Rain, Rain Go Away. Come Again Another Day

The smell of fresh earth, the sound of raindrops humming on the tin roof above, stirring a hot coffee wanting to become one with the rising vapors, the undying desire for a cuddle under a warm blanket, stray thoughts that break into a romantic song, a smile that’s brought by a distant wet memory, fingers running through the phone list, warm feet that can feel the dampness outside. Love is all around..

That has always been my impression of the monsoons. A rich mans impression. The colors seemed quite grey when I tried painting wearing somebody else’s raincoat. As I peered through the cloth hanging as an excuse for a shield from the side of my auto, I realized along with the ink moistening on my crumpling CV, most of Bombay outside my little window was drowning in gutter and neglected waste. The smell of fresh earth was disguised under week old rotting plastic and knee high sewage. Pitter patter on windows had now become loud thuds of splashes as wheels tried to recover on roads. The undying desire for a cuddle still existed, but I had to stop myself from chasing every stray dog drenching to the bone, sitting without a tin roof above. No distant warm memories exist here, when a cold hand reaches out to grab yours, begging for a few alms. How much will be enough to buy a coffee that remains warm for the rest of the day?

I gaze away wiping the dash of freshly tossed muck, as my shifted thoughts are now troubled with the onset of an oily skin, pimples, marks etc.  I watch kids playing cricket by the side of their huts, blithe, untouched by the downpour or the onset of pimples.

I feel stupid and ‘one of those’ for fallaciously empathizing with the world as I make my way back to the ivory tower.

 

 

New York

The trend of providing an umbrella to new cutting edge directors under big banners is a well dressed move. Karan Johar, once said that he ideally wanted to be the only director directing for Dharma, but better sense and unkind competition prevailed.
Films directed/produced by the Chopra clan too have not tasted the sweet smell of success off late. Finally a film, justifying the glory of the Yash Raj banner. Director Kabir Khan, with ‘New York’, has put an end to the wait for quality Bollywood entertainment. Feels like Aditya Chopra has finally broken the evil witch’s spell with three easy steps:
1. Writing a nice story
2. Deciding on not casting Rani Mukherjee
3. Deciding not to direct it himself.
Now lets tango!

New York is a story of three friends and how the aftermath of 9/11 not only changed the sunrise on the city’s horizon but also their lives forever. Many films have been crafted on terrorism, most have revolved around either dramatizing the detention cell ‘Khuda Ke liye’ or have been in defense of the situation created thereby ‘Maachis’.
These have been listed as turning point cinema and ‘New York’ may not rank that high, but it definitely deserves to be in the listing.

Omar (Neil), from Delhi is a fresher at the New York University. There he befriends two Americans, Maya(Katrina) and Sam(John), and becomes a part of their lives faster than mustard melting over hotdog. Sam is the loveable college showoff who doesn’t miss an opportunity to outshine an opponent or flirt with Maya. Maya is the Students Rep, whose smile is warmer then the autumn breeze. Omar is the shy outsider, who gets swept away by this breeze and mistakes her warmth for reciprocation. An incident one night creates a closure to the two years of this directionless triangle. Maya realizes she actually does love Sam. Omar realizes Maya actually loves Sam. Sam is just plain happy.

The story quickly moves to 9/11, a day the world will never forget. The Twin Towers exit from the skyline as does Omar from Sam and Maya’s lives.
7 yrs later, circumstances force Omar to cross paths with them again. This time Sam, Omar and Maya are only images of the people that once existed on the New York college campus. Things have changed, they’ve changed, motives have changed.
Omar due to the past he shared has been framed and planted by the FBI (Irfan Khan) as an undercover agent to uncover Sam who is believed to be running a sleepers cell, a potential threat to the safety of the country. Omar reluctant, agrees to co-operate only to prove that he and his friend could never be involved with anything as menacing.

As time passes, much to the FBI’s frustration Omar can get no such evidence on Sam. He’s secretly relieved. Short-lived however. A sudden twist in tale, though some shout predictable, keeps the momentum going.

More than dwelling on terrorism or the impact it’s had on the lives of these protagonists, Aditya Chopra still keeps the story close to the love and camaraderie shared between the three friends.

Neil has done a decent job of playing Omar, a shy, good looking, righteous man who believes in the virtue of friendship and all its goodness. John has transformed well in his character of playing ‘the Sam that once was’. But Katrina in my space deserves a special mention. Can’t say it’s for an award winning performance, don’t know if it’s the way she looked or her justice to Maya’s character, which wasn’t too performance driven anyway. But all I can say is her presence lit up the screen like a thousand fiery autumn leaves.
Irfan Khan, belongs to a league where commenting on his acting would be like trying to sell a map to a flock of birds flying south.

The only clichéd I’d like to warn against is ‘ Muslims are being targeted all over. Some, due to their own misinterpretation of the Islam. But it will take one good deed from one good Muslim, to turn it all around’. What happened in New York was wrong. What happened with a lot of muslims was wrong. But these wrongs also happen against Hindus, against Christians, against other religions. And just not in America.

The end was a bit sad and predictable, but I can’t think what else would be more befitting. It is a Bollywood film at the end of the day! Pritam has excelled in giving us youthful tracks like ‘Hai Junnon’ and ‘Mere Sang’. ‘Tune Jo na Kaha’ is a soulful track and pertinently sited.

The cinematography too deserves a mention. Some shots are out of the box, though very subtle, they make you sit up and notice perspective. Overall, I would say even if you have to go watch it alone, do it, cause I did and didn’t regret it for a minute.

Happy, Gay or Not

A lot has been written and fought for where GLBT rights are concerned. Being Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual or Transgender, I thought was purely by choice. A few articles on the subject have further confused and intrigued me. But some helped put a few things into perspective.

During the course of my inquisition I stumbled upon two terms - Sexual Preference and Sexual Orientation. Sexual orientation is not a choice. Preference implies choice. Being gay, lesbian, or bisexual is sexual orientation. Sexual preference is a term that might apply to a bisexual person who prefers people of a particular biological sex.
So in other words you cant beat a gay guy straight!

Social stigma prevents many to remain in the closet, which is a huge deprivation of humanity, a violation of rights, of personal freedom, of choice. But that’s not what my confusion or this article is about.

Thomas Beati, became the first man to have delivered a baby. Beatie, had his gender changed surgically, but kept his female reproductive organs. This begs the question - Why? If all Tracy ever wanted was to be Thomas, then why did she keep her female reproductive organs functioning? Thomas' wife ideally is married to Thomas who is a woman. If both the ladies sexual preference was to be with the same sex, why then did she want Tracy to become a man?

Hakim Nelson and Jason Stenson, have just created history by duping oblivious city bureaucrats who not only OK'd the marriage license, but conducted the ceremony, despite gay marriage being illegal in the state of New York. Nelson aka "Kimah" hopes to one day have surgery and become a woman. Good for him, but please explain where does that leave Jason’s sexual preference? As a self confessed Gay – why would he want Hakim to become a woman? If he does prefer women, then why is he with Hakim?
While still relatively rare -- one advocate estimates that 0.25 to 0.5 percent of the American population is transgendered -- the idea of changing gender identity has become more widespread in recent years.

Henry Joseph Madden had a secret: He sometimes wore his mother's pantyhose and underwear under his clothes. "I really wanted to be a girl so bad, and that was one way for me to satisfy those feelings" . Dr. Jennifer Madden, a family physician, began her transition to being female at age 48.

As early as age 3, Dr. Julie Praus, born male, didn't understand why her father wanted to play catch.

Jamison Green, author of "Becoming a Visible Man," went through chest reconstruction and genital surgery at the age of 40.

Green, originally a woman is now happily married to a woman. Praus now a woman is also married to a woman. Madden originally a man now has a boyfriend. Aren’t they all then basically just Gays and Lesbians, in spite of painful surgeries, their preference doesn’t really change. Can they actually succeed in fooling themselves so deep? Will a set of new silicones reinstate their partner’s heterosexuality?
So does that make Madden’s boyfriend Gay? Or is he hetrosexual cause Madden on some level now owns her own panty hose?

At the risk of sounding like a righteous, judgmental ‘Jesus wont have it' kind of person, all I really want to do is understand the term ‘Transsexual’. Anybody out there?

Not that Shin(e)y.

Rapes are being reported worldwide with alarming regularity. According to some statistics, only one in 69 rape cases in India are even reported. Only 20 % of those reported result in convictions.

In a scenario like above I’m not sure what is more shocking, the fact that one more victim was added to the statistics or the fact that a heinous crime like this has been committed by a celebrity. Not to glamorize celebrities as immortal but this certain section of the society does have a larger moral responsibility towards millions who look up to them. What is it with fame and power that attracts vice and disgrace? Take our west wood heroes like Bill Clinton, Hugh Grant for e.g.

I’ve generally associated Shiney Ahuja with potential, but for the life of me, I can’t figure out what conceived in his head that fateful afternoon leading to his downfall. Could sex be the only motive for a crime like this or are there other physiological and psychological factors attached that drive the testosterones in a man. If getting laid is all he wanted I’m sure there could have been many other outlets.

Some believe Shiney has been framed for his fortune and the man is innocent. Would they believe the same if the victim was not his maid, but another influential somebody.
Would the furor pick up the same intensity if it was a ‘normal rape’ – i.e. not between a master and his slave, not between the mighty and the suppressed, not between a politician and a commoner? Why has Yogita Thakre’s case been brushed under the carpet already? She was all of seven when her world ended. Is anyone listening?

For the sake of argument let’s look at the other side of the coin, if it was a case of consensual intercourse, then Shiney seems to be the victim here, he’s been raped of status, his career, and probably his family.
‘He was a good man’, ‘I’ve never had any problems with Shiney’, ‘this is all a trap’ is what some of his close associates quoted. Was media really expecting a record saying ‘I truly believe Shiney is capable of such a peccadillo?’ How would what his school teacher thought of him help the investigation?

This case has raised a very important question though, if found guilty he will be jailed for 7 years and deservingly so, but if this is a case of ‘blame the victim’, how can his innocence be proved. Due to the aggressive nature of men in general, the laws enforced are to favour the testimony of the victim as final. Can any form of chemical analysis, signs of force, be checked before convicting? There is a new method called checking for vagina lubrication, and only if no intent of intercourse can be proved from the victim’s side can a verdict be given. So basically the victim, if a victim, is made to endure the ordeal over ands over again. These victims or offenders are not psychotic killers capable of mind games. If a lie detector can be used to map minds and convict the likes of Dawood, can they not be used under such circumstances as well?

They say if there is a god, justice shall be done. But I’d like to know if there is a god, why isn’t justice served from the word go?

Kal Kisne Dekha

After the two month deadlock between multiplexes and producers, films finally returned to the cinemas today, like cowboy’s riding back into a dead county.
The first release of this summer was producer Vashu Bhagnani’s film ‘Kal Kisne Dekha’ starring Jacky Bhagnani (Surprise! Surprise!) and Vaishali Desai.

Director Vivek Sharma whose past includes Asoka & Bhootnath may not be counting on a heavy fan following after this release. Having said that, this film may still do well at the box office purely because the release has been strategic in ending the draught. Families would rush to cinema houses for anything (trying to defend my stand here.)

The film introduces new faces but severely lacks freshness and passion.
Nihal Singh (Jacky) is a small town boy who moves to Bombay and joins a college that is in South Africa (First fall - did the director forget that 60% of Bollywood viewers are from Bombay, this is really pushing creative license). Nihal is bright, enthusiastic, questions the existence of dreams, has an oddball kind of charm and is a visionary. No, he does not work with the BMC to improve conditions during monsoons, but is too busy trying to convince Meesha, the college’s spoilt brat that he can dance. Meesha’s character claims that she’s never said 'Sorry' to anyone in her life, well she should, I strongly recommend, apologize to the audience for being a part of this project.

Nihal Singh has the gift of seeing the future. He thus succeeds in saving Meesha’s life by helping locate and disseminate a bomb. However his gift is unveiled by media and before Nihal can dance on the next song with Meesha, he’s already a part of a mad scientists plan.

Nihal’s world is rudely interrupted when Meesha disappears and thus begins a dangerous game, where Nihal’s powers are used by him, against him. His innocence is violated and his vision is used as a blue print to plan one of the deadliest attacks on the city. In a corny kind of fashion Nihal doesn’t see this coming!

The biggest let down of this film is its dialogues. I can’t seem to decide whether Vivek Sharma is a bad director or an even worst dialogue writer. But I think I’ll award him for the latter. The dialogues give the film a dated feel. Dated 15 -20 years back, when Jacky was still a 130 Kgs.

The music and the locals of the film make it just about watchable. Sajid – Wajid have displayed a decent range between composing the peppy 'Soniye Billori' and the heartfelt 'Tere Bina'. I even liked 'Aasmaan Jhuk Gaya'. But just three out of eleven compositions would not be considered a good score. The trailers served only as good appetizers and the short clippings made Nihal look like a better dancer. Though the film was heavily promoted in concerts all over the country, with the likes of Kareena and Lara scorching the stage with Jacky, he still has quite a few miles to go.

After witnessing many fathers launch their sons, I have to say there is only one Greek Diva and Hrithik Roshan is yet to be dethroned.

The Princess

While reading a friends blog, an article got me thinking. The era has arrived where achievements should be applauded purely for their merit and not as if to say, ‘it feels like an achievement because you’re a woman’ -  “woman president”, “woman CEO” etc. True the perception of today’s woman has evolved. She showcases far more substance than ever only written about. Today she is free, she is proud. Amidst all this, I can understand the anger vented towards Disney for it’s creation of little princesses, who still need to be rescued.

But I don’t necessarily agree.

A friend’s comment on the article was deep fried in concern on how kids today would yearn for that perfect world, the magic wand. Girls would grow up believing feminism could only be spelt with those 10 qualities.

What we ideally need to teach our little princesses is to READ BETWEEN THE LINES.

I think the world of Disney is feminist and you don’t need to sit by your bedside, waiting for moonlight to strike you through tainted windows to realize that.

Disney has empowered it’s women with the supremacy to navigate strings of vulnerability through a tool called ‘oomph’ (or some form of it)  like a kiss, or a promise to look after you, or Fructus long and strong thrown down as a rope (all of this eventually leads to the happy ending)

It’s those silly boys who fall for it each time, mistaking it for helplessness and are quick to jump on silver horses armour et all. Look at Cinderella, agreed, she needed a little help getting out, but once at the ball, she left him high and dry, only to walk around the whole bloody city with a shoe in his hand. Mochi banna diya bechare ko.

Sleeping beauty, too, very cleverly thought it better to roll over and play dead rather than waste her time doing menial jobs for an evil old fart. So, she just lazed, slept mostly, till somebody came around. She then took him home, traded him in to do all the work, while she basked in morning sunlight drying her freshly colored hair and painted toe nails. BTW that’s what happened in Cinderella as well. They just didn’t show it.

Snow White was the smartest, not one, but she had 7 dwarfs dancing to her tune and finally she chose to be with someone else. Go girl!

Beauty and the Beast, she only stuck with him cause he was a beast (get itJ)

Little Mermaid, decided to stop fishing around, not because she longed for the luminous yellow sun and the green trees of the distant land. Was no one paying attention when she sang:

“I've got gadgets and gizmos aplenty

I've got whozits and whatzits galore

(You want thingamabobs?

I got twenty)

But who cares?

No big deal

I want more”

Yeah baby it’s the calling of the rich and the famous, ever seen a shell fish on the cover of Vogue?

So please, get real and smell the beer. It’s not really a Oh! Come rescue me world, while I flutter my eyelashes.  I could flutter my eyelashes too, if you promise to clean that spot under the table as well, I mean, whatevah!

My favorite is a line from the classic Pretty Women when Richard Gere finally climbs the iron railings with courage and a sense of pride on finally rescuing Julia, he beamingly asks “What happens after the Knight in shinning armor rescues his princess?”.

“ She rescues him right back” is all that was needed. And that dear friends, is the truth. 

The Journey or The Destination

Today the sun set in darker shades of water color but the air seemed lighter, even though mixed with tears, some of joy, that we’ve come this far, and some of disbelief on how fast we’ve arrived.

The sound of ‘pack up’ did not have the cattle turning homeward. There was no dire rush for solitude before graze next morning. A restless easiness uplifted many minds. Twilight today, marked the end of my first outdoor and the beginning of a journey my heart is set to wander.

I’ve finally completed my first feature. What my role was is not important, the bruised swords not important, things learnt, if any shared, not important. Everything seemed insignificant as I watched this one big family in subdued hugs of exhilaration. Every eye that met shared a moment, and in that one moment it knew, their paths may never cross again or cross for reasons unknown. Holding back an erupting volcano of emotions, I knew I was going to miss every single person on the field today. Even those, whom I never shared, even a minute of space with.

For the less adventurous who'll only brave this ride through stories of mere others, I must tell you, being a part of conceiving a film gives ‘adrenaline rush’ a new, yet unexplainable definition.

My first few weeks were spent masterminding plans of fleeing, without emerging as a quitter that is. Tired, each night I went to bed with a promise that tomorrow will be different, easier, better, an early night. While dragging dead weight out early the next morning, I’d make promises again, just as true as the one’s I made to myself the night before. To top only 4 hrs of sleep on an average, the sweltering heat that reduced my curls to a reminiscence of a forest fire, pimples that promised to remind me of their existence forever, food that made me want to turn bulimic, and work load that could put a master juggler to shame, I felt like a piece of meat, well done. No overcooked. Plain charred (even photoshop now,gives errors while fixing my pics)

But only till I learnt the secret. Stand up and embrace. So, as soon as I tore the blue prints of blowing up the back exit, I fell in love with my bohemian tan, alligator skin, and everything that made me look like a porcupine cross. Today, I appreciate and salute every single leaf of a branch that adorns the tree. At the end of the day, when we put away our masks, we’re all the same; sweaty, smelly and all we need is a hug. And when the day ended after two months, there was only that one thing left to do.

From here, we may all walk in different directions, together, but as we looked back at the setting canvas, standing in this moment, I silently nodded in agreement with the wind; it is the journey here, which made this sunset worth it.