Liquid Dance

Slumdog Millionaire- A lot has been said and written about it. I am probably the last one to join the party.

A recent article by Arindam Chaudhri made me write this post. It reads,

"When the West wanted Indians to embrace them and their companies to come to India and capture the lucrative markets, suddenly we had all the Indian women, some very beautiful and some not necessarily so, winning all the Miss Universe and Miss Worlds. Today, they are in a crisis and India is looking unstoppable despite its slums and poverty, and they are losing their businesses to us. Isn’t it the best time to paint India as the Slumdog Millionaire?? All in all, the film is nothing but an endorsement of an erstwhile imperial mindset of the West and its blinkered vision of India. An English master has made an Indian slumdog. Don’t even waste your time watching this film in the theatres. It sucks and there is nothing great in it as a film too."

The whole article can be found here.

Q) Is SM really a great movie?

Ans) A simple story, wonderful cinematography, breathtaking shots, enthralling music, great acting. If these are the ingredients of a good movie, then yeah SM is one. But then its far from great. Beyond its glossy package, its basically a typical Bollywood movie. Orphan brothers, hapless girl in difficult circumstances, evil-brother turning-good-at-end and even a Bollywood dance number. Its filled with cliches. But then the way Boyle has presented all of this is incredible. Within all the violence and adventures, theres one thing that binds this movie. Hope and Love. I watched it twice. :)

Q) Does SM distort the image of India in any way? Does it stereotype all Indians as Slumdogs?

Ans) No it doesnt. The protagonist of the film is from a slum. What do you expect to see? The Raj Bhawan? If I were to make a film on call girls in Florida and show their life throughout the film, it does not mean Floridan girls whores. Perhaps the racy cinematography, much like the City of Gods, makes SM feel like a documentary, but then its not. Its just a work of fiction. Yeah the violence in the children's life was too graphic but then we are not new to violence in slum films are we? Satya, Comapny anyone? As cliched it may seem, India is a diverse country.Where poverty and opportunities live side by side. This film is just about the dark side. If there was no objection to Mira Nair for making "Salaam Bombay", why then the dissing of SM. Is it because an "Westerner" has done so?

Q) If SM had been made by an Indian director, would it have gained the same appreciation?

Ans) Now thats a hypothetical question. I dont think any present Indian director would have been able to do justice to the story. When directors are cash-happy making movies like Golmaal and CC2C, I dont think any Indian director would like to venture towards making a film like this. And we cant blame them, can we? But considering that some exceptional Indian director had made the movie, I dont think the movie would have got all the international acclaim it has got now. But then isnt it natural? I mean, a movie is always made with a select audience in mind. How many regional films have you seen this year, even if they were mind blowing. None? Well, thats because they were not made for you. Similarly, a film by an Indian director would have been made for an Indian audience. Films like Children of Heaven are so popular inspite of being foreign language films because they are that good.

Q) Does the West love to see India as a Third World country? And was this film made to satisfy this morbid pleasure of theirs?

Ans) I dont think so. Yeah, there will be always be some stereotyping. Dont we stereotype the Americans as sex obsessed and morally weak? :P But again, the world has come a long way from seeing India as a land of snake charmers, elephants and slums. I remember a joke I once read on an American website. It read.

"Earlier when my kids didnt eat, I said to them, ' Eat kids, think of the million Indian kids who dont get a morsel'. Now when my grandchildren dont eat, I say, ' Eat kids, think of the million Indian kids who will snatch that morsel from you.'"

Only no American laughs at that joke now.

No reviewer has stated that he loved the movie because it showed India in a poor light. Its a "feel good" film, thats it. And its a shame that people like Arindam are so biased that they not delved into the underlying theme of the film and are just floating at the surface - Slums.

Q) Should we celebrate SM's success?

Ans) A lot of film personalities like Mahesh Bhatt have voiced that we should not celebrate SM's success because it is "their" film. Well I differ. As I said before, SM is basically a Bollywood film at heart. Danny Boyle has done a tremendous job in telling an Indian story in an universal way. A R Rahman has been nominated for 3 Oscars. Nearly the whole cast of the movie is Indian. Freida Pinto, an Indian model is getting worldwide recognition. Many Indians have worked for the movie. Lets celebrate for them. At a time when we brighten up everytime Aish is on the Cannes carpet and everytime Shahrukh rubs shoulders with Tom Cruise, why not celebrate SM's dream run. Atleast I would be the first one to clap if it wins the Oscars. :)

The Re-union

My name is Payne. Max Payne. They have killed my wife and my newborn daughter. With a double Uzi in my hands, I walk stealthily into the enemy's den. My health bar is nearly empty and I have got just 1 painkiller. Suddenly, I hear a loud noise, like the ring of a mobile phone.

PAUSE

Its Sunny.I reluctantly pick it up.

"Hi wassup?", said an excited voice.

"Hey Sunny, I am into the final stage of the game man. I had really gotten into the character. You better have some good news."

"Hell Yeah. You know whats day after tomorrow?"

"I dont know. Sunday?"

"Day after tomorrow is school reunion, dude. Everybody's gonna come."

"What the... You made me pause Max Payne for a damn reunion. Are you...Hey wait, does that mean,does that mean she's gonna ..."

"Yeah man. She's coming. I confirmed. Thats why I called you."

"You are the best, Sunny. But hey we are still in school. We arent gonna be invited. How..."

"Thats what YOU think." and he cut the phone.

I shut down the computer. Max Payne wont mind. He will understand. I went to my cupboard, took out the small red briefcase. On the top was a card , a Valentine's Day card. In clumsy handwriting, it read, "To Amrita". Yeah, she's the She in the story. But wait, let me just tell you guys about me, the He.

I have just passed my board exams. Yeah tenth boards. No, the results arent out and I am not quite confident they will be good either. I play basketball but my own teammates snatch the ball from me if I keep it for than 5 secs. I tried to get into tennis but they just made me pick up balls. Not quite good on the girl front either. I havent had a girlfriend since...well forever. Girls dont usually come near me. They think its my socks but the guys know its just bad breath.

For a best friend, I have got Sunny. Who in his convoluted way, thinks he is always right. Interestingly, I remember we became good friends over a fight. We were watching some English movie at a friend's house. There was a sex scene by the fire.

"Hey wassup with the guy. Why is he hiding his organ? He shows his ass but he clearly doesnt wanna show his weenie. I guess he is just small. Hell, if I had been in his position,which is a nice one actually, I would have shown the whole world what a big pee-pee looks like. I am large. Ha"

"Thats what YOU think." We stopped talking for a month.

So, the gist- I'm just average in everything. Well, its still good to know that half the guys are below you.

Coming back to Amrita, she was three years my senior at school. And she was really the most beautiful woman I had ever seen man, live ofcourse. Her shining black eyes never resting at one place, her dark hair bouncing as she climbed down those stairs, her wonderful smile as she laughed with her friends.

The briefcase contained every thing I possessed of her. The V Day card which I had never given her, a stack of detention notes signed Volunteer Amrita, her photos taken on a school picnic by Sunny, pretending he was taking my pictures while I gave funny expressions, her poems from our school magazine and many such small things. But below everything was a slam book. It was no ordinary slam book, my friends. Every page of the slam book was different but they were all signed by one person - Amrita. I had to ask all of my friends to get a slam book page signed by her. It wasnt easy. 29 different slam books were filled by all outgoing seniors, just to avoid suspicion. And among all those slam book pages, I chose the ones signed by her. The rest were ofcourse thrown away. So, this slam book I had was a compilation of all those pages.

I had never seen her for over a year. I had heard she was pursuing Medicine, learning more about the ventricles rather than the emotions. I always hid from her, thinking that she would hate the average me. The only time I had faced her was on the Farewell Day, when I gave her a red rose and fled away. But now the time has come to confront her. To say to her how much I like her. Ofcourse I have a definite advantage. I knew her fav color 29 times over. I know what she would do if she were God. This was going to be my day- the day of The Reunion, our reunion.

Fiction. To be continued.

My Days At School Part 1

With just a semester for me to graduate, I am a bit nostalgic. I decided to write about the wonderful days I had here at NIT Rourkela. But then, I realised it would be incomplete without describing about the exciting days I had at school.

I studied at two schools- HVB and De Paul, in the same city though different from each other in every way. And I guess I have had different experiences at both these schools. So, I have divided this into two parts. This part deals with my life and experiences at my first school- Harobino Vidya Bhavan where I read till class 6th.

HVB was special because-

1) They had a ridiculous uniform. White shirts- RED pants. As the children walked gaily on the streets all uniformed, they looked like mini bandwallahs. Ofcourse, I loved that as red was my fav color at that time and I loved the bands.

2) The canteen was a cement platform around a big Banyan tree where you could barter your paratha-achar with the other guy's bread-omelet.

3) The best of all- We call our teachers 'Aunties'. I spent a good many years explaining that they were more than just teachers to us. They were more like caretakers and it was more of a personal relationship than a professional one. While I was explaining that, I was thinking, "Yeah, whatever but Aunty?" I cant believe that I spent half of my school life calling my teachers Aunty.

4) Hindi was the official language in and out of the class as even some of the teachers spoke funny English.

5)It was my first school and obviously firsts are always special. In the words of one of my friends, I lost my edu-ginity over here. Though I dont remember the first day at school, I know that I cried a lot. Yeah, a lot.

6) My elder brother was in the same school and I blackmailed him whenever I got the opportunity. It was mainly for the remote.

7) I really thought it was the biggest school in town.

8)I made some really great friends here.

My mum says I was so good with alphabets and numbers as a kid that I directly got admitted to the Upper KG. I remember that I was good at maths and weak in rhymes. I tended to get the poems all mixed up. When the black sheep and little stars got mixed up, I remember I was asked to stand up on the bench. But I made such a sorry face that I was asked by the class teacher to sit down within the next five minutes.

While in class 2 or 3, I made some really great friends- Sanat, Subodh, Subhanarayan, Biswajit and our group always stuck together. At the same time, the Adam-Eve competition had started( I dont really know if Adam and Eve competed for something but it sounds nice). There was this group of girls-  Sarita, Rosalin, Madhu, Rudrani. I loved Sarita like anything during those days.  She was extremely beautiful with short hair, a cute face and lovely eyes. I have never talked with her after I left school but hope to someday. I don't know why but our group of boys always fought with the group of girls. But we had a nice way to fight. We played. A lot of games were invented. But Name, Place, Animal, Thing and Book Cricket( where you opened any random page of a book and the rightmost digit of the page no was your score) were a hit.

In the evenings, we(minus the girls) played street cricket, roof cricket, indoor cricket, outdoor cricket, every form of cricket conceivable. We went out on our bicycles for rides, sometimes in rain. Birthdays were obviously the most special occasion and we used to have a lot of fun. But somedays, we just sat down at somebody's home and killed time. It was on one such day that somebody asked us to talk with Rosalin over the phone on a dare. Everyone just dialled but when the phone rang twice, they just cut it. Ultimately, it was my turn and I actually talked to her. Unfortunately, her father picked up the phone. I asked for Rosalin, told her my name (she was a bit surprised) and then said that I had to confirm the timetable for mid term exam. The whole time, the time table was in front of me and she knew it. So, the next day, when we had a fight, she just stood and complained that I was calling unneccesarily and disturbing her. I stood up and said defiantly I dont know what she was talking about. In the end, the teacher believed me and said, "Yeah! you cant be sure while talking over the phone but am sure Sunil must not have done it." After the class, Rudrani came up to me and said," We know it was you, Good acting though." That day, I learnt an important lesson and have always used it afterwards - I'm a good liar.

I was a good singer at that time. I remember Shraddha Ma'am(sorry Aunty :( ) would often call me to the front and ask me to sing something. I sang starting from Pankaj Udhas' Ghazals to the latest Bollywood numbers. It was nice singing to the whole class looking bored and probably waiting for me to stop.

But my Good-Boy image was soon dying out. Once I called Sarita something bad( I dont remember what), and I was chided by the same teacher as the Rosalin episode. Sadly, I had to leave that school soon after that incident. The school was very far from my new home and also it was degrading day by day.

So in class 7th, I made a jump from HVB to De Paul School. My parents were nervous. Would I be able to cope up with the pressures in a bigger school? How would the course change(from CBSE to ICSE ) affect me? But the thing on my mind was - Friends. I will talk about my life at De Paul in the next part.

Tracking down some of my friends at HVB, I found out that some are working, some are studying, some even got married this year(at 20?! My parents need serious counselling).I realise I havent been a good friend all these days. The friends I cared for so much have just become some random anecdotes I write in my blog, some funny nicknames, their faces so blurred in my mind that I have to look at their stupid grins in my school photo album to remember. Sometimes, when I look at those young kids going to school in their colorful uniforms, I ask myslef if I was like them as a kid. Carefree and jovial. Now, everyone just seems to be in a race, running after their unslaked dreams. In this run, some get left behind,some choose different directions. And after sometime, I realise I am all alone. And I havent even realised the dream I was running after. With every passing day, I compromised with some facet of my dream. And in the end, I realised this was not the dream that I always had. But then I compromise for one last time and say this life will do. Perhaps thats why they are called dreams. Never meant to be realised, just meant to be chased and chased.

The Girl Without A Face

It must be around two years back. I was in class ninth then. The exams were over and the vacations had started. Unusually, it had rained sometime before. A cloudy grey sky and a silent cold breeze were most welcome on a sunny afternoon. The smell of the earth after the rain was intoxicating. The sun after much fight had fallen into oblivion. The leaves were moist and the flowers looked wonderful. I could not remain in the closed confines of my house and went out riding my new bicycle. It was my new-found hobby to 'discover' new roads and show them to my friends.

The road was wet and had high conifers on either side. It was empty but for some small birds chirping and laughing. After riding for quite some time, I saw someone. A boy? No. Her effeminate walk, long locks and pink dress suggested otherwise. She was like a magnet attracting me towards her. I had always dreamed about an angel wearing a pink dress with flowing laces holding a wand. Was this my angel? With the excitement and apprehension of seeing Santa Claus for the first time, I followed her. She had a fresh rose in her hand and was walking oblivious of everything around her- singing and dancing. I was in a trance. I forgot everything about myself and followed her. I lost count of how much time had passed but when I recovered, she was not there.

I cried a lot that night. What was behind that elusive face? Perhaps, I will never find out. I went for many days in search for her on that road. And then, I forgot. Well, that's life.

________________________________

For those of you who think I am sixteen, well I am not. I found this on a paper while cleaning my closet. It seems funny that I don't remember much about this incident. To tell the truth, I don't remember anything at all. I literally forgot. "Well, that's life." If it had not been for this paper, I would not even have known such an incident had happened. And God, I dreamed about an angel dressed in pink, what was I, a goddamn six year old. And " a rose, singing and dancing" , I guess that's the effect Bollywood can have on a child who has not attained puberty. Or has? I don't remember.

Gulzar and My Life

Was browsing through some of Gulzar's works on the net and found this one. Its so simple and yet says a lot...about life, about everything.

Udkar jaate huye panchhi ne bas itna hi dekha..

door tak haath hilaati rahi wo shaakh fiza mein

alvida kehne ko ya paas bulane ke liye