Chinese torture......... the Indian way!!

That is what was meted out to all the cricket fanatics in India. The Indian Cricket team is professional in that capacity. Bastards. They never looked like winning; what with the horrid body language, unbelievably insipid bowling attack, supremely sloppy fielding, and frustratingly underperforming batting. The so called medium pace bowlers, who are only spinners at best who bowl with an intended, yet not so upright seam, are out to prove their mettle by banging the ball in short. End result: dolly short pitches at waist height, which the most incapable of batsmen, that too West Indian, are able to dispatch to the boundaries with absolute disdain. Ronacko Morton displayed his world class batting skills, in the way he got dismissed. He was able to pitch his tent on the pitch and milk the Indian bowling attack. Strange that it should be called an attack. It was the most inept and artless of bowling performances. Pathan and Agarkar were spraying the balls all over the pitch. Maybe they thought the pitch wasn’t well rolled and took it upon themselves to do the needful and even it out by bowling all over it. Brilliant. Definitely, the Indians have been endowed with the trait of unconditional love. Most of the international players have their bests against India. Quite a reputation to uphold.. eh!

Fanatics we are, to sit and watch the entire match in the hope that these bungling fools can actually pull something off. Match fixing... not even a possibility. These guys don’t seem to be able to do anything at will. What was Dravid doing on the field? Is he the captain? I’d rather have a Ganguly on the field. However bad his form is; whatever flak he takes from the media, critics and a billion maniacal morons; he fights on the field as a captain. He expresses emotion. Mongia and More always made their presence felt with their incessant shouts of encouragement. Dhoni obviously thinks he’s a gentleman who’ll lose out on his ad-value if he shouts too much on the field. Get me eleven incapable players, who at least look passionate on the field, and I’ll be a lot happier.

And whenever there seems to be the slightest chance of victory, a sliver of hope, the Indians look upon it as a glorious chance to prove what spineless jerks they are: Yuvraj misfields, Raina drops a catch( not to be undone, Dravid joins in), Munaf sprawls prostrate on the field after the ball is well past him; while the skipper, Dravid looks askance hoping for some divine intervention. It’s like hearing that your mother passed away, a split second before you are about to climax.

I haven’t used more expletives. I haven’t felt more like tearing my hair off, stuffing the lump down my throat and then committing hara-kiri to pull it out.

Disclaimer : This post was written right after India lost hopelessly to the Windies. I was not in my senses then and this is an expression of my exasperation then.

Mushkil hi nahin….

Don ke Amitabh Bachchan ki nakal karna namumkin hai!!

Yes, I did see it. It’s one movie I didn’t want to miss whether I liked it or hated it. Somehow, I end up seeing all the SRK movies, though I strongly believe that his acting/over-acting skills leave a lot to be desired. I must admit that I recently saw the original Don, only so that I can criticize the new one. However, this is not only a SRK movie; it is a Farhan Akhtar movie. Had anyone else attempted to pull off this stunt of re-making(or remixing for that matter) an Amitabh “Angry-Young-Man” Bachchan movie, he would have been greeted by huge, rotten, stinking tomatoes at the box office. That Akhtar has done a good job of it, is undoubted. The most impressive thing is that he has presented Don in his own way. He put his own signature on it; and the entire movie didn’t end up looking like the horribly done “Khaike pan Benaraswala” song, with the unwanted extra beats, ungainly choreography, and a Shah Rukh trying very hard not to do a Shah Rukh, and worse still, attempt to do an Amitabh.

The old one was more about Vijay, the very vulnerable Don lookalike, who takes on a very dangerous mission, to provide for the kids that he had taken responsibility for. Needless to mention, Amitabh fitted that role to a T and endeared himself to the audience with his unimitable oily haired, kohl-eyed, pan-spitting, motormouthed, outrageously humorous persona. Akhtar just couldn’t have done without that character since it was central to the movie, and SRK, being himself, just couldn’t act the part. He did not look look rustic; the lungi had given way to denim. He did not look the kind who can eat a pan; and enjoy it. He could not spit the gob. And I will not get started on the half hearted attempt at a UP-Bhaiya accent.

The movie is slick. Period. Very fast-paced and very smooth. SRK did what he can do best: look cool. The modified screenplay and camera-work gave the movie the action movie look that it promised to have; what with the matrix rip-off green promos. The background score was very Hollywood; the heavy guitars, the furious drumming and the racy beats. Very much like the original Don, the theme music was always at the centre of all the different arrangements. Kudos to Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy. Finally we do see a breed of music directors other than the God - AR Rehman, doing very good work indeed.

Now, Akhtar did bend the story a bit here and there. Mostly, to remove the fantastical heroics that our heroes used to pull off so effortlessly. I really have to describe my favourite from the old Don – the tight rope act by Pran:

[Drum Roll…]
Heavy voice over the PA :
Witness the most courageous act of all times…
A cripple walks a tight rope between two high-rise buildings with no safety measures…
What’s more…. he carries two half-full grown children in his arms…
With baddies sawing away furiously at the rope…
Can he make it???
Preeeeeeeeesenting JJ
[Drum Roll.. Followed by a more elaborate drum roll]

The reason for the big twist of not killing the original Don was to give SRK leeway to act the way he does. So that he can smirk, croak, stammer, fight, and flirt, all in his way. Give him a role where he has the free license to do all these, and you have an entertainer on your hands, i.e. if you are a SRK fan. For others like me, suppress a giggle or two, shake your head a couple of times, let out an abuse maybe... and enjoy the show. A well made movie, with actors doing their role well. Priyanka Chopra looks hot enough to replace Zeenat Amaan and thankfully has lesser fight sequences, where she doesn’t have to use The Chop Style of karate to kick the butts of 20 goons at a time. Boman Irani hasn’t done many flawed roles, and this surely isn’t one. Arjun Rampal does his bit as JJ. Kareena/Kariena/Karina Kapoor, the aspiring WWF challenger, does well to show her beefy arms and thighs off. Helen would be shaking her head and going tch tch... Even in this era of definitive item numbers, we can have such a shoddy performance. Om Puri gets a very small role since Malik’s character lost favour with Akhtar. SRK…. haven’t I spoken enough about his acting prowess…

The last thing I want to talk about is the smoking bit. This is how we bend rules in India. They are not allowed to show actors smoke onscreen. So our hero exhales clouds of smoke, flicks the cigarette away in style and talks about kicking the habit. Done!!
Kya bhai…. hum to kanoon ke dayre mein hi hein.. kyon??.. aaain!!

Fixali

Type Diwali on the keypad of your mobile phone in the T9 mode…

Diwali was nice. But Diwali should be celebrated at home… Lighting the dias, away from family, makes you feel hollow. You can make a million phone calls back home but you can never get the same feeling. Things that you never thought about much when you used to stay at home start coming back to you now. Things I could never imagine doing on my own are being done now. I surprised mummy, very pleasantly at that, when I called her on choti-diwali night and told her that I lit 11 dias.

This time we decided to celebrate diwali the good old way; with a lot of fire-crackers. That meant taking a trip to Hosur and purchasing them. Well, entire Bangalore did exactly that. The moment we crossed the Karnataka-Tamil Nadu border, we saw these myriad make-shift shops selling truckloads of crackers. People were carting these away in unbelievable quantities. We got our share and braved the chaotic traffic on Hosur road, in the sweltering afternnon, to get back all tired, yet satisfied. It was totally worth it. It felt great to burst crackers after such a long time. The child-like excitement seen in the professional 23 year-olds, smoking, talking about work and money, tells you they are still kids.

The famous ful-jhari art!! Sidhu and I were up to some antics on the roof while bursting fire crackers. He got really camera happy out there, and the outcome was some really memorable pics.

Acute CAT-atonia

Weekends are relaxation no more. It’s not the best feeling to forgo the friday/saturday booze party with the guys. But as they say, a man’s got to do what a man’s got to do. Weekends mean studying on Saturday(though I haven’t really been doing much of that). Weekends mean Sunday Morning Mock. It has more or less become a habit over the past couple of months. Yes.. habit. Now that’s a scary thought. You don’t want anything to do with CAT become a habit. It just might mean the monotony starts eclipsing the nimbleness. And I have been guilty of that very often. That really gives me the heebie-jeebies. I am talking about that spell of boredom that creeps in right in the middle of those 150 minutes, in which you have to rev up the mental machinery to perform at its optimum, if not better. I have always been the day-dreamer who just looks out of the window to see the very same leaf of the very same tree rustle in the very same way hour after hour, while sitting on the study-table. It’s a hard habit to kick. Though I must agree that I have worked on it and things are better. But are they good enough?? Ah.. the question of ‘good enough’. I have lost count of the times when I think that, well ok, I have done/achieved X; but is this good enough?? Let’s face it. I have pitted myself against the best brains/most industrious souls in the country that boasts of arguably the highest grey-matter reserves(yes, I do talk of it as a commodity. We’ll get into more of this some other time). And I don’t really have to get into the competitiveness of the exam. The odds are depressing, to say the least.

Getting back to the issue of boredom. It strikes at the very time when it shouldn’t: when I probably haven’t started off too well. Where I should be attacking the paper more feverishly. On the one hand, I want to take as many mocks as possible; as the age old adage goes, there’s nothing like match practice. On the other, I am worried if I am taking it too far by taking two mocks per week. I feel the need to do it since the only real bit of studying I end up doing is analyzing the paper. Hence, my effort/week is getting doubled, though it should be ten-fold now.
Another thing that really matters is, how you feel on that day; two minutes ahead of the gun-shot. On some days I just know that it’s going to be a wasted exercise. And voila... a new low, in terms of percentiles, is, successfully, hit.

I really should stop talking about this stuff now. I am suffering from acute CATatonia!!( a kind of schizophrenic disorder) Happy thoughts Ankit….

I feel pretty,
Oh, so pretty,
I feel pretty and witty and bright!
And I pity…
[Courtesy – Anger Management]

Really.. The Drift..

Well.. I didn't quite get to the drift in the previous post. I started with the talks about Ranchi to get a starting point from where I would talk wbout what I had in mind initially. Clearly I drifted. The fond memories came back to me and I really had a good time reminiscing those days while writing it down.

Back to the topic.. During one of those aforementioned picnics, a dark, long, rough-surfaced object was spotted floating in water. Much to my disappointment, it was not a fierce crocodile. It was an innocuous floating old log: driftwood. It was a hollow trunk, which was meandering lazily along the stream. The surface was covered with soft moss could have easily been mistaken for a wet carpet. Though one touch of its surface immediately evoked a sound of euuu/yuck from the innards. We played with it for a bit and then forgot about it. Later, while sitting on the scattered rounded rocks, eating, we noticed that it had floated a long way away along the stream.

Why I talk about driftwood? Over some time I have started to liken myself to it. The bliss of drifting is great. Just throw your legs up, paddle your hands gently, and hear the water lapping against your ears. It’s very much that. It is sitting in the midst of everything and absorbing the sights and sounds. It is all about going with the flow. I have done that through school and college landed myself a software job, like almost all others I know.

Why I talk about driftwood? It drifts no more. I have decided to take on the currents. Maybe, out of utter boredom of just drifting about. Remember the talk about all the moss on the wood and the synonymous yuck. Its time to shed the shoddy garb, and let the mettle shine through. Are these words too strong? I don’t care; I feel strongly about this. It’s an altogether different kind of high you get when you put your heart and soul into something. Aye there’s the rub!!

Come again.. Pardon.. Sorry, what was that again.. Am I hearing things.. maybe I am too drunk.. You spoke of a high; are we in for yet another binge… That’s the miniature me, dressed in a white robe, who pops up in a little puff every time I have such thoughts. He mocks me. The other miniature me, red-skinned, with little horns and a swishing pointy tail, just sits there with a smug look. He knows that the little angel just gets little-er by the day. He knows that the angel has given up all hope and instead of egging me on; he has decided to make fun of me. If you can’t beat them, join them!!

Mr. Pesky Little Devil would you please take a hike. Its time I had a chat with Mr. Innocent Little Angel. Its time to get out of the laid back lifestyle where days just grow into months and they in turn amass to form years and just go by without having any effect. Time to bring in the days when every minute counts and every day is accounted for. Time to prepare for CAT. Watch this space, for this will be my CAT-alogue: A back breaking attempt to study.

PS: The prep has already begun. Will talk about the past, present and the future, or the lack of it??

Get the drift??

I remember those days(more than a decade ago) when we used to go for these picnics, in and around Ranchi. That place was really blessed with many waterfalls(Dasham, Hundru Hirni.. some of the names I remember). And there is this place called Panch Ghat. Anyone who has been there will vouch that it is a near perfect "picnic spot": a tranquil stream cornering the soft bends, crystal clear waters - knee-deep at best, soft powdery river bed. It was just the right place for our parents to let lose their brats and not worry much. I say that since the other mighty waterfalls are guilty of frequent fatal accidents. Dasham falls is especially notorious for gobbling at least one hapless soul, who would have dived right into the base of the fall in a show of extreme bravado only to be crushed by the majestic force of the falling waters, every year. No wonder the parents were concerned about the safety factor of the picnic spot as such.

A drive for a couple of hours, nonetheless, on roads that would put the lunar surface to shame(Lalu zindabaad!!), would take us to these watery havens, where we would let ourselves go wild: diving, floating, swimming, splashing, bubble-babbling(aka going under-water with lungfulls of air and letting out huge bubbles/or even letting out screams in those bubbles). We would just refuse to get out of the water. We would hungrily wolf down the sandwiches or parantha-achar rolls that were handed by the mummys on the shore who were merrily catching up on the gossip while nonchalantly conjuring up those easy-to-eat treats for us. There would be a casual call to the kids to be careful which we would reply to in the affirmative, only to resume our activites.

The papas would be in the water with us, hence we would try to edge our way out of there sight, to get some "real" adventure. Mind you, we were 'young men'(we would try to leave the girls behind) and we were true adventure seekers. we obviously had to find out the where the silent stream would scream down the jagged rocks to break into a deadly waterfall. We had to find the deepest spot in the water where we could not touch the bed with our feet and put our recently acquired swimming skills, in the club pool, to good use. We had to search for the dangerous aquatic animals. we would have given anything to see a crocodile. Ever thought, how exciting a story that would make - to share with our school-mates the following day. With all these thoughts in our heads, we would forge ahead surreptitiously with a gleam of excitement in the eyes.

"Get back here.. you are going too far", sounds a booming baritone. The echo adds to the effect.

"But uncle.. we are only here.. we'll be back in a jiffy.. something out there looks exciting..", replies a sugary tone. Lot of hope there. Rule of the thumb, of course, was to make sure one doesn't reply to one's own parent. The uncle/aunty effect was needed.

"Tinku.. back here.. NOW", with an extra boom. Damn the echo. The voice had just got personal.

"Haannnn........", trailing squeak. Had one tried to measure the decibels on that one, he/she would have got an award for discovering a sound with the lowest value ever.

We would come trooping back with sullen faces.. the sticks that would have aided us in our adventure had been disposed of or were being dragged behind us like dead bodies. we were carrying our dead adventurous spirt with us. Another splash in the water and everything would be fine again. Kids.. they are only sad till something else catches their fancy. And there is never a shortage of such things in the open outdoors.

It has begun...

Finally I start blogging. And i don't like the fact that this editor is not smart enough to make the i a little more assertive(read capital I). And, well, i am too lazy to do that. Or i am too used to not doing that - thanks to MSWord.

Blogging... everyone seems to be doing it and i have been contemplating doing the same for a long time now. Why i haven't done it yet? Guess i used to think too much about would it should be like. Should it be timpass or serious; describe daily activities or pen down the motley random musings; should it be grammatically/politically/theologically/lexically correct.

And i finally end up writting my first blog with a throbbing head, thanks to mid-week booze compounded with very little sleep. Its not the best feeling to sleep at night knowing you have to get up at 6:15 and catch the company shuttle at 7:25, that too after a good 1 km walk from your place. Of course a morning walk, though forced, is good for health. Its even better if its a brisk one or if it then develops into a jog, after frequent frantic glances at the watch, and eventually culminates in a sprint as the bus is seen pulling out of the pick-up point.

Today i managed to break all records. I woke up at 07:08; brushed my teeth by 07:10; dressed up by 07:13; bathed myself in deo, wet my hair and combed by 07:15; wore one shoe by 07:16; searched for the other one in a mound of footwear by 07:19 (yes... Murphy's law); its 7:20 as i jumped down the stairs; i walked with increasing stride; broke into a jog; consult the watch - 7:23; Run Forrest run. Thankfully, the bus comes from the opposite side and the driver spots me running towards the crossing as the bus approaches it. Wasn't worth it if you ask me. Should have just stayed in bed and called in sick; i'd rather shit at home....