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.

Copy Chris, Paste Ghajini

Teja decided to take Christopher Nolan with us to see 'Ghajini'.

I said: "Is that a good idea?"

Teja said: "Well, it's a copy of his film, so ... "

I said: "Yes but, do we have to be the ones to tell him?"

Teja shrugged: "It's too late now. I have already asked him."

I said: "Then you'd better sit in the middle. I'd like some distance between us when he starts getting angry."

A long note on short term memory after the opening credits totally went past Chris who was still shuffling around in his seat, excited at being in an Indian cinema house.

The opening scene with a computer graphic map of the brain, and a medical college lecture that went "The brain is the king of all organs. The brain controls all the other organs" invited a small snort from him.

Medical student Sunita finds a file on Sanjay Singhania. She pretends interest in his condition of short term memory but actually she thinks he's cute. Her professor rightly judges that and asks her to stay away as SS is a police case. 'But, but ... ', she says. He glares at her, she looks down meekly. She wonders what SS is doing right now.

SS was on a killing spree.
He took out his Polaroid, Chris gasped.
SS made notes, Chris stopped breathing.
SS went home, Chris made a small gurgling sound when he saw the maps on the wall.
SS went to the bathroom, and a note asked him to remove his T-shirt. His 6 pack body was revealed with tattoos all over it.

 

* Drawing from 'The Star' series by Teja 

SS's eyes popped out, and he made growling animal sounds. Chris's eyes popped out, and he made growling animal sounds.

He flung himself out of the chair and stomped out. Teja's tub of popcorn was scattered all over the floor.

I hissed: "Does he know that cost 65 rupees?"

Teja remonstrated: "It's not a huge amount for him. And he's angry right now, Banno."

I said: "I don't care. Go get me more popcorn. And get him to pay for it, if you can."

Teja found Chris stalking before the uniformed boys lined up before him, in their uniform 'Ghajini' haircuts.

"What's with this haircut?", he was saying. "Do you know my film is about memory and how it plays tricks on the best of us, and how it's the basis of the identity we create for ourselves, and who we are, and all that? What's this hair got to do with it?"

Teja calmed him down and said: "Haircuts are an important part of actors' performances here, Chris. They are crucial to the actor's interpretation of the character."

Teja led Chris back to his seat. I skulked in the furthest corner of mine, keeping the new tub of popcorn well beyond his reach. Chris was better behaved for the rest of the film though he continued firing questions at Teja every few minutes.

1. Chris: "Do ad agencies in your country work like this? With in-house models who get promoted to head model if they have rich imaginary boyfriends?"

Me: "I wish."

2. Chris: "There is no photo of Kalpana in SS's diary. Then how come the police officer who is reading the diary know what Kalpana looks like? How come when Sunita reads SS's diary, she too knows what Kalpana looks like?"

Teja: "Because Kalpana was a model. She did the Hamam soap ad. She was famous."

3. Chris: "Are those tattoos? They look like they have been written with permanent marker pens. No, they don't look like tattoos."

Teja: "They are meant to be tattoos. So tattoos they are."

4. Chris: "Why is this Ghajini character such a sidekick? Isn't he supposed to be the main villain?"

Teja: "He's the star's friend. And all the star needs is a sidekick. He doesn't need a powerful antagonist who may steal the show away from him. It's all about the star, Chris."

5. Chris: "Is this Sunita chick dumb? Which psychiatry student asks a patient - 'So what happened to you? Did you get hurt? Who hit you with a rod? Who killed your wife? So sad, no.'"

6. Chris: "Is this Sunita chick dumb? Instead of going to the police, she goes to Ghajini, has a look at his slimy self, and the 6 goons behind him, flourishing their knives and their knuckle-dusters, and says - 'Sir, I think I should warn you, this mad man SS is going to kill you.'"

7. Chris: "Is this Sunita chick dumb? When SS has had his tattoos wiped out and can hope to start a new life, she reminds him of Kalpana's murder, and provokes vengeance in his heart all over again?"

8. Chris: "Is this Sunita chick dumb? She leads SS to the villain's den and then says - 'Hey, I think we should come back another time. This is so not safe.'"

Teja: "Her brains have seriously been affected by studying very hard to get 97% in the Board exams so that she could get admission in medical college, and then listening to such illuminating lectures as 'the brain is the king', so forgive her, Chris."

9. Chris: "Is this Kalpana chick dumb? When confronted with Ghajini in the middle of the night who tells her that he has just cut 2 girls to pieces and will do so to anyone who threatens him, she answers him with - 'It is because of people like you that girls cannot go out of their houses. Who all should girls protect themselves from? Their teachers, their bosses?' Then she turns and walks away, and goes back home. And he lets her?"

10. Chris: "Is this Kalpana dumb? When her police informer tells her that Ghajini is going to kill her, and that his people are already in her house, she uses a power failure to go further into the house, rather than just leave from the door right behind her? She doesn't think to call or SMS anybody for help? Not the police? Not her innumerable friends? Not her boyfriend? And of course, like all the idiotic members of the audience who never switch off their cellphones, she doesn't think of doing that either."

Teja: "Chris, Kalpana is an angel. She helps people cross the street, and gives them street directions, and gets them jobs and such like. She has to die. And if to die, she has to be dumb, so be it. She is too good to live. She cannot, must not live. That's the rule, you see."

11. Chris: "Is the police informer dumb? Why does she wait for Kalpana to reach home before calling her?"

12. Chris: "Are the people in SS's employ dumb? When he was normal, a convoy of 4 BMWs accompanies him even when he goes to pee, and when he is ill, all they can manage is an ineffective, 'Why don't you come back home, Sir?'. No bodyguards, no nurses. They just leave him to roam around mad on the streets, killing people?"

Teja: "Maybe the manager wants SS to die and get a hold of all his money?"

13. Chris: "Is Ghajini dumb? He is the owner of a huge pharmaceutical factory. Why then does he indulge in small, sidey rackets? And even if he does, why does he get down to street fights with iron rods, instead of hiring people to do his dirty work?"

Teja: "Because those are his roots. He's a humble man, he hasn't forgotten his roots, where he comes from. He believes in equality, he believes in getting his hands dirty. He wouldn't have his men do anything that he wouldn't do himself."

15. Chris: "How come the police woman knows the details of Kalpana's death, if she was not there herself, Kalpana is dead, and SS has lost his memory? When SS regains consciousness, who reminds him about Ghajini, and sets him up in Kalpana's flat with the essentials like a walker and a punching bag, for those crucial 6 packs?"

Teja: "It's called poetic license, Chris. Suspension of disbelief. How else can you make a film, or watch it?"

By then, Chris was convinced that 'Ghajini' was a better film than his own. Thanks to Teja's patriotic defense of Indian cinema. Chris was also convinced of the merits of copying. After the film, he stalked off with bulging eyes and puffed up face, like SS.

I said wearily: "Is he going to copy that now?"

Teja said: "Yes, he's even going to get the 'Ghajini' hair cut."

I sighed. I knew I should have concentrated on my own abs rather than go to watch someone else's photo-shopped ones.

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.

3 years overtime

Apparently, I ought to have retired 3 years ago. Or perhaps curled up and died?

John Abraham in today's Bombay Times, the Chak De, Mumbai column which has a new celebrity response everyday, on 26/11 -

"I think the message is out there. 60% of the population is below 40 which means we have the largest 'thinking' population in the world."

Does anyone out there know how I can switch that 'thinking' button off now that I'm way past 40?

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.

fat and dumb

Coming back from IFFI Goa 2008, Pu and I were latched on to by a fellow film buff. That's one of the dangers you encounter at film festivals, the single male who thinks females without male escorts are simply waiting to be bored.

During the 13-hour journey, we were subjected to about 10 hours of monologue on his part. His love story, work schedule, assets, liabilities, future plans, diet, piggy bank habits and so on. He also saw fit to be nasty to a fellow traveller who mistakenly asked us for details about the festival. And proceeded to give Pu a lecture on how she should not talk to strangers, because she insisted on answering the man's queries. Pu bravely argued for 4 hours while I glared out into the darkening evening.

As a quick aside to me he asked, "Have you always been this fat, or have you put on weight recently? You should take care of yourself, you know. Don't you walk? Do you like eating too much?"

Pu and I were shocked enough to be dumbstruck. In the rickshaw back home, when we had finally shaken him off, we spluttered with ineffective rage. The next day I read in Mumbai Mirror of the ruckus between Shiney Ahuja and Isha Koppikar. Getting back to a shoot schedule after a 3 week break, he said to her, 'You've grown fatter." She retorted back, "And you've grown uglier." He skulked off, apparently.

Oh, how Pu and I need lessons in repartee! What's the use of comeback lines that come to you a day too late?

And coincidentally, I had written this before I went to Goa, but not posted it, just because ....

The trouble is that the ripply, wavery lines and the wobbly bits in the mirror don't bother me. I'd have a better chance of sticking to my diet and exercise regime if I didn't quite see myself (and everyone else) with the same eyes that I see a Renoir painting or a Meghalaya landscape . The trouble is I like both the banyan and the coconut trees. I like watermelons as much as I do strawberries. I like flat stomachs and round stomachs, young faces and old, wrinkled ones. Muscled bodies and flabby bodies both tell their own stories to me.

That's not to say I haven't spent a considerable amount of time in the last decade agonizing about the kilos I piled on during one extremely stressful phase of life. But the agony was brought on mainly by people whose idea of conversation-starters is "Oh God, you've become fat." Or "You've really lost weight. The last time I saw you, you were fat."

I really wonder what people are thinking when they assail friends, strangers, family, all and sundry with retorts like:

1. You're looking much better these days. Less ill.
2. You're looking awful. You have a double chin.
3. What's happened to your hair?
4. You've grown older. You used to be so pretty.
5. What's up with the crow's feet?
6. You never used to have those shadows under your eyes. You should sleep more.
7. You should exercise more. Don't you go to the gym?
8.  Are you happy?  Are you still with the same guy? Just asking.

Maybe I should start using the grass wheel, eh Grasshopper?