The burden of answerability

The burden of answerability Decades back. A tired Saturday Evening. Pleasures of a Saturday morning included, being allowed to sleep late, provided the home work was completed proactively. Extended sport sessions in the basketball ground bang opposite home and then a tiring session of cricket till we were no longer able to visualise the rubber ball hurtling at reasonable speeds and either knocking off cheap plastic framed spectacles or hurting you in the wrong places. We then headed home reluctantly trying to stretch the time available.

Mother then announces that Sharma Uncle and family are hopping over. Now usually the prospect of a family friend with two kids coming over for a casual weekend chat should be an inviting proposition. But we readied ourselves for some nerve wracking competitive conversation which would eventually leave us in miserable knots of inferiority complex.

After very polite Namaste’s usually supported by Japanese style physical gestures of utter humility - bending to the guests with folded hands, hoping fervently that the guests hearts could melt and they could be less probing than usual. The family trooped in with Uncle Sharma leading the pack followed by the kind Aunty and their kids almost hidden behind their soda lens spectacles. They all settled down for on the only sofa that we had covered with a beautiful throw to carefully hide the stitches of the rexin cover that was giving way. It was a standard practice for the children to ensure that the guests were served with water in clean glasses wiped dry from the outside on trays. Serious efforts to avoid eye contact with Uncle Sharma always failed. And then the ordeal could begin.

“So beta? Kaise chal rahi hain padhai” ( Son , how are your studies progressing “)

I would shrink. Hoping against hope that my parents missed that one. Not on a Saturday night please. Now my parents were not the quintessential snorting about studies all the time,types. Nor the type of parents who wanted their kids to be holding important looking books every time they entered home or room. But yet they were curious about my response. The comparison was yet to start. Uncle Sharma does not wait for the answer. He knows from my pathetic face it is not going well. So he decides to patronize himself.

“Well Aditya did not do well this time” He looks disparagingly at his elder son who stares back with an equally admonished look. My heart lightens. Perhaps I am not so bad after all. However the next sentence undoes that feeling in a hurry

“ He just managed 98.2 % this time “ . “ And you ?” Uncle Sharma challenges me almost sure that no one can come close to his champion son. But he wants public endorsement. And especially from parents of academically challenged children perhaps. My parents look at me nonplussed. Waiting for my answer. They are not too sure about it either. What was it that their son had mentioned as his result. They remember he said something like 75% of the children in the class got lower than him. But how much did he actually get ? They must have been kicking themselves for not asking me earlier. Wait till this Sharma goes home, my father must have thought at that time before I get down to the interrogation. This guy had given us all the environmental parameters with apt discussion but failed to mention his own marks.

My percentages or rather my lowly life is saved in the nick of time by neighbouring Babloo and his mother who saunter in just in time. Why? Well (twinkle twinkle) he has scored 98.7% and now the war is between these two while I retreat wisely to do my homework. Years later when I got to work there was another round of ducking to do. It was which Aunty’s daughter or son had got the highest starting salary.

“Mera beta tho ….or mere beti tho…itni kamaata/i hain “ ( my ward earns this pay packet blah blah )

I could see preening mothers proudly boasting to my mother challenging her to bid a better figure for her son. Again my parents had forgotten to ask me my starting salary. So how much ? My mother’s raised eyebrows seemed to say hoping against hope that her son was close to being a TATA on the sly. I frowned not at all interested in becoming a commodity on the auction market. Besides I just could not beat their inflated figures by a long mile.

My mother flipped it on its head “ we don’t ask our son such personal questions . It’s his life “

Sigh of relief. This burden of answerability chases you through life. It just crops up in different forms.

At work it is related to designations, salaries, mentions etc. But the most intriguing and repetitive is the one on the social front. What did you for the weekend or where did you go for the holidays. The children want to know if we are really planning to go to Maldives for the weekend. Or to Madrid for a film festival. Their friends had done that.

“Papa you are not even taking us to Les Miserables “

Ok so one by one. I choke on Maldives on the weekend. Maldives is one thing but on a weekend. A lifelong ambition cannot be condensed into a weekend plan by donating 60 % of my monthly salary. ( Wait don’t go around fishing out calculators and air fare websites. That was just an even number I threw !) . Next I am not the event manager for film festivals that I chase the film stars and go to a film festival. I nod to the children

“Check the parents of your friends will you?. I am sure Their father is probably a mechanic with the stage arrangement and must be hitching a free ride to Madrid”.

I knew I was being nasty but then it this burden of answerability was killing. Like who actually chases film actors who themselves desperately seek freebies everywhere. And last but not the least going to Les Miserables. Well Victor Hugo never envisioned his 1862 work to be a musical that will romp around the world making moolah.

“Why don’t you read it?” That was enough to deter them for the moment. And if it did not work I knew what had to be done to move the chain of burden of answerability. I had to find an Uncle Sharma in the neighborhood with children who scored in their 90’s and could be a good foil to the challenges I faced at home. And in the meantime I look up the events page of the local newspaper to rack up events that I could imagine having attended to on the weekend and to be able to speak about with a causal air reflecting carefree expendability of excessive wealth , to all those who had managed heavily competitive events on the weekend.

And my pen dived to to the paper as I encircled my first heavy duty page 3 event. Aah the burden of answerability!!

Sultan -Sober Salman Startles

Disoriented flailing of arms, some funny squeaky dialogues, and wide eyed stares juxtaposed with some catchy rhythms in soothing Rahat Fateh’s voice is reflective of Salman’s work till date. Watching his movies is an adventure that I usually approach if at all, with a lot of trepidation. I know they makes millions and his fans swear by his Dabangs, but sitting through script less lukewarm fares is not my kettle of tea. However sometime back we had a pleasant encounter in Bajrangi Bhaijaan. The second cup of tea that I dislike is physical sports which require people to bash each other up and ascertaining that there are enough bones crunched that may take a lifetime to repair. People safely behind the wire mesh cheer the blood spilling. Is this not as bad as putting poultry, dogs and other assorted animals to fight each other and something that is frowned upon, but then that is a different discussion.

Sultan alters that opinion in an entertaining manner in the trend set by Million Dollar Baby, Rocky and more closer home in the recent Mary Kom. Home grown movies in India also have the added splice of emotional encounters that can nicely fill in the awkward story jerks in Hollywood movies. But yet stretching it to 2hours 50 min was a risk. Indian films need to learn to shape scripts with sharp brevity and make them memorable movies. And people are running out of time. You see they have other tasks and responsibilities to complete. Like this young girl two seats away from me who did not switch off her mobile for the entire length of the movie. I wondered if she was taking serious study notes or perhaps tweeting the movie line by line. But one thing was certain. It irritated me no end. Like having a smart phone screen beam at you with its full fluorescence. I wanted to reach out and ask if there was some way for me to help perhaps do a bulk tweet from my phone too, to reduce the responsibility and load.

And yet as a sober Sultan (Salman) entered the screen play his new underplayed character starts growing on you though you do live with the fear of his jumping into his antics soon.( he does that very briefly in a song) He is a saddened recluse of a wrestler, retired to a quiet life in the irrigation department due to a tiff with his wife Aarfa (Anushka) the reasons for which become clear as the story plods to the intermission. Surprisingly you find little to fault in the storyline as it peacefully unfolds moving from the resilient wooing by Sultan of Aarfa and admonished for being a good for nothing spurs him into putting his and his well-built body to good use. The spate of medals that follows gets to his simpleton head resulting in an incident which paves the way for separation. So does a commercial boxing event organizer (something like an IPL event) manage to get an out of shape Sultan achieve his glory?

The movie is flinchingly predictable and yet manages to keep your attention thanks chiefly to the cast which embodies sincerity into their roles. Chief among them Salman and Anushka. Salman gets into the SRK Chakde mode of brooding and brings out a nicely underplayed controlled performance. The serious work on his body is visible as it fluctuates in size and shape to punctuate the timelines with his fame and falter. There is applause worthy scene where a downhill Sultan gets into a dressing room and has a tragic soliloquy with his emotions. Watch the unedited scene as he frustratingly struggles into a shirt while sobbing away heartbreakingly. That scene moves and proves that the till now man-errant perhaps has something deep down there to be discovered. Anushka deserves accolades for her characteristic support to the main protagonist though and presents a fuller answer to the need for fuller woman oriented films, however we see less of her in the latter part of the film. There are other multiple characters all around the script that do unfailing justice to their roles. You cannot ignore a fantastic Randeep Hooda and decent portrayals by Amit Sadh and Anant Sharma as the trainer, entrepreneur and friend respectively The photography is serviceable, the stunts obviously do look over the top but reflect the efforts taken. (Not surprising the main protagonist was pushed to make a politically incorrect metaphor). There was some controversy with the numbers but think that Rahat was a refreshing change and apt choice for the song Jag Ghoomeya. Wonder what prompted a serious movie to dip into an obscene and very badly contrived prompt for a song like Baby ko bass pasand hain..ugh ! Salman almost forgets his character and starts flailing his arms again before being edited out J. Shekhar Ravjiani do a decent job otherwise.

It is not a great film but one that deserves a round of applause for helping Salman to discover potential and the audiences to move Hindi cinema to a more appreciable art than just an assembly line of junk scripts intermixed with some rare gems. It requires some patience but takes care to keep you rooted.

When politics sounds good for a change !

Was not surprised to see hard nosed critics melting. It is difficult not to be able to believe that he is working. He has gone beyond the threshold of having to work to convince his opponents. He is truly there. In the nirvana of true politics. Where politics is not inclusive of conniving and scheming tactics. Where politics actually means governance.

Where his ego does not restrict him to still seek a cuppa of tea with his detractors. He feels no compulsion to bad mouth our neighbours to make some quick brownie points. He is clear in his support for the civilian government and the need to be cautious of other 'actors'. He smiles away accolades of his appreciated speech in the US Congress. He talks of a unified world. He almost reminds of being a man heading towards achieving enlightenment in politics.

He understands the maturity of voters who maturely vote for who they as their separate benefactors for the state and the country. He warns and chides wilful defaulters that he is losing his patience with people who do not pay taxes. He needs the money to save the poor. He appreciates states governance irrespective of affiliation.

A level of maturity in a statesman or a politician last seen during the freedom struggle we think. You cannot get more genuine than this. Hear him out if you have the patience to worry about a country that we as countrymen owe responsibility to, in equal measure.

Arnab proves that he usually pretends to be a noisy irksome journalist as he engraves the PM in soft glory that he so rightfully deserves.

A man heading steadily towards the Nobel peace Prize !

The Indian PMs interview with Arnab - Times NOW

Yawnliens

Just staggered out. I mean like it is difficult to walk steady immediately after sleeping through lot of light and sound . Disturbing sleep. Luckily had the jacket on. So did not feel the intense cold.

You understand it happens when you experience wholesale bunkum. Figure challenged aliens who take two decades to figure out they were annoyed with the president of their favorite western nation and decide to revisit again with their entire clumsy selves and 2mn tons of garbage aluminium with cheap LEDs pretending to be sophisticated technology .

The various states of heads are annoyed in varying degrees except for the heads of the most powerful nation in the world of course who take it upon themselves to pilot smaller aluminium junkyards and save the world .

Meanwhile the Boy Scout club with their favorite girlfriends from diverse countries play video games in greenish blue light

Finally the clumsy alien has to collapse in a heap more due to sheer boredom than the pixelated lights and frenzied background music .

I caught all of this in between 10000 winks of sleep and 752 morsels of pop corn. It was too salty though but I did count .

I think it's time for an alienexit! Yawn !

"I am a poor man Sir " The TV stories

A young man is in the limelight on the stage. Dramatic performance and exhibition of talent. The music reaches a crescendo and he finishes the act with a finesse. The judges stand up applauding.

One of the judges makes the usual effusive comments of praise. The participant is assured of greater success ahead. And then comes the bolt from the blue .

" What does your family do? "

The participant's expression suddenly alters. The music orchestra which has been recently chided for not giving their money's worth picks the cue and goes into a horrifying version of Tchaikovsky sad symphony and the participant wrinkles up his face to emote.

" We are from a very poor family, Sir"

The judge is intrigued and is baying for the kill

Judge : " Really how poor? "

" Very poor sir / madam . I am their only hope"

Judge : " Oh do you get food to eat, do you walk like 20 kms to draw water from the well ? do you ..blah blah ...( thinking up of all the drudgery that he thinks makes up for a poor mans life)

In the background the director of the show is chewing up his nails. He wants those tears . Come on you punks ..Cry. The participant accedes and bawls

'Pan pan' ...the director screams at the editor and the cameramen. 'Take tight very very tight closeups. I want a bloody high resolution pics of those tear drops. The TRP has to go through the roof'

An Assistant director creeps upto the director " Sir the judge is sobbing too"

" What ? " the director gasps " You paid her extra too . we don't have those budgets ! "

Asst Director " No sir they seem to be genuine...but he may ask for the dough later "

Back on the stage the participant is describing his degrees of gareebi / poverty picking up as much footage the director thinks is required for the Sobs to up the TRP.

The judge is sobbing " Gosh...You are really damn poor. Go on young man . I am sure you will rise in this competition and make us all cry even...er sorry ....happy even more. I can see you in the finals already "

The TV viewers too are all watching eyes misty.

Show over ! everyone dabs their eyes and go back to their Ipads.

Seriously how much poverty is there in the world. Had it not been for these reality shows. Never would have known.

Wild and Beautiful - Sairat

With a crinkled lopsided smile the girl stylishly swings her shades into place while the shy boy struggles to confirm her attention and affectations for him.  The boy is egged on by his adorable friends to express his feelings but is taken aback when the girl actually responds more aggressively to the point of being wooed more strongly  in an amusing case of role reversal the type, you rarely see in Indian cinema. This is more than a welcome start to a movie that grips you by its creative tentacles and does not let you go till the stunning end.

A love story,it is set in the weird residue of caste politics that still seems to afflict our country in some parts. We have seen it before when two lovers from different castes fall in love and have to face the harsh rebuttal from some sections of society but Nagraj Manjule of Fandry fame seizes you and takes you on a breathless ride into a harsh world of politics, casteism and love where they cannot co-exist. The story slaps you into reality to believe that the 21^st century India still has its share of problems and yet there is hope when a girl with gusto grabs the reins and propels her future with her lover herself in a wild manner. In a ‘sairat’ manner so to say.

It is best to just circle around the summary of the story and not spoil it for those who are yet to see it because it is an experience in itself. A wild girl who defies the norms of her society and rebels against everything that is wrong with it as it refuses to let love bloom without boundaries.

Each and every character is a find in this movie and it would be wrong to single out any particular actor. But yet you can barely take your eyes of Rinku Rajguru a girl so much an antithesis of what a heroine should be. She has absorbed the role of the Archana the daughter of the local legislator (Suresh Vishwakarma) so strongly that it is difficult to tell the two apart. She graduates from a girl to a mother seamlessly. A flick of her eyebrow, smiling with her eyes, swinging her braided hair around strengthening the image of a beautiful girl but with a mind all of her own, as it should be in society today.

Akash as Prashant a boy  belonging to a different caste who falls in love with her has a more subdued role but very important role as it has to complement the aggressiveness of Archana without ever deflating his own importance. He treads the line beautifully.

Tanaji and Arbaz as the friends are so believable. Chaya Kadam as the lady in Hyderabad who comes across the couple tends to go overboard a bit but has an applause worthy entry which reminded me of Sunny Deol in Damini

There are just four songs by Ajay Atul but very good on the ears. The songs reminded me of the grand orchestration style used by some other music directors like Rahman and Illayaraja.

The photography by Sudhakar Reddy especially in songs ‘ Yad lagla’ is simply outstanding.  “Attach Baya” and Sairat Jhala Ji by Shreya Ghoshal are bound to be big hits . The crowd pleaser is of course an ecstatic Zingaat .

This is one of those movies that will affect you positively and negatively long after you have watched it. Watch out for simple and effective scenes where the directors expertise in making ordinary scenes compelling, like the granny who chases her ward out right in the middle of a match, Archana cooly riding various vehicles without too many slow mos to underline the achievement, simple sidekicks who never overplay their roles and even the director himself who appears as a weak willed teacher. Clever writing and witty dialogues envelop the entire script

This will shake the foundations of Hindi film industry as they will wake up to the reality that movies with simple and effective stories can be money spinners without senseless item numbers and loud sets and garish scenes. This belongs to the Anurag Kashyap brand of film making and many more are welcome.

Look forward to what Nagraj does next and how each of the actors fare out in their future ventures. Absolutely unmissable venture as an entertaining piece as well as something making a very important statement on society today

Interesting FAN and the Boring star

‘We paid you enough’ berates an obviously stinking rich entrepreneur at the star as he mumbles apologies with just the faint hint of angry pride and proceeds to perform at the wedding. Some more scenes like this could have helped define realistically the star that SRK plays in the movie, ostensibly himself. You cannot miss the Launchpad notification for his son Aryan Khan coming soon. The star SRK who emerges on his balcony to wave to frenzied crowds misses a seriously star struck look alike in the mob below. The FAN has come all the way from Delhi prodded gently by his equally star struck parents doing their bit to support the fanatic fan who incidentally also looks like his idol. This FAN character also again played by the star himself is one of the better etched characters in recent times.

Every star has fans and their presence and numbers define the strength of a star as is often reflected in the fan clubs and  FB pages run by the fans and silently supported by the stars themselves. It is the danger when these fans cross from their real lives into a surreal arena of  blurred familiarity with the star that trouble erupts. The FAN is annoyed at being ignored failing to understand how the star can just not notice his Sohan ka halwa and his years of devotion.  Failing to attract his attention the fan then launches into a neurotic response first by attacking those who he believes harms the star and then the star himself after he is led behind the bars for his action.

The story is actually quite engrossing till this point and then suddenly the YRF banners remembers its old movies with a frenzied Darr type action and the hero decides that no law keeping force will solve his problems and he needs to exhibit his rough street side of Delhi nature as he describes it to protect himself and his family.  The plot is lost by then and SRK who had the role of his lifetime etched out in the FAN suddenly remembers his love for Tom Cruise type of Mission Impossible actions riding speeding motor bikes and swinging across Bond Like across roofs. The concept goes completely implausible from here on.

It is only the FAN character etched out obviously when the team’s creativity was at its peak that stands out authentically defined and enacted. The makeup is almost flawless and so is the gait.  The director does not bother to dwell too much into the surrounding human atmosphere of the star and everything seems disconnected and unrealistic. The Fans character is so good that his parents include the fine Yogendra Tiku pale in comparison. Even the Star SRK seems unsure of how he really wants to be perceived as a star and while there are some chuckling self-deprecatory moments, they are just not enough. His family which could have been the strongest point to underline his fierce protective nature, is played by forgettable characters.  Shriya Pilgaokar playing the fans love interest makes a silent mark. Rest of the characters are completely flat . The movie is incredibly boring and stretched in the second half.

On a whole the film has you rooting for SRK the actor willing him to succeed in his new hard effort to be different and get angered at the lapses into Hollywood type of an action movie without any logic. The film is a missed chance at what could have been a landmark movie for SRK. You return home thinking about the FAN though.