Welcome to Big Bass 3 , the show which promises you the same stink that comes from the 'doosron ka ghar main jhak ke dekho' kind of enthusiasm and treads a mile away from the 'ghar ek mandir hai' kind of sentimentalism we have had to bear during our early formative years.
We would like to extend a special warm 'wink wink, nudge nudge, fondle fondle' kind of welcome to all the participants who range from singers, to out of work actors, busty vixens, drag designers and amma's, who are all obviously honorary students of the 'drama shama' school of catty culture, endowed to eke their way in this world with special electives like screechiness, bitchy gossip, 'tukda tukda' reveleations and over the top histronics, just the kind of necessary ingredient this show demands.
For those who have sat down with their parivars or mistresses to watch this aesthetic amalgam of freakiness and paranormal conversation, remember this is a once in a lifetime experience you wouldn’t want to miss. And this time round the show is bigger and way bustier just so that you know that 'size does matter'. There's the heady concoction of Big B, followed by the bulge of bigger bucks and finally some more bigger B___'s , no thanks to our indigenous and indestructible 'twin assets' like sizzling shamita and shameless sheryln, and the erotic-export of bigger assets like claudia who adds twin benefits to the show and has the ubiquitous distinction of having paralysed half of calcutta with demonstrations of her cleavage. These days she is also salman bhai's 'bosom' pal ! Armed with the promise of finite silicone and infinite silly con's, big bass shall render all the 'tamasha' that will generate TRP and will put the show 'abreast' of all other reality formats that we acknowledge.
Now lets look at the other participants just so you know, there will be no compromise.
First of we have jaya sawant, the mother of an out of the world phenomenon called rakhi sawant - her darling daughter whos a by-product of western raunchiness and indian 'fluttering eye' demurness, and is currently the queen of the tele. So famous is she that she has her own celestial season called as 'rakhi purnima'! Now being her mom jaya proved her mettle with her emosional act in the presence of big B, who was clearly as enchanted as he was during silsila, glazed eyes and all. Her love dripping, sugar sweet saccrihine demonstration of reverence and respect, will remain an act that even the other jaya will find hard to beat.
Then there's 'jug jug jiyoooo' sheryln chopra whose claim to fame has been in the oscar deserving indian erotica movie 'swastika', a few music videos which had less to do with singing and more to do with her wildly cavorting on silk satin bedspreads, pole dancing and the 'in control' act with chains and other dominatrix stuff. Also pay close attention to her sartorial sense of dressing, mostly in next to nothings, which has been found screaming from bold magazines and bolder online sites, making her a worthy opponent of the 'shettinad' sizzler shamita who has credentials as an established 'rear-jerker' and can give anyone a run for their 'cash'. After all, her sister did the 'goody' act and won the UK series of the same show. And her life changed forever. No longer known as 'akshay pet peeve' she carved her own curves and curries and now relives the days of the 'raj'. Her sister shamita, already famous among the wolf whistlers in the front row needs to take her cheap tricks further and big bass raises just the kind of stink.
As for the others, well they are all unique in their own way and apt for this range of man, woman and transsexual bonding, the show demands.
We have phoonam dhillon, actress of the yesteryears, who was last seen attending boring kitty parties, store openings and looking like an opulent mom.
We have aditi gowitrikar who made 'gladrags' of our adolescence posing in pretty nothings, turned men out of us and now ranks high in the 'milf' factor. To her we are grateful.
There's tanaz irani and her husband bakhtiyar, who are the magical vivek mushrans of the tele circle, vanishing faster than you can say 'jumpin jeshophat'. Last seen, tanaz was in gaudy make up and garish dress, for a prevent pregnancy ad and looked like just the kind of advocate no one would ever listen to. As for bakhtiyar, the lesser said, the better since even my breakfast has more credentials.
For apparent sing song there's ismail durbar has come to croon for money, his earlier works so yesterday
Then there's this assortment of other freaks and loosers like comedian Raju Srivastav who's fan base comprise of those hailing from small towns , mofussils and smaller villages, his jokes less funny and more vulgar, his attempt at rib tickling comedy, a mating match of facial contortions with compulsive dehati grin, carefully designed to be forever cheap and slapworthy.
Not to be left out is the total 'desdrohi' kamal r khan, the keane reeves of bhojpuri cinema, the famed land that has given us classics movies like “Biharwa Inc”, just the ideal person to get into the minds of the “small town” boys from Durg and Kanpur and Nagpur who I am positive sure form the majority of the viewers. Kamal wrote, acted and directed in one of the worst hindi flicks ever and delivered complete 'bakchodi' lines like “Aye inspector, mera naam Raj Kumar Singh Yadav hain aur Yadav sirf raja hota hain, bhikari kabhi naheen banta! Whatever.
Let us not forget the final participant 'designer kum drag zaada' Rohit verma, a fashion designer so gay that everyone seems happy. Thanks to his ostensibly effeminate self that he has already created a stir amongst those who like things in the middle. Clever move that. The producers have left nothing to chance having endorsed the 'chakka bhi pakka dekhega' type of new age, money spinning proposition.
As part of the very same socially and culturally conscious veiwers, the ones who have nothing better to do at home than watch the stink and occasionally shout out loud for things to get done while we are conveniently lazy assed, big bass, the show, I am sure will be more surreal than dali, and more anti convention as bras that double up as gas masks. The main reason I will watch the show is the possibility of speculation about what will happen next.
Will sheryln shed her clothes and scrub the floor? Will shamita teach young girls a thing or two on booty shake? Will Ravi verma find love in this fantasyland of freaks? Would kamal khan break into an impromtu dialogue delivery in english, a language he has no clue exists? Will rakhi sawants mom beat 'sehwag ki maa' kind of folk lore?
All this and much more, I want to watch and so should you. As breast as you can. Big Bass is here……stink with it.
Friday, October 9, 2009
Durga Puja not Pujo
Durga Puja not Pujo, in Hyderabad is there but not quite. Here it is just a 'sample' event, a 'mukhra', a concession if I may, of a more original, better, bigger pujo that may be happening somewhere else. This is a small snippet, a mereness, a little something doled out for a community whose numbers have grown exponentially over the years. Pujo here is a wee bit for the bongo sontans this side of the deccan.
No in its structure, its not vastly different.At one level all pujos I believe resound the same values, espouse the same excitement. Its still the usual 'guto guti' amidst 'ghame bhora' crowds milling to do the 'nomo nomo' for her highness. Its still the usual grimace of getting your feet nicely grated amongst random shifting weights of overexcited bengalis who will ensure that the woes of your toes remain excruciatingly painful. Its still the usual bordeom and brain fry associated with watching the pujo patrons children and wives doing 'abritti' and dancing in gay abandon to some rabindra sangeet in some special show that even dignify delusions! Its still the usual dialogue of how the juboks of that particular pujo, who all look like disinterested youths, are the future of bengalis the world over! Its still the disgust of watching mammoth mashis with big bindis and bigger teeth, their dresses glittering with gory grandeur. Mashis who will stop you intermittently from weaning through the crowd. And in their attempt, will spill food on your new kurta, only to reprimand and dismiss you like a fly as if you deserved it ! You will be blinded by their fury if not by their extra gold and diamonds bedazzling you out of your wits. You will also meet the occasional cholai khors, the penny pinching pocket maars, the boisterous boudi baj's and the fully faltu futo mostaans albiet deccani styled. You may perchance upon teenagers with cholis and sarees or the more adult, boudi hugging tshirt types. You may meet the same stalls advertising the same wares and steaming the same smoke and stoking a similar fire. But its still not the same.
For what is a durgo pujo without the full volume clamour and cacophony that is a culmination of the age old , tried and tested, calcutta style kaorami. What is durgo pujo without the broadcast over mike about lost children and lost ma baba's! Or the "organisers only" special drinking zone. What is durgo pujo when you don’t have to greet your known ones only to have lost them within minutes, amongst the millions who have gathered.
Here the people arrive in smaller spaces with big cars, carrying bigger purses. They attend for some time, do the customary nomoskars and drive off to the nearest KFC before you've had the chance to blink. On the way out, they pick up some mishti doi to convince their souls of a performance well done. Sometimes they come with some non bengali friends, show them the place like some real estate stooge, and move on, the property having been inspected. At other times they gather in a group and dance together to popular dhinchak 'bangali' songs showing off their latest pelvic possibilities with utter disdain to other's sense and sensibilities. This is what we get here. It's not the durgo pujo I have had as a child, tense with anticipation, bursting with joy. Its not my old durga pujo, the one where I would pester my mom to take me shopping a month in advance so that I get the best pick. The one where me and my friends would gather in our finest attires on day one to catch the 'dhaki' do a special number for us!
But since all this gets boring I sit and and listen to the buzz around, to stories of porn murmured excitedly by a bunch of teenagers (eyi tui europer dvd ta dibi? ), thesis on kolkata politics (ekhon ki hobe deshe) to discussions on the current rate of hilsa in the local market (koto taka cholche re kolkatay?). Animated discussions on a varied of topics also range from vacation plans to land prices and the future of Infra or IT !!! Groups of oldies talk of 'their days that year' and the not so olds 'middle world' types get busy with their children running amok like rabbits in the middle of a speedway!
And around this time, my mind stops becoming a dot and starts walking. It reaches lake gardens where we had so much fun during these days of festivity. Where once I chased a parar girl only to be told she was 5 years elder and a parar dada's 'so what' serious advice to me "jodi hoye tor boyse boro, pronam kore lege poro" ! Or the other time we fed piss to one of the juniors ribbing him that it was beer. He even acted drunk! And of that time when we were eyeing this girl only to be explained rather sternly by a friend that it happened to be his cousin sister!!! And our inglorious attempt to look elsewhere, our emotions, a knot between apology and euphoria. Or say the other time when we smoked ciggies on our terrace, a whole bunch of us, save one, who kept crying because he couldn’t see all of us indulging in this sin!
I am jolted back to now, when some unknown face asks me in broken hindi 'yeh chair aapko chaiye'. It could also have been telegu. I move aside realizing I was flipping through time sitting like this, reminiscing about the days gone by, connecting the dots of a past and its presences. I look around hoping no one catches me looking so lost. I step out and stand on the curb and forget the car which is parked a little ahead and almost start walking! Back in the day, it would usually take three lanes to reach my place. But that was in Lake Gardens. That was in Calcutta. That isnt here. This is different!
No in its structure, its not vastly different.At one level all pujos I believe resound the same values, espouse the same excitement. Its still the usual 'guto guti' amidst 'ghame bhora' crowds milling to do the 'nomo nomo' for her highness. Its still the usual grimace of getting your feet nicely grated amongst random shifting weights of overexcited bengalis who will ensure that the woes of your toes remain excruciatingly painful. Its still the usual bordeom and brain fry associated with watching the pujo patrons children and wives doing 'abritti' and dancing in gay abandon to some rabindra sangeet in some special show that even dignify delusions! Its still the usual dialogue of how the juboks of that particular pujo, who all look like disinterested youths, are the future of bengalis the world over! Its still the disgust of watching mammoth mashis with big bindis and bigger teeth, their dresses glittering with gory grandeur. Mashis who will stop you intermittently from weaning through the crowd. And in their attempt, will spill food on your new kurta, only to reprimand and dismiss you like a fly as if you deserved it ! You will be blinded by their fury if not by their extra gold and diamonds bedazzling you out of your wits. You will also meet the occasional cholai khors, the penny pinching pocket maars, the boisterous boudi baj's and the fully faltu futo mostaans albiet deccani styled. You may perchance upon teenagers with cholis and sarees or the more adult, boudi hugging tshirt types. You may meet the same stalls advertising the same wares and steaming the same smoke and stoking a similar fire. But its still not the same.
For what is a durgo pujo without the full volume clamour and cacophony that is a culmination of the age old , tried and tested, calcutta style kaorami. What is durgo pujo without the broadcast over mike about lost children and lost ma baba's! Or the "organisers only" special drinking zone. What is durgo pujo when you don’t have to greet your known ones only to have lost them within minutes, amongst the millions who have gathered.
Here the people arrive in smaller spaces with big cars, carrying bigger purses. They attend for some time, do the customary nomoskars and drive off to the nearest KFC before you've had the chance to blink. On the way out, they pick up some mishti doi to convince their souls of a performance well done. Sometimes they come with some non bengali friends, show them the place like some real estate stooge, and move on, the property having been inspected. At other times they gather in a group and dance together to popular dhinchak 'bangali' songs showing off their latest pelvic possibilities with utter disdain to other's sense and sensibilities. This is what we get here. It's not the durgo pujo I have had as a child, tense with anticipation, bursting with joy. Its not my old durga pujo, the one where I would pester my mom to take me shopping a month in advance so that I get the best pick. The one where me and my friends would gather in our finest attires on day one to catch the 'dhaki' do a special number for us!
But since all this gets boring I sit and and listen to the buzz around, to stories of porn murmured excitedly by a bunch of teenagers (eyi tui europer dvd ta dibi? ), thesis on kolkata politics (ekhon ki hobe deshe) to discussions on the current rate of hilsa in the local market (koto taka cholche re kolkatay?). Animated discussions on a varied of topics also range from vacation plans to land prices and the future of Infra or IT !!! Groups of oldies talk of 'their days that year' and the not so olds 'middle world' types get busy with their children running amok like rabbits in the middle of a speedway!
And around this time, my mind stops becoming a dot and starts walking. It reaches lake gardens where we had so much fun during these days of festivity. Where once I chased a parar girl only to be told she was 5 years elder and a parar dada's 'so what' serious advice to me "jodi hoye tor boyse boro, pronam kore lege poro" ! Or the other time we fed piss to one of the juniors ribbing him that it was beer. He even acted drunk! And of that time when we were eyeing this girl only to be explained rather sternly by a friend that it happened to be his cousin sister!!! And our inglorious attempt to look elsewhere, our emotions, a knot between apology and euphoria. Or say the other time when we smoked ciggies on our terrace, a whole bunch of us, save one, who kept crying because he couldn’t see all of us indulging in this sin!
I am jolted back to now, when some unknown face asks me in broken hindi 'yeh chair aapko chaiye'. It could also have been telegu. I move aside realizing I was flipping through time sitting like this, reminiscing about the days gone by, connecting the dots of a past and its presences. I look around hoping no one catches me looking so lost. I step out and stand on the curb and forget the car which is parked a little ahead and almost start walking! Back in the day, it would usually take three lanes to reach my place. But that was in Lake Gardens. That was in Calcutta. That isnt here. This is different!
All hail villainy: bujhecho sonamuni
The era of the 70’s and 80’s was good for villains. Phillums had storylines straight and simple, and plots were as old as the hills. You could arrive with ‘chunnu munnu’ during the interval and still comprehend the entire film. Plus you had 3 hrs or more to work it all out. And villains then were king sized bad asses who had first hand cool acronyms like JK, DK etc and the second most coveted role. They had their own versions of the sneer, leer and jeer, very distinct dialogue delivery styles, and idiotic ‘kanoon ke rakhwale’ heroes who chased them for ‘badla’, or ‘zulm’, or to protect the ‘adarshwadi bharatiya nari’s’ namely his mom, sister or the heroine.
Villains could deliver their buffet of histrionics by easily choosing from 2-3 wigs/mustachios, 4-5 costumes, 1-2 emotions and 5-6 fight moves to make menace. They also had unrelentless supply of vixens with blonde wigs, dollops of help from goons in jeeps, mole faced henchmen and a minimum of one attempted rape scene which were depicted through somber Indian symbolism like broken bangles or ‘pinjre main kaid’ birds who would flutter furiously as if bappi lahiri had attacked them!
The badmashes would be often discovered cavorting in an obscenely floral printed house coat, whisky in hand or wearing leather jackets to hide their pot bellied rise to the top of the crime syndicate. They also hogged lots of screen space until the police would arrive ceremoniously late and mumble inane stuff like ‘hands up, you are under arrest’. Villains by then would have finished serving ‘on the house’ memorable lines like Amjad Khan’s ‘arre yeh samba’, loin Ajit’s one liners, Gulshang’s ‘baaad maaan’ sneer, Shakti Kapoor’s sexed up ‘aaaaoo lolita’ and Danny’s ‘mera naam hai cheena’ demon-strations.
Later, with new found NRI audiences, trendy multiplexes, changing economics of the movie trade, lesser underworld intervention and a taste for better production quality, the ‘villain –hero’ face off formulae was lost amidst the unwanted clamour of love stories, foreign locales, family plots, marwari marriage sing-songs, glitzy dress n glamour dances or heroes who wore the mantle of villainy. Gone were the kaancha cheena’s, dead were the mogambo’s. Until now……
For with Kaminey, good ol villainy is back with a bong! Yes that’s right. The ‘B’ in Bollywood is actually for Bongland, acknowledging our contribution, our endless list of directors, musicians, writers, art directors, buxom babes and some bhery successful heroes, all of who, have played an imp part in it’s illustrated history.
All that was missing in our contributors list was a villain. And then…
…Vishal Bharadwajda’s commercial movie happened and got the ‘kamineys’ together. My eyes were filled with tears of joy at the sight of the tweed coat wearing bong brothers, true to the soil, sons of guns, who hold a bazooka in a way that even gets the Taliban cheering. Aaah, the sight of menacing Bengali’s. And sweet as bongs are, their lines laced with homemade sign offs like ‘sonamuni’, so that you your mother and her mother, can watch it together, make the movie even more enjoyable. Evil has never looked so angelic.
The last known original villain for most Bengalis across the globe was our evergreen mythological ‘eebheelaar than eebheel’ Mohisashur. He had a field run causing untold misery till ma durga took him down. A void was thus left that was never filled. Unworthy successors had tried like our very own ‘aaccchaaa’ Utpal dutt who played villain a few times but other than the lame attempt at lecherousness and a few rolling of eyes to indicate superficial anger, there wasn’t much meat. Mithunda too did a bit but since his idea of villainy was inclined towards doing a pelvic thrusting ‘I am Bad, I am Bad’, it didn’t cut much ice as a top notch baddie either.
To add to our woes our real bongo villains never left town. Sure we had a long list of characters back home who could qualify for the role of ultimate badness like jyoti bosu whose name once used to send shivers down ‘to be born’ babies, knowing fully well , he would send out his cadres to the womb if need be to get his orders heard. Or say mamta banerji who’s one shout is enough to send industrialists and progress seeking citizens whimpering like school children who’ve just been reprimanded. But none of them ever had the time to get into movies. Bengal provides far more fertile opportunities to let their villainy fester, you see. And bengals boss was therefore bollywood’s loss. Till the cameo was made with kaminey…
Kaminey in that sense is a path breaking movie. It showed how hindi filmmakers can artificially inseminate tarantino’esque style storytelling while retaining the old grain of ‘judwa’ness or ‘bhai-bhai’ness and stretch it with a little lynch to go a long way in creating the mass hysteria and hype this movie has generated. And while the nation can ooh aah at shahid or whatever, it’s the bong villains who stand out…ushering in a new era …a new dr dang ….and hopefully a new found villain for bollywood.
Hail the arrival of the dushtulok. Bujecho sonamuni!
Villains could deliver their buffet of histrionics by easily choosing from 2-3 wigs/mustachios, 4-5 costumes, 1-2 emotions and 5-6 fight moves to make menace. They also had unrelentless supply of vixens with blonde wigs, dollops of help from goons in jeeps, mole faced henchmen and a minimum of one attempted rape scene which were depicted through somber Indian symbolism like broken bangles or ‘pinjre main kaid’ birds who would flutter furiously as if bappi lahiri had attacked them!
The badmashes would be often discovered cavorting in an obscenely floral printed house coat, whisky in hand or wearing leather jackets to hide their pot bellied rise to the top of the crime syndicate. They also hogged lots of screen space until the police would arrive ceremoniously late and mumble inane stuff like ‘hands up, you are under arrest’. Villains by then would have finished serving ‘on the house’ memorable lines like Amjad Khan’s ‘arre yeh samba’, loin Ajit’s one liners, Gulshang’s ‘baaad maaan’ sneer, Shakti Kapoor’s sexed up ‘aaaaoo lolita’ and Danny’s ‘mera naam hai cheena’ demon-strations.
Later, with new found NRI audiences, trendy multiplexes, changing economics of the movie trade, lesser underworld intervention and a taste for better production quality, the ‘villain –hero’ face off formulae was lost amidst the unwanted clamour of love stories, foreign locales, family plots, marwari marriage sing-songs, glitzy dress n glamour dances or heroes who wore the mantle of villainy. Gone were the kaancha cheena’s, dead were the mogambo’s. Until now……
For with Kaminey, good ol villainy is back with a bong! Yes that’s right. The ‘B’ in Bollywood is actually for Bongland, acknowledging our contribution, our endless list of directors, musicians, writers, art directors, buxom babes and some bhery successful heroes, all of who, have played an imp part in it’s illustrated history.
All that was missing in our contributors list was a villain. And then…
…Vishal Bharadwajda’s commercial movie happened and got the ‘kamineys’ together. My eyes were filled with tears of joy at the sight of the tweed coat wearing bong brothers, true to the soil, sons of guns, who hold a bazooka in a way that even gets the Taliban cheering. Aaah, the sight of menacing Bengali’s. And sweet as bongs are, their lines laced with homemade sign offs like ‘sonamuni’, so that you your mother and her mother, can watch it together, make the movie even more enjoyable. Evil has never looked so angelic.
The last known original villain for most Bengalis across the globe was our evergreen mythological ‘eebheelaar than eebheel’ Mohisashur. He had a field run causing untold misery till ma durga took him down. A void was thus left that was never filled. Unworthy successors had tried like our very own ‘aaccchaaa’ Utpal dutt who played villain a few times but other than the lame attempt at lecherousness and a few rolling of eyes to indicate superficial anger, there wasn’t much meat. Mithunda too did a bit but since his idea of villainy was inclined towards doing a pelvic thrusting ‘I am Bad, I am Bad’, it didn’t cut much ice as a top notch baddie either.
To add to our woes our real bongo villains never left town. Sure we had a long list of characters back home who could qualify for the role of ultimate badness like jyoti bosu whose name once used to send shivers down ‘to be born’ babies, knowing fully well , he would send out his cadres to the womb if need be to get his orders heard. Or say mamta banerji who’s one shout is enough to send industrialists and progress seeking citizens whimpering like school children who’ve just been reprimanded. But none of them ever had the time to get into movies. Bengal provides far more fertile opportunities to let their villainy fester, you see. And bengals boss was therefore bollywood’s loss. Till the cameo was made with kaminey…
Kaminey in that sense is a path breaking movie. It showed how hindi filmmakers can artificially inseminate tarantino’esque style storytelling while retaining the old grain of ‘judwa’ness or ‘bhai-bhai’ness and stretch it with a little lynch to go a long way in creating the mass hysteria and hype this movie has generated. And while the nation can ooh aah at shahid or whatever, it’s the bong villains who stand out…ushering in a new era …a new dr dang ….and hopefully a new found villain for bollywood.
Hail the arrival of the dushtulok. Bujecho sonamuni!
Phootball : our favorite pheel good phactor
Commentator 1: Welcome to the first game of the ‘Bishakto Bostir Cheles’ VS ‘Jaacchetai Jubok Songho ’, bought to you live by Zee TV Bangla and sponsored by the Vedic Village club. Let me tell you that the atmosphere is just magical. Come let’s have a sip of this chullu!
Commentator 2: Aaaah …ki je korcho tenida? Anyways who would have thought that after the whole world stopped thinking or even talking about Bengal football, which includes our ‘truant’ ‘raised at home’ ‘devils own’ teenagers who would rather watch the English or Spanish league, or even our Mohan Bagan or East Bengal supporters, whose once legendary hatred would make ‘the shia and the sunnis’ look like peace keeping units, that this match has been organized in such a large scale and with so much fanfare. This is the best thing in a decade, the closest parallel being the ‘Ponchanontala Premier League’ that became defunct years ago when a fight ensued that rendered….er…anyways, the audience has come from all parts of 24 paraganas and beyond, dressed in their finely tailored kurtas from Ranaghat with matching flared jeans exquisitely manufactured from Bosetala. Let me tell you that all spectators have been thoroughly searched given the importance and sensitivity of the match--you should have seen the number of small arms they had to confiscate outside the sign at the gate that said “No petos, dodoma’s, katta’s, petrol bomb, matchboxes, moon moon sen photos torn off old magazines, filter less cigarettes, plastic water bottles, riya sen mms, bappi lahiri CD’s and Marxist literature allowed”.
Commentator 1: Exactly. And it’s not as if we do not have international teams this time. There is the Bangladesh team who just crossed the border illegally today morning. And one from Nepal as well who I hear is extremely good with the defense
Commentator 2 : ……..and why not? From what I hear, they are all cooks and night watchmen’s and their defense has been the strongest all season . These kancha’s take it very seriously you know. Always guards well. Eyi amar singara ta ke niye nilo!
Commentator 1: very interesting indeed. Last night’s semi finals between ‘Chetla boys’ and ‘Behala bokcho’s had such a pulsating end, I must say. It was finally decided at the last minute, the sweat on my brow hung still, till then. They were both a goal down each and coming to a decision was as difficult as choosing between langcha or kheerkodom. It would have almost been a tie, had it not been for the angry Chetla team which took matter into their own hands and finally hung their goalkeeper since he missed a sitter, and the other team won. Took some time though. The goalie, a skinny slippery character, kept wriggling out. They had to shoot him twice just to keep things steady! Tense moment there.
Commentator 2: What adrenalin rush. I think the full house today is sending a clear message to the world that Bengal football is back and safe as hell. If Maradona coming here was not enough, this should silence all our detractors. What say?
Commentator 1: True. No effort is being spared by the organizers to entertain the packed house. Just before we came on, there was a public stoning contest outside where spectators pelted each other with igneous rocks as the band played “We will…we will…rock you”. Nothing like that to get the crowd going.
Commentator 2: I think the best moment so far, today, was during the practice session when leader Peto Panchu from ‘Jacchetai Jubok songho’ showered choicest ‘khistis’ to the other teams coach only to be berated by Swapon, the charismatic captain from ‘Bisakto Behela boys’ who backed his coach saying ‘amar coach bara debota laura’… that sent the early crowd wild. Unable to control their joy they burnt down four buses. Such a gentleman’s game I tell you.
Commentator 1: Haha. I thought that was less but since there’s a lot more left to go, I am hoping for more such taliban moments of expressing exhilaration.
[Advertisement from "Vedic Village":-
Man: "Vedic Village" is the secret of my energy. My home away from home
Mistress: Mine too. Baire is better than ghare. Secret of my energy too
Wife : (appears) No no...our energy... [and starts beating both with a bamboo stick]
Voiceover Jingle: Vedic Village. Kichu kilometer jaben, songe thakbe setting, mod khaben, mangso khaben, korben anek betting. Asun..]
Commentator 2: Welcome back viewers. Now coming to today’s match. Your thoughts?
Commentator 1: Pretty even steven. ‘Bishakto Boshtir Cheles’ are playing with 14 players, all with criminal background which is a big advantage assuredly. Not to count the petos they have so laboriously made all night through. Of course as we know that they never have a game plan and so they pretty much do whatever they want to. That’s real time innovation. Including letting them carry a few fire arms just in case. But then the ‘Jacchetai Jubok Songho’ is also very strong, has been extensively training in the Singur agitation camp and are in prime physical condition. To top it all they have jhontu majhi’r chele who has a ‘scorching’ left footer dada. In the quarter final, he single handedly burnt 4 houses to the ground, what a prodigy that boy I tell you. Rumor has it that their coach makes their goalkeeper do practice with live peto’s, gleefully thrown by their bunch of ‘foul mouthed’ yellow teeth supporters.
Commentator 2: So what happens if he drops a few?
Commentator 1: Well then that goalkeeper is replaced rather quickly. Like I said earlier, they are committed to this game and won’t take ‘no’ or ‘parchi na’ for an answer.
Commentator 2: In all, the makings of a fascinating match. A scintillating contest really…
Commentator 1: Before we sign off, remember to watch our lunch-time show where there will be mindless mayhem, spectator punching, bench burning and boudi baji activities bought to you by the ‘Show my Book’ company’…remember…...they have no branches.
Commentator 2: What I cannot understand still, is why Vedic village is sponsored this cup? Last time it was ‘Salt Lake SEZ & Co. Heard it was a hotly contested fight which the Tata’s lost out of.
Commentator 1: …. the story goes that anything that happens here, have to be sponsored by Vedic Village, as decided by Gaffar da and his other bunch of ‘peto making’ cronies….havent you heard his famous slogan.....’ “Ma, Maati ar Manush...poisa felun, sob paben…”
Commentator 2: love that inglorious besterd !!! eyi match shuru hocche .....they have already started throwing peto on the linesman and the referee....ki daarrun byapar!
Commentator 2: Aaaah …ki je korcho tenida? Anyways who would have thought that after the whole world stopped thinking or even talking about Bengal football, which includes our ‘truant’ ‘raised at home’ ‘devils own’ teenagers who would rather watch the English or Spanish league, or even our Mohan Bagan or East Bengal supporters, whose once legendary hatred would make ‘the shia and the sunnis’ look like peace keeping units, that this match has been organized in such a large scale and with so much fanfare. This is the best thing in a decade, the closest parallel being the ‘Ponchanontala Premier League’ that became defunct years ago when a fight ensued that rendered….er…anyways, the audience has come from all parts of 24 paraganas and beyond, dressed in their finely tailored kurtas from Ranaghat with matching flared jeans exquisitely manufactured from Bosetala. Let me tell you that all spectators have been thoroughly searched given the importance and sensitivity of the match--you should have seen the number of small arms they had to confiscate outside the sign at the gate that said “No petos, dodoma’s, katta’s, petrol bomb, matchboxes, moon moon sen photos torn off old magazines, filter less cigarettes, plastic water bottles, riya sen mms, bappi lahiri CD’s and Marxist literature allowed”.
Commentator 1: Exactly. And it’s not as if we do not have international teams this time. There is the Bangladesh team who just crossed the border illegally today morning. And one from Nepal as well who I hear is extremely good with the defense
Commentator 2 : ……..and why not? From what I hear, they are all cooks and night watchmen’s and their defense has been the strongest all season . These kancha’s take it very seriously you know. Always guards well. Eyi amar singara ta ke niye nilo!
Commentator 1: very interesting indeed. Last night’s semi finals between ‘Chetla boys’ and ‘Behala bokcho’s had such a pulsating end, I must say. It was finally decided at the last minute, the sweat on my brow hung still, till then. They were both a goal down each and coming to a decision was as difficult as choosing between langcha or kheerkodom. It would have almost been a tie, had it not been for the angry Chetla team which took matter into their own hands and finally hung their goalkeeper since he missed a sitter, and the other team won. Took some time though. The goalie, a skinny slippery character, kept wriggling out. They had to shoot him twice just to keep things steady! Tense moment there.
Commentator 2: What adrenalin rush. I think the full house today is sending a clear message to the world that Bengal football is back and safe as hell. If Maradona coming here was not enough, this should silence all our detractors. What say?
Commentator 1: True. No effort is being spared by the organizers to entertain the packed house. Just before we came on, there was a public stoning contest outside where spectators pelted each other with igneous rocks as the band played “We will…we will…rock you”. Nothing like that to get the crowd going.
Commentator 2: I think the best moment so far, today, was during the practice session when leader Peto Panchu from ‘Jacchetai Jubok songho’ showered choicest ‘khistis’ to the other teams coach only to be berated by Swapon, the charismatic captain from ‘Bisakto Behela boys’ who backed his coach saying ‘amar coach bara debota laura’… that sent the early crowd wild. Unable to control their joy they burnt down four buses. Such a gentleman’s game I tell you.
Commentator 1: Haha. I thought that was less but since there’s a lot more left to go, I am hoping for more such taliban moments of expressing exhilaration.
[Advertisement from "Vedic Village":-
Man: "Vedic Village" is the secret of my energy. My home away from home
Mistress: Mine too. Baire is better than ghare. Secret of my energy too
Wife : (appears) No no...our energy... [and starts beating both with a bamboo stick]
Voiceover Jingle: Vedic Village. Kichu kilometer jaben, songe thakbe setting, mod khaben, mangso khaben, korben anek betting. Asun..]
Commentator 2: Welcome back viewers. Now coming to today’s match. Your thoughts?
Commentator 1: Pretty even steven. ‘Bishakto Boshtir Cheles’ are playing with 14 players, all with criminal background which is a big advantage assuredly. Not to count the petos they have so laboriously made all night through. Of course as we know that they never have a game plan and so they pretty much do whatever they want to. That’s real time innovation. Including letting them carry a few fire arms just in case. But then the ‘Jacchetai Jubok Songho’ is also very strong, has been extensively training in the Singur agitation camp and are in prime physical condition. To top it all they have jhontu majhi’r chele who has a ‘scorching’ left footer dada. In the quarter final, he single handedly burnt 4 houses to the ground, what a prodigy that boy I tell you. Rumor has it that their coach makes their goalkeeper do practice with live peto’s, gleefully thrown by their bunch of ‘foul mouthed’ yellow teeth supporters.
Commentator 2: So what happens if he drops a few?
Commentator 1: Well then that goalkeeper is replaced rather quickly. Like I said earlier, they are committed to this game and won’t take ‘no’ or ‘parchi na’ for an answer.
Commentator 2: In all, the makings of a fascinating match. A scintillating contest really…
Commentator 1: Before we sign off, remember to watch our lunch-time show where there will be mindless mayhem, spectator punching, bench burning and boudi baji activities bought to you by the ‘Show my Book’ company’…remember…...they have no branches.
Commentator 2: What I cannot understand still, is why Vedic village is sponsored this cup? Last time it was ‘Salt Lake SEZ & Co. Heard it was a hotly contested fight which the Tata’s lost out of.
Commentator 1: …. the story goes that anything that happens here, have to be sponsored by Vedic Village, as decided by Gaffar da and his other bunch of ‘peto making’ cronies….havent you heard his famous slogan.....’ “Ma, Maati ar Manush...poisa felun, sob paben…”
Commentator 2: love that inglorious besterd !!! eyi match shuru hocche .....they have already started throwing peto on the linesman and the referee....ki daarrun byapar!
Shadow : the review
In 1994 a movie called ‘The Shadow’ was released in the US about a mysterious vigilante (Alec Baldwin) who uses his occult powers to defend justice and to prevent his arch villain, Shiwan Khan (a relative of Genghis Khan!) from taking over the world.
Cut to circa 2009 when all is still not well with the world, especially when it comes to India. Rakhi Sawant has taken over the tele, bihari students burn down trains just for kicks, saffron brigades stop young couples from celebrating valentines day and RGV makes a horror movie so intense that people cannot see it beyond 3 working days. And amidst all this nonsense, the need for the ‘Shadow’ is felt like never before. That’s when the finesse of C grade Bollywood films take over and a blind hero, our very own Nasir Khan, surfaces, who uses his deadpan expression and moon surface like cratered face, to paralyze crime syndicates, eliminate bad guys, romance buxom heroines and ultimately save the country from corrupt people.
This is one original and imaginative movie, where after 15 mins, even normal people, like your penny pinching servant or the next door wife beater, would voluntarily go blind, touched by Nasir’s acting prowess. And if the first day crowds of disoriented, stoned and clueless people are any measure to go by, we have a winner in our hands. After all why would such people rush in where even fools would otherwise fear to tread. Philistine critics be damned, this looks like a sure-fire hit, and may well be India’s next entry to the Oscars unless the committee is blind and cannot appreciate a true work of ‘braille’ art.
Sure Nasir Khan doesn’t say ‘I see dead people’ often and understandably so, because, he’s blind as a bat. But that does not stop him from shooting his own action sequences complete with underwater fights, with his trademark shades, still on! If this does not show his relentless unwavering dedication to his craft and his obvious skills of being in the role of his character, nothing does. Remember well, that this is something even his evil C grade nemesis Vivek Mushran couldn’t learn, not even after 5 stupendous flops. Incidentally Shadow, the movie could also qualify for a Guinness world record for being the only movie ever made, where the hero wears shades all the way. Such blinding devotion, these days are rare in the Hindi film industry. ‘Aaj who zamanaa kahan’ said the blind guy sitting next to me until I smacked him to ensure he lets me watch. He was last seen looking all around to find me, some cheek I tell you.
However other blind people who had also attended the premiere, are vociferous in their support, opining that this is the best movie ever, even better than ‘soorma bhopali’, ‘gazab tamasha’ or say the Bhojpuri blockbuster ‘kaa ho bhaiya’!!! They all hail the arrival of the new Khan, one who can ham better than srk, has more flab than sallu bhai and has given more thought to his role than aamir da. I am not even talking about his lines that are filled with human emosion, the kinds you would not find anywhere, except say in Bhojpuri movies. Soul stirring lines like ‘“Namumkin ko mumkin banane ke liye hi log Arjun Sherawat (his movie name) ko muh mangi kimat dete hai”…wah wah. Or say ‘main tumhe maar bhi nahin sakta hoon or ‘chod’ bhi nahin sakta hoon’. How deep. And that gets the audience ‘stirred and shaken’, generating frenzy and mass hysteria. I spoke to blind movie critic aptly called ‘nayan’tara, who was there in the theatre, and she swore that all that she wants is one peck from Nasir. Its cruel life has been bad to her for she cannot see, or else she would have run in old filmi style into her heroes arms she said. I gave her solace and helped her across the street. I was however so busy scribbling this down and hardly noticed that truck coming from the other side….ouch….ahem……may god bless her blind soul.
Anyways....
..Nasir Khan packs a punch in his debut performance. Whether it is his natural flair at action, his hairstyle, his sartorial sense of dressing and the inflection of his voice, everything is so spot on as to be positively rated as a masterful tour d’force. Add to this the storyline, which is actually a threesome, an orgy, of crime, action and thriller, that will keep you riveted to the spot. The cast comprises of a number of hyperacting actors who use their exaggerated facial expressions, acting consistently as if they all had chilli powder smeared on their behinds, doing well to orchestrate the thriller sense the script demands. Ther’s hrishita bhatt who shows more skin than the neighborhood cow, and Sonali Kulkarni, an otherwise decent actress, who probably thought this was the Hindi version of ‘Lost in Translation’. Thus the movie has all the dumb belles one requires for a three thumbs up. Add to that and our very own man meat and mountain Milind Soman who makes Nasir look like Al Pacino in this very hindi, action stacked, ‘scent of a woman’ phillum.
Watching ‘Shadow’ is a multi-layered experience. At one level, you are watching an elaborate advertisement for various products like small clothes, costumes, shades, bling and other unnecessary stuff that life so brings. On another level, you feel as if you are, like a voyeur, getting an exclusive view of a true crime fighter. And on yet another level, you are actually watching a ‘movie within a movie’, one that can be viewed both as the ultimate death wish and one as a searing cinematic achievement.
“Apne hamari aankhen khol di” Nashir...where be thy oscar? …we are blinded by your obvious flash of brilliance…
Thursday, August 13, 2009
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