Apart from whiskey and orange juice, there is another dreadful combination that comes to mind. The combination of being an introvert and a compulsive debater. If you are exposed to situations when you are forced to be alone, within earshot of groups of people, but aloof (any mode of long distance transportation, bars, in-law get togethers and new office desks have been personal experiences), u will know what I am talking about. Mostly what you hear, you file away with a superior mental smirk (god, these arseholes!!) and then maybe write in your blog..but sometimes your vocal chords just itch to get involved man! Today was a case to point.
I was in the FNPB (for the LAST time, it stands for Friendly Neighborhood Pauwa Bar) and the guys next table were discussing the recent Mumbai Catastrophe - The Closing Down Of Ladies Bars!!!!!!!!! Man u should have heard them! They were so passionate, it brought tears to my eyes...and how I wished, how i DEAR-FUCKING-LY wished I could share some of my opinions with them. A city (METROPOLIS!!) obsessed with ladies bars (glossary: naaaah..look it up in google) for about a year now...an entire government machinery went into closing 1500 bars and making 75000 female bodies more accessible, a city which after being totally shut down and rodgered by a day's rainfall, has gone back to its agenda of maybe converting mumbai into delhi...where the rape rate will be more than Freddy Flint's batting average this summer.
There is so much I wish to say to these guys..not only the guys mentioned above, but with guys who are 'sensible and balanced'..guys who believe that a girl who wears a mini skirt deserves to be eve-teased for example....i wish, i wish, i wish i was not so introverted.
And dont u practical, balanced arseholes tell me to 'stop going to FNPB-s if u r so disgusted'.....
What will I write about then?
Aug 30, 2005
The Alchemist
Finally got around to reading The Alchemist. Wonderful. There are passages that can bring lumps to throats of even cynical bastards like me. I am not as erudite as some of the bloggers i
have come across online, but what moved me was not only the simplicity but the language in which the simplicity was expressed. I had never heard of Alan R Clarke before, but i thought him to be no less than Paulo Coelho.
Coming to the point (my blog is always about MY point..i really dont care what happens in Bosnia, for example, if i dont have very definitive points of view about the same). Every book, movie, song, painting, whatever....becomes great if it has the power to tug at your heartstrings. And the more magnificient the work, I believe the more varied are the ways in which it can affect the person diving into it.
From the alchemist, what i took away was not the central concept - that some people are destined to do certain things, and if they have the courage to pursue their dreams then 'the whole world will conspire to make his dreams come true' (nagesh should have had the courtesy to mention the source when he included this line in Iqbal..as a 'serious' film maker, shouldn't it be his responsiblity to try to spread the WORD - things that have moved him?). What I took away was the other concept - live for the present. The past is meaningless, the future is not in your control, so fuck all that philosophy and take your life a day at a time, and make the best of it. My so called enlightened friends and bar mates can argue with me on this till Bush Jr learns the alphabet, but the crux for me was that he was describing the thinking of the nomads, bedouins and tribal leaders of Sahara. Those fuckers now snap their fingers and the Bushes and Clintons come running, while our Vajpayees and Manmohans with their 3000 years of heritage and culture go to the world bank with their bowls.
I am inspired. I was in my friendly neighborhood pauwa bar when I grasped this MAGNIFICIENT concept. I was watching Zee Music. Bips was looking gorgeous (dont get me started on her)..and since I have decided to live for the present, I am going to see No Entry tomorrow.
So, as the inimitable Cartman (South Park) will say..'screw u guys, i am goin' home'.
have come across online, but what moved me was not only the simplicity but the language in which the simplicity was expressed. I had never heard of Alan R Clarke before, but i thought him to be no less than Paulo Coelho.
Coming to the point (my blog is always about MY point..i really dont care what happens in Bosnia, for example, if i dont have very definitive points of view about the same). Every book, movie, song, painting, whatever....becomes great if it has the power to tug at your heartstrings. And the more magnificient the work, I believe the more varied are the ways in which it can affect the person diving into it.
From the alchemist, what i took away was not the central concept - that some people are destined to do certain things, and if they have the courage to pursue their dreams then 'the whole world will conspire to make his dreams come true' (nagesh should have had the courtesy to mention the source when he included this line in Iqbal..as a 'serious' film maker, shouldn't it be his responsiblity to try to spread the WORD - things that have moved him?). What I took away was the other concept - live for the present. The past is meaningless, the future is not in your control, so fuck all that philosophy and take your life a day at a time, and make the best of it. My so called enlightened friends and bar mates can argue with me on this till Bush Jr learns the alphabet, but the crux for me was that he was describing the thinking of the nomads, bedouins and tribal leaders of Sahara. Those fuckers now snap their fingers and the Bushes and Clintons come running, while our Vajpayees and Manmohans with their 3000 years of heritage and culture go to the world bank with their bowls.
I am inspired. I was in my friendly neighborhood pauwa bar when I grasped this MAGNIFICIENT concept. I was watching Zee Music. Bips was looking gorgeous (dont get me started on her)..and since I have decided to live for the present, I am going to see No Entry tomorrow.
So, as the inimitable Cartman (South Park) will say..'screw u guys, i am goin' home'.
On Suicide
Do all suicidals think 'If anyone ELSE was in my position, he would have committed suicide'? If so......I am in trouble man...
Aug 27, 2005
On Stephen King
The great thing about blogs is that you can prove your 'I told you so' s. Otherwise, most of these are dismissed when you are proved right in the long run. So here is one of those statements I wish to record for future proof.
Stephen King will get the Nobel Prize for literature.
There is incredibly stupid pre-formed misconceptions about this guy. I think its because of the movie adaptations that people see first and then form their opinions. Well let me tell you something. Its not possible to capture this guy's brilliance on celluloid. And there is no way one can capture his tremendous analogies in any screenplay. Things like 'good luck is just bad luck with its hair combed'..i intend to make a list of these analogies somewhere on this blog, there are zillions of brilliant ones, lines that bring out the goose pimples, or a twitch to the corner of your lips..
For the new reader (a virgin or someone who has started with the wrong book and have never gone back), here are the top 5 ones you should start with...and if you still dont fall in love....well i guess it does take all kinds to make a world..(the order is just for the reading sequence, does not reflect my opinion on the quality in any way):
1) Misery - brilliant, chilling, scary.....NOTHING to do with monsters and ghosts
2) Different seasons - you will understand what a great short story writer he is...again, none of the stories are about ghosts.
3) Desperation - fantastic..will scare your pants off..ghosts, monsters, ghouls, zombies galore.
4) Dark Half - again..incredible..breakneck thriller, with enough of spooks to keep u awake.
5) Needful things - observations of volcanic small town life..u will be able to identify with the brilliantly portrayed characters, whether u r from Calcutta or California.
Please let me know if i have been able to convert you..i will think the effort worthwhile..
Happy reading.
Stephen King will get the Nobel Prize for literature.
There is incredibly stupid pre-formed misconceptions about this guy. I think its because of the movie adaptations that people see first and then form their opinions. Well let me tell you something. Its not possible to capture this guy's brilliance on celluloid. And there is no way one can capture his tremendous analogies in any screenplay. Things like 'good luck is just bad luck with its hair combed'..i intend to make a list of these analogies somewhere on this blog, there are zillions of brilliant ones, lines that bring out the goose pimples, or a twitch to the corner of your lips..
For the new reader (a virgin or someone who has started with the wrong book and have never gone back), here are the top 5 ones you should start with...and if you still dont fall in love....well i guess it does take all kinds to make a world..(the order is just for the reading sequence, does not reflect my opinion on the quality in any way):
1) Misery - brilliant, chilling, scary.....NOTHING to do with monsters and ghosts
2) Different seasons - you will understand what a great short story writer he is...again, none of the stories are about ghosts.
3) Desperation - fantastic..will scare your pants off..ghosts, monsters, ghouls, zombies galore.
4) Dark Half - again..incredible..breakneck thriller, with enough of spooks to keep u awake.
5) Needful things - observations of volcanic small town life..u will be able to identify with the brilliantly portrayed characters, whether u r from Calcutta or California.
Please let me know if i have been able to convert you..i will think the effort worthwhile..
Happy reading.
Aug 6, 2005
My First Attempt at a Screenplay
Background: After my post about the "Mumbai Spirit" I racked my brains trying to come up with something that I like about this place. There is one thing actually. I love its ‘pauwa’ bars (glossary: bars that serve liquor in a bottle; lowest unit being 90 ml of whatever your poison is). There are a couple of reasons for that. First is the low cost. Second - the conversations. If I were a filmmaker I would have accumulated Oscar material by now. Criminals out on bail, corrupt cops, dons taking supari details (glossary: a Mafia hit) on the phone, ruined businessmen reduced from black label to DSP black, frustrated actors, satisfied gigolos – well, I have heard them all. I wish I had started this blog then, my screenplay would have been complete by now.
Setting: Titanic Bar and Restaurant (Opposite my office in Mumbai)
The situation so far: After a typically busy morning I am sitting in Titanic, nursing a pauwa (180-ml) of Royal Stag. In walks a group of 4 guys. 3 of them elderly, the 4th one is youngish. The youngish guy is called Rahul, the others will be referred to as X, Y and Z. After a lot of deliberation they order a pauwa of vodka and some lemonade. Conversation touches upon cricket, home appliances and problems with maids, while they finish their first pegs (180ml/4). That loosens up their tongues quite a bit and the fun starts.
Cast:
X – Marketing manager from some kind of an engineering firm. Typical sales guy, talks a lot, mostly crap.
Y – sales manager from out of town
Z – typical yes-man to X. Quite senior.
Rahul – freshly joined sales executive.
The Conversation:
Ran out of enthu. If I get one comment asking me to continue I will do so.
Setting: Titanic Bar and Restaurant (Opposite my office in Mumbai)
The situation so far: After a typically busy morning I am sitting in Titanic, nursing a pauwa (180-ml) of Royal Stag. In walks a group of 4 guys. 3 of them elderly, the 4th one is youngish. The youngish guy is called Rahul, the others will be referred to as X, Y and Z. After a lot of deliberation they order a pauwa of vodka and some lemonade. Conversation touches upon cricket, home appliances and problems with maids, while they finish their first pegs (180ml/4). That loosens up their tongues quite a bit and the fun starts.
Cast:
X – Marketing manager from some kind of an engineering firm. Typical sales guy, talks a lot, mostly crap.
Y – sales manager from out of town
Z – typical yes-man to X. Quite senior.
Rahul – freshly joined sales executive.
The Conversation:
Ran out of enthu. If I get one comment asking me to continue I will do so.
The Japs Are Crazy
If Gosciny and Uderzo had published 'Astreix In Japan' , I am sure we would have seen Obelix tapping his head and saying "These Japs are crazy". Several brushes with them while I was in Bangkok come to mind, but I will tell you about the one that stands out.
Me and Angshu had once gone down to our friendly neighborhood Gogo bar (glossary: watering holes where members of the stupider sex roam around and dance in their lingerie). There was this group of Jap tourists comprising of a young couple, a middle aged couple and a 2 year old toddler. They were generally drinking up a storm and pretty soon the middle aged woman passed out on the couch. While concerned members of the staff were attempting to revive her, the others happily continued whatever they were doing - the young couple almost making out on the couch, the father sitting with a beatific expression on his face with a hand far up a waitresses skirt and the kid roaming around the place. Pretty soon the dancing girls realised that no one was too concerned about the kid and he just might go out for a stroll. And since they were not allowed to stop dancing they did the only thing they could - took the kid along with them up on the stage. So there we were - sitting around a strobe-lit revolving stage, watching 20 odd gyrating girls in fluoroscent red underwear, a 2 year old revolving on the stage with a slightly bemused expression, an unconscious mother, a happy father who had by now migrated to pinching bottoms of anything in a skirt within striking distance and a drunk couple who were leaving very little to imagination.
Believe me man. These Japs are crazy.
Me and Angshu had once gone down to our friendly neighborhood Gogo bar (glossary: watering holes where members of the stupider sex roam around and dance in their lingerie). There was this group of Jap tourists comprising of a young couple, a middle aged couple and a 2 year old toddler. They were generally drinking up a storm and pretty soon the middle aged woman passed out on the couch. While concerned members of the staff were attempting to revive her, the others happily continued whatever they were doing - the young couple almost making out on the couch, the father sitting with a beatific expression on his face with a hand far up a waitresses skirt and the kid roaming around the place. Pretty soon the dancing girls realised that no one was too concerned about the kid and he just might go out for a stroll. And since they were not allowed to stop dancing they did the only thing they could - took the kid along with them up on the stage. So there we were - sitting around a strobe-lit revolving stage, watching 20 odd gyrating girls in fluoroscent red underwear, a 2 year old revolving on the stage with a slightly bemused expression, an unconscious mother, a happy father who had by now migrated to pinching bottoms of anything in a skirt within striking distance and a drunk couple who were leaving very little to imagination.
Believe me man. These Japs are crazy.
Aug 4, 2005
The 'Spirit of Mumbai'
There must be something seriously wrong with me. This is the conclusion that I have arrived at after failing to grasp the meaning of this magnificent and oft-heard expression. Not that it was through any lacking of effort on my part. Unlike my impatient and rigid friends (hi loky) or cousins (reading this koushik?), I had really tried for the last 7 years or so. The media, my wife, colleagues, neighbors all did their bit to educate me. They gave me examples, incidents, stories and facts that they said demonstrated this wonderful phenomenon. [4 pages deleted]. (I had started out giving examples but got slightly carried away).
Sometimes, when I have a quiet moment, sitting immobile in a bus in Sakinaka junction, waiting for the signal to turn green, watching at the rows of men squatting at the roadside with their dicks hanging out; at these times i sometimes wonder. Are Mumbaikars laughing at the expense of the rest of the world? Maybe this Spirit of Mumbai thing is the biggest hoax in the history of mankind, perpetrated by its 13 million people. Like when we were in college, after seeing a movie that was mind bogglingly bad, we used to tell all our friends about how great it was so that they would also suffer as we had suffered. Maybe these guys go home and have a huge laugh when they see people like us wading neck deep in water or paying 4 million bucks for a pigeon hole where the view comprises of a slum housing 14ooo people. I would love this to be correct explanation - at least it’s better than the alternative thought.
The alternative is scarier than any Stephen King novel i have read till date. Sometimes, late at night, when i am lying down and listening to the honking horns, the latest Hindi movie song blaring in someone's car stereo, smelling the fresh smells of shit and raw fish wafting in somehow through the closed window - sometimes in moments like this i break out into cold sweat thinking of the alternative explanation. 'Is it possible that these guys actually believe in this Spirit of Mumbai thing?' It’s a scary thought. Like those 70's zombie movies in which a group of guys visit a town where people are becoming zombies one by one and finally its just this boy and girl left and they are running running running while the entire town is closing in on them, amongst them their friends, people they grew up with, now with snarling mouths and vacant eyes, closer closer closer…until finally the guy collapses and gives up, too exhausted to run anymore, cut to a long shot and the crowd falls on him.
I DON’T WANT TO BE THAT GUY!!! I DON’T WANT TO BE LIKE THOSE ZOMBIES!!
I don’t want to feel proud of the fact that I love this hell and no one can make me hate it. I don’t want to shout out to the world ‘come on!! Give me more of your shit! I can take more and more and more’. I don’t want to be so spirited, so tough, so happening. I am just a weak, decadent, self-indulgent man who wants to spend the remaining years with some semblance of peace and dignity. I don’t want to be part of a 13 million member family, I do not deserve to part of this brotherhood and solidarity.
Somebody help me. Somebody throw me out of this utopia into the big bad world outside. Please.
Sometimes, when I have a quiet moment, sitting immobile in a bus in Sakinaka junction, waiting for the signal to turn green, watching at the rows of men squatting at the roadside with their dicks hanging out; at these times i sometimes wonder. Are Mumbaikars laughing at the expense of the rest of the world? Maybe this Spirit of Mumbai thing is the biggest hoax in the history of mankind, perpetrated by its 13 million people. Like when we were in college, after seeing a movie that was mind bogglingly bad, we used to tell all our friends about how great it was so that they would also suffer as we had suffered. Maybe these guys go home and have a huge laugh when they see people like us wading neck deep in water or paying 4 million bucks for a pigeon hole where the view comprises of a slum housing 14ooo people. I would love this to be correct explanation - at least it’s better than the alternative thought.
The alternative is scarier than any Stephen King novel i have read till date. Sometimes, late at night, when i am lying down and listening to the honking horns, the latest Hindi movie song blaring in someone's car stereo, smelling the fresh smells of shit and raw fish wafting in somehow through the closed window - sometimes in moments like this i break out into cold sweat thinking of the alternative explanation. 'Is it possible that these guys actually believe in this Spirit of Mumbai thing?' It’s a scary thought. Like those 70's zombie movies in which a group of guys visit a town where people are becoming zombies one by one and finally its just this boy and girl left and they are running running running while the entire town is closing in on them, amongst them their friends, people they grew up with, now with snarling mouths and vacant eyes, closer closer closer…until finally the guy collapses and gives up, too exhausted to run anymore, cut to a long shot and the crowd falls on him.
I DON’T WANT TO BE THAT GUY!!! I DON’T WANT TO BE LIKE THOSE ZOMBIES!!
I don’t want to feel proud of the fact that I love this hell and no one can make me hate it. I don’t want to shout out to the world ‘come on!! Give me more of your shit! I can take more and more and more’. I don’t want to be so spirited, so tough, so happening. I am just a weak, decadent, self-indulgent man who wants to spend the remaining years with some semblance of peace and dignity. I don’t want to be part of a 13 million member family, I do not deserve to part of this brotherhood and solidarity.
Somebody help me. Somebody throw me out of this utopia into the big bad world outside. Please.
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