'You were supposed to understand. Didn't I tell you how much I needed someone to understand me? No one ever understood. My family had their own problems, I was supposed to understand them and behave accordingly. At work they would not give me what I deserve and I was supposed to understand because I needed the money. You were the only one who got me. Didn't I tell you how much I cared for you because you understood?'
'I tried, I really tried you know. I tried being nice to you. I know you had your own problems, wasn't I sweet and romantic when necessary? But you weren't satisfied. You wanted more of my time and attention. WTF? How was I supposed to give you more, when you knew that I had so many problems. You should have understood dammit. Now look what you have done to yourself?'
Right in front of him, she lay motionless. The baseball bat was just nearby and the blood was still oozing out of her head.
'I didnt want to do this. Its you, you made me do this. Why didn't you just understand? If you had just stayed quiet, not questioned me, we would have been happy. But you really had to do this didn't you? You were also like the rest of them, just not ready to understand me, accept me. Why, why didn't you understand?'
(P.S. my little attempt at explaining the reverse thinking of psychos and a major trait of theirs called psychological projection)
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Monday, June 7, 2010
Crazy love explained in Mahesh Bhatt movies - 2
Part 1 of this post can be found here
Another thing Voh Lamhe explores is the period when Bhatt and Babi had been ardent Osho followers. Though this part has only been touched upon. But Bhatt’s interviews to publications over the years, confirmed a belief that I had held for long. Following a cult is another form of escapism. When you don’t know who you are or what you want, that is the perfect time when a Narcissistic Godman can enter your life. I for one believe that God is not so insecure that he has to declare to the world he is almighty, whereas most Godmen do declare that time and again don’t they? In all religious texts if you read closely, it is said that your God and peace reside in you, but in our dysfunctional relationships with ourselves and the world, we tend to seek God in others and become fresh meat for cult Gods.
A similar escapist way of dealing with the chaos in life is shown very briefly in one of Bhatt’s most brilliant movies – Zakhm. Pooja Bhatt’s character is shown to shut the door to her room and excommunicate herself from her sons whenever she is in great mental distress. It is later revealed in the movie that at such times she would fervently say her prayers to get over her distress. Another passive and escapist way of dealing with the issue of the illegitimate relationship. The less spiritually inclined might go for the numbing addiction provides. No wonder Marx equated religion with addictions.
Movies tend to make us believe that love just happens, that no one can control it. Actually it’s the animal instinct of attraction that is uncontrollable. Love is a set of choices you make everyday. Love they say is an action, and no amount of praying/drinking is going to change anything unless you make the decision to act. And being in an illicit relationship is a choice, one that I have seen some people walk away from, once they realise how crazy it is to be in those shoes. Granted you don’t always know what are the consequences of your actions, but once you know, you can always make the effort to change, rather than chanting “I cant”. Cannot I believe is an unnecessary word in English, there is no cannot, there is only wont, because each of us makes our own choices.
Arth, the first in the Bhatt-Babi trilogy was a story more suited to the moralistic landscape of the time. The characters were black and white, good Shabana and Raj, weak/bad Kulbhushan and Smita Patil. Even Aashiqui which was semi biographical, had the evil hostel warden and good orphan. It was in the later movies that Bhatt experimented with the world and its craziness as it was, without offering justifications for why his characters did whatever they did. They were weak/twisted/evil and though he did give the psychological background of the troubled childhood, he stopped justifying why they were who they were. And Zakhm is perhaps the best example of this. Ajay Devgan’s character doesn’t judge his parents or blame them for his problems, its an acceptance that only age and maturity can give you.
Jism and Murder on the other hand explore the fragility of purely hormonal love as opposed to love based on genuine understanding. Bhatt’s characters in these movies show the darker side of the passion in illicit relationships – the basic uncertainty of them. Mujhko dil se yahi shikayat hai, jo usko mil nahin sakta kyun uski chahat hai goes the song in Jism. Nothing is more draining for the human soul than getting attached to something that rests on a shaky ground. Again separation and starting life afresh requires a lot of courage too, something depicted very well in Arth, but many extra marital affairs are escapism, and if that is what it is, both the parties tend to stay stuck with their partners while playing victims constantly crying if only things were different. Of course since it’s a movie, there is murder, mayhem and lots of drama. Paap on the other hand depicts the flip side of morality and impulse control. A day to day example of this could be how children from extremely conservative families tend to turn out to be the most experimental when it comes to relationships and addictions, the moment they start living in a different city because of work or studies. This movie also explores parental influence in our life choices and also expresses that needless denial of impulses to gain salvation in an after/future life is just pointless.
According to my own understanding most of us make only two mistakes that create all the madness in life. One is refusing to take responsibility for our own actions and the other is denial of reality. Bhatt’s semi autobiographical movies frequently have such characters and Bhatt also reiterates the fundamental truth that no one is good or bad, it’s the choices people make that make them good or bad. Though a lot of the reality gets watered down because of the over dramatisation, characteristic of Bollywood movies, Bhatt still manages to get in some honesty and anyone who has gone through the pangs of growing up to a reasonable level of maturity can see the patterns of thinking that guide his confused/weak/crazy characters.
Many of his central characters have a victim mentality and keep rolling in the muck of self created disasters, something Bhatt depicts taking a leaf out of his own mistakes. On the screen its all a rosy picture, but for Bhatt and the people he touched, living it might not have been easy. And though he probably took a long time to himself own up to the responsibility of his life, in the process, he learnt how to serve up the psychological struggles within his mind with a generous sprinkling of song and dance.
Any successful author would tell you that the best stories ever told are the ones that you lived and Bhatt used this formula film after film. It takes great courage to put up your life under scrutiny for the whole world to see. It may not be the whole truth, but the movies do talk of a life of making mistakes and learning, of being human and fallible.
Crazy love explained in Mahesh Bhatt movies - 1
Since I can remember, my favourite song of all time has been Tere dar par sanam from Phir Teri Kahaani Yaad Aayi. This was Mahesh Bhatt’s second cinematic exploration of his relationship with Parveen Babi. While the first movie Arth focussed on the dynamic of the other woman, Phir Teri was about Parveen’s mental illness and the push-pull of their relationship. As a teenager, Tere dar par seemed to me like the ultimate declaration of love. Its only recently have I realised what a self defeating song it actually is. Many songs of the 90’s had a pining away quality to them, but Tere dar par was probably one of the best/worst examples. Tu na aaya toh ham chale aaye it goes, perpetuating the myth that one doesn’t have any self respect when one is in love. The trouble was that for a lot of people like me who grew up then, this song did not mean a lack of self respect, but a sacrifice of pride, because after all there is no place for pride in love is there?
But if you look at the song in the actual context, you realise it is apt, Pooja Bhatt who plays Parveen’s character, in the movie, is mentally ill and for her Rahul Roy is her only confidante, she is shown as needing him. And Rahul Roy’s character keeps running around in circles with the relationship, knowing fully well that he cant ‘save’ her and yet trying to save her. It’s the classic dysfunctional relationship dynamic. The person who ‘saves’ the lost soul feels good about himself being noble and the person who needs ‘saving’ controls by being helpless and angry alternately. The psychological dynamic is called Karpman’s drama triangle and a lesser known phenomena called codependence.
As I was listening to this song last evening, I was suddenly struck by the number of Bhatt movies that have supposedly star struck lovers. Another movie the songs of which I liked a lot at that time was Gunaah. It had Bipasha Basu as a cop with a troubled past falling in love with, you guessed it, a criminal with a troubled past. Both have a lot of unresolved issues that they hope their love can resolve, an idea which is at best a delusion because like they say even God helps only those who help themselves. The song goes Hamne tumko dil ye de diya ye bhi na socha kaun ho tum. Typical hormonal reaction, jumping into a relationship – the hallmark of the beginning of any dysfunctional romantic relationship. And true enough, Bipasha who is sent to arrest him, is mesmerised by him because of a sudden hormonal reaction. Dino hardly speaks a word in the movie and yet you are led to believe that both of them have fallen in true, undying love.
In fact a lot of our ideas of love as teenagers are fed by these Mills Boonesque ideas (plead guilty of reading many of them) of how love is all you need to ‘save’ the other person. But what happens when the person you are trying to save, doesn’t want to be saved. A lot of people are more comfortable in identifying with the victim mentality, because when you are a victim, nothing you do is your fault, you are not responsible, its circumstances/destiny/God that made you like this. (Remember Bruce Almighty?) Its an easy way out, you don’t have to responsible or go through the actual pain of growing up and taking responsibility. But in real life, if your hurts decide your life, you push away the very people who are closest to you, a self fulfilling prophecy, where you end up exactly at the place you wanted to avoid.
Perhaps a more honest take on Bhatt’s relationship with Babi, was Voh Lamhe, though it still was highly romanticised. It has Bhatt almost admitting to the fact that he in some ways did ‘use’ Babi’s emotional turbulence to further his career (the financial aspect of this was dealt with in Arth) and in turn got entangled in a tangled, haunting relationship. Kangana is trying to run away from the cloud of darkness that her illness is casting on her thinking and anyone who offers her a little attention is instantly her soulmate, so Shiney Ahuja’s character just has to appear to be nice. Shiney on the other hand is trying to run away from his failure and Kangana provides him the reflected glory. Most emotionally disturbed relationships are an escapism, one or more of the person’s is actually running away from other realities in life and trying to find ‘solace’ in the ‘sanctuary’ of a relationship. Perfect recipe for disaster. The songs in this movie however did not have the intensity of relationship dynamics that Phir Teri had.
Continued in part 2 here
But if you look at the song in the actual context, you realise it is apt, Pooja Bhatt who plays Parveen’s character, in the movie, is mentally ill and for her Rahul Roy is her only confidante, she is shown as needing him. And Rahul Roy’s character keeps running around in circles with the relationship, knowing fully well that he cant ‘save’ her and yet trying to save her. It’s the classic dysfunctional relationship dynamic. The person who ‘saves’ the lost soul feels good about himself being noble and the person who needs ‘saving’ controls by being helpless and angry alternately. The psychological dynamic is called Karpman’s drama triangle and a lesser known phenomena called codependence.
As I was listening to this song last evening, I was suddenly struck by the number of Bhatt movies that have supposedly star struck lovers. Another movie the songs of which I liked a lot at that time was Gunaah. It had Bipasha Basu as a cop with a troubled past falling in love with, you guessed it, a criminal with a troubled past. Both have a lot of unresolved issues that they hope their love can resolve, an idea which is at best a delusion because like they say even God helps only those who help themselves. The song goes Hamne tumko dil ye de diya ye bhi na socha kaun ho tum. Typical hormonal reaction, jumping into a relationship – the hallmark of the beginning of any dysfunctional romantic relationship. And true enough, Bipasha who is sent to arrest him, is mesmerised by him because of a sudden hormonal reaction. Dino hardly speaks a word in the movie and yet you are led to believe that both of them have fallen in true, undying love.
In fact a lot of our ideas of love as teenagers are fed by these Mills Boonesque ideas (plead guilty of reading many of them) of how love is all you need to ‘save’ the other person. But what happens when the person you are trying to save, doesn’t want to be saved. A lot of people are more comfortable in identifying with the victim mentality, because when you are a victim, nothing you do is your fault, you are not responsible, its circumstances/destiny/God that made you like this. (Remember Bruce Almighty?) Its an easy way out, you don’t have to responsible or go through the actual pain of growing up and taking responsibility. But in real life, if your hurts decide your life, you push away the very people who are closest to you, a self fulfilling prophecy, where you end up exactly at the place you wanted to avoid.
Perhaps a more honest take on Bhatt’s relationship with Babi, was Voh Lamhe, though it still was highly romanticised. It has Bhatt almost admitting to the fact that he in some ways did ‘use’ Babi’s emotional turbulence to further his career (the financial aspect of this was dealt with in Arth) and in turn got entangled in a tangled, haunting relationship. Kangana is trying to run away from the cloud of darkness that her illness is casting on her thinking and anyone who offers her a little attention is instantly her soulmate, so Shiney Ahuja’s character just has to appear to be nice. Shiney on the other hand is trying to run away from his failure and Kangana provides him the reflected glory. Most emotionally disturbed relationships are an escapism, one or more of the person’s is actually running away from other realities in life and trying to find ‘solace’ in the ‘sanctuary’ of a relationship. Perfect recipe for disaster. The songs in this movie however did not have the intensity of relationship dynamics that Phir Teri had.
Continued in part 2 here
Friday, May 21, 2010
They say he's gone!
It’s the kind of phone call you don’t want to receive in the morning. ‘Listen there’s a bad news. A is gone, killed in a road accident.’ And for the next 20 minutes I thought it was just the kind of prank A would play, of course you are joking. And the caller says no Kajal, he really is dead. Dead and gone. His bike tire burst because of the heat and he lost control.
Sometimes you just meet people randomly and you become such good friends with them. A was one such friend. I had met him while on assignment 3 years ago, while I was getting vox pops for a cricket show. He was one of those college boys hanging around Shivaji Park with his circle of friends and they all even did a celebratory dance for the camera when India won. Of all the guys, A was the only one who requested for my phone number and a journalist never lets go of an opportunity to make a new source. So I had given him my number. In the next one year, A would call me randomly just to say hi and then the phone calls stopped. I didn’t bother much because the phone calls were completely random.
Then about a year ago, I got a call from a new number. It was A. He had graduated and had started working. He was talking almost normally but there was an undercurrent. I asked him and he almost broke down as he narrated the story of how he had just recently broken up with his girlfriend of 4 years and how his obsession to just speak to her once had almost sent him to prison for harassment. This surely was not like the carefree college boy I knew. Here was the maturity and perspective that only pain gives you. It was all done and over, but A just couldn’t fathom how something that started out so beautifully could have ended so horribly. Over the next few months he would call sometimes just to chat and we became fast friends. Along with some other friends of his, I would take turns to scold him, tease him and coax him out of his ‘undying’ love. And he would take it all in stride, keep smiling and in a mock imitation of a Bollywood hero would say ‘this is A’s love story, its gotta be different.’
Never once had I thought that this seemingly immature boy, whom we used to all advice about his heartaches, would ultimately be one of those few people who would help me out when I went through a bad phase recently. I could call him at any time of the day or night and he would patiently listen, divert my attention, give me surprise visits just to cheer me up. And he never expected anything but friendship from me. I didn’t feel that I was burdening him with my emotions, I didn’t have to be careful, I could be the emotional girl I am with him. I didn’t have to carry a rep with him or wonder that he would demand a price for his show of affection. All that he expected was a smiling friend in return for his troubles.
Then around 3 months ago, he moved back to Delhi, his hometown. Most of us friends were sad but we felt that after all that he had gone through the last year, going back home would do him good. And true to his style, just last month he came down on a surprise visit to Mumbai just a week prior to my birthday. All of us went out to Gorai to celebrate the engagement of another friend and we were again ribbing him about how he should now get married. His parents were pressurising him and he was dodging it off because he was still in love with his girl and we had again started scolding him.
And now I am left with so much unsaid, so much anger that he is dead. Since morning, I have only been repeating to myself, he is dead, he is dead, as if my repetition would somehow change the reality. I still half expect him to call and say it was all a prank. Listening to ‘kaise batayein kyun tumko chahein’ would be a painful reminder as that was his ringtone. There are so many little things about this friendship, this boy I have only met half a dozen times, things that might live on for quite some time even though he didn’t. Heck he wasn’t even 25. Why this boy who may have only hurt people in ignorance, why not those who make a living out of hurting people? Anger, confusion and just pain at a life that was lost. But A you had a full life, you had friends, you loved like never before and you touched the lives of many. Yes, the few years you lived, you probably lived more than many a lifetime. RIP. Miss you ever.
Sometimes you just meet people randomly and you become such good friends with them. A was one such friend. I had met him while on assignment 3 years ago, while I was getting vox pops for a cricket show. He was one of those college boys hanging around Shivaji Park with his circle of friends and they all even did a celebratory dance for the camera when India won. Of all the guys, A was the only one who requested for my phone number and a journalist never lets go of an opportunity to make a new source. So I had given him my number. In the next one year, A would call me randomly just to say hi and then the phone calls stopped. I didn’t bother much because the phone calls were completely random.
Then about a year ago, I got a call from a new number. It was A. He had graduated and had started working. He was talking almost normally but there was an undercurrent. I asked him and he almost broke down as he narrated the story of how he had just recently broken up with his girlfriend of 4 years and how his obsession to just speak to her once had almost sent him to prison for harassment. This surely was not like the carefree college boy I knew. Here was the maturity and perspective that only pain gives you. It was all done and over, but A just couldn’t fathom how something that started out so beautifully could have ended so horribly. Over the next few months he would call sometimes just to chat and we became fast friends. Along with some other friends of his, I would take turns to scold him, tease him and coax him out of his ‘undying’ love. And he would take it all in stride, keep smiling and in a mock imitation of a Bollywood hero would say ‘this is A’s love story, its gotta be different.’
Never once had I thought that this seemingly immature boy, whom we used to all advice about his heartaches, would ultimately be one of those few people who would help me out when I went through a bad phase recently. I could call him at any time of the day or night and he would patiently listen, divert my attention, give me surprise visits just to cheer me up. And he never expected anything but friendship from me. I didn’t feel that I was burdening him with my emotions, I didn’t have to be careful, I could be the emotional girl I am with him. I didn’t have to carry a rep with him or wonder that he would demand a price for his show of affection. All that he expected was a smiling friend in return for his troubles.
Then around 3 months ago, he moved back to Delhi, his hometown. Most of us friends were sad but we felt that after all that he had gone through the last year, going back home would do him good. And true to his style, just last month he came down on a surprise visit to Mumbai just a week prior to my birthday. All of us went out to Gorai to celebrate the engagement of another friend and we were again ribbing him about how he should now get married. His parents were pressurising him and he was dodging it off because he was still in love with his girl and we had again started scolding him.
And now I am left with so much unsaid, so much anger that he is dead. Since morning, I have only been repeating to myself, he is dead, he is dead, as if my repetition would somehow change the reality. I still half expect him to call and say it was all a prank. Listening to ‘kaise batayein kyun tumko chahein’ would be a painful reminder as that was his ringtone. There are so many little things about this friendship, this boy I have only met half a dozen times, things that might live on for quite some time even though he didn’t. Heck he wasn’t even 25. Why this boy who may have only hurt people in ignorance, why not those who make a living out of hurting people? Anger, confusion and just pain at a life that was lost. But A you had a full life, you had friends, you loved like never before and you touched the lives of many. Yes, the few years you lived, you probably lived more than many a lifetime. RIP. Miss you ever.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Maar diya jaaye ki chod diya jaaye
Originally published for the company website www.ibnlive.com
When it comes to Kasab, this is a no brainer you would say. Maar diya jaaye. One of the few terrorists in the world who was caught alive, Ajmal Amir Kasab has now been in jail for around 18 months. And in this period he has been a living, breathing, unscathed reminder of the horrors of the most dramatic terror attack in the history of the world. As I write this, the Mumbai police is in deep discussion with journalists of the city to provide for unhitched and secure media coverage. Security has been increased near the Arthur Road Jail complex and by Monday there will be many more road diversions and restrictions around the area. Newsrooms are abuzz with discussions on how to carry the story, who would follow it and who are the talking heads to consult about this trial.
Everything about Kasab has till now generated a lot of curiosity. He was the one man the nation could punish for not just his acts but for the failure of important security agencies. He was the embodiment of the nation’s frustration, the living proof of why we no longer felt safe in this country. And so the brash behaviour of this 21 year old became the topic of great discussion. ‘Look at how fearlessly and remorselessly he was shooting those people at CST’, ‘He is the one who killed our brave officers’, ‘Look at how he mocks the judges at court’, these were oft repeated sentences showing our collective hatred of one man who reminded us time and again of what we lost and how we failed on 26/11. We burnt effigies, staged plays, made Ganpati pandals and did whatever we could to act out our anger towards him and the ideology he represented.
Since day one every report has been about what is going on in Kasab’s mind, what did he eat, what was he wearing, was he laughing, was he frowning, did he understand the question, has he picked up Marathi, any and every information about the kind of person the aam aadmi is never going to become. We even had people commenting on how well kept he looked, how he was ‘handsome’ (yeah right) and there was also the youngster who declared live on FM radio how she found Kasab cute and would like to meet him (Stockholm syndrome or its variant?). Notoriety after all is not exactly the opposite of popularity, its just the other side of the same coin.
The trial itself went through a lot of twists and turns. First there was no lawyer and the late Shahid Azmi had said that Kasab should be hanged without trial after declaring him a state enemy. Then a little known Anjali Waghmare came in, was spooked out by the Sena and enter Abbas Kazmi, who was later sacked for inconsistencies. And all through this time there was the push and pull between India and Pakistan about who was Kasab. There were the various confessions and retractions and allegations and counter allegations. And despite the heinous crimes, it seemed that Ajmal Kasab had also become a prime time entertainer for our voyeuristic pleasures. Every story about him fed the curiosity of a public trying to decode the mind of a terrorist. The only ones who hated every bit of it were understandably, the victims. Many of those from the lower strata of the society wondered why 31 crores were spent on him, when some of them are still waiting for the lakh or two of compensation sanctioned by government authorities.
On Monday, though it might seem to be the beginning of the end. A verdict shall be pronounced and the question Maar diya jaaye ki nahin would hopefully be answered. But the saga seems to be far from over. In a country where there is a huge gap between the sentencing and the actual punishment, this could just be the beginning of another long drawn process. The questions might shift from whether to hang him to when to hang him, where to hang him and even is there an executioner available? If there is another appeal, then the process could even get longer.
But these questions seem irrelevant to many Mumbaikars. The bigger question as always is whether this would be an exemplary verdict, which would discourage any such attacks in future. Doubtful. Or maybe the mundane question of the layman is more important, ‘Madam Kasab ko phaansi hone ke baad Arthur road ko jo one way banaya tha voh wapas se two way hoga ki nahin?’
When it comes to Kasab, this is a no brainer you would say. Maar diya jaaye. One of the few terrorists in the world who was caught alive, Ajmal Amir Kasab has now been in jail for around 18 months. And in this period he has been a living, breathing, unscathed reminder of the horrors of the most dramatic terror attack in the history of the world. As I write this, the Mumbai police is in deep discussion with journalists of the city to provide for unhitched and secure media coverage. Security has been increased near the Arthur Road Jail complex and by Monday there will be many more road diversions and restrictions around the area. Newsrooms are abuzz with discussions on how to carry the story, who would follow it and who are the talking heads to consult about this trial.
Everything about Kasab has till now generated a lot of curiosity. He was the one man the nation could punish for not just his acts but for the failure of important security agencies. He was the embodiment of the nation’s frustration, the living proof of why we no longer felt safe in this country. And so the brash behaviour of this 21 year old became the topic of great discussion. ‘Look at how fearlessly and remorselessly he was shooting those people at CST’, ‘He is the one who killed our brave officers’, ‘Look at how he mocks the judges at court’, these were oft repeated sentences showing our collective hatred of one man who reminded us time and again of what we lost and how we failed on 26/11. We burnt effigies, staged plays, made Ganpati pandals and did whatever we could to act out our anger towards him and the ideology he represented.
Since day one every report has been about what is going on in Kasab’s mind, what did he eat, what was he wearing, was he laughing, was he frowning, did he understand the question, has he picked up Marathi, any and every information about the kind of person the aam aadmi is never going to become. We even had people commenting on how well kept he looked, how he was ‘handsome’ (yeah right) and there was also the youngster who declared live on FM radio how she found Kasab cute and would like to meet him (Stockholm syndrome or its variant?). Notoriety after all is not exactly the opposite of popularity, its just the other side of the same coin.
The trial itself went through a lot of twists and turns. First there was no lawyer and the late Shahid Azmi had said that Kasab should be hanged without trial after declaring him a state enemy. Then a little known Anjali Waghmare came in, was spooked out by the Sena and enter Abbas Kazmi, who was later sacked for inconsistencies. And all through this time there was the push and pull between India and Pakistan about who was Kasab. There were the various confessions and retractions and allegations and counter allegations. And despite the heinous crimes, it seemed that Ajmal Kasab had also become a prime time entertainer for our voyeuristic pleasures. Every story about him fed the curiosity of a public trying to decode the mind of a terrorist. The only ones who hated every bit of it were understandably, the victims. Many of those from the lower strata of the society wondered why 31 crores were spent on him, when some of them are still waiting for the lakh or two of compensation sanctioned by government authorities.
On Monday, though it might seem to be the beginning of the end. A verdict shall be pronounced and the question Maar diya jaaye ki nahin would hopefully be answered. But the saga seems to be far from over. In a country where there is a huge gap between the sentencing and the actual punishment, this could just be the beginning of another long drawn process. The questions might shift from whether to hang him to when to hang him, where to hang him and even is there an executioner available? If there is another appeal, then the process could even get longer.
But these questions seem irrelevant to many Mumbaikars. The bigger question as always is whether this would be an exemplary verdict, which would discourage any such attacks in future. Doubtful. Or maybe the mundane question of the layman is more important, ‘Madam Kasab ko phaansi hone ke baad Arthur road ko jo one way banaya tha voh wapas se two way hoga ki nahin?’
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Cricket and all that jazz
I should start this post with a disclaimer. The last world cup I followed religiously was more than 10 years ago. The 99 World Cup. And this post is more about memories. 99 World cup was a refreshing break after the 10th board exams for most of us. Those were the days I used to know the names of Kenyan players too. For a person who took pride in the fact of being born in the year the country won the world cup, cricket was a natural obsession. But then the match fixing scandal broke. The idealistic teenager in me was frustrated with the scandals in the game especially heartbroken to know that the fiery team led by Azhar was not all that fiery really. And hence ended the cricket craze for me.
Subsequent World cups were a blur. And especially after players like Jhonty Rhodes quit, I didn’t have the incentive to watch even my favourite underdogs South Africa. With Sachin, it was love, hate, awe, disgust all the usual feelings that the average viewer has for him. And after that the only places I saw cricketers was in ad films. I knew the top brand ambassadors, but didn’t bother again for the one match/series wonders or the team fixtures. Gone were the school friends who would gush about how cool Shahid Afridi was. Even Shoaib Akhtar’s histrionics only held my attention very briefly. Gone was the craze for having a batsman’s average and a bowler’s previous best on my fingertips, today I have almost become the typical girl who doesn’t like cricket much. Not even aapdo Amdavadno chokro Parthiv Patel got me interested.
The only T20 memory I have is of Dhoni’s team passing by my Mumbai home and watching all the frenzy standing at the gate. The team under Dhoni seemed to be getting the same fiery edge that it had long ago. Suddenly my interest was revived, but never did it reach the extent of sitting down to watch even a fast paced T20 match.
But for the first time this year, I thought I would catch up on the IPL action. Felt like watching atleast all the Mumbai Indians matches, 3 years in the city makes you a devotee. The mongoose and its shenanigans seemed interesting. Plus the large screen set up at Press club, friends and the newly acquired habit of gulping cocktails proved to be some incentives. And just one tweet ended it all. This time there was no disappointment, just a quiet acceptance, a ‘this is the way it is’ attitude. But this scandal turned out to be much bigger, murkier. Match fixing seems almost tame now. Anyone who was anybody and their sons and daughters were part of this scandal. Older and hopefully wiser, there wasn’t much idealism left in me and hence not disappointed at all. Just waiting to see whether it would be Mahesh Bhatt, Madhur Bhandarkar or Ram Gopal Varma who would make the biopic on Lalit Modi. More importantly, who will play Sunanda?
Subsequent World cups were a blur. And especially after players like Jhonty Rhodes quit, I didn’t have the incentive to watch even my favourite underdogs South Africa. With Sachin, it was love, hate, awe, disgust all the usual feelings that the average viewer has for him. And after that the only places I saw cricketers was in ad films. I knew the top brand ambassadors, but didn’t bother again for the one match/series wonders or the team fixtures. Gone were the school friends who would gush about how cool Shahid Afridi was. Even Shoaib Akhtar’s histrionics only held my attention very briefly. Gone was the craze for having a batsman’s average and a bowler’s previous best on my fingertips, today I have almost become the typical girl who doesn’t like cricket much. Not even aapdo Amdavadno chokro Parthiv Patel got me interested.
The only T20 memory I have is of Dhoni’s team passing by my Mumbai home and watching all the frenzy standing at the gate. The team under Dhoni seemed to be getting the same fiery edge that it had long ago. Suddenly my interest was revived, but never did it reach the extent of sitting down to watch even a fast paced T20 match.
But for the first time this year, I thought I would catch up on the IPL action. Felt like watching atleast all the Mumbai Indians matches, 3 years in the city makes you a devotee. The mongoose and its shenanigans seemed interesting. Plus the large screen set up at Press club, friends and the newly acquired habit of gulping cocktails proved to be some incentives. And just one tweet ended it all. This time there was no disappointment, just a quiet acceptance, a ‘this is the way it is’ attitude. But this scandal turned out to be much bigger, murkier. Match fixing seems almost tame now. Anyone who was anybody and their sons and daughters were part of this scandal. Older and hopefully wiser, there wasn’t much idealism left in me and hence not disappointed at all. Just waiting to see whether it would be Mahesh Bhatt, Madhur Bhandarkar or Ram Gopal Varma who would make the biopic on Lalit Modi. More importantly, who will play Sunanda?
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
The walk
She walked by the beach. Her feet feeling the soft sand, some sort of soothing effect that had on her constantly churning brain. The sand was slipping through her toes, kissing them and then just going by. It was like the eternal dance of time. There was some strange comfort in feeling something not so solid beneath you, in feeling something that moulded itself to you. Sand at the sea is like a lover’s embrace, one that fits your body perfectly. As she walked into the sunset, it felt as if every tension was leaving her through her toes. The sand was absorbing it all. She had long believed that is how love should be. Something that absorbed all your worries, consumed them and replaced them with loving care. But what she had overlooked all this while was that while she was busy getting the loving caress of the sand, the sand itself was getting depressed by her footprints. While she got her love, the sand was losing some parts of itself, being pushed down. Some parts of it was still sticking to her, but most of it was just going down, deep down into some unknown darkness. Was this truly love then?
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