Monday, May 11, 2009

Sometimes...

Sometimes...

All you need is a patient ear,


Sometimes,

You want a hug, a warm embrace

 

Sometimes,

You need the hug, the warm embrace

 

Sometimes,

You want someone to say “It’s ok, tough luck”

 

Sometimes,

You feel cold, and want some warmth,

 

Sometimes,

You feel hot and tired, and need a cool calm,

 

Sometimes,

 you just want to be alone,


Sometimes,

you just don't, can't,


Sometimes,

you want to just go away with someone,


Sometimes,

you want someone to take you away,


Sometimes,

you want answers,


Sometimes,

you don't want to hear even a single question,


Sometimes,

you just want to break, out, free, away...


There are many such times, not sometimes, often... But there isn't that someone, just no one.

Thursday, April 30, 2009

Vote - its not your right, nay, its a responsibility

Voted for the 2009 parliamentary elections today morning.

Bad candidates, worse agendas, dirty campaigning, mud-slinging, horrible weather, neglected policies, broken promises, vote-bank politics, hate speeches, 'joota' attacks, delimitation, criminal backgrounds, bad actors turned crooked politicians, pseudo secularism... aren't excuses!

This isn't a privilege, for certain we've not earned it. It is a responsibility.

Go vote.

Sunday, April 12, 2009

Mee ShivajiRaje Bhosle Boltoy

Saw a Marathi movie after a long time today. "Mee ShivakiRaje Bhosle Boltoy".

Rather expected storyline. A hen-pecked and insulted maharashtrian, well, a 'maharashtriy', as the movie prefers to call 'em, one day gets fed up of all the insults and being treated like a dog in his own backyard.

The insults are rather exaggerated, the acting slightly over-the-top and the plots rather idealistic. But, what the heck, anything is better than "Tasveer",  now isn't it!

The movie revolves around the protagonist D.M.Bhosle. The man is a middle class bank clerk who gets nagged (and often overly insulted) by just about everyone. He is the stereotypical 'asmita haravlela' (one who has lost his identity) marathi manoos. To add to the hassles of daily life, is an unscrupulous builder, and his (rather long) array of yes-men. Here, I felt the insults were too exaggerated. Nowhere does the fish seller insult a buyer aloud regularly. And neither does a movie director tun away a girl after selecting her for her merit, just because she is a 'bhosle', a marathi, who supposedly can't carry off western clothes and has a vernacular tinge to her English. Nevertheless, as expected, one day he just can't take it anymore. He loses it!

Enter Chattrapati Shivaji Maharaj! Now this was a welcome change from the usual pathetic story lines dished out in marathi cinema. The Maharaj and his aide themselves appear in front of the protagonist Bhosle and guide him with the tonic of marathi 'bana'. Bhosle gathers his whiny act together, and decides to brave it out. Believe himself that he is part of the problem, and then try to fix it. Not just for himself and his family, but for the marathi manoos in general. To see how he does it, go watch the movie.

Some things here that really struck a cord, and some others that well, just fell flat.

Bhosle explains to the Maharaj that today's Mumbai is dominated by outsiders. The Sindhis andMarwaris control the business, the south indians control the food and restaurant businesses and the north indians have converted the civil services into their fiefdom due to rampant nepotism. The part where Shivaji explains to a distraught Bhosle, that the cause of this situation is the marathi manoos himself, really struck a cord. The crowd was literally 'pin-drop' silent. "Who stopped you from doing the same, Bhosle?" astutely questions the Maharaj off the protagonist. Who stopped you from doing business, from running hotels, and from entering the civil services. Not the sindhis and marwaris, not the udipis and not the bhaiyyas. Its our own inability, our own incompetance maybe, that has lead to this situation. "'Amchya shakha kuthe hi nahit' (we have no other branches) he mhanyat ucchata manoon kasa chalel?", he adds.

Though, I would accuse the movie of containing some stereotypes. The north indian taxi driver and the muslim tailor who are tenants in Bhosle's large bunglow. There is a part where Bhosle magnanimously makes sure that their interests are taken care of. He had explained how they too were as much 'maharashtiy' as him. Since they were born and brought up here, and their children study here in a vernacular medium school. Well, I just thought it was a ploy to distance the movie from the MNS's anti-bhaiyya taxi drivers plank. And, it worked too, to some extent. The typical 'Usman Parkar' bhai wasn't too convincing, at times even comical.

The movie also suffers from some over-zealous action stunts towards the end. That and the story in the latter part gave a feeling that the director just somehow lost his way, and wasn't sure what next to do.

Nevertheless, credit must be given for some excellent cinematography. My biggest complaint about recent marathi films has been the abysmal cinematography. The usual fare is too trashy to even merit a look, but even some great recent movies like 'Shwaas', have some very poor filming. See it and you can see the film quality change over scenes! But this one is a cut above them all in this respect. Excellent shots, a beautifully choreographed 'shahir' sequence, some crisp editing of Shivaji Maharaj's horse riding scenes that could so easily have overwhelmed the movie, and excellent film quality.

Personally, I thought the plot was.... ummm... well... can't really describe it. I'm sure though, that I wouldn't call it a good storyline. It definitely had a tinge of Munnabhai, but only up to the idea of a man visualising a famous historic personality. 

But there are some real lessons to be picked from the movie; at least worth the one watch.

Friday, April 3, 2009

Work-Life balance... is there anything like that??

Quite thought provoking, this...

Excerpt of a dialogue from "The Devil wears Prada"...

Nigel: Excuse me, will you adjust the attitude! Don' make me feed you to one of the models
Andrea: Sorry... it's... aaa... a busy day. And my personal life is hanging by a thread, thats all.
Nigel: Ah, well, join the club. That's what happens when you start doing well at work... Lemme know when your whole life goes up in smoke... that means its time for a promotion

Makes me wonder... "How True" I say... is there really something like 'Work-Life' balance. Or is that all just bullshit?

Thursday, March 26, 2009

Wasteful pursuits of an idle mind

Deepesh challenged me to this seemingly inane online game - Monkey Kick-Off. Sounds dumb, is dumb, but rather addictive - especially when someone challenges you, and you have nothing better to do but study.

Today I finally beat his score, so just had to go on record with this!!!

Beat that, buggers! (if you've got nothing better to do)

Friday, March 20, 2009

Evening glory

This is evening was unusually beautiful... Well, not unusually... Though the days have become blisteringly hot, with hot breeze blowing all day, the evenings are rather pleasant, and the sky is lit by the setting sun with myriad colours. I'm just not around in the evenings to see all that.

Nevertheless, I got a chance to go out today evening, and predictably so, my trusty camera was hanging by my side. It has been rather hot lately, and the clouds gathered today for a spot of light rain and some Evening Glory.





Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Tandem writing at its best!

This is one of the most hilarious stories I've EVER come across. I almost died laughing over this one... I got this some 4-5 years back, most probably over e-mail; so much so, that I can't even remember who sent it. Its a tandem writing exercise i.e. one person writes a paragraph, while the next one is written by another person.


THE STORY:

(first paragraph by Rebecca)


At first, Laurie couldn't decide which kind of tea she wanted. The
chamomile, which used to be her favorite for lazy evenings at home, now
reminded her too much of Carl, who once said, in happier times, that he
liked chamomile. But she felt she must now, at all costs, keep her mind
off Carl. His possessiveness was suffocating, and if she thought about
him too much her asthma started acting up again. So chamomile was out of
the question.

(second paragraph by Gary)

Meanwhile, Advance Sergeant Carl Harris, leader of   the attack squadron
now in orbit over Skylon 4, had more important things to think about
than the  neuroses of an air-headed asthmatic bimbo named Laurie with
whom he had spent one sweaty night over a year ago. " A.S. Harris to
Geostation 17," he said into his transgalactic communicator. "Polar
orbit established. No sign of resistance so far..." But before he could
sign off a bluish particle beam flashed out of nowhere and blasted a
hole through his ship's cargo bay. The jolt from the direct hit sent him
flying out of his seat and across the  cockpit.

(Rebecca)

He bumped his head and died almost immediately, but not before he felt
one last pang of regret for psychically brutalizing the one woman who
had ever  had feelings for him. Soon afterwards, Earth stopped its
pointless hostilities towards the peaceful farmers of Skylon 4.
"Congress Passes Law Permanently Abolishing War and Space Travel,"
Laurie read in her newspaper one morning. The news simultaneously
excited her and bored her. She stared out the  window, dreaming of her
youth, when the days had passed unhurriedly and carefree, with no
newspaper to read, no television to distract her from her sense of
innocent wonder at all the beautiful things around her. "Why must one
lose one's innocence to become a woman?" she pondered wistfully.

(Gary)

Little did she know, but she had less than 10 seconds to live. Thousands
of miles above the city, the Anu'udrian mothership launched the first of
its  lithium fusion missiles. The dim-witted wimpy peaceniks who pushed
the Unilateral Aerospace disarmament Treaty through the   congress had
left Earth a defenseless target for the hostile alien empires who were
determined to destroy the human race. Within two hours after the passage
of the treaty the  Anu'udrian ships were on course for Earth, carrying
enough firepower to pulverize the entire planet. With no one to stop
them, they swiftly initiated their diabolical plan. The lithium fusion
missile entered the atmosphere unimpeded. The President, in his
top-secret mobile submarine headquarters on the ocean floor off the
coast of Guam, felt the inconceivably massive explosion, which vaporized
poor, stupid Laurie.

(Rebecca)

This is absurd. I refuse to continue this mockery of literature. My
writing partner is a violent, chauvinistic semi-literate adolescent.

(Gary)

Yeah? Well, my writing partner is a self-centered tedious neurotic whose
attempts at writing are the literary equivalent of Valium. "Oh, shall I
have  chamomile tea? Or shall I have some other sort of F--KING TEA???
Oh no, what am I to do? I'm such an air headed bimbo who reads too many
Danielle Steele novels!"

(Rebecca)

Asshole.

(Gary)

Bitch

(Rebecca)

F__K YOU - YOU NEANDERTHAL!

(Gary)

Go drink some tea - whore.


(TEACHER)

*A+ - I really liked this one.*