish to enlist the adjectives that came to mind as I watched this SLB production on cable despite warnings that it was a potty piece of work.
Blue. Languorous. Dreamy. Whimsical. Dark. Surreal. Lingering. Meandering. Picturesque. Sleepy. Haunting. Heart-tugging.
And last of all – a victim of unfair criticism and poor timing or SRK’s newfound bitchiness. (Sorry you SRK fans, but that was the only word that came to mind. It seems there had been some informal pact between SLB and SRK that OSO shall not be allowed to clash with Saawariya. Arz kiya hai… ‘Wo jo hum me tum me qarar tha tumhe yaad ho ki na yaad ho!’).
The mistake SLB made was to promote and release this venture as commercial cinema. This is art -and as such, meant not for the masses but for a mere handful who end up getting at the same wavelength as the director.
Coming back to the movie.
A movie that reminded me of those slow art cinematic productions like ‘Lekin…’, ‘Maya Memsaab' and 'Suraj ka Saatwa Ghoda.’ A movie that makes a celebration of Raj Kapoor hits and Mughal-e-azam. A movie that showcases that gem called Zohra Sehgel in an ‘Anari’s’ Lalita Pawar avatar for too short a time. A movie with a near naked sculptured Ranbir Kapoor (winks, whistles).
A movie that an average Indian youth will never like because it will be called crazy, senseless and a venture secretly funded by analgesic-selling pharma companies.
My one message to them – have a heart! In this commerce-crazy industry an attempt to create art should not be asphyxiated so. In this commerce-crazy world a raw emotion-fuelled story should not be pooh-poohed so.
Useless message, I know! No one shall listen to it…but it gave me some satisfaction to write it. See this movie if you have heard and liked the matla of that one ghazal of Ghalib’s – ‘Ishq mujhko nahin, vehshat hi sahi.’
By the way, the music is no less grand than Om Shanti Om’s. In fact it is purer and more melodious and thankfully, a total no-no for the remix industry. And Sonam is no less eye candysome than Deepika. I am afraid few guys would have noticed that since only her face had been put on show. Men will turn me cynical one of these days!
Coming back to the movie.
A movie that reminded me of those slow art cinematic productions like ‘Lekin…’, ‘Maya Memsaab' and 'Suraj ka Saatwa Ghoda.’ A movie that makes a celebration of Raj Kapoor hits and Mughal-e-azam. A movie that showcases that gem called Zohra Sehgel in an ‘Anari’s’ Lalita Pawar avatar for too short a time. A movie with a near naked sculptured Ranbir Kapoor (winks, whistles).
A movie that an average Indian youth will never like because it will be called crazy, senseless and a venture secretly funded by analgesic-selling pharma companies.
My one message to them – have a heart! In this commerce-crazy industry an attempt to create art should not be asphyxiated so. In this commerce-crazy world a raw emotion-fuelled story should not be pooh-poohed so.
Useless message, I know! No one shall listen to it…but it gave me some satisfaction to write it. See this movie if you have heard and liked the matla of that one ghazal of Ghalib’s – ‘Ishq mujhko nahin, vehshat hi sahi.’
By the way, the music is no less grand than Om Shanti Om’s. In fact it is purer and more melodious and thankfully, a total no-no for the remix industry. And Sonam is no less eye candysome than Deepika. I am afraid few guys would have noticed that since only her face had been put on show. Men will turn me cynical one of these days!
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