"Masala" mix

After a really tiring day, of working, (or rather trying to work), nothing is more relaxing than nursing a cold mountain dew and some hot snacks, while watching a movie. So when my friend called me for a movie at NBRC's movie club, I went, and gladly. So, there I was in the hall, minus the snacks and dew, but in the AC. It was a Rahul Bose movie, Showrya. The heroine gave a sparkling performance of what not to do in a movie, a sharp contrast to Demi Moore in A Few Good Men, of which this movie is a rip off. An Indianized rip off, as is the trend now... Take an old Hindi/Tamil/Malayalam/Bengali movie, and "Westernize" it with short skirts for the girls and long braided hair for the men, or take an HBO movie and "Indianize" it with lame "catchy" dialogues, copious amount of tears and a parellel family story which shows the strength of Indian spirit but has nothing whatsoever to do with the story. Sheesh, these people need a lesson on how to copy... Although on second thoughts I guess I should thank them because I usually end up having a field day wacthing them with friends and relish tearing the movie apart.

So, sitting there comfortably in the AC, my mind wandered, and I was (rightly so) berating myself for coming to see a new hindi movie. I had long ago switched to hollywood due to the following aberrations I had made...

1) Kaal- Quite possibly the worst movie EVER made in the history of hindi cinema... with the backing of Karan Johar, Shah rukh.... An absolutely "FANtAsTIC" story about... well about... its... jungle... tigers.... ghosts.... gay couples... not-so-gay couples... jeeps... night... item numbers in between, (well, i've successfully imitated the style of direction here!!!)

2) Kal Ho Na Ho- I am not brain dead enough to enjoy watching one man dying for 3 hours...

3) Kabhi Alvida Naa Kehna- Let me explain. The only reason I even saw this movie is because they played it on the bus on my way back from B'lore, really loud. It was either watch it... Or watch it. I actually lost sleep over this worthless piece of shit which tries to justify extra-marital affairs. Rip off from desperate housewives??? Or is it the epitome of the original Indian movie? I have to wonder.

4) Raaz- Now, I have to hand it to the script writers of this movie for exquisitely butchering the story of What Lies Beneath.

5) Kabhi Kushi Kabhi Gum- Ah, a perfect example of actors with copious tears syndrome. the story line is... well... just... too profound to be explained by someone like me afraid.

I realized at this point that I could go on with infinite number of songs and movies which portray the rich culture and heritage of India. Like Om Shanti Om, Murder (from Unfaithful), Humraaz (from a perfect murder), deewangi (from primal fear), Tumsa nahin Dekha (pretty woman), nishabd ( american beauty), aawara pagal deewana ( the whole nine yards). Phew, I was exhausted. I decided not to tax my neurons by thinking about the songs and the oh-so-demure, docile women who preserve the "culture" and "feel" of old songs(when remixed).

My attention back on the screen, I saw the rest of the movie commenting and wishing I was in my own room, watching an old original Guru Dutt or Dilip Kumar movie, simple stories, down to earth and truly entertaining, or an nth viewing of the illusionist or requiem for a dream. And I thought about meaningful new movies like Bawander and Water (which due to controversies within India was backed by Canadian sponsors and as a result was nominated for an Oscar from Canada) which some people have not even heard of.

Its true that the supply caters to the demand... I'm deeply ashamed to say that I'm a part of the society which would rather see Salman bare his steroid pumped muscles (yuck) rather than an off-beat movie like provoked. Although with movies like Lagaan, black, Chak de India and Taare Zameen par getting due credit, the Indian public and subsequently Bollywood has a long way to go to achieve the maturity and class so apparent in hollywood movies. And until then, let me get back to my lays and dew and Schindler's List... Meanwhile, for those of you interested in the list of hindi movie rip offs, check out this web-page... a hint on what movies to stay clear off...
http://www.akhilesh.in/life/india/bollywoodinspirations.php

Our Dear Railways Minister....

I was in half a mind to call this post aalu prasad yadav (I refuse to use capitalization for his name, on principle) on account of the time when TV cameras caught the then CM of Bihar proudly cooking Aalu for his darling wife, but I decided against insulting the staple food of Poland... At least potatoes serve a lot of purpose.

That said, let me shed some light on my perceptions of our current, highly respected and successful Railways Minister, lallu (yes the pun is intended! and in future i shall refer to him as just lallu) prasad yadav. Said lallu has 9 children, 2 boys and 7 girls, in protest against the forced sterilization during the emergency. Of course not for his satisfaction! Duh, you guys should realize it was REALLY hard work for him and it was a great self sacrifice for a very noble cause. He should be awarded the Bharat Ratna for....

His love for his nation was further demonstrated when he elected his wife Rabri Devi to be his succesor when he was forced to resign because of the Fodder Scam. She also did her part in serving her country when she joined him in Jail (yes he's a frequent "guest" there). So have all his fellow party members who have criminal charges against them.

Oh and did I mention that he was charged also with possesing disproportionate assets... Hmmm i wonder where he got all that money and time between serving his country, protesting against the emergency and cooking aalu for his wife and kids.

One of lallu's greatest achievements in his sojurn as the railways minister was the introduction of (wait for it) earthen pots for selling tea in stations instead of plastic cups. I must admit he must have had a brain wave and run screaming eureka... After all, us lesser mortals can only think of styrofoam containers or even bio-degradable (recycled) paper cups instead of plastic. And his Idea has changed my life. I mean i drink tea only out of earthen pots in stations and trains, I swear!

My friend (who is a staunch supporter of lallu) once told me that lallu has single handedly turned around the railway sector and that his policies are studied in Harvard and IIM. To him and all of you out there I say, if after 11 years of mistakes in politics, if a person still doesnt know what works, then he aint just a lallu... And only a lallu takes 11 years of mistakes to help create a success of the next 4 years!

As the time comes near for a next (older) generation of Gandhis (a.k.a Congress) and BJPs to take over the running of an (at best) shaky government, I say, hail all the lallus out there for these people really DO manage to make a difference... And maybe in about another 200 years we'll be developed!!!

The Taj Mahal

Probably one of the first things that comes to mind when people think of India, other than the poverty, is the Taj Mahal. More than understandable. I had the opportunity of going there fairly recently, with friends. It simply took my breath away. But that is not what this particular post is about.

The entry fee for Indians is 20 rupees per head and foreigners its 750. That, to a certain extent is understandable; it is a beautiful source of money flow into India. So we have the Taj Mahal, our National heritage in Agra, which is by now one of the richest tourist spots in India. In the off-season, say about a 100 people (minimum number, I assure you) visit the Taj, the tourism department makes about 2000 bucks per day. This is just from Indians. And those who've been to the Taj will agree with me I'm sure, at least 10 foreigners can be seen there at any given time of the day, even in the off season. But I shall let it slide for now.

Well, those who visit Agra for the magnificent Taj also see the Agra fort, the palace where Mughal emperors like Jahangir, Shah Jahan and Aurangazeb lived. It is truly a feast for the eyes to witness the opulence and grandeur in which these people lived. I, for one, could literally visualize them walking along the beautiful corridors flanked by Gardens, fountains and intricately worked columns. One note of reality however kept jarring on this day dream of mine. It pained me to see it so badly maintained despite the huge influx of money from the tourism sector. In true "desi" style, the walls have been scribbled on; absolute rubbish, that makes me hang my head in shame when a foreigner smirks at it. Would the same Indian dare scribble like this on the statue of Liberty? I wonder. What is it that makes us respect another country and its heritage more than our own????

Another eye sore at the Agra Fort would be the moss and moulds present on so many of the walls and ceilings. Don't the politicians care at all? After all, these places are their meal ticket! The intricate work on the red stones and the marble has been masked by layers of dust and grime. I mean how expensive can getting a cleaner in be for Godness' sakes??? Or is it that the government is spending all the money on education for the poor or for medical facilities? Nope, that ain't the case either. The poverty is so goddamn evident. Just outside the Taj you can find little kids selling trinkets to passerbys, some even reciting shers, instead of being in school. This, to me, was the most heartbreaking of all.

So now we come to the most important question of all. Where, exactly, does all the money go? Besides this unaccounted for money, most of the shops outside the Agra Fort and Taj sell goods way higher than their M.R.Ps. On questioning, the shopkeepers are not able to produce proper documentation for this "inflation" in prices and imply that the cops will back them rather than us. More black money into the government workers pockets. Can nothing be done to question these practices???

If this is the condition in the most widely publicized and spotlight-ed place in India, is it any wonder that India is, after 60 years of independence still developing?

Abyss of apathy

I’m walking down the crowded street,

I watch people pass me by,

Talking, laughing, chattering away,

Enjoying life for themselves.

Look around what do you see???

Pain, sadness, it don’t look pretty to me,

Feelings crushed, and hope is lost,

A soul in agony, his neighbour cares not.

A small girl helps an old blind man,

But an adult averts his eyes in shame,

Busy, yet with an empty place

In his “steady” heart called love.

A heart meant to jump and roll,

Locked away in eternal frigidity,

Taught to doubt, hurt, and win,

To the point where no one cares anymore.

The world grows small the heart is sore,

Wary, cynical, cutting, cruel words,

Selfishly look out for oneself alone,

Who gives a damn about this place called home?

Falling in this abyss of apathy,

Is the lonely, joyous spirit called love,

Reaching out its hand for someone to care,

Someone to pull it back from oblivion.

A Maestro's legacy

The lilting music filled the air

With its oh-so-sweet harmony

Seeking to soothe the angry chatter

Of the milling crowd.

He played alone with all his heart

And soul; wished only to be heard,

Appreciated for his gift, his bane,

Music filled his soul.

Poor was he, struggling to eat,

To sleep on a bed was a dream,

And yet he felt the need to play,

A pull he couldn’t resist.

His eyes were solemn as he searched,

For one appreciative smile, a word,

He thought of stealing, begging or more,

But the violin reigned supreme.

Day by day his songs grew more

In depth, feeling, haunting melodies,

But the busy bees on the streets,

Didn’t give a damn.

Sometimes someone dropped him a penny,

Sometimes, even a pound,

But in his heart he felt so empty,

The ache of wasted time.

Years went by and slowly he knew,

Life was passing him by,

And yet he held on hoping that one day,

His music would bring applause.

His struggles grew more everyday,

His feet dragged on the pavements,

His faith and hope trodden upon

By those executive pedestrian shoes.

A young boy, seen 15 summers,

Sat on corner café and played a guitar,

Eyes bright, hopeful, excited to bring

His music to the public

The violinist saw, felt his heart clench,

Thought back to those early years when he,

Fresh, eager, naïve and joyous,

Waited for his day of glory.

He slowly went and sat beside him,

The maestro listening to the novice,

And at the end with tears in his eyes,

Clapped for the boy.

That fine day the violinist played,

As never before of happy things,

His feet were light on the pavements,

And he went to sleep with a smile.

Sigh of a rose

Once upon a dewy pretty dawn,

A tiny sweet bud opened her eyes,

A rose was she, tender of hue,

Bright, dreamy and scented too.

Days went by as her femininity bloomed,

One by one as the petals unfurled,

Coming into her own, shy and eager,

Making all around her forget their gloom.

Curious about the whole wide world,

Beautiful, naïve eyes, she looked around,

Glanced upon a big ol’ tree, laden,

Airy, yellow blooms dancing at noon.

Bunched together, trifle, silly, gay,

Singing a chorus, individuality at bay,

Yet the promising young rose yearned to be,

Carefree, cheery, dancing away with bees.

A lonely cold crept into her heart,

Day in, day out, she thought of naught,

But how to be some one she was not,

Depressed, heavy, intense, solemn eyed.

Gorgeous more she grew day by day,

Until a morn, a bouncy lil’ girl,

On her way, excited, to school,

Saw the rose, exclaimed with joy.

In that moment she finally knew,

What in life very few do,

To love oneself and be secure,

Calm, content, loving, worldly eyes.

Searching herself all answers she found

To look inside yet love all around,

Now she was proud to be earthbound,

Her joy from within lighting all around.

TUG OF WAR

Ferrero rocher. Pringles. Paalak Paneer. Veena. Carnatic music. Punk rock. Salsa and jive. Bharathnatyam. India’s youth has it all at its fingertips. Truly, as you can imagine, this has resulted in a most uniquely hybrid society of youth with varied and mind boggling talents. Surely, an ideal situation which takes the best of both the societies since it produces a brand of smart, successful people. But are these confident people really happy?

You might say yes and I’m sure many would agree with you, but what is the current trend in the “happiness” scale? A fat paycheck? An apple ipod? A laptop? What I’m talking about however, is the bone deep satisfaction that comes from being happy with who we really are, the essence. And I’m left wondering, are we truly happy?

So, where do we learn the rules of society? From the westerns who we try desperately to copy in order to achieve a sense of sophisticated veneer of glamour; or from our very native culture which seems to be old fashioned to today’s ‘hip’ youth? Gone are the days when simple pleasures or entertainment was sought after. I, for one, often felt being pulled here and then there. Like a tug of war, both sides equally strong.

Our generation indeed has the best opportunities; more than ever before. But the merging of these two varied societies has not been a smooth one. I’ve seen the confusion behind the façade of many a happy confident; the arrogance of the over confident. It is like giving unlimited chocolate to a person without any warning of cholesterol and obesity, which are the sure consequences of over indulgence. During the forging of this elevated chocolate generation, who draws the line and where? What in fact, are the side effects?

An interesting fact struck me when I sat down to really think about this turbulent society. It was how the Indian democracy took the cream of capitalism and socialism, trying to come up with the ideal ‘mixed democracy’ solution, only to end up getting stuck with new, worse problems like corruption, red tape etc. Ironic isn’t it? Unlike the Japanese however, who’ve worked this new problem of corruption into the system to create a different balance, we’re still wondering what we did wrong.

With both parents working in the urban nuclear-family home; with too much money, too much time and too little love, most of the youth are in the search of direction in life. They court success as if it would make up for the love they didn’t get, or they search for the same in the wrong direction. A prime example I can think of is teenage romance and relationships, half of them I believe born out of a need for love and approval of their peers. Copying other societies in this makes no sense because we have a mixed system which gives importance to commitment. Besides which, the youth here are not so self assured or self realized to carry on despite anything thrown their way and continue to be proud of who they are. To whether the storm, so to speak, when it does hit. And to be the best that they can be.

This I’ve not written to point out the negative aspects of our emerging society, for I am well aware that every thing has pros and cons. And our generation is too dynamic and turbulent to really predict the direction it will take. I do however wish to make people aware of the kind of submerged currents in our generation. To let my generation know that you are definitely not alone when you stand confused whether to take that extra helping of chocolate. All I ask is to love yourself, know your options, as well as to go ahead with your decisions and above all be there for yourself. No matter what side you choose in the tug of war, or indeed if you choose to stay in the middle, give it your best shot, and go be the best that you can be!