Movie Review- Love Aaj Kal

If we ever calculated the differential between potential and result for movies and listed them in descending order, Delhi-6 would top the list with Love Aaj Kal coming a slap-worthy second. The movie is difficult to review because during it -when we had the pleasure of hacking the movie to death in true sadakchap style, and after it –when we were abusing everybody from Imtiaz Ali to Imtiaz Ali under the unsteadying influence of Diet Coke, we couldn’t figure out what the hell was happening; not because it was Mementoistically complicated or Night-Shyamalanistically abstruse, but because it was so comprehensively pointless. And it pains me to criticize the movie, because I think Imtiaz Ali is a smart director. But unfortunately, if he addresses a gathering that has just been subjected to Love Aaj Kal, he will most certainly earn plenty of frustrated footwear.

So Jai Vardhan Singh (Saif) is this stereotypical uber-cool uber-modern clean-shaven stud whose core competencies include scorning traditions, scorning old love stories, chick-hopping, and being practical. The first 15 minutes of the movie move at a frenetic pace culminating in an amicable break-up between Saif and Deepika, who split so that they can pursue their professional dreams. In the period between their last goodbye and Deepika’s flight to India next morning, Saif meets Veer (Rishi Kapoor), a stereotypical 60s man who waxes eloquent about the virtues of sachcha pyaar and laments the logicopractical modern man who doesn’t follow his heart enough. Deepika and Saif have a truly entertaining conversation before she leaves, and then she leaves.

Now that he has nothing better to do, he hangs out with Rishi Kapoor who tells him about his innocent 60s love story. The pattern is predictable- Rishi Kapoor (who looked like a turbaned Saif in his jawaani) tells Saif about his 60s love story with this Punjabi kudi (who looks thin enough, and has expressions monotonous enough, to be considered one-dimensional); and Saif keeps interjecting with “Come on man!” and other Censor Board-approved variations of “What the fuck!”

To cut a dreadful story short, Saif and Deepika want to “move on” after their break-up. Saif finds some Swiss chick who loves Indian culture and wants to see the Taj Mahal; Deepika dates with and gets proposed to by her boss (Rahul Khanna with a size 2 clipper run over his head); Saif takes his newfound girlfriend to India and starts meeting Deepika on the sly; Deepika marries Rahul; Saif is destroyed, Deepika is distraught; Saif wastes himself by growing a beard, losing his job, and pining for Deepika; Deepika ditches Rahul because she can’t get Saif out of her head; LHS = RHS, Saif meets Deepika and they make up.

I’m sure the script must’ve been okay; it just hasn’t worked on screen. For starters, there was -273^oC chemistry between Saif and Deepika; Imtiaz made the mistake of compressing their entire love story into 15 minutes; they could’ve been brother and sister for all I cared. Secondly, the songs were numerous and bad; I can’t understand why Imtiaz hires Pritam; he might as well buy the rights of some Vietnamese or Moroccan album. Thirdly, he strived too hard to show the contrast between love aaj and love kal, and used some of the most clichéd clichés you’re ever likely to hear to establish this contrast. The biggest weakness of the film, however, was the dialogues. Imtiaz Ali is a really witty writer, as he showed in Socha Na Tha and Jab We Met; but the dialogues in this movie, save the odd one here and there, were woefully vacuous.

The acting was just okay. The 60s love story track had a lovely rustic charm to it that no amount of cool-dudeness from Saif, mini-skirts from Deepika, and smooches from both could match. Saif looked a pretty authentic Sardar and I can’t believe he had to apologize to the Sikh community for the length of his beard in the movie. Rishi Kapoor was a delight to watch, and I can understand why he was such a rage in his time. In all, the movie wasn’t bad- it just didn’t work; it was too lethargic and too one-eyed in its interpretation of our generation. Go watch it with a gang of friends in a shady theatre where people don’t stare at you for making a racket, and make a racket- you’ll have fun.

Weighed Down- 2

Since the last time he was weighed down, he decided to buy trousers and jeans with one eye on the future. That meant buying size 34 jeans when his waist was still 32". This implied two things-

a) He could keep glutting without worrying about waking up with the jeans's button and button hole a foot apart

b) He felt good wearing a pair of loose jeans every morning. It made him feel thin- which is more important than actually being thin. Think about those models who are as flat as Tom when a door slams him against the wall, but still deprive themselves of good, greasy, creamy, cholesteroley, fatty, starchy food.

He went to the US feeling pretty good about himself. He also started playing tennis, which meant he could afford to eat without girthical fears. He threw caution to the hurricane and returned every week from Walmart and the Indian store with 2 gigantic bags of potato chips, a semicircular cake with cream on every side and inside, 3 large packets of Haldirams bhujiya, 2 bottles of mango juice, and umpteen frozen ready-to-eat meals. That's not to say he didn't cook. While the ready-to-eats were intended to be used on days he was too tired to cook, he eventually ended up cooking on days he ran out of ready-to-eats. He also developed the habit of ordering a medium-size Dominos pizza and garlic bread every week. He was under the honest (mistaken) impression that all those hours of tennis (1 hour of doubles and 1 hour of twiddling-thumbs-waiting-for-your-turn every day) would burn the extra calories he was consuming by the thousands. Little did he know it was like that standard question- A frog climbs 100 feet up and slips 1 foot down a well every day. How far is it from the starting point after 10 days?

Damn evolution! Like you can't notice incremental changes in your height every day (unless you drink Complan regularly, which will supposedly make you the tallest structure in the world after the Burj), you also can't notice incremental changes in weight. So while the adipose was gradually fortifying itself and expanding him ever so slightly, he continued gorging without a care in the world. Even when he saw his loose jeans weren't as loose anymore, he didn't lose sleep over it. After all, clothes shrink when you wash them, don't they?

Then, Los Angeles happened. Cameras came out and megabytes were consumed. He posed for photos merrily- smiling, laughing, standing, and sitting. On the last day of his visit, he transferred the pictures to a laptop to look at his well-toned, shapely, muscular, athletic self. What he saw came as a thunderous shock; Hanuman fumbled with the Dronagiri and it came crashing down on him. His face, once small, thin, and ugly, was now big, round, and ugly. All the photographs he thought would be worthy of sending to the auditions for the next Bond, turned out to be perfect for VLCC's Before photo. The growth in his stomach was 3-dimensional, so whether you took an elevation, plan, or side view, you would be able to notice the ungainly bulge. His loose t-shirts could scarcely hide his sins, and were stretched to the point of being short-tops. When he sat in the flight next morning, he was half-afraid the seat-belt wouldn't go around. It did. He ordered a meal and box of Pringles. Half-way through his box of Pringles, he realised he had to stop this junk. He just had to. He mulled over this over the remaining half-box of Pringles, a packet of cookies, and a nice, soft, buttery cake.

He was so scared of stepping on the weighing machine, that he didn't. But he assumed he would be in the 75-80 kg range. A strict diet followed- no more rice, chips, mango juice, ready-to-eats, and pizzas. He began cooking and playing tennis everyday. He was confident this would work. It did. By January, he looked less grotesque. But 4 months in India, marked by curd rice with pickle, chaat, oily sabjis with enough oil to make OPEC irrelevant if used to run cars, and all kinds of sweets, were enough to inflate him to Los Angelical proportions again. And this time there was no tennis. But he climbed 6 floors of stairs to his office everyday, again giving him the impression that it justified his pre-climb and post-climb gluttony. He also did 20 crunches every day (for 10 days), and followed this rigorous work-out with 2 packets of burnt Maggi, chips, and cookies.

Well, when he finally got back to the US on June 1, he decided he would relive his post-Los Angeles-pre-India days. He started cooking everyday; he almost completely abstained from snacking- the only snacks he had were Wheat crackers (0g fat). Whatever he bought had to pass the flip-it-around-and-see-the-fat-content test. He began eating fruits regularly. The tennis was back too- and it was singles this time, which meant more running, more sweat, more calories burned. In addition, at work, he went out into the field almost everyday, climbing insanely tall ladders, crawling through holes, and in general sweating enough to regenerate the Saraswati. Whenever he felt like indulging in a sweet or a cake or something tasty-but-fatty, he'd take off his shirt and face the mirror, and wince at the excrescence he'd see.

Anyway, after 3 weeks of strict dieting, climbing, crawling, and tennising, he was confident that he would be back in the early 70s; 72 probably, or at the most 73. After another intense work-out in the field, he stepped expectantly on the weighing scale. These weighing scales aren't digital or the circular automatic types which tell you your weight instantly so that you can step off before your friend sees it. These are balances. You have to slide a weight along a scale till the scale is stable. So it gets kind of Swadesical as you keep sliding the weight waiting for the scale to stabilize. To cut a long, painful story short, the scale read 152lbs! Less than 70 kilos! He was over the moon, till his colleague came around, corrected the scale, so that the new, correct reading was 170lbs. 77 kilos. He was aghast; he stepped off, took off his heavy coveralls and H2S monitor- that was about as naked as he could get in office- and stepped back on. It read 169 lb. He went back to his desk and sighed.

Possible Post-poll Scenarios

Consequences of Maya winning with the 3rd Front's backing

Consequences of the 3rd Front ditching Maya

The picture says it all

The Probabalistic God

Let me confess at the outset that my practical knowledge of religion is limited to what I see around me and what I have experienced in these 23 years. Most of my notions of God are a result of these experiences and of my contemplations on the subject. In addition, I have been influenced by Richard Dawkins’s The God Delusion, Stephen Hawking’s The Theory of Everything, and Klaus Klostermaier’s A Brief Introduction to Hinduism.

I’m sure most people of my age would already have contemplated about religion, and most would’ve made peace with their faith or the lack of it. So, if you think most of what you read is clichéd, please consider this a personal diary that I feel like baring. This post is, not surprisingly, very long. I've added some pictures for relief, but with the hope that they don't trivialize the issue.

What we all know

We all agree that God as a subject has been debated for years now, and will be debated for many more without a logical conclusion. As we all know, the closing line in all such debates is, “It’s finally down to your faith.”

I don’t know about you, but for me, faith is based partly on reason, so I can’t just “feel” my faith; it’s something I need to decide- especially if it’s about faith in an entity that we cannot see; whose presence we assume; whose influence we consider all-pervading; who is considered the ultimate Chief Justice, Scientist, and Engineer; and whose identity depends on the average of each man’s religion.

Most of us have had a religious upbringing and understandably so, because until recently there was very little ammunition available to the doubter in us. In fact, by the time we’re old enough to be inquisitive, we begin taking God and his existence for granted. Even those of us who contemplate know that we can never conclusively disprove God’s existence just as believers can never conclusively prove the same. Read this masterpiece about Russell's teapot. This is where faith (a euphemism for gut) steps in.

Our gut is heavily influenced by our early experiences, which are almost always pro-God. The existence of an omnipotent God also seems intuitive when we are young, because we look at our bodies, at the marvels of nature, at stars and the Sun, and realize that there must really be a super-intelligent being designing all this. All those who don’t read or hear about Charles Darwin and the history of the universe have very little reason to believe that our bodies are not God’s handiwork and that the universe is not created by God. But even among those who believe in evolution and natural selection, there are those who believe that our daily lives, our future, and our every action are governed by God’s will, and are judged by Him. How can we ever defend or contest this?

The problem with prayers

Many believers in God believe prayers have the power to help them achieve an end that they might not have been able to achieve otherwise. Even if they agree that their prayers are more an expression of hope than a demand for action, they somehow feel praying helps them. Now this is the ultimate Russell’s teapot. How can you ever prove or disprove the power of prayers? Whether you are a believer, an agnost, or an atheist, you will agree that not all prayers are answered. For atheists, the reason is simple- since God does not exist, why God does not answer some prayers is a non-question. But how do believers explain unanswered prayers?

Believers believe that some prayers are not answered because of God’s will, where as non-believers believe that prayers that are answered are pure strokes of luck. Non-believers use this selective answering of prayers as one of their proofs against god; they ask: Why are some sincere, well-intentioned, and desperate prayers unanswered? I came up with some possible answers for this question, and one of these answers gives this post its name. The answers:

The sincere believer’s answer (my assumption)

Because this is how it was meant to be. God doesn’t always give you everything you want; there must be a good reason why your prayer has not been answered; maybe God has better plans for you. Just have faith.

My answer

Well, this is not really an answer but something I was contemplating and found appealing. If God exists, I don’t believe He has a supercomputer to process all supplications and allot receivables to each stakeholder according to merit. It’s easier to imagine God being a little inefficient, and thus He doesn’t answer your prayer because it is still enqueued in Wishamp.

An alternative explanation that I found appealing is that God doesn’t decide the final outcome of the prayer and what each stakeholder in the prayer should get in the end. He probably just tweaks the probabilities in favour of the person praying, and thus if your prayer is not answered, it just means the probability has not worked in your favour. For example, if you roll a die praying to God that you get a number between 1 and 3, God might just bias the die against 4,5, or 6 so that the probability of your winning increases from ½ to 3/5. You might still lose the game, but your prayer has not gone unanswered. Thinking about God this way naturally leads one to wonder how much influence God has over these probabilities. Will more fervent praying bring the probability closer to 1? On the other hand, is it possible that God works within the realms of probability and the laws of nature, and thus has no real power to tweak either?

The other problem with analyzing prayers is that they are often not object-oriented. In fact, true devotees will tell you that it’s selfish to pray for something specific, and that we should pray regularly without a selfish motive. The problem is, the benefits of this genre of selfless prayers are tough to ascertain, unless we can create a parallel identical universe where we can test the consequences of not praying. For most believers, benefits do not matter because the process of praying gives them a contentment and sense of fulfillment that make prayer-analysis and stupid calculations of probability irrelevant. I cannot, and will not make an attempt to, shake this belief in prayers- people are entitled to indulge in whatever makes them feel good irrespective of their truth-value.

Destiny vs. God

The trade-off between destiny and God has always puzzled me. Most believers in God also believe in destiny, which essentially means they believe what happens to us is part of a grand cosmic plan that has been written at the start of time (the “honi ko kaun taal sakta hai” school of thought). So if you believe in destiny, and you also believe in God’s power to make things happen, it means you believe God can alter destiny. If you don’t believe that, praying serves no practical purpose. The problem is, since none of us knows our destiny, we can never conclusively prove God’s ability to change it- this lack of knowledge is the ideal breeding ground for all manners of faiths and superstitions such as wearing rings and amulets, and performing pujas and havans. But most believers nowadays don’t consider destiny sacrosanct; they know astrologers’ predictions are fallible, and use destiny only as a crutch in times of distress, which I think is pretty fair.

The What-if believers

There are those who believe in God, but do so mainly because they are unsure of His existence. These people pray because if He does exist, why take a chance? After all, it just takes a few minutes of our time every day or every week. Till very recently, I counted myself in this category. But as I started contemplating and reading more on the subject, I felt less and less sure about God’s existence.

Why I have almost pulled the shutters down on belief

Multiple Gods

The things that make me most unsure of God’s power are the multiple identities of God, the friction between these multiple identities, and our belief that He is omnipotent, omniscient, and omnipresent. When we say God is omnipotent, omnipresent, and omniscient, whose God are we talking about? Are there many o-o-o Gods fighting for this space, or is there only one God, as we all claim? We all know different religions originated at different points in time. Are the Gods of these religions avtars of the first God thus being consistent with him in some way, or were the new Gods free to expand their reign and challenge the authority of the existing Gods? When a war is fought in the name of religion, is it actually a proxy war between two Gods? That is, are Hindu-Muslim riots actually cosmic duels between Allah and Ram? And what of intra-religion warfare like the Sunni-Shia conflicts?

One God

And if there is only one God, how does He tolerate a Hindu leader masterminding a riot against Muslims because of a suspected Muslim hand in the burning of a train? How does He tolerate one group of Muslims branding people of other communities infidels, bombing them, and getting away with it? How does He tolerate one group of Christians printing lewd material about Hindu Gods, and in return how does He tolerate Hindus raping nuns and razing churches to the ground? How does he tolerate Bhindranwale’s men firing shots on the Harmandir Sahib, and subsequently tolerate some people calling Bhindranwale the eleventh Sikh guru? How does he tolerate men being executed for blasphemy, women being stoned to death for defying His strictures, and women being abused and assaulted for going against Hindu “culture”? If in these moments of crises, especially in crises caused by clashes over His identity, God can do nothing but watch people die and property burn, will we be wrong in assuming that God is just a figment of our imagination? And that if he does exist, he has little influence over what happens on earth, and is really just a slave of nature and of man’s perception?

The Last Word

I think imagining a world without God makes things simple. Things happen because circumstances make them happen, and each of those circumstances arise because of other sets of circumstances. That some of these circumstances coincide and lead to a particular event can be either due to human design or due to the vagaries of luck. Thus, if I walk out of my house today and get run over by a car, it’s a purely random event caused by the chance presence of the car and Akshay at the same point in space-time. It’s not because God intended to end my innings on earth and begin the driver’s behind bars, and facilitated this eventuality by finishing my stock of shaving cream and forcing a baaraat through Road A so that the driver had to use the road I was crossing.

God might exist, and I really am not as much concerned about the fact of His existence as I am about the power we think He wields. The notion most people have of God is of a friend, philosopher, and guide; of a hope and an inspiration in times of distress; and of a gentle, compassionate, and all-embracing entity. This notion is sustainable and harmless; and it doesn’t depend on the existence of God. The Calvins of the world need their Hobbes. It’s only when people start killing each other and doing other crazy things in the name of God is one forced to think whether the whole fuss about God is worth it. I don’t think it is. I don’t think a person with an atheistic upbringing in atheistic surroundings will ever feel the presence of or be able to visualize a power that is watching every step he takes- in other words, he will never need or miss God. If God exists and is reading this post, I want to assure Him that I am not disrespecting his role in making people’s lives better- it’s just that till I am completely convinced of his powers, I prefer to follow my gut and stay an agnost. I’m sure God will excuse this temporary suspension of belief.

I have a lot more opinions on this subject, but they have been articulated so beautifully by Richard Dawkins, that writing them in my own words here seems pointless. This post might sound very immature and even laughable to many believers. The fact is, these are my current thoughts on the subject, and I am far from convinced about them. I hope to read a lot more and either stand firmer on my ground or shift to the believers’ ground a happy man.

Caught in the Web

103 days and counting...

The Aks Effect

Misquote the Quote Contest

Thanks to dear Ramalinga Raju, we now have another immortal quote:

"It was like riding a tiger, not knowing how to get off without being eaten."

I now invite you to modify this quote in your own funny ways and post it in the comments section.

For example:

It was like driving a stolen car, not knowing how to get out without being beaten.

or

It was like watching a Barjatya film, not knowing how to come out without feeling outdated.

Twist it any way you like and make us laugh.

Knee-jerk Reactions

New Year Resolutions

211 x 79



400 X 150



466 x 174

As the dust settles

All this has been said already. Plus, it's over 2000 words long. If you have something better to do, don't bother reading. I've split the story up under different headings. There's no real flow; you can skip an entire section without missing much.

Reactions to 26/11 in the US

Unless you've been swimming with penguins in Antarctica or have been tied up and blindfolded under the deck of a Somali ship, you probably are neck-deep in reports of the Mumbai attacks. My colleagues, whose knowledge about India spans Gandhi and curry, started asking me about Mumbai everyday. (One of them even doubted the accuracy of my information- "You said Bombay, CNN said Mumbai", he alleged.) The more curious ones with bitten nails and scratched scalps asked me how to pronounce Lashkar-e-Toiba, and went on to try pronouncing it when I coached them with the patience of a Feynman in an LKG classroom. Their best attempt- Lashkar rhymed with Nascar, e was too short to screw-up, and Toiba sounded like Toshiba with the sh silent. It was part amusing, part cute. I could spend all day listening to their renditions of Lashkar-e-Toiba. Still, I really appreciate their concern, and the discussions we've had on terrorism are a pleasant alternative to the debates on TV. They have a simple solution to the menace of terror- "Stop negotiatin', just kill 'em or bomb 'em or some-um."

Aside: A word on some-um: Most Americans don't say 'something'; they either stop at 'some', or follow 'some' with a gulp, like they're swallowing something that flew in when they said 'some'- the net result sounds like some-um. I was so taken up by this, that I’ve started saying it too when I talk to them.*


Netagiri

If there was one thing you wouldn't want to be during the entire Mumbai episode, it must be a politician. The media aimed its mics and the public aimed its Gangaajal at every politician who spoke up. While RR Patil chose the wrong forum to rattle off a DDLJ-style dialogue (the bade bade sheheron mein one), we had Shivraj Patil, the chairman of IPL**, who displayed admirable bravado while cocooned in a nest of commandoes ("They can't scare us"), Manmohan Singh who could've done better with a few hundred cups of coffee (and stop being a Deve Gowda with eyes open), Vilasrao Deshmukh who will never again invite his son's friend to accompany him, and Milind Deora who admitted he was ashamed of being a politican. There were other serious and, in an evil sense, hilarious blunders by our netas. Mukhtar Abbas Naqvi lashed out at women wearing lipstick and powder for insulting politicians in western sabhyata, and Achuthanandan showed his contempt for canines when late Major Unnikrishnan's father drove him out complete with his mundu, soda glasses, and sniffer dogs. Poor Achu doesn't know that he went to Major’s house only after the dogs did. The other Patil, the one on Raisina Hill, stayed away from the media and quietly went to visit the victims. Advani, the new moderate in Indian politics condemned the attacks, promised not to make it a poll issue, and went campaigning the next day. As promised, he didn't bring up the Mumbai attacks. All he said was "Afzal Guru agar Anand Mohan hota ya Anand Singh hota to ab tak phaansi pe chadh chuka hota." It's like calling you a sick bastard after promising not to call you stupid.

There was something nostalgic about the resignations of Shivraj Patil, Deshmukh, and RR Patil. It took me back to early 2004, when Sonia Gandhi transported antaraatma from clunky Bollywood into mainstream political vocabulary. Some try to disguise it as 'inner voice' or 'aatma ki aawaaz', but don't be mistaken- it's all from the same reservoir of collective conscience Sonia inaugurated that famous day.


Sena Sena you said it to me

While Mumbai was under siege, two of its greatest self-proclaimed culture chowkidars were conspicuous by their absence. While Udhav Thackeray was probably in some non-descript village marketing his Shiv vada pav, Raj, chairman of the other IPL***, was possibly scouting for FMIs (Foreign Marathi Investors) to invest in Raj Kachorikar. Of course, the VP of MNS, between furtive mouthfuls of Congress's kanda poha, said that Mumbai was too crowded to catch the terrorists. Will somebody please inform him Qasab didn't huddle four Biharis around him and shoot between their legs? As one blogger said, no one expected Raj to pick up a gun and storm the Taj, but he could have helped with relief efforts outside- it would have even made sense as a political stunt.


Pick a dialogue

If you put all our politicians in separate rooms and ask them their favourite Hindi movie dialogue, 90% will say, “Chand khudgarz neta ke kaaran hamaari poori kaum badnaam hoti hai”. The public today is so disenchanted with the political fraternity that the very word politics, as opposed to a few corrupt practitioners of the art, is the rogue we have gagged, draped with a blanket, and beaten to pulp. This is unhealthy- politics is not dispensable, some politicians are, and the sooner our angry junta realizes this, the better. Also, I don’t know why Advani promised to not use terror as a poll issue (though, as I mentioned earlier, he broke it). If your party has to come to power, you have to not only show what you’re good at but also criticize what the opposition is bad at; even though you might have been equally bad at it in the past. The problem with BJP is not that it raised the issue of terror; the problem is that it just said “Say no to terror. Vote for BJP.” Even a rough draft of how it would tackle terror if voted in, would’ve helped immensely. Terror can be handled by a good government. If I am a voter, I will be extremely interested in knowing how a party plans to deal with terror, not just that it will deal with it. In any case, it must be an integral part of all political campaigns.


India’s Skewrty Forces

This is both the average North Indian’s pronunciation of Security Forces, and the nature of distribution of the said Forces. While Ismail, Qasab, and co. had to fight brave but ill-equipped and ill-numbered policemen, Mayawati was snoring under the vigil of the 350 policemen in charge of keeping mosquitoes and assailants away from her. While she might have an excuse being the CM of India’s most lawless state, what about Amar Singh? How many of you know he was upgraded to Z+ status in exchange for his support to the UPA government during the trust vote tamasha? The UPA traded NSG commandoes for votes; the worst case of corruption at the highest level. Read this article for more about the skew in our security forces.


India's 9/11

We love comparing. No sooner did debutant Zaheer Khan york a Kenyan tail-ender than comparisons with Wasim Akram begin. The moment trailers of Refugee were released, Abhishek Bachchan's eyes, smile, and jaw structure were pitted against Amitabh's. I'm sure the day Preity Zinta has a daughter, people will run behind her dimples with Vernier calipers. The Mumbai saga too had its share of match the followings. India's 9/11- somebody (I assume it's the media. Please correct me.) coined this, popularised it, and started drawing comparisons to the 9/11 attacks. People vehemently denied this link, and some reluctantly supported it, without realizing how utterly pointless the whole exercise was. Will Archimedes run out naked from his bathtub in heaven? Will Osama surrender in awe? Will the US finance the repairs to the Taj and Trident? Will Mohamed Atta be brought back to life and sentenced to death?


Tu Tu Main Main

While getting celebs to play panelist-panelist in primetime debates is a sure shot TRP pump, uninformed panelists can make real asses of themselves. A case in point- in a recent debate, Simi Garewal said, "Go to the Four Seasons and look down from the top floor at the slums around you. Do you know what flags you will see? Not the Congress', not the BJP's, not the Shiv Sena's. Pakistan! Pakistani flags fly high!" with the kind of certainty Heisenberg never had. She later apologised when she was informed that those were actually flags of Islam; but the damage was done. I fail to understand why it is so important to know celebrities' views on a topic like this- I mean why would you make Ratna Pathak Shah (Sarabhai vs Sarabhai, Jaane Tu Ya Jaane Na), Kunal Kohli (Fanaa, Hum Tum), Luke Kenny (Rob in Rock On), and Simi Garewal debate on national television, that too in the same show? The media was also very concerned when Shahrukh Khan did not give his opinion on the subject. When he finally decided to open up, NDTV and IBN were in raptures. His opinion (video), when it was finally aired, was the most realistic and appropriate coming from a public figure. He said he kept mum because he was scared that something he said might exacerbate an already tense and sensitive situation. Simple and elegant- his views were not essential during the turmoil, and he was sensitive enough to realize that. Hats off, SRK (Zyaada udna mat. I think you totally suck in Rab Ne...trailers).



Saare sabooton ko madde nazar rakhte hue ...

ye electorate Shiela Dikshit ko apna CM chunti hai. BJP really hoped the Mumbai attacks would dent Congress's prospects in the assembly elections, but not only did the latter retain Delhi, it also wrested Rajasthan from Raje. It was good to see the BJP graciously accepting defeat and choosing to introspect rather than to ransack the IIMS****. While the elections announced the arrival of the BSP on the big stage, an ex- saffronian had to eat humble rajma chawal. Uma Bharti vowed to quit active politics if the BJP retained MP, so it's now time to see if her vow was a vow or a bow-wow. The biggest surprise though, was Delhi. Sheila Dikshit has shielded her seat marvelously, amid the mayhem of raped tourists and adventurous remarks (especially considering her name almost scrambles to Shit Ka Shield).


Our political saviour

First, he uttered it in the US. It swept across the Atlantic, whispered over the Sahara, gained speed over the Persian Gulf, and finally hit Mumbai 3 days after Qasab and his comrades did. If it had reached a week earlier it would have been echoed back to where it came from, but the timing was perfect. Yes, Indians too want change now. And we're not talking about policies this time; we're talking people. We were tolerant till as recently as November 24th when Mulayam Singh distributed kadak sau rupay notes to everybody listening to his campaign speech. But now, we're going the BCCI way- get the young blood in. Though Krantiveer-II would have Nana Patekar smashing nails (video) and mixing old and young blood to prove us wrong, it's unlikely the demand for younger netas is going to die down soon. We have a few star kids in politics- Milind Deora, Navin Jindal, Sachin Pilot, Supriya Sule, Priyanka Gandhi, and of course, Rahul Gandhi. Of all these, Rahul seems to be taking the longest strides and he's doing it the hard way. From what I read and see on NDTV, I think he has his heart in the right place, and is sending out the right signals to the youth. But no; the media will not let him develop into a leader. They will coin him India's poitical saviour and raise the bar before he even stands on his feet. The article, as you might have seen, just asks people who should be in power. The headline is a really cheap trick -with or without the question mark- and puts undue pressure on a promising novice, much like (as I said earlier about comparisons) Ambati Rayudu was hailed the next Sachin even before he played his first Ranji match.

Beating history projects

I know, I know; this post is longer than ICSE History projects and I don't even have erotic paintings and sculptures for relief. There's so much more I want to say, but I realize all good things must come to an end, and all bad things must be brought to one, depending on whether you're nodding your head in agreement or jerking it in inertia after reading this. Most of what I want to say is already being said- stuff about diplomacy with Pakistan, bombing terrorist camps, going to war, etc.; so I have very little incentive to write. For now, please keep the comments flowing :)

*A note to my friends in India- if you ever hear me swallow a syllable, lacerate my tongue when you meet me (or say main tumhaari zabaan kheench doonga in Sarfarosh style. See video near 3:20), or send me spam mail if you don't.

**Ineffective Politicians’ League

***Intimidating Politicians’ League

****Infinite Inventory for Mud Slingers