Quite simply, the world's sturdiest guitar. Full 6 months with 3 strings broken, the rest are in tune.
Saturday, December 30, 2006
Wannabes
6.54 pm local leaving from Dadar for Borivli. Two guys & a girl chattering.
The girl: "Why won't four guys sit on a single seat?"
Guy 1: "They can't sit."
The girl: "We sit in the ladies' compartment like that."
Guy 2: "Nobody will try to sit only!"
Guy 1: "Possible nathich che na."
The girl: "Wow."
The conversation halts with a Reshammiya number being played on Guy 1's cellphone.
Guy 2: "That song ROCKSSSssssssssssssss man."
Girl: "Shiiiiiiiiii i hate the lyrics." (haan?)
Guy 2: "No it's awesome."
Guy 1: "Abe sale badbad band kar, gaana sun. Muzhe uska (The girl) haath pahadne de."
Just short of losing consciousness, I get up & get a breath of fresh air near the door. Someone somewhere faraway alights the train. I get a different seat. And I get peace.
The girl: "Why won't four guys sit on a single seat?"
Guy 1: "They can't sit."
The girl: "We sit in the ladies' compartment like that."
Guy 2: "Nobody will try to sit only!"
Guy 1: "Possible nathich che na."
The girl: "Wow."
The conversation halts with a Reshammiya number being played on Guy 1's cellphone.
Guy 2: "That song ROCKSSSssssssssssssss man."
Girl: "Shiiiiiiiiii i hate the lyrics." (haan?)
Guy 2: "No it's awesome."
Guy 1: "Abe sale badbad band kar, gaana sun. Muzhe uska (The girl) haath pahadne de."
Just short of losing consciousness, I get up & get a breath of fresh air near the door. Someone somewhere faraway alights the train. I get a different seat. And I get peace.
Friday, December 29, 2006
Satya
It was showing on our cable yesterday. I could not resist the temptation of seeing almost the entire film. Such is the magic woven by RGV.
The biggest three strengths of the film are its impeccably drawn characters, flawless dialogues and the shock treatment that RGV is famous for. Apart from being realistic and yet a fantastic drama. The transformation of a young man searching for a job in the crucible of Bombay into a feared right hand shooter of a 'supari' extortionist cum hit-man Bhiku Mhatre is smoothly handled. It is Satya's rebellious nature mixed with initial ill-treatment received that claws its way over his conscience when Bhiku hands him a gun to shoot Jagga. A scary fact it highlights is that gangsters are made of common simple young men not too different from any we see every day.
Satya, the only educated man and perhaps also shown as a shrewd mind (Chakrabarthy shows nothing to prove this) starts influencing Bhiku's decisions pretty soon. He urges for revenge on Guru, he asserts that if police can treat gangsters with cruelty the gangsters have a right to shoot the Commissioner, he assures Bhiku that Bhau means no good. These are extra ordinary happenings and I suppose a good insight into real Bombay underworld must be give to RGV by a reasearch team. These decisions also seal the fate of Bhiku's gang.
Satya's love story was as essential for giving a human touch to a gangster's life, as Bhiku Mhatre's wife. However, both Chakrabarthy and Urmila Matondkar are utterly useless actors. By being clumsy, they accidentally show the initial discomfort of their attraction. But later on, they screw up the film big time, leaving the viewer yearning for more Bhiku, Kallu mama, Vakil Mule or Shefali Cchaya.
Bajpai's career got a rolicking start with his Bhiku. Deservedly so. Makrand Deshpande is brilliant with his chameleon like character of Vakil Mule. But my two favourites from the film were Kallu mama & Shefali. Kallu mama, the calming factor of Bhiku's gang is a sensational hit. I did not want him to die. Shefali is a brilliant actor an I am amazed by the command she shows over marathi styled hindi pronunciations. Like, "Kal anda diya tha na?"
All in all, Satya is an all-time great Bollywood flick and I just wish RGV had better brains than would allow him to make a film 'factory' and make cheap disgusting imitation flicks like 'Sarkar' and new 'Sholay'.
n.b. I loved that song 'badalon se kaat kaat ke.......' And of course, 'Kallu mama' & 'sapano me milti hai' are great dance numbers too.
The biggest three strengths of the film are its impeccably drawn characters, flawless dialogues and the shock treatment that RGV is famous for. Apart from being realistic and yet a fantastic drama. The transformation of a young man searching for a job in the crucible of Bombay into a feared right hand shooter of a 'supari' extortionist cum hit-man Bhiku Mhatre is smoothly handled. It is Satya's rebellious nature mixed with initial ill-treatment received that claws its way over his conscience when Bhiku hands him a gun to shoot Jagga. A scary fact it highlights is that gangsters are made of common simple young men not too different from any we see every day.
Satya, the only educated man and perhaps also shown as a shrewd mind (Chakrabarthy shows nothing to prove this) starts influencing Bhiku's decisions pretty soon. He urges for revenge on Guru, he asserts that if police can treat gangsters with cruelty the gangsters have a right to shoot the Commissioner, he assures Bhiku that Bhau means no good. These are extra ordinary happenings and I suppose a good insight into real Bombay underworld must be give to RGV by a reasearch team. These decisions also seal the fate of Bhiku's gang.
Satya's love story was as essential for giving a human touch to a gangster's life, as Bhiku Mhatre's wife. However, both Chakrabarthy and Urmila Matondkar are utterly useless actors. By being clumsy, they accidentally show the initial discomfort of their attraction. But later on, they screw up the film big time, leaving the viewer yearning for more Bhiku, Kallu mama, Vakil Mule or Shefali Cchaya.
Bajpai's career got a rolicking start with his Bhiku. Deservedly so. Makrand Deshpande is brilliant with his chameleon like character of Vakil Mule. But my two favourites from the film were Kallu mama & Shefali. Kallu mama, the calming factor of Bhiku's gang is a sensational hit. I did not want him to die. Shefali is a brilliant actor an I am amazed by the command she shows over marathi styled hindi pronunciations. Like, "Kal anda diya tha na?"
All in all, Satya is an all-time great Bollywood flick and I just wish RGV had better brains than would allow him to make a film 'factory' and make cheap disgusting imitation flicks like 'Sarkar' and new 'Sholay'.
n.b. I loved that song 'badalon se kaat kaat ke.......' And of course, 'Kallu mama' & 'sapano me milti hai' are great dance numbers too.
Thursday, December 28, 2006
Moustaches
I found this man in a train. He did not seem very friendly and yet I could not resist the temptation of clicking his moustaches. Luck favoured me and as he stood near the door facing outside, I could hold my camera steady without being wary of him seeing me.
DSC00834
They sell really interesting objects on Bombay's footpaths. This particular stall was near Flora Fountain.
Monday, December 25, 2006
Municipality
Bombay (Oops sorry - Brihanmumbai) Municipal Corporation is an awesome body. It generates the largest revenue of all cities in India. It makes people pay for cleanliness, maintenance of roads, water, property, transportaion of goods, street lights and many other such 'services'. Its elected representatives are called 'nagarsevaks' (city-servants) and they take great pride in serving citizens. They promise all above-mentioned services and more. They walk the streets before the elections. They draw agendas. They show us dreams. They grow rich and reduce poverty. They wear crisp starched clothes & imbibe personal hygiene. They knock our doors for votes. And we vote. For them. For their beaurocracy. For their cars. For their mobile phones. For their salaries. For their signatures. We pay them even to deliver inspiring speeches. We even love to pay them for small favours. We willingly pay their charges for representing us in times of trouble. This wonderful give & take carries on peacefully. And we build the world's best city called Bombay.
Dan Rhodes
Through his books Dan Rhodes comes across as a man of many sensibilities. 'Anthropology & A Hundred Other Stories' is one such book. I had never read stories as short as those & I'ld call them microstories. TRhodes' narrations progress through very small incidents. What strikes the reader the most, is Rhodes' special magnifying glass that's very selective in enlarging objects. It's a marvelous effort of mixing facts & fantasy that rises to a high degree of abstraction and yet has a firm realistic basis. Rhodes has a great command over his characters and also lets them fly free if required. Rhodes' displays a trmeendous command over the working of the male & female brains. His women - plain, sexy, pretty, commonplace, creative, intelligent and dumb - are so closely attached with each other that they gave me the impression of a single lover he once had. His own amazement at the inexplicable things all those women do is something I could 100% relate with.
For a Rhodes reader - DO their names hint at their characters? I got that feeling but could not solve the mystery.
For a Rhodes reader - DO their names hint at their characters? I got that feeling but could not solve the mystery.
Saturday, December 23, 2006
Friday, December 22, 2006
Scent of a woman
Each time I see this film I fall deeper in love with it.
Right from the outset, Scent of a woman is Al Pacino's film. His portrayal of the Colonel is Al Pacinoesque in every sense. I have observed it many times that Pacino doesn't believe in living characters. He moulds them & gives us something else that Al Pacino in real life would be, given the circumstances created by the scripwriter (I noticed lots of Al Pacino shades even in Michael Corleone).
Pacino's Colonel is absolutely brilliant in showcasing a once vibrant glorious army hot shot who never grew up for lack of diplomatic skills, lost his vision in an unfortunate & yet suicidal accident, then turned into a self-pittying blind old alcoholic who just wants to have one final crack at high life & then 'blow his brains out'. His expressions are vivid and his body language superb. But what proves the killer blow is his delivery. Accentuating emphasis on random words, screaming sentences like shouting commands and laughing in monosyllables (dont ask me how! just go see the film), he steals the show with inspired personification of his character. His determination to kick his 'baby'sitter out, his newfound will to live a cameo jet-setter life, his exhaustion and dejection upon conquering the last remaining mountain and finally his renewed vigour to live on is exceptional.
Scenes to always remember: 1) Pacino banging his cane on the table at the final hearing
2) Charlie watching Pacino perform the tango
3) Colonel telling Harry & the other culprits to fuck off
4) Colonel telling Charlie to give him an inventory of the Waldhorf suite bar.
For die hard Pacino fans, keep running ur vcd's / dvd's again & again. Keep enjoying. & if u havent seen the film yet, it's time to go Blow Your Own Brains Out.
For Pacino haters, cut the crap, watch it anyways. You will not see a better larger than life character after brando's Don Vito.
Right from the outset, Scent of a woman is Al Pacino's film. His portrayal of the Colonel is Al Pacinoesque in every sense. I have observed it many times that Pacino doesn't believe in living characters. He moulds them & gives us something else that Al Pacino in real life would be, given the circumstances created by the scripwriter (I noticed lots of Al Pacino shades even in Michael Corleone).
Pacino's Colonel is absolutely brilliant in showcasing a once vibrant glorious army hot shot who never grew up for lack of diplomatic skills, lost his vision in an unfortunate & yet suicidal accident, then turned into a self-pittying blind old alcoholic who just wants to have one final crack at high life & then 'blow his brains out'. His expressions are vivid and his body language superb. But what proves the killer blow is his delivery. Accentuating emphasis on random words, screaming sentences like shouting commands and laughing in monosyllables (dont ask me how! just go see the film), he steals the show with inspired personification of his character. His determination to kick his 'baby'sitter out, his newfound will to live a cameo jet-setter life, his exhaustion and dejection upon conquering the last remaining mountain and finally his renewed vigour to live on is exceptional.
Scenes to always remember: 1) Pacino banging his cane on the table at the final hearing
2) Charlie watching Pacino perform the tango
3) Colonel telling Harry & the other culprits to fuck off
4) Colonel telling Charlie to give him an inventory of the Waldhorf suite bar.
For die hard Pacino fans, keep running ur vcd's / dvd's again & again. Keep enjoying. & if u havent seen the film yet, it's time to go Blow Your Own Brains Out.
For Pacino haters, cut the crap, watch it anyways. You will not see a better larger than life character after brando's Don Vito.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Arshad Warsi
I absolutely adore him. He has been brilliant right from the word go. Of course he has had some very tough times just after Tere Mere Sapne. But he is more or less a complete actor. And now is climbing up the ladder quite quickly. After Anthony Kun Hai, I won't be surprised to see him as the lone male lead in more films.
He is gifted with the all important sense of timing which suits his extempore comedy style. His spontaneous expressions while Sanjubaba talks to Janvhi in the radio station in Lage Raho Munnabhai are simply sensational. That perhaps is the reason why people stereotype him. Kabul Express was one such film where he was asked to be a funny man even when the film did not seem to demand more than an occasional laughter.
Kudos to Warsi for coming a long long way from where he was. Apart from Shahrukh Khan I don't see any other Bollywood actor who has done so well despite a complete lack of any godfather whosoever. (Amir Khan was professionally launched by uncle Nasir Hussein - quite contrary to common belief)
He is gifted with the all important sense of timing which suits his extempore comedy style. His spontaneous expressions while Sanjubaba talks to Janvhi in the radio station in Lage Raho Munnabhai are simply sensational. That perhaps is the reason why people stereotype him. Kabul Express was one such film where he was asked to be a funny man even when the film did not seem to demand more than an occasional laughter.
Kudos to Warsi for coming a long long way from where he was. Apart from Shahrukh Khan I don't see any other Bollywood actor who has done so well despite a complete lack of any godfather whosoever. (Amir Khan was professionally launched by uncle Nasir Hussein - quite contrary to common belief)
Kabul Express
Saw Kabul Express today. My verdict is - uninteresting. It seems very slow. And lacks a gripping plot. Just a couple of reporters wanting to cover the Taliban don't make a two hour story. The masala of a Pakistani fighting for the Taliban depending upon thse Indian reporters to help him cross the border into his homeland should have been enough to keep viewers glued to their seats. But sadly, the story never takes off. The Director seems to have lost the plot compeltely. He is unsure of whether to make a comedy or an emotional drama. The film - just like any other newer Bollywood flicks - is extremely pleasing to the eye. The rugged terrain of Afghanistan is captured brilliantly. Some of the shots might have made terrific photographs. One that particularly stands out in my memory is the Kabul Express (SUV) moving horizontally against a backdrop of a huge mountain. The American journalist does absolutely nothing in the film and one wonders what is the necessity to have her. (of course she does a good job of providing eye candy) All in all a serious viewer better advised to give it a skip. However, teenage couples in dire need of a coochicooing place can look forward to vacant theatres showing Kabul Express.
n.b. When will John learn to do a bit of acting? When will Yash Chopra make a real thrilling action entertainer? It has been ages since Kala Patthar (even Kala Patthar piddles out in the end its just held together by the brilliance of Amitabh & Shatru).
n.b. When will John learn to do a bit of acting? When will Yash Chopra make a real thrilling action entertainer? It has been ages since Kala Patthar (even Kala Patthar piddles out in the end its just held together by the brilliance of Amitabh & Shatru).
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Attitude
I loved Sreesanth's antiques in face of Andre Nel. Nel has always had things to say to batsmen. Specially when they come from the subcontinent. Wonder why he goes dumb when playing against better teams. Like Australia.
Although luck played a great part in Sreesanth connecting with the ball and clearing the ropes, it was his attitude that I loved. To have the courage to give it back is a lot. Just by virtue of being an Indian we tend to overlook others crossing their lines - we being taught from an early childhood to be proud of our forgiving culture. Some times - if not always - its good to give it back.
He did his pelvic thrusts and the propeller moves with the bat. Nel was forced to see the funny side. And now life moves on. Sanity restored.
The message it delivered though, is an all important one. Even if India lose, they will not take shit from anybody. Even from Nel, who is famous for being a very gentle, caring and warm bloke off the field.
Attitude is the word.
Although luck played a great part in Sreesanth connecting with the ball and clearing the ropes, it was his attitude that I loved. To have the courage to give it back is a lot. Just by virtue of being an Indian we tend to overlook others crossing their lines - we being taught from an early childhood to be proud of our forgiving culture. Some times - if not always - its good to give it back.
He did his pelvic thrusts and the propeller moves with the bat. Nel was forced to see the funny side. And now life moves on. Sanity restored.
The message it delivered though, is an all important one. Even if India lose, they will not take shit from anybody. Even from Nel, who is famous for being a very gentle, caring and warm bloke off the field.
Attitude is the word.
Hansel and Gretel
For the last 22 years at least it has been my favourite story. Since those days when my father used to read it out aloud to me. I could not read then. I just lay in bed on my stomach, alternately folding and stretching my knees, mother on my right, father cuddling me with his right arm and modulating his voice to talk like Hansel, Gretel, their father, step-mother and the witch.
Even now I occasionally dream of a chocolate house. And I still wish I had a sister as motherly and clever as Gretel. She would have thrown the witch in the oven when I got tired of handing the witch a chicken finger.
Long live that nostalgia.
Even now I occasionally dream of a chocolate house. And I still wish I had a sister as motherly and clever as Gretel. She would have thrown the witch in the oven when I got tired of handing the witch a chicken finger.
Long live that nostalgia.
Monday, December 18, 2006
Cricket
The fragile nature of support to our cricket team is evident. Instead of wasting huge news space on criticism of our cricket team Aaj Tak and the likes could do some real reporting. I wonder how shameless can these guys be! Till 3 days ago they were quoting 1000 reasons why India will come home with 3 innings defeats from RSA. I'm going to enjoy seeing them praise the same Chappel & Dravid association for a magnificent victory. It's best they leave expert opinions to the experts.
What is Loksabha going to do about this test victory? Offer citizenship to Greg Chappel? If they are not, they better shut their mouths when the team loses. Remember, the cricket board neither accepts any grants nor any loans from the government. If the common man wants to teach the team a lesson, he can switch off his TV set. But there is no reason for our rhino-skinned politicians to scream at the top of their voices.
What is Loksabha going to do about this test victory? Offer citizenship to Greg Chappel? If they are not, they better shut their mouths when the team loses. Remember, the cricket board neither accepts any grants nor any loans from the government. If the common man wants to teach the team a lesson, he can switch off his TV set. But there is no reason for our rhino-skinned politicians to scream at the top of their voices.
Advertisements
I tend to think Indian TV advertisements are too broad and rely too much on humour. A friend pointed out that Indian audience is far too fragmented and disallows clear cut segmentation of market thereby making it impossible to target ads. My take on some of the present ads on TV:
Maruti is a mixed bag. Wagon R with its 'hot shot photographer' sucks big time. Maruti esteem ad would make me ashamed of buying the car - notice how the father stumbles to find a synonym for esteem. They could have highlighted the low price & large space tag much better and much less insulting to the small town newly rich families. Zen completely rocks. The boxes are an instant hit for me.
Cola wars are hot even in winter. Coke scores over all others while cashing in on Hritik's Dhoom2 and Krish campaigns. The Blue Billion doesn't quite rise for Pepsi. In this role reversal (for many years, coke made its 'official cricket' motto quite popular), Pepsi piddles out. Huha India, Aaya India but boo boo pepsi. Thums Up specialises in the unrbane young male and sticks to its tradition of Salman, Suneil Shetty, Akshay Kumar with Kunal Kapoor. Not quite my taste but they seem to know what they are doing.
Hutch is brilliant as always. Irfan Khan had done magic with his awesome dialogues. Now it's a pleasure to see the Pug follow the kid everywhere, including a magician's box. Is Hutch being campaigned by Pralhad Kakkar? Is that Kakkar playing the magician?
'Beta, tum koi aisa kaam to nahi kar rahe jo tumhe nahi karna chahiye?' Cheers to Motorola! Cheers to the actor who must have maintained the expression till the biscuit dropped.
Appy is good. 'A cool drink to hang out with'.
Will be back with more later.
Maruti is a mixed bag. Wagon R with its 'hot shot photographer' sucks big time. Maruti esteem ad would make me ashamed of buying the car - notice how the father stumbles to find a synonym for esteem. They could have highlighted the low price & large space tag much better and much less insulting to the small town newly rich families. Zen completely rocks. The boxes are an instant hit for me.
Cola wars are hot even in winter. Coke scores over all others while cashing in on Hritik's Dhoom2 and Krish campaigns. The Blue Billion doesn't quite rise for Pepsi. In this role reversal (for many years, coke made its 'official cricket' motto quite popular), Pepsi piddles out. Huha India, Aaya India but boo boo pepsi. Thums Up specialises in the unrbane young male and sticks to its tradition of Salman, Suneil Shetty, Akshay Kumar with Kunal Kapoor. Not quite my taste but they seem to know what they are doing.
Hutch is brilliant as always. Irfan Khan had done magic with his awesome dialogues. Now it's a pleasure to see the Pug follow the kid everywhere, including a magician's box. Is Hutch being campaigned by Pralhad Kakkar? Is that Kakkar playing the magician?
'Beta, tum koi aisa kaam to nahi kar rahe jo tumhe nahi karna chahiye?' Cheers to Motorola! Cheers to the actor who must have maintained the expression till the biscuit dropped.
Appy is good. 'A cool drink to hang out with'.
Will be back with more later.
7chya Aat Gharat
Happened to see a marathi film called 'Saatchya Aat Gharat' (Home before seven thirty). Primarily dealing with the issue of morality and youth, the film narrates a tale of cosmopolitan and urban collegiate youth of Maharashtra. Through the love and romance of these youngsters, the film attempts to set an example of limits, boundaries and traditionally imposed restrictions that the Director thinks should be of help.
The story-line of the film is not off the beaten track. A group of youngsters enjoying their lives with their modern ideas of morality is shown to get an electrifying jolt when a female member is raped by a dead drunk policeman while she is on a physically intimate date with her boyfriend. The Director scores by not merely concentrating on the rattled life of a rape-victim. This has been done enough. Rather she brings in the external perspective. The victim's friends more or less appear to be stable and very supportive. In general even the society does not alienate her completely. But her boyfriend expresses his inability of marrying her after her 'impurification'.
Had the Director restricted herself to just giving a new take on rape and youngsters (and she has done it decently well) she would have scored a few points. But she falls in the trap of giving advice where none is needed. She spends way too much time on explaining how cruel the world is, how justice can be denied and how excessive freedom can ruin a life. She goes completely wrong when she claims that had the girl been home before seven (saatchya aat gharat) the whole tragedy could have been avoided.
She seems to have taken it for granted that if a potential rapist does not see a girl get involved in sexual acts with another man, all rapes can be avoided. The policeman confesses to the court: "After all I am only a 'man'. Whats wrong if after drinking and seeing people have sex, I felt aroused and decided to have my share of physical pleasure?" Through him, Ms. Talkwalkar, the Director asserts that men will always rob women for what they want and it is the women's responsibility to protect herself. Protect yourself, I completely agree with. But Protect by imposing cruel restrictions? Well, this is so 'Talibanesque'. Like telling me not to carry my wallet on me for the fear of attracting a pick-pocket.
I hate the Director for making the film. It portrays youngsters in poor light. Another thing I completely hate about the film is that the victim, her coward boyfriend and all other vagabond characters in the film are non-maharashtrian. Does Ms. Talwalkar seriously believe that Maharashtrians are the most moral in India?
Film makers show us films that are shot from a distinctly male perspective. The all conquering hero, a heroine is prepared to die for and surrender her body to, is a common sight on the Indian silver screen. Of course this 'sexy' looking heroine is the fantacy of the Indian male. Invariably, the mother and sister of the Hero are god fearing traditional looking ladies who exhibit an extreme degree of Indian morality, complete devotion for the men of the house and a completely uncomplaining nature - all of it protected by the Hero.
Ms. talwalkar has been caught in such a trap while making her film. High time she stopped advising the young women how traditional restrictions can keep them safe. I can throw at her face a thousand examples of cruelty behind the curtains of morality and conservative ideas. Perhaps Ms. Talwalkar could mix up more with youngsters and really get to know their side of things before she even attempts to throw around her stupid logic and advice.
The story-line of the film is not off the beaten track. A group of youngsters enjoying their lives with their modern ideas of morality is shown to get an electrifying jolt when a female member is raped by a dead drunk policeman while she is on a physically intimate date with her boyfriend. The Director scores by not merely concentrating on the rattled life of a rape-victim. This has been done enough. Rather she brings in the external perspective. The victim's friends more or less appear to be stable and very supportive. In general even the society does not alienate her completely. But her boyfriend expresses his inability of marrying her after her 'impurification'.
Had the Director restricted herself to just giving a new take on rape and youngsters (and she has done it decently well) she would have scored a few points. But she falls in the trap of giving advice where none is needed. She spends way too much time on explaining how cruel the world is, how justice can be denied and how excessive freedom can ruin a life. She goes completely wrong when she claims that had the girl been home before seven (saatchya aat gharat) the whole tragedy could have been avoided.
She seems to have taken it for granted that if a potential rapist does not see a girl get involved in sexual acts with another man, all rapes can be avoided. The policeman confesses to the court: "After all I am only a 'man'. Whats wrong if after drinking and seeing people have sex, I felt aroused and decided to have my share of physical pleasure?" Through him, Ms. Talkwalkar, the Director asserts that men will always rob women for what they want and it is the women's responsibility to protect herself. Protect yourself, I completely agree with. But Protect by imposing cruel restrictions? Well, this is so 'Talibanesque'. Like telling me not to carry my wallet on me for the fear of attracting a pick-pocket.
I hate the Director for making the film. It portrays youngsters in poor light. Another thing I completely hate about the film is that the victim, her coward boyfriend and all other vagabond characters in the film are non-maharashtrian. Does Ms. Talwalkar seriously believe that Maharashtrians are the most moral in India?
Film makers show us films that are shot from a distinctly male perspective. The all conquering hero, a heroine is prepared to die for and surrender her body to, is a common sight on the Indian silver screen. Of course this 'sexy' looking heroine is the fantacy of the Indian male. Invariably, the mother and sister of the Hero are god fearing traditional looking ladies who exhibit an extreme degree of Indian morality, complete devotion for the men of the house and a completely uncomplaining nature - all of it protected by the Hero.
Ms. talwalkar has been caught in such a trap while making her film. High time she stopped advising the young women how traditional restrictions can keep them safe. I can throw at her face a thousand examples of cruelty behind the curtains of morality and conservative ideas. Perhaps Ms. Talwalkar could mix up more with youngsters and really get to know their side of things before she even attempts to throw around her stupid logic and advice.
Sunday, December 17, 2006
IMG_0319
I particularly love the evening sun peeping in. Somehow its different from the morning sun.
Saturday, December 16, 2006
Feminism
Just recently I had a very interesting conversation about feminism during which I was called a liberal feminist. I did not know that feminism was subdivided. Because of a sort of lack of belief that I have in subdividing different 'isms' I did not agree with it much. However, a slightly deeper probe revealed three types of feminism. And I must admit they are different enough to be classified differently.
Radical feminism is the most extreme form of feminism which believes in complete lack of reason for the male gender to exist. It goes further than that in saying that 'men' are the cause of all miseries for women. For its aggressive campagning, it also came to be popularly known as 'bra burning' feminism. This feminism especially seems applicable in today's age of sperm banking. It leaves virtually no biological requirement of men in a woman's world. Of course except in donating of sperms.
Socialist feminism believes that oppression of women began with civilization. As people settled down and began to hold 'property', the physically stronger sex created a patriarchial society that denied freedom to women. This was done in order to ensure that the male offspring that will inherit 'property' 100% belongs to it's 'father'. Socialist feminism believes that in a socialist set up where means of production and the produce itself is owned collectively by the society, question of inheritance and therefore patriarchy does not arise.
Liberal feminism wants women to be given jobs, thereby giving them financial freedom and liberating them from dependence on men. However, it is the weakest form of feminism that holds little water even against crude arguments. e.g. By stating the need to 'give' women jobs, they are being denied of any status of equality. Also the nature of these jobs as suggested by liberal feminists seems conventionally 'feminine'. And therefore, it is looked at as doing 'favours' to women rather than admitting and accepting any sort of equality between the genders.
Radical feminism is the most extreme form of feminism which believes in complete lack of reason for the male gender to exist. It goes further than that in saying that 'men' are the cause of all miseries for women. For its aggressive campagning, it also came to be popularly known as 'bra burning' feminism. This feminism especially seems applicable in today's age of sperm banking. It leaves virtually no biological requirement of men in a woman's world. Of course except in donating of sperms.
Socialist feminism believes that oppression of women began with civilization. As people settled down and began to hold 'property', the physically stronger sex created a patriarchial society that denied freedom to women. This was done in order to ensure that the male offspring that will inherit 'property' 100% belongs to it's 'father'. Socialist feminism believes that in a socialist set up where means of production and the produce itself is owned collectively by the society, question of inheritance and therefore patriarchy does not arise.
Liberal feminism wants women to be given jobs, thereby giving them financial freedom and liberating them from dependence on men. However, it is the weakest form of feminism that holds little water even against crude arguments. e.g. By stating the need to 'give' women jobs, they are being denied of any status of equality. Also the nature of these jobs as suggested by liberal feminists seems conventionally 'feminine'. And therefore, it is looked at as doing 'favours' to women rather than admitting and accepting any sort of equality between the genders.
Saturday, December 09, 2006
The dark I don't want to name
It's a film I saw at an obscure film screening in Dadar. The film is about the Bhopal Gas Tragedy. Part of my ancestry is from Bhopal. I have heard accounts of the tragedy from Bhopalis. And honestly, I feel this tragedy is a gum thats been chewed for far too long. It holds no promise for any new films.
The dark I must not name begins by promising to do the unpredictable. To try and unravel the lives of the so-called heroes of the tragedy. Like Sunil. A boy who lost both parents and three sisters in a matter of hours. Like Aaina Miyan. Who saw his relatives die like flies. Like those numerous ladies who spend the their lives in a widow house that resembles an abandoned ruin.
The film fails to deliver the different take it promises. It does not clearly probe into how those once cherished 'heroes' of the tragedy that made the front pages of hundreds of Indian newspapers are now utterly neglected. It could have spoken about how rehabilitation is not even considered as a remote possiblity by the government.
There are many moments when the camera movement is agonizingly slow. Repeated shots of the same factory ruins and seemingly unedited interviews of victims that go on for an eternity bored me. Too many scenes are excesssively lengthy and boringly repetitive. Moreover, the director appears on screen with nothing to say. Perhaps she just wants to star in the film.
The film does not seem to follow any logical sequence. It begins with shots of Bhopal's routine life - chai and samosas being served. The same scene is repeated after around 45 minutes when the viewer tends to think that a full circle has been completed and he will soon see 'The End'. However, the film drags on for an agonizing half hour more.
Lastly, the film does not seem to take any stand on the issue. No suggestions from the film maker. No views from experts. No participation from the NGO's who I'm sure don't see Bhopal tragedy as a glamourous issue any more.
After the screening, the Director spoke for a bit. She said she did not want to do anything for Bhopal. She did not want to present the issue to the urban educated classes. Making a film was her primary objective and Bhopal just happened to be the issue she chose. That honesty was good to see.
One thing I found commendable was the imaginative use of colour filters. At least to my untrained eye it seemed quite interesting. The redness of the arriving trains and the bright white lights of the factory ruins stand out in my memory.
All in all, better give this film a miss for its length of 66 minutes.
The dark I must not name begins by promising to do the unpredictable. To try and unravel the lives of the so-called heroes of the tragedy. Like Sunil. A boy who lost both parents and three sisters in a matter of hours. Like Aaina Miyan. Who saw his relatives die like flies. Like those numerous ladies who spend the their lives in a widow house that resembles an abandoned ruin.
The film fails to deliver the different take it promises. It does not clearly probe into how those once cherished 'heroes' of the tragedy that made the front pages of hundreds of Indian newspapers are now utterly neglected. It could have spoken about how rehabilitation is not even considered as a remote possiblity by the government.
There are many moments when the camera movement is agonizingly slow. Repeated shots of the same factory ruins and seemingly unedited interviews of victims that go on for an eternity bored me. Too many scenes are excesssively lengthy and boringly repetitive. Moreover, the director appears on screen with nothing to say. Perhaps she just wants to star in the film.
The film does not seem to follow any logical sequence. It begins with shots of Bhopal's routine life - chai and samosas being served. The same scene is repeated after around 45 minutes when the viewer tends to think that a full circle has been completed and he will soon see 'The End'. However, the film drags on for an agonizing half hour more.
Lastly, the film does not seem to take any stand on the issue. No suggestions from the film maker. No views from experts. No participation from the NGO's who I'm sure don't see Bhopal tragedy as a glamourous issue any more.
After the screening, the Director spoke for a bit. She said she did not want to do anything for Bhopal. She did not want to present the issue to the urban educated classes. Making a film was her primary objective and Bhopal just happened to be the issue she chose. That honesty was good to see.
One thing I found commendable was the imaginative use of colour filters. At least to my untrained eye it seemed quite interesting. The redness of the arriving trains and the bright white lights of the factory ruins stand out in my memory.
All in all, better give this film a miss for its length of 66 minutes.
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
| You Are A Martini |
 You are the kind of drinker who appreciates a nice hard drink. And for you, only quality alcohol. You don't waste your time on the cheap stuff. Obviously, you're usually found with a martini in your hand. But sometimes you mix it up with a gin and tonic. And you'd never, ever consider one of those flavored martinis. They're hardly a drink! |
Saw this quiz somewhere.....
| What mental disorder do you have? Your Result: GAD (Generalized Anxiety Disorder) You can never seem to calm down and always feel anxious for unknown reasons. You tend to not be able to concentrate and have headaches or other anxiety symptoms. | |
| Manic Depressive | |
| Paranoia | |
| OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder) | |
| ADD (Attention Deficit Disorder) | |
| What'>http://www.gotoquiz.com/what_mental_disorder_do_you_have">What mental disorder do you have? | |
Anguish of a cricket fan
I don't know what is it with Indian sports administrations & their hatred for cricket. The only reason we ever get to hear for the failure of our hockey, football, volleyball or any other teams is 'people only want cricket so nobody wants to play other sports'. This is such a lame excuse and more than that it is such an easy way out such an easy way of passing the buck.
Everybody from KPS Gill (hockey), IM Vijayan (football) and Michael Ferreira (Billiards) to Vijay Amritraj (tennis) has towed the same line for just too many years. I wonder what these powerful men are themselves doing to improve their respective sports. And why should Sharad Pawar or Jagmohan Dalmiya be worried? Why should the media and public blame cricket? Its not cricket's mistake that other sports are not popular. Remember, cricket also rose from the dirt a few years ago. Those days are still not forgotten when the national team had to travel in unreserved third class train compartments.
I don't agree that you cannot find a decent number of followers for any sport in this country of a 100 crore. Australia for example has a population of just under 2 crore. It excells at Rugby, Cricket, Footy (Aussie rules football), Hockey, Swimming, Athletics, Tennis, Yachting, Extreme sports, X games and last year they qualified for the football world cup too! On an average any normal Australian fanatically follows at least 2 sports and supports his national teams in any number of them.
I have heard Indians say that this is possible only because Aussies are born sports buffs. Give me a break. Love for sports is a cultural thing and can be manufactured out of nowhere. You make organized concentrated efforts at popularising sports and rest assured it will pay you rich dividents albeit after a decade or two. In Britain, cricket is only the fourth or fifth most popular sport and nobody cared for it till not so long ago. Last season though, the picture was entirely different when cricket stole the show even against the booming opening of EPL & Rugby season. Of course ECB had taken special efforts to promote the Ashes and the English side played well, in turn attracting people to cricket.
At a different level, NFL (American National Football League) made really concerted efforts to popularise its sport. Now American Football is America's 3rd most popular game. Chine began its drive for athletics & gymnastics only after the 80's. And it has risen faster than a phoenix.
The way I see it is that lack of popularity produces poor sportsmen and lack of quality de-popularises the game further. A vicious circle. However, sports administrations can use this very vicious circle to their advantage. If large scale sporting events are organized well they can draw a lot of money which then can be diverted into further popularization of sports and in infrastructure. The Chinese way.
I'm not here to suggest easy solutions. I don't even have enough information on fund raising campaigns. But having all said and done I want our sports administrations to chart out concrete plans for growth rather than make a quiet backdoor exit and do a lot of mudslinging.
Everybody from KPS Gill (hockey), IM Vijayan (football) and Michael Ferreira (Billiards) to Vijay Amritraj (tennis) has towed the same line for just too many years. I wonder what these powerful men are themselves doing to improve their respective sports. And why should Sharad Pawar or Jagmohan Dalmiya be worried? Why should the media and public blame cricket? Its not cricket's mistake that other sports are not popular. Remember, cricket also rose from the dirt a few years ago. Those days are still not forgotten when the national team had to travel in unreserved third class train compartments.
I don't agree that you cannot find a decent number of followers for any sport in this country of a 100 crore. Australia for example has a population of just under 2 crore. It excells at Rugby, Cricket, Footy (Aussie rules football), Hockey, Swimming, Athletics, Tennis, Yachting, Extreme sports, X games and last year they qualified for the football world cup too! On an average any normal Australian fanatically follows at least 2 sports and supports his national teams in any number of them.
I have heard Indians say that this is possible only because Aussies are born sports buffs. Give me a break. Love for sports is a cultural thing and can be manufactured out of nowhere. You make organized concentrated efforts at popularising sports and rest assured it will pay you rich dividents albeit after a decade or two. In Britain, cricket is only the fourth or fifth most popular sport and nobody cared for it till not so long ago. Last season though, the picture was entirely different when cricket stole the show even against the booming opening of EPL & Rugby season. Of course ECB had taken special efforts to promote the Ashes and the English side played well, in turn attracting people to cricket.
At a different level, NFL (American National Football League) made really concerted efforts to popularise its sport. Now American Football is America's 3rd most popular game. Chine began its drive for athletics & gymnastics only after the 80's. And it has risen faster than a phoenix.
The way I see it is that lack of popularity produces poor sportsmen and lack of quality de-popularises the game further. A vicious circle. However, sports administrations can use this very vicious circle to their advantage. If large scale sporting events are organized well they can draw a lot of money which then can be diverted into further popularization of sports and in infrastructure. The Chinese way.
I'm not here to suggest easy solutions. I don't even have enough information on fund raising campaigns. But having all said and done I want our sports administrations to chart out concrete plans for growth rather than make a quiet backdoor exit and do a lot of mudslinging.
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
Rickshaw-wallahs
One Mr. Shankar has vehemently opposed proposed abolishment of rickshaw-wallahs from Kolkata's streets in his article on page 12 of today's Times of India (5-Dec-2006). I must say I'm not a staunch supporter of this abolishment but must also add that the arguments made by Mr. Shankar are mostly superficial, at times ridiculous and do nothing to prove mr. Shankar as one of Bengal's best known contemporary writers as the footnotes boasts.
I am almost in complete agreement with his opinion that the concern shown by authorities is as good as crocodile tears and the cries of 'man-pulling-man must stop' perhaps serve vested interests. He also raises an excellent point by demanding a rickshaw-wallah thanksgiving day. His further suggestion that the rickshaw be declared a heritage transport is decently considerable.
However, his advice 'earn billions by exporting rickshaws' is nothing short of ludicrous. Elsewhere, he gives glimpses of a very sensitive mind but only in phases. As he says, of course we need to include the downtrodden in our literature and not leave it to foreigners to uphold their interests and of course rickshaw-wallahs are a Kolkatan's true friends through thick & thin.
But saying that 'our venerable rickshaw-wallahs render voluntary service' is nothing short of ridiculous. Yes their vocation is handed down from generation to generation but of course any educated man with a reasonably broad perspective can guess that this handing down is more out of compulsion than anything else.
Mr. Shankar argues that the per kilometer rate of rickshaws is the highest among all forms of transport on Kolkata. But he seems to have forgotten simple mathematics here. Any rickshaw runs less than one tenth the distance that motor vehicles do and therefore a rickshaw-wallah has no chance of earning a decent living.
Having visited Kolkata as an outsider I can say that rickshaws are not Kolkata's USP as Mr. Shankar would make us believe. Its USP could well be The tram, tube railway, white dhoti / white saree with bright red border, fish, communism, history, football, mithai, Tagore (any other great writers / thinkers / freedom fighters) or Victoria Memorial. But not the rickshaw. In fact an outsider is more likely to be agreived to see 'man-pulling-man' than amused by a rickshaw ride. I visited Kolkata with family and friends. We found it extremely difficult even to look at another man pulling our rickshaw and it won't be an overstatement to say that we were ashamed to be zooming like crown princes.
Mr. Shankar points out quite correctly that no one has ever heard of a rickshaw puller betraying his passangers' trust or outraging a woman's modesty. It breaks my heart to hear such comments from a writer who hails from communist land. Has he never heard of brainwashing over centuries making the down-trodden belive whole-heartedly that their 'moksha' lies only in serving the upper class with complete loyalty? This is clearly evident when a rickshaw-puller first refuses to accept tips and then almost touches your feet when you pay him a Rupee extra.
Mr. Shankar further narrates how the rickshaw-wallahs have inspired him to write stories (!) and how foreigners (read GORAs) are amused by the rickshaw. I find that neither a good reason to keep hand pulled rickshaws nor funny. Anybody who has seen even glimpses of Balraj Sahani pulling a rickshaw in 'Do beegha zameen' can never fall prey to Mr. Shankar's arguments.
I am not entirely for or against abolishment of rickshaws. I can understand an overzealous decision taken by those far away from reality can be disastrous. At the same time I also don't want to support superficial opinions expressed by the likes of Mr. Shankar who seem to be in love with rickshaws and will want the rickshaws to stay till death do them part.
I just wonder if replacing hand pulled rickshaws by cycle rickshaws will be a good solution.
I am almost in complete agreement with his opinion that the concern shown by authorities is as good as crocodile tears and the cries of 'man-pulling-man must stop' perhaps serve vested interests. He also raises an excellent point by demanding a rickshaw-wallah thanksgiving day. His further suggestion that the rickshaw be declared a heritage transport is decently considerable.
However, his advice 'earn billions by exporting rickshaws' is nothing short of ludicrous. Elsewhere, he gives glimpses of a very sensitive mind but only in phases. As he says, of course we need to include the downtrodden in our literature and not leave it to foreigners to uphold their interests and of course rickshaw-wallahs are a Kolkatan's true friends through thick & thin.
But saying that 'our venerable rickshaw-wallahs render voluntary service' is nothing short of ridiculous. Yes their vocation is handed down from generation to generation but of course any educated man with a reasonably broad perspective can guess that this handing down is more out of compulsion than anything else.
Mr. Shankar argues that the per kilometer rate of rickshaws is the highest among all forms of transport on Kolkata. But he seems to have forgotten simple mathematics here. Any rickshaw runs less than one tenth the distance that motor vehicles do and therefore a rickshaw-wallah has no chance of earning a decent living.
Having visited Kolkata as an outsider I can say that rickshaws are not Kolkata's USP as Mr. Shankar would make us believe. Its USP could well be The tram, tube railway, white dhoti / white saree with bright red border, fish, communism, history, football, mithai, Tagore (any other great writers / thinkers / freedom fighters) or Victoria Memorial. But not the rickshaw. In fact an outsider is more likely to be agreived to see 'man-pulling-man' than amused by a rickshaw ride. I visited Kolkata with family and friends. We found it extremely difficult even to look at another man pulling our rickshaw and it won't be an overstatement to say that we were ashamed to be zooming like crown princes.
Mr. Shankar points out quite correctly that no one has ever heard of a rickshaw puller betraying his passangers' trust or outraging a woman's modesty. It breaks my heart to hear such comments from a writer who hails from communist land. Has he never heard of brainwashing over centuries making the down-trodden belive whole-heartedly that their 'moksha' lies only in serving the upper class with complete loyalty? This is clearly evident when a rickshaw-puller first refuses to accept tips and then almost touches your feet when you pay him a Rupee extra.
Mr. Shankar further narrates how the rickshaw-wallahs have inspired him to write stories (!) and how foreigners (read GORAs) are amused by the rickshaw. I find that neither a good reason to keep hand pulled rickshaws nor funny. Anybody who has seen even glimpses of Balraj Sahani pulling a rickshaw in 'Do beegha zameen' can never fall prey to Mr. Shankar's arguments.
I am not entirely for or against abolishment of rickshaws. I can understand an overzealous decision taken by those far away from reality can be disastrous. At the same time I also don't want to support superficial opinions expressed by the likes of Mr. Shankar who seem to be in love with rickshaws and will want the rickshaws to stay till death do them part.
I just wonder if replacing hand pulled rickshaws by cycle rickshaws will be a good solution.
Sunday, December 03, 2006
Shopping. I hate it. I love it. There are few places as spacious and as pretty as the Inorbit Mall in Malad West. So quite naturally, when Mom & Dad are going on a 45 day tour down under, thats where we head. Dad was really excited about Mom's shopping all along, and he seemed to want to rekindle their romance so he succeded in pursuading her to buy trousers and shirts / tops that she has not worn in the last few decades. The result: In comes Shweta, a cousin who is a regular at wearing such clothes to help Mom shop. Render useless me & dad.
We parted our ways and the younger generation helped the older shop well and choose from the myriad of items displayed so attractively that quality and utility are the last factors affecting your choice. After a few thousand rupees spent in a matter of hours, we head up for a quick bite at food court. Four large Bhature, two chole, Tandoor chicken with puri & rice combo and four chicken/egg frankies later, (ah......... don't forget the ice cream even if I did not feast on it) we head to the alterations counters. It took us just under five hours in relative comfort to finish off a job that would have taken at least four days sans the newly found mall culture.
On our way home I tried forgetting the false dumping ground that Raheja created on the site of Inorbit roughly a decade ago. I tried forgetting the hundred odd huts that were scooped up and thrown into another dumping ground when the construction of Inorbit began. Tried forgetting the dirt cheap long term lease rate (for those with a little enlightenment here, its only Re.1/- p.s.ft.p.m.). But what stayed with me is something like this: If I think I am a thinking man that is to say that I think just a touch more than people who can think but don't, and still I think nothing while acting against my conscience, then the people who choose not to think ever, let alone those who can't think at all, must be real real sheep and goats being herded in the malls by Raheja & Co. not to mention Reliance.
n.b. I still hate the guts of that watchman who held my hand and pushed me out just to make me finish my mint before entering the mall. I always will. I will not think that he's only a man paid to do exactly that job. Because my anger is not against Raheja who showers upong me a wonderful shopping paradize.
We parted our ways and the younger generation helped the older shop well and choose from the myriad of items displayed so attractively that quality and utility are the last factors affecting your choice. After a few thousand rupees spent in a matter of hours, we head up for a quick bite at food court. Four large Bhature, two chole, Tandoor chicken with puri & rice combo and four chicken/egg frankies later, (ah......... don't forget the ice cream even if I did not feast on it) we head to the alterations counters. It took us just under five hours in relative comfort to finish off a job that would have taken at least four days sans the newly found mall culture.
On our way home I tried forgetting the false dumping ground that Raheja created on the site of Inorbit roughly a decade ago. I tried forgetting the hundred odd huts that were scooped up and thrown into another dumping ground when the construction of Inorbit began. Tried forgetting the dirt cheap long term lease rate (for those with a little enlightenment here, its only Re.1/- p.s.ft.p.m.). But what stayed with me is something like this: If I think I am a thinking man that is to say that I think just a touch more than people who can think but don't, and still I think nothing while acting against my conscience, then the people who choose not to think ever, let alone those who can't think at all, must be real real sheep and goats being herded in the malls by Raheja & Co. not to mention Reliance.
n.b. I still hate the guts of that watchman who held my hand and pushed me out just to make me finish my mint before entering the mall. I always will. I will not think that he's only a man paid to do exactly that job. Because my anger is not against Raheja who showers upong me a wonderful shopping paradize.
Taj & Bombay
After a long shopping stint, saw two short documentaries today. Bombay: One City Two Worlds, and Taj Mahal. Mom had bought the DVDs quite some time ago. Today was to be the lucky day for them.
Taj Mahal is a straight forward film stretching not more than 20 oddminutes, rather long for a short film but not painstakingly slow. It opens with the Taj's structure, gives a bit of an insight into Indian Mogul architecture of the lineage of Humayun, Akbar, Shahjehan & the likes. It's a sweet film meant mainly for those who know virtually nothing about Indian heritage construction. For the more learned viewer though, it has nothing special to rave about.
Bombay: One City Two World though, is a different take on this city. It neither screams about how Bombay has changed for the worse nor proclaim its spectacular rise to a global city. It talks about the two faces of Bombay, the Static and the Kinetic as they choose to name them. Static Bombay is the 'pukka' city full of glass age buildings and wealth while Kinetic Bombay supports the former by providing unorganized services like 'Bazaars' and domestic help. The chief narrator quite rightly points out that the failure of Bombay is not in the growing slums but the lack of understanding on part of the town planners to consider the needs of this city for the same. He says that Kinetic Bombay is a force to reckon with and that this force has immense energy that can help sustain the unforeseen requirements of the city. Charles Correa, the famous designer and planner professes the need for Bombay to be ruled by the natives rather than a state cabinet elected from elsewhere in Maharashtra.
The thing that annoyed me was that the film never considered Kinetic Bombay as an identity on its own and never put forward the humanitarian needs of it. Rather this Kinetic Bombay only had the subordinate role of helping Static Bombay grow better.
Charles Correa summed up my views on Bombay much better when he concluded, "There are great cities that are also great places like San Fransisco & Paris. Bombay is a great city and a terrible place. But given a choice I will prefer living in this great city and improve upon its terrible side."
My advice to a first time watcher: Do go ahead if you have imbibed in yourself the spirit of Bombay. If you want a Shanghai here, rather give the film the backdoor.
N.B.: Thanks Marg Publications for the entire series of films on India and its heritage.
Taj Mahal is a straight forward film stretching not more than 20 oddminutes, rather long for a short film but not painstakingly slow. It opens with the Taj's structure, gives a bit of an insight into Indian Mogul architecture of the lineage of Humayun, Akbar, Shahjehan & the likes. It's a sweet film meant mainly for those who know virtually nothing about Indian heritage construction. For the more learned viewer though, it has nothing special to rave about.
Bombay: One City Two World though, is a different take on this city. It neither screams about how Bombay has changed for the worse nor proclaim its spectacular rise to a global city. It talks about the two faces of Bombay, the Static and the Kinetic as they choose to name them. Static Bombay is the 'pukka' city full of glass age buildings and wealth while Kinetic Bombay supports the former by providing unorganized services like 'Bazaars' and domestic help. The chief narrator quite rightly points out that the failure of Bombay is not in the growing slums but the lack of understanding on part of the town planners to consider the needs of this city for the same. He says that Kinetic Bombay is a force to reckon with and that this force has immense energy that can help sustain the unforeseen requirements of the city. Charles Correa, the famous designer and planner professes the need for Bombay to be ruled by the natives rather than a state cabinet elected from elsewhere in Maharashtra.
The thing that annoyed me was that the film never considered Kinetic Bombay as an identity on its own and never put forward the humanitarian needs of it. Rather this Kinetic Bombay only had the subordinate role of helping Static Bombay grow better.
Charles Correa summed up my views on Bombay much better when he concluded, "There are great cities that are also great places like San Fransisco & Paris. Bombay is a great city and a terrible place. But given a choice I will prefer living in this great city and improve upon its terrible side."
My advice to a first time watcher: Do go ahead if you have imbibed in yourself the spirit of Bombay. If you want a Shanghai here, rather give the film the backdoor.
N.B.: Thanks Marg Publications for the entire series of films on India and its heritage.
My house
It's a really old place. No one knows when it was first built. But one of the stones said 1891. We all assumed that was the date when it became. My great great grandfather bought property in Goregaon some time around then. This house and many acres of land. Although nobody has seen what Goregaon was like back in those days, I can sure imagine the orchards of Mango, Chiku & Banana. Many different palms are the local breed here, in coastal Bombay. So I guess those too. Amid all that was a white single storyed house. Very typical of the ones around that time. With mangalore tiled roof. Somewhere in time, perhaps in the middle of some financial crisis, part of the roof was converted to asbestos.
This house is very typically a coastal maharashtrian house in all respects. Coastal, because it does not have a rectangular lay out. It's rather like the ones that can be seen in most of Konkan today. A verandah that gives access to a typical panel patterned door that never used to be closed from dawn to midnight right till the 1990's, followed by really long and disproportionately short alley-like rooms that followed each other like train coaches. The flooring is quite modern for late 19th century, done in some special glazed mosaic. The walls are over 14" thick, of bricks & mortar with layers of 'Chuna coat'. The all important twisting staircase made of teak wood steps that creaks every time something as light as a child walked on them. The open terrace is peculiarly square and small and the windows are low with really broad sills. Of course, the grills as expected are of very think guage iron and they are not exactly large enough to allow the Sun to peep into all corners. Some of the objects in that hosue are really antique now. Like a huge wall clock that's almost as old as my grandfather. An insight into why they are called grandfather clocks. Then there is a chair that cannot possibly be fit into any common sense shape. A huge radiogram that was a two-in-one before the second world war. Of course it played radio as well as records. & yes, it used to be my space ship control room once upon a time. There was table top radio that is supposed to be 100 years old as of today.
Then there are memories. Most of them my own, others narrations from the indigenous people of this house. I have heard of a robbery. The one when my great grandfather was stabbed twice & his kids were rushed off to the railway station by a housemaid to get help from the master. Then the theft when the thieves stepped on pillows to aovid making noise. Oh by the way, they drank five litres of milk before leaving. A servant managed to fracture both his legs when he chopped off that branch of a tree on which he was sitting. That too on the wrong side! Someone falling in a dried up well & refusing to be laying on Mama's cot even to be pulled up. A crazy painter got up with a start one morning & screamed how he could see the Sun through a wall. Well, that particular wall had developed a crack which was filled up on emergency basis.
My mother's voice still echoes in my mind. And dad's assurances that he'll fight the robbers away if there is to be another robbery. I can still sense the wetness of the rag that I used to wipe off my first puppy's piss. And the light from that multi coloured lampshade still lives somewhere hidden in my mind.
Now as we stand on the brink of demolishing the house I just hope that the memories survive even if the house goes.
This house is very typically a coastal maharashtrian house in all respects. Coastal, because it does not have a rectangular lay out. It's rather like the ones that can be seen in most of Konkan today. A verandah that gives access to a typical panel patterned door that never used to be closed from dawn to midnight right till the 1990's, followed by really long and disproportionately short alley-like rooms that followed each other like train coaches. The flooring is quite modern for late 19th century, done in some special glazed mosaic. The walls are over 14" thick, of bricks & mortar with layers of 'Chuna coat'. The all important twisting staircase made of teak wood steps that creaks every time something as light as a child walked on them. The open terrace is peculiarly square and small and the windows are low with really broad sills. Of course, the grills as expected are of very think guage iron and they are not exactly large enough to allow the Sun to peep into all corners. Some of the objects in that hosue are really antique now. Like a huge wall clock that's almost as old as my grandfather. An insight into why they are called grandfather clocks. Then there is a chair that cannot possibly be fit into any common sense shape. A huge radiogram that was a two-in-one before the second world war. Of course it played radio as well as records. & yes, it used to be my space ship control room once upon a time. There was table top radio that is supposed to be 100 years old as of today.
Then there are memories. Most of them my own, others narrations from the indigenous people of this house. I have heard of a robbery. The one when my great grandfather was stabbed twice & his kids were rushed off to the railway station by a housemaid to get help from the master. Then the theft when the thieves stepped on pillows to aovid making noise. Oh by the way, they drank five litres of milk before leaving. A servant managed to fracture both his legs when he chopped off that branch of a tree on which he was sitting. That too on the wrong side! Someone falling in a dried up well & refusing to be laying on Mama's cot even to be pulled up. A crazy painter got up with a start one morning & screamed how he could see the Sun through a wall. Well, that particular wall had developed a crack which was filled up on emergency basis.
My mother's voice still echoes in my mind. And dad's assurances that he'll fight the robbers away if there is to be another robbery. I can still sense the wetness of the rag that I used to wipe off my first puppy's piss. And the light from that multi coloured lampshade still lives somewhere hidden in my mind.
Now as we stand on the brink of demolishing the house I just hope that the memories survive even if the house goes.
Friday, December 01, 2006
Watambwa. Hondo. Matsikinyeri. Mbangwa. Mazakadza. Chigumbura. Taibu.
Don't look so surprised. These are names of people. Strange names from a strager country. Zimbabwe. Erstwhile Rhodesia. The former Biritsh COlony that gained independence in the late 20th Century. Supposedly a beautiful country. Home to Victoria falls. One of the very few cricketing nations.
My love affair with her began way back around '96 & I havent ever been to that place. While playing in the courtyard, we all had to choose an international cricketing team for ourselves. I was a tiny little kid & was given Zimbabwe coz the big boys wanted the more famous teams. I obviously did not want Zim. But I started loving Zim as they began playing better. And the peak of my love for Zim was around the '99 world cup when they played splendid cricket. They shocked India & South Africa. & I went berzerk with adulation.
But what's wrong with Zimbabwe now? Robert Mugabe is obviously a much hated man around the world. Apparently he's a 'messiah' for the poor down trodden tribals of the country. He of course scripted a lot of growth for them & things looked good for some time. Then he became a dictator & the slide of the nation began. Mugabe forcibly nationalized white estates & asked them to leave the country. It was virtual anarchy where being black was as good as getting a licence to kill. Of course, the whites had done it for over 250 years around the world. Still, I don't think law should seek revenge. Henry Olonga, a black cricketer protested with white men against Mugabe & was left with no option but to leave the country.
Also I think Mugabe rushed things too much. He could have made better use of the white dominance & empowered blacks enough before going on a rampage. Now Zim finds itself without wings & the sky is just too big for them to carve a niche.
Sitll, hoping against hope, I'm waiting for that day to dawn when Zim come back strongly & become a force to reckon with in world cricket. After all, progress in sports is only a reflection of a nation's advances all round.
Don't look so surprised. These are names of people. Strange names from a strager country. Zimbabwe. Erstwhile Rhodesia. The former Biritsh COlony that gained independence in the late 20th Century. Supposedly a beautiful country. Home to Victoria falls. One of the very few cricketing nations.
My love affair with her began way back around '96 & I havent ever been to that place. While playing in the courtyard, we all had to choose an international cricketing team for ourselves. I was a tiny little kid & was given Zimbabwe coz the big boys wanted the more famous teams. I obviously did not want Zim. But I started loving Zim as they began playing better. And the peak of my love for Zim was around the '99 world cup when they played splendid cricket. They shocked India & South Africa. & I went berzerk with adulation.
But what's wrong with Zimbabwe now? Robert Mugabe is obviously a much hated man around the world. Apparently he's a 'messiah' for the poor down trodden tribals of the country. He of course scripted a lot of growth for them & things looked good for some time. Then he became a dictator & the slide of the nation began. Mugabe forcibly nationalized white estates & asked them to leave the country. It was virtual anarchy where being black was as good as getting a licence to kill. Of course, the whites had done it for over 250 years around the world. Still, I don't think law should seek revenge. Henry Olonga, a black cricketer protested with white men against Mugabe & was left with no option but to leave the country.
Also I think Mugabe rushed things too much. He could have made better use of the white dominance & empowered blacks enough before going on a rampage. Now Zim finds itself without wings & the sky is just too big for them to carve a niche.
Sitll, hoping against hope, I'm waiting for that day to dawn when Zim come back strongly & become a force to reckon with in world cricket. After all, progress in sports is only a reflection of a nation's advances all round.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
I am scared of reading classic literature. I am too much into non-fiction & that proves a definite hindrance in liking literary narrations. Besides, I read so much by contemporary writers and the english writing style has undergone such metamorphosis over the last couple of centuries that I feel a strange fear of not comprehending classic literature that is widely acclaimed to be a treasure. I'm apprehensive because I might suddenly find myself too dumb to grasp it. Something similar happens when I write. Rather when I deter myself from writing. Again it's the fright of revealing to myself how miserable a writer I am.
For a change though, my curiosity won over my apprehensions. I began reading Dickens. A tale of Two cities. I haven't even gone 50 pages into the book byt I must admit I am already in love with his approach. Rather than narrating events frame by frame helping the reader form cinematic images, he concentrates more on expressions and emotions obviously the factors that appeal to him the most. Like Monet. Like other impressionists.
I just hope my patience with the ancient writing style is strong enough to help me read the whole book. Or my curiosity wins over my boredom of the long, twisted & creepy sentences.
For a change though, my curiosity won over my apprehensions. I began reading Dickens. A tale of Two cities. I haven't even gone 50 pages into the book byt I must admit I am already in love with his approach. Rather than narrating events frame by frame helping the reader form cinematic images, he concentrates more on expressions and emotions obviously the factors that appeal to him the most. Like Monet. Like other impressionists.
I just hope my patience with the ancient writing style is strong enough to help me read the whole book. Or my curiosity wins over my boredom of the long, twisted & creepy sentences.
I hate her. For waking me & granny at 2 am. For making me give her Electral water. Making granny sit with her for an hour. And of course for suddenly getting up like nothing happened & declaring she'll go sleep now everybody else can do the same. I hate that sort of nerve! Everybody goes through stomach upsets. And how about some gratefulness to people who need do nothing for you but still do their best to keep you entertained.
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
| You Are Teal Green |
 You are a one of a kind, original person. There's no one even close to being like you. Expressive and creative, you have a knack for making the impossible possible. While you are a bit offbeat, you don't scare people away with your quirks. Your warm personality nicely counteracts and strange habits you may have. |
Cats interest me in many ways. Incidentally, I hate them. But although I'm a dog lover, I find the behavior of cats remarkable. They remind me of lions, tigers & other big feline predators. If you have seen a cat in pursuit of a mouse, You'll know what I mean. The same sharp claws, hungry eyes, needle sharp teeth & the very beautiful & attractive gait of a world class athlete. We have domensticated and tamed many animals. & they have forgotten how to be wild. Cattle for example. Dogs of course. Most horses. But not cats. The transformation of a cat from a lovey dovey pet that yearns for food & touch into a fierce predator at night must be seen to be believed.
If you ever notice a group of cats just ambling around or may be resting at midday, you would have noticed the remarkable similarity in the body postures & actions of the whole group. The famous NatGeo film in which three lions yawn one after another is a perfect example of what I mean. Desmond Morris calls it 'echo'. May be an extreme frequency of echo actions among cats is where the word copy 'CAT' originates.
Something interesting you can do to indulge in nature while still living in a crowded metro like Bombay is to watch a cat teach its kittens. You'll instantly know how crucial 'echo' actions and imitations are to animal learning. This is an entertaining excercise you can do even to learn a lot about us humans. Why a kitten jumps blindly after its mother on a slippery bark of a tree even after slipping off it several times is something that reveals a great deal about why babies cry first and laugh later. Of course, laughter is an acquired action, manifested only after observation of others while crying is an instinctive one.
Well, I'll continue my 'cat watching' & give you an update soon.
The joy of having finished a knotty assignment it quite different. It's a sort of satisfaction I get out of completion. More than that, it's a celebration of having worked hard, slogged it out, gotten hands dirty. Always loved that feeling. Of course, forced labour doesn't make me as happy. But I like cherishing these moments of completion.
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
It arrived in a beautiful black cardboard box one day. And yeah, Bono seemed in his spirits on the cover. Also the pretty black leather case.
The i-pod changed my life in more than one way. First I began carrying its added weight through the Bombay local trains. Now thats quite a feat of sorts. Then I turned the volume so high that I could reel with the music even in the noisiest trains. Then I feared I'll go deaf & toned it down.
My CD players died. Well they had a special nack for occasionally going into hibernation. They used to refuse to wake up unless somebody sat with them for a couple of hours and stuck a few hurting objects deep inside their ears. Screwdrivers or that sort. Now I've put them to sleep forever. Speakers are suddenly an object of the past. At least walkmans ran out of batteries and forgetful individuals (like yours truly) had to turn the big brother on when he felt too lazy to walk and buy dry cells. 'Tablet like cells walon ki toh baat hi kuch aur hai!'. ;-)
The i-pod made me reliant on music. Made me wonder how I used to spend those hours crammed into oblivion in the ruthless crowds of the trains. That reminds me - I used to read in trains once upon a time. And obviously the crowds have grown with geometric proportions if I can't read any more.
Spending an idle hour with Beatles, Floyd or Dylan and occasionally with Maiden or Tree is a special joy. After hearing some of them again and again and yet again I know they give you more than what first appears. Music that reveals more each time you hear it. Whatevaaaa.......
The i-pod changed my life in more than one way. First I began carrying its added weight through the Bombay local trains. Now thats quite a feat of sorts. Then I turned the volume so high that I could reel with the music even in the noisiest trains. Then I feared I'll go deaf & toned it down.
My CD players died. Well they had a special nack for occasionally going into hibernation. They used to refuse to wake up unless somebody sat with them for a couple of hours and stuck a few hurting objects deep inside their ears. Screwdrivers or that sort. Now I've put them to sleep forever. Speakers are suddenly an object of the past. At least walkmans ran out of batteries and forgetful individuals (like yours truly) had to turn the big brother on when he felt too lazy to walk and buy dry cells. 'Tablet like cells walon ki toh baat hi kuch aur hai!'. ;-)
The i-pod made me reliant on music. Made me wonder how I used to spend those hours crammed into oblivion in the ruthless crowds of the trains. That reminds me - I used to read in trains once upon a time. And obviously the crowds have grown with geometric proportions if I can't read any more.
Spending an idle hour with Beatles, Floyd or Dylan and occasionally with Maiden or Tree is a special joy. After hearing some of them again and again and yet again I know they give you more than what first appears. Music that reveals more each time you hear it. Whatevaaaa.......
People can be weird. I ought to be crowned their Prince. Perhaps King. Well, keep it just Prince. Take my thoughts for example. They are a homogeneous mixture of logic and disorder. I have spent many hours hating all ism's & logy's for haunting me constantly and complicating life. Then I think I myself am an ism of sorts. I can't go beyond the boundraries imposed by my prejudices. But I intend to be free of all of them.
Whenever with great care I try jotting down words, they make their appearance in patches. As if they hate me. Or worse still I hate them. Can't quite pinpoint.
There are times when I don't want to move my bum. Like the sky will shower the world's pleasures upon me & I don't need to desire as I deserve them by birthright. Somewhat like Howard Roark being degraded by praise. And then there are times when I curse myself for being a lazy bum. I don't even remember how many endless hours I have spent dreaming of a perfect world. And the white paint of the ceiling has dulled by my burning stare. Then I scream at myself for being such an equalist. Dog eat dog Rat eat Rat, Crock style, Boom like that.
I prefer clear daylight and yet I feel a cozy comfort in the darkness of the night. Solitary mindgames after all.
Whenever with great care I try jotting down words, they make their appearance in patches. As if they hate me. Or worse still I hate them. Can't quite pinpoint.
There are times when I don't want to move my bum. Like the sky will shower the world's pleasures upon me & I don't need to desire as I deserve them by birthright. Somewhat like Howard Roark being degraded by praise. And then there are times when I curse myself for being a lazy bum. I don't even remember how many endless hours I have spent dreaming of a perfect world. And the white paint of the ceiling has dulled by my burning stare. Then I scream at myself for being such an equalist. Dog eat dog Rat eat Rat, Crock style, Boom like that.
I prefer clear daylight and yet I feel a cozy comfort in the darkness of the night. Solitary mindgames after all.
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Read 'Timoleon Vieta come home' by Dan Rhodes. Nice novelwith lots of grey in it. I did not quite understand why Cockroft had to be gay. I don't have issues with homosexuality. Perhaps its Cockroft's dependence on the dog that Rhodes wanted to stress upon. Homosexuality seems to accentuate the psychological needs of a man by making him reliant upon the oppsite sex for a lot more than just sex. May be that's what love is all about. May be love goes beyond physicality. IS it necessarily devoid of sex? I don't know. May be yes, may be no. May be that's what the dog was all about. Complete devotion in love. Men seem to make wonem the target of their residual anger. The Bosnian kills the dog after all.
Rhodes is a very powerful author. 'Unputdownable' as it goes. The canvas of the dog's journey linking unknown characters together is fabulous. Seems a new idea to a strager to literature like me. May be it's not. The Chinese girl is unforgettable. I wanted to keep with me forever a picture of a Chinese girl that appeared in one of the news papers. And then I remembered her anguish. Don't even want to think what happens when someone cause their father's death. Blacker than coal. The heart I mean.
Is it humanly possible to get out of one's mind & write?
Rhodes is a very powerful author. 'Unputdownable' as it goes. The canvas of the dog's journey linking unknown characters together is fabulous. Seems a new idea to a strager to literature like me. May be it's not. The Chinese girl is unforgettable. I wanted to keep with me forever a picture of a Chinese girl that appeared in one of the news papers. And then I remembered her anguish. Don't even want to think what happens when someone cause their father's death. Blacker than coal. The heart I mean.
Is it humanly possible to get out of one's mind & write?
S has been up & about. She wants me to write. Some time ago I used to. So what if just in a diary? And so what if the diary never went beyond ten pages? I deserve a consolation prize if I can't win a writing competition.
That's so much like Freud's alter-ego. Mind's defence. Flatly, my shame of being a miserable writer won out against the hope of some day writing some sense, every time I started writing. I've lost count of how many times this has happened.
I'll tell my shame to simply fuck off now.
That's so much like Freud's alter-ego. Mind's defence. Flatly, my shame of being a miserable writer won out against the hope of some day writing some sense, every time I started writing. I've lost count of how many times this has happened.
I'll tell my shame to simply fuck off now.
There was a time when I was grown up
I'ld go to school with a head full of ideologies then
Wanted to change the world back then
Wanted to fall in love
And the blue of the sky & the green of the grass
Were the colours of my life back then
Then something happened
I learned to talk
I began appearing myself to the world
And so conveniently they forgot that I spoke
May be they had learned to hear then
Sound took away the feel of us
The unfolding landscape tried to embrace
Us and our dreams
And then just like morning dew
Few drops of rain may be
I felt so light I drowned
Just to refloat and then drown again
Now the world is not so simple
The highs and the lows
Cannot be fathomed
Feels like I'm a child again
Untitled - Can some one tell me what this means?
I'ld go to school with a head full of ideologies then
Wanted to change the world back then
Wanted to fall in love
And the blue of the sky & the green of the grass
Were the colours of my life back then
Then something happened
I learned to talk
I began appearing myself to the world
And so conveniently they forgot that I spoke
May be they had learned to hear then
Sound took away the feel of us
The unfolding landscape tried to embrace
Us and our dreams
And then just like morning dew
Few drops of rain may be
I felt so light I drowned
Just to refloat and then drown again
Now the world is not so simple
The highs and the lows
Cannot be fathomed
Feels like I'm a child again
Untitled - Can some one tell me what this means?
He's been a good man all his life. Professionally he's in the most corrupt field of all times perhaps. He's stayed honest there. He has paid the price for being honest there. It breaks my heart to make him lie. It breaks even more because he's lying, the last thing he would do in his life for his own sake, & he's lying for me. What awaits me in the afterlife? Hope someone questions me after my death, Suddenly I want to believe.
Saturday, November 04, 2006
So Amitabh Bacchan got D.Lit. today. The Marathi daily 'Loksatta' carried a front page story: Amitabh steals 75,000 sq. ft. of land in U.P. Amitabh has been the biggest tax evader after Dhirubhai Ambani. He donated Rs. 5 Crore to a temple after his recent illness. I wonder if he filed receipts to use u/s 80G. OR does he simply not bother? After D.Lit. and M.P. he may contest for Loksabha. Perhaps even Presidency. Already we have Bacchan Mandirs. Then we can have Amitabh's famous single sided coin (of Sholay fame) replacing the Ashok Chakra on the national flag.
Monday, October 16, 2006
Bob Dylan wrote:
'Twas in another lifetime, one of toil and blood
When blackness was a virtue and the road was full of mud
I came in from the wilderness, a creature void of form.
"Come in," she said,"I'll give you shelter from the storm.
"And if I pass this way again, you can rest assured
I'll always do my best for her, on that I give my word
In a world of steel-eyed death, and men who are fighting to be warm.
"Come in," she said,"I'll give you shelter from the storm."
Not a word was spoke between us, there was little risk involved
Everything up to that point had been left unresolved.
Try imagining a place where it's always safe and warm.
"Come in," she said,"I'll give you shelter from the storm."
I was burned out from exhaustion, buried in the hail,
Poisoned in the bushes an' blown out on the trail,
Hunted like a crocodile, ravaged in the corn.
"Come in," she said,"I'll give you shelter from the storm."
Suddenly I turned around and she was standin' there
With silver bracelets on her wrists and flowers in her hair.
She walked up to me so gracefully and took my crown of thorns.
"Come in," she said,"I'll give you shelter from the storm."
'Twas in another lifetime, one of toil and blood
When blackness was a virtue and the road was full of mud
I came in from the wilderness, a creature void of form.
"Come in," she said,"I'll give you shelter from the storm.
"And if I pass this way again, you can rest assured
I'll always do my best for her, on that I give my word
In a world of steel-eyed death, and men who are fighting to be warm.
"Come in," she said,"I'll give you shelter from the storm."
Not a word was spoke between us, there was little risk involved
Everything up to that point had been left unresolved.
Try imagining a place where it's always safe and warm.
"Come in," she said,"I'll give you shelter from the storm."
I was burned out from exhaustion, buried in the hail,
Poisoned in the bushes an' blown out on the trail,
Hunted like a crocodile, ravaged in the corn.
"Come in," she said,"I'll give you shelter from the storm."
Suddenly I turned around and she was standin' there
With silver bracelets on her wrists and flowers in her hair.
She walked up to me so gracefully and took my crown of thorns.
"Come in," she said,"I'll give you shelter from the storm."
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Thane flooded. India's new Venice. A single burst pipeline they say! Hell, no! Can't believe it. Is there really enough water to flood entire city blocks in those pipelines?
Manchester United won away. Benfica dominated the 1st half. But wow, even without Giggs Man Utd were good in the 2nd. Of course Ashutosh will crib. But he does that any how. Wonder why supporting Arsenal renders every Man Utd victory undeserved. I can't help it. Saha's goal was sensational. He's been prolific this season. Fergie has found his new Ruud van Nistelrooy. ManU need at least 2 new signings, both in midfield, this December. Rumour is that Hargreaves is a certainty. So O'Shea won't have to do his central midfielder's role too often. Let's see how things unfold.
Manchester United won away. Benfica dominated the 1st half. But wow, even without Giggs Man Utd were good in the 2nd. Of course Ashutosh will crib. But he does that any how. Wonder why supporting Arsenal renders every Man Utd victory undeserved. I can't help it. Saha's goal was sensational. He's been prolific this season. Fergie has found his new Ruud van Nistelrooy. ManU need at least 2 new signings, both in midfield, this December. Rumour is that Hargreaves is a certainty. So O'Shea won't have to do his central midfielder's role too often. Let's see how things unfold.
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Read about the 'grampanchayat' aauctions in Tamilnadu. Wonder where r we headed as a country. Remember hearing it somewhere that when a ruling system fails the only thing that can keep things moving is black market. Hadn't gathered the full meaning. I guess I'm begining 2 understand it now.
India again lost to Australia. Stupid batting performance. Totally ridiculous. We could have (& should have) won the game by at least 5 wickets in hand. With the World Cup just a few months away I think it's time to settle down into the final world cup squad. Enough experimentation. Revolution can only be a passing phase, not a permanent state.
India again lost to Australia. Stupid batting performance. Totally ridiculous. We could have (& should have) won the game by at least 5 wickets in hand. With the World Cup just a few months away I think it's time to settle down into the final world cup squad. Enough experimentation. Revolution can only be a passing phase, not a permanent state.
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
I was thinking what Charles Manson would be thinking while he did all those crazy things. May be something like this.
insane man's world
insane man's world
insane man's world
and insanity is the sanest thing in that world
after all sane is insane & insane the other
just a matter of perspective
the side of fence we choose sets them apart
never too clever for the insanities
never too sharp for the razor
we lie in wait and hope with our hardest prayers
that someone some day rescues those darkest secrets
until death do us part.
insane man's world
insane man's world
insane man's world
and insanity is the sanest thing in that world
after all sane is insane & insane the other
just a matter of perspective
the side of fence we choose sets them apart
never too clever for the insanities
never too sharp for the razor
we lie in wait and hope with our hardest prayers
that someone some day rescues those darkest secrets
until death do us part.
Thursday, September 14, 2006
Preshit 2
There lives a little America within every big city of this country. This little America imitates everything that the real larger America does despite of the fact that it has only Indian citizens having strictly Indian origins. It eats burgers, sips coke, guzzles red bull, amuses itself on playstations, follows NBA, wears extremely misfitting clothes, listens to hip hop & harbours the dream of a greencard. It is accused some times correctly and some times incorrectly of being indifferent to the problems of the India that lives around it in all those cities. In reality while this little America concentrates on aping Uncle Sam's land, the real India allows itself to be fragmented & fails to see the bigger picture. It is the truth of the land that each community looks after only itself ignoring the needs of others.
Noticing the watchman give him a glance full of contempt Preshit walked out of the college building. He knew the watchman hated, idolised & envied him & the likes of him in the same way Preshit did Sachin Tendulkar. Adulation comes with the follower's understanding of never being able to reach the same pinnacles as the hero and therefore people idolise someone they can be jealous of. In extreme cases jealosy may also turn into respectful hatred. India within India feels the same for the America within India.
Preshit longed for a drag. He looked around and saw a forty something man covering his wooden box like stall with tarpauline against the rains. Inside the box were many different brands of cigarettes but no chewing tobacco or pan. He approached the man & found him too engrossed in his work to pay attention. He put his right palm on the man's sholder. There was warmth in the touch, quite inexplicably so. The man turned around, "Bolo." Preshit mumbled, "Fi Fi." London based State Express' cigarette brand 555 is called Fi Fi in India. It happens all too often from the common mispronunciation of five combined with the tendency of people all over the world to enforce redundency even when not called for. Preshit gave him a five rupee coin & took a coin back. The man handed him a cigarette& also manufactured a lighter from somewhere in the same motion. "Mereko Mama kehte hain. Naya admission kya?" He gave just a nod in response. Preshit noted the skills of a shrewd Bombay businessman. Illegal vendors working on the streets of the city have a special knack of befriending potential long term customers.
The sky was cloudy & Preshit was not carrying an umbrella. He'ld buy a waist length raincoat soon. He puffed on the cigarette, sucking the acrid smoke in his mouth & letting smoke from the previous drag out through his nose. He repeated it a few times till he got a hit. he just stood there watching people walk past him. A girl with a streak of purple in the bob of her hair bought a cigarette from Mama & stood close to Preshit. "Hi jack, JC?" JC meant Junior College. Preshit had little facial hair to boast of. He looked two or three years younger than his age - which was 18. "FY Physics major." "Hmm Someone just got older. You trying to redefine sweat profusely?" She was obviously refering to his drenched shirt & perspiring forehead. The added humidity just before monsoon makes Bombay sweat out millions of gallons every day. A weekly magazine had proved this through some crappy survey. "Gimme a hug & you'll know." She just laughed. "Natalia Fonseca - SYBA." "Oh, Preshit Samarth." The girl had green eyes, presumably lenses. She had an outward curling lower lip below a somewhat smaller upper. And the peircing on the left ear, half way up from the top of the lobe gave her a faintly exotic appearance. She wore no other ornaments, not even a cross. Surprising for a catholic. He had no doubts she was catholic. Fonseca, a typical Portugese name. He decided to make a quick exit in case it started raining before he was in a train. "Bye, See you around." "Sure Jack, oh sorry Preshit." He came stubbed the cigarette & started walking towards Marine Lines station.
Noticing the watchman give him a glance full of contempt Preshit walked out of the college building. He knew the watchman hated, idolised & envied him & the likes of him in the same way Preshit did Sachin Tendulkar. Adulation comes with the follower's understanding of never being able to reach the same pinnacles as the hero and therefore people idolise someone they can be jealous of. In extreme cases jealosy may also turn into respectful hatred. India within India feels the same for the America within India.
Preshit longed for a drag. He looked around and saw a forty something man covering his wooden box like stall with tarpauline against the rains. Inside the box were many different brands of cigarettes but no chewing tobacco or pan. He approached the man & found him too engrossed in his work to pay attention. He put his right palm on the man's sholder. There was warmth in the touch, quite inexplicably so. The man turned around, "Bolo." Preshit mumbled, "Fi Fi." London based State Express' cigarette brand 555 is called Fi Fi in India. It happens all too often from the common mispronunciation of five combined with the tendency of people all over the world to enforce redundency even when not called for. Preshit gave him a five rupee coin & took a coin back. The man handed him a cigarette& also manufactured a lighter from somewhere in the same motion. "Mereko Mama kehte hain. Naya admission kya?" He gave just a nod in response. Preshit noted the skills of a shrewd Bombay businessman. Illegal vendors working on the streets of the city have a special knack of befriending potential long term customers.
The sky was cloudy & Preshit was not carrying an umbrella. He'ld buy a waist length raincoat soon. He puffed on the cigarette, sucking the acrid smoke in his mouth & letting smoke from the previous drag out through his nose. He repeated it a few times till he got a hit. he just stood there watching people walk past him. A girl with a streak of purple in the bob of her hair bought a cigarette from Mama & stood close to Preshit. "Hi jack, JC?" JC meant Junior College. Preshit had little facial hair to boast of. He looked two or three years younger than his age - which was 18. "FY Physics major." "Hmm Someone just got older. You trying to redefine sweat profusely?" She was obviously refering to his drenched shirt & perspiring forehead. The added humidity just before monsoon makes Bombay sweat out millions of gallons every day. A weekly magazine had proved this through some crappy survey. "Gimme a hug & you'll know." She just laughed. "Natalia Fonseca - SYBA." "Oh, Preshit Samarth." The girl had green eyes, presumably lenses. She had an outward curling lower lip below a somewhat smaller upper. And the peircing on the left ear, half way up from the top of the lobe gave her a faintly exotic appearance. She wore no other ornaments, not even a cross. Surprising for a catholic. He had no doubts she was catholic. Fonseca, a typical Portugese name. He decided to make a quick exit in case it started raining before he was in a train. "Bye, See you around." "Sure Jack, oh sorry Preshit." He came stubbed the cigarette & started walking towards Marine Lines station.
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Preshit
It was just 8.30 in the morning & Bombay was already baking under the June Sun. He missed the rains. He thought he'ld make a nice roast meat dish for the vultures if the queue did not move shortly. He wiped the sweat off his brow & opened his new Lee sack. A bottle of lime water rested on one side of the middle compartment. Heat buster! He took a long swig, put the lid back on & replaced the bottle exactly where it was. A fortyish lady looking fairly attractive in her purple punjabi suit turned her head. He blushed as she almost caught him staring at the curves of her body. She smiled knowingly.
There are women who hate boys checking them out. There are hotties who size up another woman's status by the number of heads she can turn around. There are those who just don't give a damn. And then there are ladies who know just why men gawk at them & let them do it. They understand. Perhaps even feel proud deep inside that they are worthy of it. Blue punjabi belonged to the last category. Preshit shuffled his legs. The queue was now moving forward finally. He was dying to get done with the application & go back to the solace of home.
He had scored an excellent percentage in the HSC board exams with even better scores in the Biology group. Hardly a year ago he wanted to become a doctor. But it doesnt take much to spoil one's dreams given the Indian education system. He had toiled the whole last year & finally managed to get done with medical applications & the entrance exam. He had scored well there too. Had he tried he could have been accepted by any medical college except the top ten in the state. He certainly would have gotten a paid seat & his father had the money. But the process had sapped him. Looking at the general lack of regard for the student, the central purpose of the existance of the entire education system, he felt disillusioned. He did not want to rot in those poultry like medical classrooms packed with stupid nerds being shephearded by ever frustrated lecturers.
He thought he wanted to study in an institution where he could feel at home. A place with a human touch. A place that he could proudly call his own. He had always loved Physics and his tutor for the subject had recommended St. Xavier's as the best in Bombay, perhaps even in the country. He had applied immediately & found his name in the very first merit list. So here he was with all annexures & a form duly filled waiting in queue. It took him all of four hours to lodge his application. Looking at his scores, Prof. Vaman Rao, Vice-Principal - Academic Improvement immediately accepted him. 'Your interview would merely be a formality mister. Make sure one of your folks attends it.'
Preshit walked out smiling to himself, thinking the wait was worth it after all.
There are women who hate boys checking them out. There are hotties who size up another woman's status by the number of heads she can turn around. There are those who just don't give a damn. And then there are ladies who know just why men gawk at them & let them do it. They understand. Perhaps even feel proud deep inside that they are worthy of it. Blue punjabi belonged to the last category. Preshit shuffled his legs. The queue was now moving forward finally. He was dying to get done with the application & go back to the solace of home.
He had scored an excellent percentage in the HSC board exams with even better scores in the Biology group. Hardly a year ago he wanted to become a doctor. But it doesnt take much to spoil one's dreams given the Indian education system. He had toiled the whole last year & finally managed to get done with medical applications & the entrance exam. He had scored well there too. Had he tried he could have been accepted by any medical college except the top ten in the state. He certainly would have gotten a paid seat & his father had the money. But the process had sapped him. Looking at the general lack of regard for the student, the central purpose of the existance of the entire education system, he felt disillusioned. He did not want to rot in those poultry like medical classrooms packed with stupid nerds being shephearded by ever frustrated lecturers.
He thought he wanted to study in an institution where he could feel at home. A place with a human touch. A place that he could proudly call his own. He had always loved Physics and his tutor for the subject had recommended St. Xavier's as the best in Bombay, perhaps even in the country. He had applied immediately & found his name in the very first merit list. So here he was with all annexures & a form duly filled waiting in queue. It took him all of four hours to lodge his application. Looking at his scores, Prof. Vaman Rao, Vice-Principal - Academic Improvement immediately accepted him. 'Your interview would merely be a formality mister. Make sure one of your folks attends it.'
Preshit walked out smiling to himself, thinking the wait was worth it after all.
Well....
For the last year or so I've been pondering over writing a novel. I've made bits and pieces starts on nnumerous occasions, each time giving up in a day or two. I know what I want to write about. I know the general direction in which my writing is going to move. But when I start words betray me. This strange phenomenon has become a common thing in my life. I converse with myself beautifully. But the moment I try putting down the same thing on paper or perhaps even sharing it with someone, I find myself at a complete loss of words. It seems strange. Almost eerie. I used to feel the same in drawing classes. I could see a picture on the canvas of my mind. I could peep into this world of thought & could note the most minute details. And yet my sketch would not resemble it the least bit.
Should I go abroad for further studies? My whole life lies here in Bombay. Of course family & friends & yes you guessed correctly. But more than all that, I belong here. I am a creation of this land. My appearance, my clothes, my language, my attitude, my extensions protruding into the outside world, my thoughts, my dreams and even the 'I' in me belongs here. Will I survive elsewhere? Willl 'elsewhere' allow me to be myself? Or will it hack me into pieces, modify each one of them the way it wants & refit to create a new me? Will 'elsewhere' pamper me like this place has? Will 'elsewhere' be a surrogate mother to me? Will I feel at home after losing my way elsewhere? Will I get a free glass of water after roaming aroung 'elsewhere' looking for some unknown objects in the hot sun? Or will 'elsewhere' shun me, wanting me to start travelling in a car?
I think I will do what I've always wanted to do. Go & come back. To go never to return doesnt fit my idea of perfect universe. I hope it doesn't fit hers too.
Should I go abroad for further studies? My whole life lies here in Bombay. Of course family & friends & yes you guessed correctly. But more than all that, I belong here. I am a creation of this land. My appearance, my clothes, my language, my attitude, my extensions protruding into the outside world, my thoughts, my dreams and even the 'I' in me belongs here. Will I survive elsewhere? Willl 'elsewhere' allow me to be myself? Or will it hack me into pieces, modify each one of them the way it wants & refit to create a new me? Will 'elsewhere' pamper me like this place has? Will 'elsewhere' be a surrogate mother to me? Will I feel at home after losing my way elsewhere? Will I get a free glass of water after roaming aroung 'elsewhere' looking for some unknown objects in the hot sun? Or will 'elsewhere' shun me, wanting me to start travelling in a car?
I think I will do what I've always wanted to do. Go & come back. To go never to return doesnt fit my idea of perfect universe. I hope it doesn't fit hers too.
Saturday, September 09, 2006
Cable
I have observed the recent court case whereby the supreme court has benned boradcast of adult movies on television. How about allowing it?
For the last many years the so called moral police have been monopolising the right to define morality for us. We need to raise our voices against it. Why should I miss out on 'Schindler's List' if Prof. Mrs. Naithani doesnt want to see it? What happens to my choice? Let's not forget that television is a medium that a family follows within it's household. A programme on television is not 'public broadcast'. Secondly - & this is the most important of issues for me - why should Prof. Mrs. Naithani & the court decide what is moral & what is not? If it is an incident in a public place then yes the courts definitely can. But as long as it is a private matter to be passed judgement on by each individual, both of them should not have a say. Its not a crime to watch an adult film cleared by the censor board. There is an argument that tries emotional blackmail. Mrs. Naithani will be the first to raise it. 'Our children get affected by vulgar content on TV'. Well, in that case the parents need to be helped save their children. There are enough electronic devices that can block off channels deemed unsuitable for viewing by children without parental giudance. I plead with the court to give me my freedom to choose. Can't we concentrate our energies on more important issues? There are millions of Indians having to survive on a single meal a day. There are millions of children who don't have access to schools. There are millions below the poverty line. Our country is plagued by corruption. Why is morality such a major issue? The answer to this question will be long enough to write a whole book on. Anyways, I want the freedom to choose.
For the last many years the so called moral police have been monopolising the right to define morality for us. We need to raise our voices against it. Why should I miss out on 'Schindler's List' if Prof. Mrs. Naithani doesnt want to see it? What happens to my choice? Let's not forget that television is a medium that a family follows within it's household. A programme on television is not 'public broadcast'. Secondly - & this is the most important of issues for me - why should Prof. Mrs. Naithani & the court decide what is moral & what is not? If it is an incident in a public place then yes the courts definitely can. But as long as it is a private matter to be passed judgement on by each individual, both of them should not have a say. Its not a crime to watch an adult film cleared by the censor board. There is an argument that tries emotional blackmail. Mrs. Naithani will be the first to raise it. 'Our children get affected by vulgar content on TV'. Well, in that case the parents need to be helped save their children. There are enough electronic devices that can block off channels deemed unsuitable for viewing by children without parental giudance. I plead with the court to give me my freedom to choose. Can't we concentrate our energies on more important issues? There are millions of Indians having to survive on a single meal a day. There are millions of children who don't have access to schools. There are millions below the poverty line. Our country is plagued by corruption. Why is morality such a major issue? The answer to this question will be long enough to write a whole book on. Anyways, I want the freedom to choose.
Thursday, September 07, 2006
Omkara
Omkara is a good movie. I could not find 'Othello' in 'Omkara' much to Bharadwaj's credit. The movie is perfectly Indianised. Bharadwaj has chosen the modern day era to canvas the 'Othello' theme of centuries ago. It just emphasises the eternal existance of instinctive emotions.
The central character in the movie is jealousy. Crowning of 'Kesu Firangi' as 'Bahubali' ahead of 'Langda Tyagi' sparks it. Vivek (Viveik ?) Oberoi looks his part. He looks an incompetent fool who has tasted success owing to subordinates. Saif on the other hand has the macho looks that when coupled with a crippled leg create a man who has been denied his worth. He sports a practiced crazy laughter & does everything a typical North Indian Testosterone driven man will. Ajay Devgan has a character that fits him to a tee. He has done well to underplay it. Someone like Sunny Deol with his habit of hogging footage would have been a total screw up in his role. Naseer does well as usual, being his composed self. The bald pate & host of ornaments help him look the part. Kareena looks a woman to be utterly & completely possessed by a man. She looks the woman who when seen with another man will invoke jealousy. Her intimate moments with Ajay aid in this portrayal of a woman who more than willingly has sex, even before marriage. Konkona once again proves what a gifted actor she is with her 'dehati boli' & open referrals to sex. The 'kamar bandh' that causes the final twist in the tail is well chosen and plays an important part.
I found the camera work exceptional. The swing movement to expose alternately the bodies of Ajay & Kareena is wonderfully imagined. Saif's limp could have been highlighted a touch but as it is it serves the purpose.
All in all it's a wonderful entertainment package. Except for the first piece of action when Ajay claims to be a 'sher', not a 'ghoda', the sequencing is flawless. The movie sends its strongest message across, althought this message is to be interpreted by each individual watcher. Initially I had thought it to be a testosterone driven male dominance cinema but it turned out to be pleasantly different. There are pro's of seeing every movie without knowing the storyline, even when there's no element of suspense.
The central character in the movie is jealousy. Crowning of 'Kesu Firangi' as 'Bahubali' ahead of 'Langda Tyagi' sparks it. Vivek (Viveik ?) Oberoi looks his part. He looks an incompetent fool who has tasted success owing to subordinates. Saif on the other hand has the macho looks that when coupled with a crippled leg create a man who has been denied his worth. He sports a practiced crazy laughter & does everything a typical North Indian Testosterone driven man will. Ajay Devgan has a character that fits him to a tee. He has done well to underplay it. Someone like Sunny Deol with his habit of hogging footage would have been a total screw up in his role. Naseer does well as usual, being his composed self. The bald pate & host of ornaments help him look the part. Kareena looks a woman to be utterly & completely possessed by a man. She looks the woman who when seen with another man will invoke jealousy. Her intimate moments with Ajay aid in this portrayal of a woman who more than willingly has sex, even before marriage. Konkona once again proves what a gifted actor she is with her 'dehati boli' & open referrals to sex. The 'kamar bandh' that causes the final twist in the tail is well chosen and plays an important part.
I found the camera work exceptional. The swing movement to expose alternately the bodies of Ajay & Kareena is wonderfully imagined. Saif's limp could have been highlighted a touch but as it is it serves the purpose.
All in all it's a wonderful entertainment package. Except for the first piece of action when Ajay claims to be a 'sher', not a 'ghoda', the sequencing is flawless. The movie sends its strongest message across, althought this message is to be interpreted by each individual watcher. Initially I had thought it to be a testosterone driven male dominance cinema but it turned out to be pleasantly different. There are pro's of seeing every movie without knowing the storyline, even when there's no element of suspense.
Bob
Bob is motivation. Bob is voice. Bob is pure entertainment. Bob is defiance. Bob is a rebel. Bob is creativity. Bob is dreamland. Bob is thirst. Bob is desert. Bob is......... Bob is Bob.
My love affair with him began when I rode on the most simple guitar strums one balmy Bombay afternoon. I'm still trying to find the answers to those simplest of questions he asked me. How many times must the cannon balls fly before they are forever banned is on my mind right now. & the other day while I heard about Malegaon blasts I was thinking how many deaths will it take for us to know that too many people have died.
Bob I'm gathering people wherever I roam. & I have accepted that the water around me is growing. & I have accepted that soon I'll be drenched to the bone. Yes my time to me is worth savin' so I've started swimming & I won't sink like a stone. I know the times they are a-chaning'.
My love affair with him began when I rode on the most simple guitar strums one balmy Bombay afternoon. I'm still trying to find the answers to those simplest of questions he asked me. How many times must the cannon balls fly before they are forever banned is on my mind right now. & the other day while I heard about Malegaon blasts I was thinking how many deaths will it take for us to know that too many people have died.
Bob I'm gathering people wherever I roam. & I have accepted that the water around me is growing. & I have accepted that soon I'll be drenched to the bone. Yes my time to me is worth savin' so I've started swimming & I won't sink like a stone. I know the times they are a-chaning'.
Monday, July 31, 2006
Dunno why but I kept saying a line by Jim Morrison. Its strangely attractive. He wrote abt his gf:
The most beautiful one dances in a ring of fire & throws off the challenge with a shrug! What words!
I can visualise a very pretty girl dancing in a ring of fire with her head slightly bent back & sholders pulled up in a shrug. Wow. It has an eerie feel of sunsuality & yet its not vulgar in any way. Why wasnt I gifted with such talents? Dont mean sensuality hehe. But Jim's language.
I wrote a line abt Princess Diana some time ago.
The prettiest of them all, stuns me in2 submission with her deeds,
throws her head back and sheds a tear of solitude while the blue quarrel
over her silent free remains that glow with pride in a smokey tunnel.
Makes me wonder.
I just think that unknowingly I was drawing inspiration from Jim's line. Did I read it before I wrote this or after? Can't remember.
The most beautiful one dances in a ring of fire & throws off the challenge with a shrug! What words!
I can visualise a very pretty girl dancing in a ring of fire with her head slightly bent back & sholders pulled up in a shrug. Wow. It has an eerie feel of sunsuality & yet its not vulgar in any way. Why wasnt I gifted with such talents? Dont mean sensuality hehe. But Jim's language.
I wrote a line abt Princess Diana some time ago.
The prettiest of them all, stuns me in2 submission with her deeds,
throws her head back and sheds a tear of solitude while the blue quarrel
over her silent free remains that glow with pride in a smokey tunnel.
Makes me wonder.
I just think that unknowingly I was drawing inspiration from Jim's line. Did I read it before I wrote this or after? Can't remember.
Cretor - I
Whether the world was created by a creator or the creator was created by man is a long and heatedly debated issue. Following are my musings.
That there was a creator is a well-received idea all over the world. We can assume that nobody has actually seen him/her and then try to see what could be the reasons behind conceptualizing this creator.
1. Causality: We are so accustomed to the idea of 'causality' that we almost take it as tautology – something that always holds true. In fact we reach such extremes in believing so that we consider every perceivable thing as an 'effect' for which, a 'cause' must exist. Of course, life around us does have a beginning (cause). Most things we use are 'effects' of human creation (cause). It is quite natural to presume that the universe itself is an 'effect' of a 'cause'. Consequentially, we could start from the 'cause' (the creator) and end up explaining the 'effect' (the universe).
2. Orderliness: From the sub-atomic particles to the orbiting planets, the universe seems extra-ordinarily orderly. This orderliness also follows definite cycles regardless of space-time and the nature of matter. Clearly there must be some common underlying principle behind the universe. This common underlying thread may exist because of a common creator.
3. Apparent Impossibility: We do not know and perhaps will never know what is the force that makes the world change. Be it the life cycle of a star, or the evolution from a single strand of macromolecules to the extremely complex life forms made up of billions of cells. It never stops leaving us awestruck, to know that such things do exist. What may be the purpose of the existence of this all? apparently these are impossible events that could not have been triggered unless someone set out to make them happen. Well, what is the possibility that a 2 year old child will paint a 'Mona Lisa' simply while fidgeting with the new pens mom brought it? The possibility of an event stretching from the beginning of the universe to the evolution of intelligent beings on earth is less than ten thousandth of it as per an estimation.From points 1, 2, 3 above, concept of a creator seems to be a logical deduction.
contd.......
That there was a creator is a well-received idea all over the world. We can assume that nobody has actually seen him/her and then try to see what could be the reasons behind conceptualizing this creator.
1. Causality: We are so accustomed to the idea of 'causality' that we almost take it as tautology – something that always holds true. In fact we reach such extremes in believing so that we consider every perceivable thing as an 'effect' for which, a 'cause' must exist. Of course, life around us does have a beginning (cause). Most things we use are 'effects' of human creation (cause). It is quite natural to presume that the universe itself is an 'effect' of a 'cause'. Consequentially, we could start from the 'cause' (the creator) and end up explaining the 'effect' (the universe).
2. Orderliness: From the sub-atomic particles to the orbiting planets, the universe seems extra-ordinarily orderly. This orderliness also follows definite cycles regardless of space-time and the nature of matter. Clearly there must be some common underlying principle behind the universe. This common underlying thread may exist because of a common creator.
3. Apparent Impossibility: We do not know and perhaps will never know what is the force that makes the world change. Be it the life cycle of a star, or the evolution from a single strand of macromolecules to the extremely complex life forms made up of billions of cells. It never stops leaving us awestruck, to know that such things do exist. What may be the purpose of the existence of this all? apparently these are impossible events that could not have been triggered unless someone set out to make them happen. Well, what is the possibility that a 2 year old child will paint a 'Mona Lisa' simply while fidgeting with the new pens mom brought it? The possibility of an event stretching from the beginning of the universe to the evolution of intelligent beings on earth is less than ten thousandth of it as per an estimation.From points 1, 2, 3 above, concept of a creator seems to be a logical deduction.
contd.......
Creator - II
I previously saw some factors that lead me to a creator. I think its time for defining the Creator in detail.
Instead of straight jacketing it in a rigid scientific definition, I prefer mentioning his characteristics in a loosely bound description.
The Creator is a necessary and sufficient condition for all observations that one makes.
If the universe follows any rigid rules (like it does) then the Creator must not have stopped after his creation. i.e. the Creator still oversees the functioning of the universe as the Controller. I think I will fuse these ideas of Creator and Controller and call them collectively as GOD.
GOD being an identity that is external to the universe, no laws of our nature are applicable to him making him almighty, omnipresent, indecipherable, et al. All streams of questioning must stop at GOD. i.e. GOD is not questionable by any of us.
Previously I discussed the necessity of GOD. Here I have attempted to define him. In the next post I will take it further and try to destroy my own conclusions on this issue.
contd..........
Instead of straight jacketing it in a rigid scientific definition, I prefer mentioning his characteristics in a loosely bound description.
The Creator is a necessary and sufficient condition for all observations that one makes.
If the universe follows any rigid rules (like it does) then the Creator must not have stopped after his creation. i.e. the Creator still oversees the functioning of the universe as the Controller. I think I will fuse these ideas of Creator and Controller and call them collectively as GOD.
GOD being an identity that is external to the universe, no laws of our nature are applicable to him making him almighty, omnipresent, indecipherable, et al. All streams of questioning must stop at GOD. i.e. GOD is not questionable by any of us.
Previously I discussed the necessity of GOD. Here I have attempted to define him. In the next post I will take it further and try to destroy my own conclusions on this issue.
contd..........
Creator - III
As I said earlier, I will now try to destroy all my previous arguments in support of GOD to verify if they stand the test of scrutiny. Refer to the first post of this series where I had given reasons why while understanding the universe do we have to assume the existence of GOD. I will use that post as the basis for further arguments.
Causality: Causality is inherently a human concept. Is 'cause' really necessary for any occurrence? In other words, is every occurrence we observe an 'effect'? The answer is no. Probabilistic events are definitely not 'cause'd by anything. Now you may ask what is so special about them? To understand this take the example of an unbiased coin toss. It is certain that repeated toss of a coin yields roughly equal number of heads and tails. However, if in an experiment one observes 90 % heads and only 10 % tails (even this occurrence has a definite non-zero probability) then how valid is it to ask WHY? Such a question is invalid. Why should half of the mass of radioactive elements decay in its half-life? If 10 years is the half-life of such element X and we have 10 kg of X, then in 10 years time 5 kg will undergo decay. Strangely, out of the remaining 5 kg, only 2.5 kg will decay in the next 10 years. Well, again, WHY is not a valid question here. It simply means that one out of two atoms/molecules of such an element undergoes decay in time equal to half-life. Consequentially, causality is not a universal truth.
Orderliness: Although the universe appears neatly ordered to the casual viewer, it is not so. The deeper we probe, the less organized it proves itself to be. There are too many randomly moving astronomical objects such as asteroids, comets, quasars etc. and plenty of massive gaseous clouds (nothing can move as randomly as gas molecules). In the living world, apart from surety of life and death there are no common threads whatsoever. After quantum mechanical uncertainties and dualities, and their probabilistic interpretation of the microscopic world, things appear less orderly at the microscopic level too.
Impossibility: What is the possibility of any event? Well, the answer is not as easy as it may seem. Events seem more or less likely to occur. Some seem certain and yet others impossible. Lets not forget though, that our estimation of the likelihood of an occurrence very much depends upon how many times have we seen it before. e.g. A man in the medieval ages could never believe that most modern machines are true. And yet they have come into being. Clearly, something that was never observed would seem impossible. Note that it need not be impossible. My argument for GOD in previous posts was that an event as impossible as existence of universe must have been triggered by GOD. However, it is equally likely that it was not an unlikely event at all! A great way to express this is by quoting the Weak Anthropic Principle: "We see the universe the way it is because if it were different, we would not be here to observe it." i.e. the very fact that the universe exists means that the formation of it had a finite non-zero probability. Perhaps this probability was one (100%).I think I can safely say that at the moment our perception is leading us away from GOD.
I have played the Devil's Advocate through the 3 Cretor posts. It's not perfectly flawless logic that accompanies such analyses. However, I hope it has helped me throw some light on this highly debateble issue.
Causality: Causality is inherently a human concept. Is 'cause' really necessary for any occurrence? In other words, is every occurrence we observe an 'effect'? The answer is no. Probabilistic events are definitely not 'cause'd by anything. Now you may ask what is so special about them? To understand this take the example of an unbiased coin toss. It is certain that repeated toss of a coin yields roughly equal number of heads and tails. However, if in an experiment one observes 90 % heads and only 10 % tails (even this occurrence has a definite non-zero probability) then how valid is it to ask WHY? Such a question is invalid. Why should half of the mass of radioactive elements decay in its half-life? If 10 years is the half-life of such element X and we have 10 kg of X, then in 10 years time 5 kg will undergo decay. Strangely, out of the remaining 5 kg, only 2.5 kg will decay in the next 10 years. Well, again, WHY is not a valid question here. It simply means that one out of two atoms/molecules of such an element undergoes decay in time equal to half-life. Consequentially, causality is not a universal truth.
Orderliness: Although the universe appears neatly ordered to the casual viewer, it is not so. The deeper we probe, the less organized it proves itself to be. There are too many randomly moving astronomical objects such as asteroids, comets, quasars etc. and plenty of massive gaseous clouds (nothing can move as randomly as gas molecules). In the living world, apart from surety of life and death there are no common threads whatsoever. After quantum mechanical uncertainties and dualities, and their probabilistic interpretation of the microscopic world, things appear less orderly at the microscopic level too.
Impossibility: What is the possibility of any event? Well, the answer is not as easy as it may seem. Events seem more or less likely to occur. Some seem certain and yet others impossible. Lets not forget though, that our estimation of the likelihood of an occurrence very much depends upon how many times have we seen it before. e.g. A man in the medieval ages could never believe that most modern machines are true. And yet they have come into being. Clearly, something that was never observed would seem impossible. Note that it need not be impossible. My argument for GOD in previous posts was that an event as impossible as existence of universe must have been triggered by GOD. However, it is equally likely that it was not an unlikely event at all! A great way to express this is by quoting the Weak Anthropic Principle: "We see the universe the way it is because if it were different, we would not be here to observe it." i.e. the very fact that the universe exists means that the formation of it had a finite non-zero probability. Perhaps this probability was one (100%).I think I can safely say that at the moment our perception is leading us away from GOD.
I have played the Devil's Advocate through the 3 Cretor posts. It's not perfectly flawless logic that accompanies such analyses. However, I hope it has helped me throw some light on this highly debateble issue.
Free
Last week I read a piece about free thinkers' society. The interesting part was that the so-called free thinkers restricted themselves to ONLY unconventional thoughts. I was amused.A few days later I happened to have a discussion with a friend about Mittal's Arcelor bid. She thought it was a hostile bid because should Mittal own Arcelor, a monopoly would form. As always, her views were logical & therefore hard to counter. I argued that nobody can stop Mittal from producing & selling over 10% of world's production through the companies he already owns & therefore we shouldn't mind if he does it by way of mergers. I also said that the entire 'FREE' economy works towards killing competition by various ways such as influencing potential buyers through advertising. In short, it tries to establish monopolies. We both stuck to our views & ended the debate quickly.In a curious way, the free thinkers' society & Mittal's Arcelor bid make me ponder over 'FREE'.Is any kind of thinking 'FREE'? Is any economy 'FREE'? Does 'FREE' exist?Well, what exactly is 'FREE'? Oxford Advanced Learner's Dictionary lists at least 14 meanings of the word. The most relevant are, 1) allowed to go where one wants, 2) not restricted or controlled. (I am of course ignoring "ek pe ek free!")Why the free thinkers' society sticks to the unconventional is now easy to see. If one has to show he is 'FREE' to think, then he MUST disregard the restrictions / controls imposed by the social norms / conventions. In short the urge to SHOW dominates. Ideally though, 'FREE' thinking ought to be 'FREE' of conventions AND UN-conventions. I hope the UN-queen's English helps me assert the point.They say thinking is a process that must be learned. A child's upbringing helps develop it. And the development never stops. It forms a continuum in time unless external catalysts trigger a radical shift. Therefore, our thinking is never completely 'FREE'. It always carries the burden of past experiences & influences. i.e. Future continuum of thinking is determined by the past continuum and triggers if any.Development of the concept of economy follows almost an identical path except that triggers may be internal as well as external. Russian revolution is a good example of an internal trigger whereas S.Korea's progress is largely due to external triggers. Once again, triggers along with continua* before & after them will always influence future continuum of an economy. Thus there is no reason to believe that a 'FREE' economy can exist.There is more to it. 'Currency', the basis of today's 'FREE' economy itself is the biggest hindrance en route to 'FREE' economy. When we start measuring everything in this world in terms of 'Money', we widen the divide between the HAVEs & the HAVE NOTs. This gap concentrates power & limits choice, in effect negating 'FREE'. I strongly feel that if modern economics was barter based then the Arabs wouldn't be demanding a small fortune for a barrel of petroleum & a sack of potatoes could get you a notebook computer.In short aiming to be 'FREE' is paradoxical since it only leads you to newer restrictions & newer traps. It seems like falling down a rabbit hole not knowing how deep it goes.Conclusion: 'FREE' is non-existent.* datum : data :: continuum : continua ?
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Oooph!
Life is tough & not so tough. How do we determine the degree of life's toughess? Well lets accept that this degree does vary. Of course its all abt how we perceive things. We may feel life's good when the hardships we go thru r much more and vice versa.A good indicator could b how much we enjoy life. Feeling good abt things does mean that we r enjoyin them. These days life is quite simple. At least my life is simple. As in its uncomplicated. Wake up, go 2 work, come back, catch up with friends, spend time online & back 2 bed.So am I enjoying it? Am i getting bored? I dont know. And its this 'I dont know' that bothers me most. Off late there have been too many questions that I answer 'I dont know'. When did I start becoming so self-unaware? I have always understood me quite well. But somewhere down the line things have changed. Where? Again, I dont know. Why? I dont know. How? I dont know. Its high time I put my foot down & stopped this non-sense.I'm goin 2 go back 2 my old days. Going to start doing the analysis of my thinking process coz it looks highly likely that my way of posing questions to myself is misleading me into unknown territory. If I want the right answers then I must ask the right questions. Back to the drawing board.
USSR
For quite a long time I've been wonderin why communism failed. I won't go in2 too many details & give u a big preamble abt Marxism. Lets just say that the gyst of Communism is in the answer 2 a simple question: Who controls the means of production? It may b production of anything including human resource. In layman's terms communism tells us that the state (nation / society) shud have the control. Under communist regime, a nation aims to utilise the resources available to it in the best possible manner.
B4 I go in2 my own reasons 4 the failure of such systems, let me tell u somethin i learnt in physics. The subject was thermodynamics. It deals with the principles of heat exchange. To generalise & simplify cases of heat exchange the fundamental laws of thermodynamics r formulated for certain gases called Ideal Gases. There r 2 ways 2 treat these gas systems.
1. The macroscopic way deals with the entire gas as a single body with certain characteristics.
2. The microscopic way deals with each atom/molecule of the gas separately. Microscopic way is practically better applicable coz no gas made up of discrete particles can behave as a single body.
I guess u must hv got a fair idea of wht i'm goin 2 say next.
U r rite.
I think communism puts the society ahead of the individual. This is where I think it goes wrong. No society can ever make progress by suppressin its component parts. The macroscopic view of the human society can b used 2 determine general trends or patterns. But if we try 2 box up a whole nation of living vibrant citizens in2 a single society then we r bound 2 fail. Simple example? Here it is: What motivation does a worker on a state owned farm have 2 do his best job? Ultimately, it is the state thats responsible 4 its belongings, not the citizens.
Yes yes I do know all abt patriotism & selflessness. But really, those virtues need events of majestic scales 2 bring out the best in ppl. IF world war III ensues, I may b forced 2 join the army. I may even want 2 die 4 the nation. But I won't keep my city clean with patriotic thoughts. 2 keep my city clean I need the motivation of keepin myself desease free.
Secondly, communism kills competition. Competition is the ONLY drivin factor in nature (& we r ONLY a part of nature) that breeds quality. The vast oil reserves of siberia that still lie unexplored r evidence enuf.
Thirdly, communism builds up a beaurocratic system that becomes impossible 2 penetrate. Again, the State is responsible, not the ppl who run it.
The biggest draw back of communism is the lack of freedom. The Have Nots remain Have Nots but even worse they lose the rite 2 complain. A society thats not free 2 smile is a society thats doomed 2 collapse
B4 I go in2 my own reasons 4 the failure of such systems, let me tell u somethin i learnt in physics. The subject was thermodynamics. It deals with the principles of heat exchange. To generalise & simplify cases of heat exchange the fundamental laws of thermodynamics r formulated for certain gases called Ideal Gases. There r 2 ways 2 treat these gas systems.
1. The macroscopic way deals with the entire gas as a single body with certain characteristics.
2. The microscopic way deals with each atom/molecule of the gas separately. Microscopic way is practically better applicable coz no gas made up of discrete particles can behave as a single body.
I guess u must hv got a fair idea of wht i'm goin 2 say next.
U r rite.
I think communism puts the society ahead of the individual. This is where I think it goes wrong. No society can ever make progress by suppressin its component parts. The macroscopic view of the human society can b used 2 determine general trends or patterns. But if we try 2 box up a whole nation of living vibrant citizens in2 a single society then we r bound 2 fail. Simple example? Here it is: What motivation does a worker on a state owned farm have 2 do his best job? Ultimately, it is the state thats responsible 4 its belongings, not the citizens.
Yes yes I do know all abt patriotism & selflessness. But really, those virtues need events of majestic scales 2 bring out the best in ppl. IF world war III ensues, I may b forced 2 join the army. I may even want 2 die 4 the nation. But I won't keep my city clean with patriotic thoughts. 2 keep my city clean I need the motivation of keepin myself desease free.
Secondly, communism kills competition. Competition is the ONLY drivin factor in nature (& we r ONLY a part of nature) that breeds quality. The vast oil reserves of siberia that still lie unexplored r evidence enuf.
Thirdly, communism builds up a beaurocratic system that becomes impossible 2 penetrate. Again, the State is responsible, not the ppl who run it.
The biggest draw back of communism is the lack of freedom. The Have Nots remain Have Nots but even worse they lose the rite 2 complain. A society thats not free 2 smile is a society thats doomed 2 collapse
Prima Donna
Once we accept childcare as the fundamental guiding principle of any social fabric, we can start discussing the social instincts of human beings. Social instincts are different from mob psychology. There is a single dominating instinct that surpasses everything else that we do as humans. Preservation. More importantly preservation of self. All emotions we feel can be proved to be direct consequences of ‘self preservation’. Preservation in strictly biological terms means continuation of life cycle and survival of an individual as well as the species.What interests me more than ‘preservation’ is ‘self’. So what is self? I don’t want to go deep into the philosophical interpretation of ‘self’.‘Self’ is an identity. But it need not mean an individual self. My definition of ‘self’ is made up of several concentric circles, each of which implying a different level of self. The outermost will be the entire human race. Starting from there we could come closer to the center through several rungs of the ladder – country, state, city, area, family. Many other such circles cannot be placed anywhere in the set of circles permanently. This circles can be shifted according to the priority set by the individual around whom the circles are drawn e.g. religion, cast, college, hobby groups, etc.What we practically do is simply dance across these identities as a function of time & circumstances. To elaborate more on this consider a simple case. A group of friends is enjoying drinks at a crowded bar. Member ‘A’ of the group is deep in conversation with member ‘B’. While ‘A’ & ‘B’ are talking about their respective lives, ‘A’ represents the primary identity of his ‘self’ & so does ‘B’. The differences or agreements ensuing through the discussion will be dealt with by both ‘A’ & ‘B’ at their own individual levels. However, the moment ‘A’ & ‘B’ start talking about say the colleges they went to, they cease being their primary ‘self’s & shift to a different level of ‘self’. This new ‘self’ for both ‘A’ & ‘B’ will be their colleges. If they belong to the same institution, they will unite their ‘self’s & vice versa. Birds of a kind flock together applies here too. Now imagine a third member ‘C’ of the same group gets into an argument with a complete stranger. Now ‘A’ & ‘B’ forget all about the previous identities they were representing. They are quickly off to a third identity – that of the whole group that is together.All such identities of ‘self’ exist everywhere, in everyone’s mind though we rarely notice them. In fact we don’t even bother to think if I talk as ‘me’ or as someone else. In truth it doesn’t take long for identities to take control of our mind.Two fundamental questions arise out of this synthesis of identities.1. Are the identity circles finite in number or they can extend to infinity?As long as there is something ‘outside’ the circle, the circle should be allowed to exist. Meaning: Extend the broadest identity mentioned above to a larger one. Say, country extended to continent. Of course we can represent our own continent. Extend it further to the world. We can represent the world too. Lets go from our family to the population of India, that of Asia, that of the world & finally the entire animal kingdom. Apparently the circles are too many to restrict. However, once we reach the universal identity of ‘self’ there is no further that we can go. My conclusion is that the circles are infinite in number but can only expand within a finite space.Clearly, the ‘self’s themselves are cramped & undergo a parallel struggle for existence. Why humans are always at loggerheads with so many things might be explained thus.2. Does the identity of an individual form a circle or does it lie at the ‘center’ of all other circles?This really is a tricky question. Putting it right at the center means that all other identities can at most revolve around it but cannot hold their own against it. I don’t think this holds true. People make compromise to ensure either a win-win situation or peace. Individual ‘self’ is sacrificed at such instances. It may not be put right at the center.However, if we make it a circle like the others, then what do we put at the center? What do all these identities revolve around? I have come across a dead end. But I think the solution is not far away. Well, what we need to do is put the foremost instinct of ‘self preservation’ bang in the center. All other ‘self’s including the individual identity will be circles around this center.
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