The Good, The Bad and The Celebrity

It is amusing to realize how easily, at times, we start believing. How quickly we start idolizing. How passionately we start revering what we find enigmatic. And it amazes me to see how casually senses override sensibility, as belief transforms into idolization, idolization metamorphoses into passion and passion evolves into hysteria.  

In this age of steadily changing society dominated by people who are promptly awed by achievement and glory, fame is bliss. Almost regardless of where it stems from, it is a drug that addicts like nothing. For, it takes some giving to rise to the cynosure of all eyes and when you’re atop the precipice, a whole new world beckons you.

It is equally astounding to realize the number of ‘celebrities’ we have in our midst today. From the gaunt sportsman to the macho movie star, from the rising neta to the sensuous actress, from the legendary singer to the haughty soap vamp and from the wealthy businessman to the renowned artist, everybody is a ‘star’. And they are all around- Page 3 updates, drawing room chats, breaking news, friendly gossips, invading all parts of a common man’s everyday life. If you possess the much desired and envied ‘X-factor’, you have it in you to make it to the pinnacle of stardom.

Exactly WHO/WHAT is a ‘celebrity’? Technically, it should imply someone we ‘celebrate’. But what really is it in a ‘star’ that we tend to glorify? Flatly, it is merely what we perceive- the mesmerizing charisma of a Shah Rukh or a Salman, the sizzling figure of a Kareena or Katrina, the Hulk-ian frame of a John or a Hrithik and the captivating beauty of an Aishwarya or a Priyanka. Our precocious image of these demigods of tinsel town is only a function of the persona they wield on the celluloid.

Sure, these titans may have made it big on the silver screen, incessantly redefining stardom as we know it. But what we sub consciously neglect in our whim of frenzy and fanfare is whether they justify their celebrity stature out of the cinematic reel.

While these ‘performers’, let’s say, constantly amuse us by portraying the adorable lover boy ‘Rahul’, the girl next door ‘Simran’, the sturdy hero ‘Vijay’ and the valiant revolutionary who rises against crime on screen, their behavior turns out to be quite antagonistic out of it. These big screen heroes of ours turn out to be proponents of various social malaise  involved in ugly scams, shoddy court cases and notorious scandals. They are accused of resorting to malicious ways of gaining popularity/unprecedented achievement, instant sensationalism and attempting to rewrite history books in ink- once and for ever. But once the cookie crumbles, the journey from the zenith of glory to the abyss of oblivion is made at the fall of a hat. In reality, however there are only a few ‘heroes’, those who carry their onscreen magnanimity into the real world, away from lights and camera, even after ‘pack up’. Who stand for what they show and speak.

In this nation of a billion, with its typical paradoxes and poverty amidst plenty, only a few make it really BIG. Those who do must therefore make sure they give back to the society.

My favorite Superhero lives by the dictum-

“With great power, comes great responsibility.”

It is a responsibility to justify stardom and live up to the expectation of those millions who look up to them to the heights of fanaticism and euphoria. For- ‘if you make yourself more than just a man, if you devote yourself to an idea and if they can’t stop you, then you become something else entirely- a Legend.’

The Girl - II

"<SHE WHO SHALL NOT BE NAMED> wants to be friends on Facebook."

He mentally read the sentence aloud to himself- thrice- feeling neurons & electric impulses racing back and forth between vital organs in a strange, unparalleled sensation of achievement. Even before he could submit the argument to his cold judgment, he saw the cursor move- click- 'Confirm'. Her charming smile projected from her serene face- the display picture, which now seemed to converse with him. She, just like every other girl, looked even more beautiful in .jpg format...

That was within 48 hours after the walk. Within 72, mobile numbers had been exchanged. The latter had been a struggle, but he was happy he'd advanced. Yet, he had no idea how to use the two to get what he wanted. Perhaps he wasn't sure about that. For him, 'the girl' had always been one secret within a mystery wrapped in an enigma- fundamentally un-unravelable.

So one fine October morning, when his cell at the desk started buzzing, he wasn't quite sure he wasn't dreaming. No name. But the 10 digit mobile no. was one he had long before committed to memory. He was half awake, strewn with his 2 dishevelled roommates on 3 beds misaligned in a dingy, dilapidated hostel room.

Pupils dilated, limbs stretched, joints flexed and senses revived, almost in reflex, as he fast-booted all his systems from sleep mode. Then twice-lubricating his parched morning throat, he brought the most beautiful communication device ever made, close to his ears-

'Hello?!'

'Heiyy, you up?' Ears betrayed him, as he found himself unable to figure out whether the salutation was a ‘hey’ or a ‘hi’.

‘Yeah of course, what up?’, he started, collecting himself on the bed, senses racing back to reality at over 100 rpm and pulse catching up pretty fast. 

‘You free this afternoon?’ she sounded her-casual-self. The statement registered a spurt in brain waves- trick question?

‘Eh... yeah, what happened?’ he replied, lower than normal on reaction time.

‘Yaar, can you meet me at Badi at 2?’ she pleaded, with such a characteristic charm, he thought, only she possessed in her voice, making it impossible for a mortal with a functioning organ beneath his ribs to say ‘No’. In his case, however, the verb in the sentence was enough to make him comfortably numb.

‘Sure...’ he managed, struggling to complete the sentence. Words, as often, eluded him.

‘Thanks a LOT yaar’, he heard. This time his ears did not miss the profound emphasis on the word ‘lot’. He felt a part of him melt.

‘OK. See you, byyeee.’ 

By the last word, he was a lost cause.

‘Bye...’ he wasn’t sure he’d said it before the disconnection beeps.

Now, had it been a text message, atleast 7 ‘E’s would have followed the ‘Y’. The girl was amazingly adept at appending emoticons to words over phone. It had taken her just 25 seconds to wake him up from absolute unconscious. On an ordinary day, that would have been 16 minutes of waiting outside a stinking, unsanitary hostel toilet. This, sure as hell, wasn’t a dream! He glanced around to confirm that none of his roommates was eavesdropping. No, nobody in their sane mind wakes up at 7 AM on a Sunday!

He leaped out of the bed as if possessed by a spirit, made his way across the available floor area littered with biscuit and namkeen wrappers from last night, and pulled the window. Dazzled by the brightness, he let the mid October breeze brush his hair and the warmth of the early morning sun irradiate his skin cells.

‘This is going to be one fine day!’ he mumbled under his breath as he put on his bathroom slippers, grabbed the plastic bottle of the hand-wash and kick-started the most awesome Sunday morning in a long time.

He would soon find out why not...

The Girl - III

BATman Ends

If you're lying on your hostel bed an afternoon during your semester finals after a brain-wracking session, claiming a period of mental recharge, this is not an SMS you'd want to wake up to- 'news coming in, sachin announces retirement'- especially if you've spent your childhood watching few sports as religiously as cricket!

When we were 16, we were grappling with tricky problems of Maths and Physics under our study lamps. When He was 16, He was fending blizzards zooming past the stumps at well over 90 mph from the likes of Wasim and Waqar in Pakistan.

When we were 18, we were toiling hard to get into an IIT. When He was 18, this school drop-out was sweating profusely while raising His bat after becoming the youngest ever to score a test century, a smile barely making its way through His lips to our eyes.

Rest is HIStory.

Today, He’s hung up his boots, much to our surprise and dismay, and we’re left awestruck at how soon the small, curly haired boy with a striking innocence and grit in His eyes, batted his way right into our hearts, and 23 years elapsed just like that.

Its surprising that it took Him more than 75 innings to register an ODI hundred. But there wasn’t any looking back after that. In fact, as a natural lifter and attacker of the cricket ball, so swiftly did He evolve His batting techniques that within no time He’d become not just the batting main stay of the Indian lineup, but the hope and idol of a billion- amassing the bulk of His runs as an opener.

He completely redefined opening batting with His impeccable timing, largely textbook but at times even unorthodox techniques, and surgical placement, so much so that at times the bullets emanating from His particularly heavy willow used to reach the fence even before one could yell ‘FOUR RUNS’. Tendulkar of the late 90s, by now a household name and a global phenomenon, was a revelation for India and (@ShaneWarne) a nightmare for bowlers across the world.

His trademark shots- the extraordinarily powerful back-foot cover drive, the elegantly balanced straight drive and the wizardly flick of the pads through mid-wicket (which Waqar Younis claimed He could play even with a walking stick!), gave Him a reputation vested only on the greats of the generation. He played both spin and seam bowling with such amazing artwork that it was always a feast for spectators of either side. The way He has lately immortalized the nippy ‘upper cut’ is another example of His sheer class. Lords, Sydney, Wellington, Johannesburg, Jamaica, Shere-Bangla, Karachi, Premadasa- wherever he made the long walk to the crease, unprecedented hiatus and jubilation followed. In India, He could stop time!

One of His greatest innings was the 143 vs Australia at Sharjah, where He single handedly steered India to victory in the tri-series with back to back hundreds in the penultimate and final games. The 98 of 75 vs Pakistan in the 2003 WC, which also included the famous upper cut to Shoaib Akhtar, was unforgettable in itself, as He batt(l)ed with a hamstring injury and was caught out 2 runs before a ton on the very 1^st delivery He faced after calling a runner. Then who can ever forget the 200 not out against South Africa at Gwalior which was not just a batting marathon but the achievement of a seemingly impossible landmark and a psychological impediment. Each of His 46 other ODI hundreds was as special as any, for His countless worshippers.

The tennis elbow injury was His lowest point. It was a time when apparently everybody started doubting Him following a sharp decline in His long seasoned batting technique, critics even asking for retirement. But the master blaster showed that we fall so that we can learn to rise again, letting His bat do the answering. He never let the anger and despair cross the 5 inches between His ears, on the field. Honesty, commitment and humbleness were His acquired and inherited traits and all that made up the persona of the Sachin we know and revere- SUCH is the character, SACH is life!

Statistics, arguably, are the ultimate hallmark of a sportsman. By those standards there is not a single person who has ever wielded the batting stick, who can walk shoulder to shoulder with the little master on His best day.

He was THE REASON cricket moved up above the 22 yards and invaded our homes, offices, tea-stalls, railway stations, shops, stores, hostels, common rooms, schools, colleges, ingrained into the Indian psyche once and probably forever. It’s hard to imagine walking in to bat with a million eyes on you. That is something He has done throughout these 23 years. This journey- from the ‘galis’ and practice pitches of sub-urban Mumbai, learning the tit-bits of the game from his mentor Ramakant Achrekar, to the world cup victory at Wankhade under the inspired guidance of Gary Kirsten- has been truly sublime.

Now, one feels He should’ve retired after the World Cup final, on the field, at Wankhade, on His home ground, amidst thousands of fans, with the tricolor on his shoulders and tears in His eyes. That would have been the ideal farewell to the person who made countless children like me, dream of becoming a cricketer.

He is an inspiration, a true legend for all sense of the word. A hero that the game deserved but perhaps not the one it needed right now. He was indeed the silent guardian, the watchful player- the white knight.

Adios Jersey No. 10. 

Live long and prosper!

Of News and Everything...

To be honest I dont care much about what's happening around the world. It’s just when the daily copy of TOI kept at our hostel reading area starts flashing the same faces and similar news for quite a few days in a row, that I tend to unleash the reader in me. It happened recently. It seemed like the world’s most powerful federation was getting ready to carry out the most tedious exercise in a parliamentary democracy- voting. The entire globe seemed interested. For once in a long while, even the likes of Arvind Kejriwal and his expose were pushed to the trivial 3^rd and 4^th pages. After all it’s not every day that you elect the most powerful person in the world. 

It was US Presidential elections. And guess what Obama won, Cheers!

But should we be cheerful?

Ya... Why shouldn't we. After all he's a Nobel peace prize winner. That puts him in the same league with greats like Nelson Mandela, Mother Teresa, Aung Saan Su Kyi, Martin Luther King Jr etc.

Well what a joke!
Nobel peace prize!
I mean seriously is it 'PEACE' prize?
What can you expect from an institution whose founder invented dynamite!

Going by the winners of recent years, nothing can be a bigger piece of crap than this. And more shockingly yesterday I read somewhere that Britons are now pushing their government to nominate 'Malala' for Nobel peace prize. Going by how Liu Xiaobo won it in 2010,  I bet even she can do the same. So in short, all you have to do is, voice your views in favor of some 'Western notion' of world peace, largely built around American propaganda, on an international dais, get yourself hurt, end up in some jail and in time if you've got enough patience and power remaining, you'll end up in Oslo receiving a million dollars or so and live the remainder of your life spending them.

So here comes a million dollar advice from me- Just Storm into the Ecuadorian embassy in Britain, kill Wikileaks founder Julian Assange and I bet you'll be conferred the Nobel 'peace' prize. The entire western world is on a hunt for him like greyhounds. His only crime was to show us 'what's actually happening behind the curtains'.

Another classic example is of the European Union. The economies of various EU nations are crumbling, unemployment is at its peak and several countries are facing a burgeoning financial deficit. Many EU states were actively engaged just last year in the most disgusting and flagrant breach of international law, the most heinous act of terrorism, the most despicable support for murderers, rapists, arsonists and torturers in the war in Libya. And yet they receive a Nobel peace prize in 2012... Cheers Again!

Talking of Obama again- No doubt he's a better alternative to Mitt Romney. But the fact is like every American President he is a puppet in the hands of the powerful Jewish lobby and multi-billion dollar American investmnet banks and defence companies. He supported war in two nations and is reponsible for killing thousands of innocent people. The financial crisis of 2008 occurred right under his nose. And yet he hasn't learnt his lessons. He's continuing with the same economic policies, with a large shadow of Wall street bankers still looming over his head. The criminals of financial crisis are holding vital portfolios in his administration. But still he's an 'honourable person' and a winner of nobel peace prize!

Back here in India, our growth rate has dropped to it's lowest since 2003. They say its alarming. I'd respectfully like to disagree. I think that with all those jerk-heads heading this government along with its voluminous scams, this growth rate is still commendable. Speaking of scams, our very own ultra corrupt government with a super duper 'honest' and 'puppet' Prime Minister is now planning to cut off hands of the CAG. After all, our honest Prime Minister has learnt some lessons after the CAG expose of Commonwealth, 2G and Coal scams. The combine net worth of these scams is about 4,00,000 crore rupees. That's more than the total GDP of many African countries. So we can easily conclude that there are Billionaires sitting in our government with all their money stacked in the cold and secret vaults of Foreign Banks, particularly the Swiss. I advice Forbes to revise their list of Billionaires next time, with our politicians and bureaucrats sitting on top of the table.

In the end on a higher note 'Guns and Roses' is visiting India, but its only Axl Rose from the classic line up. We all know how 'Delhites' screwed up last year at the Metallica concert. Yet I've booked a ticket with 'Sweet Child of Mine' in midst of this 'November Rain' to finally move on to 'Paradise City' in a 'Nighttrain'  and with Axl Rose singing, I'll be 'Knocking on Heaven's Door'. I hope 'I Don't Cry' like last year at Metallica's after all THIS IS INDIA and we are in midst of an internal 'Civil War'.

The Girl - I

He casually wipes the moisture of his palms on his worn out jeans, slips his hands into its side pockets and wonders-'what now'. Considering several subjects that rush through his mind, and running a quick mental conversation rehearsal, he gulps down his throat and rolls his tongue over his dry lips. Then adjusting the specs on his nose, he collects himself all over again.

"8 am lectures are a huge pain in the ass", he manages, glancing at her spotless red top as he shoots it.

A couple of pending assignments along with below average grades in the last quarterly had been bothering him of late. But that makes little difference to him at the moment. For just this while, he doesn't quite care. Its a warm summer evening and walking along the quiet street circumscribing the university auditorium, he can now see two shadows getting longer on the road. This is the time he had been longing for- she's with him, part that counts anyway.

Its been some time now. For him, she is 'the girl'. She so very easily dominates the rest of her species and eclipses all of those who exist on this part of the earth. Its not that he's all nuts for her, or that he hasn't come across girls who 'make boys weak in the knees'. But he can sense a different recipe this time, one he's failed to comprehend thus far. He'd have a hard time admitting that the feeling is akin to 'love' for her. Past experiences have somehow made him develop a peculiar disregard for sentiments, especially this one.

"Yes, and Prof Verma makes it worse. An hour of catching up on lost sleep", she chuckled, carefully tucking the silky strand of hair that played on her soft face, behind her ears.

Today had been a different script, in some ways. Whether it was the movie till late last night, the 4 hours of head banging at back to back lectures today, the rejuvenating chai at TIC OR the spotless top, the meticulously groomed hair or this slow walk back together, he still can't understand why he feels- for lack of the perfect word- 'elated'.

"You guys always occupy the last rows, have fun and we have to take all the shit everyday from the front seats", she complained in a frequency so sweet he thought she had a musical larynx. 'What fun?', he wondered. The only reason he preferred sitting back was because proximity to her during lectures made him very uneasy, diluting every hard built 'concentration'. And then of course to have the liberty of doting at her without the fear of being caught, as a consolation, when the Professors started speaking and writing Latin.

"So, you going home?", she asked. 3 days off and an intermittent Sunday were making an extended weekend, he recalled. What is it with holidays and people rushing home, he thought, I could do with once in a semester. It was the ambiance talking. Her presence, perhaps. Life, and this place, had just started looking merrier.

"Na. I like it here in the hostel. I get bored at home, so not before Diwali break. You?", he inquired, trying to sound casual. Even before she could reply, he'd mentally prepared the itinerary for the following weekend corresponding to both the possible responses.

"Yeah, the day after. Dun's amazing... this time of the year and this place sucks, especially after 7 pm, you know... And moreover, i miss home", she replied, visibly ecstatic. He found it hard not looking at her lips when she was happy. Although her eyes were equally pretty. He checked the time- 6:46- perfectly on time at her hostel entrance. 

"Lectures tomorrow right. 8?", she threw as she drifted to the gates. "Alas...", he contributed to the parting words. "Cya...", she said and smiled. She turned and her hair followed her, dancing on her back. "Bye...", he managed as she glided past ear shot. The guard at the gate heard him. He thought he saw the tired old man's forehead churn.

It took some time until his 'elation' subsided. She was all over his mind. 'Perhaps you should have gone for the mobile no', he pondered but probably that mesmerizing smile had made him helpless. 'That would've been a bit of probing', he laid an antithesis. Now, he could feel his legs weary and back stiff- the long day. Its a mile and a half to the hostel. "Rickshaa...", he yelled, without another thought, beckoning to one wandering nearby. He involuntarily popped out his cell- '2 missed calls', '3 new messages'. He pushed it back into his pocket.

'Dun's amazing, this time of the year', he revised. 'I could go meet my uncle there', he spoke to himself as he hopped on and spread himself on the vehicle.

"Patel...", he shouted, instructing the man on the paddle, but more so himself, thinking more clearly now, as the rickety 3 wheeler rode into the twilight.

The Girl - II

Inside Facebook

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“Please bhaiyya, mujhe bhi chahiye…” urged my little cousin, as I sat before my computer, connected to the Internet. The site that flashed on the monitor was a simple and sober one, like a child’s imagination, like a pretty drawing on a blue canvass- It’s inarguably one of WWW’s most popular web page. He’d seen me sitting before it- clicking, scrolling, typing, browsing, but basically idling, which is what’d caught his attention. He’d seen pictures, places, words, names, faces… smiling faces.

My brother’s 10 and he says he wants a Facebook ID. It did not take me any time to convince him he must have a Yahoo ID to do this, and you must be 18 to do that! (Pays when you are way smarter than somebody else.)

That is just a miniscule exhibition of the revolution the world’s most popular social network has wrought in cyberspace. It’s been months since I saw the wonderful film “The Social Network” and weeks since I read the amazing book “The Accidental Billionaires” but neither has quite left me yet.“We lived on farms, we lived in cities and now we live on the internet”.What is more mesmerizing than the effect of this freakishly addictive ‘Blue Booze’ on the common man is the tale of its inception and growth.

As a prolific programmer, a Harvard undergraduate with a 1600 in his SAT, the curly, hoody, geeky freshman with his flip-flops and a typical self defeating awkwardness, Mark Zuckerberg, 19, had already achieved a lot to be proud of. But somehow all of this just didn’t sum up to a conclusion of his lifetime achievements. It was very soon then, that he decided to take up his next big project, which would soon transform into the BIGGEST venture of his lifetime. One he himself didn’t anticipate would someday manifest itself as one of the biggest fortunes in the history of Silicon Valley and script his name in golden letters in the annals of corporate history as the World’s youngest self-made Billionaire ever at 26!

Facebook is an excellent example of ‘innovation’ and ‘entrepreneurship’, which are the 2 big lessons for us here.

First, speaking of talent, it’s simply mindboggling to see how a bashful young lad in his 20s coming from nowhere, within 6 years, starting from his college dorm room, establishes a billion dollar evaluation. He was smart (Pays more when you are way smarter than everybody else!) A boy who didn’t care about ‘money’ or a ‘successful career’ but was simply driven by the zeal to do something different and innovative, but more importantly- FUN. He sticks to this dictum till date, as we see the Facebook home page, simple and elegant, no flashy ads or anything- “It’s free and always will be”, making money to build services and not the other way round.

Second, talking of entrepreneurship, successful ventures have always been founded by pairs of entrepreneurs who shared a common vision for success. It had happened at Microsoft with Bill Gates and Paul Allen, at Apple with Steve Jobs and Steve Wozniak, at Google with Larry Page and Sergey Brin, at Yahoo with Jerry Yang and David Fillo. But with Facebook, when it came to innovation, it was always a lone individual. The way he transformed Facebook from a virtual image of a happening college life to a complete social experience were everybody- perhaps from amazed 10 year olds to the retired aged- fit perfectly, is terrific.

But can we even start to imagine something like this here in India, a place where profound emphasis is always on salaries and an esteemed career? Where only professions like engineering, doctorate and civil services are considered respectable, sometimes even acceptable? In this never ending rat race, any room for innovation, initiative and interests is methodically killed- at homes, at schools and finally at colleges. The desire to do something different is deemed as heresy and lunacy.

Entrepreneurs in India, save a handful, are barely icons. They all represent a class of individuals who have made it big on the corporate scale by learning to establish precise contacts and grease the right palms- competing on bribing and not innovation. They adopt unscrupulous ways, rely on ugly backdoor government-businessman nexus and resort to anti-social activities to make money. The 2G and ‘Coalgate’ (whoever named it that way!) scams are testimonies to this. In the midst of this bravado, can India ever produce a Mark Zuckerberg who can create a company worth billions without adopting unfair means?

The beautiful success story of Facebook is a lesson that we should not promote money and power but talent and character. With the right environment conducive to ideas, talent and thinking, India can be a much better place to live in. With all that said and done, it doesn’t seem hard to picture (perhaps) another successful maverick, an unkempt sophomore smitten by an ‘Erica Albright’, relaxing on an arm chair in a lavish board room in his office, reading these words on a card aloud to himself with the smallest hint of a grin sprawling across his face-

“I’m CEO-Bitch.”

Oye Hoye its FRIDAY!

We should have written this a long time back. “Laziness, thou art a heartless bitch!”

I am not an ardent cinema enthusiast and certainly not a movie fanatic. In fact, in none of the myriad parallel universes seething in the vast ocean of cosmic hyperspace am I even mildly obsessed with the chronicles of the celluloid. Having said that, I’d like to take a stand here this day. Courtesy, the excruciating long vacations, I’ve spent an unbelievable part of my time before LCDs, delving into the tinsel world on the other side of the screen and these escapades have rendered me aghast this summer.  

It amazes me to see the kind of cinema we celebrate today.

The movies, they are a bizarre concoction of senseless story-lines, predictable scripts, pathetic screenplay, puerile dialogs and absurd performances, thriving primarily on scintillating romance, lewd comedy, hideous action or lately even erotic (read erratic) thrillers. Flourishing in utopian settings and depicting implausible scenarios, these films, save a few, are barely a reflection of the society- 120+ unbearable minutes of undue drama and frenzy.

TV serials and soaps, I realized, go still more miles in serving the viewers the most unrealistic settings where apparently anything happens to anybody anytime. Precariously laid on similar story-lines of a shrewd woman who looks ravishing in her typical wicked smile (aka the ‘Vamp’) tormenting an innocent woman who looks beautiful in tears (aka the ‘Lead’), these serials are pathetic attempts of uselessly dragging a long lost story line on and on. The creators (assuming they are) do this incessantly either by deliberately developing some ‘setting’ between the leads (who always live in filthy rich homes and bungalows and are all “businessmen”) based on some current Bollywood chartbuster or by their classical ‘frame repeating’ or ‘frame dragging’ sequences of ‘Nahi… Nahi… Nahi…’ or ‘Slap… Slap… Slap…’ as the audience (the woman folk) watches, gripped and dumb struck all the while. The newly budding reality TV is another blatant slap on the face of reality, prospering on revelations and sensationalism. 

Today, there remains very little scope on the big and small screen for capturing the common man’s plight, the realistic struggles, social encounters and emotional turmoil he encounters in the real world every day. In fact most of our so called successful movies, TV and reality series are exhibits of sheer plagiarism, hopelessly derivative and unoriginal- clumsy remakes of old flicks, horrible adaptations of their English or American counterparts, utter misinterpretations of classics, unnecessary sequels to past hits and glorification of some hitherto unknown literature. There is no creativity employed in the cinematography. Just films and serials made for the sake of making, with popular faces roped in (even ‘item numbers’ incorporated) to raise box-office revenues or TRPs. The perplexed viewer is left browsing the idiot box, surfing through channels for something worthwhile and truly entertaining.

It’s not that the scene is absolutely hopeless. There are people doing justice to cinema in their own ways but their count is very low. Yes, given that we resort to the virtual world to relax and ease our senses and shed logic and reason for a while to escape from the real world, but at the end of a weary day, person only wishes to see something comforting with the entire family and this event, sadly, today is statistically unlikely to occur. 

It’s the way we spend our time that makes us who we are. We have had works in the past that we are proud of and which are a standing testimony to our enormous abilities. Today we ought to start being and believing in ourselves, feel proud of our identity, look inward and around for a billion beautiful story-lines unveiling themselves every moment in our great nation. All we need is an eye for observation and an elegant way of storytelling to capture these wonderful experiences on the reel- ‘Lights… Camera… Action…’

Guwahati Molestation Case: Have we lost our Ethics?

"A teenage girl who was returning home after a party at a city bar was pulled by her hair, lifted up, thrown down, beaten up, thrashed, molested, groped, slapped and stripped in full public view for 30 minutes on Monday night at a busy road near the Christian Basti area in Guwahati by a mob of around 20 men."

These are the opening lines of a report of the incident on the CNN IBN website. The verbs used in them surprise, stun, annoy, perplex, irritate and exasperate me more than any other part of speech. This is just one of countless such appalling incidents that have become an undesirable appendage to our (so called) modern society- such heinous instances of breach of morality, display of profanity, insult of humanity and exhibition of insanity.

"The girl had gone to celebrate a friend's birthday... There (at the bar) they had a fight and the management asked them to leave as they were creating a ruckus over there... they came out and some hooligans (20 of them) saw her and tried to take advantage of her..."

What is disturbing is the fact that this incident, this carnage, happened in full public view. As a matter of fact there exists 30 minute footage of the crime that has gone viral over the internet, in the absence of which this could perhaps have drifted into oblivion just like many others. It nauseates me to think of such scum bags who suppose that merely being physically superior to the opposite sex gives them the right to subject them to despoliation. The fact that being blessed with a pair of glands qualifies them to regard women as commodities. It sickens me to even write of them.

But what is further astounding is the fact that there existed not a single person (read 'viewer') who could step-up and object. There was nobody man enough to call the police, let alone take her side and retaliate. Such is the indifference, such is the passivity we have imbued in ourselves. 'If it doesn't affect us, who cares?' No one wants to be a decent man in an (supposedly) indecent time. We have become amazingly adept at turning a blind eye to things that do not concern us but which we very well know, ought not to flourish.

It is this 'chalta hai yaar' attitude that's making us who we are becoming every passing moment- a self concerned, self obsessed, self centered 'narcissist'. From our petty 'settings' with the local Electrical Officer who we bribe to switch our electric meter or our bigger 'negotiations' with the Income Tax Officers who help us skip our dues, we easily become 'used to' discrepancies and start discovering ways to benefit from them. Needless to mention 'kya karen bhai, SYSTEM hi kharab hai' is the speeding ticket cum excuse that is always at our disposal.

"While the Assam Police have identified twelve men, it has only managed to arrest four so far."

Then...
There's the system, so we mock at it.

There's the police, so we bribe it.

There's the law, so we bend it.

We love such 'challenges' for we know the judiciary is a mess and there's always a babu, a neta or a bada admi who has infected the higher levels and who by his mean nepotism will ensure that the countless jails erected out of the tax payer’s money never get to harbor a convict behind the bars. The deaf needs a bang to hear, it’s said and we do wake up from our slumber, search and light our candles, create fancy posters, shout enthusing slogans and march into the streets behind an 'Anna', only to drift into sleep soon enough. Of course we won't be surprised if all the 20 manage to flee, make a few headlines, churn a few blogs and are forgotten (in fact 'forgiven')

We hear of this every day, read of this often, talk about this seldom, but 'do something about this' never. The media is never an asset, only a spectator and at best a rouser. We watch stuff like 'Crime Petrol', 'Dastak', 'Wardat' etc but that's only before we go to bed.

Change is what we always miss.

"You see, their morals, their code, it's a bad joke. Dropped at the first sign of trouble. They're only as good as the world allows them to be...”

... said 'The Joker' referring to the ‘stupid innocent common man’ and perhaps he was right. But we must remember that in this 'real world' both the lurking ‘Devil’ and ‘The Dark Knight’ reside only within us.

It’s the choices we make that make us who we are...

R.I.P Rustam-e-Hind

Classification of 'The HUMAN SPIRIT'

Having ‘studied’ the girls, we thought (on some public demand!), to do the same with the boys! But then we did not want to reveal the best kept male secrets, so we decided to do this- a classification of Homo sapiens in general! And this time we have tried to keep ourselves a touch formal!

So ever considered how many ‘kinds’ of people were really around you? Ever wondered what kind YOU are? Here's the answer!

(Note: The parts in “italics” are excerpts from various songs by EMINEM)

1. The Followers- The first of the kind, the most commonplace and the most numerous of them all, are what we call ‘The Followers’. These are people who learn by learning to ‘follow’ and over time, get acclimatized to the world around them. They are good observers and get to know some ‘working principle’ of their world and learn to thrive in it. They possess a very calculative, observing and manipulative, though certainly not a creative mind. They keep a wisely chosen circle of friends, who may or may not be of their ‘type’. They keep good company. However their ‘learning’ is not ‘exclusive’. They lack insight and do what they are told, advised or instructed. They don’t ‘experiment’ with life and live within their rules and order, rarely broken or violated. Hence, their life-style is a function of the world around them. People who are ‘Followers’, tend to remain so, for a lifetime.

“I just want to be just like you

Blend in with the rest of the room

Maybe just point me to the closest restroom

Unfortunately I am, but I just hide behind the tears of a clown”

“I just wanted to fit in, at every single place I go.

Sometimes I feel like a robot, sometimes I just know not

What I'm doin I just blow."

2. The Passives- The second and the less abundant are ‘The Passives’. These are people weak at both learning and framing their rules. These are folks who haven’t yet figured out a way to be in the world; hence they tend to stumble around. These people are generally content to be a face in the crowd. They have few friends, all of their ‘type’- little hopes, passions, ambitions or dreams. They drag along a seemingly cheerless existence. They take time to settle into groups and tend to stay alone or with guys just like them. They are those who’d live amongst you and yet remain anonymous. Arbitrary, low on IQ, no specific talents, and tend to defy the ‘every child is special’ tagline. Perhaps, the only +ve thing with them is, (unlike the ‘Followers’), they may, in their lifetime transform into ‘Rebels’ or ‘Explorers’, due to some ‘shot in their arm’- a real strong motivation or life experience.

“His palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy

There's vomit on his sweater already, mom's spaghetti

He's nervous, but on the surface he looks calm and ready to drop bombs,

But he keeps on forgetting what he wrote down,

The whole crowd goes so loud,

He opens his mouth, but the words won't come out

He's choking how, everybody's joking now

The clock's run out, time's up over, bloah!”

3. The Explorers- These are perhaps the most interesting of the lot. ‘The Explorers’ are those who always wish to take things one step further. At the outset they tend to look like the person next door. But beautifully conceived within their seemingly ordinary human form is a very playful mind. These are people who radiate energy and cheerfulness, who possess an aura of their own, those who have really wide social circles. They are friends with everybody. They face absolutely no difficulty in settling into new environments. They are the eye-candies on social gatherings, parties and events, adventure seekers who love to push the limits and experiment with life a lot. They’ve peculiar tastes and hobbies. Blessed with an average mind, they’ve no set rules and principles but always meander along life. They’ll seldom be found alone. In fact, they’ll be caught in the most happening of places, often created by them. They are excellent talkers, blessed with a great sense of humor and people love their company. In short, they believe-‘while we live, lets LIVE!’

“Ain't no way I'ma let you stop me from causing mayhem

When I say I'ma do something I do it,

I don't give a damn what you think,

I'm doing this for me, so fuck the world

Feed it beans, it's gassed up, if it thinks it's stopping me

I'ma be what I set out to be, without a doubt undoubtedly”

“So I better lose myself in the music, the moment

I own it; I better never let it go”

“I'm Superman with the wind at his back

I guess I don't know my own strength”

4. The Rebels- These are the ‘revolutionaries’. ‘The Rebels’ are extremely rare. They are very different from their contemporaries. As such, they seem unusual, peculiar and strange but they are extremely gifted and highly talented ‘super-humans’. These are people born either too ahead or far behind their age for they don’t seem to ‘belong’ to their world. Hence, they keep challenging the accepted and acknowledged norms, ways and traditions of the society. Always pressing for a ‘move ahead’, a change they feel is essential, but which may not necessarily be a positive one. They mock at rules, bend them and make their own. They experiment with life but not recklessly as ‘Explorers’ or just for the sake of it, but for a well defined purpose. They are masters of their trades. Experts at professions. They love solitude, introspect, imagine and create. They are on 7 out of 8 occasions born as Rebels. But very seldom someone does transform into one because of a very strong ‘kick’-a motivation. Had it not been for them, human progress would have been decelerated by bounds. Genius as they are, they must control their instincts, for they do possess a tendency to evolve, from assets, into a liability to the society.

“Nobody knows me I'm cold, Walk down this road all alone

It's no one's fault but my own, it’s the path I've chosen to go”

“There's no limit on how far I would go, No boundaries, no lengths.”

"And I'm not afraid (I'm not afraid), to take a stand (to take a stand)

Everybody (everybody), Come take my hand (come take my hand)”

“A lot of people think... That I worship the devil…
That I do all types of... Retarded shit

Look, I can't change the way I think. And I can't change the way I am

But if I offended you? Good. Cause I still don't give a fuck”

5. The Unpredictables- Having classified 95% of the population; we found we’d still left out a small fraction. A class of people who do not hail from any of the above ‘categories’, or perhaps fall into more than one of them in course of their lifetime. These are the ‘Unpredictables’, folks who cannot be grouped, for they are way too erratic. Almost split personalities- changing ways, habits, desires and form. They are both ordinary and special, simple and complicated, intellectuals and morons, magnetic and hideous, content and dissatisfied. An enigmatic mixture of opposites. Too good to be accessed, we say, too bad to be understood, worse to be rated and classified!

“Lately I've been hard to reach; I've been too long on my own

Are you calling me? Are you trying to get through?

Are you reaching out for me?

Fell down and I got right back up”

“But you'd have to walk a thousand miles

In my shoes, just to see, What it's like, to be me

I'll be you, let's trade shoes, Just to see what it'd be like to

Feel your pain, you feel mine, Go inside each other's minds

Just to see what we find”

And to sum up, here’s what we found pitch perfect for the entire youth population.

Cheers!

“Stay strong to the rest of the world, God gave you the shoes

That fit you, so put 'em on and wear 'em

And be yourself, man, be proud of who you are

Even if it sounds corny,

Don't ever let no one tell you, you ain't BEAUTIFUL…”

“You can do anything you set your mind to, man”