LOU

I still remember the simpler times.

During the fresher's orientation week in college, people were called onto the stage, to say 'I love you' in different languages - under the guise - "we should say this to our parents everyday".

The phrase I love you comes from a culture very different from our current cultural understanding.
In India, pyar, ishq, mohabbat, prem, bhalobasha, etc. always have romantic connotation. Unlike in English, in Indian languages, we don't have separate phrases like 'I love you' and 'I am in love with you' which tell us two totally different stories - the first being a general statement, and the second being romantic in nature.

But in India, a 'love you' is always taken as a romantic gesture, and somehow, a 'like you' has also moved into the cupid-zone. This makes life so difficult.
If one follows the English way, and proceeds with making statements of love and like, he would be totally misunderstood on multiple occasions by numerous people - that he's smitten with the girl in question. So what should a guy do? make statements like - 'i love your hair' 'i love your dress' 'i love your smile' - but never i love you, because that's inappropriate. you can't even say i like you, because that defines that you are on your highway to love-land.

I still remember the simpler times. Only if i was still in school would life have been better. These kids totally understand and behave well to these terms and statements, unlike the grown ups.

Morbid Thoughts

Couple of days ago, I was driving my bike on my way to work. It was about 10.30 in the morning, bright and sunny.
I had to take a right turn at a round-about. Gave the indicator signal, made sure there was nothing coming towards me around the circle, and turned. A kid, who was sitting on the side of the road till then, decided this to be the time when he wanted to cross the road.

Run! Screeching tires! Swerving bike! Angry glaces!

And I was on my way to work.
Suddenly a thought struck me. What if it was not a boy, but a truck? What if I hadn't braked at the right moment? Would I be dead right now? Or seriously injured lying in middle of the road?
Then what?

How long would it take me to get to a hospital? (Well someone would call 108, right?)
How long before someone I know hears what has happened to me and rushes to the Hospital? (The Novartis ID card I was carrying has the office number. Someone would call, right? My mobile has most recent calls. Someone would try them too. Of course, in case my mobile survives).
When will my parents hear about this?
How will they react?

I have no idea why I thought of all this.
But I did!
And I'm getting such morbid thoughts pretty frequently nowadays.
WHY!

Being A Bong

~ Blatantly Sourced/Plaigarised from the comment (by Anirban -who sourced it from a chain mail - so hopefully no copyrights infringed here) 
on this fabulous post on Bong Identity by no other than the GreatBong himself ~
(Another priceless piece on The Bengali Identity can be found here)

This is for all the proud Bongs and those who can have a hearty laugh at themselves..

Overview:
There are two kinds of Bengalis that I know. Probashi or Expatriate Bangalees, a fairly large and diverse group about which I can’t write as I am one of them. And Bengalees who are from Kolkata. This group is incorrectly known as Bongs, as they are merely a subset. However, this is the only group which matters. Gokhale told of them, long years back, “What Bengal thinks today, India thinks tomorrow.” To which Rene Descartes responded, “I think (today), therefore I am (Bengali).” Like all other Nobel Prize Winners, Oscar Awardees and most successful Indian cricket captains, Rene Descartes was also a Bong (this fact is not known outside of Kolkata).

Physical Description:
The Bong has a large head, glasses, glistening hair and dark skin. Older Bongs develop an ample stomach to balance their large heads. This happens by the age of 25. They smell of Keo Karpin or shorsher teil (mustard oil). The average life expectancy is 65 years. What is even more impressive is what they do in those years. Outside Kolkata, regardless of weather, sex or age, Bongs can be seen in Monkey Caps. This is a must-have accessory as well as a sign to recognize other Bongs. The Bongling can often be recognised in either over-sized or under-sized school uniforms. The Bong mother’s second biggest fear (See diet for the biggest one) is that the “porer bochor o lomba hoye gele abar notun skirt kinte hobe!!” or “Next year, if you grow taller, we’ll again have to buy a new skirt!!” Thus, the school uniform is selected to last at least three years. Thus the uniform sits as conspicuously on the Bongling as the plumage of a macaw.

Early Years :
While most Bongs are born with innate talents in singing, dancing, painting, film-making, cooking or embroidery, their creative talents are honed even before they can start speaking. Frequent meets are organised between infants and their successful ancestors and other relatives. MA degrees (preferably from Cambridge, at least from Presidency or Jadobpoor – Jadavpur University) are displayed over the cots. The infant is exposed to the best of Bengali thought – Marx, Bentham, Kalidas, Tolstoy, Chekhov*. This increases the sizes of their heads and the height of their ambitions. Similar examples, though rare, can be found in European tradition as well, like in the case of Mozart. In India, however, Bongs have the sole preserve on such activity during infancy. Soon, when they grow up a little, their characters are honed in the best of schools. Here, I am not referring to the South Points, La Marts, Don Boscos and all. They are important in the nurture a Bong child goes through. What is even more important are the schools the Bong child passes through before school and after school. Many a Bong child wakes up at five o’clock in the morning to attend swimming classes. After one hour of swimming, he attends tennis coaching before rushing off to one of the South Points, LaMarts etc. mentioned above. School finishes by two or so, from where he scoots along to Singing/ Instrumental Music/ Dance Classes, then tuition (for at least three of all five subjects). He rounds off the day with coaching on either Debating or Quiz. Many a Bong mother will carry the child along through this day, feeling equally energized. This behavior is again not restricted to Bongs. It also seen within kangaroos in Australia who rush along from one clump to another bush.

Growing up:
Soon the Bong attains adolescence, doesn’t find friends of his age (since everyone is competing for the Nobel Prize or the Indian captaincy) and finds intimacy in conversation in his/her parents and poems of T.S.Eliot and Pablo Neruda. When school ends, they move on to the good colleges – Presidency, Xavier’s or IIT Kharagpur. The best of them, though, move straight to Joo (Jadobpoor). However, in recent years, Dilli (Stephen’s obviously) is becoming the preferred destination for some escapists. In colleges, they decorate their rooms with books or portraits of Robi Guru (Tagore). On the opposite wall, men would have posters of Che/Maradona and women would have Enrique Iglesias, thus expressing solidarity with Latin American culture. All of them share equal interest in the Bong-Rock (Bhumi, Chondrobindu, Cactus, Usha Uththup, Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin and Deep Purple).

Later Years :
Bongs mature early. Critics have said that they grow old early, but that is nothing but old hat. Years of toil and Eliot would obviously bestow wisdom. The reason they look older is because the sole purpose of a Bong’s life is to win the Nobel Prize or the Oscars (and in recent years, captain the Indian team). With great responsibility comes great age. Add to it the chlorine in the swimming pools and you know why Bongs grey prematurely. As far as their mission in life is concerned, they have been very successful at it. Every Indian Nobel Prize winner has been Bong. So have the Oscar Awardees. And most successful Cricket Captains. And Bipasha Basu. Once Bongs have kids though, their mission on life changes. The only raision de’etre for them is making sure that their progeny achieves the heights that they could (or couldn’t). Hence, they are mostly found outside of schools, colleges and tuition classes, with mats (madoors), mugs (of chaaa) and mouthfuls of goppo.

Diet:
Diet is as important as Robindro Shongeet. There’s nothing that a Bong can’t eat. However, they prefer protein over other food groups. The largest source of protein for them is fish, then meat, and then mishti (sweets) made from milk. More than fish itself, it is the knowledge of fish which is coveted and enjoyed. Carbohydrates are tolerated if they are fried in oil or if it is accompaniment to fish. Luchis (somewhat like a Puri), Telebhajas (pakoras) and Phuchkas (Paani Puri) are the favoured source of carbohydrates. The young Bengali though invariably always has Farex, Lactogen and Waterbury ‘s Compound. As far as they most important meal of the day is concerned, please do note that what dieticians have been saying in the last few years, Bongs have known for centuries. Breakphast/tiphphin is an occasion where the entire family comes together, to watch the office-going Bong male and school-bound Bonglings eat. The Bong woman’s biggest fear is that “Shokale bhaat dal mach bhaaja na kheye beriye gailo” or “In the morning, He went out without eating rice, dal and fish fry.” To round off the calories, Dal is often accompanied by aaloo bhaate, aaloo bhaja, potol bhaaja and various other heartily fried stuff. Not for the faint-hearted.

Mating and procreation:
A few Bong end up being in relationships, which lead to love marriage. This is sometimes shown in movies and song. However, most do not have any such social  malignancy and end up marrying the woman of their mother’s dreams or men of their father’s choosing. This results in mixing the right genes for the next cycle of Bongs.Love marriage, by its very nature, is random. It sometimes results is tragedy, like marrying into another country (like India ). Hence, it is avoided, wherever possible.

Social Life:
Adda, robindro shongeet and cha. Repeat. Do note that the young Bong doesn’t have a social life (at least not till he wins the Nobel or gets a Government job). And phootball. the Bongs have had an illustrious history of achievement in football. Every para (neighbourhood) has stories of when they won the World Cup at the expense of the next one. The last time it happened in my parent’s para was in 1986, when Argentina won in Mexico. Diego Maradona, who looks Bhodrolok enough, give or take a few lines of coke, or a few sprigs of grass, scored famously using his hand, a skill which he learnt in Kolkata.Over the last few years, Brazil has been gladdening the hearts of the many Zicos being born in Kolkata after 1982. The only team which is not Bong is Germany as they play with more efficiency and no creativity, which thus not support adda. Do not ask of a Bong ever doing anything of substance on the phootball field, as then the Bong will keep you occupied about Jakarta, 1962. “Chuni Goswami je Ball tule dilo PK ke. Match-er aagei bolechilo, “Ekta Ball debo. Daam kore maarish. Gol hobe”. ”Chuni Goswami put a ball up for PK (Banerjee). He told him before the match itself, “I will give you one ball. Hit it with a bang. Goal will happen.” Obviously, it is also the crowning moment of Indian phootball.

Habitat:
While you may find a Bong in other places (like occasionally in offices), the best time to observe a Bong is in his natural habitat – the best of colleges, the best of schools, the best of coffee houses. It is here that he will tell you about Balzac while she will recite poetry with gay abandon. To mix in with the Bong, apply Keo Karpin to your hair and carry a jhola……and dont forget the thick glasses. Hopefully, they won’t notice your small head. Do not worry about not knowing the language, as the Bong likes being heard more than hearing.

Famous Bongs :
Many famous Bongs have been referred to in this extract. Hence, this section is used to debunk that big myth about Big Bongs. People believe that Bong men can’t be hunky……. …., or carelessly famous. If so, then what about Abhishek Bachchan (via mother), Saif Ali Khan (via mother), John Abraham (via girlfriend), Hritik Roshan (via grandmother) , or Sonia Gandhi (via cat…. seriously, she’s from Kolkata).

Bongs in Literature, Film, Art:
Everywhere you care to look.

Closing Word :
Being Bong, at the end of the day, is a state of mind. Or, a case of being discovered by them.

Pageviews

As the blog gets closer to a 1000 hits (yippeeee),

Here's all my readers:

Couple of questions I have:

1. India, US, Netherlands, OK. China? Iran? Who are you? And what's you reading on my page?
2. Whatta heck is Java & flock? who calls a browser Java?
3. Samsung has its own OS?
4. Which is the leading browser in the world? Going by this sample, looks like chrome is too far behind the leader of the pack..

As stupid as they come

So here's my little piece of confession.

• The CHENNAI debacle:

There was this 3-day weekend, and I was destined to visit Chennai to meet my brother, maybe take a trip to ooty. But tickets were hard to get. So we postponed the whole gig for a week later, and I checked on irctc that there were available seats on the trains.

2 days before I was supposed to travel, I logged into irctc to print the tickets, but was surprised to not find them there. I looked at my mails, and I can't find the tickets there as well! WTF!

I reasoned that I had booked a lot of tickets in the past weeks for multiple people, so I must have forgot to book mine. With a heavy heart, I informed my brother about this. He was pissed (obviously), as we had planned I'll buy him a guitar on that trip.

So nothing doing, I'm stuck at Hyderabad, while I guess he cursed me to hell sitting in Chennai.

Next Monday, Saurabh (my roommate), found my Chennai trip tickets in his irctc account!

• The rail-roko farce:

I'm supposed to be on my way to Secundrabad railway station now! 

But, well, the Telengana strikes are back, and in good measure. First the state transport buses went off the roads from Monday, then there was a hue and cry over the Petrol Pumps, many of which opened and closed at their whim and fancy. There was also a potential stop on Autos. I saw so many people walking to work in the last 5 days, it looked like a scene from a war movie where refugees are walking off towards a place that holds hope.

On Friday afternoon, I was informed of a website where they had a list of cancelled trains, due to the agitation, and proposed Rail-roko to be held in Telengana region. My train, unfortunately, was on that list.


So I frantically search for other options, for I have to be home on Sunday(Mom n Me plan to catch a nau se barah show ;-) par, kisi se na kehne).. I find a connecting flight through Mumbai, leaving Hyderabad at 11PM, and reaching Vadodara at 7 AM. Prompt booking is done, Bye byes are said at the office, and I run home. Takes me an hour to get home rather than the usual 20 minutes. I pack, things don't fit, I repack. Its 8.30 PM. I should leave. Get a Auto to ferry me to the Aero Express stop. Bugger has no change, and I part with 100 bucks. Just missed the bus. No info on when the next bus is. Take a taxi (Thankfully the driver was hunting in the area). Reach the Airport at 9.30. Oh! I'm on time. The cop at the entry looks a t my ticket.
"Sir, ye to aj ka nahi hai".
"What?"
"Sir, ye 24th hai, aj to 23rd hai"!!!!!!!!!!!

As stupid as they come, I say!

When it all Ended! And How!

The screen went black.
The audio came up.
The now-so-familiar tune (Hedwig's Theme) started playing.
On screen, now the end credits rolled on - in bright and shiny golden letters.

And I sat there.
Never again? This is the last time?

~ Alright, this is my 4th Attempt to finish this post ~

1st Attempt:
The moment the Credits rolled and I uttered "I don't want to go home!"
(I hate people who jump out of their seats the moment the movie finishes. I want to watch the whole thing dammit.)
I came home, but decided against writing it, as many of my pals hadn't seen the movie yet, and I am not great at keeping the spoilers to myself.

2nd Attempt:
I came home, saddened all over again, after a second viewing.
It was like after you break-up with a long time girl/boy- friend. You just want to sit alone, and be sad, for a long time. I felt Melancholic.

3rd Attempt:
Tried again. Was at a loss what to write about. I don't even remember the scenes. All i remember is the sadness I felt.

4th Attempt:

~ Here goes ~


Sad but true.
That was the last time I would have seen the trio of Potter-Weaslie-Granger on screen. (Magic please!)
The 2 times I watched the movie, I heard a lot of exclamations to the same tune as the above statement, some dripping with sadness.

One person even said 'What will I do now?'

Yes the movie was different from the book.

Yes there were missing plot points(only 2 giants in the war?), and convoluted interpretations/changes (Molly Weasley's sudden appearance).

But really, it doesn't matter anymore.

All that matters is that its over.

Unlike the LOTR franchise, I don't see a 'The Hobbit' type resurrection of the HP troops.

What will I miss:

1) Seeing the WB logo show up, among a cloudy-noisy-fading-out sequence that always mesmerized me.

2) Seeing the lush scenery in the film. (Yes I can watch many more movies and NGC for this, but where do I get the magical undertone? A steam engine-pulled train, a flying car, horcrux hunting, and what-not? )

3) Fred n George n Ron n Arthur Weaslie (I am partial to these 4)

4) Hogwarts - It has evolved and changed in the course of the books and the movies, adding many things to the Castle-next-to-a-lake established in the first book.

5) And last, but in no way in order of preference, Emma Watson. We saw her grow up on screen into the absolute diva from the li'l unruly haired girl from the first movie. I hope she goes on to do great things in life, and not have the same fate as Arun Govil.

Farewell my friends.

To-wane-tea Phi Years Hence

The lanky fellow stood near the door, accompanied by a woman who could be easily labelled as the sometimes derogatory 'chinki'. That they were in love was obvious by the holding of hands and deep looks they passed each other from time to time. He stood there, ushering in the motley crowd that slowly walked into the house, individually, or in small clusters. The lady collected the wet coats and umbrellas brought in by the people, and deposited them to dry out in the corridor that ran on the side of the room.

Many of these people knew each other, by names or faces or by quirky habits or traits that they have heard about a lot. They mingled, talking mostly in a hushed tone. Sometimes there was a sudden gush of laughter, and a quiet sob could be heard at times coming from the random clusters that had formed in the room.

Near the window, stood a somewhat short lady, slowly wiping away a solitary teardrop on her chin. The tears had smudged her kohl-rimmed eyes. As she looked up, she saw the potbellied Sardarji who was bringing her a glass of juice, and smiled warmly. Old memories have such warmth! Her phone buzzed, she hesitantly picked it up, and replied in a curt manner, "I said I'll be in the studio in an hour. We have 3 hours before the show, dammit". Sardarji handed the glass over to her, nodded and smiled, and said "People leave, huh! Work stays". Pointing to the window he said again, "I have a car waiting. You can take it if you are running late". She nodded slowly.

On the other corner of the room, a group of men had gathered, all with glasses in their hands. "For the man who always refused a drink. Cheers!", said the man who everyone knew was his first friend. Others joined in with their own messages. "The most conservative ally in AoE", said the Businessman and Hotelier from Mumbai. "My fight partner", chirped the scientist who had flown in all the way from Belgium for 2 days, and had brought most of the red wine being served around. Lot of other remarks followed, as the glasses were emptied and refilled.

On the lawn outside, a lady sat on the wrought iron swing in front of a small patch of flowers, protected from the rain by the plastic roof. She looked up at the open window on the first floor, outside which was a gulmoher tree, almost hiding it from view behind the yellow-orange blossoms. She knew inside the window was a Mahogany desk and a plush chair, surrounded by glass-fronted cupboards filled with books and DVDs from around the world. He would sit there all day reading, watching or listening, trying to absorb as much of the world as he could in his final days. She thought of the time when she had once asked him what he wanted in life, and he had described this dream. Her thoughts were broken by the sound of footsteps, as two ladies ran towards the house from the gate.

They weren't carrying a umbrella, and were getting soaked in the downpour. One of them, yet again, was evidently from the north-eastern part of the country, while the other could have been from anywhere. She exclaimed "Nice place, right?". The lanky man at the door came out to receive them, "Our elder brother designed the house, just as he wanted it to be. It was his childhood dream", looking at the other woman, he said, "Hello Kiran-di, no trouble finding the place I hope". "Nope, we just followed the road as you had described", said Kiran, "Gaya was worried for sometime that we are lost", wiping off some of the rainwater from her coat, walking up the stairs towards the door.

I just smiled, sitting in my chair, in my most favourite room on the planet. To see all these people here, gathered together, gave me immense happiness. There were the college mates, my brother and his wife, the gaming partners, the friends I made along the journey called life, and of course, the ones I loved. Everyone was here. Now I could go in peace.


This is a work of fiction.
Any resemblance to a living person is intentional, and if you can't figure out who you are, well,
1) maybe I found it difficult to describe you and fit you into the story. Next time, pakka! Promise.
OR
2) you are mentioned, you are just too stupid to recognise yourself.

"Buddha Hoga Tera Baap"

Viju, as 'Vijay Dinanath Chauhan' of Agneepath is endearingly named in his most recent flick, is no Buddha, for sure. He may look a little old, in some scenes, he may even look a little(mind you, very little) tired, he still is no Buddha.
As he says in 1 scene, trying to explain who he is-
ye aj kal ke chhokre log mera gana gate hai, dance karte hai, original dikhau kya?

The film is just that. A reflection of what this man has been to Indian Cinema, if not to India at large.
He remains a figure almost every Indian praises and worships, and being from an era when the filmy people were so far-removed from the general public as if they were from another planet altogether, he has risen to the challenge of modernity and social media. His connection to his extended family on Twitter kinda woke up all the other silver screen baba- and baby-logs on FB and twitter, on which they calmly promote their or their pal's flicks, while this man holds court like an Emperor, who is just and who will listen to as many people as possible.
But enough praising the grand old man(oops, I said it). He was the first superstar, the first one to bring KBC to our screens(wow, those 9 o'clock emptiness on the streets - I though only cricket could do that to India), and lots of other stuff to his kitty. But let me tel you my experience at the theater, twice, while I gazed at the screen and enjoyed my quality time with him on screen.

The movie is a bit tacky, if you go by definition. But did I think so while i watched it? No. Not even the second time.
It has a very imaginative and hypothetically impossiblistic Climax. So? Who gives a damn. Its funny, and apt.
The movie is about the return of Viju(+scarfs, floral shirts, designer jeans, stylish shades, leather jackets, suits, blazers, multiple watches, and what not) to amchi Mumbai after 20 years. Viju is a sharp-shooter(Watch Angelina Jolie starrer Wanted), no no, un sab ka bap, looking for a job, and trying to reconnect with his now separated wife and son who live in the city. There is a definite plot outline, some characterizations, some sub-plots(Kammo, aka, Kamini = Raavina Tandan; sonu sood & sonal chauhan's love story; etc etc). Who gives a damn.
The music is good. The RAP/POP medley of old hits, or Sunidhi with 'Chandigarh di star', and of course, Big B crooning Haal-E-Dil.
Big B fills your senses and Puri Jagannath finishes of the film moments before you start to get a little distracted from the film.
GO watch it. Really.


ALERT: Big B, the big star he is, has attaracted all sorts of people to this film. The youngistan is in, to see what this man is made of. But there are also the 40+s, and the 60+s, maybe some 80s as well in the theater with you. And they have brought the toddlers along. So, noise alert.

AFTERTHOUGHT: Someoone said Makarand Deshpande is a talented actor wasted in the film. I disagree. There a not too many people around who can pull of his last scene in the film with such finesse.

A smelly corner on Bollywood street - Delhi Belly

When I generally sit down to write about a film, I would have already categorized the movie into good/bad/average, must watch/watch/time pass/leave it, ... you get the drift..

It was last saturday that I watched the movie thats going viral on the silver screen, street corners, office cafeterias and class rooms - yes - Delhi Belly. The songs have made their presence felt everywhere, and some dialogs have crept into our sub conscious. I laughed and laughed and laughed some more all through the movie. Didn't want to leave the theater at the end(when Amir was playing Dandiya with his handguns, dressed as the disco fighter). But still, I can't figure out what to write here.

The film was non apologetic in its mannerism - the "diamond" delivery (you know what I mean if you have seen the movie), the excessive gastro-intestinal noises, the dry humping in the hotel room, and a lot more.
The music is innovative, as well as catchy. Ram Sampath was a name I had only heard on MTv Desi beats - and I had no idea who he was. Now I bow before thou, Mr. Ram Sampath. Well done. DK Bose was a hit from the day it was cenceptualized, and Amir khan promoting his next "Return of Disco Fighter" at then end of the movie - 'Haye! Current marti hai'.. WOW.

There was a lot of sincerity in the comradrie in the gang, and a nice spunk to the character of Madam Special Correspondent. Laughter is drawn out easily scene after scene. Most characters held their own place in the narrative. Vir and Kunal have their space, and not overshadowed by the rising star Imran.
But for people who can't stand cuss words in every sentense(sometimes only cuss words in a sentense), this is not a flick you will enjoy. STAY AWAY.

Read here for some more interesting stuff about the film - http://unboxedwriters.com/2011/07/st-happens-and-how/

Also, lastly, this movie featured a song which is a tribute to the groovy 80s of bollywood. On sunday, I watched Buddhah Hoga Tera Baap, a tribute to the man himself, Sr. Bachchan. A post about that colourful film up next.

The Facebook notes - Now on the blog

Taramandal
by Korak Datta on Thursday, December 16, 2010 at 11:23pm


Potol Babu - Filmstar by Satyajit Ray was adapted by the Delhi tadpoles into a bedazzling Taramandal - with well timed silences, background score(which sounded like to have been inspired from Ray's compositions) with hindi and motzart(in the dark) thrown in for effect, a beautifully strung together bunch of stories - All showcasing a person's wish to act, monologues, and the original story, peiced together, created a mesmerizing effect. Yes it didn't create as much effect as Miss Meena yesterday, it still left me wondering how the creater came up with this concoction!

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Ugadi weekend, 2011
by Korak Datta on Tuesday, April 5, 2011 at 7:30am


It was destined to be a weekend of doom!
But well, Ye saali zindagi always turn out differently than we imagine it will, right?

So there was a night of joy watching the Final with Mahesh, Radha, DDY, Samy and Priya.
Then came the next day.
The next two days passed with Kerala cuisine, Ugadi food, Famous Icecream, and unbelievable Chinese food. All this came with perks, F.R.I.E.N.D.S - KK[P], Krishna and SSC..

It didn't go that bad, huh?

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Weekend
by Korak Datta on Monday, May 2, 2011 at 10:50pm


I did precisely 2 things over the weekend-
1) Read a book cover-to-cover: Chocolate Guitar Momos is a mushy romantic story with plots "inspired" by many flicks - in a good adaptive way, set in the lazy days and nights of Guahati. Its the story of a 27-ish year old musician in the quest for that special someone.. A good read for any romantic soul.
2) Watched Dum Maro Dum: I would rate it as a pretty decently made watchable entertainer movie - with paisa wasool thrill/suspense, except for some of the fight scenes(involving Jr. Bachchan) and the dancing shots of Deepika. The second one the worst bit actually.

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Dabba gull
by Korak Datta on Sunday, May 29, 2011 at 2:40am


Remember the last time you were on a roller coaster ride?
That small point at the pit of your stomach you never knew existed suddenly starts gathering weight, and you feel exhilating and intimidated at the same time. The adrelanine rush prepares you for for the impending fall down, from the peak.
But after you finish the ride, it vanishes quickly, leaving you gasping for more, another ride maybe.

Thats not what happened today though. I think its been about 8 hours from the time when I finished the ride. And it was no roller coaster either. When I booked the tickets, I knew Amol Gupte's, oops sorry, Partho's "Stanley ka Dabba" was about a cute 4th std kid, who doesn't bring a dabba to school. He is a master story teller, weaving his thoughts through the imaginative realms of life to come up with engrossing tales for his classmates and teachers.
The movie opens with the best opening credits i have seen in a long time - old style animation. The first real shot is breathtaking in its own way, sunlight beaming through from behind a cluster of leaves, waving a silent hello to the viewers in a gentle breeze.
We are introduced to stanley, a cute kid, who looks like he has taken some beating in the recent times, but who happily goes and takes his place in the classroom. Slowly, we are introduced to Rosy miss(All of us had a rosy miss in school, the favourite teacher whol oved all her sweeties, and encourages every act from them), the snooty science teacher, Iyer madam("Is this global warming?" "No" "Parts of body?" "No" .... well, you can't dare to go off topic with her), all the teachers, the headmaster(Father), and the second character of the film who doesn't carry his dabba, Khadoos, the Hindi teacher, always salivating on other peoples food.
Amole Gupte takes us back to our schooldays, briefly disturbing the space-time continum. We are brought back to reality soon though. Atleast I was. THe camera angles and the editing left me with haunting images of a kid who drinks water inplace of food, and lies through his teeth to proclaim hightened senses of satisfaction with the food he is eating.
His classmates are like the ones all of had in school, jovial, loyal, and friendly, who don't wait a moment before proclaiming that they wil share their Dabba with Stanley till his mom returns from her trip to Delhi. And Amol Gupte plays Khadoos, the jerk, with finnesse mostly absent on the big screen.
When the movie ends, it leaves us, well, I don't know. It left me with a blocked nose, and tears streaming down my face. Don't get me wrong, it was not a sad movie. It was just, well, a movie with a biiiig heart. Go watch Stanley ka Dabba, only if you are not a crybaby like me, or if you are comfortable letting a few tears roll down your cheeks, because those, I promise, will make an appearance, at least when you get to know the story behind the real dabba of Stanley.
There are a lot of things to speak about the movie, its cast and the director. The story touches you, the characters make an impact, and the dialogs and situations tug at the strings of your heart with ease. But I have to stop. And before I do, I must thank Gupte sahab for the film. I must also thanks Stanley's classmates. Its not easy to act, and that too when you are a small kid. These kids, wel, were mindblowing. And at the end, I have to thank Partho, our Stanley. Maybe one day when you grow up ,and watch the film, you will really understand what you have depicted on screen. Til then, enjoy the innocent childhood you have. Becase to be fair, most children in this world, don't have it.

This is my Stanley Ka Dabba review. I have re-read it, and honestly, I think its no good. But I don't want to change it. So folks, read it. Watch the movie, and lemme know if you agree.

"Tere Andar bhi kahi,
Chhupkar baitha hai kya,
Koi STANLEY?"

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Mutant Chronicles: X-men : FIRST CLASS
by Korak Datta on Sunday, June 12, 2011 at 2:09am


X-men First Class fell into that one hole that a prequel or a sequel often falls into.. Trying to tie up all the knots, and plug all the holes in the storyline.

It was enjoyable while it lasted(2 hours + some), but now that I look back into it, it was a tad bit disappointing.

Action sequences are good, some scenes are nicely done(technically, scenically, or with feelings). Magnetos rise is a thrilling ride(an I kinda agreed to his reasoning.. call me a traitor)..

But the whole theater went crazy in 1 scene.. 2 seconds on screen, and we know who is the real star of X-men.. Wolverine. wow.

Watch the movie if you are a fan, and can handle small disappointments..


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My review - Green Lantern
by Korak Datta on Wednesday, June 22, 2011 at 2:04am


Disclaimer: I am a comic-book loving, video-game gazing boy of 25 who has 2 hot wheels miniatures on his office desk.


That said, let me come to my review of "Green Lantern" (translates to a very funny hindi term).

Well, the movie has a lot of Corporate lingo - it has words like job description, behavior patterns of company managers who think too much of themselves, you know what I am getting too.
What it also has is some stylized set-piece action sequences - some of which use the 3-D tech to highlight the green will-power energy, or the sun beams, for that matter. Some of the sequences though, are done up in a way that they look right out from a in-game video [Is a green lantern game out already? maybe they jut did the video in it ;-) ]. But wth, this is content right up my alley of taste.. So great.
As for the story, its not as bad as the reviews said it was(at one point I was contemplating not going for the movie at all, after reading some of the stuff out on the net).
It has a cocky pilot-splitting image of his fearless dad, a woman leader of a company(his chaddy-buddy n love interest), a pal of a software geek, a metamorphosing once-human depressed scientist with evil powers, the thriving on fear villain, and a lot of weird aliens. What else do you need? Well, thrown in for bonus I guess, are nice punch lines too.
So guys, comic-geeks, fellow cartoon fans, this green lantern may not match up to the 'brother' we enjoyed so much in JLA, but cut the guy some slack, will you! Go watch it and enjoy a nice time out.

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Shaitani times
by Korak Datta on Tuesday, June 28, 2011 at 2:26am


Starting out on a very unrelated note at first:
When I heard the soundtrack of the now-famous "Slumdog Millionaire", wasn't really impressed. It was ok-ok stuff. But only after I experienced the magic on screen did the brilliance of the music hit me, how well it picked up from where our visual sensations took leave, and engulfed us in the movie sensation with the sound and score from Rehman.


This was a similar case with Shaitan. Only 1 track, Nasha, had actually sounded interesting in the audio release. But only once after I watched the movie late on Sunday night did I realise the beauty of the whole album.
The movie had a tight script(most of the times), and added with great camerawork and editing, was able to create its own space in my mind.
It has been compared many-a-times with the unreleased Paanch, Anurag Kashyap's first movie. Maybe that's why it attracted him. And thank god it did, or otherwise the movie-lovers would have missed a movie which falls short of reaching epic proportions not by much, considering its the first film from the director. He knows what he wants, and how to get it. Yes he does.
There are gut-wrenching moments, and also frames filled with camaraderie, and pain. There are signs of strengths, and weaknesses, and fragility, from all the characters - proving yet again the line from swades: Man se raavan jo nikale, Ram uske man me hai, although in a pretty crooked way.
The cast acts commendably, though I would like to see Kalki doing something different next time, Her innocent/naughty/daring character is one she has pulled off with aplomb before too. The other actors, especially DASH, are good. Rajiv Khandelwal does justice to his role.
2 sequences that make this movie memorable fr me:
1. Action/Chase sequence, when the cops find the German girl's body, parallely showing the friends running off from trouble. I knew these are different occurances, happening independently. But still, some how, I just kept believing, its not. Thats what great cinematography can do.
2. Khoya khoya chande remix is so so so damn cool(sadly, its not in the audio release).

Watch this if you can stand blood, gore, and deadly catch-phrases.

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Punched - Sucker Punch
by Korak Datta on Wednesday, June 29, 2011 at 2:19am


The story could have been better, but hell, you can't really control your imagination, and this movie is about imaginations. And I guess that's why the movie spins out of control.

The visual effect, most of them, are well done. How it never shows any of the misfortunes of its characters, and still conveys the feeling to us is good.

The creative team has grown up on a lot of fiction, mythology, fantasy, comics and gaming! Evidence? 1) Dragon scene - out of Harry potter, 2) Ogres - LOTR, 3) The train - Batman, 4) The sniper - out if a damn good sniping FPS, 6) Samurai fight - great version of any samurai stylized fight game, 7) Steam-powered undeads in WWII and humanoid robots- So DC comic-ish. And I can go on and on.

Inception had levels of dreams, this one has a multitude of levels of imagination from the lead female protagonist, who escapes into her make-belief world to escape harsh truths of her life. To be fair to the creators of the movie, we only figured out 1 level by the time the movie was half done, and the 2nd level was comprehended only at the end, so a good job done.

Only drawback I see is that it had huge potential that was not truly explored, but well, what was served at the end was good too.

How I Met Your Episode #3: THE ILLUMINATED FLAGPOLE - by Shanky

THE ILLUMINATED FLAGPOLE


Kids, when I first joint my last school, in 2004, I had already spend three years in the Banyan City. My new school was creating waves everywhere. On the 7th day of the month that comes between MnM, I entered my new school. Well......very soon it became my second home, but more on that later.

I was an outgoing kid and never had problems making new friends. I joint as a seventh grader. In those days, there used to be four sections per class. I was put into the 7-C. My first few days were spent in exploring the school along with a couple of other newbies rather than interacting with the old students. One such day, I was walking behind (read:stalking) this attrociously pretty girl (well, I was hoping that she being a senior would take me to some hitherto unknown corner of the school. I had no other intentions), when she suddenly turned around. I later (after 30 seconds) found out that she had to go back to class, but my heart skipped a beat, wondering if the stalker (me) is now going to be 'punished'. (Punishments are of two kinds you know :P). I turned around and quickly retraced my steps, when suddenly I ran into a...lighthouse? nah....electricity pole?.....nah......an illuminated flagpole (found the right phrase five! Whaddup!). He was a boy (well, still is), thin as an anorexic twig, tall (well...taller than me). It was a dark corridor but the twig-boy with a baby face seemed to be holding a torch in his mouth. But in fear of being 'punished' by the hot-senior girl, I denied my brain the chance to ponder over why the twig-boy (or for that matter anyone) would walk around with a torch in his mouth.

As fate would have it, I saw him several times in the coming days. I soon found out that it wasn't a torch. They were his teeth. The twig-boy was always smiling. I have not seen him not smiling till date.

On my 8th day in school, I had a Social Studies class in the Social Studies lab (oh yes, we had a lab for SS). It was there that I found out that The Illuminated Flagpole was after all my classmate from the A Section. He was notoriously famous for always showing his set of 32 dazzling teeth (I wonder whether he uses white/ivory varnish to brush his teeth), eating more than most but still remaining like a twig and for well....always smiling that crooked smile. He was also an accomplished soccer player, who 'boned' everyone and stole the ball away and even after being violently pushed by his hefty comrades on the field, stood up smiling and letting loose a volley of well-chosen and deeply embedded-in-the-brain(stringing together old words to make a new phrase five!) expletives. Of course, while smiling. Photographs he would care to be a part of were priceless. His teeth lent an earthly glow to everyone standing around him. I also found out that he was quite popular among members of all 3 sexes and fell into the category of 'true friend.'

The years piled on. I never quite spoke to my friend, the Illuminated Flagpole since we were seemingly in different worlds in the same universe. It used to be just acknowledging nods and sometimes 'We're both walking in the same corridor fives."

But then came the year 2009. 11th Grade. You see kids, in those days, students were assigned a class in 11th grade on the choice of their 5th subject. Me and your Uncle K...i mean, Twig-boy both chose C++. I cannot recount how the next couple of months flew by, but suddenly, we were friends, fellow Manchester United fans and fellow class-wreckers. I knew he was always there alongside me, be it for bunking a boring class or for asking the teachers for a free period. Playing soccer with him was a different experience altogether. He learnt the lesson that being a boner (I said being, not getting) in soccer doesnt help with flesh-covered monsters like me(I was fat back then). Whats more, we had largely similar interests in both sports and music. In food, he ate just about everything. He had a pretty dumb and pretty girlfriend, owing to which the Illuminated Flagpole became one of our favourite verbal dart-boards. But with all this, there was an underlying realization. I had a new friend. Somebody around whom you can't get bored. Someone you can trust to make your life hell for you if you make a fool of yourself. Someone you can trust with secrets (provided you know a few of his or else he'll take every opportunity when you're relatively isolated and tease you till you feel like tearing at your hair). Someone who, along with you can always come up with multiple meanings for things (boner has two meaning. So does lateral thinking). Someone without whom my school wouldn't have felt like a second home, nor would tuition have been as much fun as it was.

This kids, is the story of How I Met Your Uncle Kunal. To me, he still remains the Illuminated Flagpole. Our friendship has grown since then. He has taught me that every cloud has a silver lining. If you're to visit a funeral ever, remember to take him along. For even in front of the body of the deceased, he shall flash that smile of his, and shall treat you to a bottle of Mountain Dew on your way back home. Kunal, if you're watching this, more about you AND your girlfriend later. Cheers five!

by Shanky
http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1272952552

Hind Mahasagar ki sair (A trip to Indian Ocean)

Hyderabad has been a city of firsts for me.
My first job, The first promotion, First exposure to corporate culture, The first brush with death and loss, My first monetary independence, my first professional theater attendance, etc etc etc.

Today, there was another first added to this list.

Today I attended my first music show.
And it was a great one.
I went to see Indian Ocean Play in front of a packed house at the Hard Rock Cafe at GVK1, Hyderabad.
The band had a look I would have never imagined, 5 people! But well, life moves on. It has to, right?
So, when I walked in, I was a little confused about what to expect.
I saw a lot of people, outside and inside, cramming up every bit of space inside the cafe.
Then, as a moment passed, I saw Amit Kilam walk right past me, murmuring his Excuse me-s and Sorry-s as he waded through the crowd.
Then came Rahul, who walked right into the smoking box as people stared, shook hands, and said Hi-s n Hello-s.
Susmit was nowhere to be seen(well, he is the lonely serious types, right?).

So as the crowd started getting impatient, the band members took their place on stage.
From the left, Drums(Amit), Bass(Rahul), Acoustic(Susmit), Tuhin(Tabla/percussion) and Himanshu(vocals).

They started out with their (probably) the least known song, Kya Maloom(Kandisa).
And after that, I had no IDEA what happened for the next couple of hours. They played from all the albums, the cart toppers Kandisa, Hille Le and Ma rewa, along with the instrumentals from the first album, and new tracks from the new album(16/330 Khajoor Road - available for free download for another month on their website).

I recorded audio and video, and clicked photos, but what I was doing the most was getting lost, sometimes in the Serenity of tones emerging from Susmits guitar, sometimes in the madness emerging from Rahul. Amit the shy star came out a couple of times from behind his bunker, to play the gub gubi and the clarinet. Also the new guys are worth a mention. Himanshu has picked up the songs well ,and brings his own persona into the songs. Tuhin is good, and a tad bit younger than the rest. The jugalbandi-s on stage that Rahul, Amit, Susmit and Tuhin did were unbelievable.

Amit at his starry best, Rahul at his wittiest, and Susmit calm, composed and lost in thoughts as usual held our attention. Tuhin and Himanshu matched the passion with their performances, making it a night to remember.



!!Aseemda, you were missed!!

Ghosts

Like shadows they circle,
Like panthers they pounce,
If you are hit, don't fall, stay up!
Because if you fall, thats the end of it all.

You get down on your knees,
Beg to them to go,
They retreat a little,
You sigh!
They pounce again!
You are the mouse,
They are the cats!

Do you want them to go?
What will you do then?
What will be your purpose?
Becase you are the mouse,
They are the cats!

Sometimes, when you have a drying wound, we can't stop ourself from volantarily scratching at its sides. Some would say, "I'm just checking if it has dried". Are you really? Or do you like the controlled quota of pain that you are calling upon yourself? Sometimes we do like pain, don't we? But is it really an intelligent move to live on the edge, and to put oneself in a position to experience pain?
Well, I have been a good boy all my life. Don't get me wrong, and no offence to people who chose different paths, but my path in life was always kinda simple. Eat, Sleep, Study, Read, Play games, Chat with friends. Thats all.
Then one day, the list expanded. Came in "Fall in love, Be in love". It was still nice, actually better than the rest of my life before that day. And one fine day, the list got a little short, as the new items were dropped. Added "Feel the pain".
And that item still remains. But slowly when the pain starts receding, the inner conciousness forces a response, to bring back the pain. And the cycle continues.
Till when? How many iterations?

do i=1 to EndOfLife;
pain=infinity;
do j=1 to (infinity-10);
pain=pain-j;
end;
if i eq EndOfLife then DIE;
end;

When Tanuji wedded Sharmaji

What does a righteous man do when the girl he loves is getting married to another guy(one you know, and are friends with with) and you are the facilitator in that marriage(more like, a witness)? hmm? hmmm? Well, you take pride in small victories, like having a pen and yet not handing it over the the marriage registrar, when his pen stops working. Kinda silly, right? But also kinda tells you how helpless you are right at that moment, right? Well, this sums up the movie pretty well. A helpless, righteous man, who can't decide should he do the right thing, or get married.

In its sometimes silly and mostly vulnerable moments, the movie succeeds in touching you, may it be through the puppy-love-stricken looks by Madhavan, or the laughters of Kangana(Mostly silenced behind some decent music). [SPECULATION ALERT: Due to some reason, I think she had more dialogs, but the director decided that the music is much better to convey the emotions, at least better than Kangana's dialog delivery.]

As was unanimously decided by our 2 member panel, Priyanka would have been a far more convincing choice, but well, if you don't try, how will you know that this is not Kangana's part to play. She does seem to fit into the movie during her moments of anger and rebellion, but otherwise, not really.

But forget all of that, and meet Sharmaji, alias, Manuji. A Doctor(well, he makes pacemakers. What kind of doctor does that? I donno for sure.) settled in London, who comes to India because his parents insist that he gets married.
And, straight from Delhi Airport, he is shipped off to Kanpur to meet a drunk girl, who he falls hopelessly in love with, and is rejected by the girl on the grounds that she already has a boyfriend. But as luck would have it, they meet again, and get a chance to know each other. And, of course, he's a righteous man, so he does the right thing all along till the end of the film.

Good performances by the supporting cast, special mentions to be reserved for Deepak Dobrial as 'Pappi'(Bolke batau ya deke) and Swara Bhaskar as Payal, and of course Jimmy Shergil as Raja(who was too under used! but proves he still can give the angry young man looks!) make this movie quite watchable. At some moments, you might feel the plot to be little too convoluted and contrived, but well, its a Hindi flick after all.

Forget everything, and go watch it for Madhavan, who delivers a good performance.
And thats how, TANU WEDDED MANU!

The tears in their eyes..

Have you ever been to a 4D theater? Well, I haven't.
But this is what I assume its like.
There's a movie that plays, and you are subjected to the physical changes(at least some of them) that are happening in the film. Of course, you also understand the changing emotions in the film. So, I would imagine that one would think that he/she is actually a part of the movie. But then, he/she would have no power to do anything to change the course of the film itself.

I think I am feeling that right now, though I am not in the middle of a film show in a 4D theater.

Parents mourning the death of a dear daughter who was to be married this year.
An elder sister accusing herself, feeling guilty of getting married first and moving away.
A soon-to-be bridegroom, mourning the death of his decade old love story.
And me, loosing a sister, whose marriage was planned to be the grandest of all, where all of us would meet, after such a long time, to relive our past.
And as most plans planned by us go, this one also ended up in tatters, lying in ruins.
What do you say to console everyone?
How do you console them, tell them to be practical and move on with their lives?
How do I say, "Its gonna be alright", when I know its not going to be?
How do I hide my tears, and wipe of the tears in their eyes?