Nine reasons why I liked Gangs of Wasseypur

(And why i am waiting for part 2)
!!!Spoiler alert!!!!

1. Transition of cultural icons (1941-1985) - Whether it was obvious references to Amitabh Bachchan, be it Fazlu's comment on Zanzeer v Deewar or women blowing kisses in cinemas, Sardar Khan announcing his threat to Ramaadheer Singh to the tune of Mithun's iconic Kasam Paida Karne Waale ki or opening scene circa 2004 showing perhaps the most overated saas bahu serial of our time. However clincher was hero worship of a docoit - "Sultana daaku" in pre independence days in village chaupals a la modern day Robin Hood.

2. Transition of music - Ik Bagal sung by Piyush Mishra is quite reminiscent of the numerous Mukesh songs in 50s. On the other Manmauji is sung in naughty 60s style. 80s are signed off by more electronic “Jiya ho” by ethereal Manoj Tiwary. In addition to these are folksy “Womaniya” and street number in “Aey Jawano’ which transcend eras but Sneha Khanwalkar (who apparently is 4th woman music composer in hindi film industry) has made sure that her music score mirrors the changing times of story weaved around 4 decades.

3. Myth of a monolithic muslim society in India – movie clearly shows fissures not only along Shia Sunni but also a class/ethnicity based divide of Qureshis v Pathans.

4. Pre and Post Independent India – Hardly anything changed for the worker class, be it wages or working conditions, which is a complete contrast to urban middle and upper classes that saw their much wider changes (and opportunities) in their lives.

5. References to sex in living room – as opposed to hindi movies treat this subject either in form of hyper-gyrations of item numbers or almost stupefying shot of two flowers converging as a visual metaphor for coitus. When Nagma gets pregnant, she finally gives in to her husband’s urges and give a reluctant permission to ‘shop’ around. Nice refresher to some of the ignorant people in our midst who have no empathy for either truck drivers (and their wives back in villages).

6. One Bihari culture – A Muslim (Badru Qureshi) gets his daughter’s wedding invite printed in Hindi, replete with a “sher” in devanagri script. Though muslims are shown to be living in ghetto like colonies, convergence of language, culture, clothes (most muslim women are shown in saree) is quite interesting

7. Its all about the economy stupid – Although overarching theme is about hatred and revenge, characters are not chasing each other in Sunny Deol style. As is shown by Sardar Khan’s transformation from being a crude goonda to a strongman who usurps a natural resource (water reservoir in the area) and creates a hegemony by supplying fish to a population whose demographics are changing (from Bihari to fish eating Bengalis).

8. Subtle references to inflation from bounty of 11 rupees in 1941 for a dacoit to “meher” of 1 lakh rupees in 70s.

9. And Last but not least – Hunter. Chutney music is such a refreshing change from overdose of Punjabi funk sounds of the day. With luck, we may see more Bihari musicians from Carib islands, Fiji and even Suriname (Dutch Bihari anyone?)

She never cried

My earliest memories of my maternal grandmother (beeji) were eating her vegetarian savories, her mild reprimand of my handwriting and her 40's style spectacles.

She was a typical immigrant from West Punjab, Kasur to be exact. They had lost everything in Partition and then after coming to Delhi, she lost more. Her husband died when she was in late thirties. Story goes that she started operating coal trading business from walled city premises in Delhi, turned around a sinking business and when her children started getting married, sold the business away. At slightly less than 5 feet, with small build that she had, I still cant visualize her working in a coal trading shop, let alone managing the entire business from manpower to trade deals to procurement. But my beeji was tough as steel, strong willed woman who seemed rooted in her belief that education is the only way for her children to get out of the rut that circumstances that forced them to be in.

Misery did not leave her after her children got married off and an estranged relationship with her son ensured that she was forced to live with her 3 daughters, in turns. It is ironic that a person of her caliber could not avoid financial dependence but then more astute people have been guilty of gaffe or two. This was her sole blemish as far as i can remember.

As a grandparent, she was awesome. She could teach me and my cousins all subjects till we were in 5th standard. She had studied till 8th (she was born in 1919) , but I can bet my life that she could have easily been a post graduate in these times. She kept a sharp eye on our studies - her constant reprimand was - "saare majboona (subjects) wich number change laine ne" which was in response my asymmetrical report card which always showed variance away from languages.

Born into a progressive khatri family, she was more of spiritual person than a religious one. I did not see her spending time in front idols, instead she would wake up at 4 and meditate silently. Though she did not articulate it, she to my knowledge was a firm believer of faith being a private matter. Till the day, I find her to more progressive than the next generation or for that matter one after that.

Her last few years were very miserable, she was diagnosed with Alzheimer's. Slow but steady decline into dementia followed. It was very ironic to see her lose control, especially since I had always seen her composed and firmly in command as far as her life was concerned. She used to tease me that I had got cavity in my molar at the age of 21 while she had full set of 32 at 80.

In 2007, she quietly passed away in my mother's arms.

I was not around, and I wept like a baby on her "chautha". I do miss her much, but I do not cry whenever I think about her. Just as she never cried when faced with adversity in her life.

Movie Review - Shaitan

If you love cinema of Tarantino, Guy Ritchie and always wanted to see how counter culture in an Indian city looks like, this movie will not disappoint.

Lot of people will try to compare it with Dev D - another favorite of mine. Similarities are palpable, though soul of the cities (Delhi and Bombay) make a crucial difference. Twenty and Thirty year olds have been guzzling western cinema to watch mind bending, counterculture and any thing which falls under an overarching dysfunctional genre. Here comes our savior, setting is desi, relevant and most of all very realistic.

Kalki is as usual is surreal, while other female in the pack Sheetal Menon does not do bad job. But the most badass of the characters is played by Shiv Pandit - waiter, crack dealer, the only urchin amongst the upper class brats. Getting Rajat Barmecha to play a teen coke dealer in making is also superb. Highest point of the movie comes in second half with Tarantino like gunfight with

remix of Khoya Khoya Chand playing in the background.

Dont watch the movie if you dont like gore, blood and dark characters. For the rest of us, this movie is a godsent present. Hope Bejoy Nambiar (Director) give us more such gems in future.

Amen to that.

Sitting on the left corner of the Auto I noticed...

A biker, caressing his hands on the chrome and taking a good look at the journey ahead. And I wondered if I would ever follow my dreams.

A retired man, sitting on his balcony with a dozen newspapers around him to read. And I wondered if he has enough money or I would ever have enough time.

School children crossing the road in their dark brown school uniforms, eager to take on whatever comes today. And I wondered if they will play during their games period and whether school has a library or not.

Construction for a multi-storeyed building going on at full swing with eastern immigrants getting into their act. And I wondered if they will make my home one day as well.

We were waiting for an unusually long time at a red light. And I wondered if i have waited longer than required for things that do not matter.

Driver's photo identity card which pictured him in his best clothes. And I wondered if lanes in his locality are as wide and as clean as this road.

Sitting on the left corner of the Auto, I wondered if I would notice so much if she was besides me.

Ek akela is shahar mein..

Some of the side effects of living alone away, in a hotel for something like 7 months out of last 9-10 months-

• Addicted to watching CNN, becoming a die hard Fareed Zakaria basher
• Eating tonnes of snacks, drinking kilolitres of diet pepsi - becoming Shop n Stop's loyal customer
• Sifting through deals2buy, dealnews, dealsofamerica etc etc and end up buying useless stuff
• Hurling expletives when alone in room at people from office
• Making sure than sofa springs are subject to intense cycle fatigue from butts
• Overusing skype
• Trying to find that perfect song on Youtube that will act as lullaby tonight and everynight
• Taking clean bed, toilet, bath for granted
• Actually started liking some of the microwavable food
• Almost losing the concept of acting like a host to friends
• Searching for 16 quarters every sunday night for laundry and drying clothes
• Ironing linen shirts early monday morning

Sigh! It better be worth something in the end...

Errata

Song below is Rabbi's Bilqis. I watched him perform this live (in a Bangalore music store) when he was promoting his album. I think this is one of the most topical songs ever written, without any metaphoric blankets that other artistes chose to wear. Ofcourse i am leaving out commercial/gen xyz wallet share mongrels out of the equation here.

Jinhe naaz hain hind par woh kaha hain..

Mera naam Bilqis Yakub Rasool
Mujhse hui bas ek hi bhool
Ki jab dhhundhhte thhe vo Ram ko
To maen khadi thhi, rah mein

Pehle ek ne puchha na mujhe kuchh pata thha
Dujey ko bhi mera yehi javab thha
Fir itno ne puchha ki mera ab saval hai ki

Jinhe naaz hai hind par vo kahan the
Jinhe naaz hai vo kahan hain

Mera naam Shriman Satyendra Dubey
Jo kehna thha vo keh chukey
Ab padhey hain rah mein
Dil mein liye ek goli

Bas itna kasoor ki hamne likha thaa
Vo sach jo har kisi ki zuban thaa
Par sach yahan ho jatey hain zehreelay

Jinhe naaz hai hind par vo kahan the
Jinhe naaz hai vo kahan hain

Mujhe kehte hain anna Manjunath
Maine dekhi bhatakti ek laash
Zamir ki beech sarhak Lakhimpur Kherhi

Adarsh phasa jahan naaron mein
Aur chor bharey darbaron mein
Vahan maut akhlaq ki hai ik khabar baasi

Jinhe naaz hai hind par vo kahan the
Jinhe naaz hai vo kahan hain

Mazha nau aahe Navleen Kumar
Unnees june unnees bar
Unnees unnees unnees unnees
Unnees baar

Unnees unnees unnees unnees
Unnees unnees unnees unnees
Unnees unnees unnees unnees
Unnees baar

Looto dehaat kholo bazaar
Nallasopara aur Virar
Chheeno zameen hamse humhe
Bhejo pataal

Jinhe naaz hai hind par vo kahan the
Jinhe naaz hai vo kahan hain

Maan gaye Mughal E Aazam

Easily one of the worst movies that I saw (Oops, Goonda (Prabhuji), Anth (Suniel Shetty dubbed by someone else are other gems in my list).

So why did cast comprising of Kay Kay, Rahul Bose and Paresh Rawal fail?

Consipiracy theory 1 - Rahul Bose sabotaged the movie since he did not want "filmmakers" to believe that he and Mallika Sherawat are a great pair after that freak "Pyar ke side effects".

Consipiracy theory 2 - Kay Kay torpedoed this movie since he wanted Celina J as hottie instead of Mallika (remember bomb called "Silsile"

Consipiracy theory 3- Mallika believed she and Rahul were a great pair and worked hard at it.

Same2Same

I noticed him for the first time while we were together boarded a dimly lit bus from suburban Tokyo to Narita airport. I had not slept for last 24 hours, largely due to anticipation of going back to India after 8 months. I was looking forward to getting some sleep in plush seats of Keisei line loco and came armed with my new ipod as well. But something about this person made me feel as if i had travelled all 5000 miles in few seconds. Whether it was his 80's suitcase (with S.M written on the handle) or his golden brass buttons on blue blazer, something told me he was much closer to home than anything on that bus. His cap too reminded me of endless middle aged gentlemen in Delhi who would venture out in biting north indian winter for their chartered buses enroute to performing daily chores as North Block clerks/section officers. Matter was finally clinched when conductor engaged him in a small talk - bingo! he had a jhangi/multani accent. I would now call him Mr Makhija (from S.M on his suitcase) from Geeta Colony.

Rest of the bus journey was pretty boring, i kept my ipod on shuffle mode since i was too tired to make any efforts in choosing the songs. Makhija too started snoring much to chagrin of a young looking japanese woman sitting directly behind him. Bus veered past concrete jungle that Tokyo is into green landscape of Narita and surroundings and landed us directly in front of Thai airways gate.

We took our bags and started walking towards yet to be opened economy class counters. As we waited for Thai airways employees to complete their little christmas celebration, Makhija appeared quite interested in starting the conversation. "Going to India?" he asked. "Yeah, and you?" "Bangkok jaa raha hoon" replied Makhija. His bald head shining in lustre from numerous christmas trees that adorned the concourse in that terminal.

We parted soon after he uttered his destination, booking counters were now open and we were soon ushered into security check.

I glanced at him while i waited for my turn, he was standing in "Foreign Passports" queue. Fortunately my work permit status ensured speedy immigration check and soon i was on my way to departure gate.

I had arrived full 3 hours before departure so some airport shopping was always on cards. However 20 odd kimonos, 5 liquour and endless souveneir shops later I was bored and tried to head back to departure gate.

There were 50 odd people already waiting near the gate. It was a usual sight that one comes across on any international flight. Excited first timers, sensible business travellers, hassled mothers of infants, even more hassled mothers of young children who are busy saving their kids from next catastrophe. Makhija looked at ease as well, perhaps this was not his first voyage to Bangkok in recent times. I was sitting few seats away from him, trying to kill minutes before boarding. He was watching TV on his japanese mobile phone - some NHK program, sight didnt amaze me. If you spend few months in Tokyo and commute on metro, you will come across many men and women flexing their eye muscles on mobile TV. Suddenly his phone rang, it was irritating ringtone, one that is associated with old MTNL landline phones. His neighbours were startled to say the least. Then something went wrong, somewhere between his TV app and his call - his phone tanked. Ringing didnt stop and neither did his TV. For a moment Makhija appeared lost. When his countless attempts to revive his phone failed, he went for the jugular.
Took out the battery and heaved a sigh of relief. Somewhere I felt relieved too. Was I embarassed as well?

Makhija turned on his phone and called the moron whose call destroyed decorum of our lounge.
It was a plainspeak - "Behanchod is time pe call kyun kari? .. Accha theek hain, Main dekh lunga, Abhi phone rakh" No Bon Voyage No Good Days. Sometimes I think we are the worst people when it comes to phone conversations, atleast Makhija was no exception to my belief.

Couple of announcements later, boarding started. Ritual of boarding includes standing at the end of a long queue with your passport and boarding ticket firmly tucked in your shirt pocket. Makhija was 4-5 spots ahead of me. Soon he reached the boarding counter and passed on his boarding pass to the Thai airways employee.

And then i saw his passport with "Islamic Republic of Pakistan" embossed on the green cover while he waited for the lady to complete her drill.

Sadiq Mansoor was going to Bangkok and so was I, atleast enroute to my final destination.

Last Six Months have been spent in

Boarding DLR to Bank
Learning 10 words in Nihongo
Tube journeys from Heathrow to central London
Tube journeys during strike
Trying out Yakitori food in London
Evading Yakitori in Tokyo
Sunday window shopping in Greenwich village market
Guzzling Newcastle Ale
Fitting suitcase in a small Tokyo hotel room
Finding my way from Roppongi to Otemachi
Walking the streets of Kyoto - Especially Gion corner
River rafting
Roller coasting at Tokyo Dome
90 minute treks at Takao
Poising next to Nizomi - Bullet Train
Shedding inhibitions in Onsen at Nikko
Finding bargains in back alleys of Akihabara
Late night coffee sessions at AM PM store
Boarding last train on Fridays to Shinjuku/Roppongi/Shibuya
Boarding first train on Sat from Shinjuku/Roppongi/Shibuya

DeckHeads all

Whenever i get a chance to meet some of my peers working in other companies/industries, coversation is usually two dimensional - gossip about job switching in group and bitching about the fact that we are all Powerpoint coollies.

Its the latter that fascinates me. On an average day, i make/collaborate with others in my company to make presentation - mostly for internal use. Often these presentations are laden with figures, tables, images and almost prosaic text.

It is funny but the sheer size of information on the presentation is OBSCENE.

This is certainly contrary to what we were taught (sometimes on the job) about using much abused powerpoint presentations. I am sure most of the junta in the Pre Sales/Marketing/Product Management fields would agree with me. So why this blatant departure from obvious best practice. Answer lies in the use - for internal and extraneous (as in for others) purpose.
In plain words, someone ELSE is going to use them and it is going to be asset for the firm for the time immemorial.

So in a sense, what they actually need is a document (detailed to the last hilt). However a document is more difficult to review (frequent check ins and NY traffic) and is therefore less suited to a US/Client facing lifestyle.

Result - a confused sales support guy who unlearns all the virtues of using a powerful tool :)

Colonial Past

Its been 6 weeks since i have tasted salty fried doughnuts (read Vada) or a Rice/Carb tablet(read Idli) but strangely it is not food that i am missing here in NY. Infact its not even cricket, our consistent non performance in One days came handy.

So apparently it is a sport that India doesnt even excel in (read my sarci post below).

EPL is what is making feel so misty about other almost forgettable saturday evenings. Oh i miss watching those matches that come so close to basketball quarters/attack at all costs games :(

Phoosball Argentina could not win World cup again, i have been watching this crazy game since Italia 90 and they have disappointed an ardent fan in me time and again. But i am sure they ll be back, Messi will only grow stronger and cleverer, Requelme will be 30 and Tevez, well only uglier and craftier in South Africa. Brings me to Indian football scene these days, apparently we have a new coach who says that we need taller players (duh), and he is sure that he ll find 4-5 of such folks in North India. It has all come down to this! We are easily 130th on a list where apparently war torn ex Yugoslav republics are hitting top 20s easily. So story goes that Indian National team was in Canada where they were playing against world class teams in Vancouver White Caps and Cardiff city. We ended up third there. Competition was certainly tough, apparently Vanc WC were so desperate that they enlisted highly professional local street footballers to stop Indian juggernaut of five feet giants. I must also add here that third side Cardiff has long tradition in English football, albiet they have failed to make presence in EPL for decades now. Nevertheless there are going to be celebrations in Kolkata when Indian team comes back and hectic football season starts (yet) again. Man there is no other place when micro achievement is met with such enthusiasm. I still remember when Sao Palo club had come over to India with 4th or 5th string team and were beating India 4-0 at every center matches were held. And suddenly in a game someone scored (certain malnutrioned Bikash Panji I think, used to be India captain) with a seemingly impossible volley from 25 yards. My TV (middle class Texla model) started jumping up and down due to deafening noise in the stadium. Then came '92 and Star TV. I chose less pompous crowds of EPL and Serie A instead.

I miss

Janeway steering Voyager after a close escape frm certain death, Neelix' delta quadrant culinary skills, Kes and her unexplained disappearance, Seska's betrayal, Chakotay and his tattoo, Torres and Paris, Paris and Kim, Tuvok's rationality, Janeway's irrationality, Species 8472 and Borgs, Resistance is futile, Delta flyer, Time travel, Q and Q continuum, Seven of Nine and her memory flashes about Raven, Doctor and his idiosyncracies about being human and most of their journey back home.

Outlook - Microsoft or otherwise!
Just changed jobs, well job is not the word, I think organization or rather organization from whose account i draw my wages is a better one. I now am part of Sails and Mark-Keating (Oh those S&D classes and understandably challenged people) in an IT firm. So what has changed for me:

Am I working more, well if work is a function of number of keystrokes in a day, answer is yes. Also now I can relate my lack of sense of humour to utter lack of work in last few months, not that i have improved in last 2 weeks but i am getting there

Is it thought provoking? Yes, in a way but it also reminds me of how almost everything that an MBA does is quite similar to basic tenets of world's oldest profession, in terms of being customer focussed - not mixing personal with professional life which in other words means having none of former till you retire/burn out and die/take liberal arts.

Every morning I send this to atleast 4 morons hoping Read Receipt did not fool me the night before.

"Hi JackAss

I just saw your mail today, so did this call happen yesterday?

-Bumpkin
"

Eagles Farewell Tour 2005

I was standing
All alone against the world outside
You were searching
For a place to hide
Lost and lonely
Now you’ve given me the will to survive
When we’re hungry...love will keep us alive

PS Makes me feel like a romantic fool again
PPS For people who are in US this might be your last chance

OKTOBERFEST!!!!

Circa '99