The One ' 0' Clock Bengali

the real reason why indian men are well hung!

2010-05-15T07:25:00.000-07:00

how bankable!

2010-05-15T07:24:00.001-07:00

the pearly gates !

2010-05-15T07:22:00.000-07:00

the day they served P

2010-05-15T07:19:00.000-07:00

It was December. I was in Calcutta. I had to go to this social occasion. And then I happened to notice a menu card! Henceforth, I am particular about the kinda functions I attend..

Loo and Behold!

2010-05-15T07:17:00.002-07:00

Maa ka laadla, bigaad gaya : Ladyboys!

2010-05-15T07:17:00.001-07:00

Its 'hard' to see such good marketing

2010-05-15T07:08:00.000-07:00

many ways to reach god

2010-05-15T07:07:00.000-07:00

Dear Prince harming

2010-05-15T06:58:00.000-07:00

There have been many bollywood movies that rank so high in the myndfcuk meter that they define greatness on their own terms. Greatness for having been so stupendously stupid and so originally unaesthetic. Greatness for assuming the audience as a moving mass of mad cows and morons. Greatness for the rare bravado of making a movie without semblance to a vision statement called as a plot. All of that is rare cinematic brilliance. And ‘Prince’ the movie, is right up there, delivering unintentional entertainment and providing all the right laughs at all the wrong reasons. Years later when aliens take over our planet and end up reviewing these rare classics I am sure ‘Prince’ will get its just attention and Vivek Oberoi will be idolized beyond the immediate confines of our stratosphere.

Well, there were subtle clues that the movie had all the trappings of a techno tamasha. I mean when the director is an ex ‘jhatka matka’ music director, with a name like kookie gulati, you know there’s something morally wrong about the entire affair. And boy, does this kookie crumble and how!

Simply explained ‘prince’ is the last word in horror and the first word in fright. And the goose bumps appear early. Whether it is the macabre sight of a grinning Vivek Oberoi in a body hugging Speedo type suit or the tetrabyte trauma of having to watch his failed attempts to act or the terrifying ‘sci-fry’ storyline of a bheja gone missing, you cannot but wonder, what sinister spooky spirit must have taken control of the cast and crew. What deep possession was it that had forced its release? What in the devils name was at play that had left the audiences impaled to their seats!

From bargain basement ‘copy and paste’ type original special effects hacked from Matrix, to a bevy of beauties who act with their anatomies and lend the word dominatrix a new respect, and a forever constipated Sanjay Kapoor who needs no horror introductions, everything about ‘Prince’ is top notch urban legend.

There are glimpses of rare genius though, when for instance, the hero in a rather heart rending scene, gets convulsions and writhes on the floor, flooding our memories with images of something similar Pooja Bedi had done in another yesteryears classic called ‘Vishkanya’! Or the way the camera pans at Aruna Shield’s cleavage and makes you almost forgive and forget the overall inconsistencies. But, well, those are rare assets!

In an attempt to give the hero more breathing space the director generates enough ‘badboo’ to crush our spirits and create a megalomaniac called Vivek Oberoi who is clearly in a ‘I am better than Keanu Reeves’ trip, and ends up giving deadpan some real indignity. The director, like a man whose demons have not been exorcised, tries to tell a few stories and all of them are assuredly petrifying! You will in fact react to the movie at various levels. You will be found spinning in the tailspin of this illogical fare, rendered immobile, and unable to decide whether to laugh at the incredulous, to guffaw at the ridiculous or to cry at the farce.

At the end, you will have horrifying doubts. Is this a tale of a harrowing heist? A lust crusade for a lost brain? Are ample bosoms good for extra support? Does music video style montage make miracles? And while some siliconed answers will be provided, the rest will largely be dark and mysterious. Unanswered. Like one great obscene thriller.

Honestly horror has seldom been this exciting and entertaining.

Veer: a rare bravado

2010-05-15T06:57:00.000-07:00

Veer is not so much of a movie as it is a interstellar space ride that takes us right back to the Bollywood of the 80’s bringing back the same ‘dhishoom dhishoom’ ‘paisa pheko tamasha dekho’ and ‘jhumma chumma de de’ kinda mindless ball numbing experience into the nice upholstery, caramel popcorn confines of the multiplexes of today. Of course it’s ‘supposedly’ a period drama but that is irrelevant since this movie was made solely for the rowdy sallu bhai fans, the ones who leer at women, gun down endangered species, mow down innocent pedestrians and flex muscles without reason. Yes just for them.

So take that Mel Gibson and all you Braveheart worshipers who think Indian movies need a story, while neglecting our 80’s cinematic style that spells out clearly that ‘the star’ is bigger than the script. And take Russell Crowe if you think action movies need emotions interlaced. And take that Ashutosh Gowarikar and your Jodha Akbar and your years of crappy research. Our Veer bravely steers clear of all this hard work, relying only on gore and blood and ‘bhari bharkaam’ action sequences, without any of that intellectual baggage other period dramas seem to carry.

Sallu bhai’s ‘Veer’, lifted from a few Hollywood movies like gladiator, troy etc has no story. Absolutely none. Its just a bunch of images that transmit a genetically modified hybrid of action, song and villain sequences, all arranged in a continual loop to run over and over again. It makes no ambiguous attempts to tell a tale, ensures no characterization and absolutely no sweat lost for narrative development.

Instead there is plenty of machismo coming from the ‘bare sher’ Salman Khan. With his puffed-up “gusse main” cheeks he now resembles a Pakisthan IPL hopeful, and when he moves tearing into the enemy ranks, yanking out arms, thrashing the bad men and sending them to the stratosphere with an escape velocity imparting ‘muh tod jawab’, he is very close to being a terminator thingie without the ‘will be back’ diatribe. Take that as well Arnold and James Cameron, then.

Did I say bare sher? I think I did. If you believe that women should be characterized as independent people in a movie, or in sync with the custom, culture and etiquette that a period drama may demand, then maybe “Veer” is not for you. Well let me quantify that. Women are significant to the movie because of two reasons. And the camera spends a lot of time showing those ‘reasons’ amply. Of course the fact that the lady in question does look like katrina kaif, strictly from a 35 degree angle, helps a lot. After all in movies like these, any angle is good to go.

Just so your are convinced that period dramas need old people, there is the old-school Mithun and Jackie dada who look like they are advertising for ‘need viagra’ & ‘want botox’ products at various parts of the movie, a throwback to the glorious 80’s when both these stars ruled the roost with similar B grade movies, that satisfied the frustrated autowallah and provided solace to the ‘wife beater’ or the very drunk office peon.

Mention however must be made of the cinematography and especially the action parts. For instance, in this one scene Salman makes literal sense of the adage ‘we all need a helping hand’ and yanks one off from his enemy! That gets my goat.

And my most favorite moment has to be when Salman has to act emotional and poor bhai looks every bit the tortured types, a man at the crossroads of intense decision making. Should he act now or should he say ‘what the hell’ and bare his torso. He almost fidgets, plays and toys with the audience’s emotions and exhorts them to get up on their seats and throw everything at the screen. And they do. Wah sallu bhai wah! I read somewhere that the period drama dress that sallu wears cost the producers 3 crores. Now that’s some achievement since I am betting two bucks that it’s far more than what this movie would generate at box office!

It was at that precise instant that my mind was sucked back into the space ride. Once again I was back into the 80’s. Into the gory days of period dramas like manoj kumar’s ‘kranti’. Flashing before my eyes were images of innumerable bad hindi movies where stories were told for no reason, action did not make sense, plots were absent and the acting remained unimpactful.

Veer is that very rare cinematic experience,a tour de force, that does justice to all of the above.

I can only assure you this. If you watch ‘veer’, you 'will' become a certified braveheart. And remember, you will then have nothing to lose…. except your sanity!

The King is dead. His name is red.

2010-05-15T06:55:00.001-07:00

Old Bengal saying :
‘Taratari kheye nao, na hole kintu jyoti babu load shedding kore debe!!!
(Eat quickly little boy or Jyoti babu will get angry and give you darkness)

For anyone who belongs to our generation, having grown up under the red bastion, these lines make perfect sense. As simple as fish and rice.

Today with Jyoti Basu’s death, with Mamata Banerjee’s successful onslaught slowly shutting out the CPIM’s dominance, with the sun about to set on this huge Marxist empire, something that my grandfather died hoping to see, I try to remember the larger than a langcha, bigger than a Bappida, more genji flipping than a Ganguly, more mettle than our Mithun, more magical than moon moon and more bold n basu’er than Bipasha, the life and times of Jyoti Basu, the son of Bengal. In a way it’s also a brief history of the CPIM rule in our state.

I was small and did not understand politics. But then one didn’t have to know bengal politics to hate those endless hours of power cuts. Or the way they would come unannounced. Often robbing me of my favorite Johnny Soko serial or exasperating my folks some evening before my final exam. Or say just when I was about to cut the birthday cake! Jyoti’s effect was illuminating. His name may have meant light, but he was successful in his single minded determination to keep us in the dark!!!

I may have been in school but my understanding of the CPIM rule began early. It was good in some ways. I learnt the meanings of words like moha michil, inverter, flash light, lantern, manifesto, comrade and peto's earlier than others. Also not a day passed when I would not hear his revered name either in demand, delusion or in derogation. And sometimes the people in my para or in my house, would blame him for anything that would not go right or would stop going right midway! Lack of employment, corruption, poverty, budding local party ruffians, lack of vision, less season’s catch of the famed hilsa and even moonmoon sen’s dipping career (and necklines) was attributed to him! He wasn’t just a party worker. In his true embodiment, he was the party.

As I grew up, the ‘dushtu’ nature of the Left rule became even more evident. It would be as unassuming as a local sweet-shop slowly taken over by CPM workers, the sweets acquiring a sour taste overnight, the customer pool vanishing faster than you can say ‘dur saala’ and then the store a remnant, a ruin, meant to be occupied only by truant cadres who would drink ‘cholai’ and grin, a social sample of the various other industry of the state and their deploring conditions! Then came other atrocities. Any plot of land would get encroached over by “local boys” with the police refusing to deal with it, the hapless owners left with little else to do! Then red party offices would spring up faster than mc donalds in your locality. There was one in every nook. And other insignificant places with or without corners! That was their way of establishing clout. Of showing the neighbourhood who they were. Each party office was quickly occupied by minimum four jobless youths, one shabby table, two stolen ‘khatiyas’, 3 party flags, 2 vision posters, one red flag streamer tied reluctantly to a lamp post, one carom table, 3 bottles of the finest local hooch and a music player to play offensive songs to attract the more jobless, who could pass time pursuing excellence in carrom and cooing at the women lecherously.

Then there was the education system where the CPIM with their anti-English anti-”elitist” agenda jeopardized careers. From shreds of para conversation I also understood how land in Salt Lake (the hottest township then) was allocated. And how jobs and appointments were doled out to only those who were leaning to the left—from the peon at the door to the Vice Chancellor, from the police constable to the professor, from the land owner to the buyer. And election modus operandi’s were simple, time tested and had a process that would make six sigma look ancient. It ran like this. The ‘bhodrolok’ going to vote would be kept waiting so long that tired, angry and weakened he would leave. Then a local CPIM ‘changra’ would vote for him instead. This was one way. The red party had a million ways like this. Like the joke would run, even the dead vote in bengal, for the red, as decreed!!!
Btw it was under his rule that the minimum age to vote was reduced. Aah what a relief it was for the party who could now employ countless and nameless cadre customized jubaks, full of yong blod, to rig votes.

Beyond all this, was the economic decline that the red bastion would ensure in the years to come. A decline that would see a huge middle class migration, a decline that would eat up our industries and our growth, only because the reds could arrange a billion people to respond to a vociferous ‘cholbe na’ michil overnight. And the bigger the field, the more the number. Imagine the ferocity of a huge blob of red supporters shouting and beating their chests, raising sweaty fists, against anything that looked remotely MNCish. Most opportunities stopped even before it set foot. Some arrived and meekly left. Then there was the infamy of Bantala and Birati. But it did little to shake Jyoti Babu’s stern rule. Calm, composed and calculated he was not only the grandfather of Indian/Bengal politics, he was the master of the game. And I will tell you why?

Because Jyotibabu had far more political experience and read accurately the psychology of his state. He understood the secret to staying in power in Bengal. That of keeping up appearances of being the “underdog”. And an important word that. Bengalis, even more than Gangaram and Ganguly, love the ideal of the dispossessed, the analogy of the simple and the honest fighting against the big bad wolves. This peculiar aversion for success is what explains why Bengalis are Leftists at heart, why they love nothing more than to see big corporations bite the dust even when it means that their state falls even further behind, which is why they will put their head on their axe for the sake of “idealism”, suicidal as it may be.

Jyoti babu knew how to play to it. When the Bakreswar power plant got stalled due as much to his government’s intransigence as the Congress central government’s intentional neglect, he made people believe it’s a fight between David and Goliath. He delivered lines like “Bangali youth will fill blood to finance Bakreswar” which the state totally lapped up. When industries closed in the State and capital fled, he said “Good riddance ! They want to exploit us and we won’t stand for it”. Bangalis applauded—yes that’s showing those rich f$%^&#$ ! Appearances of humility were always maintained as well therefore ensuring that even when people grumbled and groaned, come elections, they would still vote for the “little guys”, even though calling them little in Bengal would be like calling Shammi Kapoor, size zero!

Today it’s different. Many people I know now openly admit the CPIM party as villainous. Some consider Buddha as scheming as well. Ironically at a time, when it has been the least villainous it has been in decades. But the Huns are indeed at the door and the end is near. And the red bastion is all but gone. Hated by the very people who had written two decades of it’s historic rise. It had indeed lived its greatest moments, achieving its highest political glories, under Jyoti babu’s rein. The white dhoti kurta clad, quiet, unassuming man, who put the state ahead of him, and billions of people in the state before that. The man who may have spent his last few days, looking at the red flag still fluttering in his beloved state. Unconquered in his presence. Dirgho Jyothi.

The man who could be king.

The champion of the downtrodden. A politician of the highest caliber.

And to me, a man who will forever remain, as much a maverick as he was a monster.

Red in peace!

Name, Placve, Animal , Thing : the curious case of Mr. Atindranath Dutto

2010-05-15T06:54:00.000-07:00

The travails of Tenida, the glib talking, charming neighbourhood storyteller, from potol danga, are fairly famous in bengal amongst the disoriented teenagers who need a role model for their adda's! And the ever heroic, always 'para' popular, Tenida , has been regaling us with his set of rib ticklers for generations now. Stories full of indiana jones-like adventure n escapades, more hilarious than tapas pal in an action sequence, more rivetting than moon moon sen and george baker 'huffing and puffing' in bow barracks.

And the latest Tenida to arrive on the scene is none other than Atindranath Dutto, the flop cop from Sankrail police station who was abducted by maoists and released after 54 hours. Yes you heard me right. Our poor 'pulish' and extremely media 'bullish' cop, Atindroda, is a famous tele personality overnite. His simple life, the one where he would come home from his police station in the afternoon, sleep for a few good hours, have a nice bath with 'lifebuoy', wear a sando genji and play with his child has changed radically. He is now a local celeb. Never mind the price we paid to get him back.

As if the pathetic response by the administration was not enough damage, Mr Dutto, who has taken the onerous task of embarrassing his seniors and others in the govt. by giving interviews right and left!!! is a sight to behold. Middle aged, ample paunch, decade old glasses, the lost look, he is every inch the maths tuition professor who used to teach you 'sums' from KP Basu. That he is a cop, only goes to make the storyline twice as humorous. And boy, does he have the storytelling gift of the ancients. Coupled with precision bad acting and you know he's a diff planet. He pauses between sentences, pouts at the anxious moments and exhales deep breaths to stretch a simple sentence into impossible distances. Not to add his very 'tenida like rendition' on his days in captivity.

Duttoda, looking dapper in a new striped shirt, made to order, by the very famous Bablu Roy & Tailors from west midnapore, is a man reborn. Completely at piss with himself, he seems to be enjoying this sudden attention. I can't blame him really. Tired of a lifetime of solving complex crimes like cattle thievery and village squabbles, Mr. Dutto has finally risen from his murky past and there’s no stopping him now. For sing he shall. How the naxals took him blindfolded, the days of pensive waiting, the inaction, the exchange and finally the release, all amidst a full media glare. Puropuri potboiler!

There is nothing wrong with him giving interviews now is there? Every waking hour a bengali cop, fat and corpulent, corrupted by the system, stationed in some remote place, usually lead meek apologetic lives, being flattened like sardines under piles of unsolved cases, working low-paying jobs under their 'khaki' masters, forced to endure the increasing insignificance of their being when compared to the 'better off' others. Beaten and bruised throughout the day, what is wrong with a little limelight? What is wrong with a little make up? Is that too much to ask ?

And why just blame it on him alone for hogging the limelight. How about those Bengali TV channels, given their excesses for over dramatization, who can make even the simple act of swatting a fly, a compelling tarantino-esque plot with 45 mins running time. Channels whose morose hosts ask intrepid questions like ' how did you feel'? Channels who need little content and lesser virtue to run an exclusive. Channels who love to titillate viewers with details that shouldn’t even be divulged. Details which are sensitive information. Details that are important just so in case we want to run a covert operation. But then such rules are easily forgotten by tele channels.

And by a certain A. Duttoda who's enjoying his new lease of life.

A life which looks more promising and far better than his earlier one.

And Atindranath like Robindronath, shall rejoice and sing, like a canary on prime bangla time.

Rahman finally has some competition! Sigh!

Dugga Dugga Dugga

2010-05-15T06:53:00.000-07:00

pujo mane chicken roll ar benfisher gondho
pujo mane kajer theke mora aaj ondho,

pujo mane mayer kache onek kichu pabe
pujo mane chotto babai aaj hath dhore jabe,

pujo mane desher matir kotha mone asha
pujo mane sob bangalir opor bhalobasha,

pujo mane paratake notun kore pai
pujo tokhon jokhon amra sobai ghurte jai,

pujo mane mone pore maddock squarer prem
pujo mane ami tarzen jedin tumi chile jane,

pujo mane relaxation ..puro bochor dhore khete
Pujo mane sobai jano bhishon thake mete,

Pujo mane je ja boluk, je ja koruk bhai
Amar shudu rockey boshe, joint tana chai!!!

Not Gandhi, nor dalai lama..how noble is the noble

2010-05-15T06:50:00.000-07:00

It is well past midnight. In a dimly lit cubicle ensconced in some skyscraper, overlooking New York city, sits a league of extra ordinary gentle men/woman discussing their destinies. Their faces cringed with disgust; their brows display many emotions as they wonder why they, the illustrious, not qualify for a Nobel peace prize. What went wrong? Which wrong direction did they take? Tonight they were seeking some answers. There’s George Bush, right next to Bill Clinton, who’s at the moment busy giving an oral history of the peace prize to Mallika Sherawat. And then there is the Jain brothers who bring to you the much loved Femina Miss India, which any dick from the urban populace of the great nation of India, will openly admit as the best platform ever, for peace and warmth. After all, is there any other example for something as peaceful as watching a bunch of nubile young beautiful lasses strutting their stuff and stuttering about peace. And as for warmth, it is right there, soft and sensuous. Warmth that goes deep down, reaching the various crevices of your hearts, and other places.

Tonight these gentlemen sit disturbed.

For the Nobel Committee officially announced Obama as the dove of peace or a crow of coveted change, and conferred the much desired peace prize, for rendering hope in a world, oh so lawless. That is not easy. Not everyone can promise change. Even your ever loving local kirana shop owner may refuse. Plus Obama also promised disarmament which even sanjiv kumar from sholay cannot help but applaud to. If only he could! Not to forget great speeches in a deep baritone voice. Aah Big B where did you go wrong? However, apparently, all this is enough when you are the man at the helm of the world’s largest corporation. That in essence is his ONLY claim to fame. Just that. And look ma, he still won the nobel peace prize.

So let’s go over his credentials one more time now, shall we. Okay so there’s this cairo university speech delivered, edgy with emosion, to the Islamic community. Then there's this promise of a mammoth aid to Pakisthan in spite of knowing fully well that the money will be routed, rerouted and finally diverted through a complex channel to the various jehadi groups who want to rage a war against India and finally, for sucking up to China by not meeting his holiness, the Dalai Lama, who probably deserves it more than he does.

Now on that account surely Bill Clinton deserves one. If you count his oral office overtures he did pretty good. Did he not make the world happy when each one of us found out how he creatively connected the dots of intern, cigar, a stained blue dress and cheated on the mastiff at home ? Did he not help, when the whole world erupted in joy, even ROFLed at his famed exploits as billy pricasso, a true master of the game? Why not him then, I ask?

And then surely George Bush junior deserves it as much and more. Did he not make the world a safer place by nuking or threatening to nuke everyone and everybody? Did he not provide a great cover of security to the world, the kind of security that blows up embassies, hotels, govt and public places every other day. Is he not a doctor of change, his chemotherapy treatment, killing millions of innocent civilians, while bushie boy went about looking for weapons of mass destruction. Eldorado probably would have been easier to find, but barring that, he deserves it for his Rambo- like take on peace. Action not words.

And where did Mallika sherawat, go wrong then? From chadni chowk, to even china, if we account for jackie chan, did she not provide enough hope and world peace? Didn’t those low plunging necklines, toppling over, like the sheer cliff face of the grand canyons, provide solace to all those who desperately needed some. Didn’t those satin gowns with deep cuts help us imagine peace among some other things instantly? Did she not help the 35 million men of this country achieve sure fire kinetic energy, not to add dollops of change! Why not her?

But of course the Nobel Committee knows very little about all this. For the award, especially the peace award, which stands as a testimony to those who make a real difference, are instead doled out, in accordance with the present political scenario. It’s given out to those the committee would like to please. It reminds me of my school raffle contest where the guy who would get the most amount of money would win. Never mind that his dad bought them all without him having to twitch a muscle. Rules as corrupt and yet as simple as that make me misty eyed. Imagine the committee as a posh officers club where only a select few are invited, and those who have been invited, have enough influence, to play and win.

No wonder Mahatma Gandhi never won. No wonder a terrorist like Yassir Arafat was a Peace Prize winner. No wonder an Al Gore who at max gave a voice over on a documentary on the environment has one for himself. But one sec.... who else was there on the short list? Makes you wonder doesn’t it ? Was it Angelina Jolie? Maybe Megan fox? Or was it Bobby darling?

We may only guess but we do know this, the award, does more harm than good to Obama. For the man, yet to prove his mettle, battling a healthcare bill, fighting to ward of a imminent Israel – Iran war, or doing a billion other noble things like dancing with ms Thalia, the prize sits heavy. And we also do know that whatever respect one would have had about the prize has slowly gone, withered, vanished, faded. Compared to the noble, even Screen awards now look more transparent and fair.

So who left the room happy that night? It was the Jain brothers. If Femina, with its noblest of noble intentions, continue that way, the peace prize may well be in sight. Who knows. Next year contenders could well include Maureen Wadia, Vijay Mallya and the ilk. All peace keeping agents, them.

And they all render hope. And hope equals promise.

And promises win Nobel’s.

Peace out!

Big Bass 3 : The stink is back

2009-10-09T23:03:00.000-07:00

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.

Durga Puja not Pujo

2009-10-09T23:02:00.000-07:00

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!

All hail villainy: bujhecho sonamuni

2009-10-09T22:55:00.000-07:00

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!

Two's a company

2009-10-09T22:53:00.000-07:00

Phootball : our favorite pheel good phactor

2009-10-09T22:50:00.000-07:00

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!

Shadow : the review

2009-10-09T22:48:00.001-07:00

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…

who makes good signboards?

2009-08-13T13:34:00.000-07:00

Smash Boom Bong

2009-08-12T12:16:00.000-07:00

You can estimate the charm of a city by the number of days you can indulge in merrymaking at home. Leisure after all is the raison d etre. And in Calcutta you are easily assured that and much more. This is after all the only city where your 'bari thakbo' dreams happen sooner than you wished for. You can therefore while away hours making criss crosses with sumptuous glee on your misthanna bhandar calendar, carefully circling down the days when you did not have to go to office, your children did not have to attend school and the sick in your family did not have to unnecessarily feel inconvenienced traveling to hospitals. For unlike other places, here you have at your disposal, passionate and phanatic, CITU and Congress workers who will do your bidding at the drop of a dhuti.

This is not your mumbai where the rains may lash out a leave or the blasts may bomb your office plans. 'Tch tch' says Swarupda, a fellow cadre. And he should know. Only a few weeks ago, Swarup had single handedly smashed some riskas, a few buses, and torched another few, in one of the many bandhs this city has seen. Last year when he was in another party he was stopping trains, occasionally laughing at old exasperated passengers, passing lewd comments to ladies with small children walking through the mud and grime, their saris hiked up, their waists exposed and inviting, the sweat on their skin glistening. Aah the sights of a bandh! This is now his ‘real’ profession, his chosen life, his claim to fame, his last stop at glory. And boy, does he feel important. After all, he wields the power to bring an entire city to a stop. Even a single twitch is enough. This is of course better than his earlier useless life, as a clerk, playing carrom in the para club, making occasional peto bombs, drinking chullu and cavorting with his friends, who would gyrate at the sight of women, young and old. Such fine professions politics make. He scoffs at those who say this city doesn't have job. Poor Job charnock curses them, he says.

He is busy today. He will start his day walking in a michil to protest against the governments rule to stop polluting buses. What pollution? He says. Bengal hardly has any industries. The air keeps getting fresher every other year, after all. Sometime around the afternoon, after making sure that private bus operators are 'strictly' observing the bandh, he will go and heckle the transport minister, tugging at sire's clothes, hurling abuses at the environment friendly opinion. Occasionally he will see some teenagers packed like sardines going somewhere and he will call them 'saala boroloker baccha'. His glorious moment was that public property destruction spree he had gone to. What unalloyed fun. His friends and other warkars had gone wielding lathis and rods. Those who had nothing broke road dividers to smash, boom and bang.

He and his henchmens are also well protected. Sure its not like a huge insurance policy or something but if ever the cops arrest him or even as much as lay a finger on him, his local MLA, didi herself, dada himself or 'parar’ other ‘bhadroloks' who he has extorted his entire lifetime from will form some forum and come to his aid. If he is lucky there may indeed be another call for bandh just for him and his croonies. Now if that is not the power of one, what is? And then there's the entire media coverage thing. He had this thing for that maidservant called Moushumi but she wouldn’t react to his 'three button open' grinning and rubbing his hairy chest, ‘cholai’ slurring overtures. But that changed the day he was seen in zee tv bangla shouting at passengers to get out of the bus he intended to burn. His real test of leadership openly displayed when he forced a few of the meek passengers to actually participate in the burning! Talk of mass movement. Moushumi smiled at him that day and Bankim's heart turned softer, for a few seconds. Love does that. He imagined lyrics from some heart rending gaan standing in front of the burning buses. 12 of them were reduced to cinders like jilted lovers to be exact.

A few intellectuals may still call him names but he doesn’t bother. “These boka___'s stay in southern avenue and think they rule this state” he opines. Having mutton kosha, talking about vacations in gangtok or digha, and swimming classes in Anderson, does not a true Bengali make, now does it? Half of them sometimes go to UK once in their lifetime and act like they were born in Buckingham palace’ he says spitting some pan on shibu who serves him free lebu cha. The others who did not go anywhere, sit in some club or bar, drinking whisky in their smash t shirts or false polo tees, looking down on his efforts he claims. Having awarded himself the dubious distinction of being a true representative of the people, he pleads for his cause. It is for his people he explains. He fights for them, causes damage and arrests development. He is after all the man in the streets and it is his mamdobaji that brings the minions down to their knees. He thinks he thinks and therefore he is and you are. Isn’t that logic compelling enough?

And if the average Bengali is so bothered, how come the boshtir chele’s and middle class munna’s playing cricket during the bandhs do not complain? How come somnath babu with his family of four who slept so well that bandh afternoon doesn’t come out to protest? How come his own bekaar son , now a strong fellow and ‘an almost inductee’ to the party doesn’t talk of industrialization and its after effects? He explains that people are not bothered as long as they get a good day off. More so if the allure, complete with ribbons has the promisory note of a long weekend. Better still, if they have finished off a long adda about this debilitating state of affairs followed by a smoked hilsa, just about ready for that much wanted snooze. 'As long as the dadas and didis are ondho, everything will be bondho' he says grinning like a chesire cat, smiling like a mischevious schoolboy who wasnt caught scribbling expletives on the wall.

The price of good living has its sacrifices, after all. Viva la Bengal!

The good doctor goes quack quack quack

2009-08-12T12:15:00.001-07:00

The swine flu

2009-08-12T12:13:00.000-07:00

Its all about the bike - by Armstrong's Lance

2009-08-12T12:11:00.000-07:00

A long tail about before and after

2009-08-12T12:10:00.000-07:00

My experiments with truth: Sach Ka Saamna

2009-08-12T12:08:00.000-07:00

I was watching Star Plus’s ‘Sach Ka Saamna’s’ first episode and I felt I was witnessing a radical change in Indian television history. For finally, here was a show, which does justice to the word ‘real’ in reality. This is not the ‘wannabe coolish’ Roadies or ‘make out vs. break out’ Splitsville, both intended for denizens of stupidisithan. Neither is this the ‘catch em young’ Teen diva or the exceptionally ‘slutty savitriish’ Rakhi Sawant show. Finally ‘Sach’ was IN. In fact I am betting my colleagues money that when the x files duo (ex porn star) David duchnovy and (super hot / plastic) Gillian Anderson would opine ‘that the truth is out there’ they probably meant this very show!

‘Sach ka Saamna’ is every Telgi’s nightmare for it hits where it hurts most (no, not our groin!), smacking us socially to reveal our true face, warts and all! It’s all about ‘sachaaiiii’ as the host Rajeev Khandelwal hams spontaneously and he should know. In fact he looks like he’s got his own little hideous skeletons stacked in somewhere, and therefore forever uneasy lay his soul. That and his expressionless face. The show’s format is adapted (of cors!) from the successful ‘The Moment of Truth’ and is based on a cultural merger of the Gandhian philosophy of truth and the tradition of our own home-made ‘ghar ki baat ghar main rehna chaiye’ kinda family values which we have socially thrived on and the Barjatiya’s made tons of money from. It fuses both of these into a neat little ‘spin’, the ‘doosra’ of a kind that would make even muralitharan go white!

The rules are simple. There is the contestant, say, mrs. sharma next door and then there’s a huge screen where the polygraph machine checks your responses to embarrassing questions and answers with a human like voice “Mrs. Sharma sach bol rahi hai”, to reassure us that even machines have a human face, voice etc. (and you thought it was only Arnold!)The polygraph machine can always find the truth and Rajeev explains, ‘it’s not what’s in your heart, its what your ‘body signals’ which this holmes like machine interprets. I suggest they get sheryln chopra someday. She could be one of the rare ones who could use her ‘body signals’ to wriggle out of tight spots. But then knowing sheryln, tight spots may just be her kink!

However make no mistake. This show is not for the faint hearted. This is the not
your old television serial. You may have lived your lifetime laughing at Mr. Yogi, playing detective with Karamchand, learning with Surbahi, sympathizing with the Nukkad and so on. But this one asks you questions. And the answers take time. And they keep getting worse. The positioning of the show is therefore as classy as washing dirty linen in public and as moving as seeing middle aged family figures sobbing socially for being the womanizer, the alcoholic, the paedophile and the corrupt. All this, mind you, an entire ‘voyeuristic’ nation watches in admiration. Clearly a great show for the typical Indian family. The ones who put their ears to the wall to hear the neighbour’s verbal volleys. The ones who are attracted to news, especially if it is from the mohallah. The kinds who secretly admit that one family’s poison is always another’s everyday topic of discussion.

That the answers will be a public spectacle is inevitable. That the reactions from family members invited to watch is shocking is predictable. But the show makers go to great pains to make us realize that this isn’t just a show. This is life. Our life. The life of a corruptible Indian, not one with fake old-school niceness coupled with a ‘tummy tuck’. Critics may call this yet another attempt to get more TRP’s and encourage yet another money spinning enterprise but I see it for what it is—– a show based on the truth (and nothing but the truth) and its inestimable relevance even in today’s ‘siliconed’ world.

Such is the power of the sach!

The bottomline of capitalism : G9 summit

2009-08-12T12:07:00.000-07:00

Natural Endowments

2009-08-12T12:05:00.000-07:00

The King & I

2009-06-28T21:31:00.000-07:00

For those who came in late, MJ will be just a pop star. But for those of us or our generation who were used to living in a world where there were no Mandira's, Mallika's , MTV's or Metallica, our visual icons limited to a mere Mithunda (and his 'ayeeee saaala's), god himself was Michael Jackson. He wasnt merely a “pop star”—he was an icon for all of us who grew up watching him. He was the final word in music, the man with the midas touch if you will. Eager beaver protestors were silenced quickly that glittering grammy night when the King of Pop wowed the audiences with his moonwalk (which later spurred imitators like prabhu deva who heaved and thrusted jacko style! ) and stole most of the awards ensuring he remains more than an image in record books or a name notched in the music awards roll of honour. . The King was officially crowned.

MJ's arrival ushered in a new era, a new kind of music, even a new set of moves. He was intended for greater glory. And history had nominated us as its witnesses. Let me enumerate. The mass hysteria that he generated then, was second only to elvis or third only to the beatles. Remember, all this was before the cable TV growth which happened only in the early 90's. All this was way before the baywatches, the bold & the beautifuls, the beavis and buttheads or the big bosses. MJ was our first exposure to the big glamourous world of the west. Our first music hero. Our first awesome break dancer. Our first best music video. Our first big room poster. He was incidentally also my first act at my school fancy dress contest!

With his next album 'Bad' his name was fixed to the firmament reserved for the high and the mighty. I remember digging into motown records to buy every MJ album ever relased (farewell my summer love, jackson 5 etc). I remember buying misuc books which had the King of Pop grinning from the cover, his face partially hidden in his diamond stuuded hat. I remember our school bus rides singing songs from his albums and trying to imitate the master's major break dance moves (this was before we were plied with MJ look alike contests, javed jaffery, or even mithun doing the thriller song (hindi phillum style) in 'kasam paida karne wale ki' with catty salma agha!) MJ was our international obsession and a part of our everyday music vocabulary. His album "History' was his last big deal, complete with worldwide publicity, jhakaas videos and a much awaited release. I had to even punch and pinch teenagers out of my way to buy that one!

As for MJ, sadly it was his first steps to being a hostage to fame. A child trapped in a man's body, some said. A man trapped in a womans body, said the others. Hell even accusations that it was an alien trapped in MJ's body, carped stoned out scientologists! It was also the rise of the eccentric. Stories flew fast and furious. About his penchant for surgery, his wishes to become less black more white, his glass encased sleeping quarters, his peter pan obsession, his disney like ranch neverland, his extravagant lifestyle, his surreal fondness for kids and chimpanzes (not like that!), his expensive out of court settlements for child abuse and so on. Even a story that once did the rounds that MJ and janet were the same people!! Some may have been true, most would have have been ridiculous. Poor MJ tried. A high profile wedding to the family of the last king of memphis, two children, even a romantic 'You are not alone' song with wifey s just to convince us all was well with the King. But it wasn't. His last days only got loonier. And way gloomier. Wacko jacko fed the fuel of fickle fame. From a messy divorce, renewed molestation charges, to dangling his child from a balcony much to the amusement of gathered paedophiles and angry protests by clueless protestors , MJ couldn’t ressurect his tainted soul. Fame had exacted much more than MJ had hoped it would, leaving him permanently scarred and troubled. His day had turned to dusk. His last album didn’t do too well spilling blood on the dance floor and beyond. Success became slippery. And MJ never got back.

Infact today I know, MJ was even more powerful. He will be remembered by each of us - in the memories we store. Memories of our own childhood, of innocence, of the thrill of discovering MJ's music, the hours of unalloyed joy listening to that and much more. Remembered he shall be - through the books, the videos, the songs, the lyrics, existing in libraries and record books the world over and in the millions of minds and hearts where MJ and his legacy will remain secure over endless time. Like an idea, MJ shall never die.

Genious. Icon. Maverick. Entertainer. Music maestro.

Long live the King.

Micheal Jackson.(1958-2009)

( I hope you always keep your diamond studded gloves on )

Indian UnfAirlines

2009-06-28T21:27:00.000-07:00

Over the last few decades, unfAIR INDIA Airlines, once the sole bastion of the skies above our heads and now a poor contender to smart age entrants that spring up faster than the dropping hemline of new age starlets, have shown all the tell tale signs of crumbling. Finally not ignoring the writing on the wall, the latest attempt to rake in some moolah by trampling over dadu’s and the didima’s salaries, is yet another half hearted attempt to stem a tide that has left them all but sinking. The strain shows loud and clear and yet rather than take the bull by its horns and raking in a sweeping change in its operations and the way they do business, all that unfAIR INDIA Airlines does is exactly the opposite, applying temporary appendages, hoping someone looks away, praying the wounds disappear. Running an ancient feudal order, protected by the government, and creating cadres of staff, may work in villages but when it comes to good aviation or if I daresay good governance, the list of wrongs hit the stratosphere.

It’s not really about the age of the staff that perturbs us, rather it’s about service, price consciousness and about delivering quality, which I believe is never in the reckoning. All because it is a behemoth and hence above the opinion of those whose taxes pay for the bricks for an edifice set so high. Instead, they scowl at the passengers and act as if its doing us all a bloody favour by doling out years and years of shoddy fly business. Not to add the impregnable strange hold of lobbies, protesting aunty colonies and union groups with red flags whose sole aspiration is to take communism to the skies! If unwarranted audacity and unprofessional temerity had to mate, this was obviously the place for such an insane sight. In fact I propose the aviation ministry to write a book called ‘cluelessness’ since they seem to know it all.

I mean imagine a movie released where a sprightly (?) AK Hangal is the pilot and Lalita pawar and other ex pyt’s but now rather haggish “what have you’s” as the airhostesses, priced at an extortion rate of 200 bucks and then we are all invited to sit and watch and (help!) even enjoy the show. You will then get angry if we ignore this movie and go watch the Akshay Kumar’s and the Kareena’s from the Jet’s and the Kingfishers. You will also get angry if audiences are forced into the theatre, crying hoarse that we have no appreciation for your art and no respect for your time! That we are insensitive to the old age home you have created in rusty flying capsules you call as the latest fleet! Surely there are no free lunches if you remain insignificant and impervious to change, susceptible therefore to being beaten hollow. I mean it reminds me of the time when PSV Eindhoven came to Calcutta to play the unprepared, knees buckling, local team. Nostradamus’s or soothsayer’s were not required to predict the score (think we got trounced 10-1!!!) Also what pisses me off is the confidence stemmed from running a bad enterprise, year after year. It probably benefits some babu who’s probably adjusting his underwear, probably in some office, as I write this, but do we really care! We rather worry about the spiraling down that has happened to an airlines which should have been one of the finest, if only half the bureaucrats, politicians and the old hands of aviation, had done their homework. Homework that has remained unfinished for ages. Homework that was as basic as simple business acumen. My heart in fact goes out to the pilots, ground staffs, air hostesses and the many others who are now being penalized. It’s akin to asking an old band to leave because their songs are those that no one listens to, having run out of tune with the times while the music label promoter, the aviation ministry, tries hard to make excuses of the mistakes they created in the first place, trying to look sorry whilst clocking time chomping on the leftovers. And surely one day when disinvestment happens, they will try to hog the headlines again, just like the good old days. Yipee!

The real possibility that is penciled in, is however far scary. The real possibility is the day when it could cease to exist completely. Being bankrupt and not ashamed is the real possibility. Imagine a nation whose national airline, meant to do us proud, instead makes us wince in horror thanks to our ineffectual ways to solve a simple problem with unnecessary complexity. The real moment of truth is that the day of the Maharaja is gone. And the princely kingdom remains no more

But then again, what’s new?

iWoz@ the theatre festival

2009-06-19T02:00:00.000-07:00

My Collage 2009 - Duality

2009-06-17T23:57:00.000-07:00

Shiney's disco balls

2009-06-16T23:22:00.000-07:00

Aditya Panscholi charged with rape - hmm totally understandable.

Rajesh Khanna charged with molesting a 16 yr old - a little tough to believe. But then when I remember he's the same guy who wore a bandana and crotch tight pants in disco dancer and tried to act like a rockstar, you tend to go beyond the fences in your mind.

But 'angry man' who could also bowl a 'maiden over' Shiney Ahuja admitting to raping the maid? I never saw that coming. Just like I could never have guessed that fergie (from black eyed peas) was once a lesbian. Or that the fat and 'bholu looking' udit narayan actually has two wives. Or that tapas pal is a significant member from the bengal electorate.

Bollywood may have its imaginations and plots as old as the hills, but when it comes to being chased by controversy, our stars take the bakery. While there has been condemnation all around, Shiney, the new co founder of 'hawas ki aag.com' can now find solace in the company he keeps. I am alluding to the others in bollywood, stalwarts like, rajesh khanna , mahesh bhatt, madhur bhandarkar, shakti kapoor, aman verma and anu kapoor who are all a part of a secret society also called as the 'Silluminati', where their inner demons get the better of their external angels. Clearly Shiney with his 'hazaroon khwaishein aisi' was getting a bang from the wrong buck!

Isn't this the same shiney ahuja who won the best debut actor in filmfare in 06 ? The one who was expected to resurrect staple hindi films with his praiseworthy performances. The one who won adulation with his sensitive potrayal in 'Hazaroon' and the same guy who did well in the 'everyone is fucking everybody in this town ' movie 'life in a metro'. Okay barring the movie Hijack where Shiney did the usual, save the world, beat the baddie, romance the hottie and scream like he was getting castrated, he seems okay. He also doesn’t look like prem chopra with the sneer and the staple whisky in hand, gleaming eyes, housecoat wearing and with that 'will do you now ' look! That seems to the most disturbing point in all this? That intersection when you cannot even make the difference between the good and bad. Shiney seems to be a rather 'shining' example of all that is wrong with all that seems right.

Why would Shiney risk all that he had for a simple act of sex ? Was the girl a clever and devious device planted to get the loins of shiney sahab roaring? Was it consensual sex which doesn't make shiney look like the pope, given that he was married. Sure it takes the blame of the rape act away but then shiney needs to explain why would he get down and dirty with someone half his age unless he idolises michael jackson! The cornerstone of my argument is simply that the when it comes to bollywood, the media does come with its stereotypes and paints a bitingly sarcastic picture of the lives of those this nation idolizes. And 'horny ok please' actors like Shiney actually step down from the altar and proves this exaggerated stereotyping and point out the reality of sleaze and silliness inherent in the accepted perceptions of the masses.It proves that reel is real. That is not a comforting thought. I can almost hear the bar dancers of mumbai laughing and saying 'That’s what happens if you don’t let us 'handle with care' these latesht libido's…yeh toh bara hi toying hai!

As for shiney its about time to 'clean' his act.....but then wouldnt he need a 'bai' to do that as well ! Damn !!!

Basic Instincts

2009-06-15T04:22:00.000-07:00

This is Mumaith Khan. She is an actress who has raised! many a eyebrow and other such organs down south with her slutty potrayal of even the most simplest of roles. If the role requires her to pour a cup of water, Mumaith prefers to do it her way. So she prances around the rain, gets wet adequately, flutters her eyebrows suggestively and if theres any time left, then she pours the water. This is her again trying to repulse us with her sharon stone get up. Notice the thunder thighs which I thot were tree trunks initially. We wish you all the luck you need Mumaith. Keep the meaningless acting and whory wisdom in choosing roles going. We appreciate it mucho.

The future of Kolkata - London , Goa and Swiss land

2009-06-15T02:58:00.000-07:00

If Trinamool Congress comes to power, we’ll show what is called development. Tell me why East Midnapore’s vast coastline, Digha, cannot be turned into Goa? Or northern Bengal cannot be developed like Asia’s Switzerland, when we’ve all resources available in these regions?’ Banerjee told a press conference here. She said: ‘Kolkata is an international place and it will be transformed into London, if Trinamool Congress comes to power.’ (http://blog.taragana.com/n/kolkata-will-be-london-in-trinamool-rule-promises-mamata-21081/)

Dear Ladies, Gentlemen, Dukes, Lords, Queens and Duchess,

This is 'oparar' winfrey, India's most famous talk show host, giving you all an guided tour on the new developments in London, which used to be called as Calcutta earlier. Big Sister Margaret who was once known as mamata, has ushered in a new future for london, goa and switzerland. Viewers are requested to exercise their powers of deduction since Goa used to be called Digha earlier and Switzerland is what you would remember as North Bengal.That Margaret is a maverick needs no introduction. Audience will remember how she howled and hawed to uproot (using only grassroot!) the bastions of the 'bum'front government, which was just as impossible as having Rakhi Sawant host a nunnery show. She is also the famous lady who, thanks to her aptitude for eco(nomics) friendliness, said 'ok tata please' to a reputed business house.

Anyways, London city today attracts the largest number of foreign visitors, namely from global places such as nepal, bhutan and bangladesh! These tourists usually spend time in the 'Golden Tree' retreat or at 'Lokermutt', the red light districts of this great city or get stoned at the famed night club 'mushy's canna-bliss' named after an old lady, half of south bengal bought weed from. This hotspot is located somewhere near 'goal'park, the famed soccer junction near southern avenue, home of the new age londonstanis like the chatterati's and the mukheratti's.

London's biggest business house is a sweet shop called Casey Nags (KC Nag) which history holds solely responsible for all those bengalis nagging at everything and anything, unless fed one of their famed 'sugar twisters' also remembered as 'gujiyas'. The job scene has also changed considerably. Today half of london's youth are employed either with BATA (Bongo Association for Total Agitation) or engaged with arts in 'Peaceville' aka shantiniketan! Those unemployed hang around the famed lord's 'bekaary'. When it comes to savoring the delights of the gastronomic kind, try 'Jonty's Roll' aka Jhontu's roll. If you stand and eat, there will be a fine since this is one of the city's new 'fine' dining spots. New rules bar the public from eating or defecating in the street. Parks have been provided all over the city for the same. And as for famous tours to refreshen your spirits try not to miss the 'London Eye' which is just behind the reputed AILA (All India 'Langto' Association) office, the 'Peek a dili Circus' opposite don bosco and the must see 'Ballshowy' ballet at the ice skating rink. For those with an appetite for theatre, choices range between 'Great going peto panchu' 'Jyotsyna the quack's daughter' Ritu's 'porno show' or the very sensitive 'vagina's monologues' by moon moon sin. As for the maidan, change has taken over there as well. New soccer clubs like chelsea chetla, aberdeen agrogami, newcastle newalipore and lancester lake gardens, dot the landscape. If there's any time left, one can easily visit the Marxist memorial where artefacts from the days of the CPIM are kept in glass sealed boxes, just for posterity. The only bengali name that remains today is the planeterium which is now disrespectfully called the 'mai sodon'. Guess the planet stars and our interstellar system, have been spared from londonisation, as yet.

As for Goa which was Digha then, your eyes will moisten at the transformation. It’s a tourist haven. No less. The beach is thronged with 'thonged denizens from all over, where 'all over' means bihar or bhubaneshwar! Even the hungry sharks aren't complaining any more, having gotten more than an occasional snack, thanks to the tourists. The tradional village melas has been replaced by trance shows well attended by the neds (neluyas) and the ness'es ( neshakhors). As for the shacks by the beach, they have stopped trading in local liquor, serving international cocktails like chullu n coke, dheno diaquiri!

Finally for the swiss land, previously known as North Bengal, with its friendly people (read 'khaati maal), 'not so virgin' forests, interlakens, and supershopping spots like siliguri's 'kingkong market', even change couldn’t have done better. Most people visit these areas for adventure sports like 'Sweating in siliguri' ' Gorkha agitation participation' or 'Manhandling in maalbazar'. I suggest you try the 'avalanche in teesta' followed by the 'sickle strike in the teagardens' and the very must 'elephant trampling' which most tourists would die for!
If you have any further questions, you can always reach our PR representative, easily contactable in your neighbourhood, namely the 'trinamool' office and talk to the most available 'hole hellraisers' (phuto mostans).

God bless Margaret!

Yours truly

Oparar' Winfrey

Diamonds are a girls best fiend

2009-06-09T03:40:00.000-07:00

As the opening credits of “Mafat mahal” fade away to the sound of wine glasses clinking, the audience discerns, in the chandelier lit opulence, the supine figure of Sheetal Mafatlal, laughing at the latest gossip. Her top notch bunglow overlooks the mumbai sea but really, it could have been anywhere. The rich after all don't dream, they simply go out to buy.

So its news, when people as powerful as her highness is taken to task. Let's admit it. We have lived to believe that 'kanoon's lambe haath' never quite extend enough to tamper the good living of the lotus eaters. After all, they are the high and the mighty, the rich and the socially significant. The law maybe one sided or heck, even two sided for the most of us, but when it comes to mumbai's moneyed motley crue, perspectives are usually orthogonal. Truths easily distorted. Imagine then, when our champagne sipping, manolo blahnick wearing and gucci donning sheetal mafatlal is caught and cornered with her hands in the cookie jar. More in store as not one of her cackling socialite friends stand by her defence, the only help being hubby who mumbles incoherently about ' her possessing some jewellery' which sounds like just the sort of thing a truant teenager would say when caught shoplifting! Since legal recourse is a laborious process, it is probably a good time to grab your popcorn n coke. You wouldn’t want to miss when her botox starts to show. As it will, in the next 24 hours. Wrinkles, after all, don't remain hidden under hideous layers of money, make up or mascara.

If we were to consider the allegations that have been levelled against her, its obvious that even Nirupa roy's ardent prayers to god with heavenly lines like 'Bhagwanji...main tumhare pas badi arse leke aayi hun' would not work. For way too long, shit-all moofat-lal's and her likes, have ruled page 3, flaunting their lives in the glossies of expensive lifestyle magazines, 'muahing muahing' their way into fashion folklore, shoba de's novels and other inane cheese and wine do's. Infact, if you were to shake the mafatlal family tree, in addition to some monkeys who will drop down, you will also stumble upon ample rotten fruit, controversy and tales from the script with imaginative storylines that make our seasoned karan johars and yash chopras look like celluloid relics. There's one where sheetal's hubby atulya mafatlal has this court battle with ajay over the family property (a 10,000 sq ft flat). Then there's one where atulya's mother madhuri launched a case against her 'pyaari bahu' sheetal for mistreating her. And the grand transsexual finale being the curious case of aparna mafatlal who underwent sex change in 2003 and started calling himself Ajay mafatlal, categorically denying that she had done it to gather favour for the property, but rather to show her undying love to michael jackson! No wonder then, that this 50 lakh tax evasion sounds like petty crime.

As for size -zero sheetal, tonite, will be different. She would have to use her exquisite social skills to hobnob with drug pushers, smack addicts and other petty criminals who will be part of the cognoscenti. Goes without saying, she would not have her favorite versace linens or the pleasure of a 'double scotch' to keep the evening going. This famous lady had once crooned "I am not on page 3 dahling" because I belong to "page 1". For once Sheetal was right.....

AILA- The name of an era

2009-06-05T03:46:00.000-07:00

It was in the sweltering heat of 1990 that 4-5 teenagers formed a formidable organisation, a circle of utmost credo and capability. They had sworn to change the lives of people in lake gardens, which is where they were from, and some other places like dover lane, park circus, deshapriya park, narayener thek, anwarshah road and such, where their random dopey, disillusioned or drunk friends stayed. This group was much more powerful than the henchmen that dr. dang had at his disposal when he went against thespian dilip kumar. This super society secretly decided that the name of their group will never be spoken in public or else catastrophe will occur, much like the rakhi sawant show. They aptly named their group AILA, aka the "All India Langto Association".

Cut to 2009, the members of AILA, having had many years added, were no more 'langto' as they had sworn to be. Things had changed for the worse. Lake gardens had lost its 'khaati maals'and Tapas pal had become a top notch politican. Also the founding fathers were now honorable members of our society and most of them had decent jobs with only a few, still living of their parents. Thats when disaster struck. Some one had betrayed the name of the group. Maybe it was the lure of a women with 'sunder buns' (ample bosoms) or the storm of success had taken them flying into the stratosphere? Whatever be the reason, the name AILA had come out in the open. And just as predicted, disaster struck in the form of a cyclone which effectively blew the living daylights out of cattle and men. The people thought that they had seen it all. The Bengal famine, the CPIM oppression, the cholera pandemic and even mamata's win but their fears became alive when this hurricane hit, such was its fury. Usually most people in bengal quite like cyclones since most seem to bypass into bangaldesh. This was however, different and far far worse. It was as if Bhajji and symmonds were making out.

So when the top minds in bengal met, which couldnt have been too many, in discussion on how to rehabilitate the victims whose lives were destroyed, one of whom I suspect was a friend from our association, the name AILA was sold out. It came to be reckoned as synomymous with this cyclone and all relief camps had AILA written in 'daisy irani' font size. People and public accepted it just like they had accepted moonmoon sen. The press played it to the gallery like gilchrist in IPL. and a household name was born...much to the original founders disgust.

The scene shifts to Bouncy Lodge where Kolke Koney and Bara Bunty talks about this theft of name.They are also discussing profound matters like parar magi's, narayaner thek, lords er mor and bangla panu. So who is the thief?

How will this story end? Will Koney and Bunty find out the traitor in their midst? Will the world know about AILA and how it orginally started out with langto objectives? What will happen to the days of sheer nakedness these groups members had shared ? Will they lose their friendship? And most importantly will some new age, porn director make a blockbuster called 'AILA ke saath LAILA'

To find out keep reading part 2 “AILA maila ho gaya"...

Jai Mata di

2009-06-02T23:46:00.000-07:00

Heavenly mother hear my plea
grant me smokes and serenity
since I pray to appease thee
also give me drinks just for free

there's this woman standing afar
the bitch is grinning with a door set ajar
she tempts us to move but we shall stay
we shall smoke n drink, pray till we sway

grant thy holy blessings only for us
our lungs and kidneys we give thee thus
at the end it will be no wonder
if all of us are six feet under!

Australian humour is really slap n stick

2009-06-01T22:58:00.001-07:00

The best way to understand Australia is to realise that this is a nation that actually shoots and eats the two animals that are on their national crest. No other nation has had such a privelege. That not only makes them unique but also certifies them as weird. The honest truth is that when defining a nation of half arsed sceptics, it is worth noting that God first created Australia with all its beauty and then went on to fill it with dickheads as a trade off. However not all of australia are racist, crooks or murderers. Some of them are folks who simply don't care. Its no surprise, then, that this nation of shielas, blokes, aborigines and wankers has had a government which has done nothing even after 500 attacks on the indian community in the last six months. Muteness usually means inflexibility and mostly insolence and hopefully they have both in abundance.

On one hand there's hugh jackman, mel gibson, inxs, shane warne, kylie minogue and nicole kidman to remind you of what sounds like good australian export. But then when you account for the likes of the famed outlaw ned kelly, the criminal turned writer, gregory david roberts (shantaram), the despicable 'dr. death' dennis allen and the notorious backpack murderer Ivan Milat, the real warts of this bloody nation shows. And who better to face it all than your average hardworking Indian student who have had to tide over the seas and the system to eke a better living. Students who have worked hard to study diligently to make a name. Students who have dabbled dual jobs to provide for themselves. Students who have to face racism, carjacking, street fights, stabbing, robbery and battery to find options within what seems like limited opportunity, on an everyday basis. Now we know what 'obnoxious weed' means? Truly.

There's a solution however. The police have issued warnings and have requested Indian students to not carry laptops, pda's and other 'the good life' stuff which may earn the wrath within the 'not have's' but then, I wonder, what good are these gadgets to an average australian who can't even switch on their computers let alone work their pda to their benefit! Isn't that the very reason they wanted smarter students to begin with? Today India contributes a little less than a lakh students every year which makes us the second largest 'brain' exportee to kangaroo land and all we are assured of, officially, is that we better be careful. Or else just like shravan kumar or rajesh kumar we too may be petrol bombed or knifed out of our wits. The worst part is that we do not even know what has started this anger or hatred? Is it our skin? Is it our success? Or is it that this was always there , only that, the media now plays an active role of essaying out the full frontal as it goes. I asked a few friends and most said this was nothing new. That some australians are racist, mindfucked and white obsessed was never a wonder. That they are gleefully using screwdrivers, bats and bombs to infuse fear within the student community is therefore, just yet aother turn in this road that has lately spread like bush fire.

For those australians who go at lenghts to pontificate about their basic human values need to be given a one sheeter on the various crime this country has subjected its guests too. Historians believe the widespread use of the word "mate" can be traced to the harsh conditions on the Australian frontier in the 1890s, and the development of a code of mutual aid, or mateship. Things have changed considerably since then. Mate is today replaced by bait. And we, the submissive and the sincere are the easy fodder.

There used to be a funny saying in australia that what cannot be fixed with pantyhose and fencing wire, is not worth fixing. But the way things have spiralled down lately, it will take a lot more than thongs or technology to set things right. India and the world will wait to see how things shape up down under....

Please sow your wild oats !

2009-06-01T22:52:00.001-07:00

Condom Vs Kerosene

2009-05-25T01:52:00.000-07:00

Let me be honest in saying the article below caused me much discomfort. Much like the genital warts, that may have put Shoaib akhtar out of the 'ball'ing business. Read below:

" May 23, Lucknow: Bizarre it may sound, but a clash over condoms at a fair price shop has left three persons seriously injured. According to reports, the nephews of Dwarika Prasad Agarwal, who owns a fair price shop at Katra Bizen Beg at Chaupatiya in Saadatganj police circle, were distributing kerosene to ration card holders on Friday evening.

The supply inspector, Govind Shukla, reached the shop and asked the boys at the shop, Jitendra and Vinay, to distribute free condoms along with kerosene since it was a directive from the government. As soon as the boys gave some condoms to women customers along with kerosene, the women began shouting at the boys. Soon enough, a large crowd gathered at the shop and this led to a clash between the locals and the shop owners who insisted that they were merely following the government directive.

Jitendra, Vinay and another employee were badly thrashed by the mob that insisted the boys were trying to insult the women "

(http://www.deccanchronicle.com/national/condom-clash-leaves-3-injured-833)"

Now Indian democracy has indeed come a long way. One of first tell tale signs that the government is understanding the pscyhe of what the common man or women needs is by connecting two of our greatest past times, namely, food and sex. Lets admit it. Cooking and copulation has been our national favorite past time for a while now, right ? To endorse this, I have the support of a million food and sex starved fellow bretherns and a old fable which begins like,' …every house in this country wakes up after the cock crows..!!!'

When I first heard about this unique system of doling out condoms with kerosene, I was happy. Does sound rather idealistic and worthy of praise doesn't it. But then little did I realise that sometimes even idealism is reckoned as an idiotic inexplicable and inflexible obsession. And the frothing, fuming and foaming 'psuedo sickular' junta of UP, has proved just that. They are okay with the kerosene, also known as 'mitti ka tel' which is largely used for cooking and other associated things like dousing the unsuspecting bahu and burning her to the ground. But condoms? My, my. How dare they? I can well imagine hundreds of langda tyagi's and equal minded bums from UP baying for blood.

But why blame the poor government. Since our public distribution system cannot ensure safe food, at least it tries to do its bit by ensuring safe sex. That is not wrong. I can understand godly clash between panadvas and kauravas, or say of ungodly battles between aliens and predators, but a battle ground for 'condoms and kerosene'. What is this nation coming to?

But what do these people in Saadatganj think?
Let’s find out in this exclusive 'U.P.Yours' TV news report.

Salim is 16 years old and works in a cycle repair shop. This is what he had to say.

'I am horrified by the governments audacity. I mean come on man. Nobody uses a condom here. I did use one a year back but that was only because it was bablu's birthday and we had to decorate his tea stall. I am quite positive my 10 year old wife wouldn’t want me to wear one. We only have 3 children. Don't these govt. chutiyas know that? I suspect this is some angrez ploy or the BJP's idea to make us weak and defenceles. Masculinity proven, he walked away into the sunset singing a song from the movie 'mard'

Rajo is 24 years old. She is a housewife.

'I am educated and know my rights. I am going to file a PIL against a government that is so vulgar. I have been given only a few litres of kerosene but when it came to the condoms those men wanted to shower their affections in over abundance. Who do they think I am? Meera Mausi.

And it’s not just the younger generation who have voiced their opinion.

Meera mausi is 43. She has a day job doing menial work here and there and a graveyard shift responsibility as a highway prostitute helping fellow truckers and some occasional visiting govt officials. In her case, predicaments begin early.

(Anger dripping) ' Beta I have delivered some 12 to 20 children and am older than your mother. In fact how many I have borne I cannot even remember. It is already tough being the official village bicycle, making sure all men have taken a ride. Imagine my fright when they handed me a condom with my kerosene. I initially thought it was a toffee or something from the town. I am so hurt. Are they expecting me to suggest to these 'lomris' to use one ? I did be fairly happy if they took off their pyajamas or lungis, to begin with'

Lala Ram lal is 87. He has run a grocery opened before independence.

'I have been here a very long time. Nothing works here. The water is adulterated, the milk is all water and the ration food is so bad that I sometimes think we are still using the leftovers from 1939. I am sure the kerosene and the condoms are adulterated as well. And more than this. I have already been a victim , way back when sanjay gandhi did his population control thingie. They took my manhood away. And now they give me free condoms. Isn't it rather unfair, he says his voice choking, tears accumulating in his glazed eyes.

Readers may recall that very often such lofty, high moraled government led development is a double egded sword. As mamata banerjee has already proven, even good things can be easily undone and elections won on account of that undoing. That’s how it works here. Clearly, in this case, the condoms have been the essential fuel for the people to stand and squat up for their rights. Right of making out, of having unrestricted sex and of having so many children that even sanjay gandhi spins in his grave. Don't stop these free thinking loins of lucknow.

a new invention : rest watches!

2009-05-20T23:27:00.000-07:00

Sanam Teri Kasam -15 saal baad

2009-05-20T03:39:00.000-07:00

“After a long wait of 15 years, Pooja Bhatt and Saif Ali Khan starrer Sanam Teri Kasam (initially titled Sambandh) will finally hit the theatres this year. The film got stuck in a legal tussle between the makers Sudhakar Bokade and Ultra.” ..May 20’ 2009 (full news http://ibnlive.in.com/news/pooja-bhatt-back-on-the-silver-screen-after-15-yrs/92941-8.html

Armed with a memory that cannot remember anything from yesterday, unless you are talking about last week’s porn, I tried to retrace in phillum style flashback, a few things that were around 15 years ago. It was the good old days of STD booths, the veritable grounds where lascivious lover’s crooned and college girl’s gossiped. Gillette presto had just come to India and helped a few of my friends look less like bigfoot and more like ‘salim chikna’. And midnight masala at the ‘tele’ took care of our night falls, giving us glee for free. Damn, there was no desibaba or mama’s yet, but that’s another story. Things were basically pretty good.

In Bollywood, however things weren’t that great. Pooja Bhatt, then, looked more like a man, complete with a ravana hairdo and a husky voice that could put Big B out of business. His father, the big ‘bhatt’(big talk) had an opinion on everything. From ‘how to control mice population’ to ‘what’s wrong with smooching my daughter’, he had his distorted point of view, desperate to make a New York out of Navi Mumbai. Things were no better for oxford returned ‘royal’ toy boy, Saif Ali Khan. He used to be a good looking actress those days with demure silky voice and a dialogue delivery score that ranged from bad to ‘get the %^*& outta here’ . It didn’t help that he had feminine wavy hair that occasionally reaffirmed his ‘twat’ status. I do know of a few bengali mothers who were adept at dolling their boys, just for kicks. Saif was a living example of that very belief. Sudhakar Bokade, the producer was a big name then as well. In addition to being a sleaze ball and an underworld mover shaker, he was also a visionary pimp. He had it all. The desidrohi-ness and debauchery of Dr. Dang, the menace of Mocambo and the garrulous geriatrics of Gabbar.

Sanam Teri Kasam tried to cash in on this very chemistry. Then called ‘Sambandh’, this movie should have seen the light of day. It was a true pioneer. It had the potential to be the first bollywood flick to advocate transsexuality, a taboo subject then. With both the leads looking like opposite sexes, literally, they had it all going. Had this movie been released it could have been a catalyst for social change, creating awareness on sexual disbalances and encouraging a future pipeline of broadminded Indians to be socially and sexually liberated. Indians who would not have to wait for a Bobby darling or Prasad bidappa, years later, to be told how it is. Sure there would be critics. There would be protests. There would be many who would call this sambandh ‘sick’ or ‘perverted’. But remember, one man’s kink is always another’s everday routine!

Yet another extinct tiger

2009-05-19T00:10:00.000-07:00

Last found with bullet marks that may have dislodged half his face, his eyes silent and still, the last of the tigers conceded defeat. Not so much against the sri lankan government but more so, as a protest against those muted nations who did nothing to prevent a ethnic genocide the scale of which makes saddam hussein look like the pope. I am not the most voiceferous propounder of shooting civilians. Neither of bombing areas where the most vulnerable of any victim, nameless children and women, reside. I am also not sure how peace is established by killing, miaming and rendering useless, innocent tamil civilians with impunity? With no foreign press and no international sing song, the sri lankan forces finally succeded to suck out a movement three decades old. A movement which began against succesive sinahlese governments attempt to stifle the shout of the common tamil people, a movement that pledged a separatist state for ethnic tamils who constitue 12% of the population, a movement which gave the minority of oppressed tamilians, faith and hope. That very hope is however gone today.

In fact I googled the eelam website, which was last updated in 2007 and found that while the world may not have changed a lot in the last two years, their world had. And to imagine these were one of the very few, if not the only terrorist organisation, which once had its own air force and naval base. Champagnes may pop in the army barracks and there may be drunken revelry amongst the politicos, celebrating a victory that is as confounded as it is contrite. So while they may have won the war, they have just lost the battle to restore rights to a minority, who never saw much rights to begin with.

Sometime today, news channels will talk of rehabilitation, UN, human rights and war crimes. Websites will show images of the slain leader. Dailies will bring forth analysis, suggestions even, on how to solve the crisis of rehabilitating millions of people, but none of the various medias, will talk about how the 'respected' and 'credo conscious' international community turned a blind eye to something so basic as one's fight for legacy and freedom.

There is an important story to tell to our children when asked about the LTTE. We just need to be sure we have the right set of truths and not believe what the sri lankan government would like us to believe or what it keeps feeding its international journalists who write with glee what the next toursit wants to listen!

a limerick dedicated to 'didi'

2009-05-18T02:41:00.000-07:00

There was this lady from bengal
who could rave, rant and stall
progress and other areas of growth
her fight with the left legendary
their powers, she would loath
she formed her own party which was rather cool
just for added sentiment, she called it trinamool
then came the big daddy and gave her a 'hand'
she fought with it, but jilted, returned to her land
maati and manush she said 'please use your matha (head)
so hell with the reds and hell with the tata
down the communist bastards of yore
let us relegate them to folklore
and suddenly this time the gods smoking bidi
conspired to give a lucky strike to didi
so here we are phacing bhinds of change
didi is now a dada, that ees rather straaaange...

Mamata, Mati and Manush

2009-05-18T02:00:00.000-07:00

There used to be this standard belief in Bengal that 'Mamata is a little crazy'. But then when one has to counter the eternal dominance of the left and its dreaded party cadres in a state that has used, for years, the renewable equivalent of 'gimme red', maybe that helps. And how.

Mamata's anger at the left was single-minded, unwavering and unrelentless over the years. And finally it has stood the test of time. And I agree when someone says that today in bengal, mamata signifies more 'left' ideals than the left itself, which under Buddha, had started to look more like babumoshais with white 'dhootis' who have a penchant for all things MNC.

Most bengalis from the urban area doesnt really take too kindly to Mamata. As a member of such a group, I myself would doubt her values considering she isnt pro industrialisation. Also as a politician her claim to fame has been to fuss and fret at the center and haggle for power (hard to please as she is), to throw out the Tatas from Singur, and handle a train portfolio without much steam. In fact giving her a position is akin to letting ma kali render her dance of death on the remains, skulls and the graves of leftist leaders but then such was the frustration and such were the options that today its mati, manush and mamata.

What worked in her favour was the muslim vote which stood by her, the fear from farmers that yet another land grabbing politburo programme may affect them and the vote of the middle class who can see through the fake ideals of the famed 'Karat and stick (or should it be Yechury) method'.

Though this may provide 'exclamatory gasps' from seasoned election predictors (which is also a profession!) I do not find it strange. In fact I would now like to see what happens in the assembly elections next year which may well define a new charter in calcutta's history. and perhaps, a new beginning for all of bengal to rejoice at....

calcutta for change

2009-05-13T01:46:00.000-07:00

The silence in Calcutta is deafening. A few days before the election results are out, like the proverbial lull before a storm, there is a quietness in the street so permeating that you could say 'dhudhu korche mairi' which is the bengali equivalent of an exasperated it's completely empty'! The tension is palpalable, and hangs like an old moshari (net), doing well to keep the prying media mosquitoes guessing. Like the scene where the villain is holding the heroine over the edge and mithun has to decide what to do, the public is tensed which way the game will swing. will the hero save her? Will the hold of the villain go? Or will there be a last minute miracle are, some of the scenarios being chinese whispered between passing joints, cutting chais and shared singaras across bongland. From dumdum to chetla, debates now rage on around parties, votes, standing and domination. The only ones out there are the gundas and the 'phuto' mastans of the area, planning and plotting, their only company, cigarettes and chullu. I ask Nilu an old friend and he says these elections could well go down bengal's spine as one of its most important decisions this decade. he says the whiff in the air indicates that things will be diff this time. The old bastions will crumble, newer ones will be built and progess will be possible. it sounded so good , like the happy ending, of a bollywood family drama, complete with tearjerker scenes and picture perfect moments, that i shared his vision for a bit, trying to imagine the change he can so clearly see. So what did I visualise? Well the cat shall be out of the bag in a few days, once the results are out! Till then pray for bengal and its betterment! In nilu's words , it will all be fatafati!

Trainspotting : an old favorite.. remains true even today!

2009-05-11T22:30:00.001-07:00

mahabharata- afro shtyle!

2009-05-08T02:31:00.000-07:00

The scene is not a televised version of the mahabharata for the discerning african audience. Rather this disturbing image is of a inter tribal war somewhere in western kenya. The rather heady mix of capitalism and ethnic confusion has created some of the fiercest battles this side of the dark continent. It has also brought together modernity with the primeveal instincts of yore. So while you have bows and arrows, there's also nike shoes and GAP dungarees. While some men hack the limbs of others with machetes, you may find a group of the marauding murderes sipping coke and munching chocolate bars, as if nothing is wrong. And while the western world reflects and reads reports of brutality and bloodshed, murder most foul keeps happening in a land where locals believe a cattle has more security than a human being. It is not difficult to see why as many of them feel that way considering they have been left to face their uncertain fate on their own. And hope seems to be a non visiting relative.

Sreesant , women and some more

2009-05-08T00:24:00.000-07:00

why is sreesant contemplating moving to dubai?
cos he likes the dates, minus the women!!!

why sreesant doesnt need a woman?
cos hes got men slapping him anyways!

whats sreesants biography on cricket called?
the crying game!

what makes sreeseant gay?
His statement saying I rather not have a women and concentrate on the game with the boys!!!!!!!!!

When its recession, save on medical costs

2009-05-06T02:34:00.000-07:00

The real reason why infra companies are badly hit

2009-05-06T02:29:00.001-07:00

Another day in paradise

2009-05-06T01:54:00.000-07:00

I wasn't refering to the Phil collins song, rather, about our famous Paradise biriyani house where at least two generations of most hyderabadis have been fastidiously well fed. and the place has indeed changed from the one standard shack tea stall it used to be once 50 years back, to the full fledged AC dining wala restaurant, therefore, looking set to feed traditionally at least two generations more. even today, such is its popularity that most visitors to the twin cities would never leave town (even with a gun to their head !) without savouring this famous meal. it is just one of those must go places, a cultural mandate if I can call that, just like sightseeing. a part of local folklore and an unresolved mystery to those who dont reside here, paradise, true to the name, takes you to culinary heaven as it always has. after all, legend has it, that the biriyani here bears the seal of the royal house of the nawabs , in its style and preparation, in its cooking appeal and in its taste and finery of accompaniments. in doing so, it follows a route that is no less than 300 years old. The legacy is assumably heavy, but paradise with its unflinching appetite for consumption, carries it well and seems committed to creating gluttony, now and forever. Sure there are close cousins, distant relatives and far flung associations with paradise since i keep noticing new eateries mushrooming with similar names like golden paradise, central paradise etc but it doesnt take the sheen of the real thing. Like they say, class is permanent.

the short story of a honorary member

2009-04-28T22:34:00.000-07:00

Just as usual I was running a fine comb at my junk mails and discovered to one's undelight that most seem to talk of my member or advertise products that is supposed to enhance mr johnny down under. well the concerned mails ranged from "increase your size, now " (almost seemed like a diktat), to blow her out of her mind with your schlong (hmm? so do i hit her with it !!!) or 'do away with small penis" (chomp it off?). To render an effective visual example here goes exhibit A -

So I had to rise to the occasion since my conscience was pricked ! and I did a quick search on the various sizes worldwide to connect the slew of obscene mails from my well endowed brothers over the seven seas. I am sure most indian men may think small is beautiful but then i aqm positive most indian men don't know anything about john holmes (refer boogie nights)!!! a look at the various members of the world in exhibit B should tell you more-

This called for serious research. after all this is no small issue. a BBC report I came across said "condoms made according to international sizes are too large for a majority of Indian men."

Now this issue looked far more serious and worrying than mere conjecture about a good hard on. i mean since we live in a country with quite a population, and those things don't fit , that would mean more children , Aids, veneral disease , what may you. now i wonder if condoms are too big, either someone should make them smaller or maybe the govt outta dole out free enhancement pills. anyways we indians are a harried lot and worry a lot about things around us. I also hear in another article that ' most men worry about size'. damn this means our worries are evermore and now come in all sizes. Clearly the recession is not only out there...its probably down and thriving as well!

Jus joking

2009-04-28T05:10:00.000-07:00

If varun gandhi became unwell what would you call it ?
Swine flu

a short film contest ...last date 30th april

2009-04-27T05:49:00.000-07:00

So you cant choose between a 1500 sft or a 2000 sft?

2009-04-26T21:06:00.000-07:00

What do you think of the downturn?
Are you worried that you may loose your job?
Running scared you wont be able to pay that EMI?

The fact is that we will be the least affected by this recession considering how hard it will hit the ones who have no real money or even remote access to it. Imagine the plight of millions of workers who earn their daily bread making roads we zip by, creating buildings that have swanky flats we so badly want and doing those menial jobs we would look down upon for decades. We depend on these mutes and the marginalised ; those who eat less in a day than what we consume in minutes, those who earn lesser in a month, than what we expend in a few hours, and those who have more worries generated every day of their living , that we wouldn't have till the day we die. They are the ones who have a recession and a few economic questions on their hands and answers for none.

Let's admit it , we are a greedy bunch of undeserving accumulates who have got more than we deserved. We are a generation who have educated our children, put them in good schools, saw them through their major achievements and yet spawned a counter culture that taught them to ignore the weak, the poor, the class diminished , ensuring their and our focus in life is all about that extra bonus, that premier movie ticket and that dinner for four in a nice restaurant. We called it our middle class values and put a smiling family in front to pose with it.

Also let's look at how our choices have been hit by this recession. We can still buy a santro but damn we miss buying that skoda! We can still buy a 1000 sft but we are depressed we cannot buy that 2000 sft!! And we can still go to goa but this time we cannot go to bangkok!!! This is the state we are in and therefore we shout the loudest about how the recession has hit us. Its small fry and a ridiculous joke on our selves. We put this huge machine for greed like say the trojan horse and year after year, we were born in the underbelly of this monster scourging for profits, digging for gold. The entire noveau rich and a greater part of our middle class aspired in this muck and expected the nation to respect their tilted aspirations. Bloody hypocrites that we have always been.

Getting wealthy is fine. I do not consider that an evil given that there are so many other malice and vices out there. But ignoring the fate of millions who are not as well of as us, ignoring the poorest of the poor, hiding our eyes from the images of filth and more has somewhere within a somewhere, spawned a vicious circle that have allowed these wounds to fester and those cries to be unsilenced. We never speak of that India. And silently in our homes, or in the theatre halls amidst chomping burgers we cringe when a british fillmaker shows them all to us. And then we complain about a recession, citing our tax playing example to impress our mother in laws and other listeners. We have ignored a majority, thanks to our minority of values.

The fact is that all of us will survive to see another day, my worries are reserved only for those who will not. The reality is that we will all get back to our usual harvesting of wealth and it shall be business as usual while some will slip unnoticed into darkness. The truth is you and I will survive while some poor family will not. And we won't still do anything about it. Thats the biggest worry of all. And this concern shall remain. The recession however won't.

Ad for KITKAT

2009-04-24T00:14:00.000-07:00

IPL Jokes

2009-04-23T21:50:00.000-07:00

What brand would the Chennai and Punjab team promote if they took off their pants?
Cocks and Kings!

So mandira comes to the show with hair all ruffled leaving her commentator colleagues a little surprised. She however mantains a dignified silence. When asked she said it was nothing, just a big gayle!

What does Shane Warne do after the matches?
Everything!

If the romantic jodi of SRK, Ganguly and Buchanan were made into a movie, what would it be called?
Buchana(n) Yeh Haaseeno

Suggestions for a vacation!

2009-04-23T21:18:00.000-07:00

Harried, hassled, heartbroken and being humped by the hecticness?

The time has come to take that much needed vacation, a break so as to say. Most of our vacations largely exists in the pleasure craving crevices of our mind. Some of em get knocked of the bucket list but most remain till you knock off the bucket or get knocked off your mind!!! So what if, say, I gave you an idea where you could take that vacation anywhere you wanted in Asia; from jamming in japan, or basking in borneo, to making out in malaysia, and all of this for free! Yup...not a penny paid. zilch. Hmm...so now that I have your undivided attention along with your silly grin and unremitted enthusiasm, take this down and listen up.

On the 21st of July go somewhere near a beach, wear a life saving jacket and wait a while. Keep your slippers away you fool. No it has nothing to do with reputed tour travellers clamouring for business, nor about free tourist buses, ditto for a chick in a bikini , in case you and your idiocy expected. It's just that the next tsunami is ready to take you places! It may also wipe that grin off your face but really, in a planet where even people and careers can't take you places, the weather will. Also by exploiting this natural phenomena to your advantage it will show you are a great manager, since you would have exhibited true opportunism. That should help during the next performance appraisal, just so if you live!

P.S.
Send us some gifts and share your experiences from the limitless possibility of destinations at your and nature's furious disposal!!! Bon voyage

I am no juggler ...

2009-04-20T03:28:00.000-07:00

but these are some of the things I am juggling with this week...

A working script on one of the '5 senses' for our next theatre play
Trying to finish 'What Should I Do with my Life' by Po Bronson
A plan to bring down my nutrition levels before my weight shoots up!
A horror film called 'Walled In' with Mischa Barton
Understanding more about vertical living
Reading up on the various booster shots the economy needs for getting stimulated!
Thinking of ways to complete a 2 min movie which must involve a bicycle and a boy!!

MC Escher : An artist beyond compare

2009-04-18T02:21:00.000-07:00

(He used perfect maths in his drawings, he created impossible gradients in his works and he made lithographs that invite you in its visual trance. Check the works of MC Escher and you will know why the dutch master deserves every tribute)

a hole in the sky

2009-04-18T02:19:00.000-07:00

We are a rock revolving
Around a golden sun
We are a billion children
Rolled into one
So when I hear about
The hole in the sky
Saltwater wells in my eyes
-Julian Lennon (one very old favorite)

The Axe Effect - prevention

2009-04-17T21:23:00.001-07:00

The Axe Effect - before and after

2009-04-17T21:21:00.001-07:00

The Axe Effect - very democratic

2009-04-17T21:03:00.001-07:00

The Axe Effect - a two trumps up!

2009-04-17T20:53:00.000-07:00

The Axe effect - yeh dosti

2009-04-17T20:51:00.001-07:00

Not a happy price menu - a one act play

2009-04-16T05:13:00.000-07:00

A doctors chamber. 21 year old Raj walks into Dr Gowd ’s (shrink)'s office, lays across the leather couch in front of the large window out looking the city and waits patiently. On the door of the doctor is a sign ‘ In Gowd you trust’

Receptionist: please wait...gowd would be with you soon. (giggles)

Moments later Dr. Gowd walks calmly through the door and sits in the black leather computer chair behind the black and silver aluminum desk, that had a white marble name plate with "Dr. Gowd " engraved in gold.

Dr. Gowd : "so. Raj. tell me. why are you here today?"

Raj: "well doc, ya see? i have been having some awfully strange dreams lately and they have given me quite a scare. these nightmares have had a bigger impact on my life than any dream should. Ello …are you listenin "

Dr. Gowd : "what do u mean am I listening….thats what I get paid for….so anyways….what KIND of nightmares have you been having that have had such an impact on your life?"

Raj: "it's the strangest thing really, the dream always starts out as me and a couple of my old friends from my call center on my birthday party. "

Dr. Gowd : " mhmmm."

Raj: "My friends decide to take me to mc donalds as a super neato birthday present. But when we get there is when it turns ugly."

Dr. Gowd : " i see...now, what happens that makes it turn "ugly"?"

Raj: " see?...when we first got there we were all pumped because, helooo, we were at mc donalds with all those juicy cheese dripping , coke filled funfare!" [rolls eyes] "anyway, when the burgers come out i get really excited thinking they are gunna sing me a birthday song or do a little jig. boy was i wrong on that. they sang a song, but it sure wasnt a birthday song...let me demonstrate..."

[Raj sets up on the couch and grabs the dark brown teddy bear with one eye and light blue ribbon tied around it's neck, that was sitting just below where his head was.]

Raj: "now...pretend this is an burger

Dr. Gowd : *nod* "go on..."

Raj: "ok..." Raj holds the bear by the waist and sets one foot on his knee, changing the bears position with every second while singing "oompa. loompa. doop a dee DIE!!, you cant run away. but if you want. you can TRY!!"

Dr. Gowd : "i can see how that could be disturbing...i guess?" how terribly horribly scaringly simple …a singing burger…why that sounds strange and petrifying!!!!

Raj: "yea. i know. but thats not all. It aint just singing. Its freaking me out. the little burgers had ya know ….turned to monsters and had lasso's made of straw rope. they would get the rope circled around our ankles while we were trying to runa away, causing us to trip and fall over our own feet."

Dr. Gowd : "ummmm....?"

Raj: " then when they got us down they would run over to us, watch us with their burger eyes and then they used guns that had french fries as bullets and shot my friends dead...while they were reloading, i had enough time to untie myself and get away, somewhat. it was only seconds later that they were hot on my Ass. right when they threw the rope to capture me again...I WOKE UP!!!. and ever since, i havent been able to go near any kind of mc Donald product."

Dr. Gowd : "you say this was all a dream?"

Raj: " yes sir."

Dr. Gowd : " and how often do you recall have this weird Ass dream?"

Raj: "about 4 times in the last week."

Dr. Gowd : "mhmm...i see..." *doodles on his paper with one hand, running his other through his thin silver hair.*

Raj: "so whats the damage doc?"

Dr. Gowd : "well Raj, i have come to the conclusion that you are completely insane. and quite possibly be THE biggest stoner this world has ever seen...i think you may have had a couple too many joints in your day. Let me guess? You probably stay with roommates who get high as well. You sicko. i have never in my many years as a shrink dealt with anyone so messed up. you are beyond any kind of help that i am able to offer. i am a shrink, and not a dietician. How the hell am I supposed to know what your burger chasing escapades are all about? I am not even talking about the French fries bit. But let me help you anyways you weird fuck. im pretty sure the place your looking for is a rehab center...you should really check into that. your coming here has been a total waste of your money and my time and i am looking forward to never seeing you, or hearing your pointless rants again!...good day to you sir."

Raj; do you think I am joking. Oh what sort of a doctor are you if you cant see the obvious. Don’t you realize. It must be a metaphor, a meaning or something

Doctor- it does . it means you are a fruit cake. A fucking degenerate youngster with nothing more than chomping burgers to worry about. Scoffing …

Raj- tell me there is dope…..hope I meant…sir please....what have I done (hysterical) for the fish fillet to have shot at me….looking around scared

Doctor: please get going now. I have work to finsh, more clients to meet and then I am expecting my family to drop in since I have to take them out…

Little boy comes running into the room chomping a burger…says..” daddy let’s go out…..mom's in the car and she wants the happy price menu as well....

{Raj sees the burger, burst into tears and runs out of the room crying hysterically, only to slip on some of the burger sauce that the little boy had spilled earlier. when he realizes what he had slipped on, he pees in his pants and then dies…..}

Song to be Sung by the Father of Infant Female Children

2009-03-25T21:16:00.000-07:00

My heart leaps up when I behold
A rainbow in the sky;
Contrariwise, my blood runs cold
When little boys go by.
For little boys as little boys,
No special hate I carry,
But now and then they grow to men,
And when they do, they marry.
No matter how they tarry,
Eventually they marry.
And, swine among the pearls,
They marry little girls.
Oh, somewhere, somewhere, an infant plays,
With parents who feed and clothe him.
Their lips are sticky with pride and praise,
But I have begun to loathe him.
Yes, I loathe with loathing shameless
This child who to me is nameless.
This bachelor child in his carriage
Gives never a thought to marriage,
But a person can hardly say knife
Before he will hunt him a wife.
I never see an infant (male),
A-sleeping in the sun,
Without I turn a trifle pale
And think is he the one?
Oh, first he'll want to crop his curls,
And then he'll want a pony,
And then he'll think of pretty girls,
And holy matrimony.
A cat without a mouse
Is he without a spouse.
Oh, somewhere he bubbles bubbles of milk,
And quietly sucks his thumbs.
His cheeks are roses painted on silk,
And his teeth are tucked in his gums.
But alas the teeth will begin to grow,
And the bubbles will cease to bubble;
Given a score of years or so,
The roses will turn to stubble.
He'll sell a bond, or he'll write a book,
And his eyes will get that acquisitive look,
And raging and ravenous for the kill,
He'll boldly ask for the hand of Jill.
This infant whose middle Is diapered still
Will want to marry My daughter Jill.
Oh sweet be his slumber and moist his middle!
My dreams, I fear, are infanticiddle.
A fig for embryo Lohengrins!
I'll open all his safety pins,
I'll pepper his powder, and salt his bottle,
And give him readings from Aristotle.
Sand for his spinach I'll gladly bring,
And Tabasco sauce for his teething ring.
Then perhaps he'll struggle though fire and water
To marry somebody else's daughter.

--Ogden Nash

of skin like sand

2009-03-24T03:06:00.000-07:00

Its like a memory imagined, a notation scribbled, a picture caressed in hues of shine. Of a darkness that surrenders to the dawn. the subtle rays of the sun, soft and promising, crisscross patterns on the half lit floor, and through the curtains, a day emerges. our lamp is still lit, as we sit and talk, unaware that time has changed, cradled and lost, as we were, in our arms. I smoke a cigarette, you sneak a smile. we both try to remember a tune, we sing in silence. I follow your shadow when I hear the sound of water. raindrops like petals parch the ground beneath your feet. you turn but all i see is a fleeting glimpse of a vanishing silhouette. thats when i notice the glint on the floor. a little piece remains, which once meant a part for the whole of us. I keep it safe within a book we both once read. the one that had the picture of a beach shack and a sea....

Miss 'not too' Goody two shoes

2009-03-23T23:24:00.000-07:00

Rags to riches and then some! Jade Goody's death has made me wonder at how commercial commercial can be. Its lucky we haven't seen advertised services running at the bottom like a ticker as her body may have been taken out. Considering its all over, she now at last, gets the privacy she deserves. The privacy she never had while she was alive. Goody's climb to fortune was as quick as her fall, given that, her much celebrated big brother appearance made a dive down, no thanks to her racist comments. one of them being (about shilpa)...' i have seen how she goes in and out of people's arseholes!!! she was also the first celebrity on the show to have a sex romp! However a cancer which ran her time out quicker than the actual duration she had survived the reality show (which was considerable), put her to sleep forever. Her life was jaded and she was no goody but in her hype, her much reality tv led existance, her much publicised death and her last few acts of good(y)will, she would be remembered.

2009-03-23T23:08:00.000-07:00

UNDO - Learn from gmail, apply in life

2009-03-22T22:16:00.000-07:00

To err is human. And to rectify this online we now have gmail with its new 'undo' feature. Google understands this and with "Undo Send," it lets users abort/stop sending of any Gmail message--if you use it within 5 seconds. Undo Send lets you snatch an email back before it gets sent out. Other error understanding features already available are Gmail's ability to watch for words like "attached" in an e-mail and to check you if you’ve actually attached something, and a feature in Google Apps that puts orange frames around the names of e-mail recipients that are not from your company and therefore warning you just in case you accidentally send something confedential out and regret about it later.
I am in love with the notion of ”undo”. There are so many things we do now that we later wish we shouldn't. How often do we say something that we regret later, send something that we wish we hadn't. How often do we err now and err again later. Just look at our current mess. isn't our financial world reeling from one human error after another. Imagine how forceful 'undo' could be in our lives if say we could have an undo feature for every purchase we make and chances are we would want to change 50% of those impulse buys, an undo feature for all the bad things we have said to others and chances are we would like to recall all that we said and finally an undo feature in marriages so that either side can opt out in say a months time if things don't work out. If only god was a google and had a bunch of angel programmers who could 'undo' ....the world would be so much better. Our lives so much simpler. Till then...bless google!

Just Joking - the indian election

2009-03-22T21:39:00.000-07:00

Why is madonna so interested about our elections?
someone told her we may have a (well) hung parliament
Why are leaders our 'sole' option?
Cos we can throw chappals anytime we want. (yeah)
Why is indian politico, varun gandhi nursing a wound?
cos he believes all his speeches are doctored!
What's the difference between varun and a bucket of shit?
The bucket
What's the difference between varun and mahatma gandhi?
Mahatma conducted a fast to stop the riots. Varun conducted the riots.. fast!

indian politics - a karat and stick approach

2009-03-22T21:27:00.000-07:00

That time of the year is here. And indian politics roars as the number one topic dominating all our acknowledged senses and rightfully so. We do not have military machiavelli's trying to rule us, nor dictators with diktats, ours is a democracy and a huge one at that. when i was small i believed we have more gods than seasons....now it looks like we have more parties than gods. No thanks to the third front, we also suddenly seem to have more mathematicians with everyone counting and adding up to understand how we would fare. What seems to work again is the karat and stick method. Yet another attempt to form a third dominant force which am sure would help confuse voters even more. I just wish what emerges from this farce is at least one party that assumes the confidence of the masses and makes way for a tenure. Right now a 'well hung!!!" parliament looks likely and that cannot be good news. After all, one cannot construct with ten architects at the helm. we need one party. we need one representation. let the karat and stick policy fail ...or else just like everything else in our lives, our leaders will also be a compromise. that , we can't let happen.

Cloak encounters of the third kind!

2009-03-16T01:51:00.000-07:00

Isn't technology meant to be a little more helpful. Okay so we have come a long way. Now I can connect my cellphone to my lappie and download movies and watch it in my hi powered wristwatch. I can obviously instruct my hi fi refrigerator to tell me when beer is over. I can zero in on my home 3500 kms away and see to glory my unnamed street. And I could throw cows at my friends over applications and watch them throw their underwear at me , thankfully , virtually. I could if I was kinkier, get gizmos that clean my teeth faster than i could or say make me vibrate quicker than i would! But what now of the invisible cloak. I hear it could create image-illusions and help distort reality. Now considering the cost it could be bought at, only CEO's or likewise could afford such apparitioned apparels and thats no good news. They who have used more cloaks in secrecy than the templar legacy, they who have made more financial illusions than anyone, now gets a hand on these hi fi clothes sounds like a stanley kubrick plot come true and gone horribly wrong. Just imagine the emperor without clothes story and replace emperor with your most hated ceo. ...yuck! Somebody might as well discover a zap gun so that we can knock em off existance or kapow them into the interstellar system. Now that is what i would like my technology to do.

Hyderabad = Heat

2009-03-16T01:39:00.000-07:00

Shed. Clothes from my body, hair from my head and blankets from my bedroom. You did earn a free semester at hogwarts if you can keep the heat away. Learn how to master the magic of keeping yourself from getting toasted. I need to figure out how to do so, without looking nude. I wonder how to uncover completely from head to toe and I keep thinking of how to get this heat away. Darn this working life. Darn this recession. I need a vacation to cooler climes or at least a beach and a nudist one at that!

Recession is from oooh to aaah!

2009-03-16T00:38:00.000-07:00

Ever notice how recession affects even the most motivating of industries. Take 'escort services' for a change. For those who read moral science books and yet dream about playboys, and therefore don't know what this is, please take time out, for, in your city, amidst your popular newspaper, hidden within the rows of the classified columns, are neat ads that advocate getting women /men , er both, for all things carnal. In short getting laid is officially said. A year back you did see a discrete ad which would say , "Meet nice lady. completely confedential etc etc" which was fine. A few months back that changed to a little more direct and obvious " Lolita's. ..make contact. high society, fully confedential, day and night service.....but now a week back I was aghast at the audacity of such flesh seekers. The ad simply read "Aaaah.....very good, comfortable prices, safe and secure". A direct bonafide attempt to get customers and well, so blatantly. Gone are the discrete suggestiveness, the polite nudge if you may. Guess such drastic times deserve such drastic steps. Do keep me posted if things happen any worse!!!!!

me in the meltdown

2009-03-16T00:29:00.000-07:00

The financial meltdown, countries declaring recession, a bubble burst on global hype, stock analysts getting it all wrong, financial journos never asking the tough questions and corporations ensuring everyone is a lakhpati now, hoping you were a crorepati earlier, makes me think if we were a part of all this. Today as corporate india downsizes its workforce, demolishes its big growth plans, gets grim on future expectation and admits the party is over, I feel that somewhere within that somewhere, we were as responsible for accumulated greed and compulsive dreaminess as everyone else. We lived the big hype and we hurrahed through it all. Honestly we did see it coming didn't we? Everything was big and looked good. Right from the land prices to basic good prices we shot everything out into the orbit. We hired at the rate of thousands when we needed hundreds, we ate at the classiest of places even though we werent hungry, we readily payed much more for that opulent flat 15 kms away when our present boding did no evil, we drove the swankiest set of new wheels that would take our parents a lifetime to own and we even improved our linked in and asked for undeserving accolades from peers so that it looks good. All for that bigger better deal. Nothing looked impossible to own, no geography impossible to reach. we fuelled the bubble of hope from our homes and shared it with our neighbourhood. No wonder that an entire country caught that on and grew it substantially well. we were snowblind and we never noticed. Finally today when we asphyxiate within our dented aspirations, we blame the ceo, the analyst and the system of a down. We want a cleaner corrupt and a hype free tomorrow. We want to end this all. Guess we forgot we started this in the first place.....

Hope in the heartland

2009-02-16T01:37:00.000-08:00

What is it that makes a train journey worth its while? A strange question you would say since we would mostly jump on to stable answers like a clean toilet, the AC working fine, not to many fellow travelers, no pesky children and a hassle free journey. But that’s all wrong. The journey as always is best when you find yourself meeting new people. It is here where you meet the real India, the great middle class with its bicker and banter..
So here I was in the third tier non ac compartment of the Nizamuddin express and observation told me, there was nothing remotely ‘Nawabi’ with the coupe. The loo stank as if King Kong had just defecated there, the third tier was crammed with people mostly without tickets, and the air was permeated with strong smell of sweat and grime. But my fellow passengers made my day. For here I was, traveling with two ‘hijras’, two machine gun wielding policemen (actually Railway personnel), two ladies from some leading BPO, an old man who just had a bypass and a teenage boy obviously in love. The next 10 hours was remarkable. Friendships were forged, food was exchanged and India’s vociferous concerns were relayed amongst us all. The real India as I realized, could think and it had a voice, loud and full of hope. The policemen did not praise Lalu, instead citing the real problems that railways face, including safety, additional tonnage which was taking a toll on the tracks, the inconvenience of putting extra berths and how they are always considered evil though they are merely lambs to the slaughter. Their fears like ours, were real. But their prayers for improvement were better than mine. The hijras spoke about their lives and explained with fashionable detail to the ladies, places where they could a better bargain. They loved India and did not seem to mind the fact that society considers them queers. They had no problems with the proper gendered. In fact, if truth be told, they exhibited more toleration than my ‘ever angry old man’ neighbour. The man with the bypass lying and writhing on the ground (he didn’t have a confirmed ticket) showed he had a true heart. He groaned and shifted uneasily but not for once did he blame the govt. or curse his fate. He was happy, that he was alive, and happier that his own son had taken him for the operation. I could see a father felling better that he had an upright son, the disgruntled harried fellow passenger was long gone from the memory. I just got off the train learning that this country would live and survive, amidst its super rich and uber poors, with its honor killing and the hijras, with its American English and its groaning masses, with its police and public, only and if only people took a train ride together. Most issues get ironed out. Most problems seem unreal and more people proud of a nation like ours are found. I felt happier than before I had stepped in.
The hijras had the final word when I was getting down. They clapped and exclaimed, “Happy Journey” …. I still wish I had turned and told them, that the happiest part just got over. For it was here, that my motley crew of fellow passengers, all unabashedly unique, had imparted experiences that would stay longer than the memory of the distance actually traversed. They, of the nameless faces, living in unknown lanes and long forgotten bylanes were ‘The People’, the ones on whose needs a country was crafted, a nation was nurtured. I hope we continue to live with the same ideals of love and toleration and above all, respect.

Pink is my Chaddhi- Part 2

2009-02-15T23:50:00.000-08:00

Act 2 Scene 2
A group of women in a party. Some are bold and beautiful, the others bald and not so beautiful. Some are angry at the Mangalore attack. The others are angry they don’t know where Mangalore is!!!!

Hottie 1: This is outrageous. This is the Talibanisation we must protest against.
Hottie 2: I agree Miss Chaddha. The Taliban is now in India and that is wrong. They must stay in Afghanisthan.
Hottie 1: Shut up silly…go do your nails or your boyfriend. Both break soon enough!
Hottie 2: oops sorry…..so anyways..….I mean this attack shows we are weak and oppressed. I feel oppressed anways. Rahul won’t buy me the new Gucci handbag. Plus now I can’t even go and get drunk with all of you. He thinks its unsafe.
Hottie 1: Men…hmmmphhh. Listen lets start sending our pink chaddhis to those goons. This is the best way to show them we have guts and lots of underwear. The latter is actually more important to have.
Hottie 2: Yeah…this is scandalous. Chaddha with a Chaddhi!!!! Wow. It will prove a point. Er …would thongs do?….I need some new ones anyways
Hottie 1: You actually wear underwear let alone thongs!!!!…hmm…good…send it then. Lets also put it up on facebook and get lots of people to send their inner wear. This ‘under ki baat’ must stop….we must have their leaders peeing in his pants.
Hottie 2: He probably in all certainty would. I will also send Rahul’s pink underwear. He’s been acting gay ever since they new stylist Booby Darling hit town. Let’s also open a group? What do we call it ?
Hottie 1: The first good idea you had in decades…we can’t suck up to society every time. I am already sucking my guy and my boss and the cute guy across the street. Enough now. Lets call it ‘The Loose women etc’ …let India know that where there’s a willy there’s a way (sloganeering)
Hottie 2: What a moving line….no sooner do we make this…we will add all our rich friends, and their friends and so on…in no time we will have these independent women, the NRI’s , why even a few transvestites with us supporting this cause….(singing) we shall over cum …someday!!!!...The rich will rise.
Hottie 1: Bang on bitch….this is so good. I have to call my PR guy and that media slut who spoke about my affair…this is one time I need her. We will meet on valentines in some pub and drink ourselves silly…and protest.
Hottie 2: Hoorah to Pink Power. Opps I think I dropped my underwear!

Pink is my Chaddhi : Part 1

2009-02-15T22:57:00.000-08:00

Act 1 Scene 1
The political goons of the ‘damn sena’ have arrived at the pub. They are chanting and raising slogans against western culture. Some are seen visibly angry and yet some are simple horny buggers who are scratching their willies publicly and saying stuff like ‘This is against our culture’.
Goon 1: Hey you smell terrible…%^*& what is that?
Goon 2: Country liquor you behen %^$# …..i hate that stuff myself….
Goon 1: You are in luck kutte….lets raid this pub…and drink ourselves to some good 'V desi' stuff
Goon 2: Yeah…(shouting loud) ‘down with western culture’….(to goon 1)…brother can we also fondle women….i like a little titillation to go with the booze
Goon 1: Are you a hindu?
Goon 2: er…huh…the mohallah calls me a fuckin bastard …but then it was a hindu basti…so?
Goon 1: yeah …you qualify….quick fondle and grab some t^&* …no time to loose
Goon 2: Loose…you bet…these women are loose….they drink here and wait to get fondled by us…..aaargh….i will go for the ones with noddle straps….they turn me on?
Goon 1: the noodles turn you on? …hmm…that explains it…the Chinese are after this….go grab and gherao so that it looks nice….also remember…don’t smile at the camera….keep a sober face…you must have a slogan though
Goon 2: slogan….okie here it is… “the best way to score a chick is to molest ‘em” ….yeah…that’s my line!...what an idea sirji …we could make a movie outta this line
Goon 1: (scratching himself furiously)…yes …very nice … just call it ‘free willy’…

Neither Rubbish Nor Garbage

2009-01-30T01:29:00.000-08:00

I watched Slumdog last week . Just like all of you, I had heard about the movie before and the 'oh so many zillion' viewpoints and criticism right from Big B to Big C's (Aka Arindam 'yawn' IIPM 'yawn' better than the IIM's ads guy), I was also hoping I would not feel depressed like I did when I watched ‘Salaam Bombay’. But Danny Boyle's flick took me by surprise in its depiction, in its struggles, tragedy and triumph, and the ending which in true bollywood style was a happy one, complete with a 'matka jhatka' for the ending credits! I also found it trite that we should think that he is potraying the dark underbelly of India, exposing the warts of our country to the western cosmetic conscious community. It's just a movie. An attempt to a story that traverses through dark and finally light. Just like our souls. The pace of the plot is permissive, the depictions realistic and some moments truly Indian! Also the use of children and through their eyes, exposing fates and the fortitudes of a nation is commendable. And true. For in slums their lives are not about choosing pesi versus coke, or nike against puma. It's about surviving or sinking. It's a quest to live. The cinematography notches high and so does rahman's music. At the end of the day you would find it hard not to believe in it because it's all around us. Made in the style of the movie' Children of God' but better, Danny shows more hindusthan that we as hindusthanis would like to believe.

Watch it....I rate it an 'A' simply for its awesomeness!

Timepass

2009-01-30T01:20:00.000-08:00

Why does Aamir Khan hate a Hindi version of Danny Boyle’s flick?
Cos it may be called -Basti Ka Kutta (a)amir (Slumdog Millionaire)

What did one admin guy say to the other?
'admi(n) hu admi(n) se pyar karta hun...

Fosters Vs Local Daru : all worked up!!!

2009-01-17T01:37:00.000-08:00

Yet another tempting offer from Ozzie land. Well it seems they have the world’s best job on offer, complete with a private island to Crusoe around in, as a caretaker, and to spread (stop thinking dirty!!!) the word virtually, all the while sipping pinacoladas and skimping around in ‘next to nothing’ briefs!!!!!! Indeed it is a highly tempting one but then when you compare it with some of the standard government jobs in India, you will realize it’s not as good as it seems.
For one, imagine an Indian government employee’s job. Reckon 365 days where he tries to work but hopelessly fails. If you probe he will incessantly rattle of 650 reasons why work got delayed. His hair oily and slick, his mouth twitched like evil, and his eyes furtive and darting for a corner to spit pan, he will lament and bemoan. He will blame the rain, the seasons, the food, the office atmosphere, his colleagues, his family and this entire country for the inordinate delays. He will soon thereafter extend his hands, greasy from years of corrupt ineptitude and bona fide inefficiency to ask for some money
As they say in this country, to get a job done out of a government employee, you will have to seek divine blessings, meet the local astrologer and the tarot parrot and then pine for promise, which may still evade you for gods may be gods, and public servants hardly listen to anyone anyways, divinity be damned. So that’s how work or rather no work gets done. Add to this, vacations, hiring equal dimwits, bosses who don’t performance manage, waive offs for half the necessities and illegal holidays that may run for over 3-4 months!!! This thus establishes a entirely malignant babu culture , and it has not changed in 40 years and am positive, it never will.
Now only had we advertised this I am sure half of Oz land would have been here trying to fight ‘fist and knuckles’ for the perfect Indian job. As they say, an island may be fun, but an entire nation is pure frolic! India with its bunch of goofy and greedy babu jobs is the place to be.

Laughter the best medicine

2009-01-15T22:08:00.001-08:00

I apologise to the powers that be , for seeing humour where the country and my colleagues see despair. I am like that only. I believe its important to laugh especially when there is nothing funny. That is a principle the earlier you learn, the better.
What’s common between Raju and a married lady?
They both have been faking it ….for years!
What’s common between Satyam and the Indian tiger?
Both shares (shers) don’t exist!
Why can’t Raju pray to god for help?
He already has a deal going with the devil!
What’s Raju’s favorite song number?
Jailhouse Rock!
What did Raju tell his shareholders at the AGM?
I love you so much, IT (it) hurts!!! (refer to the Airtel ad dimwits!!!)
If you are cool please do contribute...if you are a critic...go burn in hell!

Flury's : A cake walk into the belly of bengal!

2009-01-12T22:26:00.000-08:00

The story of any Calcuttan, begins from the middle, since it’s a tale of the gastronomic kind, with a destination that’s delves into the culinary and undertakes a journey that’s sugary, saucy, spiced and garnished. Food therefore, other than the communist party, is what prevails and persists with permanence in our lives. In fact while the rest of the average Joe’s and the above average Joanna’s in this country, may aspire for a size zero, six or eight pack, we find solace in our family packs, in our little 'khabarer' 'thongas' and in the ever indestructible 'kobji dubiye khelam' attitude!
So when I read another fascinating piece about Flury's (from Toto), I could draw so many parallels, it almost seemed our live are intertwined with snapshots of the past and in the rejoicement of its present. Just like the famed eatery. My parents hate the place now with its 'screaming pink' next gen look especially since it would form an integral part in their 'lets go to eat out' Sunday breakfasts, taking firang'ed' cousins, aunts, colleagues, relatives and foes! to impress, and to ensure we as children, get to understand how chocolate cones can create insta joy! Flurys was like our induction course, our little something to invoke the good gods of eating, our rites of initiation into a lifetime of gormandizing. In knowing life may give you what you want as long as you enjoy it by the mouthfuls! Flurys wasn’t something you just went to. It was where you took your next generation!
And I have had my fair share of good times there. It was at flurys that I learnt how to wear a tie, how to tie a shoelace. It was also at flurys when I was reminded of a time, when I could have died for someone's love and it was there that I also realised how someone's love had died for me! It is here where I wrote my love letters, it was here where I fudged my attendance report. And it all comes rushing back when I step in, just as I did, a few weeks back. I remember meeting guests like shabhana azmi, shubha mudgal, javed akhtar, louis banks and anjali ela menon! It was the hub of the cognoscenti, the hoi polloi. If you mattered, you were there. I am not sure if that still happens.
There's a famous joke about flurys which I would like to share. The time it was opening, and the bricks were being laid, this bengali bystander asked the couple what's this ? The couple, who by then were well indoctrinated and well versed with our language, thinking he was referring to the bricks, said in bengali 'eta eat'…the bengali guy just walked in and started ordering…..it hasn’t stopped ever since!!!

The whole truth or the truth with a hole !

2009-01-07T03:07:00.000-08:00

It’s an irony that the name ‘Satyam which in the world’s oldest language Sanskrit, means the truth, was running itself the furthest distance away from what was eventually true. Its sad how a company, and a fine one at that, with some of the best minds working for it, could have gone down an abyss so fast and so furiously. And I shudder to think of what shall happen to my colleagues; to the people I have bonded with, and to those with whom I have forged some very serious relations. I have been a Satyamite for so many years that I consider myself an integral part of all that it stood for. For the values it disseminated. For the leadership it remonstrated and above all for the work culture which I believed set us apart from the others. And why not? It is not easy to win a best employer award, to be acknowledged in leadership forums or be a part of a growing India, unless we did something right. So now when I write this and think of how things have disintegrated, how our share prices have fallen faster than Pamela's clothes and how the nation…nay….the world looks at us with anger and contempt and serious doubt, its simply disheartening. I am not sure what the future foretells, but I do leave all those who understand economics, with some very hard questions.
>What will happen to over 52000 employees who are a part of the Satyam family?
>What will happen if 10% of all the employees had taken home loans at an average of Rs. 20 lakhs which means a mind blowing Rs. 1000 crore of repayments to be made to banks!!!
>What will happen to over 15000 employees who are in Hyderabad and contribute at least 15% to AP’s GDP?
> What will happen to our market capitalization and our brand equity?

I leave you all with a prayer. In times like these it helps. It’s something I said to myself today, thankful, I had left Satyam in September for greener pastures. Makes me look like a visionary now.

Three ways 'to thousand and nine' ...

2009-01-05T21:21:00.000-08:00

Okay so you are damn resolute and think you are superhuman. With those knickers sticking out, I am convinced!!! Immature moron that you are, you also think you are can free kick those bad habits away. Good for you then. But honestly knowing you the way I do, you just think you are a smart ass, still live by plotting and polluting, and don’t know shit but make it sound alright …. So here’s some tips to ensure you grow some spine and stick to your resolve, you wimp.

Stop smoking: Hmm….so you think you can give up smoking you miserable looser. Well the sure fire way of getting this right is to do exactly what I say. Go buy a nicotine patch and strap it where it hurts most. The stupid sticker fills you with as much nicotine as you need…and then against the surgeon generals warning (who listens to doc anyways!) go smoke an actual cigarette…this concoction of extra dose is considered fatal. The extra nicotine will puff you away one final time, once and for all, you fag (of a smoking kind)! If you are dead then you surely are not smoking.

Be Healthy: For your fat asses that are probably extra puffed from all that new year morality, its time to stop being ‘fed’ up! It’s that time of the season when ‘you of the family pack kind’ think of gym and of fitness instructors with 8 packs and 6 packs. You often get seduced by digitally re-mastered images of men with muscles and meat. And start watching wrestling! So well, ahem, you are gay. Men who think of running and working out and seeing themselves in the mirror, is screaming gay. They rather wear butt showing leather pants and walk the neighborhood if they wanted to keep it so subtle. Don’t be a faggot. Eat as much as you like and eat all wrong. Would you say, mind dying, if you were finishing of some delightful mousse? I am sure most will say ‘never’. Well moving on….

Create Change and Be Positive and Blah Blahs: You have been a failure mostly. You cheat perception by making grandeur of your petty self and by buying stuff that are more costlier and surely more important than you ever will be. You read self help books, thrice, to get the message and your best friend is an unfair slime ball who got away with everything. You and change. Give up hoping. You will never do anything more than creating a falling domino effect of chasing wealth, making babies and teaching them to chase wealth and therefore collectively contributing to more greed and corruption and spawning an entire generation of salivating penny chasers! If you want to change dig a hole, lie down and wait for someone to do the favour….

Caveat: These three are the most common shit I keep hearing from everybody so I have ensured you follow these well. Chances are you will die trying half of these and yet not triumph an entire lifetime. But don’t worry. Neither will anyone from your social circle! I am tired of these common ones myself and am so disgusted that I have resolved to do two of them, as my own, well…yearly resolutions!!!

Meri Marzi - Bollywood Calling

2008-12-22T21:35:00.000-08:00

What would the new SRK movie be called had Vicks sponsored it?
'Rub' ne bana di jodi !!!
What would Mithunda's movie be called had Tata Sky sponsored it?
'Disko' laga dala toh life hai jinga lala....
Who would have made a good role model for Raymonds ads?
Man mohan singh! - The Complete Man....
What slogan did Anil Ambani coin when he saw Anna Nicole Smith?
Ho(e) to big Ho(e)...
What would Ms. Sherawat be called had he gone to Mysore?
Mysore Mallika ......(remember the infamous movie)
Name a famous punju- telegu porn movie which also made its hindi debut?
Gowd...tussi great hoe!!!
Whats the coolest hindi movie ever made?
Dude (doodh) ka karz

School was cool

2008-12-21T23:15:00.000-08:00

Reverberations of ‘good morning’ teacher, crowded prayer halls, PT classes, bullies plentiful, teachers eavesdropping, parent teacher meetings, sneaking lunches, forging friends…. school was all that and a lot more. It was not only the best of times, it was ‘us’ in our most humane state, in our most vulnerable best, invested in us a promise, imbibed in us a value, that add to an answer of who we are today. Recently some of my school friends posted a picture in facebook. It was all of us in our shorts and smiling faces, looking our very best, looking out to a life full of possibilities and chances. I spot me looking silly, I notice a few who are beyond my degree of separation, some who have unfortunately passed away, and many who have grown bigger and responsibly, better. The scraps keep coming, as one by one friend appear, and introduce themselves to us once again, commenting on names, sections, years and teachers, our time then and now. Some from abroad, many from here. We trade stories of who’s where and who’s who. We exchange greetings, send smileys, rib old timers. And then a few days later we will all move on. That in essence is how life stacks up distance. But sometimes, in days like these, time stands still. The clock shows 9 am. The year shows 1984 and we are in school all over again. I realize its pictures like these that make teleportation possible. And it’s a wonderful journey to take, often and always. Try it sometime.

Clause and effects

2008-12-21T21:23:00.000-08:00

The new recession buzz is that Santa has decided to opt for restructuring and shall hire donkeys instead of reindeers. There are irrefutable claims and indepth analysis made by a few consultants (the ones died and went to heavent that is !!!) that reindeers weren't right for the job anyways. Some get red noses like rudolf did, and most are horny as their antlers will indicate! Also thanks to downsizing, there will be lesser no of carriage bearers. Also thanks to attrition hiting over 20% there are lesser elves than ever before. They demand better working conditions (tired of the butt freezing cold) and want more cheer leaders, not just some silly cheer. Also with more and more families reducing electricity thanks to rising costs, the chimneys will be put to good use, That makes it difficult for Santa to find a way in. Plus they dont make chimenys like they did earlier. Thanks to modular kitchens, the chimneys are slimmer and Santa hasnt exactly signed on for a weight loss programme. Also the demands for children keep getting wierder. Like little John from UK who wants a restraining order from his family, or little Martha who wants her parents to stop getting drunk. Also under the terrorist act, Santa trying to enter a house may be held under multiple laws as a tresspasser and as an intruder and if he escapes, a fugitive! Santa cup of woes runneth over. Every year he spreads a little cheer and wants 'ho ho ho' but this year there are lesser hoes all around so well, looks like things will get a bit lonely out there. Plus with the changes in the climes thanks to our polluting power, a lot more colder!!! But anyways you dont worry...go get your ex moss'ed !!!!!

We all need some good coverage: Hyd times talks about our theatre

2008-12-21T20:53:00.000-08:00

Caption: Moustache makes me look like King Uncle

God is one of us!

2008-12-08T23:25:00.000-08:00

"If someone had to ever beat the communist from calcutta I think it would have to be god", so said my brethern from bengal and a die hard optimist. And just then I hear that god has landed. He was obviously recognised and his entire entourage taken with pomp and splendour to the hotel. At koldom in midnight, half the populace came to the streets to catch a glimpse, the other half , not to be outdone grabbed their TV's and watched. They saw god wave back and they were delirious, they saw god smile and some swooned like tapan pal of dum dum did. This religious rhapsody continued till god came to the packed stadium, his holy highness, amazed at the millions of 'mach eating' 'smoke spiffing' 'glee grabbing' junta who revere him. He interacted , shook hands, and even shook a leg. Everyone in rapt attention, mesmerized at this moment, spellbounded by the magic and flabbergasted by the significance, saw as the football flew high and higher and finally landed. God turned back and smiled. He was in shape and god was great. God was basically, the football supremo, loved the world over as the 'el diego' aka Maradona. he is the undisputable god to most bengalis , and that includes me. And it must have been something for those who were there back home. So is he open to joining bengal politics? We do need better leaders and mass maestros. He would have won alright. He is after all, God.

Watch 'The Good Doctor'

2008-12-08T01:10:00.000-08:00

The Good Doctor is set in Russia during the 19th Century and written in Chekhovian style comedy. It is composed of a series of scenes in which the only connecting thread is the character of the Writer. A working class man feeling the pressure of being an underdog; a Casanova taking a class on the art of seduction, a liberal father wanting his son to have a stint with a prostitute, a banker being harassed by an unknown lady, a tramp willing to entertain for a few rubles and two aged strangers meeting in a park. These set of short stories will take you on a journey full of mirth, danger, suspense and introspection. Watch our play ‘The Good Doctor’ on the 14th of December at the NIFT auditorium (Two shows) (3.30 / 7.30) Directed by RK Shenoy

we who wait whine n wish

2008-12-02T12:15:00.000-08:00

There it is. Bought to you 24/7 by over websites, blogs, news channels, magazines and countless newspapers. If that was not enough count and add the number of sms, mails, forums and candle stands to this! The stories that spin revolve around the insensitive politicians, or the failure of the security system, or the pakisthan angle or human stories of life and death. What does not seem to be told is how to hope when there is none. What is not explained is our continual denial of our own ineffectiveness, the senility of the administrators who 'seem' to manage the show and the alarcity with which most of us have gone back to saturday night pubbing. Do we find a basic moral fibre missing. Maybe we did lay this nice indian carpet and call it an intricate weave of many states and its social segregation but somewhere we have this huge patch and we seem to ignore it. Time and Again. Its not in the fact that a huge part of India goes back to its usual routine, relying largely on prayers and party sharty but also in the fact that security itself is so shortlived. I mean in Hyderabad itself I have seen it happen. A security threat, a bomb explosion somewhere and for three weeks every human or otherwise is subjected to board exam like vigilance and checks. Come the fourth week its back to what it was. And this isn't about Hyderabad. Its 'pan' India and yes, its worth spitting at! Its a failure that we as a nation, do not have a plan to save ourselves from external risk. Its also a shame, that I as a citizen, admit freely of the gross ineptitude with which we have let this decay happen. So if things remain to be like this, an expat I connected with said, " I rather not come down to India even if asked, I rather quit my job and search through this recession. That's still easier." I don't blame him. Its a risk and they who come from nations who have stringent security measures, probably know a bit more than 'we-who-wait-whine-n -wish'!

BOMBay

2008-11-27T20:04:00.000-08:00

The city of dreams is now also the city of nightmares in the light of the terror attacks and the unforgivable massacre that has bought this country down to its knees. For the last two days, our hopes have been held at ransom as we are faced with one bad news after another. And there seems to be no victory at sight. Its a harrowing time. You keep calling friends, relatives and countless acquaintances and colleagues, praying and wishing they are well. Some share stories of escape, some stories of loved ones dead and yet many others on their personal experience with terror and mayhem. And it has stuck in places where you and I would have frequented, places where we would have laughed and ate heartily, or lounged lazily. All in the heart of the metropolis, smack in the middle of the city. Are we now to acknowledge that terror has come home to stay? Are we comfortable knowing it is probably lurking in a popular spot near us? Are we ready to play the role of mute spectators knowing that given our lax security we could be the next target and its probably easy to get such gore going? I think the scariest part is in knowing that someone in India is watching all this in TV while planning for the next one. Thats terror without a face. The fact that right here in our country are our own countrymen who are helping the terror outfits in some form or the other is what should run a chill down your spine. That's like knowing the next one is just round the corner and just like the innocent hundreds who have died and bled, we too could have been them, easy targets for the purveyors of such henious crime. Is there a way to stop? Most mumbaikars and am sure the rest of this nation by now understand there are no easy answers. We can only pray but alas its tough to do even that amidst the deafening sounds of sharpenls and the cries of those who bleed for nothing. So the only option is to wait silently and see this go away and thereafter to wait pensivley for the next one to strike......

Samosa Aphrodisiac!!!

2008-11-19T02:34:00.000-08:00

Laloo would have been pleased. So would Ramu halwai who sells samosas around the street corner. It seems like, while the world, may be crippled by recession and it's after thoughts, this "Only from India" food item beats the stock pundits when it comes to their demand or cost. These days 'special' samosas are the new age aphrodisiacs and are made with rare herbs. Sounds unbelievable? Wait...there's more. It also costs $ 300. Feeling suicidal? Read on and go figure:
Ripped-off couple pays $300 for four 'special' samosas
November 19, 2008
A Dutch couple on a visit to the eastern Indian state of Bihar paid 10,000 rupees (A$312) for four samosas, a spicy deep-fried snack that usually doesn't cost more than a few rupees, a newspaper reported on Monday.After the tourists ate the snacks, a stall owner at the Sonepur cattle fair last week told them his "special" samosas cost more because they were made of herbs and had aphrodisiac qualities, the Hindustan Times said.After an argument, the couple paid the shopkeeper. But they later complained to a policeman.Police forced the shopkeeper to return the change - 9,990 rupees. Reuters.