Random Ruminations

As the year comes to an end, most of us go into a rewind mode, thinking over, analysing and compartmentalising the pluses/minuses, the highs, and the lows, of the year that was.

Well, introspection never did anyone any harm, and as I sit contemplating over the year gone by, I see a few hits, stray misses, but most importantly, I see a sense of wellbeing at this stage of life where contentment isn't a lone ranger; it has anxiety, expectations and disappointments for dubious company. I see people around me in a flurry; older generation bewildered by the spiralling times and trying hard to catch up, the middle-aged lot maturing like ripe wine yet fizzing and bursting at the seams, and the younger generation gung-ho, upbeat and sparkling. Life being viewed diametrically by each generation, eying the other suspiciously and sticking rigidly to its own perspective and ethos. The culture was never so seamless and inclusive yet paradoxically the thought processes border on inflexibility and closedown. 

One thing that I've been wanting to do for long is to thank all my friends, family, kin and everyone else who takes the time to read my sporadic posts and blog links. Your words of encouragement and effusive praise is highly motivating and acts as a catalyst to continue treading on this path. Quite a few aren't vocal publicly but appreciative in person and respecting it as a personal choice, I'll consider the number of views on my blog links as a correct representation of readership. I don't write to seek accolades but a pat on the back or a thumbs-up definitely causes an upsurge in the feel-good department. So, there!

Wishing everyone a happy, hearty and sanguine stride into the next year. May it offer the chance one needs to 'own it' and make it a watershed year.

Life has always been a great leveller; every joy and every pain is ephemeral. It is time to cut our losses, count the blessings and march into 2017 with hope, positivity and universal bonhomie.
Cheerio!

Zindagi decoded

Dear Zindagi,

It was nice meeting you on celluloid. You were undoubtedly a fine piece of art presenting a slice of life with its accompanying zits and zests. Your protagonist, a young professional girl Kaira -- Alia Bhatt in a stellar performance -- who has umpteen number of issues in her life was winsome and real. Behind her facade of a confident, modern and talented cinematographer laid a scared little girl with abandonment issues. It was her movie and she owned it beautifully, her fragile frame belying the tenacity and resoluteness in her personality.

SRK had lesser screen space but left a thumping impact with minimal words, the kind of role where his energy levels were contained and he hypnotised with his eyes. The doc-patient relationship was apparently easy-going and effortless although there were stray moments of underlying tension and vague anxiety.

The 5 major lessons we could glean from watching you are:

1. Visiting a psychiatrist doesn't make you a "psycho."
It's perfectly alright to have a plethora of issues in personal & professional life. Seeking an expert's help no longer has a stigma attached to it. (On a lighter note, maybe handsome shrinks help drive the blues away. Deep intense stares and pearls of wisdom spouted by them make life's complications seem as easy as solving nursery grade puzzles.)

2. Make peace with your past.
There is a line by SRK in the movie: 'Don't let your past blackmail your present to ruin a beautiful present.' Now don't we all know that, understand and agree with it. But, we rarely ever practice it. Some of us remain consumed by past grievances, letting it overpower our present. Acceptance of one's past, slaying the demons therein, and burying the emotional hatchets is what nudges us towards equanimity. And rightly so!

3. It's ok to have a failed relationship or two.
It's no big deal if things don't work out between you and your partner. The 'kursi' example given by SRK to prove his point isn't really to sanction promiscuity but to stop a girl from labelling herself according to society's double standards. Everyone deserves a second chance (or a third or fourth), to scour for that one person who walks the same path as him/her.

4.Our parents are earthly beings and not Santa Claus
They are real people with tangible fears and failures and are doing the best they can. Let's not judge them or crucify them for their failings. Holding grudges against parents is a recipe guaranteed for a lifetime of despair and misery.

5. Carpe-diem
Seize the moments! Live life as it comes, quirky and unexpected; put your best foot forward, falling isn't a big deal, it's not recouping after the fall to get up again and be ready for another bout which is our undoing. Our fears are our Achilles heel.

That's a lot of food for thought in 150 minutes to mull over. It was great meeting you Zindagi from another person's perspective.

Yours truly,
Mr. Imperfect & Ms. High Hopes.

CHISELED MEMORIES OF CHILDHOOD

Chiseled memories. ...

Of laughter and merry making,

Of family bonding and discussions,

Of eating together and gorging,

Of devouring delicacies and burping,

Of playing cards, ludo and carom, 

Of reading comics and amar chitra katha,

Of being glued to radio and singing loud,

Of festival gaiety n elaborate ceremonies,

Of fun with friends and neighbourhood shenanigans.

Chiseled memories of childhood; 

Of enjoying the simplicity of life,

Of being shielded from the hardships,

Of sibling affection and bonding,

Of parental love and cocoon,

Of pampering without being spoilt,

Of indulgence without arrogance, 

Of loving life and dreaming big,

Of self confidence and starry eyes,

Of academic high and accompanying accolades,

Of optimism and reverie.

Chiseled memories of childhood ;

Of crazy antics and wierd dress sense....

Of occasional tempers and frequent tantrums,

Of bantering, arguing and sulking,

Of making up, forgiving, and moving on,

Chiseled memories of childhood;.

Stick to the mind and warm the heart,

Glow the vacant corners and illuminate the soul,

Create harmony and tune your senses,

Chiseled memories of childhood;

Remain forever etched and eternally craved,

When you were little but your dreams were big,

When hope was your best buddy and skepticism still a stranger.

Chiseled memories of childhood;

Are locked inside and ingrained deeply, 

Completing you and blooming you, 

And keeping you forever young !

ADHM- Ae relationship hai complicated!

Ae relationship hai complicated! 

Not your regular love triangle as anticipated by eager fans, ADHM is a roller coaster ride of emotions: deep, profound, complicated and intense. 

The flimsy, slick gloss we see on screen in the overtly breezy, bindaas friendship cum budding romance between the lead pair Ranbir and Anushka, is pixie and cuteness overloaded. You start watching the movie with a goofy grin relishing the foot tapping numbers, funny one-liners, liberal sprinkling of hit dialogues and songs from cult romantic movies. There's a reference to throwback 80's kind kitschy music- peppy, popular but pedestrian. Nostalgia and novelty shake hands. The audience is hooked with the tender, classic familiarity, and the neoteric, badass brazenness which has typically become the alter ego of youngsters.

An hour into the movie, the easy-cheesy banters vanish and the 'mushkil' part unfolds elaborately. One starts feeling sorry for people who love the ones who aren't on the same wavelength as them. The second half is precariously handled with the director eager to stretch beyond his cushion zone and venture into the unchartered territory of knotty, tangled web of emotional turbulence. The conflict between love and friendship and whether they are mutually exclusive or prone to overlapping is depicted well enough but quite laboriously. The sense of déjà vu strikes one throughout the 150 odd minutes of the movie. So what's so different about it, what's the twist, you keep asking and the latter when it does arrive, fizzles out with a whimper. The ending lacks spontaneity and conviction and appears conveniently contrived, a negative for a melodrama. The high notes should be struck right at the end.

Ranbir and Anushka outshine each other performance wise. They rise spectacularly above the script and impart a pathos desperately needed for a movie which is otherwise an expression of celebration of love in its multifaceted forms.

Ranbir is the finest actor of this generation and has a barrage of emoting techniques in his repertoire. For those drawing parallels with his other flicks on unrequited love, I see this one on a totally different tangent. He isn't his regular confused guy unsure about his feelings for his lady love. In ADHM, his character is pretty certain about his 'dil' and where it goes, ie. to Anushka. The ensuing 'mushkilein' ( Fawad as Anushka's chosen one and Aish as Ranbir's consolation prize) which arise due to this are what lead the story forward.

Anushka has to be the bravest female actor to let go of her crowning glory and shoot uninhibited in scenes which made the audience gasp out loud due to shock, sympathy, and an embarrassed applause later on.

Aishwarya Rai's gorgeous appearance lends no value addition to the movie. She with her pancaked beauty, and fabricated, studied expressions, falls flat in front of natural born lead actors. Oozing glamour and good looks, Aish does break the cougar taboo (younger man and older woman) in India without batting an eyelid (heavily eyelined as it may be).

The 'fassad ki jad', Fawad khan is eye candy in a grizzly kind of way. Apart from him, there is a spate of guest appearances by the director's good friends and wannabee good friends.

An assorted Diwali hamper, ADHM has some exotic sweets, some desi savouries, a few firecrackers and a customised greeting card bellowing "It's complicated!"
But hey, where's my coffee, Karan?

Verdict- Watch it for Ranbir and the songs! Both outstanding.

Well-played, Captain Cool!

M.S.Dhoni- An Untold Story, tells as much about India's most successful cricket captain as it does about the triumph of talent and grit against all odds. I read that it's a fanboy account and hence expected a gushing anthem, saccharine sweet and superficial. What I got served was a smooth concoction of sweet, savoury and bitter, blended to perfection and served well in a custom-made glass . The director Neeraj Pandey lives upto his reputation of a deft story teller. Anything less, and the audience would have felt short-changed.

Sushant singh Rajput gives a sterling performance as Dhoni. He internalises Dhoni's mannerisms and body language yet lends his individuality to the persona.

We usually expect to watch and laud biopics of legends or stalwarts gone by but Dhoni is a contemporary celebrity and yet lends well to have a celluloid tribute devoted to him. The fact that he had a credible lifestory, of an archetypal small town boy making it big in life after a series of ordeals, will always find ample takers amongst the audience.

The power of ensemble cast is immensely underrated in Indian cinema. There's an extremely competent second line of actors performing as supporting cast who are carving a niche for themselves. Kumud misra, Rajesh Sharma, and the guys who played Dhoni's friends in the movie are all top notch and pitch in perfectly. Even the love interests, with miniscule screen time, blend in well enough.
Indian parents' fixation with kids' studies and landing a white-collar job is highlighted well as also their disdain for prefering sports over studies and/or the pursuance of a career in it.

The only lacuna is the length which at over 3 hours tests your perseverance at times. But nitpicking apart, we need similar ones on other living legends like Amitabh and Sachin etc, men who enjoy cult status despite being lessons in humility.

Humble beginners who propel into the stratosphere of superstardom are often revered as demi-Gods, possibly because the common man sees his reflection in them. And feels the connection.

Establishing that connection is the key to success in all forms of art and Dhoni, the man and the movie, strike the requisite score.

Well-played, Captain Cool!

Need of the hour

 Disappointed with Newshour's flawed debate (not really an avid watcher of this 'who shouts the loudest' program) yesterday night. Why does a leading news channel feel the compulsion to call a bunch of non entities on primetime to debate the reasons why the Pakistani artists working in India have not criticised the terrorist attacks at Pathankot and Uri army bases ?

Why do we expect them to? Why do we need them to? Why do we crave support from them for upholding our national honour? Unlike Orlando shootings, Paris attacks or Peshawar blasts (where civilian lives were lost and Pak artists vocally lent their support and sympathy), the Uri attacks involved the loss of Indian soldiers. Are we so naive that we expect Pakistani citizens to express any sympathy for Indian soldiers or army at any level, forget on a public platform??

Flawed debates and fallacious arguments mark this raging non-issue. Ban them, boycott them, unfriend them, do whatever it takes to appease your fired up patriotism but do it as a measure of solidarity with the country's current positioning vis-a-vis its perennial 'pain in the neck' of a neighbour. Certainly not as a matter of self pride or the country's pride which is too precious and sacred to hinge on the petty matter of testing the loyalty or the lack of it, of a bunch of artists (nationality notwithstanding) partaking in our pluralistic and accomodating entertainment industry.

Graver issues and more relevant matters need our concern. The upbeat mood in the country is comprehensible but there's a lot more at stake here than merely the euphoria felt at defeating Pak in a world cup cricket match. Time to stop equating art and cricket and the frivolity attached therein, with the pertinent, larger scheme of things and the imminent dangers looming large.

Let the Men in Control (army and government) take the call. Let's not expect a potboiler out of them. We are not inside a 70 mm theatre waiting for a blockbuster to unfold. This is real and the stakes are higher too.

Being realistic, and not theatrical, is therefore the need of the hour.

Arnab Goswami, that should rightly be the 'news of the hour'.

PINK-- Colour Me Not!

I got splashed with a potent colour spray, watching the spectrum of 'Pink' because belying its name, there was nothing soft, sweet or tender about it. It infact made me see red at the obvious gender prejudices and prevalent stereotypes which brand women into labels and categories.

For 2 hours I got infused with the myriad hues of our kaleidoscopic society; a society in which women are either portrayed as red harlots or as symbols of pristine white virtuosity. Where the jaundiced yellow perspective of masses eclipse the lush green vivacity of young women. Where the skewed brown heads cast dubious grey shadows over a woman's character.

There's no fiery feminism in Pink, just a solid, bold splash of No-nonsense. No wimpish or cowed-down, muted exposition of the anamolies in gender biases existing in society.Only a clear mirror reflecting the ugliness marking the false celebration of Feminism.

The message that comes out pronounced and perfectly pitched is loud and clear,

COLOUR ME NOT,

For Am no shrinking violet, or a wilting rose,

Pretty as Pink,Or,

Strong as Steely grey,

Dewy Daisy or Crazy Crimson;

No epithet does me justice,

No labels do me credit,

Will not defend myself to a Purplish hoarse,

For my life isn't yours to rule.
I'm the artist of my life's canvas,

And I paint what i wish it to be!