Interpreter of Maladies

Dev D - this one's for real !!

2009-02-19T11:11:00.002+05:30

For starters, I am not a huge Anurag Kashyap fan (I do read Passion for Cinema, yet...). I did not hate NO SMOKING - I thought it had all the makings of a genre breaker. What went wrong was probably choosing John to play the lead. Not using any offensive words, he is as wooden as the table on which my laptop rests as I type away to glory. He could have gone with an actor with a permanent anguish and it might have worked. I loved Black Friday - the music, the movie, the actors - perfecto. And I loved the story in Satya. I think AK goes wrong when he tries to balance sense with sensibility. Does not work !!

In Dev D, what works is that he gives two hoots to anyone and everyone. Censor - two hoots. Moral authorities - two hoots. Public - two hoots. Shahrukh - two hoots. That kind of attitude works like magic for a movie like this. You cannot, not show abuse and create a Dev D. For dummies, walking with a fake liquor bottle with your face powder and mascara shining through - aka Shahrukh - does not work !! Abhay is your "two hoots" personified. The man is 30+, yet has not done a single conventional hero movie, at least the kind of movie in which he gets the sexier girl at the end. Believes in defying convention and redefining it. So, that was a smart choice to make.

He has a story to direct, which has been grounded from the lofty ideals Sharat Babu planted it in. Not that there is anything wrong about Bengali literature, but it revels in being ethereal. Not the kind of thing, which works for me. The heart of the story is what most of us have been through, either in our own lives or have seen others living it. What works is that there is no repentance and full marks given to the intelligence of the audience. I loved the "main aa raha hoon", the mattress on the fields, the vodka with coke, the hotel tajmahal and the very foreigner looking Mrs. Chunni - trivial details like these which make the movie special. Which shows the director cared to look and analyze and add details, at all places where I, the humble audience in the backrow could watch it.

And how could I ignore Paro - Mahi Gill is fantastic as the headstrong "JAT"ni. The handpump scene was awesome - full marks there. And put that alongside the clothes washing masterpiece in Dev's room and you have my ideal heroine there. Someone who loves and loves like no one else does, but is not afraid to move on when life does. I like their last scene together - the conversation on the door. That's her moment perfecto, where she steals the scene, the show and the audience.

Kalki needs grooming. She has done well in scenes with Abhay but seems transfixed and wooden in the first half of her story. Guess she can play spicy better than shocked. But she has potential - best witnessed in the dirty talk on the phone, first encounter with Dev scenes.

Everything was just perfect till the momo scene and that's where I lost you Mr. Kashyap. Why did you choose a saccharine ending to such a gritty, grounded movie. Dev seems like a zombie in the mental hospital or some other worldly alien in the bathtub scene and I wondered then, were 3 hours becoming much too long for you - to choose that ending. That ending is perhaps the only blot in the movie. In that perfect perfect movie.

Music Magic

2008-04-14T09:37:00.002+05:30

It was Wednesday when browsing through the newspapers, a miniscule column caught my attention - about the BhaktiUtsav. I faintly remembered references to some such event last year, but could not relate. Went to the web and found that it was the festival of devotional music which attracts crooners from all over India and Pakistan - to praise the allmighty in their traditional style of music.
I saved up on the week then- to go to the fest on this Sunday.
I was apprehensive - maybe it would not be good - there were no big ads in the city - even the newspaper thing was more of the size of an obituary than an event. Nehru Park, where the event was to take place seemed all desolate too. No sign of a horde of cars, no banners - nothing. The gatekeeper informed us in an empathetic baritone, "Program ke liye aaye hain? Peeche se jaaiye". I frowned at "Programme", was I seriously about to jeopardize my really precious weekend for the mockery of some music fest.
So from "peeche se", I went and found this curtain of earthen lamps shadowing a display of marigold flower chains. Seems exotic, I thought. There was an imposing but simple stage and right ahead of the stage, there was place to sit on the ground. There were chairs too, for those who would dare not touch the ground below their feet. I sat and allowed myself to intake the ambience. The tall tree and under its fulsome branches, that harmony of light and sound. They started at dot 6.30 which was quite surprising from Delhi standards. But this was no Punjabi brouhaaa - in a balanced and melifluous voice, the presenter announced the agenda of the day and briefly what all was to pass.
It started with a Sanskrit Bhajan to Jagannath by Maheshwar Rao. I was busy interpreting the Bhajan for the first 5 minutes to an animated audience on the side. But then the staidness of the Bhajan forced me to close my eyes and sway with the mood. By the time the closing lines came, I was already transposed to another world. A couple of couplets later, Hariharan came to the stage. I realized the small park had become marginally more crowded - he was the star of the evening. But this was no star Hariharan (although there were moments when he did fall into the ambience of being filmy), this was the real Hariharan - soft, mushy and touching.
There were so many others which I can talk about - listening to Ramcharitmanas with so much heart in place, listening to why all my demons are only inside me- but let me leave the hints here. Scattered, so that next year, I go back again - no matter what is playing on my mind then - I will still find sanctuary and solace again.

Marriage, Consulting and much more

2008-03-31T16:19:00.004+05:30

It has been a gruelling six months since I have actually dropped in to write a word. I can give those meandering excuses about work and personal problems but I guess nothing answers it best than a post itself.
I was busy getting married. Life after marriage is difficult in an additional dimension - all by itself. Marriage blesses you with a partner who values you and keeps you secured but it also forcefully at first and benignly at the next, teaches you to take care of this other someone. The brain revolts and the heart tries to get around the problem but there is no solution in sight. You hate sharing almirahs, furniture, bathrooms. You even hate the fact that the other person never arranges things in the way you always do. That - according to me - is singlehandedly the biggest challenge of married life. Once you get past that, it is always easy to build a life together.
I always thought marriage would be a cakewalk. I had everything in place - the right guy, the long relationship, the amenable parents. The wedding hullaballoo was tolerable - I came pretty much unscathed out of all that jamboree. But, it is when the fineries are safely stocked in suitcases, the curtains are rolled up- that it all starts to sink in :)
Well, forgot the cribs of a newly married. I should talk about work. By far - the more interesting and enriching part of my life (as I would have you believe). Consulting is a monster in itself. It all starts with the promise of great work - which I did in leaps and bounds and then sinks to the mortaliest and clumsiest piece of work that remains on the face of the earth. Well, those are the labor pains of the lifecycle - you have to be a cocoon once (and for a long time) to finally attain that butterfly like stage (i.e. if you last long enough to see it)
I am so glad I am writing again. Maybe this is horrendous to read and sounds really frustrating at this time but I am sure it will take just that small bit of time before I come back.

Sayonara until then

Rising small town middle class

2007-08-29T13:59:00.000+05:30

This was the title of a special news feature Times Now did a few days back. This traces back its inspiration and origin to the increasing success of people from tier 2, 3 cities in singing competitions, sports and movies. Most small town middle class denizens like me would react in two ways to such a news feature - 1. Feel proud and pat our backs on what individuals such as us have achieved 2. Or feel that media is again doing what it does best - using a very small sample to predict a larger trend.
So what, if a Dhoni captains a 20-20 cricket team, a Poonam Yadav stands to win a singing competition or an Ankita (even with a broken and hoarse voice) is one of the favorites to win the third Indian Idol. What does the rise to glory of a Sania Mirza denotes? Is it actually a larger trend? Are the Kanpurs, Lucknows, Bareilys, Gunturs, Jodhpurs, Ahmedabads, Patnas and their similar cousins are on the steady path of conquest over their wealthier and well-to-do Delhis, Mumbais and such as. Even in the face of Euphoria, I beg to disagree. I would believe that fate of many like us have changed when things have changed fundamentally. Opening multiplexes in tier 2 cities and entry of hyper retail in smaller towns does not indicate an awakening of the small town middle class. It only means cashing out on the consumerist tendencies of the middle class. An awakened small town middle class should indicate something bigger. Are people in these cities better educated today? Do they have similar career opportunities? Have infrastructure and facilities got a facelift? Does it make any difference for a Delhite to shift to a Lucknow? Should he stop getting concerned about eve teasing, potholes on the road, bribery to get gas connections and phone lines and illegal construction around his house? I am not confusing social and political issues. I am merely denoting that the mentality of people in small cities is still the same. There has been no major change there. What is happening is a shrouding of the new by the old. So yes, there are potholes and stinking drains in your small town but you won't notice it coz there is a shining Big Bazar right on the same street which can actually blind you to the realities of the city itself.
What we need to question is how to connect the economic interests of the private sector with the developmental needs of the small cities? Why should we not place a liability on the private sector to target total development and not part out with our cash until they do so?
Until then, an Ankita after becoming Indian Idol will not go back to Kanpur. She will just settle down in a Mumbai/Delhi and bless her fortunes that she got an opportunity to walk out a long foregone place.

Airports and Airplanes

2007-08-03T23:43:00.000+05:30

Since I have had enough exposure of the two, I can qualify to be suitably accomplished to write this. Life in consulting is spend primarily in commuting. Whether it be commuting within cities or from the airport to the client site. I would have taken close to 25 flights in the last two months that I have been working. Here is a simple what works/what doesn't on the two major carriers:

Jet Airways
Nice staff - both the steward and stewardesses are sure of how to react to quirky enquiries of passengers. For example, if they run out of pillows and blankets, they will actually adjust the temperature of the AC to suit you !!
Food: I find the Jet food sumptious and healthy. Although it lacks variety !!
Comfort: Although the seats are no good at ergonomics, but the blanket and the pillow more than makes up for the poor seats. The blankets are worth a steal !!
Time: Jet has started faring poorly on this ever and ever again. They are hardly on time anytime. Baggage collection is a mess and check in counters are becoming less informative day by day.

Kingfisher
Big plus: On time !! The promise is lived up to the nth second. I have never sat on a Kingfisher flight that is more than 30 min late. The terminal arrangements and clearing on runways that they have ensured is quite awesome. Hats off, Vijay Mallya.
Food: Very innovative - giving a menu before serving the food. That's very nice. Makes you await the food.
Service: The airport luggage pickup service is quite impressive. They actually locate you, get your bags, make it run fast through screening and get you checked in, before you could count 10.
What does not work is poor blankets. Your airline is red but that does not really mean that you give red teddy bear felt blankets to someone who is traveling on business !! Some business sense is required there.

Airports are quite a different creature to talk about. So here is the lowdown:

1. Delhi: Messy, unorganized and too crowded for comfort. Is the government listening ?? Security check queues have been seen to extend out of the airport. Is this our national capital or what?

2. Mumbai: Ooh la la..what an airport. The new terminal rocks. I mean, it made me forget Frankfurt and Heathrow for a second. What they need to improve on the airport is the arrival section. Faster baggage collection and a little more maintenance on the arrival lounge will truly make it the best airport in the country.

3. Chennai: The less said the better it is. The loos hail from 19th century. The toilets leak. The place is so small that arrival and departure are arm's length away from each other. All airline counters are huddled like mom and pop stores on a narrow lane. The security is lip service..nothing more.

4. Kolkata: Would give it better points than Chennai and in some cases may be better than Delhi too. Why Kolkata scores is simple. The arrival lounge is big and spacious. It is also well maintained and airline counters are spread across the floor. Baggage collection could be improved a little and something could be done to make approach roads to the airport better and less congested.

I am sure, most of you would find this post a tiff boring but I don't blame you. It's my life that has become boring. Would try to spice up things real soon.

Back !!

2007-08-01T12:22:00.000+05:30

Its strange that I had stopped writing totally and completely. Specifically, when I relate to this small space online more than I do with anything else. So what have I done since the last post. Frankly speaking nothing much. When we talked last, it was April and I had just graduated. Its 1st August today. Significantly,

1. I have joined work. I work out of Gurgaon. Go to Mumbai sometime.
2. I have a place of my own in Gurgaon. Its a small flat. I share it with a collegemate and we have loads of fun together.
3. I spend the holidays wasting and whiling away time. I taught some MBA aspirants on communication and presence. Did some NGO work for an organization. But that's about it :)

All that I have is lots of update on is my job and the city of Mumbai. Its useless to write about Gurgaon..seriously. Will write something soooner and that's a promise.

On Graduating

2007-04-13T01:15:00.000+05:30

This is my second convocation. I thought the teary farewell I bid IIT Kanpur less than four years back would be the last time I would wear a black gown and a ceremonial cap. But then, the stars decreed and I chanced upon an MBA.

This convocation brought memories of the earlier one and nostalgia, although very limited. At the last convo, I was all of 21. I felt IIT was my home, the walls were my best friends and I had grown up there rather than at my home in the city. It was IIT that taught me that friends are for keeps and not everyone is in a mad race to beat you. It taught me to trust blindly, fall and learn from my mistakes. It taught me that sometimes teachers can treasure you as their best but you still cheat them. That and so much more. It was my playground and my school and I did not want to leave. Although I often visit Kanpur, I dont visit college. If I am quoting Mir Taqi Mir correctly (and this is lifted from one of Dalrymple books):

What matters if, O breeze!
If now has come the spring
When I have lost them both
The garden and my nest?

(Its so silly that I have to quote mir in english !! deplorable I know but I don't know Urdu so well and it would take me ages to find the original in Hindi..I know its desecrating and I repent !!)

So that was IIT.Full of young dreams. I had a close to paying nothing kind of job that I took up merely because I wanted to do a job that no one had done before. Two years after college, the heady romance was over and I moved to reality. There was money to be earned, loans to be paid. I wanted to afford those costly air travels and those fabulous dresses. So, what do you do. You do an MBA. Because that is the surefire ticket to money, if nothing else, this scrounge of money making attached to an MBA made it the worst kind of parasite to me. I was shy of telling people that I was going to do an MBA. I did not give a thought to my college and made fun of the whole thing. Even the fact that I cleared an exam to make it to the college. It was that whole bias that I was doing an MBA for the worst of all sins-the greed of money. When I quit my job, I was embarassed of leaving as I liked my work. Its just that the pay was below subsistence levels. At the MBA school, what struck me first was apathy. I was neutral. I hated the rooms. They were so small. And the weather. And the city. And I felt all the people that had amassed in that college had all come with that satanic wish of earning money. How pithy...how stupid.

The two years that went by taught me a lot. That MBA is not just about learning to earn money. It is also about a whole lot of learning. It also stands for some of the same things that IIT stands for. One can still find great teachers and build bonds with them. You can still find great friends although it becomes more difficult and real friends are few. And yes, there are few chances of falling and getting up. You got to be fast in a bschool. And yes, competition is way of life. Yet, I did find selfless happiness in more ways than one. Did things that I associated no value to and was yet happiest. An MBA is a grown up college. It does not make you senteemental but it makes you thinkimental and thats a great discovery too.

As I wore the black gown and a purple sash and put the square hat on my head, I looked up and laughed at myself. Sometimes, even the things you hate the most, have something good to give. The trick lies in going and discovering.

Why I chose to be a consultant

2007-04-13T00:22:00.000+05:30

An MBA arms you not only with a degree but a great reason to earn and justify it. I am not the one who would like to do a regular 9 to 5 job and try doubly hard at it coz I need dough to support myself. I like a job that comes with no hangovers. Something that I can do today and quit tomorrow with equal elane. But as reason be it, I was born neither a pauper nor a princess but in the Great Indian Middle Class whose big travail in life is to get a "descent" job, a "descent" husband and some other bare minimum decent stuff. So, I was close on the heels of an MBA degree by March 1 when it dawned on me that it was so ridiculously important to get a job. How else would I justify the money spent on my education over the years and the fact that I was still unmarried (I dont care but it is a seriously valid concern for many). More so I had to have a great job and not just any Tom Dick Harry Job. The story being that a job looked like the be all and end all of all my troubles.

I was split between finance and consulting on March 1 with a great proportion of the split reserved for the former. Finance was the money machine, something I did during my summer internship and something I felt I had a knack for. I was not too sure of it but it seemed challenging and my name as a banker sounded mystique to a great extent. But then, did I have the nerve to put in the long hours and endlessly romance with numbers. I needed fun in what I was doing and bankers seemed so removed from everything non serious or even remotely fun. I also wanted to meet people, talk a whole lot and obviously earn good cash to support my dream wardrobe and a dream home somewhere in France. So, it was confusion in all its grandeur. On the D day, which was March 10, I told myself (while hastily applying a half smudged lisptick to parched lips and putting compact to hide those dark circles from sleepless nites) that finance be it. As I went for my first interview and was put through grueling excel sheets, numbers, valuation and what not, I said my last prayers. A consulting interview post that was that great faceswash you pine for after a hot day spent shopping. I talked and talked to my heart's content, put some jargon, some brain behind cases and ultimately liked the people I had spent 3 hours with. To me, it felt, these would be good people to work with. So kaboom. I accepted the offer.

Its a good company to talk about and everyone will congratulate. Mom Dad will be happy. But primarily and most importantly, I can still write poetry, travel and write stories about people. I can stil amass books and turn an entrepreneur the day I feel bored with my job. All that is comforting but the dawning of the knowledge that I had
turned a consultant was huge. I was the one who made fun of the consulting jargons and there new fangled models and now I was turning one myself. Obviously it was embarassing but come to think of it, that is what suits me the best.

I, the gypsy kind and the not so intelligent kind. This is the safest choice. I wish not to regret. And until I do, I wish to enjoy the good times.

Graffiti

2007-01-21T22:11:00.000+05:30

I wrote this quite some time back. I guess it was a mix of remembering college and the pain of leaving Joka. Or maybe it was just old memories. Dont know what it was but when done, it looked pretty decent. So in total absence of any creative work since a long time, posting this (at least it gives me some time to come up with something originally creative)

LONG LIVE THE GRAFFITI

Even when I am gone away
My shadow lingers to this day
Through this scratching on the wall
I will stay a superstar

In this alley, on this road
Everyone will know my name
Coz’ it’s engraved on the wall
I am still a superstar

Memories, the haunting ones
Are written down on the classroom door
It has my names and those of my friends
Our nicks etched in the panel below
Those friends are spread across seven seas
Yet there was a time when this was our world
It’s to remember that time bygone
And those friends that I could never mourn
Coz’ my soul breathes among these walls
Out here, I am still a superstar

On the crossroad, by the lamp
I met that girl who lived my dream
On the bylane by the sea
She blew me my very first kiss
We wrote our names on the rundown tree
And a heart and an arrow, in between
I forgot her name but the graffiti reminds
Coz’ its still there, a little faded but alive

Memories live through these uneven prints
And the smudged ink from a broken pen
The nicks, the names, the hearts and the games
They all live here through GRAFFITI

Alvida

2006-11-29T13:30:00.000+05:30

Wrote after a long time....felt happy that the pen still works..not so great but things will look better after sometime (hopefully)

kehne ke bahut se zariye hain magar, kehna ho alvida tumhein to kaise kahein
honth khulte hain magar kaanp kar rah jaate hain, lafzon ko nikalne ki ijaazat kaise dein,

dehleez par tum kab talak rahoge khade, paanv bahar jo nikalo to hum koi baat kahein,
na tum mein hai itna jazbaa ki gam ko jazb karo, na main hi hoon khuda ki khud ko rok sakoon,
hawa ka shor hai bas beech apne, par main dhadkan ki har awaaz kaise gart karoon,
padhke saanson ko tumhari hairat mein hain meri saansein, kahin dil se nikal jaane ki na jurrat ye karein,

kehne ke bahut se zariye hain magar, kehna ho alvida tumhein to kaise kahein
honth khulte hain magar kaanp kar rah jaate hain, lafzon ko nikalne ki ijaazat kaise dein,

hain kai shokh wadiyon ke raaste aage, tum mujhe bhool bhi sakte ho wahan par jaakar
fir kyon kadam rok kar rah jaate ho, mujhse darte ho ya khud se, ya rahte ho hakeekat se dar kar
yahin dhoondho, tumhari ungaliyon ke hain nishaan yahin, kisi daali par kurede honge hum donon ke naam
inse poocho, ye kahein kaise tumse, nahi ye bol sakte to alvida fir kaise kahein

kehne ke bahut se zariye hain magar, kehna ho alvida tumhein to kaise kahein
honth khulte hain magar kaanp kar rah jaate hain, lafzon ko nikalne ki ijaazat kaise dein,

When old memories crop up

2006-11-28T18:36:00.000+05:30

What if you are going through a pile of old letters and discovered one that you wished you never did. There are people you meet and forget- who meant a lot to you when they were around, but differences, misunderstandings, took them away. Memories like this are not welcome to your mind as it has now made a new world of its own- sans those people. So what do you do..keep that letter back where it was? or try to search that person on orkut? or write a mail of "remember me"? Maybe write a verse..

Could we be friends again and wish we never split apart
Burn down the walls that we build over time
Hope for things to fall back in place
Never make the same mistake
Yet, from the mould of memories, can you siphon out the hate and the anger
the bickerings and the harsh words, that made you a complete stranger
would you trust me again, and confide in me
and would I leave myself in your hands, forever, safely
We will be friends, but distant ones
and I will hope I will never have to face you again
We will talk but keep the past out of it
and shirk if its brought up just for old times' sake
Is it worth picking up the split glass then..
I will hurt my fingers in the act again
and maybe it will make me fonder for you
but is it possible to forge shattered memories.
I can build up my hopes in understanding you
But will you really understand me
maybe you will laugh at my sentimental mumbo jumbo, and break the shards of memories
Yet I want to give you a chance, which I did not when we turned away
Because, who knows, you might still be writing such a verse at your end.

Music and me

2006-10-26T21:06:00.000+05:30

How many of us remember what is a Kajri, Chaiti, Dadara, Thumri, Dhrupad or Khayal. Our closest relation to classical music is-its tough to thing-nothing. Two days of sheer heaven was what I discovered this week. In a special Spic Macay program, I heard two of India's greatest vocalists-Rajan and Sajan Mishra and Girija Devi. I have heard Girija Devi before, when I was 18, unable to decipher or even feel the peace that music embodies. After all these years, music takes on a new meaning when I hear it. I can close my eyes and feel my ears getting filled with honey. And, the feeling is precious. While Rajan and Sajan Mishra sang in a rotund hall I sat mesmerized. Sure, we have cassettes, CDs to reproduce the music but to hear the purest chords of music in that beautiful setting..ah only if words could describe it. And what happens when you feel that the hall is less than 1/4th full. And then, in the middle of the melody people get up and walk out. I can realize the pain, the artist feels when his art is made to feel diminutive, ancient, dying. And, I am absolutely stunned. I don't blame the hall for being less than half full but if people do not appreciate music, they should have not been here at the first place. There is a thing called respect for the arts, I am assuming it does not exist now.
In Girija Devi's recital the pain was even more heartfelt. Seeing her, 78 years of age, barely crawling to the stage to sing for us-poor morons like us-who dont know what is it that we are losing-the only thing we can call our own-our heritage. I fear that our race would also end up being like the Americans who do not know of a culture-do not know of a history except politics. I fear, we will, slowly but embarassingly, lose all that we have and replace it with something totally mediocre-having turned into a wealthy nation but a mediocre society and futures of a cultureless society is very bleak. I was ashamed when Girija Devi said, "There are not many people in this hall and I do not mind that because having few but intent listeners is better than having many disintersted ones". And then, people walked out in between the concert. I wanted to scream, to stop them, but who am I. I cannot change a generation, institute a change, move mountains, turn history around. I am merely someone who is stuck between the new and old and really wanting not to make a choice.

Back again !!

2006-08-14T21:31:00.001+05:30

Change but no change...I missed the old template so bringing it back :)
Somehow her face is too pretty to ignore and plus Braveheart complained :) The man visits my blog once in a month...can't afford to invite his wrath for sure :)

Not much to write otherwise...just missing college...a little photo for commemoration

Tata..wud take time to write now !!

Why I didn't like OMKARA

2006-08-12T10:07:00.000+05:30

Omkara was one movie I had been waiting for. Being someone who appreciated and loved Vishal Bharadwaj's previous works, Omkara was the ultimate piece de resistance.
I had loved Maqbool-it was a stark take on the Mumbai underworld with the underpinnings of tragic Macbeth. So well conceptualized-whether it be the two cops masquerading as the three witches or the struggle for power amongst the underworld substituting for the battle de royale in Macbeth-it was such a treat to watch. I keep it very high-close to Ijaazat for the craft of film making. Then Makdi-with Shabana Azmi and the little actress Shweta-was delightful because of its simplicity. It reflected of a director who was sure not getting lost in gloss to forget what essentially fim making was about. The one movie of Vishal that I have not seen is the Blue Umbrella-still looking for a VCD.
So we come back to Omkara.
Omkara is a mammoth effort because,
a) it is set in the heartlands of U.P.- a setting that has its unique difficulties in portraying
b) it tries to work with commercial stars in an "artie" film subject
c) it works on a story that has been often translated into cinema but has never been really close to the bard's work
d) it battles with the percarious line between what is more important-commercial success or cinematic glory
And, the movie does not fail at least on some counts. Where it fails, you can empathize with the director, as to why he failed on that count in the first place. It tries to make a lifeless Vivek Oberoi act-no use-he is as wooden as he always is. It tries to make an actress like Kareena Kapoor act like a typical girl in the cowbelt. Not much use-considering her "Hamein to ji" looks more artificial than most stuff in the movie. She does look much better in the scene where Ajay kills her. Majorly coz she is not speaking and only has to act helpless.
Where Omkara fails and fails miserably is that its characters lack depth. You cannot make characters only with how foul is the language they use or with what eyes do they treat woman. Yes, those are characteristic of what UPites are known for but that is not all. The character that comes close is that of Konkana and to a certain extent, Saif. Konkana's role is beautiful with the ease with which it is portrayed. She gels so gracefully into her Indu that its a treat to watch. Who would ever guess that this woman is a Bengali, who is a TamBram one day (Mr. and Mrs. Iyer), a slick jounro the other (Page 3) and a hardcore UPite behanji (Omkara). Vivek's Kesu is spineless. You can actually laugh when he talks to his Billo (Bipasha) as it looks so much like Sathiya's Vivek rather than the uncouth Kesu, he is supposed to portray. In the middle of the film, one is actually forced to question: What did Omkara really see in Kesu to make him the liutenant in the first place. His is not a character actor role and he fails to live up to it. Extremely disappointing.
Ajay Devgan is a fine actor. I agree. In Omkara too, there are scenes in which he is so natural, so starkly himself. He is dark, brooding but very, very repetitive. I saw the same Ajay in Company. Not very different. The same half crooked smile minus the expletives maybe. But the same facial expressions. Has he stopped to experiment-I am forced to ask or are the experiments limited to washouts like Golmal for Godsake. He does not get into the character of Omkara but makes Omkara get into him which is fatal to the movie. His last few scenes (before the tragic end) are not well crafted and they look like a badly sketched end, mostly.
Saif, I should commend him on the performance. He has grown and grown so well as an actor. Look at Ek Hasina Thi and you could gauge that. This is a bigger challenge. More than being a pseude villain, he is now required to be an uncouth, uncivilized but intelligent villain. As reviewers have rightly said, he is required to portray the most difficult character in Shakespeare's plays. And he makes a valiant try. His expletived don't look forced. His jealousy does not look apparent. His chaemistry does not look frothy with Indu. And that's where he succeeds. It is one of the high point of the movie when he is not crowned the lieutenant and instead shouts Kesu's name from the temple top. His expression is not astonishment, its more of sympathizing with himself. Even in his debauchery, he empathizes with himself. Its beautiful and he has acted beautifully. Except the end, which might not be his fault. In the end, its mere facts and not emotions that we get to see. Saif's acceptance of his crime is a mere 2 second gesture. Not much depth, not at all.
Kareena, I wish not to waste words on her. Inspite on the non makeup look and the salwar kameez, she looks every bit as filmi as she really is. I do not for a second felt that she is as innocent and pure as she is portrayed to be. Although she is dressed mostly in white, there is that artificialness that takes away her purity that she is supposed to represent.
The movie has well shot scenes, specifically the marriage rituals are well depicted (the ubtan scene) and the old lady is amazing !! It does remind me of home, many a times. But no, not always. It takes away the purity of the feeling by mixing filmdom with reality.
I still love Maqbool and I still believe Vishal is a terrific director. And so, I will wait for him to write another epic, direct another film and take more KonkonaS and less KareenaS maybe.

CASTaway

2006-08-12T09:51:00.000+05:30

I do not have the copyright to that title as that's one of the many scribbles on a piece of limestone that I utterly want to get rid of. In a freak accident not much long back, I slipped over two stairs and dislocated an ankle bone.
Yes, it was two stairs.
And I did dislocate a bone.
How the hell...I have no idea. The sensible thing, according to me would have been to put a crepe bandage on the bone and let it self heal but the doc (as all docs are) was so damn excited to put a plaster on me that he paid no heed to all my logics about-self healing, "bone dislocation does not need a plaster", "there can't be muich damage by just falling over a couple of stairs".
Until the plaster, 'twas still ok. The nail in the coffin came when they gave me a couple of crutches to go with it-as if, the plaster wasn't trendy enough !! So, voila there I was. Suspended on the crutches and carrying the trendy plaster-I sure looked great !! I have had freak things happening to me in the past but believe me, nothing has been as freaky as this. As friends visit (and incidentally also get chocolates for me) and scribble graffiti on "it", I lie down and dream of the leg-happy and active life I once lived. God, get this plaster off, before I start peeling it myself !!

Are we impatient...really?

2006-08-05T22:06:00.000+05:30

Few weeks back, at a sparsely filled auditorium, I heard a teacher telling me about the fallacies of my generation. He said that he only had one complain from the gen next..they are in too much hurry. They can't wait for results or for efforts to materialize. They feel that makes them proactive. They feel that it increases the speed of implementation but what it does infact is stops them from evaluating all round perspectives. It struck chord with me and it reminded me of all those times when I had hurriedly pressed for results, solutions, answers. I had not waited, not encompassed the length and breadth of the problem before jumping the gun.
I saw it in so many things then. The way we react to issues now. Yes, we are proactive but are we also missing the point alltogether. The way our generation has reacted to issues like reservation or the pesticides in cola issue, for example. The attitude has seeped in everywhere. Majorly, the media which does not waste even a minute before reporting, reacting and blowing up things into issues. Was it not a much safer and tolerant world a few years back when we understood and talked to each other instead of debating and engaging into a diatribe without wasting a moment.
I see the attitude in my college, among my juniors, who profess to not stand by things without even feeling the whole of it. They form opinions without even giving the issue a chance or the people, for that matter of fact. It is diabolical, the whole of it. Do we just want a few moments of glory, a moment in the sun to prove ourselves. Have we lost any mettle of our own or have we lost patience, basically.

Just my luck

2006-07-11T21:41:00.000+05:30

I was never a big believer in luck. Good or bad. I believed in people, myself, hard work and the "tit for tat" theory. All this was until I met Mr. Bad Luck. In the US, our meeting wasn't at the best of times. And I wish I had more to say to him rather than "what Bad Luck" from time to time. And those three four weeks of sheer Bad Luck made me come face to face with this big mysterious word called Luck. Is my luck good? Or its that of an average person? Is it predecided, what would happen to me in future? Is it written somewhere between the lines on my palm? And if it is so, do I want to know it?
What if I knew where I would be 10 years from now? The blue eyed prince of my dreams would marry someone else. The big fat paycheck job I have been so proud of would be stolen away from me. So many What ifs. And what if I knew I will be the happiest person on earth? Would I still resist the temptation of knowing it? Why should one not know the future? Is it because it reduces your effort function in the present day or it takes away your motivation to even try for something better.
I have been trying to tackle this question since sometime and yet haven't got an answer. There is this funny movie on the same theme starring Lindsay Lohan that I saw back in the US. It talks about a woman who has this great luck before she meets someone and loses it all. Funny story and pretty naive movie. But it still makes me think deeper into the question of future and all its ramifications. What if I knew?

My 2 words on rejection

2006-07-05T21:14:00.000+05:30

Well. I thought I will write this sooner or later. But wanted to come out of the hangover first. Rejection is a nasty thing. More so when you have been ultra sure of yourself and it hits you right in the face. I have been a lucky individual. I have been able to get things without much murky ditches to cross. I thought it was a pattern and got comfortable. What happened this summer is enough to shake my high headedness at least. It is kind of a reality check though. I was afraid I would not be able to handle it and the reaction early on was that of breakdown. It seemed I was blaming myself and drowning in self guilt. For a day or two it seemed all eyes were fixated on me. Everyone was questioning me, asking me for reasons, explanations. I wanted to run away to people who know me the most. But then that would be cowardice and no, I did not want to be coward, not yet.

Looking back two weeks, it seems all happens for some purpose, some higher aim. Whatever happened to me was more because of myself so why was I blaming the world around me. I still have a happy life, friends who care, people to love, my parents to cherish. If not this, there will be better, bigger things in life. I should cross my fingers and attempt, not stall.

Its all in the mind.
I being great and you being nada...zilch
It is just a matter of you seeing me through rose colored glasses
and I seeing you through the gap between my fingers
Mere reflections we are..
I must let you get away from me
coz then and then alone I will realize my diminutiveness
and you will realize that you can touch the sky...

Its time I let myself go. I know not what I may do.

I am scared of dreams

2006-06-27T21:05:00.000+05:30

Life's unfair. Don't you and I know.
Why do we see dreams and hope to hope.

The days when we crawled to see the sky.
You held my hand and I held yours tight.
But the heavens turned their eyes aside.
We were always the loners in our empty sky.

You tell me, this world ain't meant for us
that we should run from it, far away
and I should see my dreams in your dreamless eyes
and thats how life will be every day.

I want to differ. To tell you, I am a dreamer
But no more. I am scared of dreams.
I am scared they might never turn true.
And I will lose both, the dreams, and you.

Choice isn't mine. It's not even yours.
It's his choice what he wants us as.
As puppets in his hands or birds in his sky.
I will live, if he lets you survive.

Fate is cruel. Don't you and I know.
Why do we see dreams and hope to hope.

All hell broke loose

2006-06-13T12:13:00.000+05:30

Just when it seemed, I would be able to write a post on my happy USA stay story, it happened. I lost my passport-the night before setting off for home. All I could feel was desperation, wanted to kill myself for doing such a blunder. Just a week back, the local cleaner had lost two of my suits and the passport neatly tucked in the breast pocket of one of the suits slipped away. The flight was at 9.20 pm the other day and all that went across my mind in the morning was that I got to go home today. It was also my final day at work so there were so many bbyes to be said. After hurrying through a final evaluation, I ran to the embassy, only to find to my utter surprise that a plethora of documental and paperwork needed to be done for anything substantial to happen. I never cry in public..being the strong girl I have always thought I was. But, at that time I broke down. Nothing was happening and I felt so alone and lost in a foreign country. Missed home, missed friends and missed my country. With hours of running and hopeless crying, I was at square one even at 2 pm on the day, with not even a morsel of food in my stomach over more than 20 hours. It was then that Lehman reached out and talked to the deputy consulate general. The IIT-IIM connection sprang to action and in a moment, the consulate became extra genial to me. With most documentation taken care of, I was granted the duplicate passport at 4 pm on the same day. I was so touched by the support of a company, I was only interning for. I was also amazed at the kind of empathy an organization can show for its people and how much the IIT-IIM tag counts. I was relieved and burdened by the kindness. Running to the airport in a hurry, I was overjoyed at the prospect of seeing home in less than 48 hours.

Then, the bad luck wheel again poked its head up. I could not board the British Aairways flight bcoz it passed thorugh London and I did not have a valid transit UK visa. All I could board was a direct flight to India. Learning of this news at the nth hour..crashed me. It was so depressing that night, carrying back my luggage from the airport back home, not being sure even how will I ever reach home. I called up Lehman again, requesting them to fix a flight for me. With such a short notice, all I could get was a business class seat on Continental the only non stop flight between US and India. I wasn't crazy about travelling business class, knowing pretty well that all I earned in the last two months was being spent on this airplane seat just because I wanted to get back home ASAP. The service was excellent and the dinner was marvellous. I asked for a pinot noire Red Wine to soothe my nerves and drank a bit too much of it. Was utterly drunk in a few hours and slumped into the extendible seat. Opened my eyes, close to the time the plane landed. Being back at home was relieving and I wished my bad luck period had ended. I could not afford another round of misfortunes. What a last week !!

The tourist in me-2

2006-06-08T17:58:00.000+05:30

Work again. And I am so not in the working mood. Its almost time to go home and I can feel the troubles of a new semester at business school knocking my head down. Between luncheons, dinners and breakfast meetings, I am slowly trying to wrap up my work and then gear up for a grilling flight back home.

Continuing the tourist update, I shan't miss talking about Niagara, the more tourist place to go. I wanted to see the falls because I had seen them in postcard photos and thought it would be great to see something so powerful and elegant by my own eyes. Niagara happens to be in New York-bet, you didn't know that-the state, I mean but it takes some 12 hours to just get to the place. Boarding the cheapest thing we could find on the internet, we finally set off on a sleepy Saturday morning. The thing that we bought on the net was a tourist tour done by a Chinese bus company-sounds shady !! I hate a bus tour simply coz it gives no time to you to o your own thing. You can't carry out your heart's will that is. But, at US of A, we did not find nething cheaper than this tour and finally succumbed to the cost benefit analysis.

The bus we boarded was full of INDIANS. Not for a moment would you feel homesick in that bus. It did have a few Chinese-the ratio would be 1:10 and even some Americans..!! The journey was a solid 12 hour haul with a break at a glass musician in the middle of nowhere. Corning Glass is the world's biggest glass making facility and the museum displayed history and facts abt glass. At best, it was okay. Didn't think twas nething great. It seemed to be more like an archway to the gift shop where Corning sells beautiful glass pieces priced in an outrageously insane fashion.

I bought a small tinkering bell. Thought it might be good just for kicks !! and a glass candle stand for a friend. I was so sleepy by the time we landed at Niagara that all I wanted was the comfort of a nice, comfy bed. But, the falls surprised me.
They are kinda the best thing I have seen in a long time. Set between a flange of mountains, the water falls from a majestic height over the rock bed on the surface. The force is so great that all one can see of the falls is a foamy mist unless you are really close. That makes picture shooting insanely tough. At night, as the sun set I heard and saw the waterfall. The noise being enough to mute one down. I saw the birds flying over the water back to the safety of their migratory hatching nests. And, then I felt homesick. :) maybe it was the birds or the fatigue, don't know.

After the night darshan of the falls, the guide did give us a comfy place to stay for the night. There, I slept like a baby. All fresh in the morning, I was famished. Ontario being a non-busy place like NY, no food joint was working at the unearthly hour of 7 am. Voila, what did we come across then. An Indian place, right in the middle of the Niagara falls hoopla. Wasn't I happy !! As me and the rest of the Indian crowd marched in, we temptingly looked up the menu and the whole Indian gourmet spread was there. Unfortunately the diner only served chola bhatura at that time.. so not much of a choice. But I think its stupid to complain. The Chinese people were fighting hard to adjust to the chola bhatura place. Some even ordered the Chola and were wondering what on earth it was supposed to be. Most of us had a good laugh at that !!!

The morning was booked for taking boat and sailing right under the falls. The MAID OF MIST as the trip the falls is fondly called is a journey to uncharted waters. Taking you directly under the American falls and then bang close the Canadian falls-it was the most awesome thing one can do. Looking at oneof nature's deightful paradises right in front of your nose was great !! Later in the evening we found out cranks and nooks to take snaps and were even able to catch glimpse of the rainbow that forms between the falls and the Canadian side. Coming back home- I was pleased. The Trip had not turned out to be as bad as I thought it will be, considering the cheap Chinatown bus and all that. And in the end I think I ended up enjoying more than I ever expected to.

Now to go back and look at some last minute stuff, reminders etc. Lets hope I don't forget anything.

The tourist in me-1

2006-06-01T16:58:00.000+05:30

Another one week and my summer sojourn would draw to an end. I have not been much of a tourist during the last two months but the little I have explored is worth sharing. The holidays are few and far between and not all weekends qualify as holidays-therefore much less room for recreational indulgences. The two trips I made outside the city were to Atlantic City and Niagra Falls. AC and Niagara are alike and apart in many respects and are the more "conventional" to visit places for a NY resident. Also had the chance to visit the famed Museums of NY - the history museum, modern arts etc. Did the obligatory Statue of Liberty tour too. The funniest part about the trips is the mix of people I come across at these places-around 50% is Chinese and the rest is Indians. Comparing it to the fact that the BRIC countries are just experiencing the high growth rate, salaries and higher living standards, the populace is slowly climbing the ladder and going GLOBAL.

AC is a city in New Jersey. It's single claim to fame maybe around 20 years back would have been the ocean it is situated next to. Its the farthest end of the Americas next to-you guessed it right-Atlantic Ocean. The new "hep" thing about AC is the casinos. It is supposedly the poor man's Vegas or the casino land of the east-crowded with a slew of casinos. Boarding a bus that was "supposedly" to take us to the city-we got marooned somewhere in between. The bus service is only marginally better in the US(maybe in terms of cleanliness) as compared to India and Greyhound which is the oldest bus company in the US is no good at "customer service". Bored and exhausted, we finally set foot on the casino city. Through the bus tour, I had seen people flipping through guides on poker, blackjack, How to get lucky with slot machines...can you really make money in a game of pure chance..was what I asked myself.

Since I am such a big water lover, I could not wait to see the ocean. But what we saw was a sore disappointment. The beach was dirty though the sea was strong, powerful and cleaner than average water bodies in India. As I stood there, watching the waves wash on my feet and wetting me, I longed for home. Only if I could swim and cross the seas and be at the place I love the most. When my day dream got over, we set off to the farther end of the beach. It was mostly deserted and there were people selling "POT", lovers nestling with each other and the likes. There sitting on a jutting reef, I closed my eyes and heard the wind and the ocean rushing through my head. It was great. Undoubtedly tha part about AC I enjoyed the most. As the sun set, we set out for our casino round. Donald Trump, the millionaire who hosts the Apprenticeruns this pricey casino called Trump Taj Mahal which is awkwardly designed to be some kind of cross between Indian, Arabic and some grotesque architecture. I have little idea about how conscious are architects of casinos on aesthetics but what I saw before me was some golden minarets and something that looked like Indian craft. Within this TAJ MAHAL were housed thousands of slot machines, roulette tables, black jack and poker experts. I stuck to slot machines as a) they eat up money slowly and b) they seemed easier to experiemnt with for a novice. Although I spend a couple of hours fiddling with the slot machines trying to get combination that can throw up some money for me but no good. All I got was "zilch". No regrets though, I never expected much. Tired from the slot machines, in the wee hours of night we set off back to home, sleeping and yawning.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
for travel enthusiasts:

way to reach: take the Greyound from NY - best connection to AC. They also have a special ticket that covers transport as well as gives some discount for casinos too. That is a must buy.

what to do: I would recommend the beach and not the casinos. There is also an old lighthouse within the city that overlooks the ocean. Must visit.

what to eat: there are a very few vegetarian choices available but the roadside pizza stores can cook up something veg if asked. Beer is quite cheap though and can be gien a try.

what to buy: souvenirs didn't look so good. So cant recommend much.
_____________________________________________________________________________________

updating about me

2006-05-20T03:34:00.000+05:30

I know I havent written in a long time. Wont say I havent had time but i ran out of creative juices for a while. I have been in the US for almost a month now and what a month it has been. I am at the tail end of my summer internship at NY these days and "the work" is the best part abt my US stay until now.

Work- Something I have really fallen in love with. Having been in the work grind before, I know how sick working life can be so it is good to feel refreshingly happy with a work that I enjoy. This, by far, is the most I have enjoyed working. Even if I dont end up working with this firm, I would still like to work in finance. It excited me to make money and deal with it.

US - mixed thoughts. Last time I was here, I hated it. Dallas was not the best places to be on earth but it was the aridity of the life that struck me the most. NY by far, is the most happening city on the planet and there is never a moment when I get bored of it. There are people milling all around, whenever I walk on the street and more than that there is life breathing everywhere. The weather is a sore point but then Cal is million times worst than this and beggars ain't any good choosers.

People- at the company, GREAT. Most people are as intelligent as they seem to be. They are great at their work and they are great to talk to. They mill a lot of money but have their heads still on their shoulders. I would love to be like some of them some day, as intelligent and as precise. So, all in all..great learning. Would have missed so much by not coming (if I would have decided to)

At home, well its my IIMC crowd. Don't want to cross political lines by saying a lot so comments reserved to a later date.

Nothing new to update more than this. Would be home by 11th. After a short stay at Hyderabad, would be at Cal again. Hoping to write something intermittently.

The visit to the Planetarium

2006-02-13T13:00:00.000+05:30

Its been close to an year and I have not seen the Birla Planetarium. Its 10 minutes from Masi's place-I still haven't seen it. On Saturday, when the client for whom I am doing this Non-Profit counsulting assignment failed me, I decided to go for a peek into Cal. A crowded bus brought me to Victoria (No I havent even been inside that)which alas, was closed for the day (it was just 5.05..the thing closes at 5..what bad luck). A small walk into the lateral gardens around Victoria brought me to the Birla Planetarium. Its a rotund and white building with a placard outlining the timings and languages for the presentations. I checked the watch-it was barely 5.30 but the show was Bangla. Heck, who cares, I told myself. I will just watch. Shelling out 20 bucks for the ticket, I walked inside a sparsely populated auditorium. Soon, lights were off. And then, it happened. A blanket of stars, just above my head appeared on the round surface. I watched-miraculously amazed. My eyes were wedded to the sight then and there. It might really sound funny but I have never seen stars shine so bright or felt so peaceful in darkness. In times such as ours, how many of us even have a terrace where you can lie down and look at stars. How many of us evne have the privilege to look at a clear, silent sky. I assume that was why the sight appeared so outstandingly pleasant to me. Sure, the announcer talked to us about the constellations, the planets, the galaxy and the milkyway. But I waited expectantly for the sky to turn starry again. I know the account might seem bizarre but it just seemed so naturally nice to me. It made me wonder why didn't I come here earlier sometime.

Up awake from slumber

2006-02-13T12:20:00.000+05:30

Was under hibernation for sometime. Doing nothing dramatically unusual..just the normal sleeping affair. Three stories to share:

1. The Calcutta Book Fair
2. The visit to the planetarium
3. Watched Park Avenue at last

To start with, the Book Fair. Calcutta is quite an elite city-though on surface you might now find any signs of the so called enlightenment, the city claims to possess, there are rich cultural underpinnings to the place. The Bengalis are a well read community and that impresses me coz' the land I come from has produced one of the best writers of the country but who reads them-who even remembers a Harivansh Bacchan or a Mahadavi Verma or a Jayshankar Prasad. Bengalis preserve their culture. For them a Satyajit Ray movie was a masterpiece as much in the yesteryear as today. The Calcutta Book Fair is also a strong symbolic display of this culture. After delaying the thought of marching upto Maidan in a bus-tram-metro combo, I finally took the leap on a hot, dry Saturday. The Book Fair-inspite of being one of the biggest events of the year for the Cal denizens, is severely unmanaged. After treading through a dustladen pathway where all types of vendors (yeah, you find people selling local denims outside a book fair !!) would appear from nowhere to block your way. After the long drwan struggle one manages to reach the ticket window which is btw...absolutely empty !! While I am wondering how on earth could this happen, I see a long queue and this is not JUST long, its as long as the whole stretch of the pavillion. So, the stranger in Neverland that I was, I joined the patient line. So Mr. Ghosh wants to move ahead of me because they have a crying child and Mrs. Banerjee pushes me unmercifully coz' of God alone knows what reason. Well, I finally reach the gates of the erstwhile Book Fair and well, I am amongst the small ignorant lots with a ticket. The rest straddle in with some or the other pass or on the pretext of being one of the organizer...I salute the Bangla Land. Inside, the stalls are crazily marked with numbers mostly in Hindi or tucked in some unforseen corner of the stall. I was looking for a number 391-My masi is the editor of a Hindi magazine which was being launched on the day of the book fair. I thought I would drop in and help her out. But, how on earth do I find the stall !! So I ask Mr. X who doesn't know Hindi/English or even symbol language. I ask Mr. Y- well he has no time. I go to the Helpdesk-they too (how coincidental) don't know a word of Hindi and English. Alice got lost in Bookland. So I walked and walked and walked and after getting lost zillion of times, reached the humble little stall of Hindi books in a bylane. Godsent sight-I saw Masi, then spent sometime with the small little Hindi speaking gathering which had come together for the launch of that rookie magazine.

I had a huge list of books to be bought in the book fair. There weren't any English books because as well known to most of us, English books are widely avaialable, no matter where you are. The big problem is with Hindi books-No one reads them though there is a small clutch of writers that still writes painstakingly. In the small stall that hosted Masi''s magazine, I began my book hunt. Well, what a joy it was. I wanted to buy all-from Safdar Hashmi to Rahi Masoom Raza; from Mannoo Bhandari to Ismat Chugtai; from Jayshankar Prashad to Bacchan. Bought 10 books-a myriad set ranging from Mohan Rakesh, Rahi Masoom Raza, Bhishm Sahni, Shrilal Shukla and Hazariprasad Dwivedi. Was too happy to even feel the pain in my legs or the dirt in my eyes. Sat down to talk to Masi then. Discovered some realities then-there are only 2 stalls of Hindi books in the fair. Seems surprising, shocking...no..very expected. Who buys Hindi Books these days? The Hindi teachers, the MA Phd students..who else...and why do we care...?

Me and Masi took a round of the Book Fair then. Trying to find the Bhartiya Jnanpith stall. Went all around the ground 2-3 times-all I saw were Bengali books, English books..even Spanish books/Australian books. What is happening to this country? Why do we carry the charade of having a national langauge when we can't even show a morsel of respect for it? Why do we still have prizes for best writings in Hindi/Sanskrit? Who cares for these dead languages? Few weeks back, I saw some ceremony commemorating the death anniversary of Harivansh Rai Bacchan. Heard Kavi Neeraj speak in the gathering. I saw the old age, the bent back and the pain of being a writer who does not know whom to write for. We praise Urdu. We go gaga over Ghazals. But how many of us go and buy the dust laden Hindi literature. A Harivansh Rai Bacchan is remembered as the father of a fimstar and not as a celebrated poet. He won't be happy if he is looking down from wherever he is.

Munching on these facts and some Muri, I straddled back to college. With my huge load of books and a heart heavy with the same sadness I felt when I went to buy Hindi books at a shop in Kanpur which closed due to dearth of buyers. Something needs to be done...what..I am still wondering.