The MAG

The Story of India Today!

Anon — Sat, 27 Feb 2010 08:00:15 +0000

A young girl gets pulled out of her car and beaten up, another gets raped in the middle of the road during peak hours, an Executive Engineer is beaten to death by a rude MLA, 27/67 MLA’s of Delhi have criminal records …and we continue to tolerate all this, saying we Indians are tolerant. So, who are we kidding? We are not tolerant, but impotent and selfish. We are the least tolerant, on the contrary, we, specialize in intolerance. We kill people in our rage – be it road rage, or the BMW rage, or the bar rage that killed Jessical Lal, or the murder of the Executive Engineer in UP some time back, or the school teacher who put a needle in a child’s eye for not answering a question …the list is endless.

Let’s own up the fact that we are no longer the Indians, that we were proud of at some stage of our life. As of now the world doesn’t look up at us, instead it sees us as lagging far behind (and going down) in every sphere of life. We have the highest number of poverty stricken people, we have the highest infant mortality rate, we have the highest number of people with drug resistant tuberculosis/rheumatic heart disease/ malaria – you just name it, and we are the toppers!

And when I say we, I mean we, the people, the people who read the English newspaper every morning, shake their head or even worse blame the system; the people who think they are “educated” and yet cannot see themselves standing in the same queue as all those politicians or scamsters; we, who can stand on the road and see two young people getting burnt alive in a car in the middle of the road in Delhi, the nation’s capital; we who think or aspire to be path breakers in research, knowledge and humanity. I am sure most of us know this but are not willing to accept these facts – the way things are going on, in another few years we will be scared to step out of our homes. Does even this selfish thought not ring an alarm inside us?

Why did all of us get so outraged at the Mumbai shootout? We were never so concerned when hundreds were dying, and are still dying, by bombs/bullets in Kashmir/North-East, by blue line buses, by the unscrupulous policemen and what not. Perhaps, one reason for the outrage is the fear that this can now happen to us – we, who mostly reside in such hotels. We have always thought that this will not happen to us as this usually happens where the underprivileged live. The reaction to this shootout and several other recent similar events was even more ridiculous – candle lights, citizen’s charter etc, etc. Who are we appealing to with these meaningless efforts? They don’t serve any purpose except for giving us some self-satisfaction – as if that is what ultimately matters. Read or talk to any great philosopher of modern India, or the “old” India, they all say that whatever you do should make you feel happy at the end of the day!

Isn’t this construed logic? Isn’t it selfish again? Do we think our great politicians or bureaucrats are not happy at the end of the day even though they are grabbing land, money, power and whatever one can dream of. They are opening institutions where you pay and get your way—they can justify opening these and tell you, “I have 5000 kids who got educated at my school” — how many have you educated? So even if their main motive is money, ultimately at the altar of God he would still have done a lot more than what ordinary human beings like us, the so called educated Indians, can think of.

There is no one to blame for such a situation except “us”. We listen to any discussion, discourse, tirade, whatever of an “intellectual” – be it a Doctor, an Engineer, CA, Managers of Multi-nationals, so many other successful people – the usual statement is that the government does nothing, the system is rotten. Everyone expresses his/her helplessness even though they WANT to do so much. Who is this SYSTEM? Is it a piece of hardware or a code of software? Is it comprised of human beings, or Gods or Ravana’s/Duryodhanas? Unfortunately, all these intellectuals do not realize or do not wish to recognize that we are the system. I cannot overemphasize—WE ARE THE SYSTEM. Till the day we acknowledge that and honestly accept that, the system will continue to be rotten. One can make 100’s of excuses about us not being the system or getting into the system, but if we claim/think ourself to be better than that “goonda” on the road or those villains depicted so nicely in the Bollywood movies, we have to make a sincere attempt to be in it. We cannot achieve anything till we acknowledge that WE are the system.

All of us know very well that these politicians and corrupt bureaucrats are not there for us. We gave our home (the country) to be run by these people, who smartly took this up as their profession. Imagine you giving your own house to be run by someone similar – would you ever do that? We have always looked at all this administrative work as menial and felt this was the job for the illiterates. Why do we expect them to be truthful, honest and disciplined? It is like any other business, be it our richest man of the world (at least for a few days when Bill Gates was in doldrums) or the one with the highest deposit in the Swiss bank/German bank, they have been like any other crook or probably like all of us Indians, selfish, and interested only in themselves. Don’t we make money far in excess of our needs, or enjoy power or bribe someone when there is a need for that? So why blame them. It’s high time we stand up and fight the system to give a better future to our children. Otherwise we can send all of them to USA and UK, the way most of our colleagues have done. We can then feel proud that the surgeon general of the US is an Indian or Sunita Williams is an Indian.

I am not proud of being an INDIAN today – just look around you at the average Indian – he is busy, extremely busy either making or trying to make money, fighting to get a social status so that he is “known” for his achievements. Most of us consider life as one big mela, enjoy it, rather than worry about it – the celebrations are endless and vulgar – just look around you, how much food we make and waste. A recent get together I attended had some over 100 types of dishes, more than 15 types of “dessert” and over a 100 people serving them, standing in front of you so that you pick up a piece of paneer or chicken or whatever – this is something you probably see only in India now. The British did this to us, but why are we doing this to ourselves now.

I have a colleague who once, in these “academic” discussions said, “we would have been better off under the British rule.” I was aghast – this was a highly educated doctor who represents the country’s best. What do u expect then from us? Going on with the get together, on the center stage meant for the “old boys/girls” you could see an ongoing dance – I hate to term it as vulgar but that is what it was – a vulgar demonstration of our wealth, our “culture” and our feelings towards the masses. I am not condemning such events, but only appealing to the intelligent Indian, to restrict all this to a much smaller scale with sensibilities intact – not for our own friends and relatives but for those who can’t get two meals.

All this talk is extremely pessimistic, but, unfortunately, there is no optimism in whatever I see around me. Something has to be done before it is too late – sometimes I feel happy that scientists have predicted that the world will come to an end by 2050. Great! At least I will have the satisfaction of not seeing India at its worst 40 yrs down the road. The only way I foresee for things to get better is to awaken the so called “educated middle class” that always keeps away from politics as if it is some beast or an untouchable. We have to understand that unless we do it, things will gradually become even worse than the British Raj. And, this time, we might not get a Bapu.

February 12, 2010 — Beyond Barriers…
January 19, 2010 — The Rise of the “Baba”!
January 2, 2010 — Where the Mind is Without Fear…
December 17, 2009 — Splitting States – The New Story of India!
November 14, 2009 — Brothers in Peace

Old Dogs- A Review!

Aniruddha — Mon, 22 Feb 2010 08:21:11 +0000

What happens when you have two seasoned actors of Hollywood – Robin Williams and John Travolta – getting together in one movie? You would think that even with a very ordinary script, the movie would be high on entertainment, and your money would be well spent.

Well, not really. This movie is a disappointment; the director, Walt Becker, has just wasted two great and very professional actors. The story is weak, and the only saving grace in the movie are a few funny moments that barely help the movie to drag along. It is a relief that the movie does not stretch beyond the scheduled hour and a half mark, or else sitting through the movie would be unbearable.

The movie is about how Dan (Robin Williams) and Charlie (John Travolta) find themselves getting into trouble of having to manage two kids. If that sounds familiar, you are right. The script is a near rehash of Three men and a baby from 1987. Dan meets his long divorced wife one fine day, and discovers that since she has to serve a prison sentence, he needs to take care of his kids, which he never even knew existed. Dan’s boy Zach (Conner Rayburn) has a list of activities which he always wanted his dad to do for him. Dan and Charlie go about trying to fulfill these wishes, even though a little reluctantly at first. These activities lead to some funny scenes, and that is what the movie is all about.

Frankly this movie is nothing but a huge disaster for the fans of Robin Williams and John Travolta. For me, it would have been better to sit back at home and relax, than rush from office to catch this one.

Rating : 2/5

Images: From the Internet

Humour in Uniform : The Gorkha Tales

Shaurya — Tue, 16 Feb 2010 06:31:50 +0000

The day I was commissioned in the Gorkha Regiment, I knew I have been put with the most dynamic yet simple soldiers of the mighty Indian Army. The physically undersized and naïve Gorkha with small, barely discernible eyes, can be the most ferocious and heroic warrior in the combat zone on one hand, while on the lighter side he can be the unanimously proclaimed dope amongst his counter parts in other regiments. To add to his woes are the weird and wonderful traditions that the army has inherited from the British, which again, at times, can be too sophisticated for this juvenile soul to figure out. But one can never anticipate the ways these traditions can boomerang into the most hilarious situations, courtesy our dear soldiers.

It was during my younger days in the battalion when I was appointed the Officer In-charge of the ‘Ummeedwar’ cadre, run for the recruits who land up in the units straight from the Regimental Centre after their basic military training which is more of an year long transformation clinic for a simple village lad, to condition him into the tough army regime. Being the first major responsibility bestowed on my newly starred shoulders, I did my best to train them well and familiarise them with the traditions of the paltan.

Finally, it was time to test them with a written exam. To prove my witty and smart intellect, I put a question to name the adjutant of the battalion in the question paper, in an attempt to test the presence of mind of the examinees.

The real shocker came to me while correcting the answer sheets. I saw that one of the sepoys had written ‘54’ as the name of the adjutant of the battalion. Perplexed, I could not figure out as to how anyone can commit the mistake of writing a numeric figure when asked for a name. The whole day I kept wondering to myself that even if he was not aware of the correct answer why did he not write any name but ‘54’.

Like most discoveries are unearthed by men in bliss, I also cracked this mystery after cocktails in the officers’ mess late that evening.

The origins of the mistake actually was an old custom followed in our Gorkha Regiment. The soldiers were often called by the last two digits of their army numbers instead of the names. This was because of the indistinguishably similar names that their parents had bestowed them with. Everyone was either ‘Hem Bahadur’ or ‘Dhan Bahadur’ with little ambiguous variations to the first name, followed by common ‘Thapa’ in the last.

So, to keep it simple for the gentlemen officers in command, some intellectual soul pre-Indian independence, devised a novel method of addressing them as ‘zero saat or solah or ikkees’ and likewise. This convention was gladly followed over the years and had become a regular practice. However, this bright spark in the ‘ummeedwar’ cadre had turned the tables and applied the same rule for his officer. Our Maharashtrian adjutant who was called Chavan (Maj B Chavan) by all seniors, had become army number ‘chauwan – 54’. It was a howler that was the talk amongst officers for weeks to come.

Each day in the battalion, thus, gave us numerous amusing memoirs to cherish our association with our brave men.

Image: From the Internet

Beyond Barriers…

Aniruddha — Fri, 12 Feb 2010 03:23:33 +0000

“ I like chicken tikka and you?”
“Me too.”
“I like Shahrukh Khan, and you?”
“I like him too, but I find Ranbir pretty hot these days.”
“Whats happening with your team, they aint playing well, we guys beat you in the last cricket match.”
“Yea, that is fine but why are you guys not allowing us to play in IPL?”
“We love to see you guys play, but what can we do ?”

This could be a typical conversation between two normal friends across borders, who share so many things – culturally and otherwise- that at times one wonders, why are these nations separate in the first place. That debate aside for the moment, what is it that makes us hate people? There are enough problems around us to submerge ourselves in and deal with, but we forget all that is around us and pay more attention to what someone on a TV channel is telling us.

Look at what we are missing out on, I am a hardcore cricket fan, and I will speak for myself, that I miss watching the fast bowlers from across the border playing in our IPL. The only time when the Pakistani players played in the IPL, it was fantastic to watch Shoaib Akhtar take on Sachin Tendulkar, or see Shahid Afridi hit a few sixes out of the park. There are artists, who are stopped from coming and performing here – Ghulam Ali, bands like Jal, Strings, and so many other good singers that are loved on both sides of the border. There are garments, food cuisines, sports, etc. which we would like to share with each other.

Given a chance, I believe the people from both sides would love to interact more often, in a friendly manner, and exchange views, trade, etc. It is only a few ill-willed forces that are acting in a manner that a cordial relation between the two nations becomes an impossibility. Are we going to stay foolish and vote them into power, are there not enough issues left for these politicians than to instigate us against our neighbors. My heart boils when I hear educated Indians supporting such bans on our neighbors. Please realize that people across the border, or rather across the world are facing same problems in their lives, and our wishing ill will towards them does no good to them, or us.

It has been around 60 years that we have been trying to resolve our differences, and I do not have much hope that it will be solved soon. It is about time, that we realize that sharing a smile and maybe even a hug with our neighbors can go a long way in resolving the differences. The younger lot in our country seems to be more rational in its approach and I see hope there in terms of starting a dialogue. It is heartening to see even the government now taking cognizance of the fact that, by not talking they are only playing into the hands of the forces who never want the neighbors to have a cordial relationship.

February 27, 2010 — The Story of India Today!
January 19, 2010 — The Rise of the “Baba”!
January 2, 2010 — Where the Mind is Without Fear…
December 17, 2009 — Splitting States – The New Story of India!
November 14, 2009 — Brothers in Peace

How Neeraj Missed IIT, But Kissed Russia!

Interviews — Wed, 10 Feb 2010 09:20:34 +0000

Neeraj Chhibba is the Author of the book ‘Zero Percentile – Missed IIT Kissed Russia’, which has been published by Rupa. He was born and raised in New Delhi and then went to study engineering at Volgograd, Russia. He is currently employed with a software company in Gurgaon, India. For a while the pressure of succeeding professionally and earning his daily bread made him turn away from writing, but eventually he returned to his first love- writing!

Here he talks about his journey to becoming a published author.

The MAG: Tell us something about your background – the city where you grew up, the school you studied in, your childhood friends, and anything else about your past that you think left an indelible mark upon you.
Neeraj Chhibba: Well, I was born and raised in the city of Delhi. I studied in a public school. Have a lot of fond childhood memories – of playing leg cricket in school recess (it is an extinct sport now but we had a gala time playing it), of preparing for the school exams and finding innovative ways to cheat in the examination, of the excitement of moving to the senior wing when I entered class VI. I am sure my chest expanded by a couple of inches on the first day.

TM: When and how did you start writing? Was it something that was a result of an inner yearning, or was it due to some external factors?
NC: No, for me writing was always an inner calling. I grew up in a family where not so much importance was given to English speaking and writing. But, I still grew up to write a whole book goes to show that I was destined to write. I wrote for the school magazine and I participated in an Essay writing competition on behalf of the school (where I won the Highly Commended Certificate from the Royal Commonwealth Society and I was the only one in New Delhi to have received it). From so far as I can recall I began to write after I entered class VIII. I wrote a few poems at the start which I did not show to anyone then, and now, when I try to find them, I can’t. I think I have lost them forever.

TM: In India, even today, most parents will not feel comfortable if their child tells them that he wants to be a writer. Did you ever discuss this with your parents? How did they react?
NC: In my case, they would not have wanted to stop me. This is because my circumstances were different when I decided to write. As I was already in a job and I had no intention of leaving it, there was no question of a financial loss. Consequently, there was no reason for them to stop me. To share a secret, nobody in my family ever thought that I would be a writer but I very strongly believe that I did it since I was destined to.

TM: You have a blog. Did the blog come first or the idea for the book? When did you start writing the book?
NC: Oh! The blog came much later. I began to write the book almost five years ago and the blog came almost two years after I finished the book.

TM: In India, getting a publishing house to accept your manuscript is not easy. How was your experience with that?
NC: It was no better (or worse I think) than anyone else’s. Initially, I felt that my book had an international flavour so I sent the manuscript to publishers in the West. But, as it is difficult for first time authors to get noticed I was rejected always. Then, after trying at least a hundred lit agents and publishers, I began looking inward and finally found Rupa. Rupa really is a breeding house for debutant authors. I was also lucky to get this break with them.

TM: Tell us a little bit about your book.
NC: Zero Percentile is a unique book in many ways. It is the story of Pankaj, the protagonist, who nurtures the dream of getting into the IIT but could not and ends up in the Russian city called Volgograd. This is the story of his journey which he undertakes, after being born, till after the time he finishes his Engineering degree in Russia. Zero Percentile also does a few firsts in the history of fiction:

- Never before has IIT been written about from the perspective of someone who did not study there. Zero Percentile delves into this and tells readers that there is life beyond IIT, beyond failure, and you just need the courage to get on with it
- Russia has always been portrayed as an enemy by the west. Zero Percentile takes a look at the humane side of the Russian society, a far cry from the evil people they are always shown as. The time explored in the book is the tumultuous 90s when Russia was converting from a communist to a capitalist state, one of the more turbulent times for their huge population trying to cope with the extreme changes brought about by the rapid transformation
- Interwoven in the story is the part about the lives of Russian War Heroes who were a part of the II world war and played a major role in stopping Hitler’s onslaught, an obscure fact not known much outside the Eastern Bloc. This part talks about Volgograd, one of the five ‘Hero Cities’ in Russia, which had more than two million casualties in World War II
- Beyond the firsts, Zero Percentile very subtly raises the issue of AIDS and how young people need to be careful with their sex lives without being preachy

TM: What was the most difficult part of writing your book, and getting it published? Did you ever feel like giving up?
NC: The most difficult part in writing Zero Percentile was when suddenly all my ideas dried up. That’s the moment when you shut down your laptop and want to stop writing altogether. And then, when you finish the book and start looking for a publisher, you realise that writing was just a small part of that big charade which you had unknowingly started. Writing is entirely in your control. So, if you have discipline and the will, you will be able to write a book but Publishers are under nobody’s control and they are really not ready to publish a debutant author. That’s when you begin to despair and think of shelving the project altogether.

TM: How has writing “Zero Percentile” affected your life? Are you still continuing with your day job? Does that interfere with your writing?
NC: Yes, I am still continuing with my day job. I would like to borrow from a famous paraphrase: ‘You cannot make a living out of writing but you can make a killing out of it.’ So, I guess I will continue with my day job. My writing does not interfere with it as I write on weekends when I don’t have any office work lined up. I also make sure that office work takes priority over everything else.

TM: There is a sizeable population out there who would want to quit their day jobs and become professional writers. Do you think that is a good idea? Based on your experiences what would you suggest to such people?
NC: No, I will never suggest people to quit their job. First, they should test waters, get published. See how their first book went in terms of number of copies sold. Then they should come out with their second book and see if what they achieved with the first book is a trend. Only then if they see enough financial reward that they should think of quitting.

TM: Do you thinking writing is more of a talent, than a practised art?
NC: It is actually both. Beautiful sentences will flow because of the inherent talent. But, a good story can even come out with disciplined writing and methodical research. It’s like cooking your favourite dish. Put in all the right spices in right quantity and you are bound to get the right dish out.

TM: What are your future projects? Any books in the pipeline?
NC: I am planning to come out with the sequel of this book. But, a lot needs to be done for Zero Percentile before I think of coming out with the sequel in the market. I think it will at least be a year before it hits the stands.

Gracefully Giving Way To The Future…

Sukanti Ghosh — Fri, 05 Feb 2010 07:28:16 +0000

“Why is it so profoundly satisfying to lose one’s identity to one’s sons?”, I asked Soumya one sunny afternoon as we took a stroll down West Park.” I feel so good every time someone stops and praises Timmy or Tot and asks us if ‘we are Timmy and Tot’s parents?’, don’t you find this strange or do you feel the same way?”

“Strange? Not at all Manjula, I feel much the same way. Life flows in a continuum. A new generation always out seats the former – much like what is modern and new today becomes staid and boring tomorrow! This is life’s way to ensure that we willingly and gracefully give way to the future.”

Our two boys had been growing up right in front of our eyes. And despite our best efforts to provide them with a ’similar set of inputs’ in terms of food, emotional support at home, space, choice of school, books, toys, outings and pass-times, the two were growing up to be two very different individuals. Tim – formally known as Sushanto – was a charmer, an outgoing lady-killer who had bright eyes, a glib tongue, a mop of unruly hair and a dimple when he smiled. He was also showing strong signs of academic brilliance and his teachers at school were full of praise for his diligence and quick wit. Tim was also very clear that he would grow up to become an engineer like his father, which gave him the license to open up and destroy almost everything he could lay his hands on, since he wanted to know how it worked.

He was also very clear that he when he grew up he would own the big house down the road where he would stay alone with his wife and children. As for us, we could fend for ourselves!

Tot – Sumanto, that is – on the other hand was quieter and less outgoing. Awestruck in part by his brother’s exhuberance, he found respite in music, in animals, in team games and yes, extra-curricular activities that allowed him to express himself in his own special way. There was no doubt that he was exceedingly bright – he was promoted twice out of turn since the school authorities were sure his IQ levels were far above his peers – but he was bright in a controlled sort of way. Naturally, when we were summoned one afternoon to an assembly at the Bingley Junior School, we hardly expected what we saw and heard. Little Tot actually led the School Choir! This, we later got to know from his teachers, had been the practice for the past year. “Why hasn’t he told you?”, she asked. All we could do was hemm and haw. We later got to know that he forgot to share that little detail with us, primarily because it came to him so naturally. It wasn’t something to needlessly talk about.

As the boys grew up, we found we had suddenly gained a new identity: “This is Sumanto and Sushanto’s parents..” or “Hello Tim and Tot’s mama!” or “Hi dear, guess who these are, Tim and Tot’s parents, aren’t they a spitting image of their sons?”

I always found the last one slightly confusing. We, the replica of our sons? Wasn’t it supposed to be the other way around? Well, we didn’t really mind, but it brought a smile to our lips every time we heard an excited parent on the street introduce us as such.

Suddenly we had a new engaged social life to take care of. One peppered with aunt’s and uncle’s. With nieces and nephews. With friends and acquaintances from school, from Sunday School, from the Choir, from the football team, from the neighbourhood… And what followed were a stream of birthday parties, Christmas parties, presents, balloons, farewell dos and sleepovers. I seem to have become quite the full-time chaperone, whose sole purpose in life was to collect the boys from one place and drop them off at another – at times to two different places, before having to collect them all over again. But I didn’t complain. The tediousness of these chores disappeared every-time I saw a cheerful smile light up their faces when they saw me waiting for them.

Since Soumya was at work through much of this, our weekends were filled up with outings as he tried his best to make up for all the lost time. I remember a conversation we had had fairly early on in our marriage about this.

“Soumya”, I had asked, “do you realize that the way you work that you are going to miss out on so much of our son’s childhood? Tim’s first smile, his first words, his first steps, his first crush, his first football match, everything?”

“I know, but I don’t have a choice, do I?”, he brooded as a darkness suddenly crept over his face. “The pressures at Woden are only increasing. Close to a hundred people were laid off last week as a result of the industrial slump. With the way the economy is going, I am fairly sure that this won’t be the last time people are exited either. I need you to be my eyes and ears and tell me everything you see and find fascinating about them growing up. I need to continue to put my head down and see us through this storm”.

It was moments like these that made us yearn for home. The security of our country. The safety in numbers. The surety of our families. Of our erstwhile way of life.

One of the biggest debates we had with many of our friends was whether we ought to teach Bengali – our mother tongue – to our children as they grew up. “Bengali, their mother tongue?” Rathin had asked one afternoon as he stood with his back to the fireplace.” What, do you want them to be Indian? Face facts sweetheart, your children are British. Their mother tongue is English. Bengali is a thing of the past. Don’t let your hangover with the past become an albatross that you pass on to them!”

We thought otherwise.

Bengali, unlike many of our friends, was the language we spoke at home between ourselves since we were married. We didn’t intend to stop now.

But then help often comes in from the most unexpected quarters. In this case, from the good Dr Goodburn, my sons’ paediatrician.

“Now don’t get me wrong”, she had started one afternoon choosing her words carefully and watching our faces closely for the slightest indication that she was crossing the line of propriety, “your children are no doubt British and I, for one, am extremely glad that they are, otherwise, how would we have met? But let them not forget their roots, their language, who they really are. I still speak my native Celtic dialect as well as I do the Queen’s English. It gives me a sense of identity, of belonging that I hold very dear. Teach them your language as well. English will come naturally to them. Your language won’t, since they will hardly hear it around them as they grow up.”

“And don’t worry about them growing up confused”, she tried to reassure us, “a child can learn up to five languages simultaneously till the age of six. If you don’t do this now, it will be too late and you will never forgive yourselves.”

We made sure that we didn’t have reason to. And while, they did speak the language with errors in syntax, grammar and with the most violent cockney accent that you can imagine, the fact is that they grew up knowing that Bengali was very much a part of their being. Would this hold them in good stead when they prepared to step into the limelight? Only time would tell. But for the moment we were happy.

Soumya and I beamed as the gathering stood up and applauded our young boys, who dressed in starched white dhotis and kurtas, had just finished singing their first-ever Bengali song. The evergreen ‘Dhitang Dhitang Bole‘ had once again proved to be a hit. They had instantly gained many fans. And we even more recognition as their parents.

Image courtesy: cbcs from sxc.hu

Rann – Or, Was it Run?

Aniruddha — Tue, 02 Feb 2010 07:19:50 +0000

Even after another fantastic performance by our very own Big-B, and some good support by seasoned actors around him, this movie fails to impress. The movie has great cinematography, but a weak and predictable story line which just does not help the movie much.

I had a lot of expectations from the movie after watching the promos, and that just added to the disappointment. Choosing to watch Amitabh Bachchan in Rann, over Ishqiya, proved to be a wrong decision it seems. The movie could have been better with a stronger story line. The actors have done their bit, but this movie can be a classic example of what can happen when even though your actors perform well, you don’t have a good story to tell – the movie just seems ordinary.

The movie tries to expose the dark side of the News Channels in India, however, at times, the examples given become a bit boring. There is a section in the movie where Ritesh Deshmukh who is working with Amitabh Bachchan’s News Channel tries to investigate a story on his own; the whole investigation sequence I thought could have been handled better, but for the weak story. At another point in the movie, Amitabh, who is portrayed as someone who stands by his values and is disciplined when it comes to journalism, does not even bother to verify authenticity of a story and breaks the news to his viewers. There are many such instances where it seems the writer has not worked hard enough; the screenplay too therefore does not do justice to the movie. It seems like a complete patchwork knitted together without someone having looked at the complete package that was being delivered to the audience.

The closed camera angles and the color tone used were impressive. Rajpal Yadav’s performance in a serious yet comic role was a relief. Amitabh Bachchan’s performance was great, but that seems to be given these days, he’s a gem and I admire his acting. I was most impressed however by Sudeep. He has left a mark in the movie, and it seems he means business when it comes to acting. Riteish Deshmukh is very ordinary, and to me he seems fit to be doing only comedy roles.

I would suggest you wait till the movie gets released on one of the movie channels, and then you can enjoy it at home.

Rating : 2.5/5

December 21, 2009 — Avatar – Cinema Re-incarnated!
December 12, 2009 — Rocket Singh – Takes off!
September 2, 2009 — Quickgun Murugun: Shoots & Misses the LOLs!
August 16, 2009 — Kaminey -Watch at Your Own Risk!!!
August 1, 2009 — Love Aaj Kal – Truly Lovely!

IPL – The Business of Cricket!

Anon — Mon, 01 Feb 2010 11:34:45 +0000

The fact that the Indian Premier League (IPL) started with great fan fare in 2008 was an evidence of how Cricket, especially in India, made perfect business sense. The IPL, though planned on the lines of the European football tournaments, has turned out to be a business model for making money out of games. Lalit Modi, and his IPL, are now making for a real good case study in the B-schools. Though IPL brought in new faces and talents in its form of cricket, the significant fact about the IPL is the commercialisation of a game that was already quite popular with the media.

The ruckus raised by the recent IPL snub of the Pakistani players – be it accidental, or premeditated – is an example of how business focus can lead to an aggravation of sore relationships. The reason for the fiasco of not selecting the Pakistani players in any of the teams may be because none of the franchise wanted to bet money on horses, who they were not sure would even make it to the starting line. Post the Mumbai attacks, the relations between India and Pakistan have taken a turn for the worse – the effects of that can be seen on on the game too. No cricket match between the two nations has worked out since the Mumbai attacks.

A sport, any sport, if played with the right spirit, can always help to better the relations between two nations and not make them worse.

With business, Per-Cricketer Revenue (PcR) & Return on Investment (ROI) per cricketer, becomes the main focus of the organisers, team managers, and even the players. Taking a business approach, there is nothing wrong with the PcR and ROI view.

But IPL, a business endeavor as it is, should, however, never forget that in the end it is all about the sport. A sport that is almost a religion in our country, and our neighbor nation too. Whatever anyone might say, it has to be accepted that Pakistan has some of the best T20 players in the world. Not selecting any of them for the league does make one smell a rat somewhere, and sometimes the smell can be attributed wrongly. The Governments – Indian or Pakistani – making some comments about the issue on the media is not going to help either.

A good thing at this juncture would be to try and nurture the relationship again, through one of the strongest medium available – the game of cricket. And, IPL can play a major role in this.

It will not be surprising when, in the near future, the IPL teams come out with IPO’s of their own. When any private institution controls a game, the democratic government can, and should, only voice its concern rather than try to control the game. But, when the sport is the largest aspirational sport of the country, thee franchise should think about the nation first, before going overboard with its decisions. Business is overrated in the IPL League.

As someone said, “Most games are only lost, not won.” But, a sport should always win…and never lose.

November 14, 2009 — Brothers in Peace
August 27, 2009 — IPL – Good, Bad, or Ugly!

A Tear Drop, and A Scar!

Aniruddha — Sat, 23 Jan 2010 11:16:29 +0000

The apple of my eye
My darling sweetheart
I wish you spoke
I wish you told

How I wish I spoke
How I wish I cared
How I wish this was not just a wish
How I wish I had known

You still are my angel
My darling sweetheart
This body so blue
A tear drop and a scar

The lines above have been inspired by the recent suicide cases. It’s a cry from a mother to her child who has committed suicide.

The rise in the number of suicide cases by kids, teenagers, and even adults is a very sad reflection of what kind of pressures people in India are going through. I am not trying to justify the act, for I believe this is the most cowardly act one can do. However I would rather make that comment for adults than kids. For, according to me, it is the responsibility of parents to ensure their child is not taking too much stress.

If we look at kids, the constant pressure by parents for studying (rote learning, if you will) rather than discovering things is driving them crazy these days. To top it all the increasing competition that their parents have gone through, has hard wired into the brain of parents that, if their child does not go through the same rigor he will fail. That is not true; a parent should only facilitate, and allow the children to explore their own skills and help them with things they like to do, rather than force them to do something they don’t want to. the sad part is that some kids are just aping the act by reading suicide stories in the news, how I wish parents would explain it to them the implications of such an act. At an impressionable age, the kids need to be handled more carefully and parents ought to find some time out from their busy schedule for them. Kids just need a little comfort to tell them that someone cares for them and will be there when they need support the most. The current trend of both parents working has not helped the cause much. The child at home needs to release stress, and I hope parents realize this problem soon. Problem arises when parents are not even ready to accept that there is a problem, that their constant nagging is not helping the child. Being more sensitive and aware to the child’s need is the need of the hour.

The teens are undergoing another set of pressure to deal with. On one hand it’s the constant peer pressure to stay the coolest looking dude/dudette in college, and on the other hand is the constant pressure from parents to study. At times an extra push in terms of a failed relationship or failure in college is enough to drive them to commit suicide. I mean how does one explain the college students setting themselves on fire for the cause of Telangana? Sheer wicked politics to push these naive students into something like this. The only option left is to channelize the energy of youth into something which helps the society at large. You might laugh at the idea but I have seen the most degenerated of the teens being very passionate about working for the society; it does “give them a high”. There is immense talent available in these teens, and we, the society, fail every time we are unable to give them an environment to grow.

Adults committing suicide! Well how cowardly an act can it be to not think about your loved ones, read parents, kids, wife, brothers, sisters and a whole lot of bunch of friends? I am at a loss of words when I read about these suicide cases. There is just one beautiful life to live and they have not done any good to themselves by not fighting hard enough. One should always think about how fortunate they are to be living and having people around them who love them, because out there, there are probably millions who are not that fortunate.

Suicide is not a solution! If after reading this I have touched you, and some how made you think once again about the dreaded step, my job is done.

Image courtesy: spekulator from sxc.hu

Gone in 30 Seconds!

Soma Ghosh — Thu, 21 Jan 2010 10:31:26 +0000

“International aid workers fear the final death toll could top 200,000. About 250,000 more were injured and 1.5-million left homeless in the wake of last week’s disaster.” – Business Day (2010/01/19)

It was a quiet Wednesday morning in Mumbai, on the 13th of January. And all I will remember of that day will be a 31 sec video that ran on a loop on YouTube, showing a girl holding her mobile and looking out of her terrace in disbelief as the city beneath her had suddenly disappeared under a thick cloud of dust. A voice kept breaking down in the background, “the world is coming to an end”. She didn’t realize how true her words were, that their world had actually come crashing down.

Very soon, news had started to filter in from the western hemisphere about an earthquake in the island nation of Haiti. The quake hadn’t lasted beyond 30 seconds and when it was over, the earthquake of magnitude 7.0 on the Richter scale, had forever changed the landscape and the lives of more than two million people who inhabit the poor island nation.

Slowly the first pictures started to come in. A gray cloud of dust rose out of the rubble of the dilapidated buildings in the capital city of Port-au-Prince. Smoke rose in the distance as fire seemed to have flared up from devastated houses. There was shock and pain written on every face as the people tried to understand what had hit them. The air was filling up with wails of pain, angry screams, desperate cries for help. People were still in a daze, their faces a dusty gray and bloodied faces, looking around trying to find loved ones, friends, relatives, calling out names, helpless in the disaster. The quake torn streets were slowly stirring into action as people started to move away chunks of cement while some dug at the wreckage with their bare hands with the hope of saving some who may still be alive under the debris. Some school children stood in a huddle unable to understand how to find their way home or whether their homes were still standing where they had left them in the morning. People carried away bloodied bodies of loved ones, friends, relatives. And all this while no help had arrived, no police, no paramedics, no firemen – everybody was on their own.

The city thus lying in shambles happened to be just 6 miles away from the epicenter of the quake. And from the time after the major quake shook the city, 33 aftershocks had trembled underneath the city up to Thursday morning.

Elsewhere, the police headquarters had been razed to the ground. The Presidential Palace lay flattened to the ground, the headquarters of the UN peacekeeping mission had simply collapsed to the ground; hospitals, schools and residential buildings had caved in, rolled down ravines or lay in heaps of masonry. In places entire neighbourhoods were sleeping on the streets.

By Wednesday the body count had started to rise.The world was rushing in with aid. But with the devastated city the whole infrastructure seemed to have collapsed. Major roads were cut off, the port was damaged beyond repair and airports remained disconnected.

“Getting rescue and emergency medical help to those who needed it was proving, in the words of UN spokeswoman Elisabeth Byrs, “a logistical nightmare” – The Independent (Sunday, 17 January 2010).

An earthquake of this scale is no doubt a major calamity but not unheard of. But given the state of Haiti – where people languish without proper medical facilities in normal times – the disaster has made death an easier option. This desperately poor country, politically unstable, struggles to sustain its people. The people live more in despair than in hope – fulfilling basic needs – food, better education and medical facilities, are distant dreams – dictator after dictator has thwarted expectations of good governance.

The 200 years of history of the nation bares witness to a people struggling to live on under dictatorship and political unrest. The UN and some other aid agencies struggled day in and day out to keep some semblance of sanity in the overall aura of hopelessness. But with last Tuesday’s earthquake, the whole country has once more been plunged into darkness. The increasing body count, makeshift hospitals in parks, trucks converted into ambulances, mass graves for the rapidly decomposing bodies, the imminent epidemic following such disasters are just some of the problems on the surface. Even a week later the people still await the daunting task of slowly rebuilding Haiti.

Image courtesy : Reuters and AP

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