Being Human

Phew! The tears have barely dried, the heart is still sunk. A glass of water hasn't done anything to the lump in the throat. The feeling is numb. Blank. Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar has retired.

What can be said about the man that hasn't already been. History has everything neatly recorded for posterity. The future generations are going to always find themselves facing the legend of Sachin Tendulkar every time they go down memory lane.

Over 24 glorious years, a lot of epithets have been used. The King, Legend, Little Master, God. The last one, I am not particularly fond of, to be honest. With good reason, I believe.

"Cricket is a religion. Sachin is God" makes for great banners & great copy. But ladies & gentlemen, let us not forget that Sachin Tendulkar is only human. Like all of us. 

Has had to deal with the same emotions, insecurities, frailties, anxieties, fears, joys, sorrows, ups & downs. He too must have had days when his mind would wander of thinking of Arjun taking his first steps as a child. Or wanting to be by Sara's side when she needed to hug her daddy as she went to bed. Or to stand by Anjali, instead of letting her raise the kids pretty much as a single parent for a better part of their teens . 

Or for that matter that he couldn't be by his Dad during his last moments. And most certainly leaving his grieving mother & family behind, on his flight back to England to play the World Cup in 1999.

And then, in spite of all that was going on in his heart & mind, to be able to refocus himself and bring all his energies to the service of his country. To the game that meant everything to him. 

Talk about keeping his ego in check. How easy would it have been for him to get swayed away as he walked out to the middle thinking, "I am the best batsman in this game, what can these bowlers possibly dish out to me" - and then shouldering his arms to the first ball he faced. Followed by that little nod of head, showing his respect to the bowler & to the game.

Talk about keeping a rational & clear head on his shoulders as a crazy nation of billions tried to own a piece of him. Elevated him to unbelievable levels of super-stardom never before witnessed by mankind. Showering him with so much attention, adulation, fame, wealth, power - makes for a very head cocktail. SRT, very politely, always stuck to his glass of water. Thank you very much.

Talk about knowing his limitations and turning down captaincy when it was offered to him a second time and instead backing someone who debuted 15 years after he did. And then go on to be the most loyal foot-soldier a captain could've ever hoped for. 

And then to be running the third run as hard as you can for your batting partner who perhaps hasn't played as many matches as many years you've been the top dog in the game. Being the best ever team man you can be, when phrases are being coined that equate you to the game & vice-versa.

Talk about being the first man to arrive for a training session and the last man to leave. Every single time. For twenty four years. Never resting on his laurels. Or his form. Or class. Pushing himself to further hone his craft, when the rest of the world was calling him the greatest ever.

And talk about not being cowed down, not being intimidated as he traveled to foreign lands, representing a country that yet had to find its place in the sun. And proudly wearing the tricolor on his helmet, signaling to the world, that to beat India, they first had to deal with him.

Always proud, never arrogant. Always confident, never brash. Always humble, never apologetic.

Thin lines to cross those, very thin lines indeed.

Calling him God just robs him of all that he has overcome as a human being & still managed to come out with flying colors. And how. Takes a very special man, with a razor focused mind, a humble heart & character of steel. They don't make too many of those any more.

For this alone, Tendulkar, was & will always be the greatest sporting legend India will ever see. The runs are a mere footnote.

Einstein said about Gandhi once - "Generations to come, it may well be, will scarce believe that such a man as this one ever in flesh and blood walked upon this Earth.”

The same, can be very proudly said of one Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar. Remember, he was only human after all.

Don Na Banaata Dobara

Of the many ridiculous moments in Don 2, this one by far, takes the cake --

Three Interpol officers, an expressionless Om Puri, a clueless firang and a ravishing Priyanka Chopra have just stepped out of Germany's RBI equivalent, the Deutsche Zentrale Bank. And suddenly there's an explosion inside the building. The three officers stand motionless, looking up to the flames emanating from the glass facade and then Priyanka coolly flips open her cell phone and delivers an absolutely killer line -- "Let me make some calls and find out what's going on"

I wish I had Farhan Akhtar's cell number, for I too was itching to ask the same question. Over and over again.

For it is very difficult to understand, the underlying sentiment behind Don 2, both the movie and the character. Is the movie a sequel? Is it a full on action flick? Or is it a mere extension of the franchise that was never built on original ground to start with?

And is Don the character a suave cool underworld king, a gun-toting Jack Bauer rip-off (from 24, the TV series), a poor man's James Bond, or an irritating, sneering version of Ethan Hunt?

"All of the above", for both sets of questions, is a very bad answer.

Farhan Akhtar, the director, has had a mixed bag career so far. He has given us two of the best movies of our generation, the path-breaking Dil Chahta Hai and the phenomenal Lakshya, a sure-shot entry in my all time top 10 list. The original remake of Don didn't live up to my expectations, but at least had wonderful music, was entertaining in parts and it was fun to see SRK walk down the Bachchan lane. But with Don2, the graph alarmingly nosedives to pedestrian levels.

I guess Farhan needs to go back to the drawing board and thankfully doesn’t have to look too far for inspiration. Zoya Akhtar is fast maturing into a fine director and I think it would really help for him to tap into her reservoir of relatable and interesting characterizations, something Farhan himself executed beautifully in his first two ventures.

It seems like when Farhan the actor has impressively grown and dished out one good performance after another (Rock On, Luck By Chance, ZNMD), Farhan, the director is going the other way. The yin-yang of life, I guess.

Don2 fails at the every level -- script, screenplay and execution. The writing is juvenile and the dialogues are unintentionally funny and Don’s character graph is shoddily inconsistent. For a movie that places so much emphasis on the titular character, this is a cardinal mistake.

I can see how the plot could’ve looked promising on paper. But it doesn’t move far ahead from its initial promise. The movie starts on a decent note, the first action set piece (fantastically shot) is interesting enough to keep you hooked, but that’s about it. There isn't much to write home about thereafter. The “perfect crime” is a clear mish-mash of some very easily recognizable all-time Hollywood blockbusters and doesn’t impress at all. Edge of the seat? Most definitely not.

That SRK isn't an understated actor is known to all and sundry. That he is prone to bouts of overacting is also no secret. But, watching him overact and pretend THIS hard to be cool and menacing is taking overacting to another level. Right from the first scene to the last, SRK tried very hard to convince us that he indeed is “the” Don. The winter coats, spiky hairdo and some very cool glares do lend some chutzpah to the character, but SRK unnecessarily pushes it too far with a constant smirk on his face. And the result is a Don who loses his charm, gets on your nerves and alienates you the viewer from the onscreen proceedings. Cardinal mistake # 2.

Game over, SRK. Time to learn some new tricks. FAST.

A charming Lara Dutta and a sophisticated, though clumsy Aly Khan bring some much needed freshness to the franchise and thank heavens for no Arjun Rampal. I guess that is the perhaps the only thing better than Don(1). Priyanka Chopra had a much better role in the original and is reduced to mouthing some very corny lines here and trying to act “tough”, though she looks a million bucks. Om Puri & Boman Irani clearly need some solitude and time to self-introspect. What are two such fine actors being reduced to??

Hrithik Roshan, in a suave cameo, gives us tantalizing glimpses of what it takes to live up to an enigmatic and engaging character, leaving us ruing the moment he pulls the mask over his head.

Another phenomenal disappointment is the sheer lack of an OST. I mean, where are the bloody songs?! Shankar Ehsaan Loy are so disappointing, that it is even hard to put it into words. The original Don remake had a kick-ass soundtrack, even if three of the numbers were re-mixed from the original Kalyanji-Anandji score. For a movie that tries to build an aura around its central protagonist and the plot, the music ought to play a very key part. Don 2 miserably fails on this account. I couldn’t recall a *single* line from any song as I walked out of the movie, and if that isn’t disappointing, I don’t know what is.

I somewhere read that for the longest time, Farhan Akhtar wasn’t convinced of making a sequel. I so wish he had stuck to his guns.

And the number-plate of the bike in the final sequence notwithstanding, to make or not make Don3 is not even a question.

Rating: * (primarily, for the slick cinematography)

barbaad kare, alfaaz mere..

the words, they destroy – Precisely what the writing does to the movie.

First things first – It is an absolute pleasure to see Shammi Kapoor in a deep-blue raw-silk kurta, the expressions on his face and the glint in his eye, magically conveying every sur of the shenaai. A real Rockstar, if there ever was one.

The rest of the movie, unfortunately, didn't delight me as much as I hoped it would. I really wanted to like it. And I did try to. When the intermission lights flickered back on, I resisted the urge to get carried away with the “disappointed” emotion running inside me. And then, it went further downhill..

I am all for complex, layered stories. Stories which defy convention. Stories that are not linear. Stories that prompt me to read between the lines. But please don’t give me a story that fails to connect at a basic level. A story that is shallow, in spite of all the detailed characterization and drama.

Passionate love stories can be very intriguing. And enjoyable. Think “Dil Se”. I know a lot of people loathe the movie, but the chemistry of the lead pair, the raw madness, the passion, the junoon – just scorches the screen. And what’s most important is that neither the protagonists, nor the story, tries too hard to do this. It unfolds naturally. And that is where Rockstar loses its brownies. It tries too hard.

Janardhan Jakad, the character played by Ranbir, is all focused to make it big as a musician. And then all of a sudden, he drops everything and starts romping around town with Heer, a girl he barely knows and has nothing in common with. And moreover, forsakes an opportunity for a break in the music world, which he so desperately seeks and heads off to Kashmir, to attend Heer’s wedding. In what capacity? As a friend? Confidant? Man Friday? Pseudo-boyfriend? Or just because the director wanted to film a montage of stunning landscapes and depict a so-short-its-over-before-you-even-realize Kashmiri wedding?

And coming to Heer – Agreed that she’s comfortable revealing her inner-self and hidden desires to Janardhan, since they don’t know each other too well and she doesn't stand the risk of being judged. But then why push it as far as prancing around with Janardhan hours before her wedding, doing a “Kashmir Ki Kali” with him while her friends merrily capture YouTube videos? Pretty much “to hell with my to-be husband, let’s cavort around while you are here”!

My biggest grouse with the movie however, is the romance, the attraction, the connect or lack of thereof between the two characters. And because that is the central premise the movie hopes to hinge on, the rest of it, to me at least, comes across as a farce.

Janardhan, now Jordan (can’t have a Rockstar without a hep name, can we) returns back from Kashmir and is thrown out of his house, lives at the Hazrat Nizamuddin dargah and eventually, two months later, good sense prevails and he moves in with his samosa-sponsoring mentor, Khatana. And this period in exile has brought him a little closer to the divine, made him a better musician – but NOT ONCE in this entire period is Heer referenced – neither in his thoughts, nor his actions and most importantly, not even in his music.

And then suddenly, he is desperate to sacrifice everything and hop onto a free plane ride to Prague? Really? To meet Heer? So much for love.

Yes, love. Probably the most irrational of all emotions. I get it, OK. But am I to believe that what Jordan has for a very-married Heer is love? Or lust? Or just returning the favor, in foreign land, no less - “to hell with your husband, let’s cavort around again while I am here”

After a much hare-brained exit from Prague, what the hell is Jordan angry about? This angry? What’s with suddenly being anti-establishment? Do we have an agenda here? Sadda haq, what the fuck?

And then, the madness intensifies. Negative press, beating up cops, canceled concerts and recordings. Re-enter Heer, marriage crumbling and in the last stage of a terminal disease. And our man goes ballistic once again. And what does he attempt to do the first time he reunites with her in such a condition – kiss her, but of course! The movie spirals into an abyss after this point and the finale culminating in an obscure and violent concert @ Prague is equally baffling.

The true Rockstar of the enterprise is the maestro himself. The combination of Rahman in such tremendous form and Mohit Chahaun doing perhaps the best singing of his life, is sheer genius. One song after the other, the soundtrack grabs you by the scruff of the neck and refuses to let go. The music grows on you when you least expect it to and that’s where-in the beauty lies. Effortlessly, it just seeps into your veins. And then even if you want it to, you cannot resist being drawn into it. The lyrics, by Irshad Kamil are exquisite and according to me, are what lend the x-factor to the album. It’s refreshing to hear such magical lyrics & compositions..Here is an album for the ages.

My most favorite picks of the lot are the fantastically magical and haunting aur ho. You think you’ve heard it all from Rahman and then he comes up with this. Uff. Reserve the Best Playback Singer trophies for Mohit for this one, I say. And then there are the divinely blissful strains of kun faaya kun. Interspersing guitar chords with a qawwali rhythm achieves such a magical sound, that it's impossible to put into words. This is stuff is to be cherished life-long and be thankful for.

Coming back to the movie, my heart really goes out to Ranbir. While not his career-best performance (that honor is reserved for the super-awesome Rocket Singh Salesman of The Year), here is an actor who has put his heart & soul and tried his best to infuse life into Jordan. But criminally, the character is so shoddily written, that it really doesn't allow him to take it beyond a point. Had the script and screenplay been tighter, Ranbir as Jordan could have become a memorable character in the annals of Bollywood. Lost opportunity, this one. And that’s what pains even more. All eyes on Anurag Basu now to pull off an ace with Barfee and give Ranbir a movie worthy of his acting prowess. The guy certainly deserves better.

What Rockstar also severely lacks - the most important ingredient of any love story, is a leading lady that makes you fall head over heels in love and makes your heart skip a beat. While Nargis might look ravishing in some scenes because of her sheer screen presence, it really is difficult to look beyond her pouted lips and her Katrina hangover. The acting, unfortunately, is a huge downer. It is a pity that Ranbir cannot be paired with Kareena, else she would've probably taken this to another level altogether.

Imtiaz Ali, the captain of the ship, while well-intentioned and wanting to narrate an unconventional love story, really botches up the execution. And coming from him, Rockstar disappoints even more than it otherwise would have. Really, socha na tha!

There is a very thin line between flawed characters and flawed characterizations. Rockstar criminally crosses over to the other side and then there’s no looking back.

Rating: ** (one for Ranbir, one for Rahman)

jo darr gaya, samjho marr gaya

Salim-Javed coined the phrase in the early 1970's - but never before has it been so applicable and so true.

Today is the battle of nerves. Of who first bats an eyelid. Of tension. Of drama. Of passion. Of emotion.

Whoever says this is just another game is freaking KIDDING themselves.

Keep aside the politics of it all. Keep aside the mass-hysteria in the media. Keep aside everything else. This is a bloody knock-out game, a World Cup semi-final at that. Winner takes all. Loser is scarred for life. Yes, for life.

We know, coz we've been there before. Scratch beneath the surface and the wounds haven't healed.

1996 v/s Sri Lanka was absolute tragedy. 2003 v/s Australia was like a bad nightmare.

My generation has grown up on muted visuals of Kapil Dev lifting the Prudential Cup at Lords in 1983. And since then, the burning desire to see another Indian captain lift the biggest trophy of them all has only intensified with each passing tournament. Several inflicted heartaches later, it still is an unrealized dream.

And that is why today's India v/s Pakistan semi-final @ Mohali is not just a game. It is a step towards a shot at glory.

Refute it all you may, but there still is something about your team being called 'World Champions'. Number # 1 Test side and all that doesn't even come close.

This is what matters.

The last World Cup knockout game against Pakistan was 15 years ago, but is still fresh in our memories like it happened yesterday. Ajay Jadeja played the innings of his life and Aamir Sohail will go to his grave regretting the wild swipe off Venkatesh Prasad which led to his downfall.

Take a look at the scorecard of that game here and carefully glance over the team sheet.

Everyone, but one man, has turned into a coach, a commentator or simply slipped into oblivion.

But that one man is still playing so magnificently it's as if the years haven't rolled by. The steel in his eyes, the fire in his belly, the calm head on his shoulders and his passion for the game have even further intensified. If that was humanly possible.

Today, as the team steps out for the National Anthem, a billion pair of eyes will be on that one man - Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar. Watching him sing aloud the anthem today will probably be worth more than anything else.

Sure there will be a World Cup every four years. And sure India might go on to win another one or two in our lifetimes. But there will be no Tendulkar. And there won't be anyone like him either.

The greatest cricketer, ever, deserves to win cricket's biggest prize. And no, he wouldn't want the team to win it for him - that'll be trivializing his stature. He will want to win it for the country. And God willing, he will. Watching him do a victory lap in Bombay will probably be one of the best moment of our lives. If not THE best moment.

But first, we have a job on hand today, to crush Pakistan to the depths of oblivion. To make a statement. To let Sri Lanka know that we're coming to avenge that evening @ the Eden.

My gut tells me that SRT will have a huge role to play today, but won't score a 100.

Something tells me that the angels up there, watching over the little man, have written the perfect script, bringing it all together and culminating the epic exactly where it all began - In Bombay.

The Wankhede, all decked up and pretty, awaits its most favorite son with open arms. That is where ultimate glory will be achieved. That is where the 100th ton will be scored.

There cannot be a different end to this fairy tale.

Meanwhile, Shahid Afridi and his men better beware. The weather prediction says that a dust-storm is expected at Mohali today. Deja vu, anyone?

And trust Salim-Javed to brilliantly sum it all up - loha garam hai, maar do hathoda!

rang rangeela parjaatantar!

To laugh or to cry - that is the real question.

A tinge of sadness permeates through your body as the laughter dies down and you're surprised that your eyes are moist. Tears of happiness, most certainly not.

Charlie Chaplin couldn't have summed it up better when he said - "Life is a tragedy when seen in close-up, but a comedy in long-shot". Anusha Rizvi's brilliantly written and directed Peepli [Live] is a superb testimony to that fact and to Chaplin's movie making style of black-humored slapstick that ends up moving you. Irrespective of how funny the proceedings are.

Intelligently multi-layered, where at one end it is as in your face as it gets and on the other, its subtely and underplaying of the most key moments leaves you alone with your thoughts and prompts you to think. To feel. To look within.

I am not making any claims that this movie will change anything, but for us, the torch-bearers of a very shallow generation of over-achievers, it prompts us to pause for a second and look at India behind the shining.

Weaving a simple storyline into a compelling screenplay is fine art and on that front PL score big-time. On paper, this one's a wafer-thin story. I wonder how Anusha would've narrated it to anyone and how she would've presented this to Aamir (via email, apparently) that it made the actor agree to produce it. Would love to see that draft, really.

Peepli [Live] reinforces how tolerant and numb we've become towards corruption, that is now an almost indispensable part of our social fabric. As Ahuja (Om Puri's character in Jaane Bhi Do Yaaron, Peepli [Live]'s spiritual predecessor) puts it - "cement mein ret to sabhi milaate hain, ye to ret mein cement milaata hai!" Really, it isn't about whether one is corrupt or not but about how much is the extent of corruption. Commonwealth Games, anyone?

Also it is a reflection of our cut throat unapologetic use-and-throw attitudes that have become so commonplace and 'natural', that sometimes we don't even end up realizing it.

I guess everyone pretty much knows what the story is - the beauty is in how the material is handled. And in the casting of the actors that take the written word to an absolutely different level. Raghuvir Yadav as the good for nothing elder brother is almost born for the part. Omkar Das Manekpuri playing Natha, the central protagonist, uses his form, facial expressions and body language to convey his confused state of mind so brilliantly, that for once, the dialogues almost seem an after-thought.

However, the razor sharp lines shine through that amazing old lady who plays the bed-ridden but fantastically fire-branded Amma, that it never once seems that she is performing for the camera. An absolute natural. Even the lady playing Dhania, Natha's wife acts wonderfully well.

The similarity between the TV journalist characters and real characters we see on TV day in and day out is no coincidence and increases their believability, if anything else.

A touch of directorial class is the Hori Mahato track that is beautifully woven into the narrative and is so subtlety symbolic, that it might not register an impact with cine-goers used to hearing their news at unbelievably loud decibel levels.

Talking of decibel levels, watching the journalists scream hoarse into their microphones, I couldn't help but think about the peaceful times when there was only DD News at 9. Now, there are 90 national news channels blaring prime-time jarring sound-bytes on everything about gaon-ki-gori to Shilpa Shetty's blouse-ki-dori!

des mera has been one of my most favorite Indian Ocean numbers and it finally gets the kind of mass popularity it so richly deserves. It is the central theme song of the enterprise and the lyrics suit the proceedings to the tee.

And finally, kudos to Aamir Khan for believing in the subject and giving it the kind of platform only he could have. Looking at the unanimous accolades, this might just be his ticket to going one step beyond Lagaan at the Academy Awards. Only time will tell.

For now, switch off the TV and head to your nearest theatre. Really, aaj tak maut ki itni raunak nahin dekhi hogi!


Sam's rating - 3/5

Déjà vu, of the worst kind

It happened in November 2008 once and now the story is repeating itself all over again.

Both instances involved two brilliant & delightful UTV movies –Oye Lucky, Lucky Oye, then and now, Kaminey. As Dibakar Banerjee said in an interview post OLLO’s release, “har picture ka ek bhagwaan hota hai” – guess these two movies share their deity.

The 26/11 terror weekend brought the entire city down to its knees for almost 3-4 days. Everyone was glued, watching the most horrific reality show unfold itself on national TV. Going to watch a movie in the theatres was the last thing on anyone’s mind. Oye Lucky opened to single digit % bookings over its first weekend and though it recovered with word of mouth, the damage had pretty much been done. Dibakar Banerjee most wonderful second offing, for all the cult status it has gathered since, wasn’t able to rake in the box-office moolah and get the eyeballs it so richly deserved.

And now, swine flu happens. The government hits the panic button and shuts down all schools and colleges for a week and all cinema halls for 3 days. I was just about to get online on Wednesday evening and book my tickets for the Friday evening show for Kaminey, when I heard the dreadful news on TV. I almost sunk. Aug 14 wasn’t gonna turn out the day I was so lipsmackingly looking forward to. Kaminey was going to enthrall everyone through its opening weekend, except for us flu-mania-stuck denizens of Bombay and Pune. I mean, yes, the swine flu scare is pretty real, but still. I am still not able to explain it to myself.

I don’t remember the last time I wished for the weekend to just zip by in a flash and so eagerly waited for Sunday to arrive.

The reviews for Kaminey have started flowing in and I am not one bit surprised by the unanimously positive reactions. I have yet resisted reading any review in detail, have skimmed through the titles and the ratings at the end. Don’t want to pollute my mind with any kind of details that will dampen the Nirvana.

The promos and the kick-ass soundtrack had set the benchmarks way too high anyways. The movie was definitely gonna be all that and much more. And am so glad it is. After all, it’s a Vishal Bhardwaj product.

Yes, having such unreal expectations from anyone is pretty insane, but then you watch any 10 minutes of The Blue Umbrella and you know that the man is sheer genius and that your heart won’t settle for anything mediocre. For all of you who haven’t watched this absolute gem of a movie, please do yourselves a favor and rent a DVD this weekend.

Meanwhile, the Kaminey experience is still two agonizing days away. The weekend has never seemed so long before.

Adieu, PDX

What a moment to be writing this. Sitting @ the PDX airport, 5.40 in the morning, another 45 minutes to go for my flight to take off. 

Dunno when I will be back. Dunno if I will be back. But then as life has been over the last 3-4 years, one lesson I've learnt is to not discount out anything. 

13 eventful months. 13 months, in a city, that everyone down in sunny California raised their eyebrows to. "Portland, you leaving the Bay Area for Portland! Do you know the kinda weather that's up there? Blah, blah, blah"

To be honest, I was a lil skeptical to begin with. And it wasn't love-at-first-sight either. But theng gradually, as the city began to seep into my veins, I flipped. Completely. By the old-school charm, the green and most importantly, the calm & peace that Portland had to offer. 

And the wonderfully warm people I met, only added to the charm. Some absolute gems, really. I hope the friendships last a lifetime.

After Bombay, Portland is the closest to where I've felt like being @ home. How I'm feeling @ the moment is how I feel everytime I take a flight outta Bombay. Its difficult to believe that another city evokes the same emotions. But it does.

Anyways, life is all about whole-heartedly embracing the change. So here we are. Goodbye, my dear city. And thank you for being such a wonderful host. I really couldn't have asked for more. 

Wherever life takes me, I shall always cherish the memories you've given me. Always.