BY BISWADEEP GHOSH
Just the excerpts, friends. Would not bore you with the details. Pakitan are leading by 518 runs, yet some believe India can pull it off. At least get an honourable draw, that is. Never mind if Faisal Iqbal has scored a century and looks hardly ruffled. Never mind if Razzaq is giving him good company while Kamran Akmal, who gave so much grief to the Indians in the first innings, is yet to come.
BG: We are dead and gone. We have been murdered by a smart gameplan.
PATRIOT: Cricket is a game in which everything is possible. Remember that records are made to be broken.
BG: But a lead of 518 runs with two days to go? And, Pakistan still have five batsmen left.
P: If they can do it, why can't we? Our batting line-up is better than theirs.
BG: Too many problems, boss. Sehwag has a bad second innings track record, Sachin has not been in the best of touch to say the least. So, who will do the magic for us?
P: Dravid and Laxman. Don't you dare forget what they did to Australia. Then, there is Yuvraj. He has played some great innings. And Ganguly of course.
BG: Ganguly? But two days back, you are the one who called him a liability, a good for nothing, a man who does nothing but politics.
P: That was then. This is now. After watching him play the way he did in the first innings, I seriously feel he is all set for a big one. He will save India from losing the match and the series.
Dear readers,
You think this posting is fiction? Even I would have thought so had the person had not spoken to me just about 15 minutes ago. Anything for India, the winning team, what say you? Even if that means having to watch Sourav Ganguly score a century and bail India out.
Patriotism: we, the Indians, can redefine what the word means every week. One connotation, as of now, is that some serious Ganguly haters are ready to suffer him for the time-being.
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
WHOSE IDOL IS ABHIJIT SAWANT ANYWAY?
BY BISWADEEP GHOSH
While visiting Pune, veteran music composer O P Nayyar said that shows like Indian Idol did not mean much to him. Nayyar should know. After all, he is the man who crafted some of the most beautiful tunes Asha Bhonsle has ever sung in her entire career. Nayyar explored the Western idiom often, yet his songs had an unmistakable Indian identity, one of the reasons why Nayyar's originals are still heard in the 'real' India while in the confused cosmos, people indulge in the retro remixes of his tracks and jive with them at nightspots.
Why should Nayyar not be critical about such talent hunt shows is a question one must ask. Firstly, most of these guys who come to the shows are seekers of limelight, not expertise. Lots of money and incentives are on offer. The programmes are telecast, and re-telecast, on major channels. Those with mediocre voices get past those with bad voices. They become celebrities overnight.
Think Abhijit Sawant, Qazi, Ruprekha Banerjee. Their discs might be circulating in the market, and I am sure have been picked up by many hopefuls who feel that if guys with such voices can make it, why can't we? But, does that make them good singers? No way. The only person who has proved to be a serious exception to this reality is Shreya Ghoshal. But then, Shreya did not need to have a great personality to make a musical point. She had to sing which she did very well, and today, she is one of the better talents in the country.
Eventually, somebody like Qazi will have to hardsell himself as a singer if he is not looking at a career in acting. But, is Qazi prepared for it despite being splashed on the cover of leading magazines? He is not, if one goes by what one heard in his album Jodi No.1 with Ruprekha. He needs some serious practice, he needs to try out a variety of tracks, possibly even undergo some regular classical grooming to get his basics right. Or else, he will be just one of those guys who came out of nowhere and disappeared in nothingness.
A veteran music composer like O P Nayyar knows the perils of premature superstardom. Anybody who views music as something that is meant to be heard and not seen will agree with him.
While visiting Pune, veteran music composer O P Nayyar said that shows like Indian Idol did not mean much to him. Nayyar should know. After all, he is the man who crafted some of the most beautiful tunes Asha Bhonsle has ever sung in her entire career. Nayyar explored the Western idiom often, yet his songs had an unmistakable Indian identity, one of the reasons why Nayyar's originals are still heard in the 'real' India while in the confused cosmos, people indulge in the retro remixes of his tracks and jive with them at nightspots.
Why should Nayyar not be critical about such talent hunt shows is a question one must ask. Firstly, most of these guys who come to the shows are seekers of limelight, not expertise. Lots of money and incentives are on offer. The programmes are telecast, and re-telecast, on major channels. Those with mediocre voices get past those with bad voices. They become celebrities overnight.
Think Abhijit Sawant, Qazi, Ruprekha Banerjee. Their discs might be circulating in the market, and I am sure have been picked up by many hopefuls who feel that if guys with such voices can make it, why can't we? But, does that make them good singers? No way. The only person who has proved to be a serious exception to this reality is Shreya Ghoshal. But then, Shreya did not need to have a great personality to make a musical point. She had to sing which she did very well, and today, she is one of the better talents in the country.
Eventually, somebody like Qazi will have to hardsell himself as a singer if he is not looking at a career in acting. But, is Qazi prepared for it despite being splashed on the cover of leading magazines? He is not, if one goes by what one heard in his album Jodi No.1 with Ruprekha. He needs some serious practice, he needs to try out a variety of tracks, possibly even undergo some regular classical grooming to get his basics right. Or else, he will be just one of those guys who came out of nowhere and disappeared in nothingness.
A veteran music composer like O P Nayyar knows the perils of premature superstardom. Anybody who views music as something that is meant to be heard and not seen will agree with him.
Monday, January 30, 2006
AAMHI ASU LADKE, ANYONE?
JUST CHECK OUT KAVITA KANE'S BLOG JOKERTALK FOR A REVIEW OF AAMHI ASU LADKE, THE MUCH-APPRECIATED MARATHI FILM RELEASED RECENTLY.
Sunday, January 29, 2006
WAKE UP BUDDIES
BY BISWADEEP GHOSH
Rang De Basanti takes the viewer by complete surprise. For, here is a story of five young men who are completely disillusioned with the nation itself. They see no hope, no present. As DJ (Aamir Khan) says in the film, one leg of every Indian is on the past, the other on the future. And, the person is happily peeing on the present!
Have you read Hanif Kureishi's Black Album, a novel in which the writer says there was nothing the people could seek inspiration from? There were no politicians, no statesman, nothing at all except The Beatles. In Rakeysh Omprakash Mehra's Rang De..., even The Beatles are missing. All you have are a bunch of students who hang around in the university, having chai while watching a television which needs the occasional slap to work properly.
Not that Mehra has got everything right. Atul Kulkarni's character of Laxman Pandey, a right wing activist, is marred by a grave foible. Kulkarni does a fine job, but where the script goes wrong is when he comes forward to play the role of the patriot Ram Prasad Bismil for a documentary on Indian revolutionaries being made by Sue (Alice Patten). One would have understood if he had reacted to the death of the fighter pilot Ajay (R Madhavan) and joined hands with the five young men in a plot to eliminate the defence minister (Mohan Agashe). But Laxman Pandey as an actor? Wrong choice.
Where Rang De really scores is firstly because of the wit. Although the bit about Aamir Khan and his method acting has been stretched too far, the fact remains that Aamir plays the role of DJ brilliantly. Right after the debacle called Mangal Pandey, and despite the fact that he plays a guy who is supposed to be 15 years younger than him, he successfully manages to finish off any cynicism that people might have had due to the age factor. He speaks in a rustic Punjabi accent all through, making an unexpected shift to regular Hindi just once when his friend's mother (Waheeda Rehman) is rushed to the hospital. But when he cracks a joke, the entire auditorium laughs with him.
Among the others, Sharman Joshi who plays the joker of the gang (Sukhi) is superb. Not many thought that Sharman was any great shakes as an actor, not surprising because his body of work had nothing to write home about. But here, he comes up with a first-rate performance, matching Aamir frame for frame in a scene when he wants to avoid doing the seemingly impossible. Siddharth who plays Karan is wonderful when he expresses his anguish through silences. But when he turns into an announcer to describe a huge bit of news to listeners, his voice lets him down.
Kunal Kapoor has the gravity required for the character of Aslam, while Madhavan does a great job with the small role of the fighter pilot whose death catalyses an act that stirs the entire nation. A few words about the two ladies, Alice Patten and Soha Ali Khan. Although this film is dominated by the guys, Alice as Sue and Soha as Sonia have performed most commendably.
The emotional exchanges between Sue and DJ are as subtle as possible, while Ajay and Sonia share an equally beautiful relationship. Mehra hasn't gone overboard while depicting either, thereby making it clear that he did not intend to make a romance but a film that deals with the harsh truths of life. These truths are camouflaged by humour and light moments, but we all know that the director isn't seeking an escape route. Only, he is trying to make the experience of watching it as comfortable as possible.
By now, the climax of the film is well-known. The young men kill the defence minister in a reaction to the death of the fighter pilot because the minister has been guilty of buying cheap parts, thereby endangering the lives of pilots. Such transactions are just one of the problems crippling the nation, and that one needs to deal with them is the message that resonates all through the plot. Is killing the ministers a solution? Certainly not, since it seems like radical Syndicalism that no modern social system can accept.
What it means is that the youth of the country need to come forward and act if the ailments are to be eradicated. Significant message, very well told and, hopefully, a handful will respond to the need for acting. For, sadly, the nation has been chug-chugging towards complete anarchy, and we have been guilty of accepting the state of affairs because we have been sleeping all through. When we have acted, it is as if we have practising somnambulism.
We have suffered far too much, and for far too long. Seriously.
Rang De Basanti takes the viewer by complete surprise. For, here is a story of five young men who are completely disillusioned with the nation itself. They see no hope, no present. As DJ (Aamir Khan) says in the film, one leg of every Indian is on the past, the other on the future. And, the person is happily peeing on the present!
Have you read Hanif Kureishi's Black Album, a novel in which the writer says there was nothing the people could seek inspiration from? There were no politicians, no statesman, nothing at all except The Beatles. In Rakeysh Omprakash Mehra's Rang De..., even The Beatles are missing. All you have are a bunch of students who hang around in the university, having chai while watching a television which needs the occasional slap to work properly.
Not that Mehra has got everything right. Atul Kulkarni's character of Laxman Pandey, a right wing activist, is marred by a grave foible. Kulkarni does a fine job, but where the script goes wrong is when he comes forward to play the role of the patriot Ram Prasad Bismil for a documentary on Indian revolutionaries being made by Sue (Alice Patten). One would have understood if he had reacted to the death of the fighter pilot Ajay (R Madhavan) and joined hands with the five young men in a plot to eliminate the defence minister (Mohan Agashe). But Laxman Pandey as an actor? Wrong choice.
Where Rang De really scores is firstly because of the wit. Although the bit about Aamir Khan and his method acting has been stretched too far, the fact remains that Aamir plays the role of DJ brilliantly. Right after the debacle called Mangal Pandey, and despite the fact that he plays a guy who is supposed to be 15 years younger than him, he successfully manages to finish off any cynicism that people might have had due to the age factor. He speaks in a rustic Punjabi accent all through, making an unexpected shift to regular Hindi just once when his friend's mother (Waheeda Rehman) is rushed to the hospital. But when he cracks a joke, the entire auditorium laughs with him.
Among the others, Sharman Joshi who plays the joker of the gang (Sukhi) is superb. Not many thought that Sharman was any great shakes as an actor, not surprising because his body of work had nothing to write home about. But here, he comes up with a first-rate performance, matching Aamir frame for frame in a scene when he wants to avoid doing the seemingly impossible. Siddharth who plays Karan is wonderful when he expresses his anguish through silences. But when he turns into an announcer to describe a huge bit of news to listeners, his voice lets him down.
Kunal Kapoor has the gravity required for the character of Aslam, while Madhavan does a great job with the small role of the fighter pilot whose death catalyses an act that stirs the entire nation. A few words about the two ladies, Alice Patten and Soha Ali Khan. Although this film is dominated by the guys, Alice as Sue and Soha as Sonia have performed most commendably.
The emotional exchanges between Sue and DJ are as subtle as possible, while Ajay and Sonia share an equally beautiful relationship. Mehra hasn't gone overboard while depicting either, thereby making it clear that he did not intend to make a romance but a film that deals with the harsh truths of life. These truths are camouflaged by humour and light moments, but we all know that the director isn't seeking an escape route. Only, he is trying to make the experience of watching it as comfortable as possible.
By now, the climax of the film is well-known. The young men kill the defence minister in a reaction to the death of the fighter pilot because the minister has been guilty of buying cheap parts, thereby endangering the lives of pilots. Such transactions are just one of the problems crippling the nation, and that one needs to deal with them is the message that resonates all through the plot. Is killing the ministers a solution? Certainly not, since it seems like radical Syndicalism that no modern social system can accept.
What it means is that the youth of the country need to come forward and act if the ailments are to be eradicated. Significant message, very well told and, hopefully, a handful will respond to the need for acting. For, sadly, the nation has been chug-chugging towards complete anarchy, and we have been guilty of accepting the state of affairs because we have been sleeping all through. When we have acted, it is as if we have practising somnambulism.
We have suffered far too much, and for far too long. Seriously.
THIRD-DEGREE TORTURE FOR BOWLERS
BY BISWADEEP GHOSH
Is this cricket? One was forced to ask this question after watching the first two Tests in the highly awaited Indo-Pak series. Most batsmen had a ball, almost everyone seemed capable of scoring centuries, while the bowlers toiled endlessly. And it seemed, rather needlessly. So 'batsman-friendly' were the pitches that, believe me, even Sourav Ganguly could have hammered a hundred if he was given an opportunity. After all, he is known to make the most of favourable situations, isn't he? Tons against Namibia, Holland -- they are too recent to be forgotten.
The idea is not to make a scapegoat out of Ganguly. That must be left to Greg Chappell and company, who are doing a spectacular job anyway. What needs to be emphasised is that the brains behind the cricketing pitches have no business to reduce quality bowlers to jokers. In the first innings of the first Test, Pakistan posted a formidable total of 679 for seven declared. Younis Khan, Mohammed Yousuf, Shahid Afridi and Kamran Akmal scored centuries, while the Indian bowlers suffered, just suffered. The situation was loaded in Pakistan's favour, while most went on and on about how badly our players bowled.
Tongues stopped wagging when the Indians went in to bat. Virender Sehwag just went after the Pakistan bowlers, and smashed them to every possible corner of the park. In the role of an opener, Rahul Dravid played the perfect foil as the Indians put on 410 runs before losing Sehwag. They were closing in on the world record for the opening stand held by Vinoo Mankad and Pankaj Roy, while the Pakistani attack looked much worse than India's all through. The much-hyped aggression of Shoaib Akhtar, which was being spoken about as the difference between the two teams, did not even threaten our batsmen mildly. The fault was not Shoaib's though. What could he have done when the pitch did nothing to assist him?
The second match followed the pattern of the first. Apart from an inspiring spell by Zaheer Khan, who picked up a few quick wickets in the Pakistan second innings, never for a moment did the match seem like serious cricket. The batsmen plundered each other's attacks, and improved their averages. The bowlers got murdered. In the Pakistan first innings score of 588, Inzamam-ul-Haq and Afridi scored centuries while Younis Khan missed out on one. When the Indians responded with 603, Mahendra Singh Dhoni and Dravid scored centuries. VVS Laxman and Irfan Pathan made 90 each.
Because Inzamam and Shoaib Malik did not bat, the Pakistan second innings folded up very quickly. Seriously. Despite centuries from Younis Khan and Mohammad Yusuf, the team could manage merely 490, the worst of the series. The match ended without making any vague promise of a result. The batsmen went back home happy. The bowlers left thinking why life was giving them such a bad deal. Nobody can blame them.
Why this Indo-Pak series is a horror story is since fans from both the countries expect to see serious duels on the cricketing ground. They wish to experience nail-biting moments such as those in which the pacer makes a batsman evade the cherry with short-pitched deliveries, or when the spinner deceives the batsman into playing a false shot with sublime guile. Each fan wants to see his country win, and very badly at that. One victory for India, and the entire country becomes ecstatic. One triumph for Pakistan, and everyone starts mourning.
Indo-Pak outings being emotionally charged affairs, it was highly essential that the pitches were made in such a way that they yielded results. They had to help the bowlers from time to time so that they had some hope in their hearts when they ran up to bowl. Both the teams have fine bowlers. But they needed opportunities to display their skills, which they simply did not get. What they got instead was third-degree torture on the cricketing ground.
The two Indo-Pak tests will be remembered for a long time because fans lost track of centuries. They will be even better remembered for being cruel run feasts that ended up raising the bowling averages of players from both the countries. Very sad indeed, but then a select few chose to spoil the party of millions. Guess they know why. +
(The copyright of this article rests with The Maharashtra Herald)
Is this cricket? One was forced to ask this question after watching the first two Tests in the highly awaited Indo-Pak series. Most batsmen had a ball, almost everyone seemed capable of scoring centuries, while the bowlers toiled endlessly. And it seemed, rather needlessly. So 'batsman-friendly' were the pitches that, believe me, even Sourav Ganguly could have hammered a hundred if he was given an opportunity. After all, he is known to make the most of favourable situations, isn't he? Tons against Namibia, Holland -- they are too recent to be forgotten.
The idea is not to make a scapegoat out of Ganguly. That must be left to Greg Chappell and company, who are doing a spectacular job anyway. What needs to be emphasised is that the brains behind the cricketing pitches have no business to reduce quality bowlers to jokers. In the first innings of the first Test, Pakistan posted a formidable total of 679 for seven declared. Younis Khan, Mohammed Yousuf, Shahid Afridi and Kamran Akmal scored centuries, while the Indian bowlers suffered, just suffered. The situation was loaded in Pakistan's favour, while most went on and on about how badly our players bowled.
Tongues stopped wagging when the Indians went in to bat. Virender Sehwag just went after the Pakistan bowlers, and smashed them to every possible corner of the park. In the role of an opener, Rahul Dravid played the perfect foil as the Indians put on 410 runs before losing Sehwag. They were closing in on the world record for the opening stand held by Vinoo Mankad and Pankaj Roy, while the Pakistani attack looked much worse than India's all through. The much-hyped aggression of Shoaib Akhtar, which was being spoken about as the difference between the two teams, did not even threaten our batsmen mildly. The fault was not Shoaib's though. What could he have done when the pitch did nothing to assist him?
The second match followed the pattern of the first. Apart from an inspiring spell by Zaheer Khan, who picked up a few quick wickets in the Pakistan second innings, never for a moment did the match seem like serious cricket. The batsmen plundered each other's attacks, and improved their averages. The bowlers got murdered. In the Pakistan first innings score of 588, Inzamam-ul-Haq and Afridi scored centuries while Younis Khan missed out on one. When the Indians responded with 603, Mahendra Singh Dhoni and Dravid scored centuries. VVS Laxman and Irfan Pathan made 90 each.
Because Inzamam and Shoaib Malik did not bat, the Pakistan second innings folded up very quickly. Seriously. Despite centuries from Younis Khan and Mohammad Yusuf, the team could manage merely 490, the worst of the series. The match ended without making any vague promise of a result. The batsmen went back home happy. The bowlers left thinking why life was giving them such a bad deal. Nobody can blame them.
Why this Indo-Pak series is a horror story is since fans from both the countries expect to see serious duels on the cricketing ground. They wish to experience nail-biting moments such as those in which the pacer makes a batsman evade the cherry with short-pitched deliveries, or when the spinner deceives the batsman into playing a false shot with sublime guile. Each fan wants to see his country win, and very badly at that. One victory for India, and the entire country becomes ecstatic. One triumph for Pakistan, and everyone starts mourning.
Indo-Pak outings being emotionally charged affairs, it was highly essential that the pitches were made in such a way that they yielded results. They had to help the bowlers from time to time so that they had some hope in their hearts when they ran up to bowl. Both the teams have fine bowlers. But they needed opportunities to display their skills, which they simply did not get. What they got instead was third-degree torture on the cricketing ground.
The two Indo-Pak tests will be remembered for a long time because fans lost track of centuries. They will be even better remembered for being cruel run feasts that ended up raising the bowling averages of players from both the countries. Very sad indeed, but then a select few chose to spoil the party of millions. Guess they know why. +
(The copyright of this article rests with The Maharashtra Herald)
Friday, January 27, 2006
RANG DE BASANTI: A UTOPIA WE MUST SEEK
BY KARISHMA UPADHYAY
Latest computers, the coolest phones and the newest designer brand to hit the Indian market… these are some of the things that 99.99 percent of today's youth is clued into. Oh! And, their biggest concern is also getting the highest paying job possible. After all, who cares about Bihar or Nagaland (is that in India?!)? While I was watching Rang De Basanti on the country's 56th Republic Day, the thought struck home. No one cares.
The politicians or the civil services definitely couldn't be bothered(and unfortunately no one expects them to), but what is really, really sad is that neither do the people who live in this country. The same people who complain about everything and anything in the country, wouldn't spare a minute to think about what they can do to make things right.
A simple example of this can be seen every day in Mumbai, one of country's premiere cities. Whether it's a businessman in his shiny Merc or an advertising executive in a local train, neither will think twice before littering the city. After all, how many will take the pain to carry the rubbish to the closest dustbin? Or as my husband and other friends insist – 'The city is one big dustbin, another chocolate wrapper or plastic bag will not make a difference'.
Life came to a standstill in Mumbai on July 26th, 2005 when the city was flooded after unprecedented rains. While the blame game started the next day, Mumbaikars refused to take any responsibility for the tonnes of garbage that clogged up the already inadequate drains in the city. After all, it's the government's job to clean up the city and we pay our taxes (at least most of us to). So why should we act? That was the government's job.
Getting back to Rang De Basanti, the film essentially talks about a group of five friends who have given up on the country. A simple twist in the script changed life as they know it and suddenly their passion for the country takes centre-stage. Wonder what it would take for the DKNY wearing 20 somethings in the country to wake up? I believe that the film is a must watch for young India. Even if hundred youngsters look beyond the film's basic entertainment value and think about it's
message, it would be worth all the effort that went into making the film.
It's not just about something as basic as keeping your city clean but it does start there. Bigger issues like poverty, corruption, illiteracy or unemployment can be tackled at a macro level but do anyone of us do anything at all for the city/country that we call ours. Don't need an oracle to answer this one.
Just ask yourself. And, be honest.
Bee Gee's note: Karishma works with the DNA. Having worked with her before, I have had the privilege of spoiling her birthday and making her file articles all through that special night and the next! We continue to be friends therefore. And she continues to be as mad as ever.
Latest computers, the coolest phones and the newest designer brand to hit the Indian market… these are some of the things that 99.99 percent of today's youth is clued into. Oh! And, their biggest concern is also getting the highest paying job possible. After all, who cares about Bihar or Nagaland (is that in India?!)? While I was watching Rang De Basanti on the country's 56th Republic Day, the thought struck home. No one cares.
The politicians or the civil services definitely couldn't be bothered(and unfortunately no one expects them to), but what is really, really sad is that neither do the people who live in this country. The same people who complain about everything and anything in the country, wouldn't spare a minute to think about what they can do to make things right.
A simple example of this can be seen every day in Mumbai, one of country's premiere cities. Whether it's a businessman in his shiny Merc or an advertising executive in a local train, neither will think twice before littering the city. After all, how many will take the pain to carry the rubbish to the closest dustbin? Or as my husband and other friends insist – 'The city is one big dustbin, another chocolate wrapper or plastic bag will not make a difference'.
Life came to a standstill in Mumbai on July 26th, 2005 when the city was flooded after unprecedented rains. While the blame game started the next day, Mumbaikars refused to take any responsibility for the tonnes of garbage that clogged up the already inadequate drains in the city. After all, it's the government's job to clean up the city and we pay our taxes (at least most of us to). So why should we act? That was the government's job.
Getting back to Rang De Basanti, the film essentially talks about a group of five friends who have given up on the country. A simple twist in the script changed life as they know it and suddenly their passion for the country takes centre-stage. Wonder what it would take for the DKNY wearing 20 somethings in the country to wake up? I believe that the film is a must watch for young India. Even if hundred youngsters look beyond the film's basic entertainment value and think about it's
message, it would be worth all the effort that went into making the film.
It's not just about something as basic as keeping your city clean but it does start there. Bigger issues like poverty, corruption, illiteracy or unemployment can be tackled at a macro level but do anyone of us do anything at all for the city/country that we call ours. Don't need an oracle to answer this one.
Just ask yourself. And, be honest.
Bee Gee's note: Karishma works with the DNA. Having worked with her before, I have had the privilege of spoiling her birthday and making her file articles all through that special night and the next! We continue to be friends therefore. And she continues to be as mad as ever.
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
THE PROBLEM WITH WRITING ON SALMAN
Among the four star biographies I have written -- all unauthorised or else I would have ended up writing a lot of goody goody fiction -- the one on Salman Khan did the worst. Barely one edition managed to move off the shelves as opposed to the one on Shah Rukh Khan that sold in places as remote as Nigeria and did around six-seven editions in English and Hindi. The criticism I had to confront regarding Salman was that he did not merit a place in the 'Hall of Fame', which is what the series was called. After all, he was known to be violent, he had been bad to all his girlfriends right from Sangeeta Bijlani to Somy Ali to even Aishwarya Rai. Yeah, even Aishwarya Rai. So, who the hell was I to write a book on Salman and pedestalise him alongside SRK, Aish and Hrithik?
But, there was a second view which I respect. Many film buffs who had read all the four books actually found a way to get hold of my email id, and tell me that my book on Salman was the best of the lot. I wouldn't say the best, because that would imply that the others were good which was not the case. The one on Hrithik was very average to be honest, not only because of a taxing deadline but since there was very little material on the guy who had just started out.
Why I think my book on Salman was the only good one was since it was an awfully tough challenge. The superstar's body of work was huge, and everything about his life was eventful including his childhood which was not particularly bliss-laden to say the least. His father Salim Akhtar was really hard on him. So much so that when the walls of his house had marks because Salman and younger brother Arbaaz had missed each other while trying out Kung Fu after watching a martial arts film, the dad thrashed them with a hockey stick till it broke.
Briefly, when I started out, there seemed to very little good about Salman's life which could have made for comforting reading. There was action, violence, injustice, two-three-four-timing. But as I began to explore the guy's life, I realised there were positives which few bothered to report, the reason being Salman had a particular image which was a hot seller. Salman as a man who tormented Aish --whether or not he did is a different story -- was sure to sell. But will a story that Salman was supporting 35 widows of Matheran sell? No, because none of them happened to be an Aish or even a Somy Ali. Besides, Salman seldom spoke about his personal life which only helped the media to get away with anything when it concerned his own life. He did not care. That was his biggest weakness.
When Salman's girlfriends hit out against the guy, he just kept shut, making vague statements like "Aishwarya is a good costar. It was great working with her in Hum Dil Chuke Sanam." He was the happiest guy on earth when Hrithik Roshan became a megastar after Kaho Na Pyaar Hai. He asked Somy to go ahead and sign a film with Suneil Shetty when the latter was a nobody. For years, he had been working for cancer patients while making sure that the media did not report about it. His bad side was made worse by the media's repeated assaults on the guy. But his good side was less than obscure because of his belief that if you did something good and spoke about it, what you did ceased to be good then and there.
Doing a balancing act with Salman's life was tough. Bloody tough. I would have been happy to pull that one off even if just one of my books had sold. And that too, because I had bought it.
But, there was a second view which I respect. Many film buffs who had read all the four books actually found a way to get hold of my email id, and tell me that my book on Salman was the best of the lot. I wouldn't say the best, because that would imply that the others were good which was not the case. The one on Hrithik was very average to be honest, not only because of a taxing deadline but since there was very little material on the guy who had just started out.
Why I think my book on Salman was the only good one was since it was an awfully tough challenge. The superstar's body of work was huge, and everything about his life was eventful including his childhood which was not particularly bliss-laden to say the least. His father Salim Akhtar was really hard on him. So much so that when the walls of his house had marks because Salman and younger brother Arbaaz had missed each other while trying out Kung Fu after watching a martial arts film, the dad thrashed them with a hockey stick till it broke.
Briefly, when I started out, there seemed to very little good about Salman's life which could have made for comforting reading. There was action, violence, injustice, two-three-four-timing. But as I began to explore the guy's life, I realised there were positives which few bothered to report, the reason being Salman had a particular image which was a hot seller. Salman as a man who tormented Aish --whether or not he did is a different story -- was sure to sell. But will a story that Salman was supporting 35 widows of Matheran sell? No, because none of them happened to be an Aish or even a Somy Ali. Besides, Salman seldom spoke about his personal life which only helped the media to get away with anything when it concerned his own life. He did not care. That was his biggest weakness.
When Salman's girlfriends hit out against the guy, he just kept shut, making vague statements like "Aishwarya is a good costar. It was great working with her in Hum Dil Chuke Sanam." He was the happiest guy on earth when Hrithik Roshan became a megastar after Kaho Na Pyaar Hai. He asked Somy to go ahead and sign a film with Suneil Shetty when the latter was a nobody. For years, he had been working for cancer patients while making sure that the media did not report about it. His bad side was made worse by the media's repeated assaults on the guy. But his good side was less than obscure because of his belief that if you did something good and spoke about it, what you did ceased to be good then and there.
Doing a balancing act with Salman's life was tough. Bloody tough. I would have been happy to pull that one off even if just one of my books had sold. And that too, because I had bought it.
Sunday, January 22, 2006
IF WESTERNS ARE ABOUT GAYS, CALL ME JOANNA
BY BISWADEEP GHOSH
Yul Brynner and Queenie Cross have a job to do. They have to confront a bunch of brutal nuisance-makers. They take out their guns, look into each other's eyes, and kiss. Lovers, they are. And, professional killers, who may never ever get to spend intimate moments later. Used to Bollywood masala mixes with "action, emotion, drama and melodrama" -- the classic one-liner used to promote Hindi films through the radio once -- the heart weeps for them. How one wishes the guy was a tailor, and the girl a maidservant, so that they could have married and lived happily ever after. But here, in this Hollywood Western The Magnificent Seven, they have to deal with rugged criminals whom they must kill, failing which they will be dead.
Liar, cut the inanity. Stop fooling readers with your gibberish. You haven't watched The Magnificent Seven. Queenie Cross acted in just one film (Ginger Mick, 1920) that was released five years after Yul Brynner was born. Brynner's partner in crime in the film was Steve McQueen, you fool. That is right. The edit page being sacrosanct, I do not wish to misreport here, although cooking up fiction is pretty much up my street. Brynner and McQueen were the pair who were all set to hunt and, naturally, there was no Queenie. Both were great killers, and greater gay lovers.
God! This fellow cannot stop fabricating, which is natural. He has worked for a company that produced a gossip glossy, after all. I can hear the angered reactions of a few who have watched The Magnificent Seven a thousand times, and intend to double that figure. These are the same people who know their Westerns frame by frame. They are aware that Ang Lee has done a brilliant job in Brokeback Mountain, a love story of two cowboys, but refuse to believe that Westerns have a gay subtext just because some say so.
So, am I regressively anti-gay or plain homophobic? Or, is my perspective a ploy in disguise to attract attention that I badly need? All these questions have a common answer. No. For, a Western is a guy thing. Most fellows who act in it are men. Most viewers who adore it are men too. It is the antithesis of Mills and Boon which very few guys read but which most girls cannot do without at a certain stage in their lives.
How can one describe the atmosphere in the average Western? Mentally retarded. The characters are unidimensional cardboard cut-outs seeking action in life. Why so, only God knows. These characters inhabit a territory in which laws are meant to be broken. Rewards are announced for mindless crimes, and the good criminal (see Westerns to figure out what that means) triumphs over bad criminals. Women pop in and out, but the filmmaker is usually too preoccupied with the tussle between the good bad guy and the bad bad guy to show any serious human relationship.
Where there is a Western, killings are inevitable. How the criminal commits the murder is a major directorial concern. The bad bad guy, for instance, has a gun in his hand. The good bad guy, who seems unarmed, looks troubled. But before the former can lift his gun, he bends down and pulls out a knife from his boots. The knife hurtles towards the enemy, and penetrates his chest. The fellow moves around in great agony, and slowly, slowly, falls down. He is dead. The gun lies next to him. It could have been an old man's walking stick. The good bad guy walks off. Next scene.
Logic. Don't look for it. Sadness. Experience it occasionally when a weak person is brutalised. Thrill. Feel it whenever the hero occupies screen space. You know action will follow. A few lesser mortals will be shot. You are also cushioned by the comforting feeling that none of these blokes have actually died. After the scene had been shot, they must have been walking around with bright red paint on their chests and thighs.
In a ruthless world where men are pitted against men, it is but natural that some men become friendly with men as well. After all, their goal is to either find some hidden treasure or kill somebody. Relationships with women are shown briefly, because indulging in them would dilute the plot of the film. The pace will slacken, sob stories for untimely deaths have to be incorporated, killing the film altogether.
Brokeback Mountain is not your average Western. It is an emotional film with cowboys as heroes and lovers. So, it is a pity that suddenly, a few are using the film to say how Westerns have gay subtexts. Actually, there is a grave problem with political correctness. Some use it as a device for bulls*******.
(The copyright of this article rests with The Maharashtra Herald, Pune)
Yul Brynner and Queenie Cross have a job to do. They have to confront a bunch of brutal nuisance-makers. They take out their guns, look into each other's eyes, and kiss. Lovers, they are. And, professional killers, who may never ever get to spend intimate moments later. Used to Bollywood masala mixes with "action, emotion, drama and melodrama" -- the classic one-liner used to promote Hindi films through the radio once -- the heart weeps for them. How one wishes the guy was a tailor, and the girl a maidservant, so that they could have married and lived happily ever after. But here, in this Hollywood Western The Magnificent Seven, they have to deal with rugged criminals whom they must kill, failing which they will be dead.
Liar, cut the inanity. Stop fooling readers with your gibberish. You haven't watched The Magnificent Seven. Queenie Cross acted in just one film (Ginger Mick, 1920) that was released five years after Yul Brynner was born. Brynner's partner in crime in the film was Steve McQueen, you fool. That is right. The edit page being sacrosanct, I do not wish to misreport here, although cooking up fiction is pretty much up my street. Brynner and McQueen were the pair who were all set to hunt and, naturally, there was no Queenie. Both were great killers, and greater gay lovers.
God! This fellow cannot stop fabricating, which is natural. He has worked for a company that produced a gossip glossy, after all. I can hear the angered reactions of a few who have watched The Magnificent Seven a thousand times, and intend to double that figure. These are the same people who know their Westerns frame by frame. They are aware that Ang Lee has done a brilliant job in Brokeback Mountain, a love story of two cowboys, but refuse to believe that Westerns have a gay subtext just because some say so.
So, am I regressively anti-gay or plain homophobic? Or, is my perspective a ploy in disguise to attract attention that I badly need? All these questions have a common answer. No. For, a Western is a guy thing. Most fellows who act in it are men. Most viewers who adore it are men too. It is the antithesis of Mills and Boon which very few guys read but which most girls cannot do without at a certain stage in their lives.
How can one describe the atmosphere in the average Western? Mentally retarded. The characters are unidimensional cardboard cut-outs seeking action in life. Why so, only God knows. These characters inhabit a territory in which laws are meant to be broken. Rewards are announced for mindless crimes, and the good criminal (see Westerns to figure out what that means) triumphs over bad criminals. Women pop in and out, but the filmmaker is usually too preoccupied with the tussle between the good bad guy and the bad bad guy to show any serious human relationship.
Where there is a Western, killings are inevitable. How the criminal commits the murder is a major directorial concern. The bad bad guy, for instance, has a gun in his hand. The good bad guy, who seems unarmed, looks troubled. But before the former can lift his gun, he bends down and pulls out a knife from his boots. The knife hurtles towards the enemy, and penetrates his chest. The fellow moves around in great agony, and slowly, slowly, falls down. He is dead. The gun lies next to him. It could have been an old man's walking stick. The good bad guy walks off. Next scene.
Logic. Don't look for it. Sadness. Experience it occasionally when a weak person is brutalised. Thrill. Feel it whenever the hero occupies screen space. You know action will follow. A few lesser mortals will be shot. You are also cushioned by the comforting feeling that none of these blokes have actually died. After the scene had been shot, they must have been walking around with bright red paint on their chests and thighs.
In a ruthless world where men are pitted against men, it is but natural that some men become friendly with men as well. After all, their goal is to either find some hidden treasure or kill somebody. Relationships with women are shown briefly, because indulging in them would dilute the plot of the film. The pace will slacken, sob stories for untimely deaths have to be incorporated, killing the film altogether.
Brokeback Mountain is not your average Western. It is an emotional film with cowboys as heroes and lovers. So, it is a pity that suddenly, a few are using the film to say how Westerns have gay subtexts. Actually, there is a grave problem with political correctness. Some use it as a device for bulls*******.
(The copyright of this article rests with The Maharashtra Herald, Pune)
Friday, January 20, 2006
WORKING IN A RED-LIGHT AREA
Have you ever worked in a red-light area? Should you do so, the experiences you might go through can be hilarious...mostly.
Late night. One day. I board an auto-rickshaw. Have just finished my work. The rickshaw guy looks at me, and tells me with a straight face in broken English,"Saab, do you want an item?" (Item is a ribald way of referring to a sex worker). I tell him I work in the red-light area. Am a scribe. He replies,"I do two jobs. In the morning, I drive auto like anybody else. In the night, I do delivery. I thought you wanted item also." I say I do not, leave the rickshaw, and walk off.
Buddhahood, Chapter 1 over.
"Saab, you have come to this area at the right time,"one rick guy tells me another day. "Right time?" Am confused. Have to come daily for work. "Yes, right now it is the government's budget season. So, items are giving discounts." It is ten in the night. How can I convince him I am a journalist? I keep shut. He says nothing too. I reach home.
Buddhahood, Chapter 2 ends.
In front of my house. Another day. A third rickshaw guy asks me,"Do you get girls here also?" "How the hell do I know?" I shoot back. "I thought you had gone to a red-light area, so you would know."
I stare at him, and leave the place.
Buddhahood, Chapter 3 complete.
A festival. I am walking on the crowded streets of the area to write an article on the atmosphere, the celebration to be precise. Families are enjoying every moment of the celebration but, at a distance, I see some plastered faces. A bunch of girls have put on what seems like cheap talcum powder on their faces to look attractive. The red lipstick they have applied seems to accentuate the pain on their faces. They are looking for work when people are enjoying.
Is this life?
Budhwar Peth Buddhahood. Last chapter ends.
Late night. One day. I board an auto-rickshaw. Have just finished my work. The rickshaw guy looks at me, and tells me with a straight face in broken English,"Saab, do you want an item?" (Item is a ribald way of referring to a sex worker). I tell him I work in the red-light area. Am a scribe. He replies,"I do two jobs. In the morning, I drive auto like anybody else. In the night, I do delivery. I thought you wanted item also." I say I do not, leave the rickshaw, and walk off.
Buddhahood, Chapter 1 over.
"Saab, you have come to this area at the right time,"one rick guy tells me another day. "Right time?" Am confused. Have to come daily for work. "Yes, right now it is the government's budget season. So, items are giving discounts." It is ten in the night. How can I convince him I am a journalist? I keep shut. He says nothing too. I reach home.
Buddhahood, Chapter 2 ends.
In front of my house. Another day. A third rickshaw guy asks me,"Do you get girls here also?" "How the hell do I know?" I shoot back. "I thought you had gone to a red-light area, so you would know."
I stare at him, and leave the place.
Buddhahood, Chapter 3 complete.
A festival. I am walking on the crowded streets of the area to write an article on the atmosphere, the celebration to be precise. Families are enjoying every moment of the celebration but, at a distance, I see some plastered faces. A bunch of girls have put on what seems like cheap talcum powder on their faces to look attractive. The red lipstick they have applied seems to accentuate the pain on their faces. They are looking for work when people are enjoying.
Is this life?
Budhwar Peth Buddhahood. Last chapter ends.
Sunday, January 15, 2006
LET'S NOT HYPE YOUNG TALENT
BY BISWADEEP GHOSH
Any tennis lover would have seen it coming. A miracle that transferred the skills from one player to the other had to occur while the two were locking horns on the court. But if not, Sania Mirza would have been defeated by Venus Williams anyway. There was no miracle, and Sania was outclassed.
Those who follow the game closely could sense another defeat for Sania, and this time at the hands of the Czech Republic youngster Nicole Vaidisova. Vaidisova is slightly younger than Sania, and she is one of the most talented youngsters in the circuit. Sania played reasonably well but, at the end of the day, the bottomline was a victory in straight sets for the young Czech girl.
Does this mean that we should abandon all our expectations from Sania, whose success has metamorphosed the face of Indian women's tennis? It does not, but what it does indicate is that we need to give little less attention to this girl as long as she is not doing something really remarkable. Declaring her the sportsperson of the year, showering countless accolades for being world number 34, publishing her pictures virtually every day, making sure that she gets more endorsements than bigger performers just because she is pretty and young: these are not good for Sania.
I had made a passing reference about this concern in a column of mine, but let me explain why I think so. Just how old is Sania? Born in November 15, 1986, means she is less than 20. At her age, many women tennis players had scaled the sort of heights Sania is yet to. When 19, a prodigy like Tracy Austin had defeated Martina Navratilova to win the US Open. So, somewhere, and just because Sania is the first Indian woman to make a mark, we have been guilty of hyping her.
Also, since she is just a 19-year-old kid, it is important to think how she might be feeling while encountering such adulation. Nobody should fault her if she spends some time indulging in the paneygyrical odes that are being composed on her. In this situation, if she says that she will play the game the way she does, it could be because she is guilty of ignoring her flaws because of how the nation perceives her.
But the fact is: Sania's game is promising, but she has some serious weaknesses which she needs to overcome to become a top ten player in women's tennis. If she continues to play in her present style, which is flamboyant but error-ridden, she might beat an Elena Dementieva when the latter is off-colour on the court. But if she herself experiences a bad day, she might lose to someone ranked 100 seeds below her because the latter is less flashy but more consistent.
Hyping somebody ahead of time is a typically Indian characteristic. When Baichung Bhutia came to the limelight, he was talked about as if he was India's Maradona, and obviously because our football standards are pitiably low. But, today, we all know that Baichung is the best player only in the context of a bad Indian football team. In a place like say, England, he will find it very difficult to even find a place in a decent club squad.
When music composer A R Rahman made his first impact with Roja, he was hailed as the great saviour of Hindi film music. But, a few films later, the very people who had praised him to the skies started saying that he was repetitive. When Yuvraj Singh played a couple of special knocks after his entry in the Indian cricket squad, critics went on and on about good he was. But, after a few bad innings and his subsequent exit from the team, the same guys launched scatching attacks on his easy-go-lucky approach and inability to play spin bowling at the outset of his innings.
Here, the idea is not to say that we should not praise youngsters when they make a mark like Sania has. But it is equally important to ensure that their flaws are spoken about as well because, as talents, they all have weak areas that need constant attention and polishing. We must stop viewing such youngsters as phenomena and talk about them as people with tremendous potential who have the ability to improve as well.
Also, one major need is that we must make sure that they are not compelled to be under the spotlight all the time. For, they can work on their craft only if they are left on their own. Personally, I would hate to see the day when the world might speak of Sania as another Anna Kournikova. But if that happens, who will responsible for her decline? Not Sania alone, that's for sure.
(The copyright of this column rests with The Maharashtra Herald, Pune)
Any tennis lover would have seen it coming. A miracle that transferred the skills from one player to the other had to occur while the two were locking horns on the court. But if not, Sania Mirza would have been defeated by Venus Williams anyway. There was no miracle, and Sania was outclassed.
Those who follow the game closely could sense another defeat for Sania, and this time at the hands of the Czech Republic youngster Nicole Vaidisova. Vaidisova is slightly younger than Sania, and she is one of the most talented youngsters in the circuit. Sania played reasonably well but, at the end of the day, the bottomline was a victory in straight sets for the young Czech girl.
Does this mean that we should abandon all our expectations from Sania, whose success has metamorphosed the face of Indian women's tennis? It does not, but what it does indicate is that we need to give little less attention to this girl as long as she is not doing something really remarkable. Declaring her the sportsperson of the year, showering countless accolades for being world number 34, publishing her pictures virtually every day, making sure that she gets more endorsements than bigger performers just because she is pretty and young: these are not good for Sania.
I had made a passing reference about this concern in a column of mine, but let me explain why I think so. Just how old is Sania? Born in November 15, 1986, means she is less than 20. At her age, many women tennis players had scaled the sort of heights Sania is yet to. When 19, a prodigy like Tracy Austin had defeated Martina Navratilova to win the US Open. So, somewhere, and just because Sania is the first Indian woman to make a mark, we have been guilty of hyping her.
Also, since she is just a 19-year-old kid, it is important to think how she might be feeling while encountering such adulation. Nobody should fault her if she spends some time indulging in the paneygyrical odes that are being composed on her. In this situation, if she says that she will play the game the way she does, it could be because she is guilty of ignoring her flaws because of how the nation perceives her.
But the fact is: Sania's game is promising, but she has some serious weaknesses which she needs to overcome to become a top ten player in women's tennis. If she continues to play in her present style, which is flamboyant but error-ridden, she might beat an Elena Dementieva when the latter is off-colour on the court. But if she herself experiences a bad day, she might lose to someone ranked 100 seeds below her because the latter is less flashy but more consistent.
Hyping somebody ahead of time is a typically Indian characteristic. When Baichung Bhutia came to the limelight, he was talked about as if he was India's Maradona, and obviously because our football standards are pitiably low. But, today, we all know that Baichung is the best player only in the context of a bad Indian football team. In a place like say, England, he will find it very difficult to even find a place in a decent club squad.
When music composer A R Rahman made his first impact with Roja, he was hailed as the great saviour of Hindi film music. But, a few films later, the very people who had praised him to the skies started saying that he was repetitive. When Yuvraj Singh played a couple of special knocks after his entry in the Indian cricket squad, critics went on and on about good he was. But, after a few bad innings and his subsequent exit from the team, the same guys launched scatching attacks on his easy-go-lucky approach and inability to play spin bowling at the outset of his innings.
Here, the idea is not to say that we should not praise youngsters when they make a mark like Sania has. But it is equally important to ensure that their flaws are spoken about as well because, as talents, they all have weak areas that need constant attention and polishing. We must stop viewing such youngsters as phenomena and talk about them as people with tremendous potential who have the ability to improve as well.
Also, one major need is that we must make sure that they are not compelled to be under the spotlight all the time. For, they can work on their craft only if they are left on their own. Personally, I would hate to see the day when the world might speak of Sania as another Anna Kournikova. But if that happens, who will responsible for her decline? Not Sania alone, that's for sure.
(The copyright of this column rests with The Maharashtra Herald, Pune)
Sunday, December 25, 2005
ANOTHER NEW YEAR, SO?
BY BISWADEEP GHOSH
What's new about the new year? Except the calendar, that is? Why the hell do we meet up, party hard, come back home fatigued late in the night and go to work late the following day, faking illness that isn't real?
You could call it cynicism. But this year in particular, I am feeling absolutely miserable while knowing that I might have to meet up with my friends, and not-so-friendly acquaintances lest I am called anti-or-un-social depending on who is using the phrase to explain my disappearance.
Is disillusionment a part of mental growth? Am I turning into Upamanyu Chatterjee's Agastya Sen because of what I have seen, experienced or simply heard? Why am I talking sainthood when I should be living it up because, as they say, we have just one life?
Am thinking of the rains that mauled Mumbai, leading to a phase of transient Communism in the city. Everybody was struggling. Everybody was thinking: who next? We? Am thinking of Katrina, of tsunami, of those millions of families that got devastated. Many, for eternity.
Saw a Santa Claus yesterday. Not Santa himself, but a Santa, smiling away on the streets, a portrait of optimism. What was going on in his mind while he grinned from ear to ear at the passers by? The fellow was thinking of the cheque he would get from his employers in a day or two.
Thousands of people will be out on the streets soon. Balloons, cakes, cards will invade lots of houses. Free e-cards will find their way into the mailboxes. Gifts, and return gifts, will be the flavour of the season.
But I will stay away from any such celebration. Because of some mysterious something, am not feeling up to it. Have lost nobody I know. Haven't had much trouble in life either. Am comfortable with what life has to offer. Am responsible for my decisions, so have no regrets.
But I will stay away. For sure. And while I write this, I guess I know why. Many people wanted to celebrate 1st January, 2006. But they cannot. For, they died this year.
My new year will be a tribute to the memories of people I never knew. That, since they were like you or me. Each working hard, celebrating moments, till nature's omnipotent arms engulfed and hurled them towards death.
If you are a believer in God, you might pause to think what made the Almighty so indignant. If an atheist, you might try to rationalise in diverse ways. Yes, you can explain death whichever way you want to and, if not, just call it a mortal inevitability. But, isn't 2005 a really tragic thought for many who continue to live and think of all that they lost?
I know none of them. But, like the ones who lost their lives, they are also like you or me.
What's new about the new year? Except the calendar, that is? Why the hell do we meet up, party hard, come back home fatigued late in the night and go to work late the following day, faking illness that isn't real?
You could call it cynicism. But this year in particular, I am feeling absolutely miserable while knowing that I might have to meet up with my friends, and not-so-friendly acquaintances lest I am called anti-or-un-social depending on who is using the phrase to explain my disappearance.
Is disillusionment a part of mental growth? Am I turning into Upamanyu Chatterjee's Agastya Sen because of what I have seen, experienced or simply heard? Why am I talking sainthood when I should be living it up because, as they say, we have just one life?
Am thinking of the rains that mauled Mumbai, leading to a phase of transient Communism in the city. Everybody was struggling. Everybody was thinking: who next? We? Am thinking of Katrina, of tsunami, of those millions of families that got devastated. Many, for eternity.
Saw a Santa Claus yesterday. Not Santa himself, but a Santa, smiling away on the streets, a portrait of optimism. What was going on in his mind while he grinned from ear to ear at the passers by? The fellow was thinking of the cheque he would get from his employers in a day or two.
Thousands of people will be out on the streets soon. Balloons, cakes, cards will invade lots of houses. Free e-cards will find their way into the mailboxes. Gifts, and return gifts, will be the flavour of the season.
But I will stay away from any such celebration. Because of some mysterious something, am not feeling up to it. Have lost nobody I know. Haven't had much trouble in life either. Am comfortable with what life has to offer. Am responsible for my decisions, so have no regrets.
But I will stay away. For sure. And while I write this, I guess I know why. Many people wanted to celebrate 1st January, 2006. But they cannot. For, they died this year.
My new year will be a tribute to the memories of people I never knew. That, since they were like you or me. Each working hard, celebrating moments, till nature's omnipotent arms engulfed and hurled them towards death.
If you are a believer in God, you might pause to think what made the Almighty so indignant. If an atheist, you might try to rationalise in diverse ways. Yes, you can explain death whichever way you want to and, if not, just call it a mortal inevitability. But, isn't 2005 a really tragic thought for many who continue to live and think of all that they lost?
I know none of them. But, like the ones who lost their lives, they are also like you or me.
Sunday, November 27, 2005
FINGER-ATIVELY SPEAKING
BY BISWADEEP GHOSH
Has anyone bothered to remember the 'No Kapil, no test' call in Kolkata when Kapil Dev Nikhanj, a Jat from Haryana, was dropped from the Indian team because he had played an irresponsible shot in the previous test? Sunny Gavaskar, the captain, was pelted with oranges while fielding and the crowd was openly hostile towards him when he went out to bat.
I am not defending this moment at all. But all I am trying to say if the crowd in Kolkata can be so passionate when it concerned Kapil, who is as Bengali as Sherlock Holmes is Greek, can there be any reason why they will not cry out Sourav's name and jeer Dravid? That might be unsporting, but that is the way many Kolkatan fans are.
What Chappell should not done is stick a finger out of the bus later. He is the coach after all. But then, Chappell's methods have been ungentlemanly in a gentleman's game earlier as well. How can anyone forget why he made his younger brother Trevor bowl underarm in an act of 'experimentation' I suppose?
The media has been ridiculously biased when it came to reporting against things that have gone wrong even otherwise. Sourav has been the media's scapegoat for a while. Imagine what would have happened if we had lost our previous encounter against the Proteas, and Sourav had kept the best bowler RP Singh out of the attack after the latter had conceded just 18 runs in his seven overs? Abuses would have been hurled by one and all. But in this case, no one made a hue and cry about it.
The most comical of them all was the decision to send Irfan Pathan to bat as an opener. Had we been playing against Bangladesh, one would have understood why that had been done. But against the Proteas? That is out and out idiotic. As I say so, just think what would have happened if Ganguly had sent Pathan as the opener! I am not even saying it.
In an era of experimentation, and under an Australian coach-cum-non-playing captain who sticks a finger out of the bus that the board defends, what should we expect now? As I round this off, I can see Rahul Dravid bowling underarm and Chappell sticking a finger out from the dressing room when a Kallis or a Pollock spanks the cherry for a six!
Has anyone bothered to remember the 'No Kapil, no test' call in Kolkata when Kapil Dev Nikhanj, a Jat from Haryana, was dropped from the Indian team because he had played an irresponsible shot in the previous test? Sunny Gavaskar, the captain, was pelted with oranges while fielding and the crowd was openly hostile towards him when he went out to bat.
I am not defending this moment at all. But all I am trying to say if the crowd in Kolkata can be so passionate when it concerned Kapil, who is as Bengali as Sherlock Holmes is Greek, can there be any reason why they will not cry out Sourav's name and jeer Dravid? That might be unsporting, but that is the way many Kolkatan fans are.
What Chappell should not done is stick a finger out of the bus later. He is the coach after all. But then, Chappell's methods have been ungentlemanly in a gentleman's game earlier as well. How can anyone forget why he made his younger brother Trevor bowl underarm in an act of 'experimentation' I suppose?
The media has been ridiculously biased when it came to reporting against things that have gone wrong even otherwise. Sourav has been the media's scapegoat for a while. Imagine what would have happened if we had lost our previous encounter against the Proteas, and Sourav had kept the best bowler RP Singh out of the attack after the latter had conceded just 18 runs in his seven overs? Abuses would have been hurled by one and all. But in this case, no one made a hue and cry about it.
The most comical of them all was the decision to send Irfan Pathan to bat as an opener. Had we been playing against Bangladesh, one would have understood why that had been done. But against the Proteas? That is out and out idiotic. As I say so, just think what would have happened if Ganguly had sent Pathan as the opener! I am not even saying it.
In an era of experimentation, and under an Australian coach-cum-non-playing captain who sticks a finger out of the bus that the board defends, what should we expect now? As I round this off, I can see Rahul Dravid bowling underarm and Chappell sticking a finger out from the dressing room when a Kallis or a Pollock spanks the cherry for a six!
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
CONVERSATION WITH A CRICKET JOURNO
BY BISWADEEP GHOSH
The Rahul Dravid-Greg Chappell duo are winning matches for India, a senior cricket journo told me just after Ganguly made a comeback to the team. Needless to say, he was hassled. So, what are his allegations against Sourav?
He: He has not been performing with the bat.
I: Everybody goes through a low. Ganguly was dropped because he did not perform. Now he has given enough evidence that he wants to make a comeback. So, big deal!
He: Ganguly has turned into a conniving politician of late.
I: Evidence?
He: I know the inside story.
I: What is the inside story? If you journos know it, you should spill the beans right? That is what you are paid for.
Briefly, evidence!
He: The majority who are talking about Ganguly are Bengalis. Shame on you.
I: Big deal! Have you forgotten the days when Bombay used to decide the choice of players in the Indian cricket team? Didn't one person from the Bombay lobby back another? He is an icon in Bengal. So, Bengalis would worship him just as nobody from Bombay wants to believe that Sachin is not at his best any longer.
He: He has been a bad influence on the team because of his insecurities.
I: He created the team you are talking about. So, evidence!
He: I cannot tell you for you to blog it.
I: I won't tell who you are but certainly blog it. Why? Like every cricket lover, I want to how much shit is flying around if it is.
In other words, I want evidence against the guy, written by journos whose job is to break stories and not sit over them.
The Rahul Dravid-Greg Chappell duo are winning matches for India, a senior cricket journo told me just after Ganguly made a comeback to the team. Needless to say, he was hassled. So, what are his allegations against Sourav?
He: He has not been performing with the bat.
I: Everybody goes through a low. Ganguly was dropped because he did not perform. Now he has given enough evidence that he wants to make a comeback. So, big deal!
He: Ganguly has turned into a conniving politician of late.
I: Evidence?
He: I know the inside story.
I: What is the inside story? If you journos know it, you should spill the beans right? That is what you are paid for.
Briefly, evidence!
He: The majority who are talking about Ganguly are Bengalis. Shame on you.
I: Big deal! Have you forgotten the days when Bombay used to decide the choice of players in the Indian cricket team? Didn't one person from the Bombay lobby back another? He is an icon in Bengal. So, Bengalis would worship him just as nobody from Bombay wants to believe that Sachin is not at his best any longer.
He: He has been a bad influence on the team because of his insecurities.
I: He created the team you are talking about. So, evidence!
He: I cannot tell you for you to blog it.
I: I won't tell who you are but certainly blog it. Why? Like every cricket lover, I want to how much shit is flying around if it is.
In other words, I want evidence against the guy, written by journos whose job is to break stories and not sit over them.
QUESTIONS, HAZAAR QUESTIONS!
BY BISWADEEP GHOSH
Sourav Ganguly is back in the team. The fighter in him is trying hard to make an impact as was evident from his performance with the ball against Maharashtra today. A spell of five wickets for 64 runs, including four top order players, from a player under so much stress cannot be a bad performance by any yardstick of judgement. But then that is the way Sourav is. After being dropped from the team, he, instead of sulking away, just went out and hammered a century against North Zone.
India's most successful captain, Sourav gave Steve Waugh's Australians the treatment they deserved. That, to my mind, is the most glorious chapter of his career as a captain. But the questions that need to be answered are many.
* Ganguly is known to be a 'man with the golden arm', but he is basically a batsman who, at his best, can be ruthlessly destructive. So, how did our selection committee choose him as a batting all-rounder?
* There is little doubt that Chappell is to Dravid what Dalmiya was to Ganguly for a long time. Given the fact that he is in the team for not just his batting but his bowling abilities too, isn't it possible that Ganguly might be asked to roll his arm over when our frontline bowlers are failing? Batting all-rounder: that phrase jars. It is really very mysterious.
* How will Ganguly get along with Chappell? The exchange between the two was the worst in recent cricketing history. Chappell might choose to forget, because he will be acutely aware that Ganguly is back in the team because of serious pressure. But, after the awful e-mail episode, will Chappell 'allow' Ganguly to be his normal self when he is not out on the field? Indian cricket has had a history of wicked coaches, the best example being Sandeep Patil who had sent Ganguly out to bat after Anil Kumble once. Patil was thrown out. But will Chappell suffer a similar consequence if he chooses to be dogmatic?
* It is good to say that Dravid is the good boy of Indian cricket. But 'is' the good boy so good that he will vacate the post of captaincy without trying to hijack it for as long as possible? Despite Ganguly's currently precarious position, a few good knocks from him in a few Indian losses is what that is required to generate public opinion that Ganguly should be back. People will go back to history; the same lot who are commenting against Ganguly's inclusion.
Dravid has waited for a long time. Today, he has found an ally in Chappell who is Ganguly's enemy. Will he take a chance?
Too many questions, which only time can answer. Meanwhile, all Ganguly must do is go out and deliver. He can because he has.
Sourav Ganguly is back in the team. The fighter in him is trying hard to make an impact as was evident from his performance with the ball against Maharashtra today. A spell of five wickets for 64 runs, including four top order players, from a player under so much stress cannot be a bad performance by any yardstick of judgement. But then that is the way Sourav is. After being dropped from the team, he, instead of sulking away, just went out and hammered a century against North Zone.
India's most successful captain, Sourav gave Steve Waugh's Australians the treatment they deserved. That, to my mind, is the most glorious chapter of his career as a captain. But the questions that need to be answered are many.
* Ganguly is known to be a 'man with the golden arm', but he is basically a batsman who, at his best, can be ruthlessly destructive. So, how did our selection committee choose him as a batting all-rounder?
* There is little doubt that Chappell is to Dravid what Dalmiya was to Ganguly for a long time. Given the fact that he is in the team for not just his batting but his bowling abilities too, isn't it possible that Ganguly might be asked to roll his arm over when our frontline bowlers are failing? Batting all-rounder: that phrase jars. It is really very mysterious.
* How will Ganguly get along with Chappell? The exchange between the two was the worst in recent cricketing history. Chappell might choose to forget, because he will be acutely aware that Ganguly is back in the team because of serious pressure. But, after the awful e-mail episode, will Chappell 'allow' Ganguly to be his normal self when he is not out on the field? Indian cricket has had a history of wicked coaches, the best example being Sandeep Patil who had sent Ganguly out to bat after Anil Kumble once. Patil was thrown out. But will Chappell suffer a similar consequence if he chooses to be dogmatic?
* It is good to say that Dravid is the good boy of Indian cricket. But 'is' the good boy so good that he will vacate the post of captaincy without trying to hijack it for as long as possible? Despite Ganguly's currently precarious position, a few good knocks from him in a few Indian losses is what that is required to generate public opinion that Ganguly should be back. People will go back to history; the same lot who are commenting against Ganguly's inclusion.
Dravid has waited for a long time. Today, he has found an ally in Chappell who is Ganguly's enemy. Will he take a chance?
Too many questions, which only time can answer. Meanwhile, all Ganguly must do is go out and deliver. He can because he has.
Thursday, August 18, 2005
STARDUST PAPA KEHTE HAIN!
BY BISWADEEP GHOSH
More than a year ago, a story in Stardust magazine had featured Jessica Hines, a lady who had come down to India and was alleged to be pregnant with Aamir Khan’s child. It made news nationwide. Every newspaper made sure it splashed some bit of the interview in which Jessica did not come out in the open. Instead, what she said came close to suggesting that the baby was a technological miracle, in her words, “a computer-generated hologram.”
Cut to The Hindustan Times, whose Mumbai edition was launched very recently. Day one of the newspaper featured a scoop that revealed excerpts from a conversation between Salman Khan and Aishwarya Rai. This conversation in which Salman allegedly spoke about everything right from his bedtime stories with heroines to his association with the underworld had been buried for four long years. Nobody had spoken of it, including Ash even after she went to town with her statements against Salman after the twosome broke up. But the day the newspaper set its feet in Mumbai, the interview emerged out of nowhere, making HT a serious rival of The TOI overnight.
Now, think of The Rising. Think of Aamir Khan with the Mangal Pandey moustache that he used for both playing Mangal Pandey and selling Titan watches. The Rising may be utter crap – it indeed is – but there is little doubt that curiosity about Aamir is at an all-time high. Because of the hype surrounding the film well before it was released all over the world on August 12, people are ready to devour any thing and every thing about Aamir. Right now, it won’t be wrong to say that Aamir is India’s number one star, which is also because of the fact that he hasn’t had a release for four long years. Film lovers want to see the guy because he has successfully tested their patience by remaining in hibernation for far too long.
So, at a time when Aamir mania has gripped the nation, comes another Stardust story saying that the son of Jessica – the hologram in her belly once – is two years old now. Jessica who had kept mum about the dad’s identity earlier, suggesting that a Pentium 2.6 could be the culprit, now says that Aamir who is alleged to be the dad of the child named Jaan actually asked to abort the child.
A couple of questions. Why did Jessica talk about Aamir’s fatherhood so late in the day when she had attributed the child’s origin to a computer once? Why did we get to know that a love child named Jaan existed exactly when The Rising was released? These questions cannot be answered very easily but, somehow, Aamir for once reminds of Salman Khan. And, Stardust seems rather similar to The Hindustan Times of the day it was launched in Mumbai.
More than a year ago, a story in Stardust magazine had featured Jessica Hines, a lady who had come down to India and was alleged to be pregnant with Aamir Khan’s child. It made news nationwide. Every newspaper made sure it splashed some bit of the interview in which Jessica did not come out in the open. Instead, what she said came close to suggesting that the baby was a technological miracle, in her words, “a computer-generated hologram.”
Cut to The Hindustan Times, whose Mumbai edition was launched very recently. Day one of the newspaper featured a scoop that revealed excerpts from a conversation between Salman Khan and Aishwarya Rai. This conversation in which Salman allegedly spoke about everything right from his bedtime stories with heroines to his association with the underworld had been buried for four long years. Nobody had spoken of it, including Ash even after she went to town with her statements against Salman after the twosome broke up. But the day the newspaper set its feet in Mumbai, the interview emerged out of nowhere, making HT a serious rival of The TOI overnight.
Now, think of The Rising. Think of Aamir Khan with the Mangal Pandey moustache that he used for both playing Mangal Pandey and selling Titan watches. The Rising may be utter crap – it indeed is – but there is little doubt that curiosity about Aamir is at an all-time high. Because of the hype surrounding the film well before it was released all over the world on August 12, people are ready to devour any thing and every thing about Aamir. Right now, it won’t be wrong to say that Aamir is India’s number one star, which is also because of the fact that he hasn’t had a release for four long years. Film lovers want to see the guy because he has successfully tested their patience by remaining in hibernation for far too long.
So, at a time when Aamir mania has gripped the nation, comes another Stardust story saying that the son of Jessica – the hologram in her belly once – is two years old now. Jessica who had kept mum about the dad’s identity earlier, suggesting that a Pentium 2.6 could be the culprit, now says that Aamir who is alleged to be the dad of the child named Jaan actually asked to abort the child.
A couple of questions. Why did Jessica talk about Aamir’s fatherhood so late in the day when she had attributed the child’s origin to a computer once? Why did we get to know that a love child named Jaan existed exactly when The Rising was released? These questions cannot be answered very easily but, somehow, Aamir for once reminds of Salman Khan. And, Stardust seems rather similar to The Hindustan Times of the day it was launched in Mumbai.
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
WAR OF THE TITANS
BY ASHRAF ENGINEER
I’ve been watching the newspaper war in Mumbai for some time now. The market obviously had the space for more players, and The Times of India must have known for a while that sooner rather than later the ways of virtual monopoly would end.
But what’s exciting is to watch is what the new players do with the media space they’ve occupied.
TOI has responded by upping quality, adding pages, many of them for city coverage, and marketing itself more aggressively. Hindustan Times chose the silent, strong approach by not making a huge hoopla about is launch, letting its Salman Khan ‘scoop’ do the talking. It’s superior design kicked in to attract the eyeballs and it generally seems to have made a favourable impression as a credible rival to the Old Lady of Boribunder.
But it was DNA which I had been waiting for. A virtual star cast of an editorial team had been put together and crores had been spent on an advertising campaign that soon turned controversial. But I did feel slightly disappointed with the initial editions. Given the marketing, financial and editorial muscle of the Dainik Bhaskar and Zee groups, the product was as good or bad as the rest in the market. You didn’t need some of the biggest guns in the industry to come out with a paper that merely match up. I expected more.
Maybe they initially confused more pages with a bigger bang for the subscriber’s buck. I don’t know whether that’s a completely correct assumption. Yes, many do feel that they’re getting value for what they’ve paid. But as a reader of this particular paper you expected greater editorial quality and innovations in content. DNA disappointed not because it was bad, but because it was only as good as everyone else.
Having said all this, I must confess DNA is improving by the day and where it will eventually settle on the subscription charts will be interesting to watch.
The churn in the Mumbai print industry, I believe, is very good. The cut-throat competition will not only keep standards high for the consumer, but will also allow journalists options which never existed before. Salaries are just one measure of the rising stock of the journalist. Media companies will now have to go that extra mile to take care of them to ensure that much-needed talent is not eroded.
I was asked whether I thought all these players will survive in the long run. My own take is yes, though I think we will see, eventually, a dip in the circulation numbers. Right now there is great curiosity about the new products and many households have signed up for all the three big ones. In the long run, consumers will choose merely one or two of the four or five players in the market. That will lead to a plateauing of the numbers and a stabilisation of the market.
I wonder whether the smaller players like Indian Express and Mid Day will land up getting burned in the crossfire.
Bee Gee's note: Best known for reading books on the office staircase, my colleague Ashraf Engineer is optimistic about DNA. Even I think similarly, since the paper has changed quite a bit since the day it was launched. Sitting in Pune, one can see that the changes are for the better.
I’ve been watching the newspaper war in Mumbai for some time now. The market obviously had the space for more players, and The Times of India must have known for a while that sooner rather than later the ways of virtual monopoly would end.
But what’s exciting is to watch is what the new players do with the media space they’ve occupied.
TOI has responded by upping quality, adding pages, many of them for city coverage, and marketing itself more aggressively. Hindustan Times chose the silent, strong approach by not making a huge hoopla about is launch, letting its Salman Khan ‘scoop’ do the talking. It’s superior design kicked in to attract the eyeballs and it generally seems to have made a favourable impression as a credible rival to the Old Lady of Boribunder.
But it was DNA which I had been waiting for. A virtual star cast of an editorial team had been put together and crores had been spent on an advertising campaign that soon turned controversial. But I did feel slightly disappointed with the initial editions. Given the marketing, financial and editorial muscle of the Dainik Bhaskar and Zee groups, the product was as good or bad as the rest in the market. You didn’t need some of the biggest guns in the industry to come out with a paper that merely match up. I expected more.
Maybe they initially confused more pages with a bigger bang for the subscriber’s buck. I don’t know whether that’s a completely correct assumption. Yes, many do feel that they’re getting value for what they’ve paid. But as a reader of this particular paper you expected greater editorial quality and innovations in content. DNA disappointed not because it was bad, but because it was only as good as everyone else.
Having said all this, I must confess DNA is improving by the day and where it will eventually settle on the subscription charts will be interesting to watch.
The churn in the Mumbai print industry, I believe, is very good. The cut-throat competition will not only keep standards high for the consumer, but will also allow journalists options which never existed before. Salaries are just one measure of the rising stock of the journalist. Media companies will now have to go that extra mile to take care of them to ensure that much-needed talent is not eroded.
I was asked whether I thought all these players will survive in the long run. My own take is yes, though I think we will see, eventually, a dip in the circulation numbers. Right now there is great curiosity about the new products and many households have signed up for all the three big ones. In the long run, consumers will choose merely one or two of the four or five players in the market. That will lead to a plateauing of the numbers and a stabilisation of the market.
I wonder whether the smaller players like Indian Express and Mid Day will land up getting burned in the crossfire.
Bee Gee's note: Best known for reading books on the office staircase, my colleague Ashraf Engineer is optimistic about DNA. Even I think similarly, since the paper has changed quite a bit since the day it was launched. Sitting in Pune, one can see that the changes are for the better.
Friday, August 12, 2005
RETURN OF SOURAV
BY BISWADEEP GHOSH
Most in the media have problems with Sourav Ganguly. The very attitude that enabled him to build a cohesive unit out of a bunch of individuals – aggression should be his middle name, not Chandidas – has made him the media’s favourite whipping boy. Arrogant, presumptuous, egoistic: these are the adjectives senior cricket journalists use while talking about Sourav in personal conversations. But when they write for the print media, they seek refuge in what is politically correct, which is say stuff like he cannot play the short delivery or that he has been woefully out of form of late.
But now, Ganguly is back to where he belonged, which is as the captain of the squad he had led so successfully. I am sure his critics must be raving and ranting by now, snubbed as they might have been by a guy who knows how to steer the ship of a team but doesn’t give a damn to unfriendly press. Ganguly has built a team that the selectors know and value. The guy, in other words, commands the respect of his team which no other Indian player does: or can.
Besides, when Dravid got an opportunity to make a mark in Sri Lanka in Ganguly’s absence, he came across as a silent, aloof sort who was barely visible on the field. The Yuvrajs and Sehwags and Harbhajans whom Ganguly had identified and backed so well ‘need’ a flamboyant skipper to start with. This, they are used to when Ganguly is around. They don’t mind getting rubbished by the guy even if he himself might not have played well because of an innate confidence stemming from their awareness that Ganguly knows how gifted they are, and that he will support them when the chips are down. History explains why they think so.
Now that he is back as the captain, we will see a bunch of individuals play as Team India again. As for the argument that John Wright had said that he would continue to coach the Indian team if Ganguly stepped down, the fact remains that it was the latter who led the team on the field, not Wright. As for the theory that he cannot play the short ball, while it is true that he is vulnerable to such deliveries like most Indians, he has been able to score 10,000 plus runs in one-dayers at a slightly slower pace than Sachin Tendulkar. As for the affirmation that Dravid has a stable head on his shoulders but Ganguly is moody and tempestuous and god-knows-what-else, nobody needs to take it seriously as long as Ganguly continues to deliver. Remember he is the most successful captain India has ever had?
Most in the media have problems with Sourav Ganguly. The very attitude that enabled him to build a cohesive unit out of a bunch of individuals – aggression should be his middle name, not Chandidas – has made him the media’s favourite whipping boy. Arrogant, presumptuous, egoistic: these are the adjectives senior cricket journalists use while talking about Sourav in personal conversations. But when they write for the print media, they seek refuge in what is politically correct, which is say stuff like he cannot play the short delivery or that he has been woefully out of form of late.
But now, Ganguly is back to where he belonged, which is as the captain of the squad he had led so successfully. I am sure his critics must be raving and ranting by now, snubbed as they might have been by a guy who knows how to steer the ship of a team but doesn’t give a damn to unfriendly press. Ganguly has built a team that the selectors know and value. The guy, in other words, commands the respect of his team which no other Indian player does: or can.
Besides, when Dravid got an opportunity to make a mark in Sri Lanka in Ganguly’s absence, he came across as a silent, aloof sort who was barely visible on the field. The Yuvrajs and Sehwags and Harbhajans whom Ganguly had identified and backed so well ‘need’ a flamboyant skipper to start with. This, they are used to when Ganguly is around. They don’t mind getting rubbished by the guy even if he himself might not have played well because of an innate confidence stemming from their awareness that Ganguly knows how gifted they are, and that he will support them when the chips are down. History explains why they think so.
Now that he is back as the captain, we will see a bunch of individuals play as Team India again. As for the argument that John Wright had said that he would continue to coach the Indian team if Ganguly stepped down, the fact remains that it was the latter who led the team on the field, not Wright. As for the theory that he cannot play the short ball, while it is true that he is vulnerable to such deliveries like most Indians, he has been able to score 10,000 plus runs in one-dayers at a slightly slower pace than Sachin Tendulkar. As for the affirmation that Dravid has a stable head on his shoulders but Ganguly is moody and tempestuous and god-knows-what-else, nobody needs to take it seriously as long as Ganguly continues to deliver. Remember he is the most successful captain India has ever had?
Thursday, August 11, 2005
HISTORY IS A COMIC STRIP!
BY BISWADEEP GHOSH
I admire Rudrangshu Mukherjee's scholarship of history, and firmly believe what he has to say about the existence of Mangal Pandey and his actual significance in the the first Indian war of Independence in his book 'Mangal Pandey: Brave Martyr or the Accidental Hero?': "The reason for the attention given to Mangal Pandey lies not in the significance of his own actions but in the actions of the sepoys of north India who took to arms in the summer of 1857. Historians have assumed a link between Mangal Pandey and the uprising of 1857 and thus a legend has been created around his name."
To prove his point, Mukherjee talks of the mutiny in Barrackpore some 33 years ago in which 200 Indian soldiers died. But that was not written about till 2003 and here, I might add, because there wasn’t a single protagonist who started it all, and also since the reason possibly wasn’t as dramatic as greased cartridge with fat of animals that both Hindus and Muslims weren’t supposed to touch. Desecration that would have been, and it indeed was, leading to an uprising triggered off by a man (Mangal)about whose act and life hardly anything is known.
But today, all we can hear is ‘Mangala, Mangala, Mangala, Mangala….” All we can see is a short and well-built guy striding across the screen in a moment that glorifies his death as sacrifice which it was. We have been told about Heera, a sex worker Mangal is supposed to have been in love with. We have heard of Jwala, a woman Mangal’s friend who is a British officer falls in love with.
All of this, and so much more, has happened because of Ketan Mehta’s 'The Rising', the most hyped film in the history of Indian cinema. Now, we know that Mehta’s material is the life story of Mangal although what we do not know is where the story came from. I mean, the film could have been called anything right from Jangal to Dangal Pandey since reality is not the basis anyway, so why Mangal? Simply because Mangal is box-office material, misled as we have been since 1857 that a single sepoy decided the course in which the nation thought and acted.
There is some MTV style choreography in the film too, but never mind! Creative license means anything right from fabricating intelligently and distorting stupidly. Mostly, it is the latter. The film’s hero Aamir has been selling watches with the Mangal look for a while, but so what? If a modern-day Mangal had been able to defeat his rulers in 2005, so many corporates would have requested him to be their brand ambassador isn't it? The life of Mangal has been concocted with the protagonist’s name being the only real thing about it, but should that matter? Not at all, because some will go to see the film without knowing that the story has been cooked up. A few abroad will see it because they will view it as a grand Bollywood musical.
Many will watch it because they are Aamir Khan fans, and very few will give a damn to the fact that fooling around with characters from history and creating their lives when facts do not exist is a very bad thing to do. After all, Mehta and company have tried to make the most of the man’s name. That being the case, shouldn’t they have looked for facts if at all they existed, or gone ahead and worked with material and people about whom enough is known, giving some sort of scope for understanding the situations and interpreting them accordingly?
'The Rising', in short, is a lie. But there is little reason why Ketan Mehta and Aamir Khan will feel sorry about it if this fictionalised story of a martyr with songs and dances doesn’t capsise at the box-office.
I admire Rudrangshu Mukherjee's scholarship of history, and firmly believe what he has to say about the existence of Mangal Pandey and his actual significance in the the first Indian war of Independence in his book 'Mangal Pandey: Brave Martyr or the Accidental Hero?': "The reason for the attention given to Mangal Pandey lies not in the significance of his own actions but in the actions of the sepoys of north India who took to arms in the summer of 1857. Historians have assumed a link between Mangal Pandey and the uprising of 1857 and thus a legend has been created around his name."
To prove his point, Mukherjee talks of the mutiny in Barrackpore some 33 years ago in which 200 Indian soldiers died. But that was not written about till 2003 and here, I might add, because there wasn’t a single protagonist who started it all, and also since the reason possibly wasn’t as dramatic as greased cartridge with fat of animals that both Hindus and Muslims weren’t supposed to touch. Desecration that would have been, and it indeed was, leading to an uprising triggered off by a man (Mangal)about whose act and life hardly anything is known.
But today, all we can hear is ‘Mangala, Mangala, Mangala, Mangala….” All we can see is a short and well-built guy striding across the screen in a moment that glorifies his death as sacrifice which it was. We have been told about Heera, a sex worker Mangal is supposed to have been in love with. We have heard of Jwala, a woman Mangal’s friend who is a British officer falls in love with.
All of this, and so much more, has happened because of Ketan Mehta’s 'The Rising', the most hyped film in the history of Indian cinema. Now, we know that Mehta’s material is the life story of Mangal although what we do not know is where the story came from. I mean, the film could have been called anything right from Jangal to Dangal Pandey since reality is not the basis anyway, so why Mangal? Simply because Mangal is box-office material, misled as we have been since 1857 that a single sepoy decided the course in which the nation thought and acted.
There is some MTV style choreography in the film too, but never mind! Creative license means anything right from fabricating intelligently and distorting stupidly. Mostly, it is the latter. The film’s hero Aamir has been selling watches with the Mangal look for a while, but so what? If a modern-day Mangal had been able to defeat his rulers in 2005, so many corporates would have requested him to be their brand ambassador isn't it? The life of Mangal has been concocted with the protagonist’s name being the only real thing about it, but should that matter? Not at all, because some will go to see the film without knowing that the story has been cooked up. A few abroad will see it because they will view it as a grand Bollywood musical.
Many will watch it because they are Aamir Khan fans, and very few will give a damn to the fact that fooling around with characters from history and creating their lives when facts do not exist is a very bad thing to do. After all, Mehta and company have tried to make the most of the man’s name. That being the case, shouldn’t they have looked for facts if at all they existed, or gone ahead and worked with material and people about whom enough is known, giving some sort of scope for understanding the situations and interpreting them accordingly?
'The Rising', in short, is a lie. But there is little reason why Ketan Mehta and Aamir Khan will feel sorry about it if this fictionalised story of a martyr with songs and dances doesn’t capsise at the box-office.
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
YUCKCETERA!
BY BISWADEEP GHOSH
Why is Kyaa Kool Hai Hum’s sequel being planned already? According to a sexually frustrated acquaintance who went to watch the film, this one isn’t anything less than a Woody Allen flick in which the script could have written by a P G Wodehouse! There is so much humour in the film that the viewers keep on falling off their chairs, I am told by the same guy.
So, did I watch the film? Yes, I did because I must. It is an occupational hazard, you see. Did I like the film? No, I did not. I found the dialogues unacceptably risqué; I found the body language abominably provocative; I felt that the whole film just rubbished all notions of good film-making as had been defined by the one and only David Dhawan in his legendary Number One series which turned Govinda into a darling of the masses even as an Indian writer born and brought up in India made a complete ass of himself by pretending not to know who Govinda was when the actor was at his peak. This writer (rather well-known) went to watch a Govinda film and, strangely enough, reviewed the movie in a revered book reviews journal (till today, don’t know why) in which he said that he mistook Govinda for an extra till his friend pointed out who the actor was! Knowing what nobody else does but now knowing what everyone should defines the average intellectual, you see. I have been saying that since I was a kid. I will say that even when I dance inside my grave because I am certain to hear voices go past me that will enunciate similar thoughts while walking by.
But Kyaa Kool Hai Hum cannot evoke any such need for pretentious indifference. Why? Since its actors are too damn insignificant. But what it does generate – in the minds of sane people at least – is a thought. What has gone wrong with us? At a time when we were all set to applaud ourselves by turning Black into a huge hit, why did we have to make a fool of ourselves by making KKHH a success?
After all, what does the film have? Lovely dialogues that tell us that a psychologist who is an expert in tracking down serial killers has three balls (made of plastic) which he uses to understand a man’s mind? That this doctor has a wife who assures him that she has been taking care of his balls all her life? That one of the heroes asks a girl whether or not she has Viagra and quickly changes it to ‘vagyarah’ that, in Urdu, means what etcetera in English does? That the second hero cuddles a cat while sitting on a bench with his fly left open which is mistaken by the cop for the hero’s act of having sex with the animal? That a burning cigarette slips into the same guy’s trousers, and the fellow jumps frantically while holding his vital parts in public that is again viewed as sexual perversity by the cops?
Sad. Dismal. Dismissible. But then, we went, we applauded and we turned this lump of drivel into a hit. By doing so, what we have ensured is that more shall follow. Kya fool hai hum!
Why is Kyaa Kool Hai Hum’s sequel being planned already? According to a sexually frustrated acquaintance who went to watch the film, this one isn’t anything less than a Woody Allen flick in which the script could have written by a P G Wodehouse! There is so much humour in the film that the viewers keep on falling off their chairs, I am told by the same guy.
So, did I watch the film? Yes, I did because I must. It is an occupational hazard, you see. Did I like the film? No, I did not. I found the dialogues unacceptably risqué; I found the body language abominably provocative; I felt that the whole film just rubbished all notions of good film-making as had been defined by the one and only David Dhawan in his legendary Number One series which turned Govinda into a darling of the masses even as an Indian writer born and brought up in India made a complete ass of himself by pretending not to know who Govinda was when the actor was at his peak. This writer (rather well-known) went to watch a Govinda film and, strangely enough, reviewed the movie in a revered book reviews journal (till today, don’t know why) in which he said that he mistook Govinda for an extra till his friend pointed out who the actor was! Knowing what nobody else does but now knowing what everyone should defines the average intellectual, you see. I have been saying that since I was a kid. I will say that even when I dance inside my grave because I am certain to hear voices go past me that will enunciate similar thoughts while walking by.
But Kyaa Kool Hai Hum cannot evoke any such need for pretentious indifference. Why? Since its actors are too damn insignificant. But what it does generate – in the minds of sane people at least – is a thought. What has gone wrong with us? At a time when we were all set to applaud ourselves by turning Black into a huge hit, why did we have to make a fool of ourselves by making KKHH a success?
After all, what does the film have? Lovely dialogues that tell us that a psychologist who is an expert in tracking down serial killers has three balls (made of plastic) which he uses to understand a man’s mind? That this doctor has a wife who assures him that she has been taking care of his balls all her life? That one of the heroes asks a girl whether or not she has Viagra and quickly changes it to ‘vagyarah’ that, in Urdu, means what etcetera in English does? That the second hero cuddles a cat while sitting on a bench with his fly left open which is mistaken by the cop for the hero’s act of having sex with the animal? That a burning cigarette slips into the same guy’s trousers, and the fellow jumps frantically while holding his vital parts in public that is again viewed as sexual perversity by the cops?
Sad. Dismal. Dismissible. But then, we went, we applauded and we turned this lump of drivel into a hit. By doing so, what we have ensured is that more shall follow. Kya fool hai hum!
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
B***S FOR EYEBALLS!
BY BISWADEEP GHOSH
Salman Rushdie needs a Gabriel Garcia Marquez for an inspiration. But then, he is a great writer. Writers such as yours truly whose claim to shame lies in some insignificant books are inspired by lesser beings naturally. Risking a digression, I had informed many of you that smallbigworld shall restart from June 1. But destiny decided otherwise. The site has taken off today, all due to an impulsive reaction to Mallika Sherawat’s presence. She wasn’t with me – I do not wish to be so lucky – but with the martial arts star Jackie Chan who must have had a ball playing the lust action hero alongside the Haryanvi sherni in his forthcoming film The Myth. (While shooting for it, I am sure all the myths about Indian conservatism would have gone bust!)
Coming to the point, Mallika’s dress sensation in Cannes just drove me nuts. Did she need to wear the top that she was wearing to begin with? Blame it on my prudish sensibility, feel free to rip apart my inability to appreciate the aesthetics of semi-dressedness. But how much did she have to show to the world to tell everyone that India had ‘arrived’ because, if people were to equate her outfit with what Indian women wear in their day-to-day lives, the assumption could very well be that our ladies wear hardly anything at all! If that sounds fatuous which it actually is – one of the advantages of writing in a personal site – if a foreigner were to believe that Mallika’s outfit defined the parameters of glamorous dressing up in India, wouldn’t that be utterly, gutterly shameful?
Look at the other two Indian women in Cannes. Nandita Das isn’t pretty in the conventional sense, but she has carried herself most gracefully all through. Aishwarya Rai is breathtakingly beautiful but, while her badly made outfits received a lot of flak last year, she has more than made up by wearing classy dresses this time. As for Mallika whose pictures will be all over by the time you read this, I feel like writing an email to her right away. Just one sentence, which will go thus: “Dear Mallika, titillation need not be interpreted so literally.”
Salman Rushdie needs a Gabriel Garcia Marquez for an inspiration. But then, he is a great writer. Writers such as yours truly whose claim to shame lies in some insignificant books are inspired by lesser beings naturally. Risking a digression, I had informed many of you that smallbigworld shall restart from June 1. But destiny decided otherwise. The site has taken off today, all due to an impulsive reaction to Mallika Sherawat’s presence. She wasn’t with me – I do not wish to be so lucky – but with the martial arts star Jackie Chan who must have had a ball playing the lust action hero alongside the Haryanvi sherni in his forthcoming film The Myth. (While shooting for it, I am sure all the myths about Indian conservatism would have gone bust!)
Coming to the point, Mallika’s dress sensation in Cannes just drove me nuts. Did she need to wear the top that she was wearing to begin with? Blame it on my prudish sensibility, feel free to rip apart my inability to appreciate the aesthetics of semi-dressedness. But how much did she have to show to the world to tell everyone that India had ‘arrived’ because, if people were to equate her outfit with what Indian women wear in their day-to-day lives, the assumption could very well be that our ladies wear hardly anything at all! If that sounds fatuous which it actually is – one of the advantages of writing in a personal site – if a foreigner were to believe that Mallika’s outfit defined the parameters of glamorous dressing up in India, wouldn’t that be utterly, gutterly shameful?
Look at the other two Indian women in Cannes. Nandita Das isn’t pretty in the conventional sense, but she has carried herself most gracefully all through. Aishwarya Rai is breathtakingly beautiful but, while her badly made outfits received a lot of flak last year, she has more than made up by wearing classy dresses this time. As for Mallika whose pictures will be all over by the time you read this, I feel like writing an email to her right away. Just one sentence, which will go thus: “Dear Mallika, titillation need not be interpreted so literally.”
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