Life hasn’t exactly been a bed of roses for me. Especially over the past month. The going just got tough all of the sudden. Before I knew it, crisis loomed large and engulfed me in a veritable storm of sorts — a storm that’s quite likely to stay on for a long long time.

This isn’t the first time things have gone bad for me. I’ve lived through worse situations. Can’t say that I came out unscathed all the time. Each bad phase has left an indelible scar. Some scars still hurt, pain bringing back memories from the past. Each bout of pain has one startling similarity with its predecessor — the element of surprise. But that’s the beauty of life, it hits you on your belly right when you’re gaily indulging yourself.

One thing I’ve realized while swimming through a vast ocean of problems is the potency of optimism.

Optimism is a powerful sword that can cut through life’s many adversities with ease. It’s a rejuvenating principle that charges you up, and equips you for the worst while expecting the best. Optimism is all about seeing opportunities in every problem. Yes, every crisis is an opportunity in disguise. Even the most seemingly-dismal of adversities could turn favourable in the long run. But how often do we realize this? We fret more about our problems, doing little to solve them. We beat about the bush in careless mourning, wasting valuable time instead of taking control of the situation to make our ends meet.

Being positive when the going gets tough helps us focus more on our problems. Just believing that greener pastures aren’t far away is all you need to do. Trust me, happier days aren’t far away. All your problems are temporary, it’s only a matter of time until they ward themselves off. Days, weeks, months or years later, you’ll look back at your problems and smile at how silly they were. Nobody can make a lock without a key; likewise, every problem has its solution. To smith the key to your lock, you’ll have to mould it with patience. And patience has a direct relation with a positive attitude.

As someone rightly said, the happiness of your mind depends on the quality of your thought. Negative thoughts pull you down, deep down into the ditches. Positive thoughts lift you up, high up, onto the pedestal of happiness and inner peace.

So, be positive.

Like me.

Related posts:

1. I lost my posts! So, I rant! :-D

The other day, my cousin and I were planning to go for a movie. My cousin, Shambhu, is a ‘Madrasi’ – he’s doing his medicine at a Chennai Medical College and was back home on vacation. He asked me about the latest flicks running in the local theatres. I recommended ‘Cocktail’. I’d seen the movie and loved it. “Er… Is that even a movie?” he asked. I gave him a brief outline about the Jayasoorya, Anoop Menon starrer. He butted-in before I could complete.

“Whoa… whoa… Dude, I’m talking Tamil/Hindi movies here. NOT crap Malayalam flicks. Didn’t I tell you that I’ve stopped watching ‘em?”

I wasn’t too shocked — the typical Chennai Champ, our friend was just throwing attitude. He’s certainly going to retract his statement once I gave him a brief idea about the movie, and its suspense. Or so I thought.

Turns out that Shambhu meant every word of what he said. He’d rather sit at home and  watch Sun TV rather than drag his ass to the theatres to “waste fourty bucks for a drab three-hour weepathon”.

“Malayalam movies are dead, period. And I don’t attend funerals,” he gave me a hand-gesture, Rajni-iShtyle.

If my cousin — a once-hardcore-Mammootty-fan could go thus far (Rajni’s wigs are way better than Mammookka’s, he quips these days); there’s indeed something seriously wrong with our Industry. And my cousin’s just one among the many (almost-countless) naysayers.

So what’s wrong with the Malayalam Film Industry?

1. Lack of Good Films in the market – Let’s face it, Malayalam movies are simply not appealing any more. Apart from masterpieces like ‘Pranjiyettan and the saint’, how many films good films can you count in the past few years? Three, or maybe four max. There ends it. Ours was a film industry which churned out films that  consistently featured in the Indian Panorama and went on to win national and even international film awards. But that’s history now. Talented filmmakers are still there, but they’re simply not coming up with good movies or not working on movies at all. We’ve also entered the ‘rip-off’ culture. Directors like Priyadarsan have ripped-off in the past, but they’ve done it with elan. Current rip-offs like ‘Anwar’ and ‘Cocktail’ may be doing good in the box office, yet many critics have panned them. Commercialization is a tsunami that has taken the industry by storm. So we’ve sequels of previously-successful movies (think Balram v/s Tharadas, Sagar Alias Jacky, In Ghost House Inn) and pure commercial crop (Puthiya Mukham, Robin Hood et al). Our producers are pulling all stops in making films succeed. They end up burning their fingers badly and ruining our industry too.
2. Increased Failure Rate - The few good movies that make it to the theatres suffer fatal losses. On an average, less than ten percent of the movies releasing in theatres set the cash registers ringing. With increased production costs, and plummetting revenues, producers find it hard to make ends meet. Many producers shut shop and move on to other businesses. The ones that have moved on are the lucky few, there are many others who’ve taken to the streets, forced by debtors to pawn their very clothing. All for the sole ‘mistake’ of financing a film. Wary of accumulating failures, the community of producers is fast-dwindling.
3. The Superstar System - Our ‘superstars’ could certainly learn a lesson or two from Amitabh Bachchan and Rajnikanth. While Bachchan-saab endears audiences with his charismatic charm and humility in KBC4, Rajnikanth walks and talks amid commoners as if he were a nobody. Our superstars go on to throw attitude and slap people in public. I’m a huge fan of our superstars. But many of their actions have crossed the limit. They must stop ghost-directing movies, and leave their attitude aside, while acting in movies. With their overwhelming attitudes out of the picture, Malayalam moviedom would go a long way in sculpting a success-story.
4. Competition from other languages - This excuse has forever come to the rescue of our directors explaining why their films were panned. One could have argued against it in the past. Not any more. Hindi, Tamil and English are making hay in Kerala, while the sun of our film industry is on the wane. These industries are not doing exceptionally well themselves. Bollywood and the Tamil Film industry are also seeing plenty of losses. But our viewers find time to watch these flicks. I can safely say that smart marketing is the reason. Tamil and Bollywood movies have the budget to afford extravagant scenes shot in exotic locales, a liberty our flicks can’t afford. Coupled with brilliant actors and directors, these movies rake moolah in our shores, overshadowing our shoddily-sculpted movies. It also hurts the Malayalam movies have a limited market, when compared to these exquisitely-mastered flicks.
5. Piracy - Bootlegging is as old as movies. And it suits the laidback Malayalee attitude. The typical Malayalee is way too lazy to drag his/her ass to the theatres. He’d rather have the movie on his television screen, even if it’s of a shoddy quality. When a  new Malayalam movie does its television premiere in a festive season, the entire family crowds around the 32″ LCD TV, to watch the flick in HD, complete with stereophonic sound. With the arrival of torrents, piracy has gone an extra mile. You can now lay your hands on the Blu-Ray rip of a two-month old movie, in three-hours time. What more does the Malayalee want?

One should actually give the industry a pat-on-the-back for having survived all these odds. We still have producers (many of them actors themselves) who are willing to foot the bill for a movie, half-sure that they’d go knee-deep in debt, once it’s out. As long as the dwindling, never-acknowledged community of producers  exist, our industry shall live on. Perhaps, they’ll find a work-around, perhaps we might get to see many a ‘Pranjiyettan’on the screens from now on.

No, our Industry is NOT dead yet. And let’s pray that it shall never ever die.

Related posts:

1. To Did. – A short film
2. Google’s environment film project: Home
3. Into Malayalam Blogging…

For a while, Journalism was my dream career.

It all started with ‘We the people’ – the famous talk show from NDTV 24×7.  I started watching the show on my English teacher’s recommendation. Barkha had a lot in common with DP, or so felt my twelfth-grader-self. Like  every other hat-tip from the teacher, I took her words seriously. Soon, I was hooked into the show. The way Barkha interacted with the audience, the way she carried herself and the way she articulated… only a journalist could put herself across that way. I wanted to be like Barkha.

The adulation for Barkha had me worshipping Prannoy Roy himself. Without realizing the fact, I was gradually getting addicted to television journalism. From Anderson Cooper to Larry King, from Spencer Kelly to Rajiv Makhni, from Rajdeep Sardesai to Arnab Mukherji, from Nikesh Kumar to Venu; I knew (and respected) them all.

By the end of 2006, even as I deliberately fell prey to the booby-trap named ‘Engineering’, I yearned to be one among my idols. I wanted to be a a journalist.

Before I knew it, Engineering was over and I was as clueless (and jobless) as I were before joining Engineering. Even the CAT dream – which kept me alive for long, went awry. That was when the idea of journalism shone before me once again. A job offer from the fast-growing regional-web-portal beckoned me with both arms. The pay wasn’t great – even call center employee friends of mine made more. Not that I cared. Miniscule as it was, I wanted the pay. I had the occasional expense to take care of, and it was far more than what I needed.

Before I knew it, I’d  become a reporter.

As the proverbial cliche goes, I swept cleaner than the average-new-broom. I knew for one that it would take years to sculpt a Prannoy Roy. At least I was doing what I was passionate about; I was writing to my heart’s content. Google Analytics said that 20% of this web portal’s viewers were from America, Europe and the Gulf Countries. The world read what I wrote.

My first news story was about the absence of buses plying through a particular route in the city. I researched a lot for my first story. Reticent by nature, I struck up a conversation with as many people as I could, for ‘perspective’. From autodrivers minting money from the situation to schoolchildren directly affected by it, I spared no one in my quest for the ‘perfect story’. At the end of the day, I offered myself a smile as I noticed my story adorn the front page in the web portal.

I loved my job. My coworkers were the best I could ask for, fun-loving and friendly. Office politics was unheard-of. Everybody was friends with each other. We even had a ‘Chief Fun Officer’, who would be in charge of fun-activities, planning many a lighter moment. I adored fellow-members of my editorial. Our editor was a man with the heart of gold. They were like my siblings. We would even hang out after a long day’s work, discussing life, politics and literature over cups of tea.

We had the weekly editorial meeting where each of us discussed our stories. Our accolades were explained to us, and our mistakes were pointed out. It was a learning experience with a difference. The editor’s words evoked a feverish passion in us; it was his call for us to go that extra mile. Many of us followed suit, the others faced the music.  Each of us had our respective ‘beats’. We would write stories about the particular beat, on days assigned to us. Meeting deadlines was the key. Then there was number of stories — we had to write a certain number of stories a month. Explanation would be sought for, if the deadline was not kept. If you strive and set the bar high for your peers, good for you. You stand the chance of getting an appraisal. It was competitive world out there.

Quoting my editor, I was the quintessential ‘armchair journalist’ — a term I learned to loathe. I hated large public gatherings — I was always left solitary in the crowd. The lack of a vehicle proved an obstacle to travel to places far and wide, for reporting.  I found myself in a spot. Despite efforts from my part, I couldn’t arrange a vehicle every time, and that had me relying on buses. I learned the bitter lesson that a story ceases to remain a story, once it has passed its time. Journalism for me was a race against time. If there was a function or a meeting, I had to rush to the venue in a jiffy. I had to fish out my (dysfunctional) camera and click pictures (The portal trusted the photographic skills of us, poor reporters). I had to filter relevant points from truckloads of crap; I had to find points amid mindless rhetoric.

Who said Journalism was an easy job?

Each journalist carries a bulky-baggage of responsibilities and expectations. In these days of new media, anyone can be a journalist; you just need to have a solid eye and a strong pen. But the buck does not end there. The challenge lies in putting across what you see/hear to the masses. A journalist weaves the story for a reader. How/What the reader perceives depends on how the journalist puts it across – the responsibility is tremendous, I realized. Journalism is all about getting yourself noticed. If you didn’t have it, you lost it. What? The eyeballs.

All good things must come to an end. I’d had my share of journalism, and it was time to move on. As I walked out of my (erstwhile) office, collecting my last paycheck, I did feel that smack of pain — the pain of eventuality, the pain of leaving something you love…

I miss being a journalist.

But I’m a writer. NOT a journalist.

Related posts:

1. A page from my dream diary…

I’ve been in a dilemma ever since I was ‘enfranchised’  - The dilemma of choosing the right candidate.

Image Courtesy: lakelandlocal

I’m a sucker for elections. They bring out the news-junkie in me. Normally, I wouldn’t give a rat’s ass about politics, but the ‘citizen’ in me gets a wake up call the day they announce elections. I used to closely follow elections be it local, state or even national right from childhood. I’d keep myself glued to TV and keep myself updated about election proceedings. The democratization of internet made things easier for me.

When I collected the Voter’s ID card (which had my name misspelled and my address wrong), my hands trembled in excitement. I didn’t mind having a wrong address or a wrong name printed on a prestigious identification document — I was too ecstatic to notice.

But the ecstacy didn’t last long; I now had a major responsibility on my head — I had to choose my leader. And my vote did make a difference. Now, that unnerved me. I was never a man of quick choices. I had to analyse things down to the last detail before I take any decision. ‘Voting’, essentially a ‘decision making process’, wasn’t really my cup of tea, I realized.

Before I knew it, I was part of the process – The 2009 General Elections had arrived. But thankfully, my constituency was endowed with an intelligent and charismatic candidate and I heaved a sigh of relief. The elections were over, the candidate I voted for won and went on to be a Union Minister. I was happy.

Only until the dates of the Local Body Elections were announced.

Now, I was in a fix.

Especially considering the fact that I do not owe allegiance to any political party as such.

Technically, choosing the ideal candidate for a local election is way easier than the same for a state or parliament election, since the representatives would be friends or at least acquaintances. I knew one of the candidates, the incumbent – she knew me from childhood and used to strike an occasional conversation with me when I was a kid. Apart from her, I hadn’t seen or heard about none of the candidates before. Hence, I thought I’d make an informed decision.

Thus, I commenced the process of background-search.

The brief stint with journalism helped. In classic Tehelka style, I conversed with as many people as possible, in my quest to find the right candidate. I had narrowed down on three candidates, avoiding many of the independants. Independant candidates were either people with deep pockets trying to evade tax, or jobless passers-by trying their hand at a political career.

Mine being a ‘women’s ward’, all candidates in my ward are females – and three of my ‘choices’ were poles apart. From a ‘practicing lawyer’ (read: jobless housewife with LLB) to a ‘people’s mascot’ (read: yet to pass tenth grade), the spectrum was quite wide, indeed. Despite the differences, I couldn’t reach a conclusion regarding whom to vote for.  Conflicting opinions, conflicting evaluations… If one candidate had a good point, she would have a vicious negative too. If another candidate had good track record, glaring allegations of corruption propped up.

The end result? I was as clueless as a third grade kid as I woke up on the election day.

All the research and the thought-process went astray. I wasn’t this confused when I started. I’d have made a better decision, had I not gone for the lengthy evaluation. Lesson Learned: Too much information spoils the vote.

As we stepped foot into local government school, I slyly asked mom:

“Who’re you voting for, Amma?”

“You know who, mone,” Mom smiled. Mom was going to vote for her friend – the incumbent candidate. I decided to follow suit. After all, this person was educated, young and had enough experience ‘representing’ our ward before. We waited outside the voting room.

After Dad and mom cast their votes, it was my turn. Excitement and patriotism filled every cell of my body — it was my ‘responsible citizen’ moment. I airily walked in, flashed my ID Card (even though they didn’t ask for it), got my finger ‘marked’, signed. The lady at the desk pressed a switch. A beep button emanated from the Electronic Voting Machine. It was all set to receive my vote!

Picturing myself as Ranbir Kapoor from ‘Rajneeti’, I walked to the EVM in slow motion. I could hear the Mortal Kombat Theme playing in background. ‘Choose your destiny’, I almost heard that weird voice giving me the options, as my eyes focussed on the gleaming-white panel of the EVM. It was time.

I pressed the button.

The beep sound was music to my ears. My vote was registered — I was a certified ‘responsible citizen’. Treating myself with a smile, I gave another look at the EVM just to see the red light blinking near my candidate’s name.

The light didn’t blink.

Is the machine faulty? Has it been tampered with? I’d only seen reports of widespread rigging on tv, as I was stepping out. I was enraged. Why do responsible citizens like me have to suffer all the time? I’m going to file a complaint with… OMG.

A light did blink. Another light.

It was the second light from top – the light beside that candidate whom I’d eliminated from my list.

I wasted my vote.

If it weren’t unconstitutional, I’d have ransacked the whole room that very moment. My face turned red — I could actually feel the heat in my cheeks. I was a  criminal. I wasted my vote. I WASTED MY VOTE!

I looked helplessly at the presiding officer. She glared back at me. I asked myself, could this be a mistake with the voting machine? But I knew the answer myself. It wasn’t. I pressed the wrong button, in all the excitement.

Dejected, I trudged out of the room. Another person walked in, as I stepped out of the door. I felt envious – that guy’s going to make the right choice. I was not.

Dad and Mom quizzed me about my vote?

I remained silent. I had the right to do so. Secret ballot.

P.S.

The results came today. The candidate I vote for won – by a miniscule margin.

Yours truly is King Queenmaker.

Related posts:

1. Vote for India!
2. Vote for Shashi Tharoor!
3. Bloggers meet Shashi Tharoor

No related posts.

“Khaike paan banaras waala,

Khul jaaye band akal ka taala…”

As Amitabh Bachchan’s booming voice, sung (a slightly-tweaked version of) his own popular track, gyrating with thirty-odd beauties, millions of eyeballs applauded. The song-dance sequence by Amitabh officially kicked off the much-awaited fourth edition of Kaun Banega Crorepati.

The studio was a far-cry from the previous studios of the show. Huge pillars added a gothic touch to it – even though the arrangement of the studio remained the same. The new logo of KBC – featuring the new ‘rupee’ sign was emblazoned on the wall. Amitabh walked into the studio from in-between the pillars, with his trademark ‘welcome message’ “Namashkaar, adaam, sat sri akal. Aap sab ko swagat hai, Kaun Banega Crorepati mein!”

As talks about the fourth edition of the country’s most popular game show (which gained immortality through ‘Slumdog Millionaire’) started, there were enough apprehensions. The KBC journey was all downhill – the show progressively plummeted in popularity, season over season. While KBC 1 was shot Star TV to the number 1 slot, Season 2 failed to reach the same level of success, although TRPs hovered around an impressive 9-11. But it had its premature death, with Amitabh falling sick before long. Shah Rukh tried to repeat the AB magic with KBC3, but in vain. Even though the Khan received filmfare awards for the best TV show host and the show was declared the best game show, TRPs did hit rock bottom.

Having burnt its fingers with KBC3, Star TV laid hands off the new edition of India’s most popular game show. Sony Entertainment Television grabbed the opportunity with open arms. Amitabh was back in the reckoning, and the process of ‘return’ started. The core-team had not changed – Sidhartha Basu was still in charge of the groundwork – namely, the questions. There were apprehensions though. With a melange of game shows on TV, would the viewer opt for good-old KBC? The auditions started.

Over 50 lakh people stood in endless queues, and filled endless forms – for that one-on-one with the star of the millenium.

KBC had arrived, once more.

Ten among those 5 million applicants made it to the final round. From a mass communication student to a chef – these ten people hailed from ten different parts of the country, from ten different backgrounds. One of the contestants was a participant in KBC Junior. When informed of the fact, Amitabh jokingly-remarked: “Thank you for making me realize how old I am,” graceful words from a gracious actor!

The contestants had settled down – it was time for the ‘Hot Seat’ question.

“Arrange the following words of this Hindi proverb, in order,” the booming voice instructed.

3.53 seconds later – Rajesh Chauhan, from Jheemar UP, clad in a green shirt and a wide grin, walked onto the hot seat – The lucky first participant of KBC4. “Chale hum, aur aap khelte hai Kaun Banega Crorepati,” Amitabh’s voice echoed with a magical boom. Chauhan, who runs a general store, said that he has been preparing to attend the show for over a decade.

Slight changes were made to the KBC format, to keep with the times. Like the previous editions of KBC, this one also has 12 questions, with prize money starting from 1,000, going on to 1 Crore.  Amitabh announced a surprise package later on – there was a 13th ‘jackpot’ question too, which would give the winner a whopping 5 Crore. The first two questions had a time limit of 30 seconds (The ‘Khadiya-babu’, takes a side-seat with ‘Computer-ji) – the question stands cancelled if participants fail to answer it on time. The remaining questions will have a time limit of 45 seconds, until the 7th question – after which, ‘Khadiya-babu’ remains suspended. The prize money-increments remain the same, however.

The ‘lifelines’ have been slightly tweaked – There are a total of four lifelines, this time. The first three – ‘Audience Poll’, ‘Phone a friend’ and ‘Ask an Expert’ – will be available throughout the game. ‘Ask  an expert’ is a new ‘lifeline’ – where experts on a domain will be assisting contestants, with their questions. The fourth-lifeline is a modification of 50/50 – the ‘Double Dip’. It will only be available to contestants after the seventh question (after winning the 3,20,000 price). In double dip – a contestant can answer twice. That is, he could answer wrong once, and get away with it, only to try a second time. Quite interesting.

Charu Sharma was the ‘expert’ for Episode 1. Through videoconferencing (apparently – it could even been an earlier recording), he wished Amitabh a happy birthday (the show was telecast on Amit-ji’s birthday) and Chauhan good luck. Chauhan had a surprise in store – his favourite actor, Sanjay Dutt was with Charu, on the screen. Chauhan was enamored with surprise. So much for being the first contestant in the country’s most popular game show!

Soon, the game began.

Chauhan, a wide-eyed village dweller appeared calm and confident. His preparation showed, and his answers were quick and spot-on. From easily identifying the “orange city of india” (Nagpur), to presciently realizing the chess piece occupying the maximum position (pawn), Rajesh Chauhan enjoyed a dream run. He was not sure about India’s first spaceship to moon – and needed a lifeline to opt for ‘Chandrayaan 1′.  Charu Sharma helped him out with the seventh question, telling him that NREGA was named after none other than the father of our nation – Mahatma Gandhi.

Rajesh Chauhan made Rs 3,20,000.

Amitabh had twelve cheque leaves ready for each contestant – signing cheques as rounds passed. Chauhan had bagged his 3,20,000 cheque. That was when Amitabh broke the 5 crore ‘jackpot’ prize that was kept under the hood until then. The crowd was euphoric, and Chauhan was tensed – now he had to get home with the 5 crore.

Bachchan shot his eighth question – Rajesh had to identify what these four were: Gyaneshwari, Lichchavi, Gorakhdham and Sarayu. After a lot of thought, Chauhan correctly identified Lichchavi and Sarayu as rivers and went for the same option. Bachchan quizzed him repeatedly: “Is this your final answer?” Chauhan nodded.

He was wrong.

The four are express trains plying through the country – and the four suffered accidents over the past year.

Chauhan’s face wilted in disappointment. Probably realizing that every emotion of his was being captured by ten-odd cameras, he doubled up and smiled – smilingly accepting his 3,20,000 cheque (30% of which, he’d be losing to the Income Tax department).

The show was not over for Chauhan. Before he could bat an eyelid, lo and behold, Sanjay Dutt walks into the studio! Rajesh was overcome with happiness – and Sanjay gave a warm ‘jaadu ki chappi’ to the general store-propreiter. Together, Sanjay and Rajesh sung ‘Happy Birthday’ to Amitabh, and both of them left the studio.

It was time for the next ‘Fastest Finger first’ – and the nine remaining contestants peered onto the television screens. This time, the contestants had to arrange members of the ‘Kapoor’ family in decreasing age. Only 3 got it right, and Alok Kumar, from Orissa did it in a little over 5 seconds. This dude, a self proclaimed quizzer, was severely hit by the ‘heat’ of the hot seat. Tensed to the core, Alok was un-nerved, and used up both his lifelines in the first three questions. Before Amitabh could ask the fourth question, the famed ‘KBC alarm’ rang – and the show was over, one and a half hours later.

KBC-1 was all about seeing the charm and charisma of the Big B in the small screen. Season over season, the charm wilted out. The Shah Rukh effect, maybe – it was a pleasure to watch Bollywood’s biggest superstar on the small screen, once again. The wait to see Bachchan-saab on television was indeed reminiscent of the same feeling I all went through, ten years back. Big B is bigger, KBC has changed (a new logo, a new format and a new channel) – but the charm and the appeal remains the same. KBC4 has nothing new to offer, it’s the same old wine – which now tastes better, having aged by ten years. KBC4 is not just a trip back to memory lane; it maybe reworked trivia quiz – at times a tad too trivial, but it’s a show that affects you. It’s one show, that you’ll be able to recall – scene-by-scene, question-by-question.

Do watch Kaun Banega Crorepati 4 on Sony Entertainment Television, every Monday – Thursday, at 9 PM.

Especially, those of you who missed out on the earlier avatars – you’re gonna love it, trust me.

Image Courtesy: setindia.com, Wikimedia Commons.

Related posts:

1. KBC4: Amitabh Bachchan’s Birthday Gift
2. Kites: A Review
3. Dabangg: A Review

Amitabh Bachchan personifies versatility.

Only few people have donned the roles of an actor, producer, TV Show Host, Playback singer, and even a politician - and that too with smashing success and elan.

His booming voice – once rejected by All India Radio, has reached iconic proportions. The true celebrity of our country, Mr. Bachchan is characterized by an instinctive charisma and an innate humility that no one in his position could have.

Amitabh Bachchan celebrates his 68th birthday today on October 11th, 2010.

Mr. Bachchan even has a birthday-present for his millions of fans across the globe – Kaun Banega Crorepati 4. The show that reversed his once-ailing fortunes… his lucky charm. The show characterised another side of Amitabh – the human side. It showcased his humility and his knowledge. He was a candid, calm and comforting host – well aware that the fortunes of those in the ‘hot seat’ opposite him, lay safe in his hands.

With minutes left for Kaun Banega Crorepati 4 to air on Sony Entertainment Television (the program starts at 9.00 PM IST – today), one is reminded of the ill-fated stint of its previous edition featuring Shah Rukh Khan. The show started with great fanfare, but nosedived in popularity later-on.  It was the time of the much-written-about Shah Rukh-Amitabh rivalry. And Shah Rukh inheriting Amitabh’s role was considered to be a success on Shah Rukh’s side. However, negative reviews hit KBC3 bad, and Shah Rukh’s charm was no match for Amitabh’s oeuvre.

Anyway, Kaun Banega Crorepati is back, having shifted channels from Star Plus to Sony Entertainment Television.

Let’s wish Amitabh a Happy Birthday, tune into our televisions and accept his birthday wish with grace!

Related posts:

1. Kaun Banega Crorepati – KBC 4: A Review
2. Racism: Some hard facts
3. Is the Malayalam Film Industry Dead, yet?

It’s been a week since the demise of Malayalam music director M.G. Radhakrishnan.

Image Courtesy: mathrubhumi.com

Brother to singer M.G. Sreekumar, Radhakrishnan was a stalwart in the Malayalam Music scene. His tracks had the simplest of tunes. Yet, they would capture every bit of your aural presence and take you to another level. The down-to-earth music director started-off composing music for the All India Radio. After the success of many songs he pioneered for the radio (including a popular radio show teaching music for listeners), he was invited to do the music for the Malayalam movie ‘thampu’. Soon, offers came pouring in, and Radhakrishnan churned out mellifluous tunes for many movies including ‘Manichitrathazhu‘, ‘Agnidevan’, ‘Devasuram‘, ‘Advaitham’, ‘Ananthabhadram‘, et al. He’s bagged the state award twice for ‘Achaneyanenikkishtam’ and ‘Ananthabhadram‘.

I’ve forever been a fan of the musical maestro. I find immense solace in some of his tracks, in times of despair. My favourite MG track is ‘Sooryakireedom‘ from Devasuram – a haunting song that talks about the transcience of death and the uncertainity of life. The news of M.G’s death came a day late to me. M.G. is one of my favorite Music Directors, right after Raveendran. I actually had plans to interview M.G. for the papers, and a friend had even given me his contacts. In that context, the news of his demise pinned me down with despair and shock.

I could not help but offer my tributes to the maestro who has continue to amaze me with his tracks. Here’s my cover a favourite M.G. Track.

Song Name: Vande Mukunda Hare.

Movie: Devasuram (1992)

Singer: M.G. Radhakrishnan

Vande Mukunda Hare | Music Codes

The video of this song has Oduvil Unnikrishnan‘s character (Peringodan Shankara Marar) bids his adieu to buddy Mangalasseri Neelakantan (Mohanlal) – A feudal landlord,who stands wounded and decapitated after an ambush. Marar can’t bear the sight of watching his once-healthy mate now in tatters. The lyrics of the song make references to mythology: Kuchela is bidding goodbye to Lord Krishna, who meets death by a stray arrow after the destruction of Dwarka.

Rest in peace, Radhakrishnan Sir. I know I haven’t done justice to your original rendering, but I’ve tried my best here. We’ll miss you!

Related posts:

1. Kurutham Kettavan – A Malayalam Album With A Difference
2. Google India Comes Up With Music Service With Search
3. Kya Mujhe Pyaar Hai

Jobless or ‘jobbed’, I love Harthals! <3

The Harthal, as you know, is a mass-impasse imposed upon the populace by a group/political-party (or even a random Kanjirappalli Kariyachan) to protest/support/enjoy/rejoice/burst-crackers-for/dance-away-to-celebrate/booze-up-to-commmerate [citation needed]  an issue. The issue could be something as puny as the new government rule that would pull the plug on crores of ‘extra-earnings’ accrued by ‘important people’, or even something drop-dead serious, like the death of a friendly-neighbourhood-mongrel, for instance. The size and proportion of a harthal is as variable as the harthal itself – it could cover a rather huge geographical area like the Oolampaara Metro, renowned for the global H.Q. of Intellectual Stimulation Center™ (ISC), or even a comparatively-tiny place like the sleepy-town of Kochi.

I simply can’t comprehend why people strongly protest Harthals – aren’t you people too happy about a free holiday? Years back, when I was at school, Harthal meant celebration – sitting idylically at home was fun; especially so if the harthal did postpone an exam are two. The Harthal was, is, and shall always be a God-given boon: an ill-prepared exam postponed was joy forever! As I moved to college, things weren’t much different. But I’d have to say that my batch wasn’t very lucky, most of our exams happened on the dot; but we did have our share of ‘Harthal joys’ during our first and second year. Along with internal-strikes, Harthals stood for fun and frolic!

Alright, that’s me. I know most of you are still pissed about having lost precious working hours to this ‘monstrosity’ – and I know for a fact that you ARE NOT jobless, for a fact. So let’s get into your shoes and analyze how Harthals are actually advantageous:

• Reluctant Breaks: Indians have a reputation of being a hard-working-populace. Half of all successful prostitutes, janitors, sweepers, construction workers and beggars overseas owe their roots to the our nation. These hardworking men and women toil their asses off (in some cases, quite literally), to earn their daily bread (or Vodka, for that matter). Such committed workers who work ‘hardly’ for the uplift of their Motherland should be provided a sabbatical, for myriad health reasons. Researchers have proved that constant physical exertion is on the rise. Modern adage seems to comply with the golden words: “Thou shalt die with a belly well fed.”, quote modern philosophers. In such extremes of physical torture, an occasional one-day break does only good.
• Banking A peep into the arbitrary government office and you would stand awed at the dedication and commitment depicted by our ‘babus’. Apart from their daily duties of duly ‘glancing through’ files (whose super-fast ‘transfer-rates’ put Teracopy to shame), our Babus seem to have taken the banking system under their folds. A very secure parallel banking system has been established thanks to concerted efforts over the years. The system has reached such levels of popularity that it’s quite an open secret these days. However, this system of banking involves one-way transfer. The customer can debit money through secure cash-processing machines under office-tables. (S)he gets decent rates of interest (which are at par with Islamic Banking, if not more) and that too in the form of myriad benefits. This parallel banking system has reached such massive levels of popularity and success that Private sector banks have started grumbling about deficits. Harthals are a boon for private sector banks, crumbling under the yoke of the parallel banking system (whose deposits go a long way to sunny Switzerland). Since more Harthals would mean more shut-down for these ‘parallel banks’, Private sector banks can heave a rightful sigh-of-relief.
• Too much work doesn’t just work ! The mentality of overseas Indians have crossed the seas and spread wings among their counterparts in good-old-motherland. India Inc is working ‘hardly’ these days! So ‘hardly’ that the word ‘hard’ has lost its very meaning! As they say, too many cooks spoil the broth, and too much ‘work’ (including parallel banking) ends up spoiling the broth. So much for more holidays.
• Booze ‘em up! A recent trend in the country is the widespread adoption of teetotalism. India is the country of the Mahatma, who stated that Alcohol is the biggest evil our nation has faced (Gandhiji has had his share of booze in his childhood, nevertheless). Thanks to widespread negative publicity by numerous A.A.s, alcohol sales have hit rock-bottom, today. Liquor baron Vijay Mallya is in the brink of bankruptcy and is rumoured to have auctioned stashes of his old Playboy magazinesor a paltry $5 billion, for want of liquid cash! Insider sources point out that Harthals are prompted by secret agencies (which have a nexus with Liquor companies like  Kingfisher); the sudden holiday comes as a huge-blow for the hard-working-average-indian, who, in order to kill satisfy his workaholism – goes to the nearby state-owned-beverages outlet and boozes to heart’s content. Inventive idea, huh? But then why would the government declare dry days during Harthals? The forbidden-fruit demand-supply principle. To sell something quick, kill the supply and increase demand! Our leaders aren’t as dumb as they seem.
• Television Viewership Let’s face it – television viewership is dwindling! Reality shows are seen as the last straw for TV channels in a bid to survive the blitzkrieg of new media. Once they go out of fashion, many television studios shall go bust. The Harthal is a boon to both the viewer and the Studio-Manager in this case. Studios dangle the carrot of newly-released flicks (bootlegged, in the case of local, operator-run channels), and the bored-out-of-his-mind  viewer jumps high to gobble it up. The studio gets its TRPs and the viewer smiles at his Rs 200/- of Multiplex Money savings.
• Bonding initiative Let’s face it: Assbook, Farkut and Shwitter have killed real socializing. We don’t get to meet real people – let alone our family members. Harthal spreads out a wave of universal joblessness that we’re left with our dear and near ones to have some kickass face-to-face conversations. Harthals also mean empty roads, streets and avenues, leaving open some very interesting possibilities for PDA (and more).
• Harthals heal the world! The Harthal is our very own innovation to get right back at Global warming. No automobiles, no factory fumes and no pollution for twenty four hours straight (not considering extra trillions of tonnes of human excreta that clog the sewerage system). Means of transportation are restricted to walks or even cycling – the best way to kill some calories and lose some flab.

If you’re still cribbing about something that the high court of Kerala has banned, you might want to sign this petition.

Bottom Line

Style of writing and ‘content’ inspired by FakingNews. *Respects* to Pagal Patrakar a.k.a. Rahul Roushan. You rock, dude!

No related posts.

Couple of weeks back, I was playing poker with my buddies. Poker is a newfound fascination, and I must thank  Sumesh for introducing me to this hugely-engrossing game. For, once you start off with poker, there’s actually no turning back. And you’re damned if you’re playing for money; you’d end up being hopelessly-addicted to gambling! So that day, Sumesh, Ashish and I  were indulging ourselves to a game of poker at a Cafe Coffee Day. Half the crowd (if you can term the three-odd distracted couples assembled at perhaps the worlds most-impoverished CCD as a ‘crowd’), was staring at  our blatant act of using CCD for our infamous (and partly-illegal) card-game. We’d ordered coffees and chocolate brownies, but the food was just namesake; our minds had nothing but Poker!

Until the food was served, we were mostly quiet – except for Sumesh’s occasional hyperactive winning-exclamations. After we had stuffed our tummies, our lip-strings loosened, before we could even notice! A normally-quiet-and-pensive Ashish set the ball rolling and soon the two of us joined in the conversation. Within no time, the three of us were so engrossed in tête-à-tête, that we’d almost forgotten the addictive game of poker! The game was still on, but the conversation-bit had a clear edge over the the former. As we conversed, we dug our fingernails (and our teeth) deep into the munchy food, relishing the natter along with the food. Evidently, we needed chocolate brownies and Cafe Mocha, to take our conversations to the next level.

It can rightly be said that Food is the best lubricant for conversation – like alcohol. Many proclaim that alcohol is the ultimate bonding-pill – and it’s actually right. Alcohol loosens your mind’s inhibitions and sets you talking, sometimes to the extent of you revealing your deepest darkest secrets. There’s this college-buddy of mine who blurted out his year-long secret affair with my classmate during a booze party atop a houseboat! Another friend is still being ridiculed; he was caught bawling about how he lost his first place in English Recitation in his third grade! Some try getting stoned to talk, but then the ‘high tide’ would wash over the dialogues.

Now, I can’t pass first-hand comments on smoking up or even boozing, simply cause I’m yet to try either of these. But I can assure you something; food doesn’t land you up in such uncomfortable situations. Food nourishes you – makes you healthy, and adds on to your grey matter (and some flab, if you don’t mind). The taste and the eventual satiation of a full tummy have resulted in many ‘done-deals’ – some corporates even employ secret recipes to get their counterparts/clients to sign that odd-document! Now, that’s not a conspiracy theory; work two years in an MNC, and you’d learn on your own!

The nuances of this strange ‘algebra’ aren’t baffling. The inherent logic is quite simple – words flow out of your mouth, proportional to the stuff in your tummy! The nourishment and the relishing experience soothe the human mind, to produce great conversations – a simple play of hormones! From family-dinners to corporate-brunches, food is the best networking interface. ‘Food-Book’ might be slower than Facebook – but good-food works long-term. unlike the latter! A date at a great restaurant, or an enriching buffet with co-workers is all it takes to ensure lifelong relationships!

That said, food is a double-edged sword; every coin has its flip side, and food is no different! It all starts from bad cuisine. This friend of mine admitted that her biggest turn-off is appalling food! A habitually-calm-person, she would throw the biggest tantrums after an appalling meal! Even culinary habits could turn people off – not everyone is blessed by good eating skills! A few odd souls (myself included) show surprising levels childishness when it comes to ‘eating’. From spilling eatables in a meter-radius to giving whole new definitions for the term ‘ripping it apart’, bad eating habits could be disgusting, even disastrous! To make things worse for foodies who might pass these attributes, there’s always the ‘dieter’ who refuses the tiniest morsel, to cut down kilos! In such unfavourable situations, food simply does not work!

But come to think of it, there’s nothing called a ‘free lunch’, pun intended! Such situations demand the presence of light-refreshments like a cup of coffee (works best with caffeine addicts) or even a glass of wine (best for ‘romantic’ nights); just carry yourself with grace and you’d end up having the time of your life!

Now you know, why they give out  ’food for thought’!

Related posts:

1. Makeover Cometh + Food for thought
2. Good Samaritan
3. Good bye, P4MONSTER!