taal se taal mila

If Gabbar Singh were to ever capture me, and Teja coming to the rescue was tied down hand and foot by Gabbar Singh's henchmen and put at gun-point, he would never ever have to flare his nostrils and shout at me, "Banno, in kutto ke saamne mat naachna." (Banno, don't dance before these dogs.)

For Gabbar Singh would himself clamber down from his high rock, put a shawl over my trembling body, untie Teja's bonds and tell Teja, "Teja-bhai, tum Banno-behn ko ghar le jaao. Hum ko koi naach-vaach nahin dekhna, Nahin dekhna naach-vaach hum ko." (Teja-brother, please take Banno-sister home. We don't want to see any dance. No dance we want to see.)

For a 10 second demonstration would have made it clear to him that Banno-style dancing goes like this: 1. Move right foot sideways. 2. Move torso to the right. 3. Lift right arm up. 4. Twist right hand. 5. Move left foot towards right foot. 6. Move torso to the left. 7. Lift left arm sideways. 8. Turn left hand round and round. 9. Stand still to listen to beat. 10. Catch it again and start motion in above sequence, now completely off-beat. Repeat ad-infinitum.

Is it any wonder then that anyone who can move arms, legs, shoulders, eyes, face, head, and other body parts in one continuous, rhythmic motion and stay with the beat, for any length of time mesmerizes me?

As if my own gracelessness were not enough, my ignorance about any form of classical Indian dance (or music) is shameful. So I am always hesitant to attend dance performances. But for once, I decided to diss the computer and the DVD player, and stretch my mind, if not my limbs a little.

The dance performances at the Bandra festival were meant for ignoramuses like me. The open air stage attracts a mixed crowd, street children, regular promenade walkers, young couples who've made their way up from the rocks by the sea after sun-down, friends and family supporting performers.

The performances by children from 2 NGO shelters, had me doing that thing I do to stop howling - gulp, gulp, close mouth, squeeze nostrils, stop breathing, face swelling up, getting red. Theirs was a dance I understood, because it was close to Banno-style dancing.

The three other presentations were Kathak, a duet of Bharatnatyam (performed by the male dancer) and Odissi (performed by his female partner), and a group of students performing Bharatnatyam. I was unable to capture the finer nuances of the performances, so I concentrated on watching the expressions, the costumes, the flowers in their hair, the sparkle of the jewellery.

And going on in my mind, "Why are they wearing black? It's showing the dirt. If she was wearing red and yellow, why is he wearing maroon? Her ghaghra is too stiff. It doesn't show me the play of her legs." And so on. Because of course, to me, commenting  is half the fun of watching anything.

What I also love doing during live performances is to watch the people who are watching. Some young boys  getting impatient. A little girl with dirty frock, matted hair and blond streaks. An old couple who really seemed to get it. Parents of the performers, whose eyes and cameras were focussed only on their kids.

There was also a school-principal type of MC who scolded all of us before and after the presentations.

Of course, going to Band Stand is never complete without shouting "Ee, ee, Shahrukh Khan's house." I almost never have to do that myself, because someone always gets in there before me. This time, it was Pu.

However, in my book, this is highly excusable, because just a few weeks ago, I met an old doctor who lives across Shahrukh Khan's house and he was pointing out of his window, going, "Ee, ee, Shahrukh Khan's house." And the old gentleman and his family have lived there for years before SRK.

After, a walk through Bandra, and then prawn curry-rice, fried surmai and fried bombil at Soul Fry.

Made me forget all my film woes, for sure. I was also quite pleased when I liked the same dances that Pu had liked, considering that she is studying dance since she was a child. Some hope for me, I say. And for Gabbar Singh.

i dress therefore i am ....

at Upperstall Blogs. My confused thoughts on 'purdah'.

it's been a long haul

'Khargosh' won 3 awards at the Osian festival this year - the Special Mention and the Audience Award and shared the NETPAC-FIPRESCI award.

Trisha at Tehelka wrote this.

two girls with hats

The worst thing you can do to a girl is saddle her with a sister early on in life. The sister is always going to be more beautiful or more intelligent or more virtuous or more cheerful or more obedient or wear better hats - none of which helps in the making of the confident, tough personality that one ought to be.

Because however rich or famous you become, one little bit of you always knows that your parents love your sister more than you do, which in my case, my mother pooh-poohs till date. And however old your sister becomes, she will always claim that she stuck to the safe and tested path because you were wild and rebellious enough for the entire family, which in my sister's case, I refuse to acknowledge now that we are both in our 40s. Though we took different paths to reach here, I find that we haven't wandered too far away from each other.

My sister and me, here we look happy enough in our hats.

But we spent all our growing up years fighting to the point of driving our mother to tears. It's only when we both got married and left home, that we came to realize what we mean to each other.

Sisters and hats feature largely in 'Holiday' (1938) by George Cukor. Read the rest of the review on Upperstall.

at home on Valentine's Day

Dhanno came back home and said, "I am very impressed with my friend Ish."

I said, "Why?"

She said, "Her friend Hit is gay. But Ish said he's her best friend."

I said, "So?"

Dhanno said, "But it's just that Ish is not even bothered by it. She takes it so normally."

I said, "Why shouldn't she?"

Dhanno said, "No reason. I don't mean to say being gay is wrong. But just that ... I mean, I've never known anyone who is gay."

I said, "Well, as you grow up, you will know more and more people who are gay."

Dhanno said, "Yes, but isn't it abnormal? I mean .."

I said, "No, it's not."

Dhanno said, "Yes, mom, even biology says that you have sexual organs to attract the opposite sex to be able to reproduce."

I said, "Whatever. But when a large proportion of people are homosexual, then how can that be abnormal?"

She said, "Hmm."

Then, she said, "I'm just so impressed with Ish. I mean she takes it so normally."

I said, "You are so fazed by this, because of all the gay characters you usually see on TV or film."

She said, "Come on, it's not that. I know they are not bad people."

I said, "No, it's not about good or bad. It's just that you see gay people on screen wearing strange clothes, walking and talking in strange ways. So, that's what you think they will be. But gay people look just like you and me."

She said, "That's true."

I said, "For instance, Rock Hudson. He was gay."

She said, "No...o...o.."

I said, "So what? Does that make him any less good-looking, charming, less of a star? Does it make you like him less?"

She said, "Why did you tell me? I like him so much. Now please don't tell me Leonardo Di Caprio is gay."

I said, "Why not?"

She said, "Because I like him."

I said, " So will you like him less if he is gay?"

She said, "Mama, I like him. As in like him. As in, when I am 21 and he is say, 45, and we meet, I could marry him."

I say, "Oh!"

She said, "Why did you tell me Rock Hudson is gay? I like him. I wanted to meet him."

I said, "But he is dead."

She said, "Oh no. Mama, how could you do this to me on Valentine's Day? First, you tell me he is gay, then that he is dead. Did you need to do that?"

Teja and I then threw names at her at random, saying "Oh, this one is gay, and that one is gay. And that one too. And that one is bisexual."

She hit back by saying that we were the most boring couple she knew, since we had no plans for Valentine's Day, then ignored us, and thought it was time for dinner.

By the way, don't miss checking out

The Stags in The Steam Room

Preview here

PS: Dhanno says I have my biology all wrong. It's not our sexual organs, but our secondary sexual characteristics like color of skin and hair, body odour, and voice and their differentiations between male and female that are meant to attract the opposite sex. It's back to the classroom for me.

if you have a horse, you can get by almost anywhere

Since it was agreed upon that the film in my last post was 'Azaad', Jo began to belt out 'Raju, chal Raju..' ignoring the flowers, the chandeliers and the glittering guests.




Speaking of horses, Cubbu said he saw a Dara Singh film where Dara Singh on a horse, called Chetak he thinks, races electricity. A girl on a hillock is connected to an electric wire from another hillock. As the villian switches on the current, Dara Singh and Chetak race against the electricity to reach the girl in time and cut the wire before she gets a shock. The failed electrical shock falls in a blue sparkly shower to the ground.

Sorry, I don't even know the right scientific terms for such phenomena.

Speaking of horses yet again, Cubbu said, Kantilal Shah who was famous for roping in big stars for major appearances in his B-grade films by promising them to finish their work in a day, got Dharmendra to appear in a film.

He shot Dharamji astride a horse, then a close shot of Dharamji simulating being on a horse. He cut the close shot with a shot of a girl writhing on a bed. He showed the film in Punjab to full houses. Some relative or friend in Punjab informed Dharmendra after which Dharamji and Sunny stripped Mr Shah and had him parade naked in Juhu. "That's a legendary story," Cubbu said.

Speaking of parading naked, Punjab-da-puttar said our FTII senior Mithun-da used to walk around naked at the Institute from Boy's Hostel to Main Gate which is pretty much the entire campus. "He had a beautiful body, and perhaps that is why Mrinal Sen cast him in 'Mrigayaa'", P-d-p said.

Well, for a bunch of 'Ai, Institute', as Rolly the producer taunts the scriptwriter for suggesting something remotely arty in 'Luck by Chance', and as industry-wallas have been traditionally happy to dismiss institute-wallas, we were full of industry gossip that day.

We were there to celebrate my batchmate, Resul's Oscar nomination for sound on 'Slumdog Millionaire'. Most of us were happy to drink, eat, and meet up with old and new friends, but there weren't too many enthusiastic about the film. I haven't seen it yet.

Googling around, am wondering if the Kanti Shah film with Dharmendra was 'Loha'? If it is the same Kanti Shah as in the Cubbu story?

Mithun-da appears in 'Loha' too!

While you are here, please go read my post 'ladies make inappropriate mistakes' at
Upperstall Blogs.

Lakshmi in pink

Lakshmi (Shabana Azmi) started well enough in 'Amar, Akbar, Anthony' (1977), enterprising, feisty, in bellbottoms. Luring eager, lecherous men into dark corners to be hit upon by her stepbrother (Ranjeet) and his goons. Turned out that she didn't really want to do this work. Her grandmother meanwhile protected a set of gold earrings meant for Lakshmi's wedding from her stepmother (Nadira), and seeing this, Inspector Amar (Vinod Khanna) was convinced that Lakhsmi was a good girl. Promptly, he invited her grandmother and her to live in his house, and promptly they agreed.

The next we see her, she is wrapped up in a sari, demure, picking Amar's washing from the clothesline, while he swings on a hammock, book in hand. She looks longingly at him, he sings of love, looking not at her, but at the sky. Though later, he does consent to sit back to back with her on the porch, while it rains outside.

The next we see her, she happens to be on the same road where her stepbrother is kidnapping Jenny (Parveen Babi). And like all true blue Hindi film heroines, she runs towards trouble and not away from it. She hides in the trunk, to be caught moments later by her smarter stepbrother.

The next we see her is as a reluctant bridesmaid to a reluctant bride Jenny.

And in the end again, demure in a sari, family photo time.

For a fortnight, the vision of that bridesmaid would not leave me. Every time I closed my eyes, I would see a woman in pink. Shocking pink. A pink gown, a pink train edged with white frills trailing behind her, a pink veil pinned on her head, with bunches of pink lace flowers on either ear.




She looks trapped, helpless, in a state of shock, very, very unhappy in her pink dress. She looks like a kid who has been told that the school bell is never going to ring again, and she will never be let out of the classroom. She looks like she is about to burst out crying like my brother Rolu on his first birthday, hot and scratchy in too-much-finery.

She has reason enough to cry. She's pitched against Parveen Babi who looks glamorous in whatever she wears, lemon yellow, or postbox red, with matching hats, handkerchiefs, purses and shoes. And Neetu Singh, who couldn't care less what she's wearing. Shararas and burqas are not a big deal for her, since she's even carried off checked shirts, high waisted polyster pants and square eyebrows with her bubbly charm.

I wondered how long I was to see this pink before my eyes. Until I saw blue.

Lily (Sonia Sahni) in 'Andaz' (1971). Now Sonia Sahni was a glamour icon for me in childhood, and I longed for the day I could wear dresses with holes in the unlikeliest places like her. Sadly, that ambition was fulfilled only once.

Anyway, so when she appeared at Badal's (Roopesh Kumar) party, wearing a gown made of blue Banarasi silk, I grinned with pleasure. The halter back was pretty tame, as also a small round hole on her belly. But what had my eyes popping out were the slits on both thighs that almost touched her waist. While she lurched around drunkenly and even cavorted brazenly on the floor, I went into super-protective Mom mode, wondering where are the shorts? Is she actually wearing a thong for this number? I hope she doesn't flash.

Badal however remains indifferent to her seductive charms, since he has 2 firangi babes on his arms, and even one firangi girl serving drinks, and several other firangi couples smooching around the room. Fed up of her throwing herself at him, he pushes her across the room.

However, the next morning when his pal Satish walks into his bedroom, as people in Hindi films usually do, Badal in bed, with a girl snugly ensconced on either side gives a super-quick glance under the blanket and asks: "Where's Lily?"

What? Or what?

I'm wondering what I made of this when I saw this otherwise sweet, family film at the age of 6.

But at least, the woman in blue has made the lady in pink go away.

i'm gonna 2-time

Flabbergasted by my comment on my last post 'Copy Chris, Paste Ghajini' that I quite liked 'Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi',

My brother Rolu called me and said accusingly: "So you liked 'Rab ne'?"

I hemmed and hawed and defended myself sheepishly: "Well, you know, we saw it on New Year's day, and it was sort of just right for an evening after a hangover, quiet and simple."

He said: "It was worse than 'Ghajini'."

I said: "No, 'Ghajini' was so violent. 'Rab ne' was not."

And Surinder Suri in his polyster checked shirts and polyster pants, with the goodness of a loving provider, reminded me of my father, and of course, I am a sucker for anyone who reminds me of my father, and I cried and cried lots.

And I knew that Taani would choose Suri, rather than Raj, as any girl with any sense would,

and I loved that moment between Bobby and Suri, when they are drinking and Bobby passes out, and Suri says wistfully, 'We were having so much fun'.

What to do? It really didn't matter to me that Suri was rather idiotic in his attempts to woo Taani with a lame makeover, because we are allowed to do idiotic things when we are in love,

and Hindi films are full of idiotic disguises anyway, which are such great fun.

And I just like SRK better than AK.

Rolu said: "Well then, we can ask Teja-bhai to shave off his mustache, and you can start having an affair with him."

Not a bad idea that.

1st January 2009

After 6 glasses of smooth red wine made in Nasik, bought in Goa, consumed in Malad,

and

a mainly-qawali night from our very own 'fairly talented when drunk' troupe

and

coming home

when one man was already jogging in Goregaon East, a woman in Saibaba Complex was feeding some stray dogs, and a man outside another gate was tying white rags around a couple of stray puppies to protect them from the cold,

and another man in a lungi, plastic bucket in hand, was on his way to finding a private corner for his morning ablutions on Western Express Highway,

and

before going to sleep, first packing up the leftovers of palak paneer, rajma, mutton curry and peas pulao, cooked for 25 people, and eaten by 10 to the capacity of 5, because everyone had stuffed themselves with liquids by 2 am,

I am not really at my scintillating best, so I shall content myself

with wishing all of you a Happy New Year

and excuse myself for all your posts that I have not read yet.

Maybe tomorrow my head won't be throbbing quite this much.

hardworking kids, lazy mom

Dhanno said yesterday: "After my Board exams, I'm going to take Time and put It in the mixie, and grind It, and take It out and throw It on the floor, then mop It up, and throw the mop in the dustbin. I'm going to waste and waste Time."

Her friend Shy said : "We'll just sit at the window and not even talk to each other, that is how much Time we will waste."

Poor kids, studying hard for their Std. X exams.

I meanwhile, continue to waste Time, gadding about unabashedly.

That is factually incorrect, the gadding about and the being unabashed. But I did so want to use those words.

I am charming :-)

This award is given to a blog that invests and believes in PROXIMITY – nearness in space, time and relationships! These blogs are exceedingly charming. These kind bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in prizes or self-aggrandizement. Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers! Deliver this award to eight bloggers who must choose eight more and include this cleverly-written text into the body of their award. 



Grasshopper gave me this award because she says I am "A fellow FTIIan, I feel closer to her as a fellow blogger than I ever did before." And I feel the same way about her.

It's strange how many people I feel that way about. I've known them ever so long, and yet, feel closer to them now as fellow bloggers. And so I pass on this award to ..


1. Space Bar - She takes me into realms which I'd conveniently avoid if left to myself. Like poetry.

2. Sur - She is a next door neighbor whom I hardly ever see. But Sanah and she make me relive those early years with Dhanno.

3. Paro - I always thought she was a little formidable. But as it turns out, I like her.


Then, there are the people I've never met. But want to, some day, in this life.


4. Memsaab - She has an amazing taste in films, actors, directors, costumes, sets. That is to say, she has a taste that absolutely matches mine! She reminds me of all those childhood days, those dingy theatres and the magic of those films.


5. Beth - She differs. But she has strong opinions. And she's fun.


And then there are those who astound me with the power of their writing and their imagination. I'd like to meet them one day too. But I'd probably be a little shy around them.


6. Indeterminacy - His is a blog you simply can't ignore. Fabulous stories accompanying pictures sent to him by friends.


7. Madeleine - She's become really busy with her online magazine, Greenbeard. So her blog is rather neglected. I miss her.

8. Stan Johns - His blog, Half Dentist, is quirky and obscure and leaves so much unsaid, and I love it.

And though I've run out of my quota of awards, I cannot leave out

9. Dipali - She writes of home, kids, dogs, holidays and life. And I feel as if I've grown up knowing her.

10. Shweta - I love the name of her blog, Apni East India Company. And I like her film reviews.

last Sunday

Spent 1050/- rupees on 7 tickets for 'Fashion'.
20/- for parking.
Say a 50/- on petrol
300/- on popcorn and colas.
5/- odd rupees on Dispirin for everyone in the evening. Because all of us came back grumpy, with headaches. Having missed our afternoon siesta. Which the  scrumptious Parsi lunch at Dorabjees deserved much, much more than it did a dose of 'realistic cinema'.

It was just that it had been almost 3 weeks since we went to a theater.

Dhanno, who's 15 and could be 18, has been walking into adult films with us occasionally, when Teja and I deem fit to ignore the censors. OK, I don't see how 'Music and Lyrics' with Drew Barrymore and Hugh Grant rates an 'A' certificate, and 'Tashan' or 'Neil & Nikki' rates a U/A. So, I'd rather trust our own judgment.

But the Pune multiplex was packed with kids. Golu, who's 11 and could be 8 walked in easily, as did a lot of other boys his age. And of course, he was bored silly.

Later, he said: "If it (i.e. the film) was a man, I would have kicked it hard."

Ghostbusters

The other day, at the fag-end of a party, with only 8 or 10 of us still around at 3 in the morning, conversation turned from Vipassana, meditation and prayer to corpses and ghosts. Don't ask me how.

Our hostess who lives alone, was a bit annoyed. We made a second start. Talk of food and recipes slid quickly down to corpses and cannibalism. Play-school level lavatory jokes too went the same way.

The men at 4 am were quite willing to leave our gentle hostess with the stench of decaying flesh and go off. They were drunk enough to fall off to sleep the minute they reached home.

But I know well how horror strikes in the early hours of the morning. I insisted we talk some more, of nicer things before we left. This time we tried films, and everyone sobered down, recalled to their professional selves.

Though we left behind a mass of dishes, dirty glasses and cigarette butts when we did say our goodbyes, I'm pretty sure we didn't leave any ghosts behind, thanks to  the Magic of The Movies.

the rabbit and the raft

P-Bapu had a few preview screenings of his film 'Khargosh'. Teja has shot the film. A lot of times at private screenings, people make polite noises and slink off quietly. While we may hold forth censoriously on big-budget films on our blogs, all of us are too well aware of the difficulties of making films on low budgets, lower than The Star's bath water budget in the Alps (only Evian, good for the skin), to make smart aleck remarks after a trial show.

But after 'Khargosh', a lot of the people wanted to hang around for a while, chatting, making occasional remarks about the film as it sank into their consciousness. Some people grouped up and left together to drink away the evening, and presumably talked of the film amongst themselves. A little bit, at least, one hopes.

A lot of the audience at all the 3 screenings was from FTII. I, being a two-pice member of Khargosh's unit, doing what I love best, making wise-woman comments on other people's work, hung around at all the screenings. Watching FTII mates before and after the film, I thought this is what brings out the best in all of us. Going to the movies.

We may argue in the most pedantic way about the smallest issues on our wisdomtree mail group. We may run each other down malevolently when we are working together. We may get most nostalgic only about our drinking bouts and our subsequent brawls, passing them by word of mouth from year to year, as the stuff of legends. (Witness Tanmay's film 'I love the friends I have gathered here on this thin raft' - A tongue in cheek look at the FTII fraternity at the Wisdom Tree Film Festival)

But we are all shining faces and solemn grins when we go in to watch a film. That moment when the auditorium lights go off, and the screen lights up, is the moment we all forget the frustrations of working in Bumm-Bumm-Bhole-Land, the anxieties about our career paths, the middle-of-the-night musings on whether we should not have listened to our parents and become bankers, IT professionals, NASA scientists, architects, doctors, therapeutic  masseuses or whatever else but filmmakers.

It's at a screening we realize we are mates, after all. And our work matters. And our opinions matter. Even if they piss off everyone else.

OK, this includes not only friends from FTII, but everyone by default, who loves the movies. Anyone who cannot watch a film without analyzing it, criticizing it, taking it to pieces and putting it back together. Who cannot watch a film without a 1000 spoken and unspoken ideas on How One Would Have Handled That.

I know what I did last week

Was thrown over the edge of the world wide web by my internet service provider. A terrible week when I realized that I simply needed to blog everyday, compared to my average of two blogs a week in a good week.

Around 50 calls to the call centre, service centre and even the head office. Each call picked up by a different person. Explaining the case history each time. And getting a similar response from each person. 2 minutes, 2 hours, by noon, by evening, first thing tomorrow morning.

Someone finally realized 2 days ago that there was a problem with the modem. I've been given a temporary demo modem this evening which works ever so slowly. No fun at all.

Right now, I have a house full of kids. Dhanno's 15th birthday party. 23 kids. I've cooked biryani - chicken and vegetable for around 50 people I think.

So will post in more detail next week. If I'm not thrown off again. And we've washed all the dishes.

All you people out there, please call.

Dhanno goes through my cell phone and says: "The last message you sent someone was 2 days ago."

I say: "So?"

Dhanno says: "I suppose when you are old, you can't just send messages to people like 'Hey, how you doing?' "

I say: "Why not?"

Dhanno says: "People might think you have no work."

I say: "It's not that, really. It's just that I have no friends I want to send messages to like that, everyday."

Dhanno says: "I feel so sad."

I say: "You don't have to feel sorry for me, just because I don't have people to text messages to."

Dhanno says: "I am feeling sorry for myself. What if I don't have a daughter like me, when I grow old? What will I do?"

I say: "So you think my life is pretty sad without you?"

Dhanno says: "Don't you think so? You write about it like that on your blog. You know, Life's punches, and all that."

I say: "That happens to everyone. Things go wrong some times. Doesn't mean your life is sad."

Dhanno says: "Is that necessary?"

I say: "What?"

Dhanno says: "For things to go wrong?"

I say: "No, but they do. Sometimes. It's OK. It would be crazy if nothing went wrong ever, and I was as sweet at 43 as you are at 15."

So, now I know I am old, friendless and pathetic.

stranded

Don't we all look rather stuck?

Sometimes, life feel likes that, too.

Then, I guess, you just have to wait for the tides of the Brahmaputra to come rolling in.

Rolu and Polu go abroad. Alone. Without me.

Rolu and Polu were invited for a business meet to an island resort in the Phillipines.

I, suspicious as ever, say to Rolu: "What kind of a business meet is that? Why are they paying for your air ticket? And Polu's as well?"

I say: "You know, anyone can set up an impressive web page. Or get a journalist to write nice things about them. But will you call up a few people and check if this company really exists? That it's not a front?"

I say: "Empty all your bags, check them thoroughly and then re-pack them, before you come back. What if someone slips in a packet of drugs in your bag when you are not looking?"

I say: "What if the person you are going to meet asks you to bring back something for him? What are you going to say then, haan?"

Rolu says: "I won't accept anything unless I open the package and see what is inside."

I say: "Will you please not wander around at night? It's a strange place, after all. A strange country."

I say: "And don't drink too much. Better still, don't drink at all. If you have to drink, come back to your room and drink, OK?"

Dhanno says: "Rolu Mamu is not a kid, Mama."

I say: "Yes, I know."

He's taller than me, bigger than me. Presumably, stronger than me. But to me, he is still that puckered up, dark, ugly little bundle lying next to my mother, whom I was taken in to see at the hospital, as a little girl.

Teja, chivalrous as ever to the women folk in the family, says: "If you are so worried, ask him to go alone. Not take Polu. That way, if anything happens, he can leave, fast."

I say: "No, if anything happens, and he is alone, he'll panic. Polu is more careful."

I say: "Can you at least make a list of some references there? People you know. People you can call in case of an emergency."

So, duly fortified by more advice than they needed from me, Rolu and Polu left for the Phillipines, last week. And they will soon be back. Without having been drugged, robbed, or assaulted.

20 years ago, I would have packed my bag, and said: "Can I come too?"

But some pretty severe punches on the face by none other than Life, and having Dhanno, have made me into a real worrier. Oh well, the way my mind works, I can always get a job in TV news reporting.

Who says you can write your own destiny?

Every day I try to forget 'Aamir' and every day, the film seems to come up in discussion, the papers or as a TV spot. For over a week, I've been trying to tell myself, it's only a film. But try as I might, I cannot calm down the negative vibes it has evoked in me.

The fact that it is shot in Chor Bazar, Bhendi Bazar, Dongri, the areas that I grew up in, where I still have family, where my family still has family and friends, makes it difficult for me to view the film objectively. In my childhood, these areas were mohallahs, not ghettoes, as they have become now.

And I wonder, how did these traditional community enclaves become ghettoes? Is it due to overcrowding and a breakdown of infrastructure? Is it due to the takeover by communal and criminal elements? Or is it due to a changed perception of a community?

The director of 'Aamir' professes that the film is the story of a common person, and how easily a common man today can become a victim of elements beyond his control.

The dangerous part of the film is how every common man from Andheri to Dongri, in fact, seem to be part of the terrorist network, connected to Pakistan, actively a part of the terrorist nexus, or at least passively aware of it. From the taxi-driver at the airport to the seemingly friendly prostitute in the dingy lodge in Dongri, from restaurant owner to waiter to STD phone booth woman, from the manager of the lodge, petty gangsters to junk-yard workers, and countless other nameless, unidentified faces, they form a malevolent, hostile and inescapable trap for any innocent.

'Aamir' perpetrates the worst myths about Indian Muslims.

1. That most of them live in ghettoes.
2. That they live in filth and squalor.
3. That they do nothing to come out of it.
4. That they eat and butcher meat, and that enhances their inherent violence.
5. That they are more attached to the larger Islamic community rather than their own country.
6. That they get a huge amount of money from outside to fund their terrorist activities here.
7. That most of them are connected somehow with the terrorists or the underworld. Actively or passively.
8. That an outsider cannot say who or who may not be involved.
9. And of course, that anyone, who makes any attempt to get out of the larger community will still at the end be subsumed by it, becoming part of the terrorist nexus due to circumstance, or become a victim to it.

These are as absurd as the myths that all Gujaratis are right-wing Hindu fundamentalists, all Biharis are thieves and crooks, all Maharashtrians are lazy, unfriendly and insular, all Goans are amiable drunks and all Sikhs are either fools or trouble-makers.

The trouble with the film is that it is very well-shot. Anyone, who has anything at all to do with film-making in Mumbai will know how difficult it is to execute a shoot like that, given the crowds and traffic here.

That combined with the narrative form of a man chasing against time to save his loved ones, in fact, does not give any space for the protagonist Aamir, to be well-defined as a character. The one dialogue that makes his stand clear, that he believes that each person can make their own destiny, that they can pull themselves out of their circumstances, gets lost in the thrill of the chase. And of course, by the countering dialogue of The Bad Man who asks if this is the destiny (that is trying to save his family) is what he has chosen.

The Bad Man however gets enough time to repeat ad nauseam his stand on the Muslim issue, spending a lot of precious time haranguing Aamir about Islam, his responsibilities to the community, his infidelity in having a Hindu girl friend, not caring enough to send money to fund terrorist activities, and so on. To the extent, that it gets one wondering whether The Bad Man is more keen on teaching Aamir a fundamentalist lesson in Islam, or he wants him to get on with the job.

Was The Bad Man seriously hoping to convert Aamir to the terrorist cause, by kidnapping his family, having him wade through shit, not letting him drink water (a very un-Islamic thing to do, by the way, because not giving someone a glass of water when they ask for it, is tantamount to a sin in Muslim households), having him beaten up??

In the same vein, it is not clear why Aamir, an innocent and reluctant man, has to be emotionally blackmailed into putting a bomb in a bus, after a complicated, convoluted journey through the city, when it would be the easiest thing in the world for any one of The Bad Man's minions to walk into a crowded bus with a bomb, leave it there, and walk away, without any trace.

But of course, The Bad Man is a dark, bald, fat, meat-eating monster who shuns light, and sits in a dark room all day. He exudes menace when he holds up a kid, and then proceeds to beat up a toy monkey. So perhaps, one can expect only illogical planning from him.

Caves and churan

Since I feel a bit like this these days, am posting these pictures of me in Mawsmai cave. 19 May 08. Teja was photographing the cave, so you'll have to peer hard to find me.

I have to peer hard to find me, these days.

Why should anyone want to go traipsing through a cave? Rather squeezing through, crawling and groping through one. All I can say it cheered us all up immensely, apart from making us very hungry.

The cave's been lit up now with artificial light, which our friends hated. They said it was much more fun in the days when you had to find your way through, with a torch. Apart from the fact of course, that the lamps are fancy, plastic flowers, which don't "match" the caves, at all.

The path to the caves too has been paved, making the whole exercise like a walk through a public garden (see the step in the picture). Thankfully, the path in the caves is not paved.

What was on sale in the car park was bundles of cinnamon sticks, plucked straight from the trees (were they? or my fancy as always?). And 'churan' made out of 'bor'. Teja bought all the churan the lady had. I found the packets weeks later in his camera bag.

Oh, by the way, the full name of the Mawsmai cave is Mawsmai Nongthymmai Elaka Krem Pubon. Meghalaya. I saved up the entrance ticket. Ha!


Churan - a sour-sweet-salty powder, usually liked and licked by kids.
Bor - a sour-sweet berry.