Thupakki – give me a break!

You do not go into a Vijay movie expecting a complex plotline and some intense performances – You go for eight songs (two shot in Switzerland), four fights and anti-climax/climax scenes. Thupakki, while of course entertaining, takes clichés to another level altogether.

First twenty minutes – the hero’s ‘better than gold’ image is re-iterated. He works for the Army, and in case you did not get that, he comes home in his uniform, even when he is on a vacation. Despite being in the Army and getting brain-fried every single day, he gathers enough energy to do a hero-introduction number (in a banian) and cheer fellow Army men. Then, he meets a girl in a traditional ‘ponnu-pakkal’ ceremony , but decides that their ‘tastes’ do not match, within five seconds of seeing her.

But, of course there comes a completely unexpected twist – he meets her again!! How the hell do people run into the same people over and over again? I have run into exactly ten people in my entire life. After some facepalm jokes and the girl re-establishing her pristine, virginal image, he falls for her. Mumbai girl in shorts, who has never kissed/touched another man, never smoked, and has had just one sip of ‘vodka’ -  totally convinced.

Then, there is a muslim terrorist, one sidekick policeman who is a goof-up, and loving family who does not know that Vijay is not just an Army man but also a secret intelligence agent – oh holy mother of all surprises. Terrorists in this movie do not believe in codes. They message like friends. ‘Activate Plan B’ ’when are the guns coming’ ‘all ok with blasts?’ and just so that we understand that they are using private numbers , each time the head terrorist (who btw is really hot) calls his juniors, ‘Non-trackable number’ flashes on the cellphone screens.

Terrorists are more subtle, have excellent deduction powers and have better plans in the movie. Vijay and his group of minions on the other hand, wear suits, stand in the middle of crowded areas, point and loudly say to each other ‘shoot him’ ‘follow him’. Totally discreet secret agents. The climax is another 20 long minutes of facepalmery.

Hot terrorist asks for last wish before killing Vijay, and the hero demands that he be beaten to death. An ego-filled terrorist then removes Vijay’s handcuffs and beats him black and blue. Then, when you are getting ready to cry your eyes out and leave the theatre thinking this is the end of world – a completely out-of-world twist comes. Vijay self-repairs his body. His face, going through several mini-orgasms, erm spasms, helps the rest of the body repair broken bones automatically. Then, of course hero saves the world from terrorist attacks. End of story.

Oh, hell no! What’s a climax without melodrama? All Army men leave together, back to Kashmir.  People are seen crying, newly-wed Army men hugging wives, newborn babies tugging at their daddy’s shirts for one last time, and more such gut-wrenching scenes. At this point, my friend said ‘Are they going to Hogwarts? Same train they come in, same train they go back in?’

I rest my case.

A b'lore night

Bangalore is beautiful at night. Minus the noise, minus the chaos, minus the confusion – Bangalore is beautiful at night. As my work cab trudges along seamlessly along the smooth roads, there are so many sights and sounds to behold. The man with his midnight-foodstall hoping for one last customer before he can shut shop, men and women who come out of their office for a  smoke-break, a lone couple holding hands, and the doggies on the street gearing up for gang wars.

Flickering street lamps, orange traffic lights, cruising cars that make the most use of empty roads, near-empty bus stands, twinkling temple bulbs, a lone Bollywood number playing on a TV set somewhere,  a pressure cooker whistle, and a howling dog.

Massive trucks that honk endlessly,  a sad ambulance without its siren,  a man taking his dog for a walk, pungent smell of garbage, a hotel kitchen prepping for the morning, scavenging birds,  a lone cow, and distant laughter.

There is hope for a better tomorrow. There is joy in the night that is ending. There is peace on the quiet roads. It makes you feel all alone. And somehow, it is not too bad. Bangalore is beautiful at night. 

Do not speak the truth

I was reminded of these lines that I learnt in my sixth standard Sanskrit lessons a few days ago:

satyam brūyat_priyam brūyan_na brūyāt_satyam_apriyam ।

priyam cha nānṛitam brūyādéṣha dharmaḥ sanātanaḥ

Manu talks about Sanatana Dharma in the verse. The translation ' Say what is true, say what is sweet, but do not say what is true but not sweet, nor say what is sweet but not true. This is the perennial wisdom.' (courtesy: blog.practicalsanskrit.com)

In essence, he says do not speak harsh truths or (more dangerous) sweet lies. This knowledge was imparted by my teacher, when I was very young, and too naive to grasp what it actually embodied. However, the verse stuck on to me and I have followed this philosophy all my life.

What is truth? It's purpose is not merely to set the speaker free, but also to empower the listener. If a truth is being said just to clear the speaker's conscience, but adds absolutely no value to the listener, or goes to the extent of hurting them, then it should not be told.

For instance, let's assume that a friend, after saving up some money from his first job, buys you a gift, which you do not particularly like, what would you do? You could either bluntly state the truth and say that you did not like the gift, or choose to say nothing at all, and accept it graciously. Here, the gift is not just a mere material indulgence, it has a strong emotional undertone because it has been brought out of love. It has been chosen carefully and has been given to you with respect and love. In such a case, the truth becomes obsolete. If you still chose to speak the truth, then it is equivalent to using the truth as a tool to satisfy a very selfish purpose – putting your mind at ease.

Truth is powerful. It can set you free sometimes, but it can also shatter the world around you. I believe you can brutally honest to yourself and to others too,  as long as your truth does not harm them. Once, I was travelling to a friend's place for dinner. She had come all the way from the UK and was calling a select group of friends for some dinner at home. She had started cooking for all of us as soon as she had woken up that day and even kept text messaging her attempts at making dinner. In short, she was excited to have us over. However, I reached late because I started late and as a result got caught in the traffic jam. Now, when asked why I had reached so late, I could have said 'I started late' or 'I got caught in traffic'. While the first one is the truth, the second reason is partially a white lie. 

If I told her that I had started late, it would be truthful. It would set me free. It would help me enjoy the rest of the evening, but it would upset her. It would amount to her thinking that she was cooking for someone who did not even appreciate her time (which was never true). It would ruin her end of the evening. In such cases, does it really make sense for a person to know the truth? It does not do her good, it does not do anyone good - it probably teaches me to start ten minutes early next time I go to her house.  So, doesn't it make sense for me to hide under the white lie and keep everyone happy? 

So, each time I want to pass a comment on what I really think of a shirt someone is wearing, on why a friend is holding onto the past, on why a certain idea will never work out - I think. I think several times. Will speaking the truth help the person in the smallest way possible? If not, I do not shy away from saying a white lie and repeating it, if happiness is the solace the person is seeking.

In fond memory..

It has been a year already. And Syed continues to inspire us to do wonderful things that we never thought we would. His close friend and an equally wonderful person, Sathya, painstakingly organized a trip to an NGO called 'The Child' that takes care of orphans and underprivileged children. With the money raised, the children received white boards with markers, school uniforms, and lunch for two days. The home also received money to purchase a 2ft land. 

Thanks Sathya for the efforts taken. Thank you for making all of us a part of this wonderful initiative. There is surely no better way to remember a person as wonderful and unbelievable as Syed.

For those you want to contribute, here is the link of the NGO's website.   They also accept online donations. http://www.thechild.co.in/

‘Barf’i

Honestly, after all those ‘oh so wonderful’ reviews on the internet, I did expect the famed ‘mental’ act by PC and RK. But, No. The movie becomes more unbearable because it tries too hard to be sweet and rosy.  

The movie opens with a heavily ‘inspired’ Charlie Chaplinsque routine, which has Barfi trying to escape from a fat policeman. Of course, Ileana, the Bengali babhi, becomes a convincing Bengali with a big bindi, cotton saree, and a deer in front of headlights look (very original).  She continues to look surprised for the next fifteen hours of the movie.

Ranbir and his statuary warning are the cutest couple in the movie. They travel together everywhere and honestly they deserve an award for sticking together the whole time. Most of the things he does in the movie could actually get you behind bars in real life. But, No. When Ranbir does it, even the policeman laughs it off. He sabotages a public clock, that probably has heritage value. He breaks into a house. He kidnaps a girl. He also drugs a policeman. But, thanks to his life-saving (and cutesy) skills of eating watermelons, he escapes to Kolkata, with a mentally-challenged girl, arousing absolutely no suspicion on the way.  And as easy as it sounds, he finds a place to rent and a job by the time the three minute song is over.

PC is very surprisingly convincing. But, she also is not without stereotypes.  Ungainly shoes, weird haircut, deliberately cross-eyed – oh so totally ‘mental’. Not to sound insensitive, but I have in my lifetime observed and worked closely with so many people with disabilities – physical and mental. And not all of them point and make funny noises. Not all of them have a crystal ball that they gaze into thoughtfully.

I almost forgot the part where Barfi and Jhilmil find time to kill glowworms and blow bubbles in a forest. The glowworm torture chamber hoop is finally discovered by the policeman, who automatically makes the connect to Barfi. Yes, just one hoop exists in Darjeeling and it belongs to the deaf and dumb person in town. No shit Sherlock!

PC mostly gets kidnapped again and again in the movie, and each time she disappears, her father, a popular villain in Kolly/tollywood, or rather her father’s reflection on a window pane appears. The reflection father mumbles something incorrigible in Hindi and then a comic (!) sequence involving both the lead actors ensues.

The music is one of the best things about the movie. It completely uplifts the movie and adds beauty to the visuals. The climax is probably the only part where the entire theatre groaned in unison. The whole couple-in-love dying together sentiment is the quintessential climax in any south Indian masala movie (TR’s veerasamy included).

Overall verdict: Works in parts. Has a lot of funny jokes. But, zero points for handling disability in the most clichéd manner ever.  #notimpressed

I will remember you..

I still remember the first time I heard this song. Sitting quietly on the backseat of a car, overcome with so much emotion, and fighting away tears that were threatening to spill out.

As I struggled to look out of the window, to listen to the sounds outside, watch people pass by, anything but listen to this soulful music, anything to prolong bursting out into tears …

A  strong hand reached out.

A gentle yet firm hand clasped mine, entwining my feeble fingers, trying to invigorate and renew my hope. I resisted  the move first, but in my desperate need,  for a companion who understood and enjoyed the song as much as I did, I surrendered.

I surrendered to the music, to the hand, to the moment – and for a few minutes, I thought the music would last forever. Or did I think the hand I was holding on to, with my dear life, would remain forever?

The song was over in a couple of minutes, the loving hand stayed on for a while…

And then the music ended.

Silver jubilee celebrations

I know I am a bit too old to be talking about birthday celebrations, but who cares, I just turned 25 :) 

I am officially over the hill and my folks might soon give up their quest for finding my knight in shining armour :) I am closer to 26, and eventually closer to 30 too! 

I know this is just another day and just another year, but when the clock struck 12 and I looked around, all I could see were faces that meant the world to me. I still haven't figured out what I want to do, I have made a  lot of mistakes in choosing jobs, I still have to save up tons of money, but if there is one thing I have done right in all these 25 years, it is making the right friends.

Cheers!

What matrimonial sites do to you

When family friends, acquaintances, relatives, and the teacher aunty next-door (who by the way has been stuck in a terrible marriage for more than three decades), failed to set me up with a boy of their dreams, my parents finally took the plunge and signed me up for an online match-making portal. Online matrimonial sites are single-handedly the reason for me losing complete faith in humanity. Why you ask? Well, this is what they do to you:

1. They paint a perfect picture of happiness, joy, and love that will come to you if you make the decision to get married. For instance, look at that girl’s face – she is probably thinking, ‘I can’t believe I landed this dumb modeling assignment’.

But what does the website want us to believe? – ‘I am so effin happy because I found my knight in shining armor here, because that’s what knights do after they finish their rounds of horseback-riding and killing witches’

2. They want you to believe that the possibility of finding the ‘one’ is just a few clicks away. Phrases like how a ‘relationship manager’ could help you find your ‘life partner’ for a ‘premium price’ are thrown at you randomly to make you feel like a complete idiot for not signing up earlier.

3. They somehow manage to convince your ‘tambrahm’ folks that this is the next best thing after filter kaapi and The Hindu of course. Sample a typical conversation that I have with my mom:

Amma: Tambrahmmatrimony match says 80%... What’s the problem now?

Me: I don’t like him. He is settled in the US. I don’t want to go.

Amma: 80% di. Not common.

Me: Amma…

Amma: These days, 80% rarity, girls picky, what to do…(trails away visibly upset…)

4. Increases the chances of finding the ‘one’ by separating the several million castes we have in India. Iyermatrimony, punjabimatrimony, telgumatrimony, and oh for the rich fellas we have a privilegematrimony too. Somehow I believe things would be a lot easier if the sites were classified on the basis of professions. Some examples would be -- ITmatrimony, CAmatrimony, engineersintheusawithfakeaccentsmatrimony. Some the subsites would be parentscreatedtheprofilematrimony, lookingforspeeddatingmatrimony, and oh the hypocriterebelmatrimony ( Profiles that say stuff like 'I am extrovert with a traditional outlook)

If you think, things cannot get worse, sample this:

There is a ‘Pride of the Community’ column in a popular matrimonial website that features a celebrity. Any guesses who is the pride of the Iyengar community?

Ultimate star Kamalhassan – Yes! The man who has had two failed marriages, a long string of affairs, openly declared himself as an atheist, and is now currently living in with a woman he loves. Totally the poster boy for the conservative Iyengar community.

Did I mention the ridiculous profiles on the site? There was one ass who mentioned he only wanted girls who were ‘fair or very fair’. Some other gems:

• I want a girl who knows the national language Hindi (Since when did Hindi become the national language? It is an official language goddamit)
  
• I want a flexible match in the earning group of about Rs.3 to 4 lakhs per month, or an unemployed girl from a higher income group. (Translated as: Wants only rich girls. And don’t even get me started on the ‘flexible’.)
  
• Single daughter or single daughter with male brother/s preferred. (Again translated as: Non-rich girls don’t apply)
  
• Girl should be professionally qualified, employed/willing to work, very good looking, caring, traditional but with a modern outlook, and home loving. (Erm, my son, you can only find these women in the movies or Leo coffee ads. You know, the kind who wakes up at four, takes a bath, cooks, walks around the Tulsi plant ten times, prays for husband’s well-being, and then wakes him up with coffee)
  
• I want a girl who has been well trained in domestic responsibilities. (A maid you mean?)
  
• Quiet understanding, simple, broadminded, believe in co-existing, prepared to offer love and affection, have a feel for elders, knowing fundas of cooking, reasonably english speaking & educated and employed, family minded girl. (I just couldn’t go through this profile without flinching at the irony. The ‘quiet’ understanding with a ‘feel for elders’ part is just so creepy on several levels.)

My brother finds this whole process very funny and occasionally sends me profiles with grim jokes like ‘horrorscope’ on the subject line. This list could go on and on and make me sound like an absolutely judgmental ass who thinks the world of herself. Though this description might sound perfect on some counts, I am still stopping my passive aggressive rant so as to not ruin my ‘opportunities to get married’ on the interwebz.