tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-107429602024-03-07T18:35:21.659-08:00smallbigworldBISWADEEP GHOSH'S BLOG IN WHICH POSTS SURFACE WITH THE PERIODICITY OF HALEY'S COMETBiswadeep Ghoshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05856075990233717156noreply@blogger.comBlogger92125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10742960.post-84497927288137686762012-11-01T17:32:00.000-07:002012-11-01T17:32:06.159-07:00WHAT DO I SAY?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Logged in today. After a long, long time. Suddenly realized that the entire process of posting blogs had changed. I had started working on a list of favourite songs. That had been abandoned just after I had started out. My last entry was in September last year.
Since then, I have quit my full-time job with the Times of India - after a satisfying but long enough stint - to become a maverick all over again. Burp, my cocker spaniel son, has become a year older. Jack, the baby, has come into my life. I have moved into a bigger place: correction, a big place, the last one being small.
Time has ticked away. It always does. Things have changed. They promise to change even further. That's the way life is.
This blog will start. All over again. It needs to. It will.
Biswadeep Ghoshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05856075990233717156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10742960.post-1656216107760468282011-09-30T03:14:00.000-07:002012-01-14T12:07:13.756-08:00iPod of my mind: Musical unforgettables part nineThe journey continues. Lots of lovely songs have come back to haunt my life as the objective of writing about ten thousand songs takes another step forward.<br /><br />Am enjoying the feedback. Thanks guys. <br /><br />White room, Cream: Cream was a supergroup that didn’t last long, all due to ego clashes between its hugely talented members, Jack Bruce, Ginger Baker and Eric Clapton. White room is psychedelic rock taken to a different level by Clapton’s masterly playing of overdubbed guitars and the songwriting of course.<br /><br />Blowin’ in the wind, Peter, Paul and Mary: A track with a million versions, I personally admire the version of Peter, Paul and Mary, a folk music trio. Incidentally, this one is commercially the biggest success story of the track.<br /><br />Me and Bobby McGee, Janis Joplin: This being a personal list, let me share something personal. Janis Joplin died the day I was born (October 4) and, somehow, I cannot delete that fact from my mind. This particular track, a version of the track originally performed by Roger Miller, topped the US charts after Joplin passed away. It did so because of pure merit, and only a little bit of nostalgia. <br /><br />Everytime you go away, Paul Young: Written by Daryl Hall (Hall and Oates), this blue eyed soul cut sung by Young is his biggest hit ever. Young’s voice has a mesmeric silken touch, and this show manifests that beautifully.<br /><br />We are the world, USA for Africa: Outstanding. This song written by Michael Jackson and Lionel Richie featuring the who’s who of popular music had charity as its mission. The composition is so touching that we cannot help but return to it time and again. <br /><br />Kodachrome, Paul Simon: Named after Kodak’s 35 mm film, this track is typically Simon: well-written, well-sung, remarkably enjoyable. Not the sort of track you will forget easily.<br /><br />Cajun moon, JJ Cale: I am a JJ Cale fan, and have very little doubt that this track is one of his best. Once again, what works for this one is Cale’s laidback signature style of performing. Quite outstanding, really. <br /><br />Bound for glory, Neil Young: From his country album titled Old Ways, this song by Young (yes, the very same Young of CSNY) proves his musical versatility. If you have heard what one can say is ‘regular’ Young stuff, you might wish to check this out and be pleasantly surprised. <br /><br />Sussudio, Phil Collins: This song about a crush became huge after it released. Everyone who was remotely interested in Western music seemed to have heard it. Years have gone by. But the memories linger on.<br /><br />American pie, Don McLean: This one has been added because of a schoolmate’s suggestion. Not that it would not have made it – it is one of the best folk rock tracks you will ever hear – but I had planned to incorporate it sometime later. Brilliant song. Since you have heard it in all probability, just check it out once again.<br /><br />Bye for now. Let’s meet on Sunday, if not earlier. <br /> <br /> <br />Biswadeep Ghoshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05856075990233717156noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10742960.post-71362518914467200882011-09-29T05:51:00.000-07:002011-09-29T05:59:28.051-07:00iPod of my mind: Musical unforgettables part eightThe search for good music is an endless journey. And the discoveries as we go along are such that we don’t stop to seek breathing space. We just go on and on…<br /><br />Ten more delightful tracks for you, without any regard for chronology or genre as usual. As I have told you earlier, I don’t believe in the relevance of either. <br /><br />The road to hell, Chris Rea: Rea is an all-round musician and The road to hell, a two-part track, his biggest ever success so far. The guttural edge in his voice combines with superb lyrics and guitaring to make this rock track, one to die for.<br /><br />Morning train, Sheena Easton: I must confess that I enjoy some pop tracks that are meant for easy listening and don’t mean too much beyond the obvious. Morning Train by this Scottish singer features in that list of mine. Good to hear but, more importantly, a fairly pleasing memory.<br /><br />Sledgehammer, Peter Gabriel: This track by Gabriel, a monster hit with sexual innuendos in its lyrics and diverse experiments with instrumentation, continues to be a major feature in many musical circles more than 25 years after it was released. Of course, you must check the video.<br /><br />Itsy bitsy teenie weenie yellow polka dot bikini, Bryan Hyland: They call this bubblegum pop. All I do know – and what matters to me – is that this short and lively track with its fun lyrics can be enjoyed in a hurry but not forgotten as fast. Great stuff.<br /><br />Everybody hurts, R.E.M.: When alternative rock aspires to be outstanding, a song like this is born. This cut targets the teenagers, and the vocals of Michael Stipe and Peter Buck’s style of guitaring make this one a modern-day classic of alternative rock. By the way, the video inspired by filmmaker Federico Fellini’s 8 ½ is fantastic in its own right.<br /><br />Lucky lips, Cliff Richard: Typically Cliff. Not much adventure. Pretty much within his range. Pretty likable too.<br /><br />No love, Eminem featuring Lil Wayne: Eminem is seriously talented. So is Lil Wayne. This song, that samples Eurodance performer Haddaway’s biggest career hit What is love, is hip hop when it is remarkably good. Listen without prejudice. <br /><br />Layla, Eric Clapton and Wynton Marsalis: I know you must be wondering: what the hell is this? Well guys, the thing is, I am hearing this version right now. It is a ‘live’ performance, with the two maestros sounding heavenly in an act of mind-blowing experimentation. The original Layla stays in my list of favourites for being the way it is. But this one has its own jazz-soaked charm. Check it out. <br /><br />There’ll be some changes made, Mark Knopfler and Chet Atkins: Knopfler and Atkins came together for a country album titled Neck and Neck. My personal favourite is There’ll be some changes made. The two masters of two diverse styles have a ball in this one. <br /><br />Roll over Beethoven, Chuck Berry: Should rhythm and blues take over from classical music (hence, Beethoven)? Berry evidently thought so, leading to one of the greatest rock and roll tracks of all time. <br /><br />Particularly happy to include the version of Layla that I heard today. It sounds really good to me.Biswadeep Ghoshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05856075990233717156noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10742960.post-86185210787793461422011-09-29T01:00:00.000-07:002011-09-29T01:28:47.425-07:00iPod of my mind: Musical unforgettables part sevenThis is the seventh installment of what is hopefully going to be a thousand-part-long series. But responses are pouring in. I am getting to read messages asking why there are no Foo Fighters, no Abba, no so many others.<br /><br />Guys, this has just taken off. Give me some time please. <br /><br />If you could read my mind, Gordon Lightfoot: This Canadian phenomenon has given some sublime classics in the country and pop genres. If you could read my mind is my personal favourite, although I must confess that many other Lightfoot tracks come close to that one. <br /><br />Burning bridges, Status Quo: For a long time, this British rock band was known for consistency in output. Burning bridges, based on the English folk cut Darby Kelly, is a brilliantly well-knit number unveiling the act at their best.<br /><br />What’s love got to do with it, Tina Turner: Tina Turner is an iconic singer, and this track, with its biting lyrics and majestic vocals, is definitely one of her best. Tremendously popular, it shows how great singing can make a track soar way beyond the ordinary,<br /><br />Take me home, country roads, John Denver: Now, show me one person who loves music and hasn’t heard this one. Mellifluous and lucid, this one is the sort of country track that has given the genre so much popularity worldwide.<br /><br />November rain, Guns N’ Roses: When it started out, this act had so much obvious talent that it could have done a lot better than it did. However, few rock music lovers can question the class of November Rain. From guitaring to vocals, this track scores highly in every aspect of the composition. <br /><br />The man, Paul McCartney and Michael Jackson: I have always felt that McCartney and Jackson understood each other perfectly as performers. This great quality manifests itself most remarkably in The man, a lovely track from the album Pipes of Peace.<br /><br />Holiday, Green Day: A track from the American punk rock act. The lead vocalist Billie Joe Armstrong used to introduce this song with the ‘f’ word directed at the politicians. Ignore that as a gimmick and hear the song. <br /><br />Wind of change, Scorpions: Classified as a ‘power ballad’, this cut by the German heavy metal band celebrates the demise of the Cold war, among other things. Very few heavy metal/hard rock tracks are as infectious. Simply majestic, guys.<br /><br />Smooth operator, Sade: This song by the British pop group Sade tells the story of a womaniser who breaks many hearts. What works for this one is the wonderful vocals by the lead singer, Nigeria-born Sade Adu.<br /><br />Rivers of Babylon, Boney M: A track many of us grew up with. Originally a Rastafarian cut, the Boney M found its way into the hearts of millions of music lovers. We may not be able to take this one too seriously. But it is impossible not to smile and tap our feet when the song is being played. <br /><br />Hear these tracks if you wish to. Hopefully, the majority would not disappoint you.Biswadeep Ghoshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05856075990233717156noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10742960.post-5998174082251806132011-09-28T03:22:00.000-07:002011-09-28T03:35:40.817-07:00iPod of my mind: Musical unforgettables part sixWas leaving for work today. All of a sudden, started humming a Pink Floyd song. When I wrote about it on Facebook, an old buddy responded by saying that the song had got stuck inside his head.<br /><br />Happens. Happens very often. When a truly good composition comes our way, it doesn’t leave us very easily. <br /><br />Some such songs that you could enjoy…if you already haven’t. <br /> <br />Baby elephant walk, Henry Mancini: This Mancini composition for the film Hatari! is so wonderfully engaging that you are going to stay hooked to it for years. Fun-filled and jazzy, Mancini broke away from his usual style and created a classic which music lovers must hear and enjoy.<br /><br />Goodbye Charlie, Bobby Darin: Darin was a huge talent. And Goodbye Charlie with its lovely vocals and wonderful lyrics is a superb track indeed. Check this out. It will be a pleasant discovery. <br /><br />Raindrops keep falling on my head, B J Thomas: Written by Hal David and Burt Bacharach, this song is remembered best for Paul Newman’s bicycle stunts in the movie Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Loads of fun, and distinctly memorable.<br /><br />Staying alive, Bee Gees: This track from the motion picture Saturday Night Fever rewrote the meaning of universal popularity. Decades after actor John Travolta became synonymous with this one, the song continues to visit our lives one way or the other.<br /><br />Californication, Red Hot Chilli Peppers: This alternative rock band consists of a bunch of very talented guys. And while they do not get it spot on often – one wonders why – they certainly did so in this particular track. Very well-knit, destined to outlive many of its contemporaries.<br /><br />Bellbottom blues, Derek and the Dominos: A blues-rock classic written by Eric Clapton and performed by Derek and the Dominos. Clapton is simply fantastic both as a singer and a guitarist. He manages to bring out the emotions in the lyrics most wonderfully. <br /><br />One night in Bangkok, Murray Head: The lyrics which speak of Bangkok and chess in a satirical tone created quite a furore. But the new wave track is full of energy, and some Oriental instrumentation in the beginning adds to the fun quotient. Good stuff. <br /><br />More than I can say, Leo Sayer: Written by Jerry Allison and Sonny Curtis, two members of Buddy Holly’s band The Crickets. Also recorded by the band after Holly passed away. But the version I like most is the one by Sayer, which became hugely popular once it was released. <br /><br />Space oddity, David Bowie: Belongs to the ‘space rock’ genre. Seen as a satire on the British space programme, this track has all those elements that a Bowie fan can ask for: and more.<br /><br />Lucille, Kenny Rogers: The lyrics are about an extra-marital relationship – almost – but what makes this song actually haunting is Rogers’ out-of-the-world singing. Will stay on as a melodic memory. All you have to do is hear it once. <br /><br />This list is the most ‘mixed’ among the ones I have uploaded so far. But then, I firmly believe that music knows no boundaries. What is good is good.Biswadeep Ghoshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05856075990233717156noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10742960.post-89342181164435227682011-09-26T04:46:00.000-07:002011-09-26T05:21:20.646-07:00iPod of my mind: Musical unforgettables part fiveSomeone was chatting with me the other day. “Can you tell me about your top ten favourites of all time?,” he said. I thought for a while and answered, “Impossible. Too much has been happening for too long.”<br /><br />That is the thing about music. So much of it is produced, and so many good songs, that we are faced with the problem of plenty. But think of it. Isn’t that fascinating? After all, who would have liked it if music had produced a few songs and become a dinosaur? Nobody, I am sure.<br /><br />Cut to ten cuts. Let’s hear them and have fun.<br /><br />Hello, Lionel Richie: Richie has a marvellous voice. And personally, I have a soft corner for his slow numbers because that is when he is at his best. Hello is his best track. And just in case you haven’t seen the video, find a way to do so.<br /><br />Ballerina girl, Richie: Another Richie track. Another slow one. And almost equally good. Don’t miss this one.<br /><br />Time, Pink Floyd: As a kid, I was intrigued by the way the song began. With the tick tick sound, symbolising the movement of time. As I grew up, the song grew in me. No matter how many classics hit the music scene later, I cannot let go of this one. Too precious. <br /><br />Words, Bee Gees: Vocal harmony is the USP of Bee Gees. And, Words brings out that quality best. Beautifully written and sung, this one will stand the test of time.<br /><br />Top of the world, The Carpenters: If you like lilting tracks, you must be in love with this act. What about me? Well, I don’t like everything they have done. But I would need to lie to say that I don’t adore this one. Uncomplicated, and thoroughly lovable.<br /><br />Crocodile walk, John Mayall: If we start making a list of musicians whom the blues musician John Mayall has mentored one way or the other, the list will be very long indeed. Crocodile walk wasn’t a major commercial success by any yardstick of judgment. But it shows the sort of musicianship that Mayall fans expect from the man. Superb stuff. <br /><br />Beat it, Michael Jackson: What a track, and what a performance. One of the biggest hits of Jackson, this one is the king of all songs for many Jackson fans. Check out the video to see the sort of magic the man could whip up with consummate effortlessness. <br /><br />Oh, pretty woman, Roy Orbison: Roy Orbison was quite a performer, and this song which inspired the title of a Richard Gere-Julia Roberts starrer is his most popular. You have heard it, right?<br /><br />To all the girls I have loved before, Willie Nelson and Julio Iglesias: Hey all, you will love this. Subtle competitiveness between singers of two diverse styles makes it delightful. My vote for the better vocalist goes to Nelson. But I am biased towards the guy. So don’t trust me, but hear it anyway. (This is the cover version of an Albert Hammond song. But that is inconsequential).<br /><br />Take on me, A-ha: This Norwegian band was a huge success. This track is among their best. Not much ambition here, only the desire to produce a light-hearted enjoyable track. The honesty of intention works. <br /><br />So then. Hope you liked this one. Good to hear from many of you. And we shall hear some more very soon.Biswadeep Ghoshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05856075990233717156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10742960.post-27621551932058792012011-09-23T06:34:00.000-07:002011-09-23T06:54:55.687-07:00iPod of my mind: Musical unforgettables part fourMusic has so much to offer that, if you have time and taste, you can indulge in what you like and be at complete peace with yourself. And this, even if you dig heavy metal and nothing else at all.<br /><br />When somebody read my first three posts yesterday, the person’s first reaction was, “Wow, your range is phenomenal.” Thanks for that, but I genuinely believe that there are other nutcases like me who enjoy all sorts of music, without any discrimination whatsoever. After all, what is important, at the end of the day, is the sound of music. And, if you find the sound relatable, guys, nothing else matters.<br /><br />Here are ten more songs. For your eyes as of now, and hopefully, your ears thereafter.<br /><br />Cocaine, Eric Clapton: Written and recorded by JJ Cale, this song became famous because of Clapton’s version. This one was supposed to be an anti-drug song, but the intention was so unclear in the lyrics that Clapton added the phrase ‘that dirty cocaine’ to the track later. I am of the view that this track’s initial performances has EC at his best. In saying what I do, I am not the only one.<br /><br />La bamba, Ritchie Valens: This Mexican folk track was popularised by a prodigy named Ritchie Valens. Today, it has become an anthem the world over. I hardly know any music lover who hasn’t heard this one. So, what do I add?<br /><br />The house of the rising Sun, The Animals: Plain knockout material. Originally a folk track, The Animals gave this one a superb twist and made it a folk rock classic that will last forever.<br /><br />Part time lover, Stevie Wonder: This visually challenged maestro has one of the most mesmerising voices you can ever hear. Part time lover, as the title suggests, is, lyrically, a naughty track. Wonderfully sung by Wonder, you cannot stay away from hearing it time and again.<br /><br />Eye in the sky, The Alan Parsons Project: The title track of a hugely popular pop rock album. Fantastic instrumentation, great vocal harmony, eminently enjoyable.<br /><br />Teach your children, Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young: Trivia freaks might like to know that this track had Jerry Garcia on the pedal steel guitar. Written by Graham Nash and dealing with the theme of teaching children about war and other concerns, this folk rock track is seriously good.<br /><br />Sultans of swing, Dire Straits: Dire Straits, led by the charismatic Mark Knopfler, delivered this pulsating number. The songwriting is great, and the big man’s guitaring and vocals make this one a track for all seasons.<br /><br />Blowing in the wind, Bob Dylan: Dylan is the best lyricist the world has ever produced. This track, with its haunting thoughts and ‘interesting’ vocals – interesting is the word one must use for Dylan’s singing – is among the most popular ones of all time. Am sure you have heard it, even if politics doesn't interest you one bit. <br /><br />After Midnight, JJ Cale: Popularised by Clapton, but I like Cale’s original version a little bit more. The laidback style of Cale’s singing lends this track, a peculiar charm: or, so I feel.<br /><br />The sound of silence, Simon and Garfunkel: Simon and Garfunkel have given us many classics. Thank God for that. But nothing quite matches the haunting flavour of this track. The word ‘sound’ has been used in both its singular and plural incarnations, but we will stick to the former since Simon, in his book Lyrics 1964-2008, has it that way. <br /><br />Bye for now. And enjoy. On Sunday, we shall sing together once more.Biswadeep Ghoshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05856075990233717156noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10742960.post-47350018563846169782011-09-22T05:14:00.000-07:002011-09-22T05:32:08.880-07:00iPod of my mind: Musical unforgettables part threeGuys, this series has just started. And I am getting all sorts of interesting messages already. Am glad, because it shows that people are seeing the stuff. What’s interesting: I have been inundated with thoughts and suggestions on which bands to include, why, and so on.<br />Thanks for your advice, guys. Hopefully, I will be able to find space for your preferences as I go along. Just in case you think that ten thousand songs is a hell of a lot, well, the fact is, it is not. So, what you think is an inevitable addition might be left out, this series being governed by personal likes and dislikes to a great extent. <br />Some more stuff. That is, ten more songs.<br /><br />Watching the wheels, John Lennon: This song was inspired by John Lennon’s experience as a ‘house husband’ when he stayed away from work to look after Sean, his son. And, it was released after Lennon’s assassination. All of us know that the ex-Beatle had written innumerable memorable tracks by then. But hear this if you haven’t. It might make you rewrite your list of Lennon favourites. <br /><br />Rude awakening, Bill Medley: He is one half of The Righteous Brothers. And, he did this track for the motion picture by the same name. To be heard because of solid performance, and of course, great lyrics. <br /><br />Voodoo Chile, The Jimi Hendrix Experience: This song emerged from Catfish Blues, Hendrix’s homage to Muddy Waters. It is the longest ever studio recording by Hendrix, and must be heard for the various styles of blues (right from BB King to Delta Blues) that Hendrix incorporates in the performance. I am aware that the critics of Hendrix have problems with his musical pomposity. But I love him for that. Just that. <br /><br />Watching TV, Roger Waters (with Don Henley): How did the media make an impact on the Chinese protests for democracy in Tiananmen Square? Through his concept album titled Amused to Death, Waters sought to address this question with this particular song. The lyrics may not be great, but the overall feel of the song shook me up alright.<br /><br />Candle in the wind, Elton John: This one, a tribute to Marilyn Monroe, should be on anybody’s list. Or, so I would like to believe. Great singing, good writing by Bernie Taupin, lovely melody: what more can you ask for? What I did not like, however, is the way John tinkered with the track to offer a tribute to Princess Diana. Simply not done.<br /><br />Imagine, John Lennon: Philosophical, straight from the heart. Lennon inhabited a dreamer’s world when he came up with this one. Won’t be surprised if the song outlives many Beatles classics.<br /><br />What’s up, 4 Non Blondes: The only studio album released by this alternative rock band, and it was called Bigger, Better, Faster, More. What’s up, a track from BBFM, is a classic example of how good these girls were, and suggests what all they could have achieved had they stayed together.<br /><br />Two princes, Spin Doctors: When I heard this track for the first time, the rhythms swept me off my feet. It took me several days before the reality sunk in. Yes, these ‘docs’ were outstanding in this particular alternative rock track. Deserves to be in your list if it isn’t there already.<br /><br />Song Sung Blue, Neil Diamond: What vocal depth, and how adorably simple songwriting. What is special about this one is that Diamond didn’t try too hard. But what he did, he did most brilliantly.<br /><br />Jailhouse rock, Elvis Presley: The first Elvis entry and, I must confess, possibly a much delayed one. The song has been recorded by everyone right from Motley Crue to John Cougar Mellencamp. But the version by Elvis is certainly the best of them all. And, even now, this rock and roll cut continues to rule.<br /><br />Wrapped Around Your Finger, The Police: A song from Synchronicity, the last studio album recorded by the band. To be heard for the literary references, if you give a damn, and for sheer compositional genius if you don’t. The video, honestly, is almost as good.<br /><br />Songs are meant to be enjoyed, aren’t they? That is why I have decided to break all genre-specific boundaries as I work on this series.<br />Hope you are liking it. I certainly am.Biswadeep Ghoshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05856075990233717156noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10742960.post-15256569085119676112011-09-22T03:06:00.000-07:002011-09-22T07:19:01.377-07:00iPod of my mind: Musical unforgettables part twoThis series seems to have started off okay. What’s more, I am quite enjoying what I am doing. The target that I have set for myself is an obscene challenge. Writing about ten thousand songs isn’t easy: not for me, at least. But it promises to be fun.<br /><br />Let me cut the crap. For the time being. Here are ten more songs that you might wish to check out. <br /> <br />Comfortably numb, Pink Floyd: Many can’t see beyond this Floyd number. Waters and co. have done much better stuff. But this one as a popular classic beats most. <br /><br />No rain, Blind Melon: My introduction to this American rock band. The video featuring Heather DeLoach performing in front of people who respond with sarcastic laughter, before moving on to show the girl’s quest for appreciative viewers, is brilliant. (For the final moments, check it out). As for the song, you have to hear it to believe that these guys could deliver some seriously good stuff.<br />Btw, would have liked the front man Shannon Hoon to go on and on instead of dying of cocaine overdose like many others of his kind. <br /><br />Coward of the county, Kenny Rogers: Country music has produced great performers. And, Kenny Rogers is right there at the top with a few others. This song that tells the story of a young ‘coward’ who becomes a ‘real’ man in the end, the songwriter has enough in it to sustain one’s interest. Add Rogers’ vocals to that, and what you have is a seriously good track. <br /><br />Mr. Record Man, Willie Nelson: A brilliant track from that ‘rebel’ named Willie Nelson. Great writing and superb vocals take this song to that special level that makes Nelson a unique happening in the world of country music. <br /><br />Thriller, Michael Jackson: No matter what his critics say, MJ is the biggest entertainer the world has ever seen. Thriller’s music video is one of the best you can ever hope to see, with Jackson, the idol of idols, in full flow both as a singer and performer. Yes, outstanding. <br /><br />Woman in love, Barbra Streisand: What a voice, and what a song. I have known diehard metal lovers who have been felled by the haunting beauty of this romantic number. As a matter of fact, nobody I know has managed to be an exception, which says a lot about the merit of the track.<br /><br />Rhinestone cowboy, Glen Campbell: Blessed with a rich voice, Campbell has pulled off several magical tracks during his illustrious career as a country music performer. Rhinestone cowboy is one of his biggest hits, and what’s more, continues to make its presence felt despite countless country music releases every year. You just cannot miss this one. <br /><br />Don’t know much, Linda Ronstadt and Aaron Neville: This song had been sung by others earlier – including Bill Medley and Bette Midler – but none of them matches the version sang by Ronstadt and Neville (of Neville Brothers). It has the classic quality of any good duet: which is, two brilliant vocalists complimenting each other with instinctive ease. Personally, I believe that Neville eclipsed Ronstadt. But my view may not be shared by others. <br /><br />Careless whisper, Wham!: Have never been much of a Wham! fan. But I confess that Careless whisper, when released as a single in 1984, pretty much convinced me, a schoolboy, that the band was destined to go far. That, it did, before the members George Michael and Andrew Ridgeley parted ways. Till today, the number sounds good to my ears. Not bad, 27 odd years having gone by since I heard it first.<br /><br />Roadhouse Blues, The Doors: The last screw of sanity abandoned my mind-screwed head when I heard this track years ago. Although the song has been flogged to death by countless cover version artists, Jim Morrison’s voice reminds me of his nearly matchless charisma whenever I return to the track.<br /><br />See you till next time. Which should be very very soon.Biswadeep Ghoshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05856075990233717156noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10742960.post-15044097174036906022011-09-21T04:45:00.000-07:002011-09-21T05:00:44.715-07:00iPod of my mind : Musical unforgettables part oneIt has been humming in my mind lately. The thought, that is. How did it come into being? It just happened. One day. Somebody who had seen me sing onstage when I was three years old said rather emotionally, “You have left singing anyway. Why have you stopped writing about it?”<br /><br />That set me thinking. After sometime I thought, hey, why not? Let me try and do something different – to some extent at least – for me and my friends…and others too. Use the space on my dormant blog, one of my dormant blogs, to do a series on great songs of all time. <br /><br />As the thought crystallised, I realised that this one was going to be a mighty tough task. But yes, I have promised to myself that a) I am going to give it a decent shot; b) abstain from technicalities; c) discuss songs that are as popular as nursery rhymes since what is popular can also be great; d) mention whichever good song comes to mind without hesitation and travel across time zones so that songs that happened before I was born, and after I did get equal recognition. <br /><br />The series begins with Western popular music, and has no intention of alienating readers by being era-specific. So, read on. And try and check out tracks you haven’t heard so far. The possibility of that happening – at least in the initial stages – is going to be remote though. <br /><br />What follows are the first ten songs. Please remember that they are just good, and better, songs. And, in no particular order in a series that won’t end, well, not very soon for sure. <br /><br />Norwegian Wood, The Beatles: The first song by the legends I had heard when still very young. The melody reminded me of Raga Bageshwari, a very common raga in Hindustani Classical music. And much later, I was shocked to realise that the quartet had been actually inspired by the raga. So, I had been right!<br />Haunting track. The vocal harmony is pure bliss.<br /><br />Lay Down Sally, Eric Clapton: Clapton is one of the greatest guitarists ever. But his guttural vocals get manifested most brilliantly in a track whose lyrics have, well, nothing to write home about. This one needs to be enjoyed purely because of the way he has sung.<br /><br />Romeo and Juliet, Dire Straits: Hear these lines. “A love-struck Romeo sings the streets a serenade/ Laying everybody low with a love song that he made/ Finds a streetlight, steps out of the shade/ Says something like, ‘You and me babe, how about it?” That is Mark Knopfler at his best for you: moody, irreverent, enjoyable.<br /><br />I’m Going Home, Ten Years After: The Woodstock version of the song is one of the most pulsating tracks I have ever heard. And what about Alvin Lee, who had the potential to be one of the best band leaders ever? Don’t know why his act collapsed later. But in this particular track, his vocals and guitaring sting. <br /><br />Bachelor Boy, Cliff Richard: So do you think that this India-born singer, originally named Harry Webb, writes and performs tracks that are meant for people with less IQ? If so, please let me know if you have forgotten this one. I, for one, remember each and every line. And, I don’t pretend to resent the man.<br /><br />Tears in Heaven, Eric Clapton: As a hardcore Clapton buff, I have always liked most of his earlier material. But this song, written as a tribute to his son who died in a tragic accident, has a lovably hummable quality. <br /> <br />Tambourine Man, Bob Dylan: When I heard this song as a ten-year-old, I had just one question in my mind. What the hell was Dylan talking about? Later, I figured out that ten-year-olds weren’t supposed to understand what he meant, if the kid wasn’t blessed with Einstein-like genius of course. Superbly written, in other words, this one lives with a music lover forever.<br /><br />Black Magic Woman, Santana: Santana is among the greatest complete musicians I have ever heard. And, this one, with its remarkable guitaring and fantastic percussion will be up there with the best till the end of time. <br /><br />Another Brick in the Wall, Pink Floyd: Known for their dazzling showmanship and musical excellence, this track with its anti-establishment flavour and compositional dynamics is a classic. And, not just for Floyd fans.<br /><br />Alive, Pearl Jam: When I heard the Pearl Jam lead singer Eddie Vedder do a track with Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, I didn’t know where to run. The track was ‘that’ bad! But Alive, with a great solo by the band’s brilliant guitarist Mike McCready, is a truly special song. And, just think of this. This one was actually the first single that Pearl Jam ever released. <br /><br />So you have heard all of them? You must have. Now, here is the news. Once more. The story has just begun.Biswadeep Ghoshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05856075990233717156noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10742960.post-28345125303655931302009-09-25T01:54:00.000-07:002009-09-25T01:55:54.463-07:00TALKING FROM THE MOONI am an old man. I am 160 years old, and I live on the moon. It’s been more than 300 years since my ancestors shifted to the satellite after population explosion threatened to destroy earth. In a city known as New Delhi, they applied for voluntary citizenship of the moon. Keen to tame the overpopulation, the United States of the World government happily agreed. Our ancestors were made to undergo a series of what was known as compatibility surgical procedures. Then they left for the moon, which is where I live today.<br /> <br />Think of it. Four hundred years since my relatives came to the moon for the first time. Two hundred odd years since they built a majestic moonsion here. We, the luno sapiens, have built an independent human society in which people eat what is grown on the moon; are well-adjusted to temperature fluctuations of around 300 degrees every day; and even stay in touch with our counterparts on earth. Ours is a peace-loving society, the last war we had being the one for the possession of CME (Central Moon Economy) some 100 years ago. Seventy hundred people died on both sides, a huge loss since some of them were 60-year-old youngsters. <br /> <br />Today’s moon has a great system of education that has taken 500 years to develop. Our science and technology has developed so much that I am able to write an article for a newspaper that is printed from the city of my ancestors. It is the best way of reaching out to my kind of people I guess. Everything out here is too good, too perfect. People live for a long time, mainly since diet options are limited and we do not drink alcohol which damages earthlings but isn’t available in our satellite. Some crooks tried to smuggle it, but the centralised government acted fast and murdered their devious ambitions. Good for us, since we are fitter than our counterparts on earth. <br /> <br />Since everything is so perfect here, do I have a problem? Yes, I do. I want to go back to earth, at least for a while, and experience what all is happening out there. I am told that the earth has become one big world with a huge number of friendly states that try to help one another. They worship the same God, eat the same food, dress similarly, and work for the betterment of the planet. I want to experience the harmony in complexity, and bring some of my knowledge back here. But I can’t do that. You know why? I won’t survive there. My body has changed. I am as different from a homo sapien as Pluto is from Jupiter. So, I must live till I die. On the moon. Nice knowing you.Biswadeep Ghoshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05856075990233717156noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10742960.post-14244145549623691982009-08-25T02:24:00.001-07:002009-08-25T02:24:40.841-07:00CALL ME KAMINA BUT...Fearless filmmaking isn’t an Indian trait. Correction, not a Bollywood trait at least. So, when Vishal Bharadwaj thinks out of the box and makes <em>Kaminey</em>, we sit up and say, “What the f***! This is great stuff.” In what seems like a herd-of-sheep syndrome, more and more stars are being given away to the film nationwide. Four – meaning excellent – is the average score. Better-than-excellent scores are also being handed out with magnanimity. What the f***!<br /><br />Look, what I am ‘not’ trying to say is <em>Kaminey</em> is the typical balls-is-beautiful sort of Mallika Sherawat film. Nor am I suggesting that Vishal, in his quest for experimentation, has come up with a ‘chutnified’ <em>Kabhi Alvida…</em>’s parallel in a different genre. For, Vishal can do better than that at his worst. And, he does so…once more. Imagination and sincerity are two of the keywords driving <em>Kaminey</em>’s presentation: some loosely structured scenes that pop up from time to time, smart cinematography, decent enough music, fine plotting and performances being the hallmark of this not-too-long essay on the big screen.<br /><br /><em>Kaminey</em> exposes the average Indian viewer to a certain kind of avant garde filmmaking he/she has never seen before. But, the problem: if you have seen a fair number of films which have tried to conduct similar experiments worldwide, you are left thinking: ‘The film is more than decent. But great? Ah, not very sure.’ I mean, I am supposed to love the overwhelmingly common perspective that this film is an answer to <em>Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels</em>. Honestly, I hate it! No matter what, in other words, <em>Kaminey </em>isn’t a patch on <em>Lock, Stock…</em>.Vishal is very good, no doubt, but Guy Ritchie is something else. Period.<br /><br />In <em>Kaminey</em>, the biggest strength is the plot. There are smart twists and turns, and the narrative moves ahead restlessly. Vishal has been known to be a big fan of Quentin Tarantino. So, there you are. Critics are telling us his latest reminds us of Tarantino as well. Sorry to say this, but really, when does <em>Kaminey</em> acquire the sort of power that Tarantino achieves almost effortlessly in <em>Pulp Fiction</em> and <em>Reservoir Dogs</em>? Vishal makes very good music, but does he come anywhere near the way Tarantino uses music in <em>Reservoir Dogs</em> in particular? What about those innumerable gems in <em>Kill Bill</em> which only a man who has mastered his style can come up with? Nobody is asking that. Understandable. In times of hype, such things seldom matter.<br /><br />The stylistic format that Vishal has opted for makes for good viewing. But, it is unfair to ignore that fact that many filmmakers have journeyed a lot more – and given much better – results while exploring the same cinematic zone. You know what? There is this guy named Johnnie To from Hong Kong. His name isn’t cropping up, the obvious reason being To isn’t Tarantino in terms of sheer popularity and reach. Having said that, he makes fine movies. And, it will be great if some admirers of <em>Kaminey</em> sit back and watch what To has been able to achieve in some films in which he has To-ed a similar line. Indeed, there are quite a few of them out there who have been there, done that. So, while it is important that we applaud Vishal’s sincerity, there is no reason for us to assert that <em>Kaminey</em> is Tarantino at its best. Or, Marilyn Monroe at her most divine. Both make no sense.Biswadeep Ghoshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05856075990233717156noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10742960.post-41961792203614454562009-03-10T21:31:00.001-07:002009-03-10T21:33:39.478-07:00CHEAP AND BEST!Classics, be it musical, literary or cinematic, turn me into a marionette. Whenever I saunter into a shop, invisible strings get unleashed within seconds. They wrap themselves around my feet, and manipulate their movement. I find myself gravitating towards works that not only epitomise creative immortality, but also make me hopeful about the future of art in general. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. I do the puppet walk. By the time I do my buying and leave the store, I ensure that my debit card is a lot poorer. Reactions to my purchases vary. Some find me affluent which I am not. Some others find me extravagant which could well be the case. <br /><br />Yet, one thing saddens me always. When I pick up a contemporary novel and look at the price tag, I realise that I will have to shell out Rs 500. How good is the writer? In most cases, if that fellow's book had been released yesterday, it would have been forgotten by today. But when it is Charles Dickens or Jane Austen, editions meant for the common reader can be all yours for as little as Rs 100. Till today, I have not been able to figure out why the works of all-time great writers should be treated with so much indignity. <br /><br />As it is, there is this detestable cross-section of buyers that picks up books to embellish shelves at home. Dickens, Austen, Thackeray, Hardy, Wordsworth, Maupassant, Wilde: I have seen one disgusting shelf in New Delhi which held around 1000 classics, most of them unread that the complacent owner acknowledged blissfully. One reason why such a collection was built was since the price of the books was obscenely cheap. So, by marketing masterpieces at such rates, aren't the store owners actually guilty of creating decorative collections at a time when reading habit is clearly on the decline? More importantly, if someone wants a Dickens, let him/her pay for a Dickens. Pray, why should David Copperfield come for a hundred rupees less than some nonsensical Harold Robbins novel?<br /><br />Not that cheap pricing does not help. During my days as a child in Patna, there was no library that stocked Russian literature. About 25 years ago, my budget for books sanctioned by my family used to be a princely 200 bucks. But I did manage to finish that off by the middle of the month. Once that happened, I persuaded my grandmother to take me to a store that was a repository of Russian books. "They are so cheap," I simpered. With a benign grin, she surrendered to my request and took me there. It was because of my journeys there that I discovered Fyodor Dostoyevsky (two hardbound volumes of The Idiot cost me eight rupees), Alexander Pushkin (a five-rupee Pushkin volume acquainted me with another Don Juan) and Maxim Gorky (ten hardbound volumes of his entire works cost me Rs 110). <br /><br />But, why those books were sold for so cheap was because of a deliberate policy that they needed to reach out to everybody. And, in that store, there was no Jack Higgins whose thin paperback was priced at 20 bucks. The sad thing today, and it really hurts, is that a VCD of Salaam Namaste comes for Rs 149. Then, one moves on and picks up six Laurel and Hardy films from the same store for Rs 300. Does one need to add that the makers also give a free VCD case along with the Laurel and Hardy films? Not only that, I also happen to be the proud owner of 20 odd Chaplin films that must have cost me around Rs 1000. For five Alfred Hitchcock flicks, I have shelled out Rs 400. <br /><br />Classics being classics will always have fewer buyers. That's a known fact of life. If that were not the case, everyone would have views on why Raag Bhimpalasi need not be less interesting than Raag Poorvi , or why Beethoven's best magic isn't as captivating as Mozart's worst. Despite cheap tags, alluring offers and so on, the fact remains that Mallika Sherawat's assets in forgettable films will continue to generate more discussions everywhere. So, if the makers think that selling classics for cheap can create more interest in them, they are awfully wrong. <br /><br />How I wish could walk into any store that gave classics the honour they deserve. How I hope that A Tale of Two Cities will be sold for Rs 500, about 300 more than a Scott Turow book. That will not happen soon for sure. If at all that will ever happen seems slightly less unlikely.Biswadeep Ghoshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05856075990233717156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10742960.post-88283734639837557832009-03-10T20:57:00.001-07:002009-03-10T21:00:26.688-07:00MAN IN A WOMAN'S WORLDThere was, indeed, a time when I wasn't aware of my own existence. Unlike someone else. My mother. When I had grown into a vague presence inside her body, she had experienced a happy unease that, slowly, surely, turned into the nine-pound baby that I was. Years have flown. Have added another nine pounds to become a man of the 'fragile: handle with care' variety. Whenever the first lady in my life looks at me even today, I can feel a sense of triumph in her eyes. Those eyes, large ones, speak an eloquent language of affection-laden silence. They tell me what a woman can do, but no man can. Mom gave birth to me, like countless other ladies since the beginning of time. Can any of us guys, the male guys I mean, replicate that miracle ever? If not, how the hell did that phrase 'man's world' come into being? <br /><br />As I get stuck in a mental quagmire, seeking the unanswerable, several images of the other ladies in my life come to mind. Like all men, including those cursed by the inability to be grateful, I adore my mother. Then, there is grandma, the great dictator who has exercised unbelievable power over everyone else in a large family. If mom is simply lovable, grandma is incomparably scary. <br /> <br />When the old lady had played Emma Wodehouse and ventured towards matchmaking, she had ended up voting for the wrong guy who ruined a woman's life. When she used to serve tea with salt to my grandpa years ago, he would look at her with a weak smile and drink half of it before grandma realised her fault while sipping hers. When a relative of mine had wanted to marry a girl he loved, grandma had vetoed so emphatically that the fellow didn't utter her name in front of her ever after. <br /> <br />So what if grandma had made a devastating blunder while endeavouring to choose the right guy for someone? That women seldom erred but men always did was her life's operational mantra. It still is, and one must add that her analysis isn't particularly wrong either. Whenever we try to communicate our thoughts about life, we are dependent on our experiences with fellow human beings, if not guided by a hypocritical motivation to sound like someone else. The latter, a conscience killer, has spawned a few moments when I have hated myself. But, all I can say is that I have tried hard to be honest, which is not saying much, yet which is why 'man's world' is a silly chauvinistic thought I can never ever comprehend. <br /><br />After all, what about the divine gift of motherhood that no man 'should' have been born with? What about my grandma, whose acceptable version leads to each and every woman, who guides the course of men's lives ever so subtly? What about many lady colleagues I have come across, whose ability to strike a balance between personal and professional lives is as natural as it is amazing? What about my former girlfriend of many years ago, who had dumped me because of my chaotic lifestyle? What about my could-have-been girlfriend of a few years later, who remained just that and no more for the same reason? What about all those ladies who have taught me so much without being ostentatiously didactic, a crippling foible which many men simply love to show off, making an ass of themselves? Inhabiting a woman's world, the biggest failure of most guys is that they don't know how powerless they actually are. That's funny but not surprising, considering most men still don't know the difference between having sex and making love. <br /> <br />(This column had appeared in Femina)Biswadeep Ghoshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05856075990233717156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10742960.post-1407250902327265162009-03-09T22:30:00.000-07:002009-03-09T22:43:16.996-07:00A BAD SATIRE (excavated from archives)How old would he be? Don’t know. Doesn’t matter. Could be 45, 48, 51…forget it. Since he is a journo who will make his debut behind the camera soon, how does his age matter? He doesn’t need to look glamorous.<br /><br />And, what about the girl in front of him? Eighteen, 19,20…she, a lass with a pretty face and a fine figure, should figure somewhere in that bracket I suppose. The girl is a wannabe starlet, a modern-day Miss Quested from Jhumritilaiya lusting after five seconds of fame in Bollywood.<br /><br />When she walks into the cabin of this man, his neck is buried in a huge file of what seems like newspaper clippings. “Yes, sit,” he looks at her through his rimless spectacles for less than a quarter of a second and goes back to reading his clippings again. Doesn’t seem to be interested in the female presence it seems. Correction. If at all he is interested, it doesn’t show.<br /><br />“Sir,” the girl mumbles after a patient ten-minute pause, “I had called you up last week. I need a break, of any kind, in the Hindi film industry but I don’t have contacts. No godfather, you see. So I thought that perhaps you could help me…”<br /><br />“Hmm, I couldn’t have met you last week because I was travelling abroad on a junket funded by Josh Distilleries, the makers of <em>Beer Zara</em>," the scribe looks at the girl and continues, “See, we need to go out with film units when the movies are being made so that we can file special reports. Besides, the filmmakers also need to keep the journalists happy so that the media does not trash their movies.”<br /><br />“But Sir, what is it that you mean by junk it?” the girl asks, her Tilaiyaisms clearly audible for once.<br /><br />“Oh, not junk it but junket lady,” the man sets forth a smile demonstrating his nicotine-tinged teeth, “Junket means a trip that costs nothing to us, and helps media-savvy producers get kind reviews for the rubbish they make. Some of us, the senior scribes, constitute an important power centre you know.”<br /><br />“So you mean <em>Beer…</em>is really bad? But it has got Big S, Big R, Big P and even Big B in a small role, so many big stars,” the girl stammers at the very thought that a bad film with so many huge actors is actually possible.<br /><br />“The film is unadulterated gibberish if that is what you want to hear,” the journo neighs emphatically, “But we will ensure that it becomes a huge hit.” Then, the guy stops for a while and adds, "Journalism is all about ethics you know. So, if someone has spent lakhs on a junket, we need to make some sort of a contribution to make his film a success.” <br /><br />“But Sir, you blasted <em>Shudder</em> and it became a huge hit,” the wannabe starlet’s eyes light up because she has a point.<br /><br />“<em>Shu...Shudder</em>? True, we had murdered <em>Shudder</em> because not only was it a bad film but it was made on such a small budget that the producer could not organise a junket to Pondicherry of all places,” the journo nods his head in mock-disbelief, “But I guess Girlika’s fans don’t care for criticism just as she doesn’t care for clothes.” <br /><br />“Sir, a question. A small question,” Miss Wannabe leaves her seat, saunters lazily, and sits on the table right next to the newspaper clippings the man had been reading. Then, she whispers into his ears, “Sir, you are going to make a film. You are going to be yet another journo who will make a film. Can I have a small role in your film? A leeteel role Sir?”<br /><br />“You will have to, you will…”now, the journo-man is stammering, “you will have to give a screen test.”<br /><br />“Here Sir?” The girl seems keen to turn into a Buffalo girl and do an item number then and there. <br /><br />“No, no, not here. This is office, not office, this is office,” the journo has lost it, completely. <br /><br />“Cut.” In walks Virus Locha, the VJ-turned-compere who has now done his first episode of investigative journalism. The journo’s face turns white as he sees the deadly Virus with the camera crew, while the girl gets up from the table to shake his limp hand, “Sir, this is a sting operation. You have been caught on camera in a confessional mode for which we must thank you.”<br /><br />The short and plump scribe is trying to dodge the camera most desperately. He actually looks like a cookie that has crumbled on an office sofa. Now, the garrulous Virus takes over. “Journalism, we all know, is about ethics as our esteemed catch for tonight said a little while ago. Just in case you are wondering why we did a sting operation on Song TV, well, that is because we wanted to give a special twist to an episode on our month’s special guest, the rock star Sting.”Biswadeep Ghoshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05856075990233717156noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10742960.post-36355047158272277112009-02-28T00:28:00.001-08:002009-02-28T00:29:41.671-08:00LOST IN CHANDNI CHOWKThere is a boy who comes from America. An NRI, you know. There is a girl who lives in Chandni Chowk, Delhi. An IRI (Indian Residing in India), that is. There is a Kala Bandar – or, black monkey – who monkeys around, spawning destructive consequences. And oh, yes. There is an assortment of characters, each of them seeking to represent a part of life in Chandni Chowk. Delhi 6 either aspires to be a romance or a sociological portrait of life's simple charms – or both – in an area where people lead simple lives. But what we carry in our minds as the most dominant memory is Kala Bandar, whose existence isn't explained in the film's initial phase. By the time the story tells us what the Bandar is all about, we fail to comprehend why the film needed to be situated where it is. The reason: there is evil in all of us, whether or not we have lived or even been to Chandni Chowk. <br /> <br />Nobility of intentions is an essential quality of any form of creativity: or, for that matter, any constructive human activity. On that count, few would dare question the maker Rakeysh Omprakash Mehra. For, the film does show the social character of a place which has a new shade to offer in every nook and cranny of its crowded lanes and by-lanes. We come across complacent individuals who believe that what they can do, no one else can. So, there is Pawan Malhotra's character who is busy trying to repair an antiquated radio while being thoroughly convinced about his skills as an electrician. There is a corrupt cop (Vijay Raaz at his best) who not only accepts bribes but has a quasi-fascist streak in his personality. It can be argued that characters such as the cop's exist in every part of India. But somehow, it seems to fit in Mehra's scheme of things pretty well.<br /> <br />We have a pretty girl (Sonam Kapoor, who acts well but is underused) who wants to be the winner of Indian Idol instead of marrying just about any man in keeping with the norms of conventional arranged alliances. There is a patriarchal man (Om Puri), a shrewd lalaji (Prem Chopra), a dadi who wants to die in her family home (Waheeda Rehman), an elderly Begsaab (Rishi Kapoor) and even that omnipresent jalebi seller (Deepak Dobriyal). When rickshaws crawl through Chandni Chowk, this writer's mind revisited the visual feel of a place which he had experienced quite a few times till a decade ago. <br /> <br />So far, it sounds pretty good. Isn't it? Definitely yes, till we, for once, abandon the portrait with its paints and try to look at the soul of the film. What, after all, is Delhi 6 seeking to tell us? What we know for sure is that Abhishek Bachchan's character (the NRI) comes down to Chandni Chowk along with his dadi. Bachchan's character is close to that of Nagesh Kukunoor in the Hyderabad Blues. Although the former carries no memories of 'his India' unlike the latter, both the protagonists fall in love with the nation to which they actually belong. The Small B's character Roshan loses its way in the beginning. But, gradually, he begins to understand the nature of life in Chandni Chowk. Not only does he learn to accept the place, but he also gets attracted to Bittu (Sonam), a girl who wants to break the shackles of traditional ties and make an individualistic statement to the world beyond Chandni Chowk.<br /> <br />The problem – big problem – of the film is Kala Bandar. As Mehra uses Ramayana, the Ram Lila to be precise, as a symbolic representation all through the movie, the Kala Bandar is gradually explained as a metaphor for the evil in all of us. In Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights, who can forget that moment when Catherine explains her love for Heathcliff with that immortal line "I am Heathcliff"? One way of viewing that outburst is that there is a bit of Heathcliff – simply put, the negative traits in a human being – in everybody that can manifest itself in some way or the other in our lives. Mehra's symbol of evil is the black monkey, which is said to have blinking lights on its chest and looks like a gorilla of course! This is where the film loses its plot. The love story of Roshan and Bittu, which could have been shown most beautifully, gets buried by too much monkey business.<br /> <br />The ensemble cast perform wonderfully – most notably, Divya Dutta as an untouchable and Raaz – but their performances become secondary to the Bandar's metaphor which pops up time and again. Such is Mehra's preoccupation with telling a story on two parallel tracks that Rahman's exquisitely crafted music gets heard on the most inappropriate of occasions. The plot turns into one with confusion, confusion and more confusion, and what is left in the end is neither a well-developed romance nor a warm portrait of an endearing society. Sad, because even if the story did not seek to show a romance, it could have easily been a well-knit portrait of Chandni Chowk without any monkey at all. <br /> <br />Actually, Delhi 6 is a lot like the lanes of Chandni Chowk itself. There is too much overcrowding, because of which structural neatness gets lost in oblivionBiswadeep Ghoshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05856075990233717156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10742960.post-40133941891557514122009-01-23T22:05:00.000-08:002009-01-23T23:46:39.674-08:00POOR BOY, POOR MOVIEIn the not-yet-metro city of Pune, no film - English film - has 20 percent foreigners in a single show. But on the first day of one-of-the-many shows of Danny Boyle’s <em>Slumdog Millionaire</em>, the theatre seems to hold a special attraction for viewers from abroad. Most of them are carrying water bottles. Some have dressed up in ethnic wear which we, the Indians, opt for during festive occasions. Like most visitors to foreign lands, their deportment seems to suggest that they can think of Boyle’s slums as the ‘real Indeeah’ very easily. How one wishes one could tell them if that were to be true, every street in London has the Big Ben!<br /><br />Since that would sound rude, one abstains. Cut to the reel thing inside the theatre where Boyle unfolds a supposedly grand film that has won four Golden Globes and ten Oscar nominations. The director is said to have made a viewer-friendly popular classic. What is great being seldom popular – and vice versa – one wants to see <em>SM</em>. From start to finish. Without stepping out of the hall during the interval. Getting a ticket on the first day seems like an achievement straight out of fantasyland. Such is the power of Mr B and his <em>SM</em>. <br /><br />God is kind. Or, is He?<br /><br />No. For, Boyle has made a film that has a weak body and no soul. Given his passion for indulging in all things filthy, let us say that <em>SM</em> is prose in loose motion. The narrative wobbles back and forth, pausing at several phases in the past to show the tragic life of an uneducated boy who finds himself on the hot seat of the game show <em>Who Wants To Be a Millionaire?</em>. The youngster Jamal is a <em>chaiwallah</em> towards whom the game show host Prem (a superstar) shows visible contempt: much like the director’s attitude towards his portrayal of India in general. <br /><br />If Boyle has an understanding of life in the Indian slums, one surely doesn’t see it. Why he chooses to stay away from the flip side of slums is beyond comprehension: more so, because a few shots of Mumbai’s upper class life would have explained Prem’s scorn and the young man’s life below the poverty line even better. How the Golden Globe-winning writer Simon Beaufoy discovered just one abuse in Hindi that Indians use in the film cannot be understood likewise. The scene showing the Indian superstar (Amitabh Bachchan – a double of course) who signs his photograph for the young boy bathed in shit is the substance of nauseating, vomit-inducing imagination.<br /><br />As in Vikas Swarup’s utterly simplistic novel on which the film is based, the beginning of the film conveys its climax. Seated on a money-making pedestal, the fortunes of a poor little poor boy have to change overnight. In short, the underdog has to win. Tragedies promise to turn into memories eclipsed by the wealth that transforms his life all of a sudden. So what if he is uneducated? He will find answers to the questions that offer more and more money as he goes along. He will irritate Prem because the latter’s mind is trapped in the vanity of class-consciousness. He will find his childhood love who has gone on to become the mistress of a don. <br /><br />A tale of pain with a fairytale ending: that is what we expect and get, with the only surprise being the way in which Boyle treats the story. It seems as if he is directing the film for the Western audiences in a manner that is far too premeditated and shallow. If not, he is clearly influenced by the Bollywood of the 70s, which is when some of the worst Hindi films got made. In 2008, Boyle’s film joined the list of the era, making the average Indian wonder why the maker did not check the time for so long.<br /><br />Lost in a lost world. That is the essence of <em>SM</em>. Unable to ruffle us emotionally, it shows, with appalling indifference, that sad moment in which the young boy’s mother loses her life during communal riots. Although the boy’s life takes a turn for the worse after this episode, the mother's death is shown with such surgical precision that we forget it before five minutes go by. Once the boy wins the entire prize money, we hardly get a glimpse of his ecstasy and disbelief. Instead, there is an abrupt cut, because of which the viewer gets very little idea of the boy’s state of mind. Sorry, My Boyle. But isn’t the plot supposed to be high on emotional quotient? <br /><br />It is not that <em>SM</em> doesn’t tug at our heartstrings. It does, but for all the wrong reasons. When one walks out of the hall, it is with the feeling that Boyle made the mess of an opportunity to make a good film. As a viewer, everyone is prepared to accept unreality when one goes to see a film. But what could have, but doesn’t, happen in <em>SM</em>'s case is that the narrative fails to grip the viewer with its revelations of understanding and sensitivity. Slums appear but as views captured by a stoical camera. When the young boy who has been packed off for police interrogation is subjected to shocks, his suffering is buried by the sight of a fat cop whose presence gives rise to humour. The host feels that Jamal is a cheat, but there is no well-written scene which shows how the latter tries to convince the former. Since a film needs to take liberties with a novel’s structure, shouldn’t Boyle have conveyed the boy’s helplessness as also his inability to understand how happenstance is blessing him time and again? <br /><br />Dev Patel who plays the adult Jamal is wooden in the initial stages of the film. He picks up later, but has nothing much to do simply since the script has nothing better to offer. As the proud host whose arrogance gets switched on the moments the lights are off, Anil Kapoor does a fine job. Frieda Pinto in the role of Jamal’s lover is a bad choice, but Irrfan Khan comes up with a good show as the inspector interrogating the man. Saurabh Shukla as the plump cop is good, but it is impossible to figure out whether or not his character is supposed to generate humour or seriousness. Among the film’s strengths is the cinematography, and AR Rahman’s background score which tries to elevate the scenes to a much higher level.<br /><br />If there are so many minuses, how has <em>SM</em> managed to garner so much critical acclaim? The answer is a bit like the mystery behind Boyle’s treatment of the film. It is impossible to understand.Biswadeep Ghoshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05856075990233717156noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10742960.post-51731584173249866142009-01-16T20:05:00.000-08:002009-01-16T20:18:13.179-08:00SRK: THE INCOMPLETE BIOGRAPHYOf all the Hall of Fame unauthorized biographies I wrote a few years ago, the one on Shah Rukh Khan did the best. Although it feels good to have written books on stars which did not rely on their personal inputs – if one follows that route, honesty can get diluted from time to time – what I would genuinely like to do is write the SRK book all over again. That is not because I want to get many more good, bad and mixed reviews, or hit the bookstores with another one which will fly off the racks for sure. On the contrary, after watching SRK evolve as an actor in the last few years, I have started believing that some of his best characters have hit the big screen in the recent past. <br /> <br />This is not to say that SRK did not come up with some noteworthy performances in the first half of his career. He did, with his 'K-k-k-k-kiran' act in <em>Darr</em> that triggered off his ascent towards invincible superstardom; his endearing performance in <em>Kabhi Haan Kabhi Naa</em>; and, of course, when he turned into Raj in <em>DDLJ</em> that made him the lover boy millions fell in love with. <br /> <br />Even those who hated the star – that number being less than a few – could not help confessing that his spontaneity imparted a special appeal to his characters. All his popular performances need not have been great, but they surely struck a chord with the masses who wanted to see more and more of the guy. He may not have looked as good as Aamir or Salman, the two Khans he competed with. But, he was ahead in terms of his popularity for the most part of his career.<br /> <br />He was the leader. No doubt about it. And, he continues to retain the number one throne despite Aamir's diversity and quest for perfectionism, Salman's glittering charisma and Akshay Kumar's emphatic emergence. There have been times when there have been talks about his slipping away – think Hrithik Roshan of a few years ago, and you have the answer – but he has kept the spot with himself on the whole. To say that is difficult would be the understatement of the century. That, to start with, is why I miss some more pages in the book.<br /> <br />But the main reason, as stated earlier, is the performance factor. Although <em>Swades</em> did not rock the box-office and received highly unfair reviews on occasions, few would question that SRK as Mohan Bhargava is as believable as he could have been. When he is at NASA as a scientist, we like him. But, we enjoy even more when he returns to India and starts working for the welfare of the downtrodden.<br /> <br />The character has a sense of purpose, and his philanthropic mindset makes us think twice about the lives we were leading. So good is SRK's performance that we actually forget the man himself when we see Bhargava. Considering his stature as a star, pulling off an act like that couldn't have been easy. After the performance, SRK made many rethink about his prowess as actor, which had often been obscured by the sheer weight of his superstardom. As Mohan Bhargava, he <em>is</em> Mohan Bhargava. That is all.<br /> <br />However, the two characters with which SRK seems to have conquered newer pastures are those of Kabir Khan in <em>Chak De! India</em> and Surinder Sahni in <em>Rab Ne…</em>. As the hockey coach of the Indian women's team whose reputation had been sullied in the past, SRK's Kabir is awesome. The character's frustration shows, and so does his willpower to make something happen when he gets the coach's assignment. Kabir's desire to prove a point and his methods as a coach makes him a very interesting and intriguing personality. When I think of it today, nobody apart from SRK would have been able to pull off the act with so much conviction.<br /> <br />At the risk of getting a lot of flak, and mainly because <em>Rab Ne…</em> does not have a great script like <em>Chak De!...</em>, I would rate SRK's Surinder Sahni in the former as highly as any other character he has essayed so far. Why I think so is since Surinder is one more regular guy whose personality becomes credible only if SRK's superstardom is forgotten completely. A diffident man with a good soul, Surinder in his bespectacled avatar is light years away from the six-packed guy that SRK actually is. It is a beautifully written character – unlike the entire film which has its loopholes – and the superstar simply makes sure that people walk out of the hall, thinking about Surinder instead of the guy who played the role.<br /> <br />As a writer of a book on SRK, I miss an exclusive chapter on these characters today. They have influenced the way in which I think of SRK as an actor, but there isn't anything I can do since the book was published a few years ago. But then, there could come a time when I will write another one on the star. Or may be, I will get a chance to edit the book and make it new.Biswadeep Ghoshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05856075990233717156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10742960.post-48764988456000584412009-01-14T21:48:00.000-08:002009-01-14T21:53:03.174-08:00HOW BUTCH CASSIDY...CHANGED MY LIFEWhen I was a child, I loved Westerns. Clint Eastwood, Steve McQueen, Yul Brynner…I would love to make a list of stars who I admired in that cowboy hat, carrying a gun which made the ultimate statement of masculinity. As a kid, I never looked for logic in any of the stories. Naturally, since I never even realized that films were driven by some kind of coherence in the narrative. Being young has its advantages, you know.<br /> <br />Then came a time when my voyage of discovery took me to diverse cinematic worlds. I had grown older and, suddenly, the average Western seemed to be riddled with loopholes. To start with, the Good versus Evil angle was too clearly defined. The grey streaks in a 'good' guy's character justified themselves most automatically. More often than not, a bad guy was simply bad who was meant to be killed. Women occupied the ambiguous fringes, so much so that one was made to wonder what they were doing in the film anyway. The narrative was generally like the ambience of the plot: there was absolute lawlessness without any creative explanation whatsoever. <br /> <br />Like many young film lovers who had started to watch films that looked around the stereotype, my disillusionment tormented me a lot. I wanted to see a more evolved <em>Django</em>, but that was difficult to find. I wanted to hear background music that sounded completely different. This was the time when raindrops kept falling on my head all of a sudden. I loved the feeling since they made me believe how and why Westerns could go well beyond the kill-and-end and got-the-treasure formulas. I enjoyed the way Butch thought. I loved the way the Sundance Kid did his shooting act. The climax made my low just as the twosome's famous jump from the cliff made me smile. <br /> <br />Two decades after I saw the film for the first time, I continue to return to <em>Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid</em> over and over again. And, I am sure I am not the only one who turns into a part of the gang that Butch heads before his life takes a turn for the different. Be it George Roy Hill's direction or William Goldman's script – and of course, the chemistry between Paul 'Butch' Newman and Robert 'Sundance' Redford – the film has so many strengths that the ultimate product goes to a different level altogether. <br /> <br />As far as I am concerned, the film's real hero is the script. The two main characters - both mavericks in their own ways, and out to make a fortune - are a study in contrast. Butch is a man of ideas, and miles away from the stereotyped Western hero therefore. When he returns to his gang with Sundance and finds a character (Ted Cassidy) waiting to take over, for instance, he challenges the guy and makes him hit the ground with a kick! <br /> <br />That is a hilarious moment, as is the occasion when both Sundance and Butch need to swim to escape: but, the former makes a sudden confession that he doesn't know how to do it. While Butch is taken aback, we, as the viewers, cannot keep our laughter in check. Again, when Butch rides the bike – with the lovely Katherine Ross who plays Sundance's girlfriend for company – the song 'Raindrops keep falling on my head' makes us think: hey, is this a Western, or something completely different? <br /> <br />Why the chemistry between Butch and Sundance works is because the latter is very close to the mainstream Western hero. Hats off to Goldman, who thought of an idea in which opposites could combine and create so much of an impact, and also because he introduced humour so subtly that we were made to rewind the DVD and watch the scenes time and again. The climax was brilliantly written, the sadness in the twosome's deaths shown with a visual that made an unforgettable impact.<br /> <br />If this film hadn't won so many Academy Award nominations – and picked up four eventually – it would have been shocking. And, I am sure there are others like me who started believing how Westerns could deliver so much more just because they saw this one. <em>Brokeback Mountain </em> or <em>even Dead Man</em>: there have been many films whose background is typically Western but whose content inhabits some other world altogether. Don't know how many of them were inspired by <em>Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid</em>.Biswadeep Ghoshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05856075990233717156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10742960.post-90230099410143057642008-12-29T20:26:00.000-08:002008-12-29T21:03:32.630-08:00ROLE OF A PERFORMANCEIs Aamir Khan the greatest Indian actor in today's times? No, he is not. Is he the biggest star? No, not that either. The best way to define Aamir is that he is a star who seeks otherness in what he does. There have been times when his choices have been highly questionable. He has also been accused of ghost-directing his films, which is something only a director who has fallen out with him can prove. <br /> <br />But Ghajini, despite its structural loopholes and the actor's eagerness to flaunt his newly built muscles, manifests a fact once more. In other words, Aamir Khan works hard: one could say, more than most of his fellow stars have ever done. (If any of his counterparts works harder, it certainly doesn't show).<br /> <br />Cut to Aamir in Ghajini which should possibly be the biggest blockbuster of 2008. As a character with short term memory loss on Mission Vendetta, Aamir as Sanjay Singhania exhales fury and anger. His nostrils flare up; the voice turns guttural; and the eyes show what being menacing is all about. When he wants to emancipate himself from the clutches of cops, for instance, he comes across as an untamed beast whose natural habitat is distanced from civilization by several light years.<br /> <br />Before the change takes place, the actor in his avatar of an industrialist is polished, handsome and articulate. His dress sense (thanks to Van Heusen?) makes statements of uniqueness every time we see him onscreen. But, once his character undergoes a transformation – after the brutal murder of his girlfriend as also the injury to the head – what we see is a man which is as distanced from the industrialist as the Nile is from the Ganges.<br /> <br />The sophistication is gone. Understandable, since he has forgotten what being polished is all about. While one can question how he manages to have an unchanged haircut all through, Aamir's sincerity is visible in each and every frame. As the revenge seeker, he makes Singhania as memorable as his near-perfect act of ACP Rathore in Sarfarosh.<br /> <br />Why the performance merits admiration is mainly because of his ability to conquer the limitations imposed by a flaw-laden script. Not only that, there are other bad eggs in the basket too. Pradeep Rawat as the villain (complete with the golden tooth popularized by Eli Wallach in The Magnificent Seven) is an absolute disaster. Jiah Khan fumbles her way through a badly written role of a young student of medicine who decides to become a sleuth without any explanation whatsoever. Songs assault the viewer out of the blue, breaking the tempo of a fast moving plot guiltlessly.<br /> <br />So many shortcomings could have killed a film: even if we were to keep aside, the human tendency to nitpick for the heck of it. But, the reality is that Ghajini is a super hit already. Aamir is the only reason, the only explanation. The film's fate shows the difference one performance can make.Biswadeep Ghoshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05856075990233717156noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10742960.post-24214050818199628202008-12-02T00:09:00.000-08:002008-12-02T03:39:28.830-08:00WHAT WAS, ISKasab has no regrets. Terrorism never does. Have you ever heard of insane sanity? You couldn’t have. It is bloody meaningless. Hence, Kasab, a killer behind the bars, who has no regrets at all.<br /><br />Kasab’s photograph – with his eyes glowing and an AK-47 in hand - has become the defining face of urban Indian terror. During 9/11, none of us saw the abhorrence in the pilots’ eyes when suicide aerial missions devastated the World Trade Center. But, terrorism on the streets, at the CST station, and inside the Taj, the Trident-Oberoi and Nariman House, left behind killers’ images which will molest the recesses of collective human memory.<br /><br />Not that terrorism is anything new. It has been there, and always will be. Ransacking hearts. Brutalising bodies. Shocking with its' premeditated suddenness. Such is the horror of terrorism that its' manifestations in the pages of fiction turn into causes of concern for us. Same for textbooks where we have discovered, since childhood, that a great deal of history is heartless savagery. The rest form the basis of civilised human existence. But, the dry blood on those pages doesn’t disturb us like the Taliban or the LeT because they exist amidst us. The ideology is the same: killing for a cause. But, the quest for their perception of justice – and, for many, the choice of martyrdom – is eclipsed by the approach which makes them anti-innocent, anti-constructive and anti-civilisation. <br /><br />Where there is goodness, the presence of demolishers is a must. In that sense, we can only minimise terrorism and not annihilate it. Also, we must not forget that modern-day guns only add to the script authored by barbaric medievalism. Why the modern-day terrorist seems more destructive is because the arms and ammunition have changed; the population has shot up; and the media tells stories that horrify us like never before. Take them away, and you will find the footprints of a million other Kasabs in the history of time.<br /><br />Mumbai has been at the receiving end of most terrorist savagery, and that’s since one assault on the city can drive the nation berserk. The city needs protective gear which is non-existent. Dismissing a handful of individuals is not the solution as long as the system isn’t overhauled completely. If the NSG doesn’t have its' own plane to attend to exigencies, why does it exist anyway? If the city’s firemen have merely two bullet-proof jackets, how can they save their own lives while extinguishing the fire? If the Chief Minister of the State takes a filmmaker along with him to an encounter site, how serious is he about addressing the issue of terror? If the Deputy CM finds the devastation a ‘small incident’, why is he the Deputy CM for?<br /><br />When the society lacks discipline and unified action, terrorism thrives. It kills and disappears, and kills to hibernate once more. Death and destruction by capitalising on the loose ends of a system: terrorism is all about that. Like a tiger on the prowl, it hunts for any one weak loophole if systemic complacence doesn’t grant it a tourist visa. Whether or not India will achieve a metamorphosis overnight is anybody’s guess. As of now, the masses need to be far more vigilant as they go through their daily lives, knowing what an ancient formula in its modern manifestation can do to the society at large.Biswadeep Ghoshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05856075990233717156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10742960.post-61548443636085218492008-11-27T06:02:00.000-08:002008-11-27T19:19:10.779-08:00NOTHING (For Jane Frostina, my Life in the time of Death)Come tomorrow, and reams of newsprint will spell out just one word: MUMBAI. Many have died, and some others might collapse in the hospital. But, we can do nothing. Such is the heartless iniquity of some self-centred assholes that Mumbai’s soul is afraid of dying for ever. But, we can do nothing. The small screen is consuming hours of footage, telling us a story that is hurting us. But, we can do nothing except sit near the TV, shivering at the thought of what is happening. Once mentally screwed up, we can reach out for the remote and move over to some channel that gives us momentary peace. Because of what we are, and because of what we cannot be, we can do nothing. <br /><br />Heard a politician just now. He was saying, “We condemn the attack….” Condemn: that word has turned into a convenient escape route for these suited-booted netas. Can we ban its usage or, at least, make it a synonym for ‘praise’ so that no politician would dare use the word to express his ‘compassion’ and conceal a systemic failure? Perhaps, we could, if we start a campaign to tell what condemn does not mean when used after a terrorist attack. But, we can do nothing since we know what language can do. Once used by the system that has failed, it turns into a tool that manufactures myths and feeds the masses. <br /><br />Yes. We can do nothing. <br /><br />The heart is hopeful. Tomorrow might change, it wants us to believe. But the mind, the rational part of our being, offers a different picture. Tomorrow will not change even if we want it to, it tells us. If America could not anticipate 9/11 – an expression repeated so often that we are tired of it – how can India, poor India, expect what the messiahs of doom have in mind? In today’s times, 9/11 has come to symbolize a defence mechanism rather than a tragedy that brought down the World Trade Center.<br /><br />Just as ‘condemn’ has become an easy-to-use expression, 9/11 is a metaphor that is repeatedly flogged to say why nothing is right with the world. Have we sat back and actually bothered to calculate how often India has been assaulted in recent years, and how badly it fares when compared to most other countries? We may have, or we may not have. Does not make a difference, does it? We can brood, cry, shout, whatever. <br /><br />But, we can do nothing. <br /><br />A few days later, the world will ‘salute the spirit of Mumbai’. Even as many will hide their tears to board trains and reach their distant workplaces, those who have suffered no personal tragedy will write about the city’s ‘resilience'. Every time Mumbai gets back on its feet, what sort of resilience do these bullshitters talk about? Do they know what it means to lose a cousin to a blast? Have they even been close to a train that has been blown to pieces? Have they seen the rich and the poor rush inside hospitals in a tragic manifestation of egalitarianism? Have they ever done anything that has touched a single person’s life? Even as we wonder when the world will come to end, we have reasons to hate everyone who camouflages his absence of sensitivity with a sequence of well-rehearsed words. <br /><br />But, we cannot stop such people from talking rubbish. We cannot believe in a system that fails repeatedly. We cannot expect more dynamism from our politicians. We cannot stop blasts, shootouts, deaths, and all those bloody AK-47s which can permeate Mumbai with the ease of an amoeba. That being the case, is there any damn thing we can actually do?<br /><br />Forget it, my friends. Why discuss it anyway? For, think as we might, try as we can, we can do nothing.Biswadeep Ghoshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05856075990233717156noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10742960.post-37630015677262604422008-11-25T20:34:00.000-08:002008-11-25T20:37:16.552-08:00BAND IN THE LAND OF DEATHWe have been hearing some strange music for a while. In the heavy metal track called <em>Life</em> by the Band of Death, the sound of erratic and loud percussion is missing. Where is the BoD's savage drummer The Terrorist, who rips up the fabric of old-fashioned peace with his wild rhythm patterns from time to time? Because of his hibernation, <em>Life</em> won't make news. In the heavy metal world of bomb-dom, the song's minimalism can never work because there won't be any blood on the tracks.<br /> <br />Most of us don't know why the BoD is such a huge success. With its songs titled <em>Blood</em>, <em>Devastation</em> and <em>Kill When You Can</em> – the last giving rise to the word bomb-dom – it has rocked the establishment like nothing ever has. Whenever the band has performed, the masses have been pulverized and the hospitals over-burdened by colossal tragedies. After the act has packed up and left for some other city to play the same songs, the all-lying politicians have groped for explanations about why they came, how they performed, and why they disappeared before the establishment reacted to the possibility of their arrival in the city.<br /> <br />All we know about the BoD is that The Terrorist is a drums-pounding robot who has a blast from time to time. Although his rhythms are monitored by a faceless enigma from a vague somewhere, he is the star of every BoD rock show that assaults us out of blue. Seldom does the establishment track down his act because The Terrorist himself does not know when he is going to play, and where. He destroys because he is drugged; while the mastermind who supplies the narcotics never shows up because he does not have the courage to confront the establishment.<br /> <br />If The Terrorist can't be heard in <em>Life</em> today, that is since the brain behind tracks like <em>Blood</em> and <em>Devastation</em> is busy composing a new song somewhere. So, let us not take <em>Life</em> too seriously. It is not worth it, <em>Devastation</em> being that super hit BoD track we will hear soon.Biswadeep Ghoshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05856075990233717156noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10742960.post-18621553410698649652008-11-16T22:14:00.000-08:002008-11-16T22:18:41.542-08:00BEING DEADI met Peter’s body recently. He had died sometime back. Happens, you know. Meeting a dead man, talking to him while knowing that his soul has drifted out of the mortal body a few days back, realising that life goes on but not for ever: death being a form of living just as truth seems like storytelling often. <br /><br />Peter had died; neglected, forgotten, his body was rotting. Possibly, that is what epitomizes urban isolation. Decanted into a vacuum of solitude for being a bastard, there was he, trying to put his stubborn soul back into the body while it tried to escape through a tiny aperture. Like most stupid people trying to postpone death, Peter was seeking life.<br /><br />“Can you help please? Please catch hold of my soul and bring it back to me.”<br /><br />“Show me where it is. I will try,” I said, desperate to help but unable to see the soul.<br /><br />“See, see, it is there. There, please,” he beseeched, a sequence of staccato utterances trembling out of his dry mouth. Only dead people see souls, which he did. <br /><br />I pretended to try but couldn’t. When the soul ditches the body, there is nothing one can do. <br /><br />In life, there often comes a time when helplessness guillotines the nobility of human intentions. Much as I hated Peter, I had met him at a juncture when his desire for mere life had buried all my negative thoughts about the man. The tears in his eyes, his sweat-drenched face, that guilty look which seemed to summarise his penitence for a sin-laden existence, his unkempt hair and beard, the sight of him lying crumbled on the floor: they had driven away my contempt for a man whose only achievement in life was his uselessness. But, he wanted to live. He wanted a second chance, and there was none.<br /><br />“Sorry, Peter. There is nothing I can do,” I murmured, and dashed out of the room before he could say a word. <br /><br />“Please, please come back. I beg of you. Please.” I could hear his voice, which faded into inaudibility once I had left the compound of his house. My inability to do anything had taught me a lesson, one I shall never forget. <br /><br />Impossible is not a word in the dictionary of fools. Just stay away from dead men.Biswadeep Ghoshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05856075990233717156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10742960.post-25758146426878458112008-08-22T08:34:00.000-07:002008-08-25T07:13:41.724-07:00YESTERDAY ONCE MOREThe Beatles disintegrated around the time I was born. In that sense, I ‘happened’ well after The Beatles did. Having grown up with the sound of pop acts like Boney M and Abba – they compelled me to wipe the dust off dog-eared LPs to hear stuff like Pat Boone’s <em>Baby Elephant Walk</em> – I was awe-struck after the discovery of a sleeve-less EP with the words <em>Roll ‘n’ Roll Music</em>. The endearing restlessness in the song held me captive. The singer’s guttural voice rose above the strains of instrumentation time and again. The sharp edge in his vocals made statements of passion, the ‘why’ of which I couldn’t have known. It was like reading <em>Gulliver’s Travels</em> during childhood, and thinking of it as <em>Little Tommy Tucker</em> in prose. Lovely book that indeed was. But I hadn't understood the satire then. <br /><br />When I saw <em>Across The Universe</em> last week, I did not know who the director Julie Taymor was. Not that I know much about her seven days later, but for the fact that she is a genius. After all, how else can you describe a person who had the vision to direct a film that weaves songs from The Beatles to tell a love story in the backdrop of 60s America, England and Vietnam of course? How else do you – sorry, can you – assess a story whose protagonists are Jude (from the track <em>Hey Jude</em>) and Lucy whose name owes itself to John Lennon’s acid-driven <em>Lucy in The Sky With</em>… you-know-what?<br /><br />What can say about an insight which believes that the counter-revolutionary should be named Max, which expands to Maxwell, from the track <em>Maxwell’s Silver Hammer</em> whose lyrics seem to suggest that something has gone wrong? Max detests the establishment represented by obvious metaphors like the Ivy League institution he attends and also by the members of his family. But his attitude from the very first shot shows that something is coming, a something that will aim at hurting the system which it tries not to belong to. Impracticality and unbridled energy drive the guy. The result is Vietnam.<br /><br />Then, there are the songs. When Jude leaves for America, he sings <em>All My Loving</em> to make a statement of commitment to his lover (not Lucy, please. That would have screwed the story completely). You could say that one is predictable, and indeed it is. But, Lennon, McCartney and co. surely knew how to hypnotise with effortless simplicity, and the song makes a similar impact when we hear ‘I will pretend I am kissing/The lips I am missing.’ Oh yes, it does. <br /><br />The best interpretation (among the many brilliant ones, if I may add) is that of <em>Let It Be</em>, one of the most touching cuts ever sung by anybody. Set against the backdrop of the Detroit riots, the eyes moisten when we see a little black boy, reminding of a ball of inflammable cotton lying neglected behind a damaged car, who sings the lines with fear in his heart and tears in his eyes. When we see the boy’s funeral as also the death of a white soldier in distant Vietnam, the message of the twin inevitability hits us hard, really hard. <em>Come Together</em> depicts the energy in New York’s life, while the fun and the frolic in a bowling alley find a musical ally in <em>I’ve Just Seen A Face</em>. <br /><br />The film has more. Bono does a fun cameo as a Ken Kesey-like guru; Salma Hayek is just a nurse; a guitarist reminds of Jimi Hendrix; Sadie’s character is a take on Janis Joplin; and, all this when the core is essentially a love story. While being visually stunning – the film could have been a sequence of meticulously planned stills – the ambience defines the spirit of the 60s. Of an era, which startled us with its dope and politics and several small and big revolutions and the never-say-die spirit of some who made sure that those years did not leave us even after becoming a phase from long, long ago. <br /><br />If one may quote thinker Erich Fromm, it makes us think about the difference between the ‘being’ and ‘having’ modes of existence. Living in times that can be best described as appallingly confused, it makes us pray for yesterday once more.Biswadeep Ghoshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05856075990233717156noreply@blogger.com2