'Dangaling' a fine artistic carrot !

Drenched in unflinching commitment to realistic portrayal Dangal makes no effort to grab your eyeballs. Instead it just executes and waits for your silent jaw dropped applause.

In the spirit of other sports movies in India before it be it Chak de ( the story pulsates throughout the movie ) and the more commercial Sultan and I was told also Saala khaddoos , Dangal has to work hard to break the story stereo typing and emerge more impressive.

Riding high on the task of battling social restrictions and a bias that stares at women in some parts of the country it is more an important film making a statement for emancipation of women and release them into a highly competitive uncharacteristic vocation and driving the spike into the ground to establish the possibility and its resounding success.

I did feel a sense of already knowing what was in store by watching the teasers which gave more than a fair sneak into the storyline but the utterly realistic portrayal by the four girls and the man of the moment himself Aamir makes up for any dissatisfaction that may arise from lack of major wow moments

The relationships between the characters have been painfully etched and that makes up for most of the story making them compelling persona in the minds of the viewers. Turning his lack of joy over having no male kids the wrestler is obsessed with training his girls much to the consternation of the society in a field which is more difficult than shocking due to the physical nature of the sports. But the girls simply roll over all hinderances with born ease and sizzle their way to international fame.

The controversial elements of how the sports bodies actually work are glossed over with surprising lack of detail and a slip into melodramatic speech by the father and the authorities turning emotional which is a far cry from how it must have happened

But you desperately want to overlook and instead cheer the girls to international victory

The fights are simple outstanding and never have I seen more realistic action and one can only
imagine the extent of efforts that must have gone into the shoot. Be it Aamir's own efforts making his 50 year body look like a 25 year olds without any prosthetic help and then casually turn into an aging fathers pot bellied visage or the little girls who train and turn into the young adult stars in wrestling , applause is a must.

Specially look out for the duel between the father and the daughter at one point . The scene rates as one of the finest in recent times bringing out a heady mix of emotion , physical battle, making a statement and bonding.

It may not surprise you with any wow moments and only leave you impressed only with the expert cast but the films deserves the standing cheers that it gets at the end simply for its trail blazing contribution to give the girls and women of our country their rightful place in society

It will be surprising if the movie does not bring a change in society in a small way

The background score is expectedly suitable ( Pritam) and the dull sets irk you a bit as also the Rajnikant stunt like lapses of frozen and slow mo action which is absolutely unnecessary

Aamir and his cast deserve your attention if you have not already been to the box office

***1/2

Its all about loving your mental health - Dear Zindagi

It’s all about loving your friends. But then Gauri Shinde is not my friend in the conventional sense save for hurried message once on FB. But there is an innate desire to want her to succeed. She was fabulous in English Vinglish and her innocent heartwarming responses to messages makes you protective about her work.

Watching Dear Zindagi is like gingerly stepping into a forbidden area of the personal life of a young girl traipsing through a career pregnant with possibilities for her but she has no patience for the delivery of success. She wants it and now!  Alia is a cinematographer (Not photographer thank you she corrects with bruised indignity) who wraps up a Singapore shoot as a stand-in for a DOP and yes has a night over with a colleague. She is established as the bored urban lass who cares not for broken emotions of restaurateurs or chocolatey musicians and has modern values. She dares to break boring stereotypes of girls in love drooling over music or oozing happiness over candle lights and desperately wanting to stay away from people who propose.  May sound familiar traits and sufferings of a young  girl in her 20s. But it has always been sought to be clamped and hopefully calmed down with marriage, trusting that it never resurfaces. But this block of angst is never cleared. It sits there festering as an unresolvable wound and ending up as mental health issue.

Gauri decides to propel this festering wound of a psychiatric situation right into the faces of society and urges the reluctant related stakeholders in our life to accept that it is ok to approach a psychiatrist and resolve emotional issues that come in the way of complete fulfilment of life.

That is the setting then for our young lass to accidentally bump into and then seek out a charming psychiatrist who wears torn jeans to drive home his messages about living life to the fullest and repairs cycles for young kids. The divorced with a kid ( thought it is difficult to understand why he failed with his wisdom in his personal life), psychiatrist tries to bring semblance of order in the thoughts of the young girl and that for most makes up the rest of the movie and ends up in parts as a very smart witty docu-drama on understanding and reaching out and becoming aware of one’s own unresolved problems which apparently become the foundation of latent disturbed personality in the future.

There are really no high point markers towards which the movie speeds but looks like a leisurely unravelling of a slice of life of a disturbed young film creative. The movie is peppered with witty and genuinely impressive one liners and some stark reality checks on how youngsters today view well intentioned parenting, snapping at parents and generally taking things for granted. ( Don’t let the failures of the past blackmail to current and ruin your future – the psychiatrist pronounces with a twinkle in his eye and you cannot help but allow a wow to escape your lips)

Alia is simply stupendous more than measuring up to the expectation of the young brash impatient blunt young girl who almost falls for the charming solution dispenser. Therein lies an almost unresolved tale as the director knowingly teases the audience having the pulse on the fact that superstar plays a psychiatrist with a charisma that cannot be ignored, age gap be damned.

Gauri leads a movie that moves along an inverted peak starting on a high, dipping badly into banter that almost sounds aimless at times and induces boredom into audiences which happily start looking up their messages and then take a leap forward as it the movie and its protagonist find their footing. There are very few high points in the movie and one gasps with delights in rare scenes like the one where a dapper looking  SRK plays Kabaddi on the shore.( reminds you of his Swades looks )

Sadly despite a charming screenplay, genuine intention and a robust screen presence of the lead cast the movie fails to hold your uncompromising attention like the directors previous effort.

But that cannot take away from the fact that it will nobly contribute to people in society actually boldly and maybe even make it a style statement to seek out psychologists and psychiatrists contributing to dampening the increasing angst in our society. It hurts to say the movie will be a difficult watch for those who love a few hours of escapist cinema. But those who do, do applaud for Karan Johar for backing such clear winners on presenting social messages in commercial cinema and not expecting the box office to crackle. Bravo Karan and SRK and Alia can well look forward to sharing the awards at the year end with Anushka.

And in the meantime do love  your life.



***

Fighting the Rip Van Winkle critics

It has been a tumultuous historic period in the history of the country. Called a savage move by those probably bruised financially and an astute game changer by the majority which ironically is stoically bearing the brunt of the impact of having to expend quality time getting hold of small currency to keep the daily life smooth.

There are voluntary natural born naysayers and and then are some treading that path on a rebound from some unconnected bad experience. People’s nodding logical support is generally construed to be some sort of devotion to the current rock star of a PM and his increasing brood of unarguably talented ministers. Surprisingly the war of disagreements has now moved from the streets to the cyber highways as packets of opinion clash with each other.

So much has been said and written about the derailment of the currency with removal of two key high value notes that the clear partition of the population seems almost as stark as the one decades before except that this time happily it is revolving around those impacted and pretending to rally for imaginary poor people and the majority which senses while suffering the impact that this is the labour pain that may deliver them from the stigma of corruption.

You watch biased TV anchors struggling to get some negative abusive remarks out of the hordes struggling for hours to get hold of change. They force feed adjectives only to be rejected .

“ Are you sure you are not inconvenienced? “ “ Do you think this could have been done better by preparing the ATM s well in advance “ “ Perhaps the PM could have arranged for the marriage season to get over “

But the anchors and the premier English TV channels are stumped with the population refusing to give into their clamour for decrying the establishment.

Why on earth would the PM call up fathers of to be brides and warn them of an impending action to vanquish Black money. One is assured that this is the right step when you see the major nasty opposition leaders getting into rough panic and thrashing around while drowning in a water less hole.

The Finance minister has one simple remedy to all the emotional blackmail. Please use digital and non cash forms of payment. And as for the rural population which is being bandied about as the worst hit by the opposition surely they are the least affected as far as bigger notes are concerned.

The political parties sense that this outcry will attract some attention only in the first few days as the the ATMs race to align with new dimensions and dispensations of notes. Once the masses return to their daily routine with sufficient avenues of currency the first round will have been convincingly won and a huge nail driven into the coffin of Black unaccounted money.

The naysayers jump up and decry the efficiency of the move by announcing that the bigger new currency will make up for the renewed collection of unaccounted money. IT will but people are going to be very cautious having burnt their fingers. Besides new schemes of digitizing every transaction will only make that even more difficult.

The most worrying part for the political parties that sought to stump the general rural population into passive submission is that this population will be wary and make a beeline for the banks to ensure that they never run into a similar situation again. The digitized banking can be addictive with its resounding convenience which the masses are yet to experience. With the language of currency reducing and cyber paths trickling with electronic cash, unethical practices are going to be all the more challenging. The naysayers who did their Rip Van Vinkle act for the last few decades, urgently have become conscientious keepers of the country making one worry what exactly they have got to lose or the type of people they are in bed with.

By taking a difficult and risky stance the PM and his ministers have done well to weather all the criticism and also the risk of a sabotage of the national peace by its own naysayers. The bankers rose to the occasion and like soldiers on the frontline they have become a symbol of an emerging new country where participation in national activities is not restricted to watching the national day parades on Independence and Republic day but also actually feel party to a new vibrant emerging economy and cultural identity.

And yes never have the small change of 50 and 100 looked so beautiful to behold and hold ever before. So what if the wallet bulges.

Somewhere in the western sector

Parvati looked at her husband as he trundled in weary from work. We have been taken over. We have a new President. Suresh jerked out of his semi-conscious state. Parvati seemed to be staring at the Television.

“What? “He said all of his now well oxygenated blood rushing to his frontal lobe. This was more than he could handle in one day.

“Look that Indian lady anchor with all those Americans. She just said we have a new president and was smiling from ear to ear “

“Oh that she is not talking about our president. That is that western country’s new president”

“No there is some mistake, why would she have 10 of those panel members from outside on our TV channel. Besides she just played a clip of the new man saying he loved ‘Hindooos’”

“So? “

“She even used the word Gob smacked “Parvati told him with a twinkle in her eye.

“How does her using gob smacked make her different from us? Why cannot she interview foreigners? Why can she not have her channel offices abroad even if it is on a day of bleaching in India?”

“Bleaching?” Parvati’s turn now to be shocked

“Yeah you know that black turning into white stuff “Suresh said flopping into the sofa

“It’s good we don’t have anything in this sofa else we could have had to tear it apart and rush with it to the banks. You know that is how god repays us honest people”

Parvati turned silent. Suresh looked up at the unexpected silence from his mate.

“What now? “

“You know that Bleaching thing? “

“Bleach? “

“You just said it yourself. Well I have a bit of that problem myself “

Suresh jerked back again his frontal lobes readying itself for the rush

“What do you mean? You don’t even earn”

“Well you know I earn of you right? Sometimes in small little ways “
Suresh stared “You mean a few thousands right. Like when you inflate the grocery bills“

“Maybe something like 400 thousands types”

Suresh held on to the honestly purchased in white money table lamp and steadied himself.

“How? How? Did you manage that from my meagre salary? How dare you save so much? Do you know we should not save so much that it runs into so much cash? You cannot create so much of black money”

Parvati stood perplexed “But why black. This is your hard earned money which became mine due to my hide work. And besides bhaisaab has said no problem for naari”

Suresh eyes popped “Now who Bhaisaab?”

Parvati “The PM. You so conveniently forgot the man who has put the fear of god in all men with unbleached money. He said housewives do not fear. Your money is your money”

Suresh sighed. He did some quick calculations. “You know that we will have some difficulty explaining that to the banks right?”

Parvati “No I spoke to bhaisaab and he said should not be a problem for salaried people “

“Bhaisaab – You spoke to the PM? “

“Arre baba no our banker bhaisaab. They have a holiday today and they will be working extra for next 

few days. So we can put in our money the day after”

“And listen one more good news …The builder called up and said he wants us to visit him tomorrow. He is reducing the cost of the flat”

Suresh jerked up for the third time in the day “Really?”

“Yes he said something like take all the cash back and give me only 50% of that in cheque but he needs us to pick it up tomorrow.

He murmured something like rent of the warehouse is going to be more than the value of the money.”

Suresh smacked his head and as he sat down he noticed two new bean bags.

“Where in the heavens did you get this?”

“Oh that you know Sahajik our neighbor bhaisaab from the government office. He came and said he was distributing all the furniture in his house because he wanted to be a hermit now. So he gifted us these two bean bags and also this 50000 in cash because he had not gifted me anything on Rakhi as his sister”

Suresh wanted to comment on the new found Brotherliness but attention panned to the bean bag.

Suresh rushed to the bean bag turned them upside down and tore open the knotted stitch. Portions of shiny currency paper peeked at him through the holes.

On the TV the finance minister was now speaking and indicating that law will take its own course for people without a trace of income.

( pic courtesy - ET)

Set me free

It is not the first time that I have stumbled upon a bird In a cage. Perhaps it had become part of a wholesale ambience that surrounds as and that which the combined system senses of visual info and analysis in our brains relegated to a secure background not to be acted upon

But last evening as I made my way through the thick greenery that envelopes most buildings in this city I came across this cage and a bird within .

I would have probably walked had I not noticed an almost melancholic look on its face as it seemed to stare into the yonder . It seemed to be lost in thought it's attention hypnotized by something in the horizon .

Well the horizon was not too far as I chased its vector of gaze and saw a clump of trees from where more fortunate free birds seemed to be making a racket and flying in and out. The cacophony of the chirping which could normally be lost in the noise of our thoughts took on a very disturbing new dimension of freedom or lack of it

The bird saw what its lost destiny in front of it through the cage. It knew there was a purpose to the wings that it possesses but that which had become probably atrophied from lack of usage . It knowledge of mobility and Use of appendages was lost . It had started to get used to the idea that perhaps the 180 degree turn that it took within the cage on its swinging rod was the extent of the movement granted by god to it . Till now perhaps .

The visual confuses the poor creature. Pecking gratefully at grains thrown by its owners it had assumed that it had been fortunate . But the green foliage seemed like a different world . It tried to move its now redundant wings and failed.

I had to move on leaving the avian to ponder over its existence now hijacked by its more powerful masters

I just wonder which law deems it ok to trap a a flying being in a prison with a spade volume of less than 15 liters, disallow usage of its basic and fundamental right as designed by nature. I always disliked zoos but I think a bigger crime is right in our homes where we trap living beings for our pleasure.

I saw myself cruelly hoping the bird died and released itself of this human torture rather than die slowly everyday staring at its luckier flying companions . If anyone owns please do rethink about the practice and let them go .

( The picture attached is purely representative )

Pan Bonds Spring

A little touristic Knick knack resembling the Golden eye duck stared with inanimate intensity from the dark furnished teak table top it rested on. The pages of The world is not Enough by Raymond Benson flapped happily whenever the rotating table fan swished air in its direction. A rotund metal container in not so classy blue printing stood proudly as three pairs of eyes peered at it.

PB looked up at his manager and the visitor who stood reverently with folded hands, his thick lips pursed in a semi maniacal smile.

“Mamma Mia’, he said.’ You really mean it. This is a killer product “

Tim blinked hard stuttering  

“ That appears to be true sir, he believes very strongly in it” Pointing to the still permanently smiling gentleman thick fingered hand still folded.

“Apparently the product is appreciated Pan country across all segments. Apparently very sustainable” Tim continued.

PB looked up. An assignment had come his way after a long time and he was itching to hold a gun again.

 “Tell me more”

Tim looked back at the visitor seeking support.

The visitor gave a Dracula grin and said “Sir you can paint the town red sir". Very divine smelling product sir. Lots of flavor sir. Changes the color of the teeth”

PB smiled “I get it. You guys from that part of the world are extremely smart in natural products. So it should be a breath freshener - teeth whitener you are talking about right? “

“Sir very colorful product sir. We have been painting the country for a long, long time now. Our presence is felt and is visible in every corner of the land, building, road, alleys, theatres you name it”

“Haah Yes you folks are really colorful I know I know” PB smiles knowledgeably

“So sir Pukka samjhu “

PB blinks at Tim with eyebrows raised “What does that mean?”

Tim thinks, looks back at the expectant face of the visitor who indeed looks very different from the more industrialist types he had met before. But the promise of millions was hard to ignore. Easy money to hold a can the way a gun was held was enough to hijack his curiosity.

“Sir I think he wants confirmation”

PB pauses “But why me?”  He asks stroking his beard

The visitor perks up

“Sir who better than you to tell people to die another day”

“Sorry??” PB is startled

“Sir I meant that the world has not had enough of our product. Tomorrow never dies. Have more today. And sir if you can say that holding it close to your chest the way you do with your gun and smile through your impressive closed lips”

“Uh Ok But it is a teeth whitener right, so how can one do it through closed lips?”

“Sir don’t you worry about that. It will look like you have just had some to chew, you are impressed with the fresh breath, the divine smell spreads around and you kill every one with the tin… err I mean you kill with your looks…er I mean you kill the competition with your looks “

“Hmmm You know I am an ardent supporter of health campaigns especially cancer. Hope all that is taken care of?”

“Yes sir, absolutely yes sir, We have been contributing to increase the masses in that cause for decades now. Even the ruling class with their whites are big buyers of our products. You will be happy sir. Your fan following will amplify like Nobody’s business “

PB looks at Tim. Tim Nods. The deal is struck

The visitor leaves.

PB looks up at Tim.

“I think we struck Gold here. That is one NiceTin. I look forward to holding it to my heart. Been ages since I did that. I hope that country chews on that a lot and welcomes my contribution to their whitening and freshening era”

Tim nods “Time will tell sir “

Puja, Pandal and Bhog

The sound of bamboos tumbling out of a truck's back inevitably had us springing out of bed. The uniformly sized sticks crashing happily together on the ground like a bunch of friends rollicking in the dust and bouncing up and down on each other before settling down and allowing the next batch to land next to them. Living right next to the open air auditorium, we rushed to a safe distance to watch the half open truck unloading its very serious ware. The pandal makers stood nearby sizing up the package received and indicating that they had received one bunch less. These besides the excited loudspeakers were the first important signs that week long Durga Puja celebrations could soon take over the neighbourhood.

The entire programme managed by the Durga Puja Sarbojanin samiti was always an exercise in excellent project management. I can safely say that I have never seen more unified efforts than by a group of people( employees of HAL where my father worked) from the Bengali community. Their visit to our homes a month before the actual festivities even before the bamboos struck ground usually heralded the oncoming festival season. They usually came in groups of four and being acquainted with father they usually began the banter with a “ Aur Ranganath Saab, tho kitna tickets “ and some light jokes and denied cups of tea later they moved onto jovially to the next house in the colony. Have never seen a more apolitical set of friends gathering public approval with so much ease.

Back to the bamboos then , which were followed by blue plastic tarpaulins and the bundles of jute. The workers usually arrived overnight and by the next morning an impressive structure networking a roof holding the blue tarpaulin spawning hundreds of meters appeared. In one important corner god began to take shape. Specially invited artists from Kolkata worked with delicate hands to put to life goddess Durga from her invisible omnipresence. We never tired of watching them through the night because it also gave us a legitimate reason to stay awake and outside our homes.

And not to mention the lovely mattresses which became our acrobatic ground. Jumping up and tumbling down, performing head over heels gymnastics with the friendly mattress cushioning our impact before the good natured uncles gently chased us away.

The celebrations were usually culminated daily with number of shows ranging from Sachin Shankar-Mamta Shankar with their outstanding dance shows to lovely Marathi dramas, a much awaited Orchestra either by Babla Orchestra ( Kalyanji anandji's younger brother) or late Manna De. We had the opportunity to watch Kavita Krishnamurthy, Sudesh Bhosle, Late Gopi Krishna, Hema Malini and even Johnny Lever.

Bengalis besides being extremely jovial and chatty are also amongst the most sweet people. No wonder then I have a host of close friends from amongst them and understand Bengali fairly well. It helps that my name also helps people mistake me to be one.

Having Bengali friends also meant that one got to partake of the best part of Durga puja, the Bhog. The special Khichdi which is made during the day at the pandal when beautifully dressed women in their rich red sarees, hands and legs hennaed a beautiful and the men in their light brown cotton collarless kurtas ( only from Kolkata with their flowery embroidery around the neck) came together in jolly celebration. I always had a standing invite.

Today as the festival progresses in India, I recalled the bhog and called up my friends Somnath and Jayathi to get a detailed recipe of the Bhog khichadi. Strong visual memories came rushing back and I had to make this East Indian version of the Pongol with a rollicking mix of Mung Bean and Rice frolicking around with roasted spices ranging from clove to star anise to cinnamon.

The result was good but still something was missing. I think it was the vibrant positive air at mass gatherings of happy humans that makes the cooking even more smack worthy. Well for now this should be a good second to anchor down the beautiful memories before they disappeared

Happy Durga Puja friends !

Air conditioned welcome - Claustrophobic Exit

Have you people ever noticed that when we go to a movie we enter through a glamorous entry door
with the most fanciful decor that the multiplex can afford and blasting air conditioners requiring you to reach out for your cardigans ushered in by the most polite staff this side of the exit door

Fast forward to the end of the movie and post the mandatory credits song number you look out for the smiling usher and face a stern cleaning personnel who glares at your popcorn burping face . You hurriedly deposit your carton and plastic cup into the yawning plastic bag and then look towards the shady hidden exit door next to the screen as she now stands blocking the door you came in by.

Yes sir . You cannot go out as you came in . You stumble out into a claustrophobic windowless unpainted tunnel that reeks of two decades old trapped air and seems to keep opening through mysterious dirty doors into even more darker dirtier pathways till you hit the final door

You either land straight out in the garbage laden footpath behind the multiplex or thrown out straight into a road away from the mall and the multiplex

I wonder at the marketing strategy of the mall and multiplex folks. Do they perhaps conclude that these margarine or caramel burping folks have hit rock bottom on their liquidity and there is no lurking customer within so no point in pampering him or her with a plush exit . Or perhaps they are ashamed of us . " How could you even watch this movie ? Sneak away please . We are ashamed of you !"

Of course I spend my silent tread back through the dirty corridor listening to the hushed critique of the patrons and wonder what was so " dhaasu" or "sahee" about the movie.

The most telling comment I have always heard is " This is a Dvd movie . No point in wasting time here "

I wonder if it meant we can waste time watching the movie anyway but no point wasting time walking through the dirty exits

Sorry Sindhu you lost the gold because of Me !

Sorry PV Sindhu. You lost because of me! I know I am as shocked as you are. But believe me I have convinced myself that you lost the gold because of me. So it started like this.

Post a hard day’s work I reached my home and proceeded to unlace my shoes outside the door. There was the faint sound of TV with those clucking shuttle sounds coming through the lizard gap at the bottom. Lizard gap ..What’s that you ask ? Let me not digress because that is another big story. So I push open the door with the friendly auto lock and I find an apparition. Well not an apparition really. But for want of a better word on finding my stunned wife staring wide eyed at the TV set. I looked at the vision on the Television and found you Sindhu playing with a slightly grim expression on your face. The score was around 15-10 I think.

My wife turned and glared at me with Hindi Soap opera eyes – ( what is soap opera eye ..you ask ? Well that is another story ) -

“ Why did you come ?”

I managed a “ Uh ! “ because she is thrilled whenever I come home late and I thought my involuntary attempts to come home earlier than usual could work in my favor.

“ Do you know what you have done ? “ She growled

“ No” I said meekly

“ She was one game ahead and now she is down and trailing “

“But ‘, I protested , ‘ she is trailing NOW .. so she must have been doing weakly since sometime ?” I asked probing possible exclusion from being insinuated with more serious charges.

“ No “ she said and stomped off to the kitchen.

I looked back at the screen marveling at the extremely competitive game in progress. Marin’s forehand was strong I told myself flinching that it could be the undoing for my compatriot . She kept slipping while my wife reappeared with hot scalding tea in a cup in her hands. She looked at the screen and glared accusingly.

“ Look what you have done!! She has lost her confidence now ever since you have come“ I stared back at the TV screen stupefied not sure of my till now, unknown super powers, currently not acting in a beneficial way for sure.

“ Look Mrs. There seems to be some mistake you are blaming me for the game for no valid reason . You cannot be doing this “ I looked hoping to find some look of possible relief abdication in blame.

But no luck. You PV Sindhu lost another point and that was that. The remote was seized from the table . The TV switched off. I walked off not too sure. I wondered when my wife had had morphed from a quiet invisible individual who mouths seventy words per week without emotion to a fiery and superstitious patriot. After a while I made the mistake I came back and switched the TV back on and you were doing well at 14 -10 . Well not too bad. And then 16 -12. Oh oh this was getting bad. I told myself . My wife wanted nothing but gold. And I had to work really hard. I tried focusing for you. But Marin was good. Soon it was over and we were delighted with the silver you won. Or so I thought when I heard a shriek behind me.

“ You switched it on again ? . Don’t you realize your being inside with the TV off was helping her gain ground . She was 10-10 and she won the first game reversing her bad game. You’re not being in the house helped a lot. The least you could have done for your country is to have stayed back at office till this match was over !!! “ Eyes fiery red looked at accusingly at me.

I shriveled. Horrified at how I had let my nation down.

“ But she won the silver for us . The first silver? “ I offered meekly as a consolation. But my wife could have none of it.

“ Just stop. You let the gold slip away. Poor girl had put her heart and soul into it” My wife stomped to the kitchen and returned with my food plate in her hands.

“ Now have your dinner” I looked at the TV set.

The TV anchor was announcing that you PV Sindhu had settled for silver. Settled ? Settled ? I mean like you fought for it. Why settled? I looked back at my dinner. Two Indian breads sabotaged to their sunny side in dark brown up stared back at me. Well the cook was angry for sure. I too settled to my dinner. The only silver lining in my day I guess.

But Sindhu O Sindhu. Congratulations You have done the nation proud ! Next time I promise to keep the TV switched off or stay back at the office .

Jai Hind !

Sorry Sindhu you lost the gold because of Me !

Sorry PV Sindhu. You lost because of me! I know I am as shocked as you are. But believe me I have convinced myself that you lost the gold because of me. So it started like this.

Post a hard day’s work I reached my home and proceeded to unlace my shoes outside the door. There was the faint sound of TV with those clucking shuttle sounds coming through the lizard gap at the bottom. Lizard gap ..What’s that you ask ? Let me not digress because that is another big story. So I push open the door with the friendly auto lock and I find an apparition. Well not an apparition really. But for want of a better word on finding my stunned wife staring wide eyed at the TV set. I looked at the vision on the Television and found you Sindhu playing with a slightly grim expression on your face. The score was around 15-10 I think.

My wife turned and glared at me with Hindi Soap opera eyes – ( what is soap opera eye ..you ask ? Well that is another story ) -

“ Why did you come ?”

I managed a “ Uh ! “ because she is thrilled whenever I come home late and I thought my involuntary attempts to come home earlier than usual could work in my favor.

“ Do you know what you have done ? “ She growled

“ No” I said meekly

“ She was one game ahead and now she is down and trailing “

“But ‘, I protested , ‘ she is trailing NOW .. so she must have been doing weakly since sometime ?” I asked probing possible exclusion from being insinuated with more serious charges.

“ No “ she said and stomped off to the kitchen.

I looked back at the screen marveling at the extremely competitive game in progress. Marin’s forehand was strong I told myself flinching that it could be the undoing for my compatriot . She kept slipping while my wife reappeared with hot scalding tea in a cup in her hands. She looked at the screen and glared accusingly.

“ Look what you have done!! She has lost her confidence now ever since you have come“ I stared back at the TV screen stupefied not sure of my till now, unknown super powers, currently not acting in a beneficial way for sure.

“ Look Mrs. There seems to be some mistake you are blaming me for the game for no valid reason . You cannot be doing this “ I looked hoping to find some look of possible relief abdication in blame.

But no luck. You PV Sindhu lost another point and that was that. The remote was seized from the table . The TV switched off. I walked off not too sure. I wondered when my wife had had morphed from a quiet invisible individual who mouths seventy words per week without emotion to a fiery and superstitious patriot. After a while I made the mistake I came back and switched the TV back on and you were doing well at 14 -10 . Well not too bad. And then 16 -12. Oh oh this was getting bad. I told myself . My wife wanted nothing but gold. And I had to work really hard. I tried focusing for you. But Marin was good. Soon it was over and we were delighted with the silver you won. Or so I thought when I heard a shriek behind me.

“ You switched it on again ? . Don’t you realize your being inside with the TV off was helping her gain ground . She was 10-10 and she won the first game reversing her bad game. You’re not being in the house helped a lot. The least you could have done for your country is to have stayed back at office till this match was over !!! “ Eyes fiery red looked at accusingly at me.

I shriveled. Horrified at how I had let my nation down.

“ But she won the silver for us . The first silver? “ I offered meekly as a consolation. But my wife could have none of it.

“ Just stop. You let the gold slip away. Poor girl had put her heart and soul into it” My wife stomped to the kitchen and returned with my food plate in her hands.

“ Now have your dinner” I looked at the TV set.

The TV anchor was announcing that you PV Sindhu had settled for silver. Settled ? Settled ? I mean like you fought for it. Why settled? I looked back at my dinner. Two Indian breads sabotaged to their sunny side in dark brown up stared back at me. Well the cook was angry for sure. I too settled to my dinner. The only silver lining in my day I guess.

But Sindhu O Sindhu. Congratulations You have done the nation proud ! Next time I promise to keep the TV switched off or stay back at the office .

Jai Hind !