Merry Christmas

With a special talent that did not confine itself to the boundaries of tempo, tune, beat and anything remotely musical, I was spared the task of joining the Mar Thoma Syrian Church, choir.
This was the first chapter of the book titled. 'Lack of talent can be a blessing. For you and others.'

This meant that Bruce and I had to play other roles. And there is no better time than December to put your kid through these testing times. Honestly, I loved it. At least back then, I did.

And for once I knew something by heart. The flow of events during the Christmas Eve celebrations.

1. Carols in English by the choir.
2. Carols in Malayalam by the choir.
3. Sermon
4. Carols in English by little ones.
5. Carols in Malayalam by the little ones.
6. Enactment of the Nativity scene.
7. Carols in English by the elders.
8. Carols in Malayalam by the elders.
9. Cake distribution.

For 1-5, 7-9, the odds of me and Bruce making it were quite similar to the ones Dravid had of making it to the one-day team.

No. 6 could surely accommodate us.

Joseph - Possible.
Mary - Not Possible. There were pretty girls and that too many in number.
Baby Jesus - Not possible. Too heavy for one of the pretty girls to lift.
A doll from one of them would be more apt. And they know their dolls.
Animals in the manger - Possible.
3 wise men - Quite Possible.


Really did not know or was bothered to find out how these roles were assigned.
Had to get through it, quick and easy.

Joseph was chosen, excited kid smiled.
Mary was chosen, excited girl smiles, some twitch their lips, as only little girls can, some boys who could pass of as the former breathed a sigh of relief.
Mary got the doll, quite right I would say, mother brings her kid.
The animals were chosen - was still not there.
One wise man -some kid
Two wise man - bruce.
Third wise man - brijesh

See Papa, 'wise man'

Action.
Start walking the entire length of the church till you reach the front.
The rest are already there, in their positions playing a game of 'mental statue'
Join in, offer the gold, frankincense and myrrh.
Say 'statue' in your head and pose.

Choir sings.
Some enthusiastic uncle and aunty join in.
They sing better than some in the choir, who glare at them from behind song sheets.

Some more songs. Ends with a Jingle Bell... each bell jingling in a different manner, depending on who is rendering it.

The uncle who has to rush out for a smoke has already reached the , " ... in a one horse open sleigh..."

The Malayalam speaking ones did not proceed beyond, "jingle bells..."

The boyfriend in the choir or the girlfriend in the congregation or vice versa, while standing on their toes and arching their necks, emphasised on, " oh what fun it is to ride..."

While fools like us, wanted to get out of our sarees that was deftly modified into a robe. Get home quickly and have the awesome palappam and chicken stew.

Merry Christmas!

yeh school hai kya?

Class 6A - Mrs. Kallur

Class 5A - Mrs. Wesley

Class 4A - Mrs. Pinto

Class 3A - Mrs. Rozario

Class 2A - Mrs. Lobo

Search

Happened to be at Bombay Central railway station. Been so long since I've been to one. Nikunj, aka Chotu, my childhood friend from from the 'area' was down and after a week was heading to Delhi. Rajdhani jaane ke liye, Rajdhani Express.
LED displays, McDonald's, fast food counters but yet nothing had changed.
The mad rush to check the reservation charts, even though, unlike us, most had confirmed tickets. The, "where's A4?" "B8 aage hai?" "Excuse me, yeh Dilli jayegi?"
I kind of liked it. Reminded me of summer vacation. Calcutta to Kerala. Checking on lists to see where, if any, the girls are. How far away was that F15 or F17. And also how far away was the M45 and F43 that accompanied these F15's and 17's were.
The Wheeler & Co. book stall was still there. Paid my tribute, bought some magazines.

But the most disturbing factor was the security or rather the lack of it. Have we already forgotten? Settled back into our miserable lives?

Yes, as soon as you walk in through the main gate you meet the men and a woman in khaki. Seated on red coloured benches lest you miss them.
They watch you, give you a look-over, make some assessments in their heads and then either summon you for a check or let you be.

Held one of chotu's black bags (do most of also feel that bombs are placed in black bags, or is it only me?) and strutted past them. Could see one of them checking me out, waited for him to call me and get on with his routine. But no such luck.

As we had some time to kill, decided to stand near the security desk. And saw one act which made my blood boil. Just wish I had the power to go and sack the policeman.

He had called out to an individual who came and placed his bag on the table in front of the policeman or CRPF personnel. The fool doesn't even bother getting up, painfully stretches out his arm and place it on top of the bag. He then begins to feel it from top. Donno whether he was fantasizing, and for once, even if he were, would like to know. Just that i want to know what are these guys thinking.
He gives it a quick 360 degree feel-up and waves and 'ok'.

I was just standing there watching this in disbelief.

But not all's lost.

there were others to his right who had asked the passengers to open their luggage. They then either took a peek inside, or shoved their hands in and played the 'let-me-guess-if-I-am- touching-a-bomb' game.
No metal detectors. No sniffers dogs. No frisking. No whatever it is that we do in this country in the name of security measures.

Of course there was a black Labrador, who was being taken on a stroll by his handler along one of the platforms. But the only thing he was asked to sniff were the wheels of carts and light poles.

I've always wanted to ask a few questions to every security personnel I have come across, in offices, residential buildings, airports, hotels etc...

a) what is it that you are 'looking' or 'feeling' for?
b) since you are only taking a look, how does a bomb look like?
c) why do I have to not take my bag along with me under the metal detector and then have it opened and checked once again after I have passed the detector?

Probably the dumbest question ever asked...

Its late at night.

A day or two after the attacks.

Set in front of the Gateway, with the Taj Mahal Hotel, Mumbai or whatever remains as background.

Scene opens on Barkha Dutt talking about the death of Sabina Sehgal Saikia, senior journalist of The TOI.

She's on the phone with one of Sabina's closest friend who along with her husband and couple of freinds had dinner with Sabina the previous night and was in her room at the Taj till about 6:30 pm on the day of the attacks.

At first Barkha asks the routine questions before letting go of the big one...

Barkha: "... so, did you at any point think, when you left her room at 6:30 pm, that you would be seeing Sabina for the last time?"

Ms. Dutt, pray tell me, if she or any other sane human being, did know that they would meet someone for the last time, wouldn't they, unless ofcourse they were Judas or did feel what our forces felt for you during Kargil, try and get them out of the situation? OR IS IT JUST ME???

 Yeh School Hai Kya?

What is the spirit of Mumbai?

Started off thinking of not titling this post. But finally decided agaisnt it.

I feel like personally going and slapping each and every single person who utters the words, "Spirit of Mumbai"

I want them to define this spirit of Mumbai.

Is it people refusing to stay at home the very next day after an event like this?

Them rushing towards the nearest local train station or bus stop, wanting to reach their offices and sign the muster before the 'late-entry' is marked?

Or is it the apathy that allows us to carry on with life as if nothing has happened or better still,  thank god, nothing has happened to me or people I know, so screw the rest. When it happens, we'll see.

I do not think Mumbai has any spirit that needs to be celebrated.

It is plain and simple FEAR.

Fear that if they do not reach work the next day, a day's pay or leave will be deducted.

If they do not reach on time, half a day's pay or leave would be taken away.

If at all this is the spirit of Mumbai, why does it only show itself during terror strikes and not during day-to-day living?

If this indeed is the real thing, why don't we see people filling up train compartemnts, bus stops, crowding near elevators whenever a bundh has been called? 

Why isn't there any display of this 'we will not stay down'?

Any living person. no matter what his beliefs are, even a city or a nation has only one spirit. You can't have one for terror attacks and one for other occasions. 

So i guess it isn't spirit  after all.

It is an HR Manager or Admin Head.

Normally we get a heads up when it comes to bundhs, which is more than enough time for those mails to be floating around saying, "Although tomorrow is not an official holiday, we would suggest you stay at home and do not venture out. Also, no pay nor leave will be deducted."

Phew! that takes care of that.

And in offices where there is no intra mail, it generally is a memo that a peon happily passes around, which every employee reads and readily signs off.

Would really like to see a situation where we got a heads up on attacks and similar mails or memos were passed around.

Till then, it is a case of the flesh is willing (to stay at home) but the spirit is weak.

* I have never been a fan of hers. But simply loved her and her opinions. Watch on...

It will not happen to me...

These are the exact words, that resonate in my cranium whenever there were attacks of any kind, in Mumbai or elsewhere.

I need not worry about that serial blast. I was safe as I do not take the train or the bus.

The taxi, yes. The auto, sometimes. But I ask the taxi driver, “Dickki check kiya na?”

I have ticked one of the few boxes in my own mental security sheet. 

Conveniently though, never thought about my work place or my residential space being targeted.

But the attacks on the 26th of November were different.  Not just because it wasn’t yet another of those serial blasts or human bombs or anything that we had been exposed to.

But because it proved without the shadow of a doubt that it is not just the common man who is a potential target. The rich, the powerful, the ‘it will not happen to me’ kinds as well. Which included me.

Never watched as much News in my entire life as I did in the past few days. Did not itch to check out what’s going on in sports or Nat Geo or any music channel. They had me and an entire nation transfixed.  They even had the firang  media interested as well. The CNN’s and BBC’s of the world did cover it in depth. They had to after all it wasn’t just another case of brown skins killing one another. The white skins were affected as well.

I do not feel like blaming anyone. Seriously I am appalled but think it’s my fault as much as anyone else’s.

Yes, I get angry when they want to frisk me at movie theatres.

Yes, I get angry when they want to open my knapsack at malls.

Yes, it irritates me to walk through those metal detector doors. And the beeps just add to my irritation.

I’m in no mood for an argument, so will not react to those who say, “Even if I do comply, they do such a shoddy job of it anyways!”

All I am saying is that why don’t we insist on them checking us thoroughly instead of having that look in our eyes or let our raised eyebrows spell each and every alphabet in, “Fool, you think I will be carrying a bomb? I will be??”

why?

Why is a rich man always framed in a rape case, while a commoner 'surely must have done it'?

Why do we drop someone whenever we give them a lift?

Why do we have minutes of a meeting that has lasted for a few seconds?

Why do we want to wear full pants when you're 10 and shorts when you are 70?

Why is it a problem  when the rubber solution  is spilt?

Why is my phone  always inferior to the iphone?

Why don't we get a chance to use logarithmic tables in day-to-day life?

the big fat Arya Samaj wedding

If a picture is worth a thousand words, here are a few pages as to why I haven't been around to write.

Vivek Iyer wed Michelle Swamy on the 17th of November, 2008 and then again on the 22nd. (Sorry brother, did not carry my camera!)

Vineet Gupta wed Apsara Chidambaram on the 23rd of November, 2008.

clicks

mumbai

mumbai



mumbai

lowe, mumbai

moonar, kerala

moonar, kerala

SJR, Sarjapur, Bengaluru

Bengaluru

A-401, Redwoods, Mumbai

Kerala

Moonar, kerala

Drona mana hai!

'Drona zaroori hai, bro,' mused Goldie to AB jr who was busy trying to obtain the ultimate trim on his ultimate beard. '...For both our careers, bro..."
"Careers? What's that bro?" inquired AB jr as he rubbed the apricot scrub on his nose. (Should that be, 'scrubbed the apricot scrub?')
The story-teller in Goldie awakens as he attempts a 'jao pehle uska sign lekar aao' type delivery, "Arrey bro, it's the same thing Amitabh uncle and Jaya aunty had. The same thing that has ensured everyone knows that your surname has a 'chch' in its spelling. The same thing that has got this ice maiden to wrap up around your arms. The same thing because of which I have made you my best friend. The same thing because of whi..."
"Bas..bas...bas.. bro... " AB jr. taps out and gives in, "...take a chill-pill... ok.. lets do it..."

Determined, they set out to the nearest DVD library and issue copies of Harry Porter, Lord of the Rings, Matrix and Abhay. (Worm's Refresher Course (WRC)- Abhay aka Aalavandhan in Tamil. Probably the worst movie ever made in Indian cinema history. And the only movie I have walked out of.)

Supplier's list;
Beginning supplied by: Harry.
Action supplier: Matrix.
Magical props supplier, including rings, bracelets, Gondolf-like wigs and swords: The Lord.

Abhay was rented out just for kicks. To figure out the scope for improvement wherein the title for the worst Indian film could change heads and rest on theirs.

I am upset because;
- the sword made an appearance so late in the movie.
-there was a mistake in the credits. Under Guest appearance instead of - Drona ka Talwar, it read Jaya Bachchan (notice the 'chch' in the spelling).
-Being a Malayalee, I was disappointed to see that the 'kaada' the Hindi speaking English nun was referring to was a wrist band/bangle which was his source of power and not the 'thattu-kada' (meaning shop where you get amazing porota-curry) which resulted in his powers.

this is my problem vol.1

This volume will hopefully kick off a series that talks about certain innovations that I have no idea why someone has come up with and moreover how someone else has approved.
All of these are either plain and simple annoying or just don't make any sense.

Volume 1 throws light on the 1/4 page or quarter page or tissue-paper-like-but-with-ad-on-it newspaper innovation.
It is that irritating little part that hangs out flaccidly from the front page of a newspaper, posing as some innovation.

Just how do you take control of it?

According to me there are two prominent ways in which people read the newspaper
a)They hold it up in front of their faces, in their living rooms, dining tables, back seats of cars etc etc.
b)When on the throne.

At first I did read whatever it was that was smeared across it but as soon as i moved on to the(actual) front page, there it would go, like the ears of a cocker spaniel.

Thought ignoring would help. Generally if you ignore something it does not come back, unless of course it happens to be a credit card payment or this tumor-like appendage hanging from the newsprint.

It is clumsy, irritating, not memorable at all -- will dare anyone to recall an ad they saw on that tissue-strip...

Here's a suggestion.
Run the ad.
Run the innovation.
Please just perforate it at the fold.
We could rip it and use it as tissue.
Howzatt???

So here's to less use of tissue paper, more tress, a greener environment and a peaceful time on the throne.

WARNING: Download in progress do not turn page...

What is he/she thinking #2

I think I speak for most of us who have ever or once harboured the dream of becoming an MBA, when I say, we should probe into this person's mind as a service to all students and of late, to society as well.

The 2nd guy inside whose head I would like to enter and figure out why he does what he does is out very own Tooth Fairy. Prof. Arindam Chaudhuri of the Dare to Dream beyond IIM fame.

Please do click on his name and check out his website. Do not go through the entire site if you don't have the time or bandwidth (I mean internet) just see the home page. See his many sides, ties and teeth.

He too, much like the Reddy guy peeps out from a corner in a full page ad that has every cubic centimeter daring us to dream beyond IIM's.

Prof., if I may ask, why should I dare to dream beyond IIM. Most MBA aspirants have already begun looking beyond the IIM's and set their hopes on more palatable choices like IIPM etc. OOPS... now I get it...what you did mean was, " Sun bete, IIM toh tere se hoga nahin, toh chup chaap apni aukaad dekh ke koi collge mein bharti le le..."

Now that I think I have figured that part out lets move on to the one of many links on his website -- Movies.
Isn't he the same guy who went about beating his chest or chattering his teeth that there was a formula to make a hit Hindi movie and he has applied it to the eventual 3 hours of rubbish.

...to be continued....

P.E.O.P.L.E.

Any place without the people is just a structure with four walls.
This explains the period after each alphabet in the title.
Each is important.
And this was proved beyond a shadow of a doubt last Friday, the 19th of September, 2008.
Panna, as Nagesh is fondly called has started this once-in-two-months ex-Lowe employee meet. Ok! Ok! We do not take the 'ex-Lowe employee' criteria pretty seriously.
This is an occasion for people who have been in the agency and are in the agency to meet, greet, seat, eat and ask for repeat.
Missed the first two editions. Am glad I could make it for the third. It was just mind-blowing.
The same old jokes. The same old ganging up. The same old madness.
I am pretty sure if the very same bunch had been working for LIC, these re-unions would have been as crazy and fun.
Which is why it baffles me when companies try to 'manufacture' happy-employees and fail. The pool tables, carrom boards, group picnics, floor picnics, coffee tables, movies clubs and god only knows what else is good but the answer is simple. Hire people who are themsleves happy, to start off with, they in turn will spread happiness and voila! you are in Wonderland.
(And if you are lucky, even Alice will be there too!)

What is he/she thinking #1

Am sure there have been times when most of us have wondered why an individual is behaving in a particular manner. I often do, ( and am sure others do the same about me), which is why I wish I could get inside their heads and figure out exactly what it is the person is thinking at the moment to be doing whatever it is that he/she is doing.

The 1st guy inside whose head I would like to enter and figure out is our very own Thumbelina. The Reddy guy of the numerous thumbs up and Country Club fame.

What ticks him?
Why the thumbs up?

Recently saw an ad where he's in an open top jeep, travels from left of screen to right, looking into camera, sunglasses, hat et al with his thumb sticking up.

He came.
He showed.
He left.

If you haven't yet come across him,watch this...



Watch this space for more inside the head trips!!!

Aadmi apni kismet khudh dekhta hai

Had heard and read rave reviews for this movie. Aamir- kaun kehta hai aadmi apni kismet khudh likhta hai?
In most reviews, the stars were on the higher side of 3.
Friends came back from mid-afternoon shows and raved and ranted. Thought it had something to do with the beer levels. Some came back after evening shows and continued to rave and rant. This was serious. But somehow I couldn't get myself to believe them or rather get off my lazy backside and see the movie. That is, till last night.

Maybe it was fate or kismet as the movie poster, which I googled today, proclaimed.

The film is cock!! No apologies for the language. None at all.
It was a waste of an evening.
Why would anyone, I mean anyone in their sane mind think the film is close to palatable???
The story is lame with too many flaws. While being chased by the cop, why couldn't he jump into a taxi in the first place instead of running a marathon, waits for the phone to ring with instructions hail a cab??? When someone's chasing us, wouldn't we to find the quickest escape route??
The acting, well to put it into perspective, the mobile phone, a Nokia 6600, easily overshadowed anyone else's performance. Followed closely in second spot by the shadow that covered Gajraj for most of the film. Sarcasm aside, Gajraj was impressive.

Was trying to figure out why people thought it was a good film. Could come up with the following reasons;

- The hero dies in the end. (We're still not used to this in Bollywood)
- There is very little make up. (If there ever is a film where we have the hero or heroine sans make up, it has to be a good film e.g. Chameli)
- The hero dies in the end.
- It touches on a sensitive issue. (I have to say this- so many have touched the sensitive issue in so many ways and so many number of times, it's lost its sensitivity)

For all those who haven't yet buckled under pressure and watched the film, Bigg Boss 2 will give you better viewing pleasure.

Yes, I have come out of the closet. I am a Bigg Boss 2 fan. I've seen 6 episodes until now and I am hooked.
Don't know what it is about those few will-never-be's but I enjoy it.

Just have a few questions.

Who is the Alina girl? She isn't a singer, doesn't look like a dancer (read item girl), is she a TV actress??

And which item number has Sambhavana done?? Never seen her.

BB2 has become saans-bahu of sorts. Everyone claims not seeing it as it's full of losers but they all seem to be the updated about the events.

When I saw my first episode, I did ask myself -

Isn't Debojit getting any opportunity to sing in the industry?

Why is the saans-bahu lady, Ketki there? Thought she was doing well!

The Roadies 5.0 winner deserves to be. I have been an ardent fan of Roadies but missed out on the last few episodes of 5.0, till somebody told me this guy had won and I was glad I missed it.
Donno whether MTV offered him a job, like they did to most other Roadies, but my guess is that they haven't. And that's why he's here.

Ehsaan couldn't make the cut with his brand of humour it seems. Sad but true.

Isn't Zulfi a moderately-successful model?

But as I continued watching, all these questions seemed to disappear into the wind and meet with the answers, which in any case were blowing in the wind.

Now I do not care who is who and who is what, just like watching them dressed like school children and acting (or are they?) challenged.

Donno whether it is entertaining or not, but it feeds the bitch in me. And I like it.

What 'Pujo' means to a Bengali? by VIR SANGHVI

Most modern Indian cities strive to rise above ethnicity. Tell anybody who lives in Bombay that he lives in a Maharashtrian city and (unless of course, you are speaking to Bal Thackeray) he will take immediate offence. We are cosmopolitan, he will say indigenously. Tell a Delhiwalla that his is a Punjabi city (which, in many ways, it is) and he will respond with much self-righteous nonsense about being the nation's capital, about the international composition of the city's elite etc. And tell a Bangalorean that he lives in a Kannadiga city and you'll get lots of techno-gaff about the internet revolution and about how Bangalore is even more cosmopolitan than Bombay. But, the only way to understand what Calcutta is about is recognize that the city is essentially Bengali. What's more, no Bengali minds you saying that. Rather, he is proud of the fact. Calcutta's strengths and weaknesses mirror those of the Bengali character.

It has the drawbacks: the sudden passions, the cheerful chaos, the utter contempt for mere commerce, the fiery response to the smallest provocation. And it has the strengths (actually, I think of the drawbacks as strengths in their own way). Calcutta embodies the Bengali love of culture; the triumph of intellectualism over greed; the complete transparency of all emotions, the
disdain with which hypocrisy and insincerity are treated; the warmth of genuine humanity; and the supremacy of emotion over all other aspects of human existence.
That's why Calcutta is not for everyone. You want your cities clean and green; stick to Delhi. You want your cities, rich and impersonal; go to Bombay.
You want them high-tech and full of draught beer; Bangalore's your place.
But if you want a city with a soul: come to Calcutta.. When I look back on the years I've spent in Calcutta - and I come back so many times each year that I often feel I've never been away - I don't remember the things that people remember about cities.
When I think of London, I think of the vast open spaces of Hyde Park.
When I think of NewYork, I think of the frenzy of Times Square.
When I think of Tokyo, I think of the bright lights of Shinjiku.
And when I think of Paris, I think of the Champs Elysee.
But when I think of Calcutta, I never think of any one place. I don't focus on the greenery of the maidan, the beauty of the Victoria Memorial, the bustle of Burra Bazar or the splendour of the new Howrah 'Bridge'. I think of people. Because, finally, a city is more than bricks and mortars, street lights and tarred roads. A city is the sum of its people. And who can ever forget or replicate - the people of Calcutta?

When I first came to live here, I was told that the city would grow on me. What nobody told me was that the city would change my life. It was in Calcutta that I learnt about true warmth; about simple human decency; about love and friendship; about emotions and caring; about truth and honesty. I learnt other things too. Coming from Bombay as I did, it was a revelation to live in a city where people judged each other on the things that really mattered; where they recognized that being rich did not make you a better person - in fact, it might have the opposite effect. I learnt
also that if life is about more than just money, it is about the things that other cities ignore; about culture, about ideas, about art, and about passion. In Bombay, a man with a relatively low income will salt some of it away for the day when he gets a stock market tip.

In Calcutta, a man with exactly the same income will not know the difference between a debenture and a dividend. But he will spend his money on the things that matter. Each morning, he will read at least two newspapers and develop sharply etched views on the state of the world. Each evening, there will be fresh (ideally, fresh-water or river) fish on his table. His children will be encouraged to learn to dance or sing. His family will appreciate the power of poetry And for him, religion and culture will be in inextricably bound together.

Ah religion! Tell outsiders about the importance of Puja in Calcutta and they'll scoff.. Don't be silly, they'll say. Puja is a religious festival. And Bengal has voted for the CPM since 1977. How can godless Bengal be so hung up on a religions festival? I never know how to explain them that to a Bengali, religion consists of much more than shouting Jai Shri Ram or pulling down somebody's mosque. It has little to do with meaningless ritual or sinister political activity. The essence of Puja is that all the passions of Bengal converge: emotion, culture, the love of life, the warmth of being together, the joy of celebration, the pride in artistic expression and yes, the cult of the goddess. It may be about religion. But is about much more than just worship. In which other part of India would small, not particularly well-off localities, vie with each other to produce the best pandals? Where else could puja pandals go beyond religion to draw inspiration from everything else?

In the years I lived in Calcutta, the pandals featured Amitabh Bachchan, Princes Diana and even Saddam Hussain! Where else would children cry with the sheer emotional power of Dashimi, upset that the Goddess had left their homes? Where else would the whole city gooseflesh when the dhakis first begin to beat their drums? Which other Indian festival - in any part of the country - is so
much about food, about going from one roadside stall to another, following your nose as it trails the smells of cooking?

To understand Puja, you must understand Calcutta. And to understand Calcutta, you must understand the Bengali. It's not easy. Certainly, you can't do it till you come and live here, till you let
Calcutta suffuse your being, invade your bloodstream and steal your soul. But once you have, you'll love Calcutta forever. Wherever you go, a bit of Calcutta will go with you. I know, because it's happened to me. And every Puja, I am overcome by the magic of Bengal.

It's a feeling that'll never go away.....

wake up its jacob

While on this vacation I did and said things that I considered myself beyond doing or saying.

Did for the first time feel homesick. At least for the first night back in the city.

Always have put it beyond me to wake up at any hour before 12 post a night of rum, tequila, vodka and toddy.

But like somebody once said, “Everyday you learn something new”
Was definitely not the only one who was impressed at this unprecedented feat of an unaided 7:30 am wake up. Good Morning!

Had not seen Chak De (seems I was the only one) and Tashan (obviously I wasn’t in the minority here) or most Hindi movies of late. It’s not that I have something against Hindi movies but then…

Anyways, did sit through both these movies. Chak De is a mish-mash of your staple Coach Carter like Hollywood fare. Do remember a couple of dialogues but fail to place the film though. But am sure it was in the locker room of some high school American football team.
Was a predictable but watchable film.

Tashan for its part can be summed up in just one word. WHY?

Saw a lot of Malayalam movies as well.
Heard the story of the original Malayalam movie from which Billoo Barber is inspired.

Was also part of a debate where Malayalees felt they were at the receiving end when Bollywood or any other Wood paid ode to an original movie it so blatantly or at times not-so-blatantly was inspired.

Someone would copy a Malayalam movie and then a third party would copy it from them and say, “This film is inspired/ is a remake of a film made in any-other-language-other-than-Malayalam”

e.g. Billoo Barber.

Orginal film: Kathaparayumpol by the genius of a man Srinivasan in Malayalam

Remade as: Kuselan featuring Rajani in Tamil

Re-remade as: Billoo Barber with Shahrukh in Hindi. (Will see this movie for sure. Want to see a barber with outstretched arms, scissor in one hand, comb in other and a jumper thrown around the neck. In New York.)

But when ever a mention is made, Kathaparayumpol was omitted or forgotten. And Kuselan-inspired Billoo Barber was how it read.

Did not take sides in this argument.
Did not tarnish my diplomatic image. Once again. Phew!

Saw the original Gajini. Wasn’t impressed. Waiting to see Amir’s rendition.

My advice for people who like to watch movie for fun. Please buy as many of the Rs.99/- only Moserbaer DVD’s. They come with subtitles. They are awesome. I want to buy Moserbaer stocks.

Also zeroed in on 2 movies which I would like to make in Hindi.
Will ensure I mention that they are remakes of Malayalam films.
Wah! What an idea sirji!

been there...done squat

August is a month of travel.

Rain clouds have travelled towards the Eastern part of the country, primarily Bihar.
Mamata and her brigade have travelled towards the Nano factory.
Indian athletes have travelled to Beijing. (I have reason to believe that this 'come back empty handed' cry is unture. They never have, never will come back empty handed from any Olympic event. Duty free ka packets paav se thodi pakadte hain?) Congrats to the three who won a medal. And also tho those who stayed on in their respective disciplines long enough to see the closing ceremony.
I also travelled to Kerala for Bruce's wedding.

It was the first Syrian Christian Wedding I had attended. From start to finish, dessert included.
And me thinks it rocked.

- The whole ceremony took just 45 mins.
- Except the groom, that too optional, no one else is expected to wear a suit.
- The temperature on that particular days was 18000 degree celcius. Or so it seemed.
- You could wear a pista coloured shirt, with a beige drawstring.
- You don't have to tuck the shirt and wrap the growth around the waist.
- You get to learn that brandy mixes well with chilled Kalyani Black Label beer. Especially at half past nine in the morning.

God bless Tresa and Bruce.


P.S. God also bless the guy who got the cannister of fresh toddy.

space

grey house, mumbai

did i tell you?

Last post in May. This is mid August.
I have been lazy. That’s it! Am clarifying this lest it might lead you to assume that nothing has been going on in my life. Or the monsoons had swept me or the events of my life away. 

Since this post will prove otherwise, am wondering....

Did i tell you that I kind of got the hang of Facebook.
Scarbulous is fabulous. Though getting slightly bored of it.
The pictionary thingy is cool as well.

Did i tell you that I bought a house in Bangalore.
Interiors happening-bank balance disappearing.

Did I tell you that Bruce is getting married this month end. Super cool I say!

Did I tell you that I've gotten most people (read mallu’s) to say ‘Enthaaa!” instead of the, 

by-now-religious ‘Wassup!’

Did I tell you that the car’s finally arrived. Tata Nano is and never will the most awaited car, for sure. Every time I uttered the word ‘gaadi’ they were cussing and the ears were bleeding.

Did I tell you about this nice campaign for Deutsche Bank platinum card that's coming up.

Did I tell you that finally I shot a film I was really happy with. Nice script. Made nicer by Aamir and Darsheel, the new boy wonder. Once completed, it should be fun. You have to hand it to the kid. We shot from 11 at night to 7:30 in the morning. He did not even blink.

DId I tell you that I have promised myself to write more regularly. That is the fun of it all. These one liners will not get you anyone son, my drawing teacher would tell me.

Did I tell you what my grandmom would say, "God's given us a memory so that we can forget."

Rest in Peace Ammachi. God bless.

films

Am back. Was I away for too long?

Bumped into another of my closet readers, Purvi. 

The little one of the clan. The one I used to bully the most.

the one who would change her path if she saw me coming the other way.

The one who told me that she read my blog. Regularly. 

The one who did not tell me that I haven't posted for some time now.

The one who lied that she reads my blog.

Are the other lying as well??

Bunk that! Wanna try this first. Video upload.

Seen too many blogs, especially of creative peoples... so peoples, here goes...

Alas! i failed. Will try again. 

Namaskaar Jindal!

Finally I find the time and the inclination to post something that has been, for want of a better word, different in my life.

Hopefully, all the people who read this space, that is a total of 3, know that I had decided to take a break from whatever it is that I have been doing. A month long break. Might not seem long to a lot many folks out there but for someone like me whose longest holiday has been a Saturday and Sunday, that too one followed by the other, this is a big leap.

There were some voices in my head I had to mute before I took the decision to be away.

- Been just about 3 months since I’ve joined my new place. Is it too early to take a break? But then again, was planning to do this before I joined this place but couldn’t…why? Because I was asked to join asap.

- This is the awards season. Things seem all over the place. Although I have AJ and the boys telling me it will be cool… but then it’s never cool till you do it yourself…

Now lets tune in to the practical side of my thinking.

- I had already cancelled once and they gave me the days after much pleading.

- Screw the work! Work will happen. If not now, then later. If not by me then by someone else. I've NEVER done this and if I lose the impetus, probably never will.

So days booked, ticket booked, I was headed for a 21-day break to the Institute of Naturopathy and Yogic Sciences aka Jindal in Bangalore. This was to be followed by a couple of days at home in Kerela.

Now, ‘Why INYS?’

I have been growing, around the middle, a growth that would surely make the then bullish climb of the market a little green.

I met Vinay who had been to Jindal and on his way back left behind 14 kgs. And if Vinay can do it, so can I.

Landed in Bangalore, Friday the 21^st of December. Vinnie and Bruce along with Appu predicted to see me with then 10 days from then i.e. 31^st night. I scorned as I polished off the last bits off a grilled chicken at Empire.

Bruce, being the considerate brother he is, woke me up at 7 the following day, the taxi was waiting to drop me. Jindal here I come!

I was told it would an hour and 45 mins but that seems to be consumed pretty quickly. So here I was at the gate of the mystical place. The 'de-tox' place like some had already started calling it.

Left my bag at the main gate with the security ( do not know whether they checked it for 'food items') registerd, paid up advance and equipped with a enema tube in hand I, oops sorry by now I had become 'The Patient" , the patient was shown his ward.

It was a small cosy single room. Attached toilet, TV with cable connection and a cupboard. Was great from me.

Though I must confess one thing. The moment I walked through the gate and had my first glimpse of the other 'patients' I suddenly felt thin. I was looking anorexic.

And that frequent, "Aap yahan pe kis liye aaye ho?" Further fanned my ego.

So here I was, after my first 2 days, complete with morning walks, juices, yoga and enemas, lying on my bed thinking, 'maybe I really do not need to lose weight!'

But Dr. Nagarjuna inscribe OBESE against my name. Yes, i was a bit on the heavier side but obese!!! The weighing scale decided to side with him and show a whopping 104.8 kgs.

Could hear a quite sigh from within, as soon I did alight from atop it.

The first 2 days were boring. I saw people walk in groups, drink juice in groups, some were even playing badminton and I did not even know anyone remotely.

It took me 2 days before Arjun came up and introduced himself to me. I did notice the occasional glances from people whenever I did pass by. It must have been the hair!

Anyways thanks to Arjun I met Ketan and then Darshan and his dad, Dr. Vaidya. Yesss!! I knew people around here.

Darshan was a Gujju boy, born and brought up in London, been to the London School of Economics, who at 21 possessed a head of a 40 year old, which he kept bobbing from side-to-side whenever he approved or disapproved anything from the contents of his lunch to the horrendous shot on the badminton court.

Having broken the ice at the dining centre, it was time to do the same at the badminton court. Mahesh happened. The soft speak, 25 kilometer-a-day-walking Kannada bloke. Through him I made friends with the rest of the gang.

The Gujju speaking British brother sister duo of Prashaanth and Dershnaa (Read it like it's written and you will know what I am talking about).

The lady 40-day old vetran at the camp, Priyanka. Who, while speaking, paused only to think of the next topic to speak. So all we heard was about her brother's wedding. Her husband. Her family. Her treks. Her job. Her brother's wedding. Her husband. Her family. Her treks. Her job.

The enunciating Ms. Raj. Who we met only from lunch onwards, as the morning walks etc were not happening for her.

Nilz and his wife, forgot her name. Actually never spoke with her, so did not know here name.

Then Vineet and his wife. From Calcutta.

Then the days seemed to breeze through. Actually no. It's not true. Atleast sessions like yoga, mornings walks etc were more comfortable as I had Darshan, my conscience egging me on.

I was losing 500-700 gms a day.

Darshan was about 500 gms a day.

Mahesh was losing more than a kilo a day.

The rest were putting on what we were losing.

More people came. They left. I was still there.

Even more people came, all the people I knew left, I was still there.

What made me think of 21 days! What?