A lifetime of ecstacy

Whichever way I look at it, i got more here than I had bargained for. Be it academics, friends, extra-curriculars, love, hate, fun .... the works. This video has come from somewhere in my heart (not sure if it's the bottom) and, in many ways, reflects the true story of my stint at IIT Madras. The amount of mileage we have clocked up as s class despite differences is truly something to cherish. At a personal level, of course, I have made some really good friends. I have also learnt a good deal about life and its meanderings, through pleasant and not-so-pleasant episodes. Hope you enjoy the video ...

Bill, Bigelow & Backpack

Symbolism and allegory is indeed a potent tool to add layers, colours and texture to issues and discussions. It can be fantastically bang-on or damningly misleading and lot depends on the intelligence of both the formulator and interpreter of the idea. No my friends, this is not my learning from the hugely successful Dan Brown genre, though it indeed was involved in the genesis. Instead, what I am referring to here is much closer to real and “de-crypted” life. A three pronged rambling – read on …

The first two observations are linked at their source, but fan out thereafter. The first and most important, at least for me as an Indian, is the 108^th Constitutional Amendment, better known as the Women’s Reservation Bill. After millennia of prejudice, amidst shameful hooliganism and against ruling anarchy, the Indian woman has made a small but joyous step towards hope. Before you lash out at me with your sabres, let me clarify that “small” here is a downright relative expression. The acceptance (though still very provisional, for Lok Sabha MPs would still surely use every rule in the book to save their seats which are set to go to women if the Bill is passed) of a formidable right to decision making in the world’s largest democracy still plagued by patriarchal and feudal bias is in itself a gigantic and unprecedented step forward for women. It’s indeed tempting to tend towards symbolism considering the fact that the present ruling party, the opposition, the Lok Sabha and the Indian state all have women in pivotal positions presently. Sorry to sound like a cynic, but the acid test would really be if and after the 108 comes into force. How the empowered woman community wields and uses its power is where the real essence of the issue lies. When you look at the fact that a party like Trinamool Congress, led by a woman, did not think it was correct to evict MPs who belittled the office of the Rajya Sabha speaker, you’d start to see what I’m trying to say. Politics today, at least in India, is starkly discordant with public welfare and farsighted policy making and has instead turned into a combined game of monopoly, trapeze and poker. On the road, in the fields and at home, the Indian woman is still fighting for identity, equity and dignity. I sincerely hope that the 33% does not get sucked into the black hole of materialistic and virtue-less politics but uses the power to really make a difference in the life of the Indian women and set her free. The government lost out the symbolically fantastic opportunity of getting the bill passed on International Women’s day, let’s hope the Indian state doesn’t take the symbolism too seriously.

Now, it’s time for the red carpet. The famed “Battle of the Ex-es” at this year’s Oscars ended in the Oscar for the best Director going to a woman for the first time in Oscar history. The Dan Brown-esque media again linked this with the International Women’s day. First things first, “The Hurt Locker” is indeed a raw and scathing look into the horror, rigour and monotony of pointless and protracted war. A columnist has remarked that the “sweaty, sour and defeatedly masculine tang seeping out of every frame” in the movie could only have been captured so shrewdly by a woman. Something about such remarks rings a bell somewhere in me. Why is the woman – angle looked at with such scrutiny in such situations? Around the world, with all the talk of progressive humanity, gender-bias still is a menacingly strong undercurrent. To me, underlining the fact that a female director deserves extra credit for making it the Oscar winning list, and similar such statements, have roots in a deep-seated patriarchal conviction. I definitely need more minds to develop this line of thought.

Finally, a musing on something entirely different. As a part of the process of watching the Oscar nominated movies, I came across George Clooney’s “Up in the air”. I thought the film has used a very different technique to look at the importance of social security in human life, which is refreshing. Riding on the concept of a backpack, used as a symbol of the materialistic and social commitments that ride on the shoulders of a human, the film very subtly underlines the beauty, importance and criticality of not cocooning yourself from the world in a bid to stay away from responsibilities and commitments. It was a nice breezy movie, and without any over-the-moon dialogues or situations, drove home a point effectively. I wonder why Bollywood doesn’t get “inspired” by this genre ….

My music and me ...

Of righteousness & resentment ...

The time of the call had already given me the message. Over the phone, my mother’s grief - stricken voice confirmed what I had already figured, “Daadu aar nei re …. (Grandpa is no more, son)”. For several moments, my entire sensibility was numbed. There was veritable poetic justice in how the end came.

 Throughout his life, daadu had personified and exemplified the concept of principled and dignified living. Hit by the cruelty of the Bengal partition, his family had been reduced from an affluent household to a struggling unit. As attempts were made to start living again, circumstances crowned daadu, still just a student, as the prime bread-earner of the family. He did not bat an eyelid. He joined the Indian army, and by the time he retired as a Subedaar Major (the seniormost rank for a non-commissioned officer in the army), he had seen action in WWII and in 1962 & 1965. The army had turned a resolute human into a lifelong fighter. All this while, he had been responsible for raising his 3 younger brothers and 1 younger sister, apart from running a huge joint family. Stretched by finances, he made every penny count but never let the household feel deprived in any way. He lived a Spartan, indeed a deprived life, but never evaded responsibility. As the army pension proved insufficient, daadu painstakingly learnt basic accounting studying Batliboi books all by himself, and got a job at a office at Fort William, Calcutta. Step by step, bit by bit, he moved forward in life and ensured his siblings received respectable education and started families of their own. Bolstered by the unquestioned support of his devoted wife, he worked hard to instill a framework of values, discipline and sensibilities into the household he was responsible for. The magnanimity of his character was a striking part of his existence. Throughout his life, he interacted with everybody around him with the same set of values. He cared for everybody's well-being and if anybody was erring in his actions and philosophy, according to him, he did not think twice before raising a flag. This attitude earned him numerous admirers but also earned him the wrath of people who thought they deserved biased behavior by dint of being his relatives, superiors and the like. As the household he had painstakingly built brick by brick started to disintegrate under pressure of self-centredness, narrow-mindedness and wanton greed, he did all he could to stem the rot. He even curbed his instinct to call a spade a spade and refrained from speaking his mind if that could avoid needless confrontations. He lived a life of dignity, discipline, courage and unwavering determination and never bowed before anybody, not even death. The man, who at 82 years of age could arm wrestle and decently built youth into submission, died a swift, almost painless death at the Army Command Hospital in Kolkata. He was known at the hospital not by name, but as the distinguished World War veteran and was given a treatment that moistened eyes not with pain but with pride. His loss was a blow I have never been able to tide over.

When I look up to his life and try to imbibe his values, I realize I am seriously incompetent in trying to follow in his footsteps. I have struggled to develop his magnanimity and maturity in handling adversities. I judge with my heart most of the times and that has landed me into trouble. My mind has been held to ransom on several occasions when I’ve encountered the darkness of human character – all the more painful when they are your near and dear ones. I have seen people sway in intoxicated materialistic stupor.  I have seen people operating with inexplicable double standards for personal gains. I have seen people ignore sentiments and feelings and get sold on unbridled showmanship. On the other end of the spectrum, I have also seen the restraint and maturity that has to be exhibited to manage the complex fabric of human relations. I have often given in to my short temper and, as a result, created even more complexities. We, maybe justifiably, rely too much on keeping our social fabric free of stains and strains, which we are taught is the true achievement of human endeavor. I saw daadu relentlessly strive to do that, and now see my parents doing the same. This has often meant reconciling to unacceptable conduct by relatives and seemingly unpardonable behavior by friends and others in society. I am seriously pained and aggrieved when I see this state of affairs, but somehow have been unable to break the shackles of deep-rooted convictions. I hope to develop the traits that people like daadu stand for and be a worthy individual. So, help me God ….

Musings ...

It has been an awefully long time since I last blogged, and for the life of me, I cannot come up with a proper explanation for this. Anyway, I finally found enough inspiration and drive to blog again, and I hope you enjoy this effort. As usual, there are multiple issues I have commented on here, in no particular order, but they are all subjects that attracted me unusually and significantly.

A lot of stuff has been happening lately that is worth mentioning here, but about which I wouldn’t elaborate. Michael Schumacher returned to F1 to pair up with old pal Ross Brawn, a celebrated tiger found his territory ravaged completely, a Nobel peace prize winner pushed thousands of troops to fight in a heavily protracted theatre of war, the Ferozshah Kotla pitch again was in the news for the wrong reasons (Last time, the ruckus was followed by Kumble’s 10-wicket haul. Let’s hope for something similar this time around too…, though it doesn’t take away the ignominy and embarrassment.), and a grossly inaccurate movie & a hopeless sham of a conference marked the global “awareness” about the fate of Mother Earth

But I have some other things I’d like to talk about. I watched two Hindi movies in two days which had, for a change, a soul of their own and had a warm feeling about them. The first, strictly in chronological order, was Rocket Singh – Salesman of the Year. A no-frills movie about a young man who strives to carve out a niche for himself by superimposing his ideals and sensibilities on an ethically-flawed cut-throat business environment, has a distinct message for the contemporary global environment. Backed by a highly sensible story by the impressive Shimit Amin, and excellent performances by Ranbir Kapoor (the believable & likeable Rocket Singh), Manish Choudhary (the arrogant and stop-at-nothing Suri), Naveen Kaushik (with his trendy sideburns & street-smart sharpness), Gauhar Khan (the intelligent “customer relations executive”) and D. Santosh (the porn-loving Hyderabadi maintenance guy), and others like Prem Chopra and Mukesh Bhatt, the movie is as much a statement in-sync with the times as it is an ode to integrity and ethics. Though set in Mumbai, the film has a distinct Delhi feel, and that is not because the protagonist is a “Joker Sardaar”. The message of the movie is very much in line with emerging business sensibility that emphasizes relentless customer focus and people management. A nice watch…

The second movie, 3 Idiots, is another masterpiece from Rajkumar Hirani’s stable. Notwithstanding the mud-slinging that is going on regarding the credits of the movie, the film has its own charm and beauty. It has significant similarities with Munnabhai – the wonder treatment of patients, the face - offs between the protagonist and the principal, the “is baar ka paper main set karunga” situations, the South Indian stuck at the second position on merit lists and yes, the same healthy sweet heart-warming feel. The trio from RDB, teamed up with the Munnabhai stable, has done it once again, aided by others like the adorably irritating Omi Vaidya as Chatur and the sweetly restrained Kareena as Pia. Yes, the plot has its implausibility and yes, the movie may be interpreted by some as glorifying indiscipline, but I liked the movie solely because of its treatment and its after-taste.

Shifting tracks, next on my agenda is a disturbing trend that is slowly pervading the field of journalism. It is the phenomenon of yellow journalism and its more criminal variant which is nowadays being termed as the “paid news syndrome”. This refers to the condition where powerful entities are buying media space and obscuring unbiased news by projecting engineered information. In an age where customer is fashionably projected to be the king, this corporatization of the media is in effect tantamount to making the customer is just a meek bystander, indeed a slave of the money-wielding powers. Recently, it was highlighted how a series of “articles” (they were nowhere labeled as “advertisements”) extolling the virtues of the then Maharashtra CM candidate Ashok Chavan adorned huge centrespreads of various dailies across Maharashtra (including the largest circulated daily in Maharashtra) during the election campaign. All the pieces appearing on a certain day had almost identical wordings in all the dailies. While Mr.Chavan has declared that he only spent a total of Rs.5,379/- for advertising in the print media, the pieces, if “paid” by Mr. Chavan, must have cost him crores of rupees. (A contesting candidate cannot spend more than 10lacs of rupees for electoral candidature promotion.) This, at once, points to 2 malices – apart from the prospect of “paid news” being published, this also points to a clear breach of electoral norms. The Times Group runs a service called Medianet Online whose official focus is “to augment print media with other media vehicles to provide a complete end-to-end PR solution to customers.” But a look at the website would reveal that the site has immense potential for yellow journalism and creation of paid-news. Indeed, journalists from prominent media mastheads have been arrested accepting bribes from parties for posting laundered information on various modes of mass media. The villainous prospects of news laundering were also covered, albeit immaturely, in the movie Mission Istanbul. Additionally, the mushrooming of news channels in the recent times is both a cause and an effect of news – corporatization and yellow journalism. All this creates an alarming setting where the media, lured by financial distractions, is increasingly losing its righteousness, its allegiance to the ethics of news coverage and is fast becoming the world’s most elaborate soap serial.

Finally, I focus on the recent initiative jointly launched by the Times Group from India and the Jung Group from Pakistan called “Aman ki Asha” or the Hope for Peace. The initiative aims at fostering a climate of mutual trust and friendship between the ill-fated step twins, India and Pakistan. The initiative, as worded by the editors, aims at initiating a people-to-people contact, hoping sincerely that a significant success in this endeavor would force the respective governments to engage in more meaningful and forcefully reconciliatory dialogue. Aman ki Asha, a commendable concept in itself, correctly identifies that the common awaam on both the sides of the border is willful of a mutually peaceful milieu in the region. But it is a little naïve to hope that a people-to-people contact would lead up to a government level bonhomie. This is neglecting political and strategic machinations and foolishly hoping for a resolution. It is well-known that the common people never wanted the partition, they never wanted the wars, they never wanted Kargil, and they enjoy Lata Mangeshkar and Euphoria as much as they adore Abida Parveen and Strings. But state diplomacy and political will has its roots somewhere else, and these roots are too strong and well-developed to be uprooted by a friendly “public” environment. Thus, I fear “aman ki asha”, for all its well-meaning charm, may end up just being a good beginning.

Comments ....??

Taare Zameen Par - every child (read Aamir Khan product) is special

Bollywood today is a well-oiled assembly line of showcases, churning out stereotypical love stories, ‘musicals’, ‘thrillers’, ‘murder mysteries’ and the like or mastering the art of reverse technology and offering ‘inspired’ (read unabashed) remakes of Bollywood & Hollywood and God-only-knows-which-wood classics. One really is forced to think whether Bollywood is run by humans or state-of-the-art humanoid robots, such is the beaten-to-death monotony of scripts.

But this is when a marvelous piece of art named Taare Zameen Par is eased out of the workshop of the amazing Aamir Khan. Everybody knew he was a multifaceted and extremely talented actor whose performances were punctuated with perfectionism and undeniable class, be it his Coca Cola ads in various regional Indian flavours, his first home production Lagaan or any of his performances till date, barring a few aberrations. But now we know he is an equally brilliant storyteller. TZP is a touching peek into the tortuous alleys of a mind that craves to blaze its own trail instead of militarily aligning itself with the moribund monotony of rate race philosophy. The character of Ishaan Awasthi has been extremely well conjured and portrayed, thanks to some amazing acting skills displayed by Darsheel Safary, apart from Aamir’s directorial brilliance. The Calvin-esque animations of the child’s fertile thought process and imagination are extremely entertaining. The struggle of the differently-abled child to come in terms with his existential complications, the daily rebukes from the unsentimental society and the natural knee-jerk reactions of his parents are absolutely heart-wrenching. Some frames from the film are sure to moisten the eyes of anybody made of flesh and blood. The scene where Ishaan sobs uncontrollably on his first night in the boarding school, the scene where Ishaan’s dad watches him reading the notice board, or the scene when Ishaan runs into his art teacher’s arms on winning the art competition – these are portrayals that are memorable pieces of cinematic brilliance. Perhaps the genesis of TZP has its roots in Aamir’s personal life, which gives the film an eerie semblance of reality. Shankar Ehsaan Loy have, as usual, given the film the music it demanded and deserved and have enhanced their already enviable reputation of master tune-smiths. But the icing on the cake, without doubt, is Prasoon Joshi’s lyrics writing. He may be a blue-chip adman, but he is arguably one of the best lyrics-writers in Bollywood today. His wordwheels are innovative and unconventional but immensely effective and suitable. The song that is played when Ishaan’s family leaves after admitting him at the boarding school is a highly emotive statement. All the other characters in the movie play their parts to perfection, as can be expected in an Ammir Khan product.

In a nutshell, a must-see. They don’t produce such stuff in their factories these days.

Twenty Twenty - New kid on the block!

The World Cup win by India was too big an occasion to pass by without a post from my side. So here goes.

Twenty twenty has hovered around the cricket scene for some time but had failed to grab international attention. It’s a known fact that no phenomenon in cricket can hope to find its place in the sun unless and until it has the blessings of the Asian viewer and fanatic. So, having said that the T20 World Cup was a great step by the ICC to push the concept forward, an India – Pakistan final was an absolutely God-sent opportunity for the sport to burst into international spotlight. The format definitely has its plus points. The shortened duration and innovative rule book brings the game of cricket, traditionally seen as a dour game of the classes, almost on an even keel with facts-paced games like football and basketball. The fact that you can get over within three hours with so much excitement appeals to the present populace to whom the busy daily schedule doesn’t accord much free time. Many people were unaware of the bowl-out rule before the Indo-Pak match, and there were many animated discussions later on as to how a cricket match was won 3-0. The 270 odd sixers hit during the tournament were an ultimate treat and the info bars displayed entirely new types of statistics about players like the longest six hit and time since the last six. Statistics like number of fours and economy rate were in a state akin to Ustad Bismillah Khan, once jewels in the crown but now pushed into ignominy. The Yuvi scorchers would ever remain etched in everybody’s, particularly Flintoff’s mind. And last but definitely not the least, the cheerleaders……. what a treat they were! They really added a dash of colour to the game that sees dada-style shirt twirling as indecent ungentlemanly behaviour.

On the flip side, there are some points to ponder. Just because a Hero No. 1 becomes a hit at the box office doesn’t mean that a Maachis has lost its sheen. The fifty overs format still is the better test of skill and talent. The T20 format requires big hitters much in the baseball mould, and deft strokeplayers somehow aren’t stars in the shorter format. Also, the 50 overs game allows you to stage a fightback even after initial reversals, which is very difficult in T20. Australia has been losing ealy wickets in both formats, but they somehow tasted dust in T20 because there was almost no time for rearguard action, the same rearguard action that sucked the wind out of Team India’s sails in the home series. The art of building and pacing an innings cannot be perfected in T20.

These are some off-the-block musings. I am open to comments and criticisms.