Flood Line

The severe floods in a capital city of a southern state in India recently were the point of discussion. Being away from home it is natural for us to seek out as much information as one can by traversing across different mediums ranging from news channels, online newspapers and social networks. Personally having been in the center of quite some ferocious floods in the commercial capital of the country, I know it can be unnerving, extremely troubling and also a wakeup call personally and for the governance as well. My own personal encounter with deep waters was in Mumbai. I was staying in those days in Chembur. I travelled to Nashik on the weekends to visit my parents and one Sunday I got back by the Kasara local amidst extremely heavy rain, the local delayed by almost 4 hours trundled into Kurla station at 3am. Stepping out I gasped as I saw the waist high water all around glistening in the few lights that seemed to remain lit. It seemed like the sea water had taken over the city. Suffice it to say it can be very unnerving to stand on the steps of a structure surrounded 360deg  by water. Those days with adrenaline running high, it was the dominant fight hormone and not the flight hormone which seemed to take precedence. Today I would probably call it foolish bravado. I walked almost 8 kms to my home in waist high dark waters, trying and trusting the central divider holding the lampposts along the road, as an indicator. With not a soul on the road and passing trucks creating mini Tsunamis and me holding my bag high above my head, it was a crash course in military training. I survived that and also remember  relishing my mother’s home cooked parathas and peanut sauce untouched by the Mumbai waters. Braved and saw many floods after that but not as unnerving as this particular one, capable of giving goosebumps even today.

Floods have turned worse over the years and it has less to do with unnatural rains and more to do with reduction of surface area for water to get absorbed and run away. When we appreciate the neat well laid out cement paths in the thousands of modern housing societies that have sprung up neck to neck in any piece of real estate that appears to be staring emptily at the sky, one could do well to note that it is going to collect water which needs to run off. Just look up at the Sq. kms of clouds spread in height and surface area. With sufficient combination of humidity and gravity they need to come down and cover similar surface area. If it comes down in a hurry it will need to work out its way across the stern and unfriendly cement blocks that are unwilling to accept it. If the clouds are in a hurry to let go there may not be enough time for the water to work its way out of  the new narrow maze created to lead it to the water bodies. So then there is the back water pool that gets created similar to a dam. Instead of a vertical wall what we have done is created a combination of horizontal wall and vertical walls for it to navigate. The sea has its own challenges probably. ‘Look guys hang on, I cannot accommodate the bergs coming downin the Artic taking over my volume and then you come down in a hurry. Let’s flood the land for now ‘

Nothing will change for now except for some serious debates, angry fist shaking at the civic bodies, calling the builders as corrupt leeches, and abusing politicians. All well-deserved undoubtedly. But it is unlikely to change much. The greed is too strong. Why blame only these people? Each one in the world today is bubbling with greed. Not just the politicians. Every one of us working in any field is greedy to fulfil their materialistic needs, be it personal devices or homes. So it is we who finally feed into this frenzy of building which in turn leads to a corrupted morass and nexus of the aspirational and the opportunistic where ethics struggles to find a foothold. We are all equally responsible. So will we stop our own quest? We won’t. Will they stop because of niggly little bothers like floods. They won’t. Everybody is too busy satisfying their wealth lust before they die having accumulated enough for no one in particular! But that is another story.

Social networks are the first to spring to attention for any activity. More than the emotional slant towards an event it is about who is the first to share the morbid news, the first to gather as shocking data as possible with pictures and the first to make comments on the general socio- politico impact of the situation. Everyone has a voice these days. Rather words these days that flows incessantly across tireless bands of the spectrum. If nothing interesting is happening we can even fish out old shocking videos of disasters and circulate them as those representing the latest one in the news. Should shock in short. Sadistic pleasure unknowingly cloaked under pretentious concern abounds.  The organizations of politicians too are under so much pressure that they even start ‘photo shopping’ visits by heads of states to indicate the proximity to the scene of the disaster. Not the fault of the leader but of his PR team for sure.

Then the news channels. When their reporters are not busy trying to find the deepest end of the water to stand in and speak with Asthmatic fits, they also try to annoy poor residents trying to find their own peace and pressurize them to give equally annoying answers to how they are feeling. With a whole city cut off from electricity for their own safety, why would a woman on the street standing in waist high wter, complaining about how the authorities are not doing their job by not providing electricity, will make news is amazing.  Then there are local Charlie’s, hoodlums in their lanes trying to politicize the situation by organizing their own protests and blocking an already bothered population from moving around.

The most curious part of this whole grave situation in a key metro of the country was the lack of relevance for the mainstream media. For starters they seemed to be not sure if probably the city really belonged to the country. For anything beyond a thousand kilometers of the capital is probably beyond their definition of national and newsworthy. A city marooned and turned into an island with 250 deaths may not be exciting enough for them to get the required turn of heads to the TV. So they reluctantly had intermittent reports of the continuing cms of rain that offloaded from the skies. They got excited when a key government reporting channel did the Photoshop. Here was a chance for them to batter the image of the country and in return get the required TRPs.  And once that wore out they returned to their more exciting news of odd and even number vehicle road laws. Wow that must be really exciting.  One thing has happened for sure and for good. The mainstream media had lost their authenticity by biased attacks on the new government and now with the lack of attention to a national disaster have lost whatever little support they had.

The floods must have affected not just the physical property of the people but their psyche as well. It will take some time for them to come to terms that this was not only unusual but very dangerous and that it could happen again. Will this shock be enough for them to demand strong actions to environmentally protect the city? Will other cities sit up and take notice? Will people stop blaming weather systems for their agonies and look at the damage they have themselves caused? Only time will tell. 

Prem Ratan Dhan Paayo par Main tho Takh gayo !

It is just so difficult to be unkind to someone who must be such a sweet person in real life. A person who has made sweet mushy movies like HAHK, MPK, HSSH that we loved unequivocally.   We left our bitterness at home and relished the sweet dish served by this angel on the celluloid, amazed that this goodness if it really existed was heavenly. And then we went back to our not so sweet homes.

So why are we trying to be unkind. Well not exactly unkind. Just struggling to grope for words that can describe vacuous puerile and imbecile plots as vacuous puerile and imbecile. Oops!  It was not supposed to come out like that!

The music that was released before was tantalizing. The teasers seemed to have everything right. The helicopter shots which is being reinvented with different speeds and angles from Mughal E Azam days. The symmetric choreography of thousands of dancers. And no they did not seem morphed.  Sonam Kapoor doing a Madhuri from HAHK resting like a mermaid in a subdued beautiful Blue. Salman looking all gooey eyed explicitly portraying infinite goodness different from the aggressive intimidation he reserves for a reality show. There were huge Havelis encompassing the 70mm landscape. The teasers were alright. And with those delightful songs the formula seemed set. Till of course we land up for the actual show.

Now living in a city where movies do release earlier can be an advantage or a disadvantage depending on whether you want to be the first to enjoy good creative work or be the first to suffer the ignominy of relentless exhibition of lack of imagination on the screen. Sadly the second one defines every moment of this movie and it is indeed tragic coming as it does from the noble stable of Rajshris

You give out a big sigh as a RamLeela song unfolds for the umpteenth time in recent movies. You wonder if the Bajrangi song has been superimposed with Salman and Tikka et al. A commoner (Salman) in Ayodhya going by the name of Dilwale Prem stars in folk tale enactment in a small village. He is enamored by a princess (Sonam) who does charity work that needs collection of funds in 1 kg tin cans. She is engaged to a prince (Guess who again) who meets with a deadly twist even before he is introduced properly. The prince and the commoner have things in common including looks.

The pauper is made to stand in for the missing prince by the loyalist Dewan (Anupam Kher) till they are able to stave off coups by the prince’s evil brother ( Neil Nitin Mukesh)  and safeguard the kingdom.  There are two step sisters too who live in an adjoining mini palace and live their life cutting vegetables for their lunch or animatedly washing clothes with a washing beetle ( yes they still have them) perhaps to depict the economic status of the deprived princesses. The stand in Proxy prince has to correct the relationships,  provide the comic relief and of course woo the princess he so admires.

That is a lot of work and one can imagine that it must have required a lot of mathematical formulas to put all the characters together and intertwine their situations suitably.  True but no one seems to make an effort. So much attention seems to have gone into the ornate sets and elaborate accumulation of dancers making synchronized moves that they did not have space even to keep the injured characters in a proper hospital but rather depend on a an Aladdin type cave where the rocks moves at the entrance and finally the plot went down the hill along with a horse drawn carriage.

IPhone / Notebooks freely dot the landscape where kings and queens still exist, where the subjects seem to have no other work than to dance for their royalty. Mercedes cars  run shoulder to shoulder with horse drawn carriages. Roads on the hills look down steep cliffs and horses decide to fly off them for no reason. Water abounds in an area which seems to be situated in a desert zone judging from the types of palaces that abound.

Thirty minutes into the movie and I had already given up trying to make sense of anything.  There is no clarity on time era. Ludicrous settings make the story extremely implausible. Not sure if it is a period film or a modern day tale.

One imagines that the director is fighting an internal battle with himself. He must have started to make a mushy period film with kings and princesses. The pressure of the box office must have made him include some unusual violence. Salman is barely held back in his act as he seems ready to go into his Dabang act. Half way he indeed finds a plot convenience with the princess and asks her if they can quit being royalty just giving them the right excuse to launch into masti songs acts.

Perhaps unbeknownst to Sooraj Barjatya there are instances of cleavage show creeping in. Which is a shocker for his brand of movies. There are suggestive references in the song and scenes made but quickly withdrawn before they enter into the ribald zone.

To be kind let us say it is a plotless, timeless film with no pretentions of being entertaining.

Salman’s sincerity which helps ludicrous scenes look a bit entertaining, Anupam Kher’s tried and tested act, interestingly Swara Bhaskar’s act which stands out despite the insignificant act length and most importantly excellent music from Himesh are the saving graces of the movie.

Himesh should be complimented for providing roti to his reality show contestants who do a great job in “ Jalte Diya” and “ Prem leela”. Shaan sounds good despite trying to mimic Udit and Kumar Sanu in the nice sounding “Aaj Unse Milne hain”. Halo RE seems to be trying to get into the Bhansali arena and Tod Tadaiya trying to provide a Dabang opportunity to Salman.

One curious aspect of the movie is the act of Sonam. She looks isolated and seems to amuse herself with her own act , sharing no chemistry with the hero besotted. She reminds you of Rekha in many ways and is hopelessly miscast.

Earnest request  to Sooraj – we love your movies the way they are. This world requires some affection and sweetness. But don’t start mixing up and serving a concoction of Bajrangi Bhaijaan and HAHK. Just does not work.

The city I live in apparently sliced off a few minutes from the 180 minutes. Wonder how tough it must be for the people enduring the entire length. 

Main tho Thak gayo

**

Plagued by a word

I was very annoyed. My shirts and pants were not being laundered well. I had walked into office with a wrinkled shirt and people who never ever wished me a ‘Good morning’ had suddenly gone “ Hey Happy Wrinkles”. My hands first rushed to my face to check for bodily wrinkles creeping in with age before sighing with relief at the more synthetic reference being made.

The laundry man stood at my door step.

‘ Look Dhobi Saab I pay you well and wait patiently for the delivery and you cannot just get me wrinkled pants and shirts “ I said my face reasonably grim

“ Saab, you seem to have become intolerant nowadays”  the Dhobi replied looking quite grim himself.

“ What ?” Wondering if I had heard right

“ Intolerant Saab. Highly intolerant.” The dhobi reiterated.

“ Wow ‘ I said forgetting my wrinkles for the moment “ Hi Fi English ! Wow “

“ What do you mean Saab by Wow and Hi Fi. Are you making some discriminatory statement ?” He said turning red

”Uh …err I am sorry If I sounded like that, but did you just say intolerant and discriminatory. I am happily surprised to see your language getting more …err stronger”

“ Sir I think you really are now annoying me and if you continue to do so I will have to return the electric razor you gave me 3 years back as a Diwali gift’

‘ Oh no no , sorry if I offended you, but why return the razor, you must have used it right, it must be not even working now, I mean sorry …what I meant was you don’t need to get too offended  just by some casual remarks”

The dhobi looked satisfied and calm. I was worried about looking for another Dhobi in the 10Sqkm area.

“ And you can continue to give me wrinkled shirts ok I don’t mind and no need to return my gifts, even the 1000bucks I gave you along with the razor”

The dhobi looked a bit nervous.

“Ok sir got to go . Have deliveries in many other houses. Will get late and people are getting intolerant these days “

I shut the door and returned to the living room muttering under my breath about the changing times. 

The wife was around and noted my disconcert.

“Dear what’s up. What’s bothering you?”

“ I just don’t understand the attitude of these laundry professionals. I need to feel sorry to point out 

mistakes in their job which they should be doing efficiently anyway”

“Dear don’t you think you have become a tad bit intolerant ?”

“What …!” That word again. What was it like? A word plague ?

I walked away in a huff and then spied into my son’s room.  The laptop was open.

“ You up to games again ?” I huffed and then puffed

“ Dad, yes. Finished my homework and was chilling”

“ But you have exams tomorrow and how dare you play games ?”

“ Dad but I am ready and the psychologist Nancy says it is good to play a game or watch a movie before the exams to relax the nerves”

“ Just beat it . And shut that game down and open your text books” I screamed

“ Uh ! You seem to have become really intolerant dad “

I did not stand around. I was perhaps dreaming . The word was chasing me around. Was it my imagination.

“ Dad” I jerked back to reality

“ Here take this” my son said handing out his old PS2 “ I don’t want it anymore . I am returning it “

“ What ??? . Anyway you don’t use it after you got the PS4 . So what’s this returning business?”

“ I don’t know dad, I am sad and want to return something which is not useful to me anymore . So thought of returning that to you”

The logic did not make any sense but then nothing seemed to on this day.

Back jumping into my favorite bean bag I switched on the TV. My favorite debate called the  “Newsecond “ was to start.

I was startled again when a jingle on TV chimed

“This programme is brought to you by Intolerant soap, it just does not tolerate dirt. You will love it”

This was really a bad dream for sure. The anchor had come on with his opening line now.

“ Welcome to Newsecond and we bring you this debate on whether we really have become an Intolerant society”

I just buried my head in the newspaper. I was tired and emotionally drained.

Switched off the TV and logged on to the internet on my IPad.

Search for Intolerant, I typed on google

The result thrown up

“Originated 1765, Missing since October

2015”

Feeling left out ..

‘What’s up’ my wife asked, looking at me through the corner of her eye while she remained fixated on the TV screen with some character staring frozen and wide eyed at her. I did not answer immediately. I too was fixated by the person on the TV who seemed to have popping eyeballs , nostrils flaring and eyebrows arching to touch the hairline. There was volcanic music in the background so I knew the person on the TV set was not frozen. And not giving up too easily either. It was like a game of who blinks first. But here it seemed that this character was a hands down winner. I looked at the whites and wondered if they used some good eye cleanser which also compressed arteries to make the blood capillaries appear less vivid and less red. But then I am digressing. I allow the character on the TV to bleed his eyes out and turn back to the wife.

“What’s up?” she repeated arching her eyebrows now.

Worried that I was just about to get into a ‘who blinks first session” in real life I answered

‘Well nothing really, you fasting?’

‘What?? ‘She asked, her eyebrows really arching now and those two question marks there to emphasize the height of the arch.

‘You know like fasting the whole day, the moon etc.?’ I asked weakly not sure if I was paraphrasing well

‘What are you talking about?’ She now reached out for the remote and put the guy on the telly on real freeze. Perhaps she did not want to miss out on any of the artistry on display.

‘You know some guys at the office were chatting at the coffee machine about having to leave early for the day due to some moon and fast issues’

‘Hey wait, you tell me you never have time to go to the coffee machine?’ She asks her eyebrows still doing their mountain act

‘Look you are digressing’, I said, ’I passed the coffee machine and there was this group of four guys who were animatedly comparing notes on how to get back home so that they wives could see them and then have their first meal of the day. And you know what they looked like a cult by themselves and I was feeling left out’

‘What?’ She asked her face puzzled looking completely flummoxed apparently either with my expectation or with the fact that I had spent time at the coffee machine when I had been earlier claiming I never spent time there or perhaps the fact that I was looking like a wimp sharing girly stories with her

‘From when have you started believing in festivities anyway? That is a festivity in another part of our country and in the south we never celebrate and we never did in our so many years of marriage. Why today? The other day I had to drag you to do some basic Ganesh puja and you had this urgent telecon to attend to“ Her voice went vacillating from extreme annoyance to the vulnerable

“Well Uh, I, uh, surely you care about me don’t you? I mean like pray for my life, my welfare etc. “I asked weakly

She sprung up from the sofa now looking worried reaching out for my forehead

“You are ok dear? Are you experiencing fever of any kind? Sit down will you. Let me get you some water”

“No, I am fine just wanted to know you care for my welfare and are praying for my longevity?” I said recovering the strength in my voice and pushing her hand away, offended

“Dear, tell me the truth.Have you been sneaking behind my back and watching my TV soaps?” She asked genuinely concerned

“ Of Course not ,‘ I replied horrified that she could even think that, ‘ and I am sure these guys at the office preening of the festivity and feeling part of a core group, do not either. But their wives seem to really have cracked the code for displaying their affection to them”

Her expression changed from disappointment to flummox to now a bit angry. Her eyebrows were doing their arch act again but this time the combination with flared nostrils was a bit disturbing and unsettling.

‘Remember how in Khabhi Khushi Khabhi Ghum Kajol did that for SRK? “

She was now looking worried sure that she had lost her husband’s sanity

‘You know my friend Veena Gupta she also has never celebrated these days but thanks to the soaps and the depiction in the movies her husband too has been asking her that .Look here dear, everyone has a different way of celebrating their joys of life and in the south we have a different way. If you want we can go and look at the moon even now if that helps. But with the haze even that is not possible!! “

“Hey it’s not just about the moon” I said angrily

“Then? “

“It’s about the feeling that you care for my longevity that you care for my welfare, even Subu’s, Ganya's and Hegde’s wives were doing it and they are also from the south. So then? “I challenged back

She let out a sigh!

“Come on dear out with it, what is bothering you? Surely it cannot be this festivity. We never spoke about this in years of marriage and now this? What is it? What is bothering you?”

“ Ahem well you see I have been getting all these updates on What’s App and FB with pictures posted by my friends and their wives with so many glorious statuses and just look at the likes and gasps they are eliciting. Don’t you think I also aspire for that?”

She could not believe her ears apparently as she went silent for a minute and then she silently gets up walks over gets her phone and proceeds to take a selfie with us together.

“Smile “She orders angrily

I grin as hard as I can. She grins as hard as she can.

She posts it on our common groups

“Thrilled to be spending a lovely evening with the darling of my life. Waited all day for him. Prayed for his long life. Looking forward to a rocking evening”

“Ok? “ She asked like asking a small child who had just been handed over his candy

“ You did not pout”, I say weakly again but sense this is too risky,”Yeah it’s fine”

I started to look appeased. Strong enough to be able to stand among my peers on the groups with sufficient evidence that we had a rocking life full of festivities and endorsed by the world. The Love You all’s and mwahs started pouring in

My heart also seemed to be beating better.

Emotional Clouds - Leave an impact on me . Movie ..Well..UH !

The stupendous impact of a surreal movie with an outstanding script, direction and cast is still wear off from the previous week. The razor sharp Talvar and its chief protagonist Irfan Khan leave such a mesmerizing effect on you that you do not dither one minute before heading back to the cinemas at the mere mention of his name on the movie bill boards of Jazbaa. Yes we know it’s a comeback vehicle of Aishwarya Rai and that the megaphone is being wielded by the snazzy director of Shootout at Lokhandwala.  We know that it is the story of a female lawyer forced to pick up the case of a clear convict on death penalty if she wants to save her child’s life. No that is not revealing the story. That is the premise being bandied about in the teasers and the various press releases. You do know it is heavily inspired by a Korean movie.

You settle in to some fast moving clouds, artificially filtered skyline of Mumbai. You tell yourself they are setting the mood. The camera then tries to find its own sweet spot in various degrees at curious angles all across the landscape and cannot decide where to settle in. The scene opens to the hotshot lawyer doing her Anil Ambani run across the shoreline of Mumbai with some impressive stretches thrown in. Though why she has a smirking Bond like facial expression is not clear as nothing thrilling to annoy her has yet happened. You tell yourself she is back from a hiatus, must be nervous of how she is presented and is perhaps over exerting herself to look determined and natural, too look her part of the annoyed mother, the portion which is yet to come of course.

The snazzy director is in love with the horizon and those clouds moving at a speed that could put Sandy Hurricane clouds to shame. There is still something wrong with the colors though. The sky seems to follow an artificial pattern of its own in contrast to the repeated shots of the city landscape. It almost feels like the signature shots of a Manhattan TV series. Considering the pace at which the movie moves it could well have been one.

The cop played by Irfan Khan is a rogue cop but good man and has some of the movies best lines penciled in for him in obvious respect to his international wry humor status and also because he was cheered for his one liners in PIKU. Irfan thumps his chest and puts in his best. Every time he steps in on the silver screen it lights up. He can make an ordinary good morning sound so interesting. But even he too is not convinced that his potential love interest is Aishwarya and keeps a safe distance from her and mumbles all his hidden feelings for her in whispers lest she hear him. He is there to support her as she screams her lungs out when her daughter is kidnapped. That is Aishwarya in her most unbelievable avatar. You cannot just believe that this is the same Aishwarya of Dhoom or Guru. She is just trying too hard.

Irfan bridging two movies as a law keeper is having a ball when he is on his own mouthing badass monologues and a shocked audience gets up to giggle. He is very tentative and extremely conscious when he is around Aishwarya. Watch him as he cautiously holds her every time, almost careful not to annoy her. Their chemistry just does not work. The sad part is that Aishwarya has some excellent work with Mani Ratnam and Sanjay Lela Bansali though she does go overboard at the drop of a hat. She should have chosen to produce a smarter work with a more appropriate director who could have used her sensitivity, than make her scream the rooftops with bulging red eyes. Just does not work.

There are lots of drab court scenes with an uninspired Atul Kulkarni and a surprising cameo by Shabana Azmi who walks through her part with confidence but not with great interest. Maybe a more intricate plot with characters built up, fleshed out and not too much focused on the producer could have helped. Maybe it was just a comeback trigger with better things to come yet. Aishwarya should quit trying too hard. She is a fine actress with good directors and just needs to find her sweet spot. And one prays that Irfan does not get too caught up with trying to over use himself in trying to make some well-deserved moolah in commercial films.

It was tough to sit through the two hours plus pulsating camera trying to keep pace with flying emotional clouds which is the most I remember of the movie. The ½ star in the 1.5 is purely for Irfan. Sanjay could do better to go back to his mobster realism genre.

1.5

Fishing for the real truth and justice – Talvar

A searing screenplay threatens to burn up all commonly held theories of the real life case. Crackling writing, well researched script that treads the dangerous edge of almost delivering a judgement on the biggest botched case of Indian civilian crime history

Distanced incidents generally have a cursory impact on our minds. The remoteness from the incidents and the subjects, creates a chilling indifference and a casual judgement in our minds about the people involved. The double murder case in Delhi was one such. Most of us including me  have been personally guilty of casually absorbing details served to us by the investigating agencies and the courts resolute in our belief then that the agencies involved truly come up with irrefutable conclusions to the cases they handle. Again a view propounded by heroic stories of these agencies in our movies. Distance does create a blurred vision. As you get on with the hurly burly of life  you also give into accepting graphic details of lurid behavior in ordinary people perhaps because it caters to your need to be surprised. And perhaps also because it is easy to devour gossip. Helps to give you a closure on an uncomfortable theory of parents potentially murdering their children. You do not want to believe that happened. And if it indeed happened then perhaps it was because the people had dirty stories in their closet. Convenient to use that appendage to prop up our own sense of relief that it was not a natural order of things.

Meghna and Vishal with Talvar use that rusted sword of justice as a clever proxy to prod you wide awake and whisper, without any clear intention to conclude, that, perhaps there is more to it that needs your attention. That perhaps this has happened to ordinary people, like you, who went about their daily life as joyously as you did without any dark deeds till fate struck them a tragic blow and then things went downhill. And that is when it hits you, that we live in a humoungsly imperfect society especially in our country. You want to pray that you never ever have to deal with a dangerous system should anything unfortunate happen that requires intervention from the governance. Everything about the system seems to be flawed. Is it a wrong people or the wrong system? Is it a perfect system with dangerous people or is it a flawed system with good people trying to make their best of it. The answer seems to lie somewhere in between

We had sunk into our sofas content in sniggering at the upper middle class professional families and their lurid and lusty lifestyles. It was fed to us by the media who in turn were fed by the system. You cringed as you dined watching the seemingly impassionate couple not display enough sorrow as perhaps you would have wanted to. That one lacuna in empathetic behavior seemed to confirm to the vast majority of us that there was more to it than they revealed. She did not cry. How debased is our feeling?

Thanks to creative stalwarts like Meghna and Vishal who worked for three years researching to an extent with impartial integrity all sides of the story leading up to the double murder case of the daughter Delhi family of dentists and their resident servant. Every cast member in this brilliantly and honestly scripted movie is outstanding. Commencing from the bumbling police officer eager to help his superior close the case with a convenient theory of honor killing after the 13 year old girl is found murdered in her home by her own parents. Not really classic behavior for potential killers really. The first suspect the servant himself is found dead a day later on the locked terrace. It seems astounding today that no one thought of investigating the terrace just a floor above.

It is good fortune to an extent that an honest officer brought in by the investigating agency flips the police theory on its head and ascribes the guilt to the servant’s friends who are since free.  Thanks to sick politics and a case of one upmanship the case is sought to be debunked by their own people and a second team investigates and tries to dump the original theory.

I have not seen a more critical analysis of a real life murder and its aftermath on the screen before. It is morbid but makes you feel comfortable that all hope is not lost yet. That there are people in the industry for who the art is still to be used to furthering fairness and  goodness in society and not just serve as mindless entertainment. To use art as a medium to make critical commentary and softly challenge judgements without treading on fault lines and risking contempt of court.

Konkana Sen and  Neeraj Kabi as the parents, Prakash Belawade as the retiring agency head, Atul Kumar , Sohum Shah, the actors playing the suspected murderers , every member of the cast playing bit roles impressively excel in their realistic portrayal. The credit for that goes perhaps to the director and the producer- writer for taking the pains to extricate those performances. Everything seems so real. It reinforces the theory that I hold about great movies being those where not only the leading cast performs but each and every character that fills in the creative space on the screen making it a wholesome experience.

And when you leave the theatre you are left with a ceaseless applause for that marvel of an actor Irfan. Displaying simple nuances. Watch him make wry remarks, playing with his glasses, smirking on video games as he interrogates a potential suspect. The terrific ensemble lead by the inimitable Irfan exhibits what artistry in cinema is about. And then that unforgettable climax scene where agencies debate various theories. A rocking scene which I can safely say is one of the best I have ever seen in a Hindi film. So well written so well enacted. One may want to watch the movie again just for that one scene. Brilliant scripting.

The movie may not only serve as an ingredient for heated debates on the weekends but perhaps instigate a relook at the whole case from a new angle with pressure building up from the masses and not just relegated to good mood days of a few investigating or judging authorities. 

The movie does equal justice to all the angles trying to play an impartial role as a medium just bringing the theories to you but the nudge wink effort towards one angle is not lost on the audience and we know where our sympathies will lie till proven otherwise. If this movie manages to change the course of events I think a round of applause to the people behind this creative work led by Vishal Bharadwaj and Meghna Gulzar is in order

Watch it to know that justice denied should be a cross to carry for a nation with conscience.

*****

When Quest meets sufficiency

To Quest for something that we do not have is the eternal nature of mankind. And to not do justice to it a curse of over sufficiency. You go searching for a home and the ebullient agent as a nature of his job sells to you the unique selling points of each home and each condo that is on the market. By their good natured description the city should be full of homes that you would never want to let go. Has it made ever made you wonder that estate agents are the most positive people we can meet. They never decry or deride anything or anyone. But more on that some other time. Back to our quest. Assuming it is a condominium that each of us is after we would really crave to know the facilities that come with the condo. After all the homes are defined more by their exterior facilities than their interiors.

“So how many facilities here? “ You ask.

“Lots. Look there are tennis courts, squash courts, skating rink for the young” The agent looks at you with search for fulfilment in your eyes.

But you are not through yet.

“How many? “ Yes you are not going to be satisfied with just one court of each. There better be at least something to compete with the Wimbledon facilities.

“Two?? “  The agent says hoping that it should be enough for you to practice your long abandoned game.

“Hmmm” meaning well will manage with these two but let’s look at other facilities before I am satisfied.

“Swimming pools? “

“ Three in total’ the agent says,’ one Olympic size and two small ones “

And then you whip the finale quest “Gym? “

“Oh yes, there is one with 15 treadmills” the agent says while looking over and wondering when was the last time the potential client had ever stepped on one.

“Is it open 24 hours?”

“No” Weakly

“Aha...”  You go, having found one weak point that you can use to show your discontent with the place later if required.

Then the views of the home and the floors. You are always looking for that one eternal bliss of a view that will last forever. One view that will get you the envy of the Joneses. Make you the pride of the neighborhood. But is there one such unique view?

Since most of the country is green it is unlikely you will ever have a view that you are dissatisfied with. With a condo like Interlace you will have homes looking in all directions.

Which floor is really the best? Is it better to be on a lower floor or be an elitist top floor resident.

I wondered about our quest. And it does not exclude me. I am a state of art in asking the questions above. But in that fragile moment of introspection I wonder about our quest. Why are we always in search of more than what is on offer. What will I do with an Olympic size swimming pool when I am yet to make my way to the changing rooms six months after I became a resident? What will I do with 15 treadmills if running on one for fifteen minutes makes me wheeze away to glory? How much time from the hurly burly of life do I really get to sit in my balcony on a higher floor and stare away into the horizon or relish the greenery?

I suspect most of it comes from our need to be acknowledged by visiting friends and relatives as having a superior environment around. There is no upper definition of superior. It is a moving milestone for our eternal quest for more than what we have.

In the entire search for materialistic nirvana did we actually ask the simple question who our neighbors are? It is not too strange to find people sardonically grin and say

“It’s been three years and I have never seen my neighbor”

One never even wishes people on the way down to the lobby in the lift. No smiles. We don’t like friendly or over friendly people. We wouldn’t care much about who lived in within ten feet of our homes. But we all individually care to live in the best environment individually enjoying the best in life. It is not about becoming altruistic. It is not even about becoming overly pushy in getting acquainted with people who value their solace and quietude.

It is just a lazy reflection on my part with me being equally guilty of all that I have written above. To be eternally in the search of materialistic happiness within confined selfish boundaries. I am going to make a promise. I will try to smile at a few people every day and let them wonder what’s wrong with me. It boils down to the essence of life. Materialism is finite but emotions live on forever.

Is Death Divine ?

Reader Alert - If you feel queasy about the notion of discussing death please do not proceed beyond this point ! 

The fear of Divine Death

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee

Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;

For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow

Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.

-       John Donne

Termination of all biological functions. That is how Death is defined. It is not the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow that you look forward to. Instead you are hurtling towards it on the train of time. A train that cannot stop. Stop so that you may admire life but learn to savor it as it passes you by. And in that treatment it is uniform to all. Everyone is aboard the same vehicle. All perceived superiority helping as differentiators come to a grinding halt when you meet death. It looks at everyone with the same cold impassioned vision and your wealth; educational indexes are rendered to the dustbins of life.

Death is the climax of our life. It is the endgame that no one is keen to reach. We are scared of the nothingness beyond. It was a lazy Sunday when I began thinking about what frightens us about this nothingness and why our life revolves around preventing ourselves from derailing in life and meeting it too early. And what does happen after you meet it.

Robin Sharma elucidated on life before death and talked about how to do your best before you die in his book on “Who will cry when you die “. So that you are remembered for it .He tells you about a life that ends before you know if you while away and reach a point of looking back with regret over a lifetime wasted. So he recommends you to realize your potential to the fullest, to seize the opportunity to do well unto yourself and those around you. What is the legacy that you leave behind?

I thought it could be interesting to reach beyond this barrier of end of your time, turnaround from beyond life and see what it is that you were so scared of was. But for that one had to know what one looked like dead. To be not scared of it. To look at it as the culmination of all events like any other in your life. What then bothers us about dying? What, like John Donne, makes us want to live on and not face the dreadful and mighty death. It is the thought of terminating those bonds of affection which we built around us. Those who we learnt to love and protect and perhaps for whom we lived to provide best that a life on earth could offer. Protecting them from miseries brought on by ill-health and social life. And then one day it’s kaput. You just don’t exist for them anymore. You cannot reach back and tell them how much you felt for them. You cannot undo the mistakes. It is too late. You are beyond the terminus of life and from the yonder if you can indeed look back there is nary a thing you can do about it.

I came across a snap taken when I was in a post-surgery sleep. The hospital’s white covers seemed to provide an eerie feel to the snap like a lifeless person with a shroud. Almost like one could look at the climatic station of life. Is this how one looks when one is dead? I wondered!  I stared at the picture for a long time mulling over the calmness that seemed to pervade the motionless face. The superstitious advisories of all elders on how to not speak about death as it waits in a station near you should you think of it, vanished. Instead there was serious introspection.  I felt lie it was indeed some escape. No professional challenges to think of, no meaningless competitive work wars to fight over, no fears of financial security to worry about, no worries on how to protect a future that seemed to revolve only around preventing oneself from becoming poor or not having enough to eat and on a more practical note having enough to be proud in a peer group, live in a place at the end of your life in a house that seemed appropriate to your status, move around with friends as high up on the social ladder as possible and be rich enough to have the personal banker greet you with delight every time you visit the bank.

And then I cringed. How shallow! Looked at the picture again. Who will cry when I die? Not the companies you work for. Not the folks in the neighborhood you lived in. Because in the society today they will probably have to go to the Facebook page to know how the guy who died, looked like. Not the friends who will hurry up with their RIPs just in case they are seen as insensitive. Immediate family members will be affected of course. It is the impact of, bonds of habit, breaking. The comfort zone is disturbed. The fallacies of the person seem to recede in the background and a gloom filled arena of regret takes over. How things could have been better! It is the salutary effect of mourning with guilt where one hopes to want to undo sometimes genuinely and sometimes more as a societal compulsion.

But remember the train is moving on for the rest. The body has been dumped in the eternal journey of life. The memory of the dead person becomes a distant diminishing vision as the train chugs farther away. When you look over the wall do you get offended that people do not miss you or remember you as much as you would love them to do? But you cannot get offended. Regret is an emotion is on this part of the life terminus. One must remember that everyone gets eased out of the train at some point. Life goes on and it must go on for those who stay on and have to continue to worry about the miserable competitive living. Your photo hung on the wall is not going to help them. Your bank balance left behind to some extent will. But a physical presence till the end of their life could have.

You feel humbled when you imagine yourself dead. The acceptance of mortality has that effect. All that superiority buffing you up through the various perceived materialistic successes in life are futile unless they are spiritual. Spiritual that comes from an elevated soul. An elevation that emanates from doing well to society. To those around you. No success propelled by impaling those around you and making them lesser human beings will aid that elevation. Perhaps extending an emotional support system to living beings within the boundaries of a region, those within your physical and spiritual impact may perhaps rise above the framework of the physical universe and pervade the soul network if it exists.

What does this mean for us now when we can physically read this and how do we actualize its potential. I look at the snap again. Was it worth building up all that futile ego like carbon inside the engine of life reducing its efficiency and power? Anger that we perpetuate within ourselves to help fuel our negative emotions. Manipulate strategies with vile next steps in the world outside to step to the next level of perceived professional success and beam in the peer group of winners.  Should I stop nurturing the little animal of revenge against people who have wronged me in life and use that energy elsewhere? Should I stop worrying about how to get that next big physical and materialistic asset, to be less ashamed of not conforming on time with similar winners from peer groups! Is my victory at being able to garner sufficient acknowledgement of everything I do in life or just use this magic of life that exists for now within me for a larger purpose.

I am not interested in finding greater spiritual meaning to life nor achieving super stardom in wealth and position on the ladder of success as those we work will hope to see in us. But I think the answer lies somewhere in between. But most importantly in not being afraid of death. You can be afraid of the pain that brings death. But not death itself. Death is only a culmination of a role that you were playing in a magical life.

Did you make the best of it or did you succumb to emotions controlled by the powerful chemicals in our brain. Did you reach a status where you looked from beyond the wall of life and in the parallel universe and smile (if you still can) and feel

“Hey that was not bad?” ‘It is good being DEAD. Divine Death. Understand it and you will perhaps embrace better life today’

Important to be human first citizen next – Bajrangi Bhaijaan

Wondering when was the last time I ventured into a theatre and did not get blasted with over the top dialogue, colours, background sound and over the top acting. If it had something to do with patriotism it had to be even more vocally violent. Loud shrieks and the power of the lungs equated love for the country. And if it had to be about people across borders the caricaturing of burlesque characters had to abound in the chase for authenticity. Luckily Bajrangi Bhaijaan succumbs to none of those temptations as its Bajrangi devotee – Pavan Kumar Chaturvedi Salman Khan makes no bones about his eternal quest to be a conformist and generally be a nice truthful human being. Colours run riot as his devotional character is established and culminates with his coming across a little mute girl who has wandered off into Indian territory from the Pakistan side across Wagah.  While Pawan makes genuine attempts to shake off his responsibility towards the little girl, she finds familial comfort in him. After rescuing her from harrowing incidents with unsocial elements he takes upon himself the arduous task of returning the little girl to her parents across the border

How does one get a girl across the border without passports, visa and acceptance of the fact that the mute girl is indeed a Pakistani citizen? Kabir Khan known for his entertainers like Ek Tha Tiger, New York and Kabul express all of which attempted new screenplay territories and weaving a gentle social message into it, does not disappoint. His prima facie victory is his casting.  It is doubtful if anyone other than the muscular but baby faced Salman could have fit the bill, Nawazuddin as a Pakistani Journalist does not even need any opinion on and the cute surprise package Harshali Malhotra who plays Shahida the little lost girl with such subdued panache that one finds it difficult to believe that she is actually not from Pakistan.  The best part of the story telling is that the director feels no compulsion to find excuses to get back to the heroine Kareena Kapoor playing Rasika – the hero’s family friend’s daughter despite a very clear love angle being developed. That one thought was the sincerity to the conviction of the story that needed to cross borders.

Treading dangerous terrain of potential offended feelings Kabir carefully treads the emotion mines and portrays both nationalities with polite and genuine justice. He defuses religion and geography sensitive bombs with the ease of a specialist and makes the audience comfortable with discussion of otherwise regularly volatile topics like the hesitation to visit the others religious sites or mouth religious salutations. There is a clear attempt to indicate that it is ok for both the religious communities not to ostracize the other’s approach to their religion or its practices. Tolerance towards communities at home is one aspect but reaching across communities across the borders requires even a wider chest and Kabir and Salman exploit that need to the fullest by scripting the bottom line – Being human is more important than being a citizen of a country

The movie is not in the face and does not have loud head banging music which usually hurts you even after you exit from a hall and goes at a steady pace sometimes even slowing down without  making you shift in your seat. The scenes supposedly across the border are captured with a lot of authenticity though on and off one does not notice shortfall in the ethno linguistic area as the people speaking  across the border still sound like at home. There are certain heart rending scenes that connect very well thanks to the artiste’s complete conviction towards their roles.  With its dose of comic interludes, tear jerking scenes and a lush photography it is a good watch for the entire family.

Songs do not really complement the strength in the story line but provide support. The leads are all into their roles with grand conviction and it is a treat to watch Harshali , Nawazuddin and the handsome Salman live up to the director’s expectation. Kabir true to his name strives to live up to his name of the saint who is revered by all. He seems to want to bring that thread of affection  with this attempt

The Indians and Pakistanis will not run into each other’s arms with this movie releasing in both the countries but it is guaranteed to make them want to look at each other with a different more accepting lens

It will be good to know what the gods make of it . Jay Shri Ram as Salman could have said.

Housekeep ! It's a Sunday

Very Busy sunday ! House keeping !

Deleted 2000 spam mails in my gmail and 4000 in my almost defunct Hotmail account.

Spent 1 hour unfriending 35 ghosts on my FB. They must have given up on me and life on FB long back. Nothing on their pages else they must have blocked me wink emoticon

Had a video chat on skype with my friends abroad for 1 hour. Fifty five minutes was spent on whether they could see and hear me clearly. By the time we could , we were exhausted so greeted each other for five minutes and closed shop.

Collected the weeks mail from the post box and destroyed 200 advertising mailers.

And finally for my dead What's App account where I am part of 267 groups, spent four hours deleting inspiring messages, breathtaking attachments of performances and good mornings, evenings and nights of the last 254 days. All this because my phone refused to allow me to do anything more unless I freed up the memory.

Whoosh ! Sweating. And my wife has the gall to say I spent the day whiling away without doing any work 

Shruti ..Maybe you want to hear me out ?

Dear Shruti,

Hello and Good sunday morning !

Always believed you were the most cute lady on TV. Your persona is very endearing. I actually saw Comedy circus only for you. You are like a little sister one would love to have.

However the other day I was a tad disappointed by your Tweet on the PMs action of asking people to take selfies with their daughter. Disappointed not because you opinionated on the popular PMs request  but because I see in his request a genuine possibility to explode awareness in one single action.

It is absolutely not a question of whether you have a right to share your opinion or not but by questioning a very valuable game changing request you are doing it disservice.

Please allow me to explain. The people of this country are very simple. I am not talking about your or me. It is the vast majority of simple humble people who unfortunately are given into crass way of looking at their daughters in a differentiated manner. These people are also imitators of who they follow. They do everything that a leader does. If the leader tells them to take a selfie and show respect for their daughter they will. Is this in itself not a simple win for women folk of India and elevating respect ?

You are yourself very popular. And elements of doubt on this sneaking into the people's mind only does disservice which I am sure is not your intent.

Should the people have hurt you with their reactions to your tweet? Absolutely not. Can it be avoided? Possibly not. Because it is these very crass people that the PM hopes to change with his request.

Please do not get hurt by the dozens that are abusive and vulgar. But please do not give a chance to the thousands like me who find you endearing but start suspecting the intent of your opinion. Simply because yes it matters

Hope you find merit in my view.

Best wishes

warm regards
Navindutt
Singapore

DDD - Sincere Ensemble cast,witty one liners, joyous colours and an impassionate dog

Crackling wit sprinkled along the entire length of the leisurely storyline. Classily subdued humor that takes potshots at the hypocritically pretentious rich families who are all a hoax and monetarily hollow beneath their branded exterior. 

Charitably bandied together in a sponsored cruise on the hopes of rescuing failing businesses, the various families with their expertly etched out roles crisscross each other’s lives. The audience and the friendly dog get a ringside seat to watch the ceramic outer of the pseudo rich crumble to reveal as ordinary as can be humans that dwell within with their fair share of one upmanship, envy, love, hatred and apathy for relationships gone sour over time. 

With Zoya we discover or rather rediscover life family and relationships on journeys to exotic lands. If it was Goa or Spain previously on road trips, this time the terrain shifts from land to water. And startling blue it is. Richness needs to be defined in as sumptuous colors as money can buy and a cruise ship provides that. A smart Zoya also smartly keeps the hoi polloi out by moving turning a cruise ship in the sea into her studio though surprisingly overawed by the territorial privacy and efficiency in shooting that it provided her she does not exploit its facilities too much tending to instead do some PR for Turkey 

A gorgeous family of a apparently successful businessman on the brink of bankruptcy, a disinterested son who makes sad business presentations without his heart in it, a married but business savvy daughter and disowned with typical arrogance that rich old school Indians reserve for their female offsprings and a wife quietly resigned to her husband’s secret affairs and lack of sincerity in their marriage. He sponsors a cruise across exotic lands to friendly and unfriendly business partners in the keen hope to buy deals to seal his financial security. 

With an assemblage of family, friends and adversaries who could be potential family businessman Mehra ( Anil Kapoor) and his sulking no nonsense wife (Shefali Shah) set off with fun loving son Kabir(Ranveer), a miffed married daughter Ayesha ( Priyanka ) who has been ignored on the invite to the cruise ,her control freak hubby Manav (Rahul Bose), potential future bail out hope (Parmeet Sethi ) and the sutradhaar dog Pluto ( voice- Aamir Khan) meeting on board with dancer Farah(ANushka) and Farhan as Sunny Gill – good friend of Ayesha 

With a large cast, well etched characters, numerous endless conflicts, dramatic face offs the possibilities of an entertaining ride is endless and Zoya does not disappoint at all. It requires astute presence of mind, freaking control of the script, tough captaincy and an ability to not get overwhelmed by all the characters in the story crying for attention and a proper happy closure. Zoya makes it look effortless. 

It is unfair to start dwelling and describing the story any further without impairing the fun element for fresh viewers because it is all about the surprise element in the sophisticated witty dialogues. There is a constant tongue in cheek refrain through the script. The sarcastic takes on the rich Delhites are never offensive or hurtful but chuckle inducing. 

It is a dysfunctional family with each of the characters at crossroads with each other’s expectation. No one is perfect but every character somewhere succumbs to the exhibition of the emotional power that another loved one has on him or her. Can they break out of their own threshold of personal security to discover lost love, make new friends or reconnect in failed marriages. Does love finally conquer the all-powerful language of money. Zoya explores this intelligently and with a lot of entertainment bringing all of this together in a controlled explosion of classy colors, an ensemble of characters each of who acts from the lead to the person who has just one line, scorching beautiful photography. 

Most discerning quality of the movie is the way it treats its characters who dot the heavily populated storyline. Not a single actor overacts or hams. Mark out Vikrant Massey as the handsome dude who falls for new comer Riddhima Sud in the scene where they are cornered, Lalit and Vinod as the business men who are always at crossroads and come together to work on a life boat, whistles for Farhan Akhtar making a limited presence as Priyanka’s ex love interest, a slightly out of sorts but impressive Anushka as the dancer, Zarina Wahab as Priyanka’s mother in law and Rahul Bose playing the annoying husband to the hilt. Watch out his reactions during a tennis match. 

Even a gaggle of Delhi housewives comprising among them Divya Seth ( an actress of good caliber missing for a long time), Preeti Mamgain ( who impressed us since the Banegi apni baat days) ,Debanshi Shah are absolutely impressive and not forgettable. Even Manoj Pahwa seen so often in movies actually finds his mettle here. 

It is difficult not to mention each and every character that dots the landscape and does tremendous justice to their role. I would say a first time in history

Which brings us to the awesome foursome in this story mainly the lead characters who give it all they have. Anil Kapoor and Shefali know their craft but are so wonderfully subdued only erupting briefly when required. Shefali constantly reminds you of Jaya Bhaduri with her brilliant range. Never thought however that  we will talk of Priyanka and Ranveer as great actors. But they indeed are just that, stupendous. Priyanka hammed a lot in Barfi but it is a huge relief and a delight to watch a subdued Priyanka speak more with her eyes and soft facial expressions. Ranveer is the real find. He has found himself with his perfected sense of comic timing and there are many times that you laugh because of the silence. Each of the 200 plus characters dotting the landscape of the movie are brilliant and Zoya deserves kudos for that. 

Shankar Ehsaan Loy craft some songs with lot of joie de vivre. The nonstop one take shot of Gallan Goodiyan is delightful. Watch out as far as you can into the screen and you can see the most nondescript side actors doing their bit sincerely. 

So why does half the crowd come out compare it to TWMR. Because there is no slapstick comedy here and the script unfolds at a leisurely pace. The well-spaced out emotions is what actually helps you to believe that the Mehras are who they are , a dysfunctional but loving family with equally good friends. Beneath the surface dwell good people is the message. They just need to find themselves. 

DEspite  the crackling one liners through the script the pace slackens at times making you feel the director stepped out to think where to take the movie next. The humour at places is a bit forced or just too sophisticated to make impact. But it does not hurt. You keep smiling through the 31/2 starrer. DDD. Well Done Zoya ! 

(Alert - I have a strange feeling, people who liked TWMR will hate this movie :-) )

The curious case of Manu meeting Dhatto!

You shift excitedly in your chair as other patrons breeze in chattering loudly as the credits roll by. No I won’t get into how a large behind blocks my view for a full 2 minutes while the owner of the behind figures out with the companion how to switch on the torch in the mobile to find  their mysteriously hidden seats. Finally they decide they decide the direction of their trajectory while of course munching loudly on their popcorns

I am not at all irked with that. I am beside myself with excitement. Watching a Kangana Ranaut Movie. When was the last we said that .Wow first one that after the Big B. The pure lure for the movies. The teaser was a real tease. The Haryanvi avatar of Tanu with the structurally challenged teeth and rapid fire Haryanvi was an absolute draw. You settle with excitement in the seat and wait for the fun to begin.

A large building with dimly lit rooms and three characters in whites act real bad, ask horrendous questions to a well-dressed couple who for some strange reason look fazed but not troubled. Hold it. The punch has to come yet. You tell yourself. Don’t be impatient. The wife calls the husband a piece of ginger. You chuckle and then quickly repress it as you realize you look like one too. The husband then tries weakly to explain something nonsensical to the men in whites. By now I am distracted. I am trying to reason the logic. Who are these men? A mental institution. These people are talking about their marital discord or something like that. The wife looks more erratic akin to a disturbed person than a hassled wife. The man is unsure why he is there in the first place. And then without warning the husband is led away to be locked away in a mental institution. Uh!

The wife takes the next flight out of the country back home. She calls up husband’s acquaintance  and asks him to fly to London ( visas be damned ) and get the husband released from the mental institution because he is not carrying his credit cards.  Uh!

Sorry but I am fuming by this time. What in the heavens is this? We are almost 20 minutes into the movie! The heroine is back home to a set  reminiscent of small town India and mirroring yes Queen. Queen had a matchmaking session so we have one here. For absolutely no reason whatsoever the psychotic wife comes out semi-nude in a bathrobe and shocks the bridegroom's family. And half the people in the theatre fall down their seats with raucous laughter. I look around. Hello did I miss some subtitles. This has to be one of the crassest unrelated and unnecessary sequence simply added to establish perhaps that the near psychotic protagonist is a daring feminist.

There are more characters populating the scene than can be assimilated in the time that they are on the scene though there is serious effort to replicate a small town realistically.

Things seem to settle down when the dazed hero ( Madhavan with a perennially shocked and loser look) gets back to homeland and conveniently meets a look alike of his wife – Kangana at least doubling up in a much better enacted role of a Haryanvi young athlete 'Dhatto'. He is taken in obviously by the fact that her looks mirror that of his wife. Over a period of time with expressly forgettable sequences he gets to a situation where he is to marry her. So what are the complications that arise?

Convenient coincidences and  social messages are forced into the script without any commitment or emotion - a token nod to waving sociial causes at the audience while trying to be desperately funny.

There are lame attempts at slapstick comedy and the main laughs are drawn because of the small town lingo used and the audience is tickled pink probably to hear some nostalgic phrases like Mumbai audiences feel with “ maazi satakli”.There is something inherently wrong in a film that is forever trying to force laughter into scenes all leading to a very lame climax

Deepak Dobriyal as the hero’s relative and side kick is the best of the lot picking up the energy and helping a few chuckles coming along. Watch out for Mohammed Zeeshan Ayub. He is a ticking bomb and is destined to go far.An equally lost but extremely talented Jimmy Shergil walks around in a daze!

Madhavan – seriously what are you doing in this movie? Bad brief or just plain uninterested. The script is also not too kind to him showing him as bumbling weak man who has no mind of his own. I do not believe that Madhavan was being a gentleman and trying to take the backseat to allow Kangana to shine. 

And then to the Star K. You just cannot fault her. Especially when she is doing the Haryanvi athlete part. She certainly looks bored whenever she is asked to reprise her Queen role and repeat the dance with gay abandon. But she jumps into character for the Haryanvi role making the character completely loveable. But even with her gigantic effort she cannot make the plot appear sensible. All the stars just for her effort.

There are many characters in the sub plots who put in their best - just could not understand the references to IVF, wife hiding it from her husband, one character trying to get a married woman to agree to elope with him - something about some kidnapping when I took a quick five minute snooze and the art director just tries too hard with the result you are completely distracted by the excellent background sets than focusing on the main artists. You get tired of the Haryanvi dialect after some time as it distracting though it is not too difficult to follow.

To be fair to the director many in the audience were in splits in the first half probably due to the gimmick of including the Haryanvi dialect and Tomboy but post interval the audience was like a zombie and that should tell you about the movie.

Watch it if you liked the idea of a illogical but slapstick first part and are a fan of the Star K.The question remains why Manu meets Dhatto. Just a ploy to make a sequel with a nonsensical script.

But way to go Kangana! You are impressive. Sadly cannot say the same for the movie.

**1/2