Mellow and Green

Just watching Pakistan complete an impressively mature win over Australia in the World Twenty20, it struck me that I'm no longer routinely anti-Pakistani as I used to be as a kid. Back then, when it came to sports, I would vigorously root for a Pakistani loss. Such a venom sometimes got in the way of seeing the quality of the likes of greats Imran and Wasim Akram. Of course, Javed and his kind didn't help matters :-)

I remember being bitterly disappointed when England were bundled out in the finals to a rampaging Pakistan, who were so lucky to get to the finals. It seemed they had the kind of luck that India never ever seemed to get (and still don't!). Getting our noses rubbed in the scorching sands of the Sharjah desert meant that I didn't quite miss not having cable television those days!

Things have changed. I can watch Pakistan play sport and appreciate their good performances. It was often conjectured, especially in the immediate post-Kargil atmosphere, whether more India-Pak matches would in fact assuage tensions. I don't know about that, but I attribute my own mellowing down to a larger vein of downplaying the impact of such sporting outcomes on my own life. So occasionally the adrenalin pumps at a close match, but on the whole, a certain detachment has helped.

The first time I can remember actually appreciating a Pakistani sporting performance was in the 1994 Hockey World Cup, where the men in green, led by the legendary Shahbaz Ahmed took the crown. Chak De Pakistan, perhaps.

Bridge under troubled waters

Bridge under troubled waters

The Rama Setu issue has finally found its way on to the front pages, news headlines, and its own weekend debate episodes. For many weeks, one could see non sequiturs on several online news fora, where the comments would have been randomly hijacked on to the topic.

The same hordes of political spokesmen trotted out the same set of debating points. M.K.Gandhi's references to "Hey Ram" and "Ram Rajya" have been recalled. "Ram" is an integral part of India's psyche, we are told.

Surprisingly, for something that is an integral part of our psyche, we don't remember a Ram Rajya during the daily dregs of our governance. Cricket, in comparison, makes a higher rate of impact per day than the memory of Rama would. Not that poor cricket is to be blamed for the state of affairs.

So can I still ask a question on Rama under "mythology" rather than "history"? Does it matter if your icons existed or not? Can we, for instance, not follow the excellent examples of brave Harry Potter and the sharp Sherlock Holmes?

Come, write

Come write

Before the screening of Chak De India began, the preceding trailer (only one trailer - we want more trailers!) was that of Madhuri Dixit's "comeback" venture Aaja Nachle. I'm not much of a Nene fan and I leave the adulation to Hawaiian ornithologists¹. More interestingly though was that there were three names listed: the director (Anil Mehta), producer (Aditya Chopra), and finally the writer. Jaideep Sahni.

While proving that nothing succeeds like success, it's great to see writers make it on the frontlines. After Company, Bunty aur Babli, Khosla ka Ghosla, and now Chak De India, one can look forward to a film because the Dada lookalike is part of the mix. Make space on the top, Anurag Kashyap.

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1: Trivia bit: courtesy Landmark Quiz 2007, Pune.

The old days were better" argument was better in the olden days

"The old days were better" argument was better in the olden days

I overheard a conversation, the likes of which are very routine. Essentially, someone will crib about the (admittedly) atrocious nature of most film songs. Then they will introduce a comparison to a 'guzaraa huaa zamaanaa' (sometimes so ancient that even the Archaeological Survey of India will be scared to swear any affidavits on its vintage and existence). They will say something generically disparaging about "hallii cha kaaLaat", mainly based on the evidence of radio shows that play the "good old songs".

O' eavesdroppee: do you honestly expect the radio shows to play equally appalling songs from the past, especially if no one pays them to do so? Will not the best songs of a generation find repeated resonance, in minds and media, in future years? Do you think we shall still be listening to hara-kiri invitations in 2 years time, let alone after 25 years?

The point, in a less smart-ass way, is this: surely every period of film music had its share of great output mixed with the dumplings of fly-by-night-release-by-day operators who just wanted to have a song you could take a break to. I'm willing to bet the proportions would have been the same. I can present anecdotal evidence of bad lyrics ("appalam-chappalam") and surely we can dig up a few hum-miyaas from before.

We'll see whose right when I overhear your conversations again in 10 years time.

It seems there's even a law for this: Sturgeon's_law. (Link swept from India Uncut)

Scratch, scratch

Appreciation of art is so subjective that it boggles my mind when people can make one word assessments of anything that they have seen or heard.

Take fiction, for instance. When you like a piece of writing, say a short story, what aspects to it did you enjoy? Nikhil and I did a little exercise to take some of our favourite short stories and analyse what made them interesting. Most readers like short stories with a twist at the end. Some like the story to have a message of some kind, perhaps with a good dose of emotion. Stories with a clever and novel way of narration, which I couldn't foresee: I like these a lot.

When you go to places that are supposedly the repositories of great short fiction, you are also trying to educate yourself on what the pundits think to be excellent writing in this form. But in many cases, as with award-winning prose, you don't always appreciate what the fuss is all about.

Recently, I've begun to occasionally read stories from The New Yorker. The basic writing quality of the pieces are never in question. But sometimes, you're not so sure about the plot. Take Nawabdin Electrician, about a cheerful handyman who is attacked by a thief. The story seems abbreviated and hence unmemorable. However, Mr. Bones by Paul Theroux, is fairly engaging. Partly autobiographical, it is about a man who suddenly goes off-kilter because he's taking part in a minstrel show. Here again, the story is not of immense proportions, but the uneasy transformation of this repressed man is fascinating, even though brief.

Druid's out of potion

Ok, first of all, relax. Despite what the shrill news channels will have you believe, royalty has not decided to abdicate in favour of the sloth bears. So there's no need to "deconstruct the mind of Dravid", for the reasons are quite obvious.

As any clear-headed observer can tell, captaining India involves a lot more than playing cricket. Dravid is astute enough to see that two years in the saddle have been enough, and he seems of a nature sensitive enough to not have forgotten the inflammatory recriminations not-so long ago. As Siddhartha V. writes: "somewhere along the line, especially after Chappell's departure, Dravid probably realised he couldn't achieve what he set out to." Also, a diminishing output and a series where his captaincy was at times very lacklustre would have surely had him sealing the envelope on the resignation. It was best to relinquish and go back unfettered, to his primary skills as batsman and outstanding slip-catcher.

However, is this a "selfish decision", as some have called it? Not really - why have a captain who doesn't want to do it?

This brings the curtain down on a "cerebral" phase of Indian captaincy, which followed a much more extroverted "passion" phase. The spot, however, is likely to go to the third and (and despite being the youngest) oldest of the generation of 1974. I think he's going to take the job.

Since the next generation hasn't really thrown its hand up and claimed the moral right to lead, Sachin Tendulkar is necessarily going to be a stop-gap captain. No one can kid themselves that he will lead them into a new and glittering era. He can however help decide once and for all, the questions that have dogged the second half of his career. If the Class that was assembled in 1996 can safely and unitedly deliver Indian cricket to the future, they'd be remembered even more fondly.

As for Rahul Dravid, he's just a couple of years away from becoming India's best TV commentator. I have been awaiting this since the 1999 World Cup final.

Also read Rohit Brijnath's article on the topic.

Some for the road/Some for the bored

Some for the road/Some for the bored

As already mentioned, two free, open, cultured (ok, may be not) BC quizzes come up this Sunday in Pune. For those who did read the notice and are still on the fence, here are some movie questions from a recent quiz that I did. These will do nothing to sway your vote as aye or nay as regards the main quiz, but I'm just giving you something to do.

Here goes:

1. In the climax of Shaad Ali Sahgal’s recent debacle Jhoom Baraabar Jhoom, Abhishek Bachchan and Bobby Deol are on their way to see Preity Zinta. How is this scene trivially important?

2. The film "Pyaar Kiye Jaa" was a remake of a Tamil film by the same director and starred Shashi Kapoor, Kishore Kumar, and Mehmood in its cast. In the film, Mehmood is an aspiring film director who is launching his film with his miserly father’s (Om Prakash) money. What is the name of his film company?

3. She is Guru Dutt’s niece (and hence also related to Shyam Benegal). But just like Guru Dutt is incorrectly thought to hail from Bengal, partly due to his name and due to some of his Bengali-influenced work, people are confused with her origins too. During the shooting of the last film she was involved in, Mithun Chakraborty had been accused of indecent conduct. Name her.

Zero gets this right: Kalpana Lajmi is correct.

Riff liffts

Riff liffts

It happens a lot on radio, sometimes on TV. One can hear small but significant fragments of music taken directly from lesser known tracks, such as some of A.R.Rahman's Tamil works. For instance, today, a local radio ad was accompanied by one of those stunning interludes from Sahaanaa (Sivaji). Earlier, I have heard riffs from Madrasa sutthi paakka porEn (May Maatham) and the opening bars of the astounding Hello Mr. Ethirkatchi (Iruvar). A promo for a TV serial uses the wonderful title music from Vishal Bhardwaj's "The Blue Umbrella".

It's just that most ears don't realise or appreciate what gems have wafted by.

September's Big quizzing Sunday

We at the BCQC are organising two open quizzes this Sunday, to which entry is totally free. All the details in the previous links.

In a departure from previous editions, the morning's quiz will be an Open quiz with a Business flavour, which Harish promises will put the fun into "business" (even if it doesn't seem to belong there). The afternoon quiz will be by Niranjan Pedanekar, who in my not-very humble opinion, has set the best quizzes I've seen in my short quizzing lifespan.

So join us for a day of "factual harassment".

All he needs is love

All he needs is love

Cricket has always kept the sub-editors at the sports newsdesks happy, with a constant supply of various pun-worthy surnames. South African all-rounder Vernon Philander is no exception. Here's a man who will doubtlessly resurrect stock-in-trade phrases such as "bowling maidens over" and perhaps even be entitled to "getting his leg over".

What's more, his initials are "V.D.". All impressively appropriate for a Philander.

Flash news - the World is not Enough (for a Cup)

Flash news - the World is not Enough (for a Cup)

It seems that the event underway in Zuid Afrika at the moment is NOT a World Cup. I learnt this from the friendly folk at The Googly, from whom I also borrowed the emphatic negation. Before this, the dangling pointer that was the "ICC World Twenty20" did disturb some of my syntactic synapses which wondered worriedly whether a word¹ had dropped off the cliff when our backs were turned to it.

Apparently, this is not a World Cup, but just a Championship, quite like the ICC Champions Trophy. The Googly says the first T20 WC will happen in England in 2009. Thanks for the warning. I had almost ripped my clothes off in imitation of the dancing boundary-riders, who're functioning on Twenty20 percent clothing coverage. The ICC Marketing men have finally got their act together.

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1: did I just set a world record for alliterative w's ?

Jantar Mantar

Selling you the Jantar Mantar

Just curious. Given that ideas from the West are easily adapted to India, do we have pyramid schemes in India too? I have only heard of chit fund scandals in the past but not this small-scale-but-large-scale menace that George and Hirak have blogged about in the past.

I vote we call them Jantar-Mantar schemes.

Thumbs up for T20

I'm looking forward to the Twenty20 World Cup. Unlike many voices in the media, I'm not too apprehensive about the likely toll it will have on the other forms. It seems to me that the classical version of the game will benefit from this, at the expense of the ODI format. The wide contrast between the 5-day game and the 2.5 hour gala will ensure both forms survive - you will always get players who are both interested and good at both these cultures of cricket.

Perhaps the ODI game, already feeling the heat of hectic tour fixtures, the blot of commercialism, waning spectator interest, and an axe-on-foot World Cup, will suffer the most. The injections of Powerplay and the like haven't helped much. In contrast, the unabashed "viewer-first" upstart can co-exist with the solid uncle who's seen a bit of life.

I also don't think bowlers will be that badly hurt - they'll adapt to the free hits and the swings. A run-rate of 7 to 8 will become par, much as 6 is normal for ODIs today. What's more, I think bowlers will have more of an immediate effect on proceedings if they pick up wickets. Sure, they may not work themselves into a nice rhythm with a spell of 5 overs, but similarly, the batsman has no opportunity to play himself in. In many ODIs, a trishanku score of 225-odd sees the chasing team stumble at the beginning, only to play carefully and see out the 50 overs to win at a walking pace. In T20, the loss of a wicket is likely to steal an over from the batting team, which, given the budget of 120 balls, is a significant blow.

Sambit Bal has shrugged his shoulders and is cautiously optimistic. I'm sticking out my neck more than that!

Am feeling giddy enough to want to attempt some predictions. Ok, my pick for the preliminary round winners are: West Indies, England, New Zealand, and India. I don't know why South Africa end up playing the Windies in the first match of the WC, but the Caribbean men have been their bogey-side. I'm backing Bravo and company. England could put it past the Aussies, given their own experience at home, and the Aussie injury list. It's a toss-up between NZ and SL, but I go for NZ because of their international experience in this form and because SL are missing ol' "Eyes on Springs". India, not for sentimental reasons, but because Pakistan are rocked by their bowlers being involved in internecine warfare. Dhoni, beware of the bats.

Updates:
12 Sept: Damn, already one prediction seems to be blown away. Still, Gayle almost made it happen.

Can't tie him down

Roger Federer picks up another. It is worth noting that once again, he takes sets in tie-breakers, when it matters the most. Is it that he is unable to break his opponents regularly or is unwilling to do so, secure in his miles-ahead record in the tie-breakers? (typically, he does win with scores such as 7-2, though today was an exception).

To illustrate what I'm saying, this year he won the 1st set 7-6 (7-2) at the Australian Open, 1st and 3rd sets at Wimbledon in that classic match, and now two more tiebreakers in the US Open. Plus plenty other 7-6ers in the rest of the matches.

Like bagels and breadsticks, do they have a name for it? Croissants?

Crates full of river horses

This must be happening each day, at least 5 times every hour. But this is the first time I've seen one. This is how it went:

What about arches for celebrating the birthdays of Netas-again by digging the roads.These are Hippocrates (emphasis mine).

From a message posted on this Pune activist egroup.

The sad old Greek must be swearing an oath in his grave (also the subject of a philatelic question here).

Cliffhangers

Bus karo

Yeh world hai na world. You look around and you wonder about creation and the meaning of everything. But it gets exceedingly hard to believe in the miracle of God when all it comes down to when you're travelling in a bus and you get assaulted. And later you find out that Nisha Kothari was also in this one. How could it get any worse? (Actually, it could, but why tempt fate any further?)

I refer, of course, to the pit of horrors known as the song "aa khushii se khud-khushii kar le". Despite sharing space with shut-up, I instantly knew this was a Pritam compost-ition. To the song I say: How I wish could tell you\just how much I hate you. More of this and well, Vincent, starry starry nights beckon. Ear-ie feeling of insanity.

Critically Acclaimed

Critically Acclaimed

One of my favourite bloggers and film critics, Baradwaj Rangan, was the recipient of this year's National Award for Film Criticism. Belated notings. Finally, a National Award decision one can cheer.

Sky-masks

Sky-masks

Perhaps what I miss most of the last couple of years is the unhindered sight of the sky. Especially after the whole of last year, where I could lie back and see the sky through the open windows. A room with a lake-view was in great demand among residents (or "inmates") of my hostel, but for me, one with a sky-view was good enough, if not better.

Where I live, I don't see much of the land above. There are trees (pretty), houses growing as if they were preparing for the Tour de France (not so pretty), and cable lines slashing across what remains (sigh), but annotated with birds (cheer). But where I go to work, if I can find a way to peek outside, there are open skies. Stumbling on the edges are mountains, straight out of a 5 year old's drawing book.

The rest of the canvas are pages of colour, best when they seem blank.

Data Structures in Pop Culture

TV is educational. I recommend it particularly for CS students. Take this for example:

Jeff: There's the Giggle Loop, of course.
Steve: What?
Patrick: What's a Giggle Loop?
Jeff: Don't ask. To know about the Giggle Loop is to become part OF the Giggle Loop.
Steve: I think we can take it.
Jeff (breathing heavily): No, you're not ready for the Giggle Loop.
(Cut to empty beer glass)
Jeff: Basically, it's like a feedback loop...

[Explains the Giggle Loop]

Jeff (in utter horror): ... and oh dear Christ, you think it is funny!
Bartender (looking at glasses): Excuse me. What're you doing?
Jeff: It's a Giggle Loop (!).
Bartender: It's not a loop, it's a stack.
Jeff: Well, I couldn't call it a Giggle Stack, now, could I?
Steve: That would sound ridiculous.
Patrick: Exactly!

:: 'Sex, Death, and Nudity' - Episode 3, Series 1.

For another such error, see the sidebar of this blog.

The curse of Shao-lai

Whatever anyone says about RGV's dying embers, it makes a fantastic cuss word. Try it: "terii (ramgopalvar)ma ki aag".

eff 'em, err.., all

eff 'em, err.., all

At the end of it, everyone was mostly fed up. Einstein was wrong when he memorably said that he didn't know how WW3 would be fought, but WW4 would be fought with sticks and stones. Memorable quoting was all that he did, if you ask me. We've still got enough of the deadly stuff to mess around for atleast four generations. We've all just moved on to other pastimes, thank you. Ah, that Einstein. What luck he'd had passing off such elaborate dung as that relativity theory for 2 centuries!

"Hmmm... I think it's time you popped out and had your hair cut", she said, lazily running her hands through his curls.

"My locks of hair, talismans so rare, my maiden so fair..."

"Oh no... not in the morning, I beg of you - I admit bad poetry is much easier to digest in the night. Seriously, go."

"Yup."

*** He gazed at the ceiling. Blank. "Sri - either you get yourself tidied up tomorrow or don't come. That's about it. I have neither the patience nor the need to come mopping up after you. Those Japs come in tomorrow - so tie, haircut, black shoes. Shave. Pinstripe - if you own one".

Of course he didn't. You cooked your own skin on a slow roast in those, so it made sense to wear them only if you were a masochistic anthrophage.

He had to get up. Too hungry not too.

An apple later, he hopped over across the road to the saloon. In his fervid imagination (the part they wanted to repress), he could never think of that word without half-expecting a gunslinger in sepia to rush out. He realised it was also the news report. Perhaps it was the relative lack of concern among his fellow men. No disaster movie scenarios, no mass panic, no actor rushing against the crowds looking for his sweetheart or his pet iguana. Guess everyone felt the same way - if the rest of the populace didn't think anything was wrong, why should I? It was an infectious line of thinking.

Both chairs were occupied so he settled down. The lack of chirping there was very evident. So not everyone was unconcerned - even the not so news-savvy head hairdresser. Who looked at him sans his usual froth:

"To aapne news sunaa? Kyaa kyaa hotaa hai naa saab. Par sach kahuu.n kyaa, apne jaisaa logo.n pe kuch khaas difference nahi padnewaala."

"apane jaisaa"? Was he included in it or was it the ilk of the lower middle classes?

"kaun kambha.kt kehtaa hai" that he wouldn't have any "far.k" happen to him? Perhaps all you needed to do was to do it to yourself.

"15 minute aur lagegaa saab - abhi start kiyaa hai."

He threw a hand over his long curls - it had taken him the best part of 25 days and a little-known concoction to get them in this state. No, it had taken him 25 years to muster up the courage to grow them up in stiff violation of a life-long family code of never deviating from the boringly straight, the incessantly cautious, the strictly sober. A cantonment life in place of Brylcreem and zero cuts scything through any hairs that his father could grasp in one clutch of a fist. She wouldn't have liked it - she preferred his close crops though she always liked to tease him about his smooth looks.

She never goes away, does she? It had been 3 years 2 months since he stopped trying. But she lingered on, appearing in cameos in his mindspace each day, for varying times, with the most unusual associations. Oh, the ribbing he'd given her when she got her flowing tresses cropped - she took it rather well. It gave him a sense of importance, when she vowed never to repeat that again. Important at being able to influence such decisions in her life. Not all decisions though.

He felt a little warm. He needed to stretch out and think. With a "me.n baahar huu.n", he stepped out.

People don't realise it, but conformity is a disease - a social one. It spreads through contact, imposes its fangs pandemically and kills silently. Think for instance: what else explains such incredibly foolish trends such as bell-bottoms in the First Cold War Age, or those elaborate Victorian puffs and wigs, or if you go right back, the first rags covering the early Homo Sapiens (if they were conscious of being so haute couture). Similarly for weapons: Heads of State just had to have what everyone else had - sticks, then arrowheads, then cannonballs and so on. It never occured to them how easier it would be to not conform - all that wasted time. For we are a dying species and have always been.

He pulled out his IdCore to check all his messages. Part of the withdrawal symptoms was learning to live without the hope that she would pass by, physically or electronically. It must have been the result of the day before, for there it was. News.

"Do you know she's back in town? Had been [d|w]ining at Kings and who should I see checking in?". So read a message from a school friend. One of their school friends.

It was 9:30 am. In an hour was the bus that took him and fellow drones into the comb. To buzz with bees from a different comb. A bigger, sweeter comb to his queen.

It was easy to see why he was back home in within the next quarter of an hour, furiously clicking through to look for the Kings number. It took him the better part of the next hour to muster up the courage to dial. (Why? Who wouldn't have the guts to call? Especially when half the waking world was calling up each other to discuss yesterday's news? What will we do? Can it be true? What rot, I say! And here he couldn't whisper "Free? I'm coming over".)

Perhaps it was all that cowardly delay, for in response to his "... do you know which room she's in? Then may I please be connected to 6-1-1?", all he got was "I'm sorry sir, she's out at the moment." Crappy diem was all that he could muster today. 6 plus one plus one was eight. Never was his lucky number. He spent another hour rooting out the psychic nuances in the number system applicable to the situation.

Six hours later, he was rolled up in a lounge chair at Kings. He had figured it would be the best place to lay in wait - even if it smacked of desperation. He no longer needed to work at the protective sang froid. It had been quite a while since he realised that he'd not given a moment's thought to work. It never occured to him again in the rest of the day.

Lord Krishna lived for some hundred years. So informs us the Mahabharata. Methuselah put in more years of work than most people put in 5 reincarnations. Just because we live much lesser than them doesn't mean that those were merely myths of someone's fervid imagination. Perhaps we did live that long once. Maybe our genes had just lost the ability along the way. Not that implausible today. Perhaps Nature in her infinite common-sense had finally figured out that the best way to rein in our parasitic tendencies was to turn the screws on the longevity dials. id est, stop trusting Ebolas and Falciparums to do the job. Only she got beaten to the post.

He hadn't seen her return, finding that out at 8:30 pm when he asked the reception. Not bothering to call up or to smoothen any strand of his dishevelled head, he found himself tapping her door and walking in, in response to her call.

She didn't seem to be too surprised, just a touch of amusement. She opened her mouth in preparation to speak, when he interjected:

"I don't care who you're seeing, if you're married, if you don't plan on staying, if you don't fancy me, if you'd like us to be friends, if you have other ideas. I don't, we don't, have a lot of time. All I'd like to do is to be with you. As long as I can."

A beat. She spoke. "I don't like what you've done to your hair. It will have to wait till tomorrow though".

Nature was beaten, finally, by our inbuilt promise of self-destruction that kicked in eventually. Pity that the Einsteins and Vernes and Clarkes in all their clever scenarios of the future never thought of a future-less present. When your present isn't big enough, what good is your future? So when we launched gene-mutating chemicals insidiously into each other's water and air (the two entities that don't respect any geographical boundaries) and ended up reducing the average human lifespan to a petite 35 years, what do you expect people to do? Beat chests and complain? Do you think we have the time? It took us 20 years since the end of the Third big war to explain the symptoms and since then we've been scrambling to live, not merely saving it up for a post-retirement time table.

Today all geniuses remain merely precocious. Teenage sports sensations don't have to look to a future of anonymity. The vast majority of us continue to remain in the shadows. Like the poet said, "Obscurity has its tale to tell. Like the figure on the studio-bed in the corner, out of range, smoking, watching and waiting". Only we aren't waiting any more.

I just don't have the strength to "research" the effects of all this on human civilisation for your benefit. I only have about a thousand sunsets left in the account, and I'd rather be counting them than talking to you.

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[Note]

This was written a couple of years ago as part of a constrained writing exercise. I *did not* enjoy writing this, or even righting all that went awry! I I don't know how it has turned out, I was too exhausted to have an opinion. Soon after beginning this exercise, the only goal, like the Marathon Man's, was to finish (hopefully with all my teeth intact ;-), which I have. Thanks to George and Sud for the chance - pity we stopped.

The Nifty Nineties

They're to blame. They kept saying: why doesn't Sachin Tendulkar bat as he used to, a decade ago, when he used to blast the opposition out with a rocket pack and gelignite. In short, why doesn't he bat like he used to in the nineties.

Well, now you got it: all he can do is stay in the nineties.

Pleas to Dravid

Pleas to Dravid

The ongoing NatWest series proves that one of the ingredients needed for a great series is a pair of teams that can make some embarrassing tactical mistakes mixed with sublime skills. Of those in world cricket, the ones with an impeccable record in this area are West Indies, India, Pakistan, and England.

For two games in a row, Rahul Dravid has persisted with bringing Gautam Gambhir on at #3. On both occasions, the serious lad has tried his best to uproot the rails of the train, but just failed, having to pick it up when he sees the whites of the headlights. This when Dravid himself has had great success up the order earlier in the series, with his efforts in Bristol rivalling his first great supreme batting hit in Taunton in 1999, where he began his innings as if he was in the middle of a net with schoolboys.

Tendulkar and Ganguly, for all their brilliance, have continued to serve up at least one cock-up per match. If Ganguly had come out in time to run for SRT instead of surveying the sunset in the company of the English 12th man on the boundary waiting for a thigh pad, Tendulkar might have saved his wicket and more importantly, India wouldn't have wasted 12 balls (crucial as it turned out) looking for a run. At the other end, Gambhir was as explosive as a wooden-legged geriatric fly caught in a Fevicol-spewing spider's web. Tendulkar himself should have just gone off if he couldn't stand up without the assistance of a bat. Strange things keep happening.

It's fun to watch, though.

And previously

And previously

The world has changed since we last met. The Tendulkar blade has left the Englishman without a paddle up the creek. "Sivaji" has truly crossed over - to North India. And I have officially finished my 'parole'.

Yes, I've left the ranks of the blissfully unemployed to join the worried brows of Form-16ers. What I miss most about my previous life was the free (well, heavily subsidised) internet facilities. Now I have to pay for it.

But as I have realised in the last 3 weeks, it's well worth paying for. So having shelled out the Rs., here we are, back again.

Some more cine fragments

Some more cine fragments

Not so new
B.R.Films is releasing a colour version of Naya Daur. I remain very pessimistic about its chances: the film is not in the league of Mughal-e-Azam and its theme, socially relevant as it may have been, is hardly one to catch the imagination of viewers at present. The addition of colour also doesn't seem to have any special significance to this particular film.

Having watched theatrical re-releases of both Mughal-e-Azam and Sholay (with great enjoyment), I can't think of any others that I'd like to see re-released that aren't available for rent or on TV. Perhaps films like Pyaasa or Nayagan. What do Hollywood productions re-feature? Movies with special effects or new "Director's Cuts". These don't seem to apply to us much.

Perhaps...
Speaking of Guru Dutt, I came across an interesting piece for the trivia notebook. Apparently, the Spanish hit Quizas, Quizas, Quizas could have inspired the classic Babuji dhiire chalanaa from Aar Paar (music: O.P.Nayyar). Some of us who've watche the British sitcom Coupling would have heard its title track Perhaps... which is an English version of the original. I must say that the mukha.Daa does bear a slight resemblance, but it is not an outright lift. Quite a nice touch. Of course, the Hindi song was re-worked (quite respectfully) by Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy in Salaam-e-Ishq.

On the horizon
Vishal Bhardwaj's The Blue Umbrella is once again scheduled for release - a print ad to this effect appeared this week. The release has been long overdue and I have been waiting for it a long while. The low-key nature of promotion (no TV spots) suggests the film will not see a long run unless it enjoys "Bheja Fry"-like attention, so catch it soon if you're a Vishal/Pankak Kapur/Ruskin Bond fan. The good news is that the soundtrack was also advertised as being available, so must go out and get it.

Chuck it
Chak De India! is probably the worst film title (despite the competition) of the year, made worse by the irritating title track playing ever so often with Star Cricket's coverage (damn cross-promotions). Ab Tak Chappan's Shimit Amin wields the megaphone for this Yash Raj venture, which could suggest a Faustian supper.

From a few million fragments of input

Signal to Noise ratio
The market for TV music talent shows seems to be at an all-time high. We follow channels in five different languages and all of them have at least one (the average is about 2 per channel family). The problem is that most shows have little in terms of differentiation. The participants can be really good or really poor at times, but most of the anchors are uniformly obnoxious. The fad has done wonders for the musicians job market, both as orchestra players and as one-off judges.

The most interesting ones I've seen are: the Marathi programme on Zee Chauviis Taas (anchored by Pallavi Joshi) which has the participants sing in different song styles and thus avoid the rut of mere film music; Jaya TV's offering anchored by the legendary S.P.Balasubramaniam which provides excellent criticisms; some of the Malayali versions because they don't remain parochial: they sing Tamil and Hindi film songs as well.

"Shut upp, Shut upp, Shut upp o' tum"
What is Ram Gopal Varma's next release? It seems the nomenclaturally-challenged "Ram Gopal Varma ki Aag" (which almost begs the question: "ENO try kiyaa?") is accompanied by a film called"Darling". Promotionals contain a sub-title (a first for RGV?), a pair of casting cringes and of course Catbert crooning away. So much so that it looks like T-Series is extracting some anonymous pound of flesh.

Cricket Sounds and Lights
If I was Zaheer Khan, I'd import some jelly beans and serve them in my Pune restaurant instead of after-dinner mints. Martin Johnson, in typical Anglo-wit, opines the day would have been different had it been Mike Gatting at the crease ("Gatt would simply have picked it up and eaten it.")

My mother was asking me why cricketers wear those wraparound shades - doesn't it interfere with their sighting of the ball? Just like in the case of the Black-Eyed (C) Pea,it turns out that technology has the answer.

Blasts and verdicts
Have we ever had three big terrorism verdicts in one week? Don't think so.

The predictable ODing of news channels on the Sanjay Dutt result made me wish for a full time (and real-time) pseudo-news channel a la Jon Stewart's Daily Reports. A channel that said: those of you who've come here to wade in Sanjay-speculation, have you nothing better to do? Just wait for half an hour and we'll know. What's the point in idly conjecturing every possibility when the remaining 99 theories will go bust in the next 30 minutes? Till then, here, this is what Dr. Haneef is having for lunch.

I quite lost it when the Dr. Haneef coverage went into the kitchen: his wife was asked what was waiting for him on the lunch table ("Biryani"). Returning back to the real world, I have completely failed to understand the immense significance of this one case in terms of the amount of coverage in the press. That he has been treated so sympathetically in the local media is interesting to study.

One case that I personally find very intriguing is that of Yakub Memon. I know very little about details of the extent of his involvement in the Bombay blasts case, apart from what I read in the book by S. Hussain Zaidi and the resulting film, and newspaper reports. Consider this: this man, who sat in safety and knew his brother was the mastermind behind the whole carnage, comes back, is arrested amidst very contradictory factual claims, protests his innocence vehemently, and ultimately sentenced to death. This single instance interests me much more than any of the other results. But I find no one discussing this man's fate.

tim tim taare; log bechaare
Those happiness indices always have Bhutan at the top of the heap. I have a strong feeling that Bhutan has no daily soaps. Can you tell something about a culture from the soaps their citizens watch? Fundamentally, soaps thrive on unhappiness afflicting the nice guys, so if that is your sample, then the Bhutanese win each time.

Danse Macabre
Parachute, the hair oil brand, has a new product out which has the word "advansed" in its website URL. It doesn't even seem to be an American word. There's no defen{c/s}e against such cpelling.

Wisdom of grey hairs
The biggest argument against materialism: packing.

Next BC Open Quiz

The Boat Club Quiz Club, Pune is organising two quizzes on Sunday, July 1, 2007. The morning quiz is for schools, while the afternoon quiz is open to all. Entry is free. Both are general quizzes. All the details are available at this link.

Periya pepper-o-nii?

This is a true story.

I am sitting at home when the phone (yes, the honeycomb phone) rings deep somewhere. Never a good sign.

After a hunt decidedly not as cool (am I turning into "Sivaji"?) as Brad Pitt in Seven - but then I haven't had my head broken by (let's keep this spacee blank, shall we? wink wink), I locate the buzzing instrument. The questioning greeting that is the modern "Hello?" emerges.

"Is this J. Ramanand?". Yes, it is. Pray proceed.

"I'd like to order a pizza please".

I think I was entitled to the short-to-medium pause that followed.

"Ok, now, this is a prank, isn't it?"

A pause, matching the earlier one in its intensity.

This is 9xxxx xxxxx, is it not? And J. Ramanand?. Yes indeed. Go on, tell us your story.

I found this number. From Google. Is this not Domino's Pizza?

I am busy leafing through my list of known habitual jokesters, and none of them. Only nervous laughter wins. "No, someone's played a prank on one of us" (is that the best you can do? Scratch "courage under pressure" off the resumé.).

I'm very sorry, came an apologetic tone.

I think and I think and I think who could have pulled this one off. And then I smash the palm against the head. Scratching the chin with Occam's Razor helped. Look at this as a sample. That site is full of such stuff.

P.S.: I did try several combinations of keywords and some of them did put the site(s) in the top 20 results. But how dumb would you have to be to call any random number on a page of search results?

Silk and Steel

David Gower, a distinguished member of that almost-golden generation of English cricket which provided us with some of the most newsworthy and whiskers-championing players in a long time, writes in fond tribute to Sir Ian.

In style and temperament, the easygoing Gower was the rambunctious Botham's polar opposite, except perhaps in cocking a snook at the establishment. They also remain among the top choices for voices you'd like to hear in commentary during a Test match: perhaps we should have an English ex-player commentary-coach for those who haunt us from the heights of the box in India.

Show and Tell

Show and Tell

1. The History Channel promotes a programme called "History of Rock" using a very clever version of Stairway To Heaven arranged as a Hindu devotional. Very nice. (Couldn't find online.)

2. The Heartthrob of Human Resources has an animated promotional for the upcoming filmic-ode-to-Jumaniijii featuring himself. It's quite hilarious to watch, what with "HR 2" over-compensating for the original's moroseness in the smiles-department.

3. Read the comments on this page about CV-inflation confessions. Very funny.

Sivaji for President?

I haven't followed the news since last evening, so in the morning, I look at my complimentary copy of Mid-Day. The front page has a feature on how Rajnikant used treatments to go "fair" for a song. I almost miss what is for me the biggest news of the day: Pratibha Patil's surpising entry into the Presidential race. But then imbalance is restored with a story about Rakhi Sawant, alleged Rajnikant fan.

The "news" channels are predictably tripping over themselves to cover the big buzz of the day. There are correspondents in multiplexes as far as Gurgaon. Improbably though, the NDTV man covering the representative Chennai multiplex is called Thapar Thapa (which is like sending someone called Chokkalingam to cover the ritual sacrifices of the tribes of Papua New Guinea). Clearly not a local, he calls the movie "The Sivaji" and says the number of prints clearly shows the "magnanimity" of the scale of distribution. Sigh.

The problem here is that none of these Ground Hero reports tells us anything useful. Now, I am as curious as some half a billion others to know how the film has turned out, but this coverage is as illuminating as a few simians typing away at word-processors in Wingdings. The only salvage of the morning: a snap interview of Rajnikant at the airport, declining to be compared to Amitabh B ("he's the Emperor, I'm the King, if at all I am one") - remember that an Amitabh film is also releasing today - and refusing to get into the "when politics" question, which was summarised by the piece-to-camera as "Rajnikant talking about his political ambitions" or some such.

In the midst of all this, I desperately want to know more about the lady most likely to be the first woman President of India (take that USA and France! ;-)). But no. I guess we get the news we deserve, or at any rate, we get the news someone thinks we deserve. Is it possible for a channel to take a deep breath and say, right, all this hoopla is fine, so give the Tamil flick a 5 min report, but let's get back to more important things, shall we? Or perhaps, those of us unpaid unemployed who sit in front of the TV on a Friday morning are indeed interested overwhelmingly in movies and not politics. Stick the Prez in the evening, the real men and women will be back by then.

Finally, the Shiv Sena gets the last word. When contacted on their stance on recent developments regarding Marathi pride, a spokesperson said: "We fully support it. This is a matter of the pratibhaa of the maraaThii maaNus.". He said that Shiv Sainiks have been told to go out there and fill the multiplexes and chant Jai Shivaji each time Rao-saheb twirls a ciggy (just menthol, don't worry Mr. Ramadoss). On Pratibha Patil however he simply said: "kaay?".

Ok, I did make that up. But it's getting harder to tell.

WoodEd poetry

An exercise in blanket-verse; can be set to tune as required.

Don't be inadequate anymore

Daily news
Try and see if you like it
Help is on the way
Still upset?
Tell me more
yanyone
[Chorus: Don't be inadequate anymore...]

Timing, perfect
You asked for it
Remember to tell me later
Share this with them all
Hope she is the one!
Finally found this here
[Chorus: Don't be inadequate anymore...]

Can you imagine you are healthy? :-)
Thank you again!
He simply looked bored :-(
Hey buddy!
Everything kool?
Morning... :-(
[Chorus: Don't be inadequate anymore...]

If you'd like to know more about how this poem was created:

Okay, I write bad poetry, but don't blame the above on me. I just went through about 50 emails in my Spam folder, and picked out 18 subject lines from them. I didn't even mess around with the ordering or spelling - honest. All I did was break it up, and add some punctuation. This is one-pass poetry at its finest - it's wonderful how coherent it all is. Works great as a pastime. Give it a shot.

Other relevant bits from my 'collection'.

The pressures of being a 'S(h)ivaji'

The pressures of being a 'S(h)ivaji'

Many movie-watchers, especially outside Tamil Nadu, sneeringly say that no Rajnikanth movie ever really flops - the fans make sure of that. To an extent this is true - the "initials" are so immense that even Yash Raj may permit their golden jaws to unclench in awe for a moment. However, what we don't realise is the colossal pressure that the crew of a Rajnikanth movie must be under.

Perhaps the closest sense-making analogy is of the legendary pressure in Pascals that Sachin Tendulkar was said to have played under in the previous decade. The men behind the next Superstar movie have to first match and then exceed expectations. The poor performance of Baba threw a hurricane of flak down the doorstep of even the likes of A.R.Rahman; what's more, a dent in Rajnikanth's own powers had been made - it was felt his personal leanings towards spiritual subjects have unnecessary interfered with the image that his fans claim as their own.

But now that is all gatam, gatam. With Chandramukhi having set the stalls afire, all doubts were vanquished. Tomorrow, the collective efforts of Shankar, AVM, A.R.Rahman, a host of lyricists, actors, and finally the man himself in his 100th Tamil film, will be on display for a teething mass of salivating addicts. So let us remember the little things that they've got to improve upon, the Rajni records and trivia: the new Rajni moves, the "punch dialogues", the intro-song, the beats, the comic timing, the moments when gravity is sent on a paid vacation, the hairdos. This is a tough act to follow.

And if you haven't seen the killer move at the end of this trailer, you can click here, sit back and enjoy the fun.

You and quizzing

Do you like going to quizzes but are diffident about participating because you don't know how well you'd do? Do you think you'd like to quiz, but are not sure what to expect? Did you try quizzing but had a boring time at all the quizzes you went to? If so, we'd like your feedback here (it is a somewhat long post).

The RecoGraph

I am a compulsive list-maker (of movies I've seen, books I've read, people I've known at certain places). In recent times, I've graduated to collecting more and more data about myself. Of particular interest right now is recording how I am led to books, music, or films based on the recommendations of others (however, still in the realm of dream-ware)

Some recommendations turn out to be more precious than others, lending greater worth to the recommender. Recommenders can be people one knows, newspaper columns and TV programmes, blogs etc. A graph of recommended elements and people who pointed to them could be built. I don't know if anything useful will come out of this, but it just sounds like something interesting to know.

While on the subject, I wonder if secretly, I want to become like Gordon Bell. The data collection is the most painful bit.

Feeling high

You arrive in front of the lift. There is no one else nearby. By application of the little brain bestowed upon you in a rare combination of natural benevolence and your ancestral genes, you infer that to proceed to a floor above, you need to summon the elevator by pressing a simple button. It glows in acquiescence.

But very soon, your solitude is rendered null and void. You are in the midst of "someone". "Someone" pauses, and then proceeds to jab the shining lift's button. If they didn't have their back to you, they'd have noticed your face was replaced by a question mark.

If you were so inclined, you would wonder: how insignificant you are, that this person took one miniscule look at you, and in that fading moment, decided that no mechanical pulley-system was going to obey your microbial commands, and that it would be best for all of you that they showed the elevator who was boss.

But no, you wouldn't think like that. You are too 'normal' for that.

Red Faces and Acquisitions

Interesting developments in cricket today. First, Graham Ford does the smart thing and turns down the India coaching job. Smart, given his current job profile and that his employers love him so much, his family condition, and the lurking turmoil under the sheets in India. So does this mean John Emburey becomes coach by default - a real twist for those (read Sunil Gavaskar and co.) who apparently didn't want the job to fall to Ford uncontested. Do they swallow pride and confess that Emburey was hardly the best man for the job, given his pretty poor coaching record, and this was just a political move; or do they continue living in dreamland? Perhaps it'll be an Indian coach after all - what fun!

In equally interesting news, ESPN acquires Cricinfo. Have to wait and watch to see how this affects the site. For one, most of the images are owned by Getty Images. Will that change when they move to ESPN? Perhaps the images will be sold along with the property.

Oh, and Chanderpaul continues to script another twist in the infuriatingly unpredictable story that is West Indies cricket.

Victoria no. 203 - a singleton object?

Victoria no. 203 - a singleton object?

Strolling past many Victorias yesterday, I noticed something that made my trivia-overdosed heart beat rapidly: a Victoria with the number 203. What the...!

When scepticism returned to her little seat in the cranium, I wondered: are there many such Victorias exploiting the number? (and we haven't yet hit the remake). Or did I see the only Victoria no. 203 doing the rounds? Can someone switch the lights on this matter?

I need protection. Jai Maharashtra.

I need protection. Jai Maharashtra.

A*bhi*jit* Pha*nse of the BVS, after an evening out gently informing Internet cafe owners in Bombay reveals that:

... his group was developing a special software that Internet service providers could install to block any message containing certain words and phrases such as "I hate" or "I despise".

Yikes! I'm the owner of a "hate" community too, which is called I Hate Orkut Scraps, which the kind people behind the social networking site have kindly allowed to co-exist with other similarly silly communities owned by other fellow loonies (a quick search reveals over 1000 results for "I hate something" communities). I think my face has an inevitable date with a new kind of beauty regimen consisting of tar and paint.

This kind, anthrophilic face of the Shiv Sena is a revelation. Their crusade to eliminate hate and derision brings tears to my eyes. Eternal Happiness of the Mindless Mind.

Also says the Panda.

Of affairs past

As I never tire of saying, I belong to the TV generation. The TV was my centre of gravity, its centripetal force always sucking me back and suckling my focus. As I heard someone say, if there was a fire, I would first go looking for the TV. If you've seen Raghu "Romeo" protect his set from the rains, you'll know what I mean.

However, some TV serials are best left locked in the nostalgia chest. Releasing them into the open can lead to immense dismay. Especially, when old DD favourites are making their way back. We get teary-eyed at the thought of them, but sometimes when we watch them, the nose crinkles automatically.

Happily, this fate escapes Yeh Jo Hai Zindagi: playing on Star Plus these days, the sitcom that probably was the first to introduce canned laughter to our screens still retains its charm. This Kundan Shah and co. series had some excellent actors like Shafi Inamdar, Swaroop Sampat, Rakesh Bedi, and Vijay Kashyap, not to forget the clever hook of Satish Shah playing a new role in every episode. I don't know how the old Karamchand would have stood up to post-modern scrutiny, but the new visitations of the carrot-chomping sleuth are quite ghastly.

The early days of Star Plus showed us a lot of classic sitcom fare from the US and Britain. The Yes Minister series is airing on The History channel these days, while The Wonder Years and Doogie Howser M.D. appear on Zee Cafe.

While on the subject, read George's evocative post on catching reruns of The Wonder Years on telly.

A list of DD serials from the 80s (link via Salil)

Learning to think like a computer scientist

A recent Language Log post talks about studies that attempt to understand how members of a profession learn to think in ways that helps them effectively practise their work. The focus was of course on the use of language (examples of studies in Law and Medicine are given) in reasoning in the field.

Which books would be the counterparts in computer science? I remember reading a book called Programmers at Work by Susan Lammers (reviewed here), which featured interviews with 19 leading programmers. It was a fairly engaging read, if I can trust my memory. Programming Pearls is a popular classic, where author Jon Bentley patiently explains the process of analysis a problem and deducing a solution, however magical it may first seem.

A broad and useful log of books beyond programming is available at this Computer Science Reading List maintained by John Regehr (link via Tejaswi).

Triple Duet Tuesdae - 2nd serving

Tejaswi pointed out that the computer scientist Udi Manber could be the missing triplet in our Quentin Fedex mash-up. Take a look:

Also: Daemon puts a few faces together.

Indian Jans and the Saving of the Taj

Indian Jans and the Saving of the Taj

Apparently, I'm one of the few million reasons why the Taj Mahal is not going to be one of the New Seven Wonders of the World. The Times of India puts it as follows: "the Taj is slowly slipping out of the reckoning because Indians couldn’t be bothered enough to vote". That's right, blame it on web-connected lazy-arses like me.

The campaign to "unite for the Taj" has made the news in the last couple of weeks, A.R.Rahman has composed a ditty to boost publicity of the event, email campaigns are going out, and inevitably some landed in my inbox. So do I care whether the Shah Jahan paean to romance has a podium finish? - nope, I don't.

How does it matter? The Taj Mahal is easily one of the most visited monuments in the world, and lack of inclusion on some list is hardly going to affect its status as a must-visit. BTW, the compilation of the list has taken 7 years - why should something as simple as such a list take so long and be subject to mass voting? Perhaps they could merely take the average tourist figures for each monument and rank.

Judging by the fact that only 1 out of the previous 7 wonders is still standing, it's probably for the best that the Taj stays out - there's no good coming out one being on a jinxed list as that. The worst ramification of the new 7 Wonders announcement could be a DVD re-release of "Jeans", with Prashant and Mrs. Baby B, showing us around the latest winners. BTW, this is a serious indictment of Indian IT skills: what happened to those scripts that last put us in this Top Ten?

More seriously, the facts that the Taj is rapidly yellowing, industries continue to pollute the Yamuna at the back, and that Mayawati might not be implicated in the Taj corridor case should be doing the rounds. Here, I confess to my guilt: I am one of the many million reasons why the Taj could be slowly slipping out of existence because Indians couldn't be bothered to do anything about it.

P.S.: Why hasn't someone asked us to vote for the Taj so that at least one remnant from the glories of the Hindu past makes it to the top-7?
P.P.S.: A different list at the World Monuments Fund

Now an IT finishing school

NASSCOM chief Kiran Karnik inaugurated an IT finishing school (apparently, the second such in the country) in Bangalore recently. It's not very clear to me what such a school is meant to teach and polish, but it does underline two things: one, the grave situation involving hordes of students seeing IT-stars and a critical lack of good teaching, and two, the increasing uneasiness of IT corporates as to the hiring options before them. If one needs a finishing school to be employable after 4 years of education, then something is wrong, and a waste of resources is happening.

We also continue to be caught in this language-centric rut, which is potentially myopic - we don't seem to encourage our IT workers to be good enough also at the abstract skills; rather, it seems preferable to focus on the immediate needs of churning out code. True, this makes sense if you want to get your product out there as soon as you can help it, but will it necessarily help in the long-run? I fear not. But sadly, we are unable to properly instruct our students even at these language skills.

French finale stays on course

Canas is gone, and we breath a sigh of relief. The only man to have taken out Federer twice this year was vanquished by Davydenko, who has never won a match against the Swiss number one. Please let it stay that way.

The other semi-final, between Nadal and Djokovic, could be a thriller if Djokovic steps up. He's been catching the eyes in the last six months and has been rated to go very high. Stirring stuff is expected.

Morbid Prediction

If you have a product called "Tulsi Dyes", your website may get a lot of hits via search engines this week. Why, you ask?

So then, what's partly common to Dr. Drake Remore and T.V.? (you just realised Tulsi Virani is literally TV, didn't you? Subliminal stuff.)

Pseudo-Random Leaps of Fright

Pseudo-Random Leaps of Fright

I am:
- always sitting in front of something (I don't like this)
- burning up revisiting the same old
- not getting better
- improving
- not making sense
- pretending to be profound
- sometimes a mere hollow mask
- unable to explain why
- waiting for the bulb to glow
- always looking away
- waiting to be spoken to

They are:
- not here
- better than me
- not as good as me, but they don't care, unlike me
- not frenziedly making lists
- terrible to know
- not thinking of me, even momentarily
- so many
- surprisingly nice to me
- so good at the things I wish I could do
- growing up
- temporarily unavailable

What is wrong with Ram Gopal Varma?

From a Rediff interview featuring Manoj Bajpai:

What do you have to say about your soured relationship with Ram Gopal Varma?
It was very little good and lots bad. And I would not want to say anything more than this.

Three of Manoj Bajpai's best performances came under the RGV aegis, so it is a huge pity that the two no longer work together. Bajpai has seldom since hit the heights that he should have. Reports of other RGV regulars also parting ways has therefore begged the question: why does Ram Gopal Varma end up feuding with Factory talent?

This is assuming the tough-talking director is indeed responsible, but given the numbers involved, he must be doing something wrong. The result is that the output of the once-prolific production house is not only low, but also weak. Varma's own movies have not been anywhere near the glories of the past, and survive on mere formula: intrusive BGMs, lopsided camera angles and jump cuts.

It seems like Varma hasn't quite managed to get away with treating actors like cattle - a meat-packing Factory this is not.

Notable Names - 2: The end of the story

Notable Names - 2: The end of the story

Another Indian sportsman with an interesting name: this time, it's the Indian footballer (and occasional captain) Climax Lawrence.

(Obtained from this article)

A question of bad taste

A question of bad taste

Identify this film and its director. George, Vibhendu, and Harish are banned from participating. There are, as we say in our dirty trade, clues to make it "workable". If you use a search engine, I will send nameless horrors to visit upon you.

Crew la de vil
This film features as its lead actors, Sanjeev Kumar, Sunil Dutt, and Shatrughan Sinha. "Above all" is Jeetendra. This film probably holds the Frams book of dubious awards for the most number of "special appearances" such as Premnath, Vinod Mehra, Neetu Singh, Bindiya Goswami, Reena Roy, Rekha, and Sarika. The film also boasts of an equally large number of "guest appearances", such as Aruna Irani, Jagdeep, Paintal, and Jayashree T. The difference between "special" and "guest" appearances is that the ones under the former appear almost throughout the film, while most of the latter come every 30 minutes.

There are also a bunch of villains, including a special guest (my words) appearance by Amrish Puri. Shatrughan Sinha also has a singing credit in this film. The late Bunny Reuben is credited as "Bunny Robin".

De-sigh-n
The film suffers from a massive Sholay-aspirational hangover. Sanjeev Kumar plays a grim and tortured Thakur, the leading men attempt to wear curry western outfits from the House of Chambal, the hilly locales are airlifted and airbrushed from Ramnagaram, the local village is (allegedly) tormented by mostly absent bandits. Rekha is trying to do an Amitabh-in-Awadh impression, and the dress designers decamped with most of the clothes except a 'laal-joDaa-wedding-ka', leaving all the gals exposed. Sunil Dutt needs anatomy lessons as he is unable to deduce the gender of a moustachio-ed Reena Roy from point-blank range. Madan Puri lands the A.K.Hangal slot, but with a twist - he is only pretending to be a blind man.

Plotter's wheel reinvented
The plot is very simple, but only deceptively so. A black hairy monster starts to wipe the earth clean of brand new brides attired in red, and possesses the parasitic gift of taking rent-free residence in males passing by. After scenes involving Amrish Puri and set in a train compartment the size of a football field, the action moves to the afore-mentioned village. Sunil Dutt and Shatru are the local alpha males, also involved in what seems to be a love tetrahedron. This is an excellent excuse to go off traipsing around trees and waterfalls in real, imaginary, and complex song sequences.

The plot thus alternates between the following 3.5 threads:
1. wedding happens - bride goes missing at nearby temple (which, despite its increasingly gory reputation, never ceases to be a centre of tourism)
2. Shatru and Sunil clash, usually in the town centre, and eye and get eyed amorously by 3 other ladies.
3. Meanwhile, at an altitude above all of them, Jeetu and Neetu perform Pilates in polyester in full view of her approving brother Dutt-saab. Cut to even more song sequences.
3.5. A comedy relief thread featuring Jagdeep, Paintal and Jayashree T., which is as frequent as Halley's Comet, which is a relief in itself.

Lost clue
I was watching this on Zee Cinema, but it took so long that the horror angle got swamped by the rest. I couldn't complete it, so I don't know how it ends. The fact that it must have ended makes it a happy ending.

There you go. Answers in comments if you're fool/brave-hardy.

'Aap ka suroor' - the moviee: the real luv story - the fake prevu'

'Aap ka suroor' - the moviee: the real luv story - the fake prevu'

* My day was made when I saw the trailers showing auto-rickshaws stomping mean cars on German streets. Did I forsee this mix of German stolidity and Indian kitsch?

* I am predicting a mad rush for bulk bookings by Human Resource departments in various companies.

* The female lead of the movie is one of those actresses who begin as irritating child artistes but are in a blazing hurry to grow up to be a real bad performer. Bollywood, after all, is the natural habitat of such a species. With her coming, a few more As and Ks get added to the alphabet soup of the world.

Gavaskar's conflicts of interests

Writer and academic Mukul Kesavan, appearing on an NDTV show last week, touched briefly on an important point during the discussion (which was predictably about the selection next Indian cricket team coach). Commenting upon Sunil Gavaskar's alleged dig at Dav Whatmore (refuted today), he asked whether Gavaskar did not recognise a conflict of interests given the various hats he wears: as media-man and as member of the committee to pick the next coach.

This is very true. I find some of Gavaskar's snide comments conflict with his involvement at different levels, as part of these ad-hoc BCCI committees and as part of the ICC Cricket Committee that comes up with more bowler-unfriendly suggestions. How much are the members of the last coach-hunting committee (almost identical to the current one) to blame for the Chappell hiring (given Chappell's not-so great previous coaching resumé), and what lessons have been learnt from that? We'll never know, thanks to the silly BCCI system of honoraria-based short-term tribal elders approach.

For those like Bishen Bedi who muddle the issue of an Indian coach versus someone from outside, consider this: the job, ideally, ought to go to the best candidate available. The best candidate, in turn, should have a track-record reflecting his merit, such as successfully coaching a state side or having shown acumen in an academy job. Compare recent international appointments such as Peter Moore or Tim Nielsen to a Mohinder Amarnath. There aren't any Indian coaches of repute at the moment, as very few of the former players have plunged into coaching with the ambition of making it a full-time profession. Venkatesh Prasad and Robin Singh are two exceptions to this, which is why their appointment to the Indian team was welcomed. The Bangladesh series wasn't the best in the bowling or fielding departments yet, but here hopefully are two men who have what it takes to improve.

Very soon, we shall know who the next coach is, but it will take a good man to wipe away the dullness that has accumulated on the gilt of the Wright era.

Triple Cleanly Scrubbed Wednesdae

The man behind - literally - Gollum and King Kong, the baby-faced assassin, and the greatest wicketkeeper-batsman of all time - the resemblances are as clean as a whistle.

Previous daes: Triple Schezwan Sundae, Veg Triple Mondae, Triple Duet Tuesdae

The distant gardener

Further proof that our courts don't know anything, do they? A court has ruled that Amitabh Bachchan is not a farmer. Yeah right. Wonder if no one presented evidence to the contrary, consisting of the Bookers Prize (sic) -winning self-portrait Baghban.

That section between the Indigo and the Yellow films please

I don't know what keywords have found their way to this blog, but since yesterday, it seems I have become an information source for films of a certain primary colour, as can be seen in the screenshot below. There was just one yesterday, but today both the Google ads on the right have gone Blue Nile cinematic.

Perhaps this was exactly the shot in the arm my AdSense collection needed?

Update: I reported the ads as being offensive or inappropriate (silly me) and now the ads have changed. We're now carrying "micronutra" ads which, given the right amount of creativity, you can imagine interesting things about.

And finally

It struck me in the morning that in all of the few assorted years I have spent in Bombay, I couldn't remember a single time when May had gone entirely rainless. A few weak drizzles apart, this seemed to be the case this year. Until this night. With about 3 hours to go, it came down happy and strong.

Hopefully, things will only go up from here.

Notable Names - 1: The short and the semi-bouffant

Notable Names - 1: The short and the semi-bouffant

Did you know Tamil Nadu has a cricket player called Napoleon Einstein? I didn't, until I read this. Hope the lad has talent and makes it to the international scene. He could be our answer to Nixon McLean.

He's got bottle

I indulged in an unprecedented act of small-scale but wanton violence yesterday. This involved, unexpectedly for hurler and hurlee, a translation of intent into action. In a sign of the artificial times we live, false gods such as I have been reduced to slinging plastic projectiles across the room when sufficiently agitated. Thor would have snorted at us new-age namby-pambies.

The origins of the episode are unimportant, but remorse followed instantly after the flight of the almost-empty decanter which had made rendezvous with the forehead of Roaming Panda. I was hoping to explain it away using the tagline of his latest tee-shirt, but there were eye-witnesses.

So what has changed in my ecosystem after this attack of unreasonable proportions? Do the denizens of my lab cower in fear at my every step, avoiding eye-contact, and wearing ISI-mark helmets? You can guess the answer.

Mahaquizzer 2007

Mahaquizzer 2007

Yesterday, I won the Pune section of the Mahaquizzer quiz, organised by the KQA. I scored 50 points out of 150. A preliminary set of results is available here. The overall winner hasn't been announced yet - I have a couple of guesses who it might be - we'll find out later this week. There are some really big guns who might have won.

I had a better outing this year compared to last time (41), where I made quite a few bad errors. The contest is written, and solving 150 questions in 90 minutes isn't all that easy. You hardly get to read most of the questions properly more than once, so it's useful if your internal IR engine is well oiled, in addition to its database size. I had a better go this time, my second attempt, managing to read more patiently than before. The setters tend to ask a lot of questions on science, geography, and physical world, which are not topics that I'm great at. Which means you try to maximise every chance you get, making my 3 silly mistakes all the more galling - I could easily have hit 52 or 53. I completely forgot to fill in one answer on the first page assuming I had filled it in. I also wrote the wrong first name of a scientist when I should have left just the surname in. I then completed this list of aargh-moments by contriving to trip myself over the names of a creator-character pair by not paying proper attention to the wording - I cancelled the answer out. There's a dull pain somewhere as residue.

The win would have been better had we also seen the participation of the two best quizzers in these parts in the last couple of years - Kunal S and Shamanth. We saw a total of 28 people participate from Pune, which was slightly disappointing for me. I had hoped we would hit 30-35. A few of the regulars couldn't make it, though. Worse was the turnout from school kids - was hoping there would be a lot more.

Anyway, back to this year's edition. I'm warming up to this contest, mainly for two reasons. One, quizzes by people outside your (sometimes incestuous) circle exposes you to other areas of interest. And secondly, since it's an all-India event, it's a decent way to see where you stand w.r.t. the others in the land. It's quite a tough job putting the quiz together and getting it out to different places, so congratulations to the KQA on this. Once again, many thanks to PSPL for the use of their gorgeous auditorium.

Update: The results are out here - Samanth S winning in style.

'et out of here

'et out of here

In an article about an e-book doing the web forwarding circuit, Indira Rodericks of the Times of India writes: Over the past week the complete text of the final book, Harry Potter and The Deathly Gallows, is being forwarded and eagerly read by Potter fans.. It's strange that at a time when posters of the book's sales are up in every bookstore and verification is just a click away, no one at the newspaper office realised how badly misspelt that title was. That it was not a mere anomaly is deduced by the fact the "tytle" repeats later in the passage. Sadly enough, the print version of the article was accompanied by the cover of the book which clearly says "Hallows".

What's a G over an H, you may ask. The course of frenzied discussions over the meaning and intent of "Hallows" on Potter-manic forums would have been very different, I can tell you. But it's just another excuse to bash toi (to be pronounced the french way). How very hhastly, I'd like to tell 'em

"The (American) Office is good" a.k.a. that's what he said

"The (American) Office is good" a.k.a. that's what he said

I automatically assume that across the pond versions of British TV serials are usually atrocious and not really worth a watch (refer the disastrous Coupling effort). Thankfully, that's not the case with The Office. The American remake of the cult British sitcom is quite good, and much should be attributed to the presence of Gervais and Merchant in proceedings.

In fact, I found the American version to be a tad more accessible. The British one was far more edgier and I would gape at it in sad horror - what horrible lives they (and by reflection, us) lead. Not disbelief, mind you, as I had personally seen a Brent-like character. The similarities were spooky. There was very little redemption or escape for any of those characters, and I didn't laugh out as much. It still was very funny, though. The American version lets you chuckle a lot more, and if I may confess, the actors are a lot more good-looking without sacrificing the crazy realism of the original.

By now, we know what Steve Carell (here as the manager, "Michael Scott") is capable of, and he is backed up by a very good ensemble, a couple of whom are also involved in the writing and production side. So cast aside any trepidations, and have a look, especially if you liked the original one.

Ego-slashing

Ego-slashing

From last week's Jug Suraiya's weekly Sunday Times of India column:

JUGULAR VEIN
All about Giani’s
JUG SURAIYA

The other week Bunny and i were in Kasauli with a group of friends and, naturally, we stopped by...

Notice something funny? Yes, the STOI has in its finite wisdom has downsized the "I". If the first person singular doesn't appear at the beginning of the sentence, then it goes to the lower berth. Weird this. What purpose this serves, I completely fail to understand. Could it be that in its infinite quest for trendy-aspirationism has caused it to cock an unnecessary snook at poor old typography which was sitting in a corner minding it's own business? Or is there a much more mundane explanation such as a stuck Shift Key on a bored type-setters QWERTY?

Having paid scant attention in recent times, I only observed this a couple of weeks ago, again in the columns in the Jug Suraiya neighbourhood (can't call it an op-ed page because it isn't one). Can't locate any announcements to the stylebook, but way back in March, Suraiya wrote a piece in his usual protest-in-jest style, which is the closest I could find to any STOI mention of the change. Similarly, he wrote another elegiac piece; he seems to be getting strife for not toeing the line.

It befuddles me completely.

Titular Magic

Titular Magic

Film titles are usually of the boringly mundane kind. You can't blame them - their makers have a film to sell. The titles have many a burden to carry: they must convey the right impression about the plot (Sholay and Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge), attract attention (do you really expect people to go and see a film called Hazaaro.n Khwaishe.n Aisi when they could see Dhoom?), and be sufficiently functional (Bunty aur Babli and The Burning Train).

Not everyone is inclined to go on a flight of fancy, but sometimes some do. Cheeni Kum raised my eyebrows slightly, but it now seems like a nice title, one with several facets to it. One, it could indicate the age of the male protagonist (a low-sugar-daddy, if you please), or two (which has been indicated as the main reason) a not-so sweet romantic story, or even three, a nod to the supposedly sarcastic ways of the chef in question.

Some Tamil movies have smelt fragrantly of names. Mani Ratnam's Mouna Ragam (literally: 'the silent raag'), Alaipayuthey (evoking both the restless ocean and a famous devotional song), or Kannathil Muthamittal (literally: (if) 'kissed on the cheek'). An Aazhtha Ezhuthu (the Tamil character made of three dots) was lost in translation to Yuva. Similarly, Gautham Menon showed a creative mind in picking the likes of Kaaka Kaaka (literally: "to protect", also a well-known fragment from a religious hymn) and Vettaiyadu Vilayadu (literally: "to hunt and play") for his similarly tuned cop themes.

Several English movies also seem to have boldly chosen names that branch off oddly from the beaten path (yes, yes, the majority still go for a Snakes on a Plane or a Commando). My all time favourites would be Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and American Beauty.

Shaun the Sheep

Shaun the Sheep

Shaun the Sheep is a delightfully clever stop motion animation series, involving Shaun who lives in a little farm owned by a slightly dotty Farmer, where other sheep live too and are minded by a dog who's a benevolent sergeant-figure, complete with whistle and clipboard.

I chanced upon this on Nickelodeon India a couple of weeks ago and happened to see the first episode (involving a cabbage football match with some villainous pigs-next-door trying to nab the vegetable in question). I enjoyed every minute of the episode (there are two episodes per show), which is great because a minute is a very big deal for a short stop-motion project. To give you an idea: if they shoot 2-3 seconds worth of footage, they've had a good day. It's that excruciating and some would even call it masochistic.

Shaun the Sheep comes from Aardman Animations, the same firm that brought us the likes of Chicken Run and the Oscar winning Wallace and Gromit - the Curse of the Were-Rabbit (which is quite terrific). If you're an adult who's not yet deflated and put out to pasture the kid within, you should take a look. You might enjoy it.

I don't remember when the show airs, but I saw it on weekend evenings.

Can we let this pass?

Quizzing-baandhavs, time to get militant. Roll up your sleeves and get the deadly pens and buzzers out - how much more can we take this attack on our religious sensibilities?

I refer, ye extremist pedants, to reports that the #-mi was seen masquerading as a quizzer in his film Good Boy, Bad Boy. The घोर-ness of the पाप is blasphemmatory. Let's proceed to the nearest stage and infinitely rebound him.

I may have escaped the curse-of-23, but now this? I'm looking for gory details on the questions, rounds, and passing strategies employed.

Males born in 1984...

...you are to blame. That's about half my class here, so this calls for some fratricide.

Clayfeet no more

Organisers of the French Open were thrilled to bits yesterday: Roger Federer launched the best possible advertisement for the event for free, by serving up a reminder (I had forgotten) that the Last Baseline begins next week. He did so by winning the Hamburg Open beating Rafael Nadal in the final. This was an event that registered on the Richter scale, not so much because the clash was on clay, but because of an unusual 6-0 drubbing in the final set. As Nadal (gracious as usual in his losing speech) would imply, that was quite something.

The outcome has naturally sent everyone into a tizzy. It didn't seem that way in the first set yesterday, when Federer seemed unable to send a ball into play and seemed Roddick-esque (sorry Andy) against the Rafa serve. The first game of the second turned out to be the decider: Federer hung on grimly, at times appearing to lose it all in a blaze of frustration, and then just about holding serve. From then on, inexplicably, the hamhanded demon of Federer's play and the efficient angel resident in Nadal switched places. Federer went after Nadal's forehand, and the unforced errors for the Spaniard raced past the meister's. Perhaps it has been a long clay-court season already for the younger man.

But remember this was only a 3-set affair, and breaking Nadal over 2 weeks and 5 sets will be the ultimate test for the all-time-greatest-in-waiting. Federer will know that from last year, when he came within a set of doing the improbable. The only worry now is whether the script will hold true. My suggestion: play the tournament but irrespective of whether Nadal or Federer win or lose their preliminaries, put them in the final. Please, oh please. The good thing is that I'm sure neither player would even consider such a rubbish suggestion, preferring instead of slide the hard old-fashioned way.

कुछ और प्रयोग

I don't know if you've noticed, but Blogger now provides a Roman-to-Devanagari transliteration feature. I heard about it a couple of weeks ago, but only turned it on today. It seems to work fairly well so far. The only issue for me is that it applies only to the "Compose" (WYSIWYG) section, and not to the regular html one, which is the one I use. So I have toggle between modes and paste. So I could have used another transliteration offering like quillpad, but this is not too painful either. Considering the initial source of information and the fact that this is only available for Devanagari currently clearly means the Google India people have pushed and scored with this one.

Another recent Blogger addition has been to auto-save drafts. Excellent, because on quite a few occasions, I've lost big posts (let that be a lesson on brevity to me, though) thanks to crashes or power loss. More power to asynchronicity!

P.S. Have spotted my first bug: the transliteration mode is ON, but I'm in the Edit Html mode -> I enter labels for this post: I pick "blog_news", which is transliterated! (that too into "ब्लोग_news"). Yikes.

Annus Blogus -V

(or an excuse for one)

It's been 5 years since this blog was born and since I started blogging. I've done some special annual posts in the past, but not this time, considering the serious lack of motive force and the patina of dust that has accrued - this whisper was appropriate. But hopefully, and soon, we'll be back. Till then, enjoy the silence.

In previous years:
2006 was the embedded image post
2005 was the handwritten post
2004 was the nadsat post
2003 was the boustrophedon post
2002 was the first post