Tera naam kya hai... basanti?

Rang De Basanti seems to have captured the attention of the desi blogosphere and the Indian media like nothing else before it. Oh wait, a small correction. Before RDB, there was IIPM. But as Jerry would quip, not that there is anything wrong with it. At last notice, a simple search on Blogger Search for "Rang De Basanti" turns up 2,234 posts while a similar search on Technorati returns 1,257 results. In fact, Rang De Basanti has been in the top 15 list of searches on Technorati for the last couple of days and is in the top 10 currently.

What is in this movie that has captured our attention? From what I saw on Saturday, it is certainly not difficult to understand why. First reason - the whole movie has a young tone to it, even the parts that are in sepia. Second reason - the wonderful soundtrack, which some people say is out of place, but the majority has taken to. Personally I found the music refreshing with the director making, what has to be the most novel use, of the ubiquitous songs, in recent times. Having mentioned these reasons, I do have to add that there is one more, something that I find hard to justify and that is the whole business of patriotism.

Most people see Rang De Basanti as the Swadesh of 2006. While the latter deals with the pangs of remorse that first generation NRIs seem to harbor at the bottom of their heart - an almost guilty sense of helplessness at not being able to do their bit for the progress of their homeland, Rang De Basanti looks at a similar, but more cynical mindset through the eyes of the college educated 20 somethings.

It can be safely said that the kind of characters represented in RDB do exist in real life. The first half of the movie is as realistic as it gets in India's universities. Each one of us has known a DJ, Sukhi, Karan, Aslam and Sonia at one point in some form or the other. But as the second half progresses, it becomes increasingly difficult to envision a scenario where individuals would react the same way as these five (and Laxman) do. And that is where RDB moves from a potential Swadesh emulator to being just another celluloid fantasy. However any half baked student of cinema would tell you that celluloid fantasy is good too, for fantasies were the building blocks of cinema as we know it. So, Rakeysh Mehra should not be offended if one labels RDB thus. But one senses that there is an intention to convey a message here. What is this message? And so the confusion begins.

As mentioned earlier, the first half of the movie hints at a clean entertainer in the Dil Chatha Hai mold, a growing up movie of sorts. Make no mistake, RDB is a growing up movie. But what those youngsters grow up to be leaves a lot to be desired. One wonders if the ends aimed at by these young 20 somethings is a direct contradiction of the means adopted. The message sounds like one that a hardened pick pocket uses to justify his acts - as a deterrent for others seeking the same path. I don't want to say anything more lest it be viewed as a plot spoiler and one wouldn't want that. Sadly this "message" is viewed as a USP for this movie and that is a shame. For there are a lot of positives in this movie and the "message" is certainly not one of them.

But why should a movie proselytize at all? Why can't a movie be just for entertainment, as one half of this movie seems to be. Maybe it is the resident cynic in me talking, but I think that the longevity of any movie's message is going to be slightly longer than the time spent on the journey back home from the theatre. And one can safely bet that while crimes seem to be inspired by movie plots, there has never been an incident where a movie's plotline has inspired something positive. Wait, that is just what my mom told me 5 years ago when she found I had played hookey from class to watch Anaconda.

So next time I read some review of RDB (you'd think I'd stay away, but at the rate at which people seem to be churning reviews, I don't think I can escape without reading another one) that tells me how the movie brought a lump to the author's throat, I'd say "Ok. me too" (ya it did raise goosebumps too, but that was for the nod to Georgie boy's jaunt in a fighter plane). But if someone writes that this movie will make people raise up and do something, I'd ask the authors for a blood sample to check what they are high on. All those who you see on TV carping on patriotism are not going to give a crap about the same if and when you ask them an hour later. Ofcourse there are exceptions, as usual. But the exceptions are certainly in the miniscule minority.

As for me, I got home last evening and as I got thinking, I decided that I liked the other Basanti movie much better. It had a two leading men, one a brooding man who was "straight face" funny, and another who was a lovable goof. A motor mouth of a heroine and a charismatic villian contributed as well. And it was way funnier and it was not certainly not preachy. Personally, the whole "susaad", angrez ke zamaane" and "Kitne aadmi the" thing was funnier than the Westerner feigning ignorance of the local language and the chemistry of the lead characters certainly seemed to be much better and ergo much more entertaining.

And before you lynch me, you have to understand that I watch movies for entertainment. Don't get me wrong, RDB is certainly miles ahead of the borderline porno flicks churned out by the Bhatt camp and what not. And unlike others, I am not stupid enough to let the story within a story confuse me. Which is why I will gladly watch RDB again.

Waiting for the Mahatma - The Ramblings of the Confused and the Nervous

It is almost 1: 30 PM when I start putting fingertips to keyboard. Soon the doorbell sounds. I jump up in warm anticipation of correspondence from the Promised Land. But I am mostly disappointed, with the Mahatma in Burgundy (MiB) carrying in his hands, only a few letters from financial institutions. He nonchalantly wipes his nose and his sweaty forehead with the back of his palm and hands the letters to me. I take them with barely disguised disgust and gently slam the door on his face. Walking back dejectedly to my room, I continue replying to the day's e-mails.

There is not much to reply to, though. Most of the introductory emails sent to prospective graduate advisors have been ignored. But there is still hope. One gentleman from Ohio who tells me that, I have to apply for financial aid with the application that accompanies the application, the same one that I have already enclosed with the packet. That means two things, one positive and the other negative - the positive being that at least, I don't have to genuflect anymore to the professors at Ohio. The negative is that the uncertainty of aid at Ohio will last until I set foot on Athens, if I choose to do so.

The wait continues as I continue typing. Waiting for the Mahatma has never been more tedious. He is scheduled to visit my abode once again at 5:00 PM or thereabouts. But will I see some positive outcomes after this wait? The answer to that question, only the 200 odd minutes between now and then, shall tell. Like all Indians in recent times, I have only hope in my side. But then hope is the only thing that I can afford right now to keep the fire in my stomach burning.

I stop day-dreaming and go back to typing. I have to send a couple of mails (with my resume attached) to the companies in response to their ads in the "Opportunities" section of the day's "The Hindu". This is quite a change from the heady days in the months of October and November, when that particular section of the good old "Hindu paper" served as time-pass between 2:30 and 3:00 PM. But of late, uncertainty, Dubya and self doubt have combined to crash-land my soaring plane back to the runway from where it took off last June. And the people, whom I have asked to clarify this niggling "drop box" phenomenon have not been much forthcoming. Though I know its only two days since I asked them, it seems like an eternity. At this point, I take a break from regular programming to issue an appeal to all those people who are sailing in my own boat. If you are ever in distress or in doubt regarding anything and everything, please do not play "pass the parcel". As Edgar Hoover once said - "The buck stops here", so shall you say - "All my worries stop with me". Rather than flood mailing lists with the same plaintive emails, take the initiative and try to find answers yourself.

I know you are asking me - "So, why are you telling us this?" Well, I suggest you take a closer look at the title. Do you get it now? You should not have moved past that ominous title. But now that you have started and proceeded, I suggest you read on. So where were we? Yes, my self doubt! Don't worry. I think I might have overstayed my welcome here.

Wait, there rings that bell again. It's not the familiar MiB, but a Mahatma in "mufti". He brings warm or rather lukewarm tidings. Another I-20 and this time it is from a university in Michigan. So the situation gets rosier. But then the issue now is the visa, isn't it? Will I or will I not make it to the Promised Land? Did "Bungling Buffalo" Bill take time off from his dalliances and do something about the student visa just before he cleaned up his office prior to his departure? Or has Dubya removed student visas from the counter list just like he has done with H1Bs?

Well, the answer to all those questions is a tentative "I don't know!" So the next 100 days are definitely going to be crucial. In the meantime, every night I dream of spending New Year's Eve 2001 in the sun soaked beaches of Florida or in the midst of the teeming boisterous masses at Times Square.

Wow, it is almost 5 PM. As it happens every day, the Mahatma has disappointed me once more. I resign myself to watching a humorous take on life in The Promised Land as it unfolds on the "Friends" re-runs in Star World - just about the only bright spot in my otherwise dull existence on the 3rd rock from the Sun.

P.S: This is an edited/polished account of the afternoons, typically spent in biting my nails, waiting for the postman (the aforementioned MiB) deliver our mail for the day. This piece was born as an email to a list that I am part of and this is the first time that I am posting it on a blog or community. On hindsight, it is interesting to note that the MiB finally did bear good news one day and I actually ended up in Ohio for a Masters on a full scholarship.

(Cross-posted as an opinion peice in the Culture section on Desicritics.org)

Desicritics is live

Desicritics.org is now live. When asked for an introductory post, I scrambled to find something suitable to write about, but realized I was not going to make it at all. But then I chanced upon what is probably one of the earliest "bloggable" materials that I had written. It is probably even my first effort, but I seem to remember a round-up of the VB series (all that i can remember is that one BC Lara won the man of the series) that I wrote. Can't find that particular one anywhere.

So anyways, I put it up on the site, though it does not exactly go with the composition of the community and the its aims. The editors were kind enough to ignore this aspect and post it as it is. Anyways, this first post is up here now. And I am cross-posting here (at least a small excerpt) too.

Coming soon... Desicritics.org, a new community aspiring to be a leading source of online news and opinion with a South Asian focus. I was invited to contribute and I ardently hope that I can meet expectations with a post every now and then. I am still deciding upon the nature of my contribution, but it does promise to be a challenge that I hope to be match up to, adequately .

What the FUCK!

Yes, I used that four letter word - Fuck... Fuck, I used it again. Fuck..AGAIN! I hope you are sane enough to exclaim FUCK and hopefully much more when you read the headline that I have underlined (in red) in the screenshot above.

And then as you click that headline and go here to read what promises to be an overhelming verdict, you find that the headline is nowhere on the page. Instead all you find is reader responses to this peice. I hope you cause a few ears to bleed and point this out to all those poor souls whose ear drums you punched out with your language.

Cricket's biggest rivalry

Screenshot courtesy: ESPN

Wow! And to think that I always thought that the Ashes was cricket's best known rivalry ;)

(P.S: Guess the significance of the post was not very clear. My bad. I posted it not because of the headline, but because of the location of the headline. This was on ESPN's US homepage and finding cricket mentioned there was a pleasant surprise. In the time I have been here, only once before have I seen this first hand. That was a couple of years ago, when Sportscenter's Top 10 Plays of the Day featured Chaminda Vass plucking a catch out of nowhere on the ropes, a shot that would have gone for six otherwise. However, I have to mention here that with the amount of TV access that I have had in the past few years, it is possible that I have missed some other references, though I never fail to watch Sportscenter when possible.)