The paratha paradox

I love parathas. They're roti and subzee mixed all-in-one! You can just roll them up and be done with dinner in a few bites. Or lunch. I mean, alu parathas are heavy, I assumed they're best for a good heavy lunch.

Boy was I wrong! As I landed in the land of Parathas and looked forward to filling myself to my heart's content with alu paratha, muli paratha, gobi paratha and even rabri paratha, I found out that looking for a paratha in the north after 10 am is like looking for water on Mars.

Plus if you ask any waiter or a street vendor for one, they look at you as if you've come from outer space. "Paratha toh sirf dus baje tak milta hai madam."

Considering how I'm never up at that hour, (dozing either at home or in office) I wonder when I'll get any parathas. I think parathe wali galli might be the only place in the entire Delhi where you can get parathas in the evening. I say lunch, they say snack! Jheejhus!

Image courtesy: http://chakali.blogspot.com

Rockstar.. Yeah right!!!

You know you've come for a terrible movie when:
1) You wonder when the movie is going to get over and realize that the interval is not here yet
2) You want to kill the reviewer who gave the movie 4 stars when he should have actually given half
3) You thank God you reached twenty minutes late and missed the beginning of a pointless movie, the plot of which was much better shown in its two minute trailer

I generally enjoy movies, irrespective of how boring or pointless they are, but this was the first one I felt like leaving half way through. I didn't leave because I thought, there must be some point, come on some point! But as I found out at the end of three excruciating hours, there was none.

The movie was extremely disappointing for two reasons. First, from the title it seems like the movie is about the life of a musician or 'Rockstar'. That is absolutely misleading. It is a love story. Period.

Second, the editing is terrible. I once heard from a good writer that the art of story telling requires a sense of which parts you delve on and which parts you fast forward. The plot is in itself flimsy, and bad editing makes it worse, as the movie delves on the boring love story, and fast forwards the so-called heartbreaks that turned the protagonist into a 'Rockstar', thus making it lose credibility.

In comparison, I would say Rock On came the closest to actually showing, to some extent, the lifestyle of musicians. At least it was believable. This movie does no justice to its title.

Ranbir Kapoor has tried hard and is endearing in most parts as the brash Jat boy who wants to become a cool rockstar. His transition from a geeky college kid to a seemingly heartbroken adult is smooth albeit the hard knocks which cause this transition are not convincing.

From what I've gathered so far, the guys love Nargis Fakhri and I must say that lady can point her toes. Her short dance sequence in the beginning and in Hawa Hawa are a pleasure to watch. However, her acting and her accent made me cringe.

The chemistry is sizzling between the lead pair. A R Rahman's songs are delightful and apt for a love story but not for a 'rock' movie which this anyway isnt.

It seems as Imtiaz Ali warms up to the art of film making he is getting more cautious and commercial. His 'Socha Na Tha', though a love story, was extremely off beat and fresh. The same goes with Jab We Met. He's now going to direct a South remake. I hope he shows some creativity there at least.

I am....

I bring a smile to your face,
When I ruffle your hair,
You can only feel me,
As you close your eyes,

And dream of hot summers and warm breezes,
Or wish for cool winters,
I accompany you in all seasons,
In all moments, on all occasions,

But then I disappear,
And the leaves don't breathe,
The stillness dulls you,
It aches in you, throbs in you,

So you build a high wall,
To capture me the next time I come around,
I resist once,
I resist twice,

I break your wall,
And break free again,
For I am the wind,
Only a fool would try to contain me,

Instead, wise women have advised,
Don't try to capture me,
For I'm the sand that'll slip out of your fingers,
I'm the water that'll dry in your palm,

I'm the wind that'll never stop,
Instead of trying to stop me,
Spread your wings and come fly with me,
Come, see the world as I see it,

Beautiful twilights that only seem pink from earth,
Twinkling starry nights not hidden by clouds,
Waves hitting the coasts for miles and miles,
Rolling green meadows with violet tulips,

I might disappear once in a while,
Just flap your wings harder then,
And soon you'll find me by your side,
Lifting you, taking you with me to eternity

Zindagi Na Milega Dobara

Finally it's here! I feel like I've been waiting to write this review since ages.
Let's not forget the FR: Liked it at a lot of levels, and it moved me too, but didn't touch me...

Three friends embark on a road trip in Spain that is to double up as a bachelor party for Kabir (Abhay) who has recently proposed to fiancé Natasha (Kalki). Imran (Farhan) and Arjun (Hrithik) complete the troika of the three musketeers, who were once very close, but now awkward with each other due to old differences. The road trip acts as the vehicle for the friends to resolve past differences, rediscover each other and of course realize that “you live just once”.

Abhay Deol once again impresses with his ability to effortlessly slip into any given role and make it memorable. The fact that both the other main protagonists share a soft corner for him, and slightly cold vibes with each other, also help Kabir to come across as the most likeable of the three. The initial awkwardness between Imran and Arjun due to past differences somehow carries throughout the movie, where there is no warmth even when they reconcile. It’s Kabir running the show, who truly makes you believe that maybe, the three musketeers did exist.

Contrary to what most critics have said, this movie is not comparable to DCH simply because both movies deal with different issues. DCH was coming of age, ZNMD is about what happens after you've made your choices. What happens after you've proposed, after you work 16 hours in your dream job, earning millions...

The movie opens with Kabir down on one knee proposing to Tanya, who agrees to marry him. Elated, he  sets off on a bachelor trip with his two closest friends Arjun and Imran. According to a college pact, each person gets to choose one adventure sport of their choice, which the other 2 have to participate in. The chosen sport is a surprise till the friends reach the destination. 

With every silly prank they indulge in, and every crazy sport they survive through, the friends grow closer, rediscovering each other, and reconsidering decisions that they thought were fixed. Kabir finds his girlfriend changing completely, while Arjun wonders whether making money really makes him happy. The movie builds towards conquering fears and realizing that zindagi na milegi dobara.

Although it is easy to dismiss this movie as a typical “rich people doing cool things” Bollywood Yashraj fare, a deeper look reveals how true director Zoya Akhtar has remained to real life. For instance, in every vacation, one assumes that each moment is going to be picture perfect from the word go. But in real life, vacationers suffer from holiday anxiety and often end up ruining their holidays.

So do our main protagonists, when fast-talking, money-minded, severely hassled broker Arjun almost cancels the vacation due to his work, and mysterious rivalry with Imran. The first fight erupts as soon as they hit the road, with Kabir pleading with the other two to let bygones be bygones and not ruin the trip.

A special word of mention for Hrithik Roshan, as he plays a  rude, money-minded guy with a delicious nonchalance, making jibes about salaries without a thought to anyone’s sensitivities. At the same time, his vulnerability as someone whose life is governed by the clock and his phone pulls at your heart. His transformation then, when the beautiful scuba instructor (Katrina) changes his way of looking at life, is both believable and endearing.

Some of the most profound moments are captured during and after the adventure sports and Javed Akhtar’s poems lead a surreal charm to the excellent scenery. At the end of the first adventure sport, with the gorgeous Laila (Katrina) guiding the friends through a beautiful scuba diving experience, all four come back onboard their ship and sit in silence, barely looking at each other. Their relationship deepens here first, where they enjoy each other’s company, without speaking a word, which can only happen when you share a profound experience with someone. The scene is made even more beautiful with miles of water on all sides, the boat rocking gently and Akhtar senior’s poetry in Farhan’s voice, resounding with the soothing background music. 

When you travel miles away from your close ones, and experience something they haven’t, you can’t help believing that you’ve changed a little, forever. With this change in mindset, come doubts about almost every decision governing your life.  It is these doubts that Zoya truthfully brings out in this movie. 

The songs are mostly hummable, with senorita being the only foot-tapping number. This song also marks the high point in the camaraderie between the stars and the sexy choreography does add to the swoon factor. 

The three good looking dudes manage to steal your hearts, but unfortunately their chemistry leaves much to be desired. Akhtar’s jokes could have been funnier, and the dialogues at some point literally make you cringe. Katrina, however, looks gorgeous throughout and convincingly plays the part of a carefree scuba diving instructor who lives life to the fullest. Kalki also impresses as she switches between loving and manipulating her boyfriend with equal panache. 

The film’s USP is its superb cinematography, and the gradual warming of relations between the three friends. I could relate to it especially because of its core theme, which is that one should spend his/her time doing what one loves best. We often box ourselves in, conforming to society, following rules blindly and running in the rat race to achieve society-defined success. But the realization, that we live just once, can often come when least expected, and then turn our lives upside down for the better. Watch this movie for the fun ride of three friends as they rebuild lost friendships, rediscover nature and its beauty and realize what has been missing in their lives all along. You might find your perspective changing too...

Oh God, not again

I was merrily shopping in a mall in Delhi when my friend got an SMS.
"Terror attack in Mumbai. Red alert in Delhi".

At first I didn't comprehend what she said. Terror attack? TERROR ATTACK? That too in Mumbai. Not again, I thought. It's so unfair. I mean haven't the people there suffered enough? And moreover, this time the target hit close to home. What was once home. Dadar.

I was furious. I ran home and switched on the TV for more news, and soon turned it off. Rajdeep Sardesai totally turned me off. TV reporting is so terrible at times like these. Moreover I was disgusted to see some people on the streets smiling into the cameras. No shame. That is the mantra, it seems.

The last time it happened, I wasn't acquainted with Mumbai at all. I watched the news about 26/11 and went off to sleep after a while. After having stayed in Mumbai for over a year, it has become a part of me. The rush, the madness, the race to catch a local, reach on time, brave the humidity, all with people just like you. The city pulsates with life, at every moment, whether you are awake or asleep.

And yet again, somebody tried to break Mumbai's spirit. I am pained by this repeated attempt to kill the spirit which is so cherished and valued by people all over the world.

Though these attacks bring people together, on some level I think they make them more suspicious of each other. My cousin told me how people were panicking while traveling in the train over unattended luggage.
We have security checks in malls, but what's the point of it all if someone blows up a bomb right in the middle of a crowded street. What's the solution? Here are some, which gave me a tiny ray of hope


While much has been said about Mumbai's resilience, I think this is an insult more than anything. When the Fukushima nuclear disaster took place, many foreign journalists commended the Japanese spirit of resilience, but thought they took it too far, as hardly any blame was placed on the government. The Japanese people silently bore it all, without once demanding better security from the government, I think the same is happening here.

Seeing Mumbai locals crowded the very next day, we think "Ah Mumbai can take it". No, it can't. And here's praying, it won't have to..

White Lily - an inspiration

I don't expect many of my readers to recognize this woman. She has mostly played bit parts in Bhool Bhulaiya, Billu and a few other movies. Some might recognize her as Tara Fui from the serial Bandini. I rarely paid any attention to her myself, since I always saw her in typical roles with a stern expression.

My ignorance was given a kick in its butt when my friend told me that she is a veteran Marathi theater actress. He dragged me to watch her play, White Lily N Knight Rider. I was amazed at the transformation.

In this play, she plays a 36 year old woman looking for love. It's a bold role with the character wanting to explore "sexual compatibility" before confirming any alliance with her 39 year old "date". The plot has a contemporary feel as the two protagonists meet online. In fact, White Lily and Knight Rider are their chat IDs.

This was the first time I saw a professional Marathi play and I loved the experience. I especially enjoyed the sets, music and most importantly the acting. I was pleasantly surprised to see Rasika Joshi portray a role which I could relate to so easily. For a moment I wondered, why doesn't Bollywood ever give her a chance to strut her stuff? And then I found out it was too late.

I feel truly blessed that I got to see her perform live before she passed away. She was battling cancer since the last few months and I saw the play just a few weeks ago. Looking at her, nobody would've guessed what she was going through. According to media reports, she continued shooting despite her illness, and showed a remarkable degree of professionalism. I laugh now as I remember how she momentarily dropped her character, walked to the front of the stage and chastised a man for speaking on the phone during her performance.

On a Marathi chat show, she said that she'd put her play on hold for ten minutes when a dignitary sitting in the front row refused to hang up his cell phone. That was the attention she commanded. And why shouldn't she? When she can stand there despite being so close to death and give her 100% I think the least she would expect is undivided attention.

Even if I'm suffering from a mild case of stomach upset, I hang up my boots and take an off. Here is a lady who never said no, despite suffering from an illness that kills your spirit first, and then your body. White Lily is an inspiration, a lesson in perseverance and dedication to your work.

Being a woman...

The SlutWalk has gained a lot of coverage recently with people expressing their opinions on the "skimpy clothing" to be worn during the parade, to the name "Slutwalk" itself. I thought I am a liberal feminist, who is all for women's lib and freedom, but even I was quite shocked after hearing the title of this movement. Why would any woman call herself a slut purposely? When I read the rationale behind the choice of the title, I was convinced somewhat, but not entirely. Slutwalk is supposed to express a woman's right to wear anything she wants to, without being called names, specifically, a slut. Ironical? I think so. 

However, the description on the Delhi events website brought a lump to my throat. Specifically, this part:

Language and derogatory slang have been used to shame women, to instruct them on how they should behave and what they shouldn’t do. This is what words like ‘slut’ do. They tell you that if you are not moral, that you are inappropriate. They are an insult. They are meant to shame you. 

In our society, rape is touted as an act of sex and sexual attraction. It isn’t. It’s a heinous crime of violence. It’s a hegemonic tool of oppression that seeks to ‘punish’ women. It’s a threat to the very being of women. Not the act itself, but the connotations it has. Rape is the complete refusal to give a woman the choice to her own body. Rape is a patriarchal tool designed to ensure that women are kept in check, that they always remain the ‘second sex’. It seeks to reiterate that women are supposed to remain at the mercy of men. We repeat, rape is NOT about sex or lust.  

Even so, the woman is always blamed for bringing on the rape. What was she doing alone at night?! Why was she wearing a skirt?! Why did she not have a male companion with her?! How could her parents let her go out of the house without her brother or father?! Why was she driving alone?! We cast aspersions on the character of the woman, and her morals. It has to be her fault, doesn’t it? The men are not at fault. The men are only serving justice on a platter. She asked for it; THAT seems to be there defence. We see it around us. Whether it is newspaper reports or in discussions related to rape. Women are told not to wear clothes that show their ‘enticing bits’. They are told they should learn self defence and carry pepper sprays, never mind the effectiveness of each. Women are taught, from a very early age, not to be raped. To be careful, to be on the guard. We feel the horrors and fears of being raped every day of our lives. But we are told to internalise it and live with it. Because men will be men. No, men will never be taught NOT to rape. ‘Aise ladkiyon ke saath toh aisa hi hona tha!’

I've felt like this every day of my life. And now, the fear is even more magnified in Delhi.  I get irritated when I see a man standing in the ladies compartment of the metro. No woman has the courage to scold him or ask him to get out. Neither do I. The fact that the SlutWalk has come to Delhi rather than any other city says something. Not to compare, but in Mumbai, men are literally scared of climbing into the women's compartment of the local. Why are women more scared and men more shameless in Delhi? 

And so I find myself confused by the besharmi morcha. I understand the rationale behind it, but I don't want to call myself a slut to not feel bad about being called a slut. Of course it's a good thing that women are getting a voice, but I felt it was a bit over the top. 

Till I read this article. Key point:

...the number of “missing” women has risen to more than 160 million, and a journalist named Mara Hvistendahl has given us a much more complete picture of what’s happened. Her book is called “Unnatural Selection: Choosing Boys Over Girls, and the Consequences of a World Full of Men.” As the title suggests, Hvistendahl argues that most of the missing females weren’t victims of neglect. They were selected out of existence, by ultrasound technology and second-trimester abortion.

The spread of sex-selective abortion is often framed as a simple case of modern science being abused by patriarchal, misogynistic cultures. Patriarchy is certainly part of the story, but as Hvistendahl points out, the reality is more complicated — and more depressing.

Thus far, female empowerment often seems to have led to more sex selection, not less.

It’s society at large, she argues, citing evidence that gender-imbalanced countries tend to be violent and unstable. It’s the women in those countries, she adds, pointing out that skewed sex ratios are associated with increased prostitution and sex trafficking. 

 The tragedy of the world’s 160 million missing girls isn’t that they’re “missing.” The tragedy is that they’re dead. 

I was simultaneously depressed and elated on reading this article. Elated, that my parents didn't think this way. And depressed, that no matter which class of society you belong to, people still consider a female to be inferior to a male. And WOMEN do it to their own daughters.  Female infanticide is not restricted to people from lower income groups, who might be forgiven for hoping for sons as they might bring in more income. This mindset is ALL pervasive in our society. 

And now I think, hone do besharmi morcha. In a society where a female's life has such little value, maybe a hoarde of women in skimpy clothes might force "sharam" in a society that has forgotten the meaning of the word. This besharmi morcha isn't merely about being labelled a slut, it's about having the right to live, away from the labels that society thrusts upon a woman. The label of being weak, the label of being a poor income earner, the label of being weak minded, the label of being not fit to live. I am going to participate, just to reiterate the fact that I'm a woman, and proud of it.