Manneys of Pune - Beating the Retreat

As many Pune readers would know by now, the iconic Pune bookstore "Manneys" is closing down soon (in March 2012). "Manneys" has been an old Pune favourite, partly because of its vintage (about 50 years old) and partly for being one of those bookstores that is tagged as having "rare/arbit/you won't find it at Crossword" books i.e. a snob value that the more discerning book-reader can flaunt. According to Mr. Manik Mani, the owner, he is not shutting the place down because the Joe Foxes have run him out of business, but because it took up valuable time that he'd now rather devote to his family and other pursuits.

I personally had an ambivalent relationship with it. My commercial engagement with books revolves around discovery, (physical) accessibility, and affordability. Both the first and the last have decisively shifted online. I also made heavy use of the 2-3 libraries I subscribed to, and thanks to Landmark's sponsorship of quizzes, I usually had coupons to the store right across the road. Also Manneys was shut on Sundays, the price of being run by an individual who also prized life-outside-work.

The term "old-fashioned" to describe stores like Manneys emits a whiff of both nostalgia and a certain exasperation. The latter because customer service can be limited, extended browsing is difficult, and there were no discounts to grease the palm. However, as alluded to before, Manneys was one of the few places in the city where you could find an interesting book, on History or the Sciences or Philosophy. In fact, that should read as "stumble upon", thanks to the higgledy-piggledy disarray on the racks. But you could find an entire shelf or two of Tagore's works, or books about plays, or about linguistics. Sometimes you found them when they fell out as you put back a book on the other side.

Given this emotional ambivalence and the fact that I've long since deserted the store, I can't be too sentimental at Manneys' departure. However, it had an undeniable 'heritage' value, for as expressed in this post about the changing landscape of Pune's landmarks (where, ironically, I evoke it), Manneys and its ilk were outposts in the otherwise bland 'sameification' of mall culture that has cloaked cities like Pune. I was planning to write up a post about book stores in Pune, and Manneys would have been among the first to be included. There will undoubtedly be a gaping hole in that list.

So I went to Manneys last Saturday for the last time (at least for now) and scooped up a bunch of books. I also noticed the immense goodwill that the store has obviously generated among its many customers, most of whom told Mr. Manik how much they would miss the store. I could not resist joining them to wish him a happy post-Manneys life.

Manneys has a discount sale until the 4th of February, Saturday (unless this has been extended). They still have lots of great books. In Dhammo-style, here are some of the ones I picked up:

1. The Day I Swapped My Dad for Two Goldfish : Neil Gaiman
2. Two "William" books : Richmal Crompton
3. The Mystery of the Stuttering Parrot : Robert Arthur (Three Investigators series)
4. Pale Fire : Vladimir Nabokov
5. Southern Mail/Night Flight : Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
6. Dog Detective Ranjha : Partap Sharma (who recently passed away)
7. The Story of Philosophy : Will Durant

George's post on a "defining bookstore of his life".

Some press articles about the store and its closure:

1. The Economic Times
2. DNA: local reaction
3. Indian Express on when William Golding visited it

Dead Right, Pune

This was saved in my drafts for over two months. I desisted from publishing it because I didn't know if this was a harsh over-reaction to everyday life in Pune. But today, after hearing this incident, I felt compelled to put it out. Yes, this was a unique case, one 'madman' causing damage at such a scale. But what we face each day is, IMO, just the same only at a smaller scale. Caused by us 'sane' people.

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What would you say if I told you I was facing death threats? ("Lucky you" isn't the right answer.) That some persons outside, entirely unknown to me, represent a grave mortal danger to my well-being? Each day? And these numbered not in the ones or the tens, but in the hundreds?

I am not joking.

That's just how it is to go out on the streets these days. I don't think it's an exaggeration. I don't see a difference between sending these people into the city with a bunch of loaded guns with their safety catches off. Though, people with gun licenses are infinitely more responsible than with driving licences.

There are people who are blissfully unaware of most rules of traffic (don't insult the jungle by making a comparison - at least the jungle's rules are followed). There are people who will miss a turn, then reverse half a kilometer to avoid taking the next gap in the divider ahead. There are people who think flashing their lights at vehicles and passers-by automatically empties the road. There are people who will force you into a mistake by honking repeatedly. There are small people in big, ugly vehicles who think driving in a big box enables them to muscle another person off the planet. There are people who will ruin your day for you, for free.

These are people who can maim you. Or kill you. Or someone close to you.

There's nothing very funny about "that's the way we drive". You might not like it if I, like some Middle Eastern despot, shot off rounds randomly at you and said "that's the way we shoot here".

It's sickening to see anyone on foot, especially the elderly, having to scamper for their lives, each time they step out. Insensitively, I guess the problem is that somehow not enough people die in front of us. That the answer lies in mashing up Stalin's quote: one death is a tragedy, a million is a statistic. We need a million personal tragedies.

You may think it's more terrifying to live in Karachi, or Kandahar, or Karbala, where bombs go off each day, where people don't know if they'll make it through the next 24 hours. You might not think of it in these terms, but people who venture out each day don't know which idiot might run into them. A conscious culture of casual and opportunistic lawlessness prevails, where each one nudges the other to skip that signal, break that no-entry, burst through the wrong lane, and see these as the de facto rules. I bet more people die of road accidents in a year than in terrorist attacks. (Anyway, eventually, we don't do much about either.)

You might not have noticed, but it can be terrifying to go out there.

To tell you the truth, when I see people breaking the rules and putting others in danger, I wish something nasty happens to them during that very act. And only to them. I see them as a menace to society (even if society is busy being a menace to itself) and the only way to make the roads safer is to get them out off the way.

This is dangerous thinking. But sometimes, it's me or them.

I'm convinced that the only way to look at this is in black and white. To hammer in the bare-faced social and personal costs of bad driving. Realise this: we are an army of assassins-at-large.

And we'll get you eventually.

The Rahul Dravid of the year

December 31st is the Rahul Dravid of the year - everyone is waiting eagerly for the next guy to come in, about whom everyone is exceptionally hopeful about, irrespective of how great Dec 31st was. (Eventually they'll blame that guy for practically everything in their life that year, instead of realising that the days are different, but they remained the same).

December 31st is always overshadowed by the promise of the next wicket.

(Previous December 31st commiserations. Have a super 2012, but have an even better Dec 31, 2011!)

"Pune's Rosy Winters" - a re-post

The temperature across India has dipped as much as the Government's credibility, and Pune has slipped into trademark balmy-coolness. I wrote this article a couple of years ago for Jet Lite's in-flight magazine (no doubt, the first readers of this piece enjoyed considerably similar but totally artificial weather).

Thought I'd pull it out of the archives, to give you something to do when you're munching on kanda-bhajji and sipping a "speshal". Here it is.

Mood Indigo 2011 - India quiz questions

This December, like last time, I conducted an India quiz as part of the quizzing festival at Mood Indigo at IIT BombayThe questions (from the prelims and the two main rounds in the final) have been uploaded to Slideshare:

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Mood Indigo 2011 - India Quiz - Prelims with Answers

View more presentations from Ramanand J

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Mood Indigo 2011 - India Quiz - Finals

View more presentations from Ramanand J

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If you have a look at these questions and have any feedback, do let me know!

Paperback Raita

Paperback Raita

Dear Sir or Madam, will you tell my cook?
It took me days to ferment, will you take a look?
Based on a lactobacillus named Lear
And I need a job, so I want to be a paperback raita,
Paperback raita.

It's the saucy story of a dahi pan
And his non-fat wife doesn't understand.
His son is working for the Mishti Doi,
It's a steady job but he wants to be a paperback raita,
Paperback raita.

Paperback raita

It's a thousand boondis, give or take a few,
I'll be culturing more in a week or two.
I can make it minty if you like the style,
I can chill it round and I want to be a paperback raita,
Paperback raita.

If you really like it you can have it white,
It could make the menu for you overnight.
If you must return it, you can send it here
But I need a break fast and I want to be a paperback raita,
Paperback raita.

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With apologies to The Beatles, once again.

Previous Beatles apology is here ("All you need is Spam").

RMIM Puraskaar 2011 - Nominations open

Vinay Jain and friends run the annual RMIM Puraskaar, an effort to rate the best Hindi film soundtracks and songs each year. It is 2011's turn, and the process of nominating songs has begun. If you'd like to suggest a few songs, go to this link and put them in.

Links to previous Puraskaar awards can be seen at the bottom of this page. It's a fun exercise and the results are certainly more interesting than commercial awards.

The nomination page will be open till the end of this year.

Legend Before Wicket

If he was a character in the world of Asterix, Shane Warne's pseudonym could be "Climax" (no, not because of what you are thinking, even though this is Shane Warne we're talking about). I refer merely to his uncanny ability to, as they say, write his own scripts. Thanks to Gatting Ball, no one remembers the hiding he got at the hands of the Indians at home. He snatched World Cup glory in 1999, almost single-wristedly. Then came back from a dope scandal in Sri Lanka to take ten wickets, nose ahead of his great rival Murali to the 500 wicket mark, and eventually give Australia the series. Got a Test hat-trick. Made it to 600 wickets. Struck an appropriately purple patch leading a greenhorn side to the maiden IPL crown.

Hollywood, they called him for his blond locks and superstar attitude. Now, you could put it down to his irresistible sense of destiny. The Great Scorer above is in cahoots with the Great Scripter.

The other modern script-God was Brian Lara, what I call Lady Luck's own favourite love-child.

Meet Sachin Tendulkar, Mr. Anti-climax. No Hundred in his 100th Test. World Cup only in his 6th attempt. No Man of the Match in the final! No Chennai-Test-win.

I think what people demand of him and his guardian angels are the fairy-tales. He's done the long-suffering boy-on-the-burning-deck-act. But there's been a distinct lack of gold-dust, that ephemeral moment when destiny collides with opportunity, and bang! an aura that no amounts of botox or naughty-texts can mask.

That the gods would forget to sprinkle some love on the boy-genius seems strange, after the start he had in life: three consecutive first-class hundreds, that massive Shardashram partnership, and a bloody lip in his first Test.

Do you live like the Prince or as the King?

"Half Ticket" - my article on some children's films in India

I have always felt that making films, writing stories, or composing songs for children is harder than many other creative endeavours. Think children's films and the Disney boilerplate animations is what comes to most people's mind, until Pixar tore that notion apart. Unfortunately, the genre of children's films in India has been criminally under-served so far. But a few have stood out.

I wrote an article two years ago on Children's Films in India, and thoroughly enjoyed revisiting some of these films. Today's a good day to point you to that:

1. Previous blog post with a scanned copy of the article (has images): at this link.

2. Plain text version:

"Half-Ticket" - Children's Films in India - Flylite magazine

View more documents from Ramanand J

An archaeology of Pune Landmarks

Human culture evolves in many ways, and is often more apparent than other forms of evolution. Trends in language, for instance, or fashion. This is also true of the culture of a place, and cities like Pune exemplify this evolution.

The Punekar has always been famous for his complaint/lament that "Pune was not like this earlier". Some of it can be blamed on the "Rosy Retrospection" effect, but much of it emerges from drastic (and tangible) change experienced within even a generation. Obvious markers of such changes are evident in population growth, traffic patterns, and the rise in cosmopolitanism. A subtle indication of these can be seen in what are perceived to be landmarks of the city.

Someone asks you where Manney's bookstore is. A decade ago, you'd say: "near West End or Dorabjee's". Today, you might say "opposite SGS Mall". Or you are issuing directions to Aundh. You suggest the driver "take the flyover above University Circle" only to be met with a puzzled stare. "What Circle?". At a school quiz, when trying to mentally place the statue of Rani Laxmibai on J.M. Road (the answer to a question), the nearest landmark that came to a participant's mind was the nearby Pizza Hut, and not Bal Gandharva Rang Mandir or Sambhaji Park.

Only time will tell if the likes of SGS Mall, Pizza Hut, or Wadeshwar on FC Road, will some day evoke the kind of nostalgia as some of the old places. Many of these 'landmarks' are eateries or retail outlets, so it is inevitable that the march of time and economics consumes and produces new winners. What's boring is the sameness of many of these new landmarks: they tend to be malls or franchise outlets. A city needs some character in its landmarks, which often comes from being remarkable for what it can offer or for its quirks. Pune's old city landmarks still retain most of these traits, while the newer, often posh-er areas, are maddeningly homogenous.

For the discerning and the inquisitive, there is perhaps much to gain from an archaelogy of landmarks in a city: a lot is happening below the facade, even if it isn't 'happening' by modern standards. So the next time you give out directions to help your newly migrated colleague, perhaps you should slip in the odd reference to an odd place. Then direct that puzzled stare into a meaningful insight about the city.

Some older and newer landmarks

University Road: Rahul Cinema vs E-Square

Nehru Memorial/Dorabjees/West End vs SGS Mall

University Circle vs the University Flyover

Cafe Goodluck vs Wadeshwar

Christopher Nolan's "The Prestige"

I suppose reviewing a film about magic will inevitably call to mind Godard's famous "The cinema is truth 24 frames per second"¹. Not that statement per se, but an inversion of it, that cinema is illusion at that very rate. The movies are magic after all, a collection of static moments pieced together. We have got used to the fantastic nature of it all, rendering it mundane, but a viewing of Christopher Nolan's "The Prestige" revived my fascination for what is after all in essence the newest trick in the book.

The Prestige, sourced by Christopher Priest's novel of the same name, tells of a duo of warring conjurers, tied together in a double-helix of fabulous proportions. Scarcely have they met each other as budding magic-men that their fates become inextricably linked, in a maze of tragic death, petty violence, and mean machinations. Robert Angier (Hugh Jackman), or "The Great Danton", is the more accomplished showman, while Alfred "The Professor" Borden (Christian Bale) is the better creator. Michael Caine as "Cutter" ties them and us together providing the third wall to this drama. Three women and a girl form the husk of the men, and make significant impacts on the story's progress.

Starting from Angier baying for Borden's blood after a trick gone horribly wrong (and worse, the unpardonable loss of memory) to either man fixating upon a mirage of magnum-opus proportions, each man is obsessed with the other (Caine steps aside remarking "obsession is a young man's game"). Each is prepared to bend the very boundaries of magic, even reaching into science for aid in their battle. The story is, after all, set at a time, when science was still fairly magical - the only difference from superstition being that someone could explain it. But scientists like Nikola Tesla were the archetypes of mystifying inventors, and so in a brilliant weave, Tesla (a very hard to recognise David Bowie) and his toolbox of physics are part of the plot.

Let us pause at this point and contemplate the nature of magic-as-illusion. Jonathan Creek fans will be familiar with the required elaborateness of the great tricks, which when explained, invites a massive haemorrhage of allure. Also, magic tricks are never pure magic: just like Holmes said (he'd have been around the same time as these men would have), that if you have exhausted the impossible, that which remains must be true, however improbable it may seem. Every street magician knows that every trick can be explained, which makes it worse for the professional. The member of the audience can go away shaking her head in disbelief, but the pro has to deconstruct it. And what if it defies analysis? What if the mundane explanation is too poor to dot the points?

Returning to the film, the story is revealed in three overlapping narratives, which are placed at different points in time. As far as non-linearity goes, habits hard die old given Nolan's vintage (even though he is only 5-and-a-little films old²). Two of these narratives are mirror images of each other: each man reads the diary of the other to fill in his blanks (and in a bit of routine cinemagic, we can see in full splendour what they wrote about!). The brothers Nolan never let you be overly aware of the three-balls-in-air they're pulling off here, and as some of the best tricks go, you never notice 'em. The narratives are also a nod to the fundamental three-part-formula of any good magic trick³. The story is set in the late 19th century as it turns to the new, during the "Golden Age of Magic" as it was known (JC fans would remember posters of Maskelyne and Devant in Jonathan's home), which is the best time for any story about it to be placed in.

What makes this film wonderful, apart from the great acting (as usual by a mostly non-American cast!), is the peeling apart of revelations. You expect a bunch of twists when Nolan isn't making caped-crusader movies, and you will not be disappointed here (if you were, as the tagline says, watching this closely). In fact, while watching it, we twigged as to what was happening roughly 30 minutes before the end. We therefore experienced the strange sensation of watching the rest of movie as if it were a second viewing, with "ah!"s at some of the hinted touches. Memorably, smaller events foretell larger ones, which will no doubt become crystal-clear on repeated viewings - the story is a frac-tale, if you will, in this regard.

Technically, the film is a delight. The elaborate sets and apparatus, the make-up, the costumes, the lighting, the cinematography (though our first overhead shot of the train to Colorado seemed to be out of the storyboard for "Batman Begins") are top-notch. As is the acting. After Nolan's segue into big-time Hollywood, this film also marks a reunion of sorts of the old gang: David Julyan who scored all of Nolan's films except for the big one, and brother Jonathan, last remembered with "Memento", co-working on the screenplay here. Of course, if you peer hard enough, you can nitpick to your heart's content. But just to get this much off the air is outstanding.

The movie seems to pretty much have no marketing whatsoever in India, if a tiny paper ad and one show in the 'plexes in Bombay is anything to go by. So, if my recommendations are worth anything, go watch this little beauty before it vanishes (the illusory puns are unavoidable!). The movie was worth a 45-min delay and projection goof-ups at the local-blot-on-the-name-of-multiplexes⁴.

And finally. To Nolan. I know you can't see me stand up and applaud now - it's a little like you taking your bows below stage. But I went into raptures when I "got it" (and that too only somewhat⁵) - truly, I was a kid in front of something magical; seldom have I enjoyed myself in a movie theatre like this before. I really wish you could have seen my face⁶ :-)

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1: The reference must have seeped in from Jim Emerson's review of The Illusionist, the other film this year to feature a battle of wits, this time only with one magcian though, also set in the same time frame.
2: Keeps my record of having seen all of Nolan's features intact (Following, Memento, Insomnia, Batman Begins). Whither be Doodlebug?
3: Incidentally, Priest invented the pledge-turn-prestige terminology; it wasn't really trade lingo.
4: Huma Adlabs, Kanjur Marg, where no one but post-endsem IIT students go. Its biggest draw is that it is peacefully empty, so I shouldn't be complaining.
5: Or did I? The over-enthusiastic IMDB bulletin boards suggest several more possibilities than seemed necessary.
6: This last paragraph will make sense if you watch the film.
7: Image: Wikipedia

Manorama, six thumbs up - the sequel

Update (31 Oct 2011): WOGMA, the film review site is running "The Reel-Life Bloggers contest" on occasion of the site's 5th anniversary. Since the prizes are tempting and it gets me to pseudo-update my long-forgotten blog, I'm entering some of my reviews there. WOGMA is organising this with Reviewgang. Go visit them, and if you are the reviewing type, send in an entry.

This is about the time I went to see the desi noir Manorama 6 Feet Under the evening India was playing Pakistan in the inaugural World Twenty20 Cup. That meant a near-empty hall, an eerie suspense drama, and listening to an old couple discussing the movie. Read on.

Instead of reviewing Manorama Six Feet Under in detail (as many have done on PFC with noble intentions) and giving away plot points that could distract you from the actual viewing, I thought I'd just write about the 3 hours before, during, and after the film.

Yesterday turned out to be an unintended holiday thanks to local traffic being allergic to local festivities. There was a long day ahead and it was time to catch a movie on what should have been a working day. Sweet. Ideally, I would have liked to see the film early in the morning (no crowds, cool mornings, total peace) but no shows existed in the pre-noon section. So 4:30 pm it was.

Turned up early, so had time to kill. I have been to this multiplex on weekday afternoons, but even by those standards, the place seemed deserted. The unfulfilled recurring nightmare came to mind: that they will pull the plug on the show because I'm the only one who bought a ticket. I overheard one staffer tell another that there were 17 people for the show, which seemed to scrape past the quorum, 'cos here came the show. Great seats for anyone who wanted one, of course.

The lack of people only seemed to further increase the possibility that the movie would be good - such is my taste in films, I suppose. A couple of students took up seats, Munna-in-Rangeela style, next to me. To the left, an elderly couple eased themselves in. The students pulled out a packet of chips. I'm slightly condescending towards those who have formed an unnecessary association between movies and food, but soon, the smell of the wafers just got to me. Just as the movie began, the uncle on the left pulled out a packet of chips of his own. Darn.

The ants and Yana Gupta later, here was a look at a new-look Abhay Deol. He has earned enough goodwill for us to watch movies based merely on his presence in it, such is his taste in movies too. In his desert glasses and stubble and once-proud moustache, he looks like a father of one. Is this the first time we have a dimpled couple on screen? I wonder. I also think I spotted a dimple on the little boy who very effectively plays their son - if that's true, then give a bonus to the casting director. Some matter-of-fact comments about nano-scale corruption later, here is Sarika, and off we go.

Now, I haven't really seen any noir films before, so this is it. I know the story is heavily inspired from the Polanski classic Chinatown, so I turned down an offer to watch that film before I watched this one. Just like that. And what is that? Abhay D is watching a movie on the telly featuring Jack Nicholson. That has got to be "Chinatown" (it was). Nice touch, with that acknowledgement. Some more points for writers Navdeep Singh and Devika Bhagat.

It's been an hour and I have completely enjoyed myself. Vinay Pathak is having a great time crunching out some terrific dialogues by Abhinav Kashyap (last seen by self in Yuva), and Manoj Tapadia. Of all the Miss Indias in the last 15 years, I think Gul Panag's put on the best acting performances. Quite a surprise packet - Nagesh Kukunoor has done a magic turnaround with her. Here comes pretty Raima Sen.

The uncle-aunty nearby belong to the old school of cinema-watchers, who get totally involved in proceedings. They "ooh" and "aah" when things happen. They react loudly to plot twists and character allegations (which means a noisy hall in a noir film). In short, they keep the soap operas in business. I have uncles and aunts like that, so I'm used to it. Then the aunty asks: "yeh Satyaveer Randhawa kaun hai?". The uncle patiently explains: "woh jo hero hai." Aunty says: "yeh sab apne liye naye hai.n, na? kabhi dekhaa nahii.n in logo.n ko." Yes, and the new kids are doing a fine job.

I'm genuinely caught up in the suspense now. I cannot think of another Hindi film with such a good suspense plot, especially since "Ek Hasinaa Thi". The execution is impressive. Finally, it's come to end, all threads, old and 11th-hour, tied up nicely. Except for the last minute. I enjoyed 134 out of the 135 minutes - the last minute could have been different. Drat. Anyway, credits roll and I'm collecting my thoughts. Theatre empties soon and the vacuum guys are here. I stand in the aisle waiting for "The End". For such a small crowd, there is a lot of litter around. Shocking.

Out I emerge into the light. It had been slightly drizzling when I came, and it's been a cool, cloudy week. Perfect conditions for a film like this. I come home, and then the final thread is resolved. The Twenty20 final was not at night - it started at 5:30 pm, explaining why "things are not what they seem in the desert". Still, I only missed the uneventful Indian innings. It had already been a good day.

Ho yaa Huu!

Update (31 Oct 2011): My last entry in WOGMA & Reviewgang's, two review sites who are organizing "The Reel-Life Bloggers contest" on occasion of the WOGMA's 5th anniversary. This is my last entry (for suffering readers' sake). Hope these posts do no harm to their Page Rank.

Khosla ka Ghosla is definitely a classic; if I may say so, in the Golmal league. Which is we will recommend it to the next generation and brush aside any objections they may provide as piffling trifles. A middle-class portrait of great quality.

Cut straight to the marble plaque: Khosla ka Ghosla is the most entertaining film I've seen in a long, long time. Only a second viewing will tell if it is a long-lasting film, but as a first time view, there's hardly been anything this good in ages.

I remember Outlook magazine had featured the movie in a list of movies to watch out for, about 18 months ago or so - probably it had started doing the film festival circuit. It took a while to get to the theatres, which is a pity, considering that - well, there is really no point lamenting the commerce as usual. Instead, best to sing praises of Dibakar Banerjee (director) and Jaideep Sahni (writer).

If the story had been any more "middle-class", most of us would be in it. The attitudes and the reactions are so incredibly familiar. And finally, for those of us who had been brainwashed into thinking Punjabis' only activities include dancing at weddings in silk "suits" and trace the paths of their mustard fields, well, finally we see a life in which rajma-chawal causes extreme flatulence and hair-nets keep the long beards in check on morning walks. It was the return of the world of Jaspal Bhatti.

You could, if you wished, tear the plot developments to pieces, but then you wouldn't appreciate the world of P. G. Wodehouse as well. This is a plot in the spirit of Jeevesian schemes to pull the troubled out of the muck. There were points where I felt really glum at the predicaments piling up, but the BGMs tell you (nice music, by the aptly associated Bapi-Tutul) - they'll make it. It was the same faith that Bertie Wooster always has in his guardian angel (name of Pelham Grenville, perhaps)

The acting ranges from the competent to the excellent. Anupam Kher (whom you are never sure about) recaptures rare old form as the uncertain householder; Boman Irani as the evil land shark with the disco paunch is good as usual; Kiran Juneja, Navin Nischol and Vinod Nagpal (seeing him after a long while) provide fine support; Ranvir Sheorey as the good-for-nothing elder son scintillates; Parvin Dabas is lucky to have a role that requires him to underplay; Vinay Pathak is dependable; Tara Sharma almost dubao-fies the luTiyaa (need to get the voice dubbed, lady) but not by too much; the sub-support cast is terrific ("munjaaaal" comes to mind).

So there you have it, jii: an unqualified recommendation for "Khosla ka Ghosla". Watch out for the cool title sequence, "deep breath inhale/breath out/breath inhale", and "chiraunjilaal", the best film name since "billo chaman bahaar", bhai.

Freshly "Pre-owned" stocks

First it was "pre-owned cars". Now its "pre-owned video games" (seen at Landmark, Pune). Further proof that the world of marketing is often in bed with the dictionary of euphemisms (this last phrase was a metaphor, by the way).

Suddenly, no one wants to say it like it is: the car is second-hand, the game was sold to us by someone else, that is just something the previous diner threw up. "Pre-owned" simply sounds corny. Before it was owned, it was manufactured, assembled, retailed, distributed, displayed, packed, thrown-away-at-never-before-seen-rates-at-export-material-reject-sales.

But before it was owned, it was never owned.

Try saying: "Oh, this is my post-owned car. I've had it for three years now. I'm thinking of selling it to a new post-owner and become a proud owner of a pre-owned car".

Soon everything will achieve new pre-ownership. The raddi-wallah, previously mistaken for a mere recycler, is actually an enabler of pre-owned items, a mobile purveyor of modern antiques. If information from 'trusted sources' is first-hand then grapevine data is no longer rumour, but 'pre-owned' gossip.

Try saying: "Oh, these undies are not second-hand, they are merely pre-worn".

We have an old car at home - we are its 3rd owner. That makes it a pre-pre-owned vehicle. It also sounds like a spiritual guru.

I suppose there is no point in continuing these rants; after all this is the land that also gave "prepone" to the world. I will wait to recycle them another day. Maybe the day I see matrimonial ads for "second marriages" claiming:

"Dynamic, fair, 42 (looks 30) /5"8', IIT-IIM. Innocent, issueless pre-married."

Till then, this is just pre-post-erous.

Say no, Rita (a review of Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara ...)

(...with brief cameos by DCH and Aranyer Din Ratri)

Zoya Akhtar's Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara, on the face of it, trades similarities with her younger brother's debut film Dil Chahta Hai. Both are about three friends finding insights about their life and their dreams. One of the many things that is common to both is the idea of a road-trip; while in DCH, it is just a pleasure trip, a great way to introduce a good song that lays out the attitudes of its characters, in ZNMD, it is the entire film (i.e. "the journey", lit. and fig.)

ZNMD is everything people initially accused of DCH of being. We took offence to DCH's nonchalant in-your-face affluence and its carefully coordinated blue-white hues. But as sense and time have prevailed over strangely moral indignation, we recognised in it something deeper: that life can often be complicated; it's not just the poor that have a monopoly on loss, sadness, and the obligations of relationships; and that poor little salad-eating rich slacker boys are human after all. (And it had *that* misdial scene.)

I doubt sense or time will be that kind to ZNMD.

ZNMD is like watching 3 hurdlers preparing to run a race, jostling for position, unsure of whether their legs would be up for the straddle. And then finding all the hurdles missing and the race reduced to a stroll through a lovely park.

ZNMD is a "for loop" of simple computations; where each character is allowed to iterate through his choice of lit. and fig. adventure, with a 100% guarantee of meaningful insight (or the storyteller will refund the money for the trip). In DCH, everyone loses something in their gain: Akash his pride and self-assurance, Sid his lady love, Sameer (presumably) his less complicated self. In contrast, here things unravel themselves in such technicolor hunky-dory-ness that you think that had they continued in Spain or gone to Greece for another week, the Eurozone debt crisis would have resolved itself with a shower of gold from the heavens.

Great plots demand conflict; they demand that its characters suffer. By all means, fling resolutions at them in the end, but put those hapless story puppets through the wringer. In ZNMD, even the potentially embarassing and revelatory meeting with a lost dad ends up being highly underwhelming. Hearts are purged of fear all too easily, love is discovered and conquered with ease, embarassments dissolve at the first sight of daylight. In short, the day is short and begging to be seized without a fight. So why should that interest me?

ZNMD is a visit to the nearest convenience store, where distress turns out to be the inability to find fresh Shiitake mushrooms, conveniently resolved (or your money back, remember) by finding it in the hands of a pretty girl in the neighbouring aisle, who decides she is willing to walk with you into the sunset (or out to the parking lot) forever.

And there's not even a queue at the payment counter. Cease the day.

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Post Script: Earlier the same week, I saw Satyajit Ray's "Aranyer Din Ratri". Strange as it sounds, there are parallels to be drawn between these two films. In both, a set of friends decide to escape into less familiar, more natural environs. There they have experiences that change them fundamentally. Both sets find and lose love, and both are principally character-driven plots.

But see how, in the hands of a master, the characters are deeply revealed to us, how life is revealed to be complex but worth engaging with, where loss is balanced with insight. All this without, IMO, being any less entertaining.

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All images from Wikipedia

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The Tamil Diwali - a SiNi-matic experience

Many people ask me why is it that the Tamil Diwali (or Deepavali as it's more likely to be called in the land) starts at 4 am with an oil bath and ends at 6 am after some crackers. This is not the case and I will attempt to undefame this (possibly North Indian) defamy.

(image: Geetham.net)

The simple and practical purpose behind getting your Diwali chores out of the way is so that we can indulge in the Sun TV Deepavali 'sirappu nigazhchigal' (i.e. 'special programmes', as you unentangle your Northie tongue after an ill-advised attempt to pronounzh that). In fact, some dispassionate but misguided anthropologists have even been led to believe that this communal partaking of the dawn-to-dusk Sun TV feast is the true essence of the Tamil Diwali. (Some rascally fellow has also submitted a thesis saying Naragasuraa, was misheard on his deathbed: he wanted us to do 'videos', not 'vedis'. This is just more defamy.)

In reality, this is how things unfold. A week before Diwali, Sun TV will begin announcing its line-up of this year's SiNis (Ed.: carpal-friendly abbr.; its similarity to "Cine" is purely coincidental).To make sure each and every viewer of Sun TV is able to by-heart the schedule, the kind souls in charge of programming will show this lineup every 15 minutes. This often means that the 9 pm nightly soap will start the next day at 6 am, instead of 10 pm the same day.

One of Sun TV's core beliefs is eternal consistency ( which is why they only recently began accepting the helio-centric theory of the solar system), so each year, the SiNi line-up is the same:

1. Nadaswaram (a.k.a. Nagaswaram) performance
2. Devotional Carnatic song (preferably by siblings)
3. Spiritual guidance (depending on judicial status of seer's police cases)

At this point, Sun TV will lean heavily on our rich (5000+n)¹ year-old cultural heritage i.e. 21st century Kollywood. The schedule becomes:

1. Interview with Tamil Music Director
2. Interview with reigning Tamil comedy superstar (i.e. Vadivelu)
3. Interview with the super-talented cast of a about-to-be-super-hit Tamil film releasing today

At this point, we will have one hour of the 'paTTi manDram'.

The 'paTTi maNDram' is literally 'the debate forum' in which several Tamil professors will humourously discuss serious topics such as:

• Who watches more 9 pm nightly soaps: daughter-in-laws or mother-in-laws?
• Is the use of soap by daughter-in-laws antithetical to our (5000+n) year-old heritage?
• Mother-in-laws are more likely to break-up the home after watching the 9 pm soap: True or False? Comment with references to 9 pm soaps (one 8 pm soap rebuttal allowed)
• What is the correct spelling: mother-in-laws or mothers-in-law?

One hour of lively debate by the professors with humorous interruptions by the Chair (a gentleman called Solomon Pappaiah) ends with victory for the mother-in-law or the daughter-in-law (ever since records were kept, the scoreline has been 37-32 in favour of the m-i-ls). Just how wildly popular these debates are can be judged by shots of wild laughter from the audience in the debate hall (even after an ad break) and that the speakers and the Chair often get to have wild cameos in Rajnikanth films. (See example paTTi maNDram video

After such cerebral sparring, the rest of SiNis are:

Afternoon Film (from two years ago, which was aired last year)

Interview with star (not superstar, mind you)

Recitation by superstar poet (i.e. Vairamuthu)

Interview with reigning heroine (who speaks one of Punjabi, Tulu, Gujarati, Marwadi, Czech, or Dogri)

Evening Superhit Film (that flopped last year)

Interview with editor/sound recordist/art director (the South takes its technicians very seriously)

An important note about the film is that it is never just a film, but a <dramatic>"Film that is being telecast on TV for the first time in this universe or any of its parallel universes"</dramatic>

And there are two in a day. It really must be Diwali.

The great thing about Sun TV is, as we have already remarked, its remarkable and secular consistency. To ensure people aren't put off balance, it follows this same template for Pongal, for Vinayagar Chathurthi, for Christmas, and other festive days. For Tamil New Year day, it gets even special: by interviewing A.R.Rahman, Vijay, or Dhanush. Or if we are very, very lucky, Vadivelu twice.

And people say the Tamil Diwali ends at 6 am.

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1. (the linguistic constant 'n' is introduced to ensure that Tamil remains older than Sanskrit or Proto-Aryan or Trans-Elvish).

"A cricketing theory of Indian quiz groups"

In which I make unwarranted comparisons between two domains of personal interest. At the BCQC blog.

Might as well use the blank space on this blog to tell you that we at the BCQC quiz regularly at COEP (for whose Boat Club it is named). There are informal quizzes almost every weekend (such as this Saturday, at 1:30 pm) and formal quizzes once a month, to which there are no fees or major restrictions. We're on Twitter, on Facebook, on a blog, and are getting our site up back again from its Van Winkle slumber.

It's a good place to learn new things, revive old memories, watch some silly people talk, and have a weirdly interesting time without illegal stimulants (at least during the quiz; what happens afterwards is not official).

The 1Z Quiz

As some of you may know, I've been running a daily quiz blog called "Infinite Zounds". It's been exactly a year since the blog began, and so, to mark this milestone, I'm also running a trivia contest for about a week.

If this sort of thing interests you, head here to know more.

Prelims questions from the Brand Equity Quiz 2011 Pune round

Unlike last year, I was a professional spectator this time at the Pune round of this year's BEQ (results here). Questions (answers in a comment; Prabhakar has the finals ):

1. who owns a farmhouse in khadakwasla, sai service petrol pump
2. deutsche welle gives the BOBs awards. Best of?
3. longest reigning monarch, also has a large fortune
4. batata wada, what does batata mean in eng
5. which former employee of ad dept of GE worked with Al Ries for over 26 years
6. victorian author worked at warren blacking factory for 6 shillings a week -
7. bcos they were constantly touched by hands and feet of ppl, which mughal ruler did away with the quranic kalima from coins
8. which tight-fitting trousers and short riding boots shares its name with an indian city
9. which prog topped last week's TRPs on Indian TV
10. how many vincent van gogh sell in his lifetime
11. mark zuckerberg is on google+ (y/n)?
12. which org did gandhi praise as medium of unparallele
d immediacy, intimacy, and power
13. tax on which edible item did naoroji refer to as: most cruel revenue imposed in any civilised country
14. on a qwerty keyboard, the keys for typing which of these currencies (euro/yen/dollar) appear on the same row
15. in 2010 who earned the most among female tennis players (out of sharapova, li na, serena)
16. which refrigerator brand named after the person who developed the concept of absolute zero
17. which fruit is the 4th most valuable food after rice, wheat, milk? (choices: apple, banana, mango)
18. who painted his 1st cinema hoarding for v shantaram's prabhat studio
19. in which 2011 film does the air hostess Sonia agree to deliver a package for Vladimir Dragunsky
20. liverpool has an airport named after which Beatle
21. (v) identify the advertiser: 'passion to perform' tagline
22. (v) id the person
23. (v) logo for what ipl team
24. (a) which entertainment co's brand identity
25. (a) id the voice
26. the word ___ originates from goldsmith's hall in london where articles were tested and stamped with such a mark
27. on whose death on nov 29, 1993, was parliament adjourned for a day in India
28. 1874, a british bakery created which biscuit to celebrate marriage of Maria Alexandrovna to Duke of Edinburgh
29. which e-commerce co's logotype is an arrow leading from A to Z representing customer satisfaction
30. which painkiller also marketed as Panadol in other countries, is the leading paracetamol brand in India

Highest score by a team was 29, cut-off must have been 26 (after tiebreaks) or above.

Last year's prelims

Want more daily quizzing? Try Infinite Zounds, my daily quiz blog on events in the news

Yeh hai dungistan ka wow

The only thing keeping pace with inflation is the sales in pet dogs. Each morning (and doubly so on weekends), the streets are filled with pooches attending to nature's urgent calls, while their masters (or more commonly their slaves) remain on call waiting. Observe these masters and you will realise that to them, the pet dog is a true member of the family. As the humorist Pu La wrote, they talk to them in intimate tones and adamantly claim the pets can understand them.

But I have never seen pet owners lead their kids or any other equally prized members of their family out to relieve them in the middle of the roads. The morning constitutional belongs not just to them, but to us as well, but we are forced to slalom past remains of their privileged motions. The yellow road is not one that leads to Oz, but to public nuisance.

Of course, one can claim that pets are merely following citizens in a country long used to treating outdoors as the natural repository of the insides. When can we expect that owners don't take our streets for granted and teach both pets and children the value of the commons? Perhaps it is time to raise an equal and opposing stink of some kind.

The last word belongs to that great philosopher of our age, Jerry Seinfeld, a citizen of a city where they make you clean up after your pet:

On my block, a lot of people walk their dogs, and I always see them walking along with their little poop bags, which to me is just the lowest function of human life. If aliens are watching this through telescopes, they're gonna think the dogs are the leaders. If you see two life forms, one of them's making a poop, the other one's carrying it for him, who would you assume was in charge?