The Importance of Being SRK

With a cliche'd topic like this, I am here to shower fulsome praise on SRK, the king of Bollywood. Never imagined, I would do that, because if ever there was a surviving critic, read scold, on this earth, it was yours truly. So, how this sudden change of heart where I have grown an avid fan of his, no matter if it does or does not matter to others.

If CDI and OSO had their part in it, then it is absolutely true. But my catharsis happened due to my changed opinion about him, his movies and Bollywood in general, in the last few months. I always believed Bollywood is a poor example of cinema making, with mushy, cheesy, overdone (add epithets as many you can) thrown in plenty, and the blame largely rested on the shoulders of the big-guns in the vanguard. For many, it is still true and I can't argue with them, as the reasons supporting it are many and undeniable. But what if it is its strength? And luckily, I found out it indeed is. What I found schmaltzy was endearing to others, both in India and abroad. The very vivacity of Indian colour, clothes and culture had got lost on me, mainly due to its suffuse on me all my lifetime. The charm of Indian cinema is back though, and with even bigger concomitant dream.

Where does this leave Shahrukh in the entire chiaroscuro? Undoubtedly he remains the prime colour of it all, and for many, he is synonymous with Bollywood. The charisma, confidence and disarming influence of screen presence has won him over zillions of fans worldwide. It never happened that I didn't enjoy an SRK film, but it didn't fulfill me. It didn't fulfill me, because I wasn't ready to be. The moment I changed my exalted attitude, I could laugh on corny dialogues, romanticize with his heroine and weep with him at the cruelty of the world. It was awesome.

So, for his detractors, let's savour what he has given to us, and not what he could have. For sure, we need the other type of intellectual cinema too, but leave Shahrukh for what he does best. Yarning dreams...........

Reading blogs......

Today it has to be one of my most observant pieces of article, because of what I felt, nay realised after reading a few blogs.

I had a rather quiet start in the office today, so could afford going through some of my bookmarked blogs. I started off with Rajat's blog and buoy, the look had completely changed. He started it off just to kill time, I suppose but over a period of few weeks, he has put in some really nice thoughts. All put in simple, understandable and identifiable tone. Things related to our daily life but all the while, thought-provoking and mind-enriching. Sarang's blog was the next one and as usual in his inimitable style, tried to create a paradox by criticising and writing blog at the same time. Another interesting take on the need of blogging.I went through others' too and it
started growing upon me that all had different insights and more so, revealed their persona for me.

I could easily visualise the writer with the incident described, and it accentuated my sense of understanding. I was reading and then the simulacrum of the writer invariably surfaced. Then I decided to do the opposite by putting the writer first and then looking at the things through his eyes. Oh, really it was more exciting. I could easily understand what he wanted to say. It was quite engrossing, the hitherto uninteresting topics turned occupying. In the process,I learnt,or at least had the primer on the art of reading blogs. Hope this reading continues........

The sense of achievement

Thankfully I am writing this after a few days India became the Twenty20 Champions, for it will put my views in perspective. I like any other cricket enthusiast was/is over the moon after India's success at the cricket's world stage. But seeing the associated vain display put on after that, my euphoria is withering, and thakfully for good measure. It gives me time to reflect on the right side of it, before the opinion is actually forced on me after the subsequent bad results, God forbid, if any.

India won the world championship, because there was a purpose in their quest, with the related attibutes of fearlessness and athlecitism adding strength to it. They played in a zone where the prospect of gain was more than the fear of loss. Hindsight is always good to have to lavish praise, but the result was destined for success, the moment they took the field in this fashion. That's why it gets more surprising for me, that we haven't shown a similar approach in our celebrations in the aftermath.

Celebration is a must after any achievement, but we do it to make or rather say, refresh our ideas for future. We just don't do it to savour the past; it is also about dreaming of the future. Did we achieve this with our pompous felicitation of the victory? Not in any way. We never put this in context and so, never deemed it right to attach proportion to it. I am not against giving monetary incentives to the winners, but by giving this ludicrous about of money, you are saying as if they hadn't gone for winning anyway. Whether this will effect on the players a boost or an anesthetic, only time will tell. Time in the past has told though that more often than not, mediocrity has followed excellence for the very loss of this direction.

Apropos the media interaction, nobody in the press conference asked the media to refrain from adding adjectives to the team's performance, but it will come back to haunt them when they will lose. Sreesanth was incessant with his reactions on the last catch and his bowling in the semi-final. But what answers he will have when he drops a sitter in another final or Matt Hayden takes him apart in the coming one-dayers? Also nobody talked about the things learnt and what positive steps he is going to take to repeat the success. Worse was the behaviour of BCCI and the politicians ever ready to garner the attention, when they thronged the first rows without ever giving their insight/action into the future.

I do give an impression of a cynic here, but I am trying to learn from the past. I have suffered from this false sense of achievement with cricket enough that I dread of bordering on the excitement. It will help the players and the officials also if they remember, amidst all this frippery, that it is the purpose only which carried them here and it will hold true in future also.

Respect for time

Quite often there are small things in life that make a big impact. OK, tell me, how often did you think that you should be on time at each and every occasion? Probably every time in the beginning. But while doing so, you realised that you didn't belong there. The focus of the occasion always became those who came late, may be genuinely or may be carrying their feigned stardom. You were made to look stupid or even wrong by adhering to the time. So,you jettisoned that in order to be an equal cynosure.

In the process, it became a norm. Also nothing untoward happened to that occasion, as it carried off as usual with some forced haste. But what happened to the future occasions which couldn't bear this laxity? A total mess up and a damned reputation for all and sundry involved.

That is how I felt today when the cab driver waiting to go to the embassy told me all Indians come late by at least 15-20 minutes. To get myself out of his dragnet of accusation, I asserted that I was on time. He replied instantly that I was the only one. May be he told a lie to hold his words but that doesn't matter as long as his perception remains the same. I take it as an affront for all the punctual ones, but I can't deny his observation also about the Indians.

Before we start judging his views as a myopic thinking, just ponder, aren't we the genesis of all this? At the first place, we believe in dignifying ourselves by being late and then sadly mocking othes for being the opposite. Need I say we should mend our ways. The age-old adage that time and tide wait for nothing still holds true. Time needs respect, nay demands respect. I am really disapponited, hurt and even angry by what happened today. But quite often there are small things in life that can make a big impact.

Who needs the history rewritten?

The moment I feel good , my mind starts looking for excellence in everything. More often that not, the purveyor of such a joy is a piece of art, be it a movie or a book. The most recent paroxysm of emotions was while watching Chak De India.

To start with, it was another movie with the background of sports, where the protagonist seeks to redeem, or truly say, vindicate himself amongst a medley of emoting incidents. There were now-ubiquitous patriotic rhetorics thrown in plenty. There were pretty lasses too with an ample dose of glamour and laughter added. In short, it was a paisa vasool entertainment. But was it excellent?

Hmmm, to say you forth-rightly, it was. The most because it achieved that zone of cinema-making which only great works attain, i.e entertainment coupled with substance. I always believe the single-minded focus, sans any doubt and dither, in the message coming out of 70mm screen, invariably outweighs the temptation of a lucrative falderol in the long run. The movie stayed true to my this theory as it focussed solely on the struggle of an ostracized sportsman to come out good for his country, despite the unjustified and reprehensible treatment meted to him. It wanted to showcase his patriotism, his beliefs , his pain and his ideals. Not anything else.

Not even Shahrukh Khan. Instead here was a much mellowed Kabir Khan. It won't be complete if I don't give a separate paragraph to this role and actor, because I never saw SRK in that. And that's why, he was better, probably amongst the best in his ensemble of works. I am a critic of SRK, no doubt, for the same reason he gives in the movie to the senior players. Being in the vanguard of the film industry, it is also his onus to make it better. I would be fool, if I say he hasn't, for the popularity he has given to it is huge; but he too would be dishonest if he considers that he has done enough meritorious movies becoming of his personality. I hope he is not. For I yearn more of these Chak Des creating history, than his trying to chase history and in turn, becoming one.

Myriad opinions of India

I write it through the eyes of a young boy who used to look searchingly at the morning newspapers to read something heart-warming about India, amidst all those non-sensical political reamings, and depressing but true woeful depictions. I wondered at that point of time, will I ever be able to read about India's economic, and thus related social and political development? It remained more a wishful child's dream but suddenly, I don't know how, out of blue, news of India's emancipation started pouring in. India as a long-perceived lumbering leviathan started to run. And it grew on everyone including me that finally India may be more than just a utopia.
India has moved on since then, and even in most reasonable terms, by leaps and bounds. It has started appearing on the world's radar with everyone knowing, at least, where the signals are coming from. I too, like a gratified child turned adult, remain enchanted with every new positivity added to it. I really pinch myself then, "This isn't real !"

But then on the same note, I read the horrid tales of exploitation, corruption and injustice, reminiscent of those quondam ghastly days. I try to run, telling myself that we have come over this , but sadly, in the end, I have to admit that this is what is real. My whole exaltation dies down and again those clouds of doubt re-emerge.
This has practically been the tale of all my related euphoria ever since the seed of Indian liberation has sprout. Mediocrity has followed excellence, turpitude has garbed the achievements and things have moved on with never-to-leave shadowy degeneracy clung to it. A sense of deja-vu remains attached to every conceivable facet of Indian system, be it polity, economy, sports or business. Yes, a sense of deja-vu hidden under the realised dream of that chuffed boy. Ironically, a quivering realised dream, which he also knows.

Forgiveness

Forgiveness found its way to me
Through dark clouds of my pain
As well as anger, but now I see
I will never be the same

A warming gift of letting go
My choice to cease to hate
It came upon me for me to know
To forgive is never too late.

Why did it take so many years
If it was waiting all the time?
It matters not for now it's clear
The choice was always mine.

The brightest of forgiving love
Has captured me now forever
A treasured wonder from above
To hate will now be never.


PS- I picked it from somewhere. I liked it so much that I am posting it here. So all credit to that unknown author.

Sex and the lies within

What is with this little word that spins the big world around, you ask someone, and he will greet you with a grin and then ponder over it affectedly to associate it to it being the most pleasing thing present. Is it just that, or much more? Surely it can't be that simple, otherwise many other things in life would have supplanted that.

For me, it is the manifestation of love, that greatest thing that God has ever made. And if love is so pure for all , why is this tainted for many. Since childhood, we are taught pedantically every moral and righteousness in this world, and we sadly mark it out on top as a blacklisted zone. We tend to distance it, for fear of getting it close, and that is where we get defeated. The real adaptation of it is by learning its 'dos and donts' and not marking it as a don't. And idiot, who can mark it as a don't when this is the most real thing present. The truth of it shouldn't be hidden with the lies within it. I certainly don't defend it, as subjugation to it prematurely is bad, but what is not bad in excess and prematurity?

Let it come out in open and I believe the fear associated with it will wither. The best way to fight our negativities is to fight them upfront. And if every moral guardian in this world let go their parochialness, the failings in this world will reduce. There will be less violence, less warped minds and less diabolical designs, for everyone will be immersed in it. There will be people looking at each other with love and not with myopic look of caste, creed or colour. It won't be an orgy but a celebration of festivities within us. Won't that be wonderful?

Brown Magic

If magic is what an author needs to weave, then Dan Brown is certainly master at it. My words of praise for him would look like an oft-repeated ovation, but here I write with all my gratitute to him for the boundless joy he has given to me till now while reading his novels.

I am a literature aficionado, per se. But there have hardly been times when I have liked an author's works so much . Though my personal favourite remains Frederick Forsyth, Dan Brown's novels have much more appeal to them, for their easily identifiable themes.The first novel I read of Dan's was Da Vinci Code, and what an experience it was! I read it continously throughout the night, getting immersed in its backdrop. I hadn't had nor have such sort of excitement till now. The puritans might scoff at the scholastic simplicity of the work, but it doesn't lessen its captivating power. The research put in it was great and it showed in the facts enlisted by him in the novel.

Angels and Demons too was great, though it moved more on a cinematic path in the end. The other two novels, The Deception Point and Digital Fortress received much less attention but they too could compare with the very best. While it was just fascinating to read about NASA and its drama in the former, it was equally riveting to pass through the maze created by the Computers and Cryptographical Algorithms in the latter. I wait with bated breath his next work, The Solomon Key, which too would hopefully be a great rollercoaster ride.

Summing it up with the feelings of a normal reader, it is not in the literary grandeur that the greatness of a novel lies. It is in the impact that it creates on the reader. I still feel those twitches inside me while remembering those moments in his novels. Sheer moments of joy and I put a toast to this masterful storyteller for giving me those.

Watching Vivah........

I am a bit undecided on how and what to write about Vivah, the movie that I watched just now. I want to write, or rather scream so many things, but I am still under its sway, so might be words won't just suffice.As the initial words would have made it clear, I am simply blown over by this movie right now, and it takes some doing when you kinda scribble these stuff at 3 o' clock in the night. OK, enough of my excitement!
Coming back to the movie, Vivah, for me, isn't just a narration about a marriage ceremony or a story of two young people tying their nuptial ties amidst a chiaroscuro of incidents going around.It is far more developed with every shot dripping those inexplicable only-to-be-felt sensations. It isn't real , to be very honest, as you will hardly find a similar that-good backdrop in the contemporary world. But its reality lies here only that we actually want our life to be that real and pure as shown in the movie. It is essentially a celebration of goodness, that thing which we sorely lack in our society now.
To sing its hosannas just on the fact that it is very traditional in nature and doesn't have any cosmopolitan allure will be doing a grave injustice to its sincerity. It is good because it is true to what it wants to say. In this world, people don't become good because of anything other than their heart. And if it is pure, there can hardly be a situation which can faze anyone. The lead characters here, Shahid and Amrita , had the same pure love which battled any other impediment. You have to look through their eyes the whole scenario to feel their twinges, be it the goosebumps of Shahid when first seeing his would-be bride or the eagerness of Amrita while waiting for her hero. The whole backdrop of marriage scenes are truly redolent of the actual scenes in our family. I, living so away from home, can still share the chirps going around while sleeping on mattresses on the floor or relishing the jalebis at a local corner shop.
Those are the days we wish never go. So if a movie comes, which bring a refreshingly homely feel-good twinge to our hearts, it is just lovely. It was so low on hype scale, that it had almost missed my notice. But I place it right after LRM and RDB in year 2006. I know many might squirm at this much lavish praise showered on it, but who cares when after so many days, you feel synonymity with your inner self which wants to be as good and pure as our very basic life settings are.

Shame on me and us

I was to write this post with the same first half of the title after the World Cup cricket matches yesterday, but the recent developments forced me to change it to insinuate it at everyone. Bol Woolmer died of heart attack after being under extreme pressure over the first round exit of Pakistan team. It is still to sink in but it shows how hollow our passion related to this game is.
Nothing can be bigger than the game, but not the life of men truly dedicated to it. Then who are we, many of us who never wielded the cricket bat or threw ourselves on the field, to force our opinion on their commitment, or express our wrath on them.
Every nation's citizens are extremely passionate about one of their games and want the players to win at any cost. It is within their rights but it crosses the boundary when they start identifying every move of theirs with the team's. Why, who told we guys to relate our every dream to theirs, when we are not even an iota connected to them. Don't we have our own dreams to fulfill, and our own areas to excel in? Getting a Nobel Prize in Literature is as big a achievement as winning the World Cup. So, why put our everything on this game of cricket?Burning effigies of the players doesn't do them any harm, rather show our ineptitude. Tendulkars, Dravids and Kumbles have done more than these combined multitude of senseless people.
Shame on us. It is from we only that the team becomes. I have seen teams changing, but performances remaining same, because the guys playing there are from amongst us only, some of them who sit back when even something minimal is achieved, and attainment of excellence is subsequently booted out. The team gets a high-falutin coverage on even a small win and then the next day, when it loses, it is thrown into dustbin. Neither the team performs nor the fans.
It all then gets in this vicious cycle of derogatory denigration and farcical encomiums.
Let us get away from this, when this is so senseless. Let's savour the beauty of life not looked into by us till now. Let's celebrate Viswanathan Anand becoming the World Number 1 as much as a Sachin Tendulkar's century. Then only we will do justice to both, we and the players.

The Story of New Year

Every year on 31st December, I would remain awake steadfastly till 12 midnight, and at the stroke of the hour when 'Old Year Changeth, Yielding Place To New' I would raise myself up and solemnly make a heap of promises to myself, only to realise later on that they are the repetitions of last years one's. But reaffirming my faith to turn those resolutions into reality, I would seamlessly pass into another year's opened arms. Then a perked up soul and Happy Greetings to all and sundry.

This year though,it was a sleeping soul, into the arms of pillows, only to be woken at the midnight hour by the creatures bursting crackers to felicitate another year. I put the pillows on my ears, mouthing them names, and cursing their insanity of being overjoyous on yet another day.Only till yesterday, I was one of them. But now having changed, I had the right to admonish them.

Yaa, this year I slept at 11 o clock with the biggest resolution in my life that from this year on, no more promises and no more repentances. Why on earth, there should be an earmarked day, where in one out of every two person on this earth makes false pretences to himself, only to look like a buffoon at the end of it. More resonably, it takes the sheen out of New Year by marking it an 'Asseveration Day' to fight battles ahead in life. Which battles, nobody knows but they sharpen their weapons, only to fight their own demons in the end. Why to tense yourself that this year too, it is going to be a helluva sort of ride and you have to gird your loins for it. Beneath all those celebrations and greetings, lies those simmering disquieting thoughts of struggles lying ahead. Give me a break.

So I slept on, again murmuring the unmentionables to those blockheads, into the abyss of time, and woke up next morning refreshed and with a hitherto energy bereft of any more lurking singeing feelings. I had a good day, passing it like yet another holiday and at the end of it, I had the wherewithal to declare before you and everyone my this year's resolution, 'Not to have any more Resolution'. Oxymoronic !!! Oh, but the bottomline remains, this way, at least this year, I will turn my resolution into reality. The long awaited cherished desire. Over to you 2007.