For Sanju sir…
“Hey 29, happy birthday to us,” he said on the phone when he called me on Sunday.
Though his voice lacked his trademark crackle yet it was Sanjay Dutt alright. “I’ve just finished with the puja, how are you celebrating,” he wanted to know.
It was 29th July__ our birthday__ and just like the past few years, Sanju called to wish me. He also wanted to know if I had gone to a particular astrologer that he had recommended to me when we had last met at his Imperial Heights apartment. “Arre, why haven’t you gone till now,” he chided me. “He’s really good. I’ve already told him that you’ll be coming,” he said.
Really, I didn’t want to meet the astrologer but since he has been so insistent I told him that I’d surely make an appointment. This made him happy. “Good. I’m telling you he’s very good. Till now whatever he has predicted for me has come true,” he gushed.
The eternal optimist that he is, he believed anything good that anyone told him. He was pretty kicked about this astrologer because he had predicted that he would be rid of his “terrorist” tag. And since last year, the TADA court acquitted him of terrorism and conspiracy charges in the 1993 Mumbai serial blasts; Sanju felt he was on the right track.
As to why he was so insistent that I meet up with the astrologer is because of yet another prediction. “You know what, he has predicted that 2008 is going to be a fantastic year for all those who are born on July 29. He predicts a golden year for us,” he gleefully told me in our last meeting. Seeing the skepticism on my face he joked, “Arre even if it’s a fantastic year for you and not me, I’ll be happy. Kissi ka toh achcha ho. So take that look off your face,” he laughed.
He could joke about it but the spectre of the verdict was always looming over him. All these meetings with astrologers and temple visits proved that he was tensed and apprehensive about his future. Like he had confessed to me once, “There are days when I get up in the middle of the night fretting about my future. And then there are phases when I think things are getting better so I must work a little harder.”
Maybe it was the success of Lage Raho Munnabhai__ a film that catapulted Sanju back in the top bracket___or just an epiphany but Dutt did take a reality check. He dropped anchor in an otherwise windswept life, kicked the bottle and went on a boiled-food-only diet. Gone was the man known for his mercurial temper and skirt chaser reputation. He even made peace with his daughter Trishala, who stays with her aunt in New York. His father, Sunil Dutt’s death was a huge jolt and mellowed him further. That’s when he stopped being the baba that he always was perceived as and became the big brother of the family.
After his acquittal in the TADA court, Sanju was hopeful of getting a lenient verdict in his conviction under the Arms Act. “I’m prepared for the worst. I have to face whatever happens but I have full faith in the judiciary of the country,” he told me on our birthday.
When I asked him what is the best gift he has got for this birthday, he said, “The only gift I want is my freedom. Just pray for me, 29 that I get it. I’ll never ask for anything more.”
Well, the long arm of the law doesn’t usually unwrap a birthday gift.
Thursday, August 02, 2007
Same Difference
Last Sunday I turned 28. That’s two more to go before I reach the magical 30 mark__ a milestone I’m awaiting since I believe that a woman’s life truly begins at 30 which as my mom tells me is the new 20. Anyway since birthdays are all important to me I decided to you know… just list a few lessons I learnt in the year gone by. (Posting this at the risk of getting caustic comments about “my shortcut ways” from The ZS and The TP…ah, well, I can never please them so…what the heck!!!)
I’ve learnt that good friends never call and ask if they can come over, they just arrive unannounced at an ungodly hour with coffee and ice cream.
I’ve learnt that hot chocolate tastes better if you put a dash of coffee in it.
I’ve learnt that whenever I get excited about a new author that I’ve discovered I end up being sorely disappointed with his/her next book.
I’ve learnt that if it takes you apart then that’s not love because love puts you back together.
I’ve learnt that there are two kinds of men: a man’s man and a woman’s man. And I’d rather know a man’s man.
I’ve learnt that if I insert a straightened paper clip into a tiny hole that is located on the front of my computer’s optical drive, I can extract a stuck CD or DVD.
I’ve learnt that I can safely block a few people on my gtalk and be happy.
I’ve learnt that LIGHTHOUSE can’t even make black coffee.
I’ve learnt that people who insist on asking what gift I want for my birthday never give me what I asked for.
I’ve learnt that an eye contact can sometimes speak more than a thousand words.
I’ve learnt that if someone doesn’t love you the way you want them to, it doesn’t mean that they don’t love you with all they have.
I’ve learnt that I can never lie to my parents.
I’ve learnt that you can never put a premium on people.
I’ve learnt that while men are better at building castles in the air, it takes a woman to build them with brick and mortar.
I’ve learnt that the difference between running a team and ruining it is the ‘I’.
I’ve learnt that a mere mention of the word ‘shopping’ is a cure for my chronic insomnia.
I’ve learnt that while everyone wants to be unique it takes a greater degree of self-assurance and courage to be normal.
Monday, July 09, 2007
One (Not So) Fine Day (Part 1)
I was having one of those ‘So no one told you life was gonna be this ways’ kinda day. My job sucked. The fridge was empty (and so was the bank account). The relentless rains wouldn’t let up. LIGHTHOUSE was in the hospital and The-Man-In-My-Head was giving me the silent treatment. On top of that, I discovered a lizard in my small room and on top of that that, my insomnia was acting up (if insomnia can do that—act up, I mean)!
“Really,” I spoke aloud to The-One-Who-Can-Hear-Me-But-Who-Has-Been-Quiet-For-So-Fudging-Long, “could I please get another life?” Silence from his side too. Great! Now all I needed was a plane crashing in my garden apartment and then I would definitely be on the Hindi news channels.
But every dark something has a silver something and in my case my dear friends The Zing Singh (ha ha!) and his wife, The Tarapur Princess (hee hee ha ha!!) acted as the cloud lining. “Snap out of your crabby mood,” ordered The Zing Singh. (Ha, as if I ever listen to him!) “Come on to the BBQ Nation and we’ll feast on the kebabs,” said The Tarapur Princess.
I really wanted to wallow in my look-at-me-I-am-a-disaster wave. But she did say kebabs, right? So poor little me waded in the liver deep water and reached the appointed place at the appointed time. And what do I see? Mr and Mrs Zing Singh are nowhere in sight, it’s still raining and the fudging place has a waiting line that extends from the slips to the boundary line i.e. if it were a cricket pitch! “How come? Its not even Saturday night,” thundered a hyper mother of three right in my right ear. My reflexes kicked in and I lost my footing. And I fell down----- clothes, bag, specks, hair and all in the leptospirosis friendly rainwater. “Oh ho,” said the smallest one of the hyper pack. (Yeah Oh! and Ho!)
After warding off the helpful waiter who in his well-intentioned eagerness almost pushed me back in the eeky water, I managed to get up. By this time two more families had positioned themselves in the queue. And of course the entire queue and some of the diners were staring at me… and the queue. Now if only they (the diners) wouldn’t do that and instead focused on eating, there would not be a queue but what the heck!
“Look someone’s phone is in the water… and look it’s ringing,” a fellow queue mate’s shriek broke my mental funk. She was right! There was a funny little Nokia thingie in the water blaring Just Chill Chill. Wait a minute! I have the same ring tone… and the same looking phone too. Oh my gosh, that is my phone! And it is ringing! I dipped my hand in the puddle just to hear The Zing and his missus telling me that they are some 20 minutes away and that I must get a table. (Really now!!)
I didn’t expect anything better since in the past Mr and Mrs Zing have famously invited me for lunch and then woken up at five in the evening themselves. The best time to meet them is Saturday night. That’s when The Tarapur Princess is really in form and can (almost) finish a bottle of wine. I just love her when she does that. As does The Zing Singh.
Nyways back to scene, I waited for some 15 minutes or so until the same overeager waiter came up to me and took me (FINALLY) to my seat. Once inside the restaurant I managed to elicit the same response. Everybody (yeah everybody) stared at me. To be fair, I must be looking a sight with wet hair, shoes, bag and clothes. But it would have been polite if I didn’t cause such a stir. But since I wasn’t writing THIS script it wasn’t my place to complain (or swear). So off I went and took my place at the table right in the center of the restaurant and waited for The Zing Singh and The Tarapur Princess. And waited. And waited.
Finally they arrived. The Tarapur Princess looked sheepish while the Zing Singh just wanted to know if the AC was working! I had had it by then and was just about to shout when I saw HIM enter the restaurant. And I stopped. And I watched.
(To be continued)
I was having one of those ‘So no one told you life was gonna be this ways’ kinda day. My job sucked. The fridge was empty (and so was the bank account). The relentless rains wouldn’t let up. LIGHTHOUSE was in the hospital and The-Man-In-My-Head was giving me the silent treatment. On top of that, I discovered a lizard in my small room and on top of that that, my insomnia was acting up (if insomnia can do that—act up, I mean)!
“Really,” I spoke aloud to The-One-Who-Can-Hear-Me-But-Who-Has-Been-Quiet-For-So-Fudging-Long, “could I please get another life?” Silence from his side too. Great! Now all I needed was a plane crashing in my garden apartment and then I would definitely be on the Hindi news channels.
But every dark something has a silver something and in my case my dear friends The Zing Singh (ha ha!) and his wife, The Tarapur Princess (hee hee ha ha!!) acted as the cloud lining. “Snap out of your crabby mood,” ordered The Zing Singh. (Ha, as if I ever listen to him!) “Come on to the BBQ Nation and we’ll feast on the kebabs,” said The Tarapur Princess.
I really wanted to wallow in my look-at-me-I-am-a-disaster wave. But she did say kebabs, right? So poor little me waded in the liver deep water and reached the appointed place at the appointed time. And what do I see? Mr and Mrs Zing Singh are nowhere in sight, it’s still raining and the fudging place has a waiting line that extends from the slips to the boundary line i.e. if it were a cricket pitch! “How come? Its not even Saturday night,” thundered a hyper mother of three right in my right ear. My reflexes kicked in and I lost my footing. And I fell down----- clothes, bag, specks, hair and all in the leptospirosis friendly rainwater. “Oh ho,” said the smallest one of the hyper pack. (Yeah Oh! and Ho!)
After warding off the helpful waiter who in his well-intentioned eagerness almost pushed me back in the eeky water, I managed to get up. By this time two more families had positioned themselves in the queue. And of course the entire queue and some of the diners were staring at me… and the queue. Now if only they (the diners) wouldn’t do that and instead focused on eating, there would not be a queue but what the heck!
“Look someone’s phone is in the water… and look it’s ringing,” a fellow queue mate’s shriek broke my mental funk. She was right! There was a funny little Nokia thingie in the water blaring Just Chill Chill. Wait a minute! I have the same ring tone… and the same looking phone too. Oh my gosh, that is my phone! And it is ringing! I dipped my hand in the puddle just to hear The Zing and his missus telling me that they are some 20 minutes away and that I must get a table. (Really now!!)
I didn’t expect anything better since in the past Mr and Mrs Zing have famously invited me for lunch and then woken up at five in the evening themselves. The best time to meet them is Saturday night. That’s when The Tarapur Princess is really in form and can (almost) finish a bottle of wine. I just love her when she does that. As does The Zing Singh.
Nyways back to scene, I waited for some 15 minutes or so until the same overeager waiter came up to me and took me (FINALLY) to my seat. Once inside the restaurant I managed to elicit the same response. Everybody (yeah everybody) stared at me. To be fair, I must be looking a sight with wet hair, shoes, bag and clothes. But it would have been polite if I didn’t cause such a stir. But since I wasn’t writing THIS script it wasn’t my place to complain (or swear). So off I went and took my place at the table right in the center of the restaurant and waited for The Zing Singh and The Tarapur Princess. And waited. And waited.
Finally they arrived. The Tarapur Princess looked sheepish while the Zing Singh just wanted to know if the AC was working! I had had it by then and was just about to shout when I saw HIM enter the restaurant. And I stopped. And I watched.
(To be continued)
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Tell Me Why
I've some pretty pertinent questions after watching some of the recent films. Maybe the film-makers can enlighten me.
Why don't children in films have names anymore?
The little boy and girl in Ta Ra Rum Pum were referred as Champ and Princess throughout the film even in the most emotionally laden moment of the film when daddy Saif Ali Khan is hurt in a car crash. As for Sexy, the kid in Cheeni Kum, she is totally from another planet. She gives love advice to a 64 year-old man, watches adult movies and what's more even tells the 34-year-old girlfriend of the old man that her beau is sleeping with her, all innocently of course! Guess, director Balki deserves kudos for totally reinventing the role and scope of a child artiste in Hindi films but I would have liked to know her name. I mean, you just cannot have children named Sexy, Princess and Champ. They are not horses and dogs for god sake but children!
Why are so many films being shot in London?
My heart bleeds for Filmcity. Bollywood's best-known shooting ground is facing stiff competition from London. Nearly 40 Bollywood films were shot in London last year and the figures only seem to be on the ascent in 2007. Salaam-e-Ishq, Namastey London, Cheeni Kum have already been there, done that while coming up attractions like Jhoom Barabar Jhoom, Goal and Speed are also all London centric. Seeing Salman Khan do Tenu Leke in Trafalgar Square in Salaam-e-Ishq was very nice but why do we have to see Zayed Khan and Tanushree Dutta do the same jig at the same place. Time our film-makers showed us something we haven't seen. Right now, we are suffering from London fatigue.
Why do most of Ram Gopal Varma films have a green hue?
You can't miss it. Ram Gopal Varma has been carpet-bombing the television channels with promos of his version of Sholay. While the world wants to know how Amitabh Bachchan does a Gabbar Singh, I want to know why is the film bathed in green? Ramu did that in the Khallas number in Company also as well as in Naach, Jungle, Shiva and James. Does he have a huge sci-fi fixation or what?
Why is Konkona Sen Sharma always the girl who discovers a gay?
It happened to her in Page 3 and then again in Metro. It's a common Konkona moment now: Konkona enters her boyfriend's house only to find it empty. She looks here and there and then goes in his bedroom or a guest room and finds out that he has been two-timing her and that too with a guy! When it happened in Page 3, it was a novelty but when it happened again to her in Metro it's a yawn. Well to be fair in Metro she also learnt that her boyfriend was two timing her with her boss so maybe it was a double blow but still why only Konkona?
Why is Kangana Ranaut getting stereotyped?
And then there is the Kangana Ranaut specialty. She has done only four films but already she's become a pro at the drunk-depressed-slightly ott-suicidal type. There is a similarity in her roles in Gangster, Woh Lamhe and Metro. All these depressive, suicidal roles must be taking quite a toll on the poor girl's mental health. She needs reinvention and fast.
Why does Upen Patel bare his chest?
Why oh why? He's just three films old and we've already seen too much of Upen Patel's chest. And we are bored. If he's trying to imitate Salman Khan then somebody please tell Upen that Salman started flaunting his chest much after flaunting his acting abilities in Maine Pyar Kiya, Baaghi and others. Upen needs to tone down and keep his shirt on.
I've some pretty pertinent questions after watching some of the recent films. Maybe the film-makers can enlighten me.
Why don't children in films have names anymore?
The little boy and girl in Ta Ra Rum Pum were referred as Champ and Princess throughout the film even in the most emotionally laden moment of the film when daddy Saif Ali Khan is hurt in a car crash. As for Sexy, the kid in Cheeni Kum, she is totally from another planet. She gives love advice to a 64 year-old man, watches adult movies and what's more even tells the 34-year-old girlfriend of the old man that her beau is sleeping with her, all innocently of course! Guess, director Balki deserves kudos for totally reinventing the role and scope of a child artiste in Hindi films but I would have liked to know her name. I mean, you just cannot have children named Sexy, Princess and Champ. They are not horses and dogs for god sake but children!
Why are so many films being shot in London?
My heart bleeds for Filmcity. Bollywood's best-known shooting ground is facing stiff competition from London. Nearly 40 Bollywood films were shot in London last year and the figures only seem to be on the ascent in 2007. Salaam-e-Ishq, Namastey London, Cheeni Kum have already been there, done that while coming up attractions like Jhoom Barabar Jhoom, Goal and Speed are also all London centric. Seeing Salman Khan do Tenu Leke in Trafalgar Square in Salaam-e-Ishq was very nice but why do we have to see Zayed Khan and Tanushree Dutta do the same jig at the same place. Time our film-makers showed us something we haven't seen. Right now, we are suffering from London fatigue.
Why do most of Ram Gopal Varma films have a green hue?
You can't miss it. Ram Gopal Varma has been carpet-bombing the television channels with promos of his version of Sholay. While the world wants to know how Amitabh Bachchan does a Gabbar Singh, I want to know why is the film bathed in green? Ramu did that in the Khallas number in Company also as well as in Naach, Jungle, Shiva and James. Does he have a huge sci-fi fixation or what?
Why is Konkona Sen Sharma always the girl who discovers a gay?
It happened to her in Page 3 and then again in Metro. It's a common Konkona moment now: Konkona enters her boyfriend's house only to find it empty. She looks here and there and then goes in his bedroom or a guest room and finds out that he has been two-timing her and that too with a guy! When it happened in Page 3, it was a novelty but when it happened again to her in Metro it's a yawn. Well to be fair in Metro she also learnt that her boyfriend was two timing her with her boss so maybe it was a double blow but still why only Konkona?
Why is Kangana Ranaut getting stereotyped?
And then there is the Kangana Ranaut specialty. She has done only four films but already she's become a pro at the drunk-depressed-slightly ott-suicidal type. There is a similarity in her roles in Gangster, Woh Lamhe and Metro. All these depressive, suicidal roles must be taking quite a toll on the poor girl's mental health. She needs reinvention and fast.
Why does Upen Patel bare his chest?
Why oh why? He's just three films old and we've already seen too much of Upen Patel's chest. And we are bored. If he's trying to imitate Salman Khan then somebody please tell Upen that Salman started flaunting his chest much after flaunting his acting abilities in Maine Pyar Kiya, Baaghi and others. Upen needs to tone down and keep his shirt on.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Confessions, confessions, confessions…this time aboard an-almost-about-to-crash AI 120
However close the bond is, there will come a time in your life especially when you are all grown up and living in another city, that you and your mom will prefer different brands of tea.
I’ve learnt that some men will even fake a heart attack to get out of shopping.
This is for all the women travelers: always carry talcum powder on a trip. You just never know when and for what you might need it. And while you are packing the essentials, do pack the nano and the mac. Familiar gizmos always instill a sense of comfort.
Some beasts remain just that: beasts. No magical kiss from Belle will change them into hunky men. Sigh!
Success is the new name for greed.
Eating out is the new age oral gratification.
When newspaper headlines are dominated by Paris, the heiress turned jail junkie and not the eternal city then you know you are indeed living in troubled times.
Going by the weirdoes I attract, sometimes I feel that the title sucker.com is inscribed on my forehead.
Sometimes a stranger’s smile feels like the very best homecoming.
I think I can live my life in a hotel suite as long as room service, house keeping, laundry and maintenance service are available 24/7.
My secret fantasy: to buy my comfort faded green suede sofa in Marriott’s Reflections bar.
You can play endless rounds of truth or dare but at the end of the day, only one man can make your heart flutter…always.
However close the bond is, there will come a time in your life especially when you are all grown up and living in another city, that you and your mom will prefer different brands of tea.
I’ve learnt that some men will even fake a heart attack to get out of shopping.
This is for all the women travelers: always carry talcum powder on a trip. You just never know when and for what you might need it. And while you are packing the essentials, do pack the nano and the mac. Familiar gizmos always instill a sense of comfort.
Some beasts remain just that: beasts. No magical kiss from Belle will change them into hunky men. Sigh!
Success is the new name for greed.
Eating out is the new age oral gratification.
When newspaper headlines are dominated by Paris, the heiress turned jail junkie and not the eternal city then you know you are indeed living in troubled times.
Going by the weirdoes I attract, sometimes I feel that the title sucker.com is inscribed on my forehead.
Sometimes a stranger’s smile feels like the very best homecoming.
I think I can live my life in a hotel suite as long as room service, house keeping, laundry and maintenance service are available 24/7.
My secret fantasy: to buy my comfort faded green suede sofa in Marriott’s Reflections bar.
You can play endless rounds of truth or dare but at the end of the day, only one man can make your heart flutter…always.
Friday, May 18, 2007
Some more Confessions:
Apparently some people really liked my midair confessions so what the heck, I decided to dole out some more. So....
· Sometimes it’s not what you say, it’s how and when you say it.
· Living is tiring, period.
· Some childhood lessons really live forever. I participated in a debate when I was in class VII. I still remember the topic: Your decision, your happiness. Fourteen years later, I realize the meaning. So who says school isn’t important?
· Read this one somewhere which sums it all up for me: “The trouble is that while few believe they can perform brain surgery, nearly every living soul believes they can write. If only they had the time and opportunity.” Ha, if only!
· Buddha says even your deadliest enemy can’t damage you as much as an unguarded thought. Hmmm.
· Acceptance is the greatest gift you can give yourself.
· The greatest courage is to show up.
· Words express passion. Kissing confirms it.
· Doing nothing sometimes hurts more than doing something. Life doesn’t come with a guarantee, which is just as well, because most guarantees are bullshit.
· After a while, all places look the same.
Apparently some people really liked my midair confessions so what the heck, I decided to dole out some more. So....
· Sometimes it’s not what you say, it’s how and when you say it.
· Living is tiring, period.
· Some childhood lessons really live forever. I participated in a debate when I was in class VII. I still remember the topic: Your decision, your happiness. Fourteen years later, I realize the meaning. So who says school isn’t important?
· Read this one somewhere which sums it all up for me: “The trouble is that while few believe they can perform brain surgery, nearly every living soul believes they can write. If only they had the time and opportunity.” Ha, if only!
· Buddha says even your deadliest enemy can’t damage you as much as an unguarded thought. Hmmm.
· Acceptance is the greatest gift you can give yourself.
· The greatest courage is to show up.
· Words express passion. Kissing confirms it.
· Doing nothing sometimes hurts more than doing something. Life doesn’t come with a guarantee, which is just as well, because most guarantees are bullshit.
· After a while, all places look the same.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Mera Wala Superhero
You can't miss him. Right at this moment, he is doing his superhero-giri at a theatre near you. Fearing Spidey's indestructible super powers at the BO, Bollywood decided to play it safe and refrained from exposing any of its heroes to Spidey's might. Save Gautam Ghosh's passport to the festival circuit, Yatra, there was no mainstream Hindi release last Friday.
Seeing Spidey's clout at the BO set me thinking which of our heroes can play the role that Tobey Maguire has stamped as his own. Sure we do have our own Hrithik Krrish Roshan but what intrigues me is to find out who from our current crop of actors can play the original three super guys: Spiderman, Superman and Batman.
So I spread the word around to a few of my male buddies who have grown up on these superheroes and after much debate, deliberation and guffaws, I managed to pull of some pretty interesting casting decisions.
Bollywood Superman: Akshay Kumar
Because Akshay can easily switch between a geek and a superman type. Translated, he can strike the right balance between being the apple-pie good boy and look equally convincing when bashing the baddies. Also, he has the right profile to carry off the suit and the side parting won't look too bad on him.
Bollywood Spiderman: Saif Ali Khan
Because Spidey needs to be both funny and nerdy. Saif just needs to mix and match his Dil Chahta Hai funny and frothy self with a touch of dark from Omkara. Also, Saif has the right boyish appeal and the body type to pass of as a desi Spidey.
Bollywood Batman: Hrithik Roshan
Because Hrithik is quiet and mysterious just like Batman. And as he showed us in Krrish, with his quiet intensity he can be the extraordinary guy with ordinary powers. Also as seen in Dhoom 2, he can also be quite a master of disguises, which is a Batman specialty.
Phew! That's my super 3. Now I'd like to know which one of our Bollywood heroes make up your list.
You can't miss him. Right at this moment, he is doing his superhero-giri at a theatre near you. Fearing Spidey's indestructible super powers at the BO, Bollywood decided to play it safe and refrained from exposing any of its heroes to Spidey's might. Save Gautam Ghosh's passport to the festival circuit, Yatra, there was no mainstream Hindi release last Friday.
Seeing Spidey's clout at the BO set me thinking which of our heroes can play the role that Tobey Maguire has stamped as his own. Sure we do have our own Hrithik Krrish Roshan but what intrigues me is to find out who from our current crop of actors can play the original three super guys: Spiderman, Superman and Batman.
So I spread the word around to a few of my male buddies who have grown up on these superheroes and after much debate, deliberation and guffaws, I managed to pull of some pretty interesting casting decisions.
Bollywood Superman: Akshay Kumar
Because Akshay can easily switch between a geek and a superman type. Translated, he can strike the right balance between being the apple-pie good boy and look equally convincing when bashing the baddies. Also, he has the right profile to carry off the suit and the side parting won't look too bad on him.
Bollywood Spiderman: Saif Ali Khan
Because Spidey needs to be both funny and nerdy. Saif just needs to mix and match his Dil Chahta Hai funny and frothy self with a touch of dark from Omkara. Also, Saif has the right boyish appeal and the body type to pass of as a desi Spidey.
Bollywood Batman: Hrithik Roshan
Because Hrithik is quiet and mysterious just like Batman. And as he showed us in Krrish, with his quiet intensity he can be the extraordinary guy with ordinary powers. Also as seen in Dhoom 2, he can also be quite a master of disguises, which is a Batman specialty.
Phew! That's my super 3. Now I'd like to know which one of our Bollywood heroes make up your list.
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
Good Shot
Here are a few of my unforgettable on-screen moments based on some recent releases:
The one with the 7 helicopters and Manhattan skyline: I don't know why the audience rejected Jaan-e-Mann. I quite liked the treatment of the film especially debut director Shirish Kunder's storytelling style through the medium of a song. Yeah, it was quite Broadway and that's what stayed in my mind. But another image just refuse to leave my mind space and that was when 7 helicopters were used to spell out New York. I think it was a fantastic gimmick to depict that the action has shifted to New York. It created an impact and was nothing short of a spectacle. No wonder they call it showbiz with the emphasis on show!!
The one where the Big B plays footsie with Lolita: It was the defining moment of Ram Gopal Varma's Nishabd. A 60-year-old man (Amitabh Bachchan) is having dinner with his wife and his daughter's friend (Jiah Khan). Everything seems routinely normal and polite except the fact that the daughter's friend is an 18-year-old vixen who is naughtily playing footsie with her friend's father who can't control his laughter. Both the protagonists portray just the right balance of sexual tension, awareness, mischief, fear and delight of the forbidden. This one crackles with energy!
The one where Ash n' Abhi are in bed: The mock fight that Abhishek and Aishwarya indulge in that scene in Guru successfully dispelled all those about their thanda on-screen chemistry. The scene adds just the right touch of intimacy, fun and comfort. Everybody in the cinema hall had a smile on their face when the actors were playing this one out.
The one where Rishi Kapoor has the last laugh: The entire rugby sequence in Vipul Shah's Namastey London was masala entertainment at its best. Taking it from where Lagaan left, the scene successfully evoked humour and patriotism. Didn't we all cheer for Akshay and his army to defeat the goras in their game and on their turf? Now that's kitschy! But the
piece de resistance was what followed after. Rishi Kapoor's unbridled laughter at the dinner table when he's reminiscing about the great victory is a great touch. And when Akshay and Katrina join in the laughing binge (the latter does it quite grudgingly) the scene is stamped with that something special.
The one with the pigeon: The scene where a blindfolded Amitabh Bachchan in the garb of Eklavya aims to separate a ghungroo tied to the leg of a flying pigeon is in my opinion the image of the film. The impact, in one word, is breathtaking. Everything works in the scene: the background music, the camerawork, the art direction, the performances and the direction. The dramatic effect of the sequence is made even more riveting when the ghungroo gets stuck on a ledge. Vidhu Vinod Chopra shoots the scene like a ritual especially when Eklavya is required to get into the pool to catch the ghungroo . It's like a painting!
The one where Eiffel Tower was in the background: I love the way Farhan Akhtar shot the introduction sequence of Shah Rukh Khan in Don. The whole attitude of the film was reflected in that little montage when SRK is on the phone, in his cool black car, while the Eiffel Tower is blurred in the background. The message was clear: Paris and Eiffel Tower were just incidental, Don had much more important things to do than moon about the most romantic city of the word. I liked the arrogance and attitude in the shot.
The one with unhinged disco ball: This one makes the mark for its sheer absurdity. I can't recollect the last time I saw a film with a more bizarre climax. Suneel Darshan's Shaka Laka Boom Boom was touted as a desi Amadeus but the film ended up as an unintentional comedy and that too of a pretty low order! I mean, can you imagine a disco ball falling on the protagonist's head as the conclusion of a film? It was hilarious, especially the demon dance in Bobby Deol's mind that followed soon after. People actually write this kind of stuff, shoot it and expect us to enjoy it? Sigh!
The one when Raima's saree came off: This one shot of Honeymoon Travels Pvt Ltd when Raima Sen's saree comes off when she's on a parachute is symbolic to the core. There she is, the free spirited Bengali housewife enjoying her freedom in the sky without bothering about her saree. And there on the ground, is her conservative Bengali husband ready to burst a blood vessel because he can't bear to watch others see his wife in her petticoat and blouse. The scene brings out the contrasts between the couple so effortlessly. Good fun!
Here are a few of my unforgettable on-screen moments based on some recent releases:
The one with the 7 helicopters and Manhattan skyline: I don't know why the audience rejected Jaan-e-Mann. I quite liked the treatment of the film especially debut director Shirish Kunder's storytelling style through the medium of a song. Yeah, it was quite Broadway and that's what stayed in my mind. But another image just refuse to leave my mind space and that was when 7 helicopters were used to spell out New York. I think it was a fantastic gimmick to depict that the action has shifted to New York. It created an impact and was nothing short of a spectacle. No wonder they call it showbiz with the emphasis on show!!
The one where the Big B plays footsie with Lolita: It was the defining moment of Ram Gopal Varma's Nishabd. A 60-year-old man (Amitabh Bachchan) is having dinner with his wife and his daughter's friend (Jiah Khan). Everything seems routinely normal and polite except the fact that the daughter's friend is an 18-year-old vixen who is naughtily playing footsie with her friend's father who can't control his laughter. Both the protagonists portray just the right balance of sexual tension, awareness, mischief, fear and delight of the forbidden. This one crackles with energy!
The one where Ash n' Abhi are in bed: The mock fight that Abhishek and Aishwarya indulge in that scene in Guru successfully dispelled all those about their thanda on-screen chemistry. The scene adds just the right touch of intimacy, fun and comfort. Everybody in the cinema hall had a smile on their face when the actors were playing this one out.
The one where Rishi Kapoor has the last laugh: The entire rugby sequence in Vipul Shah's Namastey London was masala entertainment at its best. Taking it from where Lagaan left, the scene successfully evoked humour and patriotism. Didn't we all cheer for Akshay and his army to defeat the goras in their game and on their turf? Now that's kitschy! But the
piece de resistance was what followed after. Rishi Kapoor's unbridled laughter at the dinner table when he's reminiscing about the great victory is a great touch. And when Akshay and Katrina join in the laughing binge (the latter does it quite grudgingly) the scene is stamped with that something special.
The one with the pigeon: The scene where a blindfolded Amitabh Bachchan in the garb of Eklavya aims to separate a ghungroo tied to the leg of a flying pigeon is in my opinion the image of the film. The impact, in one word, is breathtaking. Everything works in the scene: the background music, the camerawork, the art direction, the performances and the direction. The dramatic effect of the sequence is made even more riveting when the ghungroo gets stuck on a ledge. Vidhu Vinod Chopra shoots the scene like a ritual especially when Eklavya is required to get into the pool to catch the ghungroo . It's like a painting!
The one where Eiffel Tower was in the background: I love the way Farhan Akhtar shot the introduction sequence of Shah Rukh Khan in Don. The whole attitude of the film was reflected in that little montage when SRK is on the phone, in his cool black car, while the Eiffel Tower is blurred in the background. The message was clear: Paris and Eiffel Tower were just incidental, Don had much more important things to do than moon about the most romantic city of the word. I liked the arrogance and attitude in the shot.
The one with unhinged disco ball: This one makes the mark for its sheer absurdity. I can't recollect the last time I saw a film with a more bizarre climax. Suneel Darshan's Shaka Laka Boom Boom was touted as a desi Amadeus but the film ended up as an unintentional comedy and that too of a pretty low order! I mean, can you imagine a disco ball falling on the protagonist's head as the conclusion of a film? It was hilarious, especially the demon dance in Bobby Deol's mind that followed soon after. People actually write this kind of stuff, shoot it and expect us to enjoy it? Sigh!
The one when Raima's saree came off: This one shot of Honeymoon Travels Pvt Ltd when Raima Sen's saree comes off when she's on a parachute is symbolic to the core. There she is, the free spirited Bengali housewife enjoying her freedom in the sky without bothering about her saree. And there on the ground, is her conservative Bengali husband ready to burst a blood vessel because he can't bear to watch others see his wife in her petticoat and blouse. The scene brings out the contrasts between the couple so effortlessly. Good fun!
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Confessions of an idle mind aboard a very noisy IC 863:
Always pack your comfort tee, pajama or slippers even if you are going away for a day trip.
You can never have the perfect job or the perfect haircut in this lifetime.
If you are a Plus sized woman with a good smile then ‘cute’ is a word you are gonna have to make peace with.
Baby talk is not sexy. Especially in bed.
Younger brother is the only person you can take criticism about your looks (read weight) from.
Indian Airlines will always get delayed.
Love means having to say you are sorry all the time.
Mc Dreamy is a television creation. He does not exist in real life.
You can never outgrow your childhood crush.
If you can’t talk about it, you can’t fight about it and fix it.
Life is not a screenplay.
The wedding vows ‘for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health’ should actually be for parents and children. Face it, only parents are going to love you, have you and hold you for worse, when you are poor and sick!!!
When your first love comes back, you want to call his wife and gloat.
Baileys rocks, vodka is temporary.
A man never takes a woman seriously who lights his cigarette.
If Calvin (of the Hobbes fame) were to meet you in real life (read in the form of a potential boyfriend) you would want to run a 100 miles.
If Mr. Darcy were to meet Elizabeth in today’s time, he would not make the effort. She will prove to be too high maintenance, you see!
Cary Grant is never going to ring your doorbell.
Sometimes life can be described in one word. Especially if that word is coffee.
Friday, February 02, 2007
Bonjour....
I know, I know, its been a while... My adopted parents gave me a good sounding tonite so I know its been more than a while. Well, since I never want to disappoint them, I'm dashing off something I wrote recently. Its about Shah Rukh Khan in his new avatar as the host of KBC. Wrote it for my newspaper but not everyone I know and love reads my paper (come on, guys subscribe now!!!!) so am rehashing it here....
Hope this will make M& S happy!!!
Enjoy....
King and I
'Confident' is now 'pakka', 'lock' turns into 'freeze' while 'I want to hug you' is the new way of saying 'I want to quit'.In case you missed last month's blockbuster television splash, thisrefresher course of the new Kaun Banega Crorepati (KBC) lingo willcome in handy. After much ado about almost everything, Star Plus served the thirdinstallment of its mega show. And like the earlier versions, this one was also only about the host with the prize money and the contestants serving as mere background noise.
Ah, the host! Since the big announcement of the big change, the big question on everybody's mind was could HE fill the Big B's big shoes?After Monday night's debut, we can safely say that Shah Rukh Khan knows what he's doing out there on the psychedelic sets of Crorepati. Yes, he was slightly nervous (he fiddled way too much with his tie),over eager (massaging the neck muscles of the contestant was not really required) and really excited (after a while, the high fives became a little too much).
And yeah, in the beginning, he was trying too hard: not to be like Bachchan, that is. You could see that he wanted to wring his hands the way Big B did during the opening lap but he restrained himself not to do that. He also refrained from saying the famous, Deviyon aur Sajano instead opting for his own version of Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls. But five minutes into the show, SRK settled down quite well and managed to erase the shadow of his predecessor with his unique brand of nonchalance, humour and spontaneity.
If Bachchan made KBC momentous, then SRK has made it more entertaining. If Bachchan's KBC was one hour of good television viewing then SRK's KBC is a big television event, the kind that you can enjoy over a pizza and coke.Amitabh Bachchan is awe-inspiring. His powerful personality and that deep baritone can be quite intimidating if the person in the 'Hot Seat' doesn't know his business. With SRK, there is a comfort zone. He's like the friendly stranger at your neighbourhood Barista with whom you can share a smile. So, the new KBC is much more relaxed.
What works in SRK's favour are his special 'people skills' and his cheekiness. Only SRK can call Gugilla as Gugs. Only he can do an unrehearsed Bengali rap, uncaring whether or not he gets the diction right.In his true blue entertainer avatar, he goes all out to please the gallery. He even makes his sponsors happy. The Computer ji has nowbecome Compaq da (Its not merely a coincidence that SRK endorses Compaq). By giving personal details like, "Sometimes I end up writing Love Shah Rukh on the cheques thinking I'm giving an autograph," he 'smade the show and himself more special and accessible.
However what he needs to do pronto is to cut out the Bluffmaster inspired promo video and do away with the tie or go for one that is better knotted.
Sure, we miss Big B but the King has his own charm. Give him a couple of nights, a couple of weeks and he'll stamp the 9-10 slot as his own.Who knows maybe he'll dance to Chaiya Chaiya on the next show? And won't we like that.
I know, I know, its been a while... My adopted parents gave me a good sounding tonite so I know its been more than a while. Well, since I never want to disappoint them, I'm dashing off something I wrote recently. Its about Shah Rukh Khan in his new avatar as the host of KBC. Wrote it for my newspaper but not everyone I know and love reads my paper (come on, guys subscribe now!!!!) so am rehashing it here....
Hope this will make M& S happy!!!
Enjoy....
King and I
'Confident' is now 'pakka', 'lock' turns into 'freeze' while 'I want to hug you' is the new way of saying 'I want to quit'.In case you missed last month's blockbuster television splash, thisrefresher course of the new Kaun Banega Crorepati (KBC) lingo willcome in handy. After much ado about almost everything, Star Plus served the thirdinstallment of its mega show. And like the earlier versions, this one was also only about the host with the prize money and the contestants serving as mere background noise.
Ah, the host! Since the big announcement of the big change, the big question on everybody's mind was could HE fill the Big B's big shoes?After Monday night's debut, we can safely say that Shah Rukh Khan knows what he's doing out there on the psychedelic sets of Crorepati. Yes, he was slightly nervous (he fiddled way too much with his tie),over eager (massaging the neck muscles of the contestant was not really required) and really excited (after a while, the high fives became a little too much).
And yeah, in the beginning, he was trying too hard: not to be like Bachchan, that is. You could see that he wanted to wring his hands the way Big B did during the opening lap but he restrained himself not to do that. He also refrained from saying the famous, Deviyon aur Sajano instead opting for his own version of Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls. But five minutes into the show, SRK settled down quite well and managed to erase the shadow of his predecessor with his unique brand of nonchalance, humour and spontaneity.
If Bachchan made KBC momentous, then SRK has made it more entertaining. If Bachchan's KBC was one hour of good television viewing then SRK's KBC is a big television event, the kind that you can enjoy over a pizza and coke.Amitabh Bachchan is awe-inspiring. His powerful personality and that deep baritone can be quite intimidating if the person in the 'Hot Seat' doesn't know his business. With SRK, there is a comfort zone. He's like the friendly stranger at your neighbourhood Barista with whom you can share a smile. So, the new KBC is much more relaxed.
What works in SRK's favour are his special 'people skills' and his cheekiness. Only SRK can call Gugilla as Gugs. Only he can do an unrehearsed Bengali rap, uncaring whether or not he gets the diction right.In his true blue entertainer avatar, he goes all out to please the gallery. He even makes his sponsors happy. The Computer ji has nowbecome Compaq da (Its not merely a coincidence that SRK endorses Compaq). By giving personal details like, "Sometimes I end up writing Love Shah Rukh on the cheques thinking I'm giving an autograph," he 'smade the show and himself more special and accessible.
However what he needs to do pronto is to cut out the Bluffmaster inspired promo video and do away with the tie or go for one that is better knotted.
Sure, we miss Big B but the King has his own charm. Give him a couple of nights, a couple of weeks and he'll stamp the 9-10 slot as his own.Who knows maybe he'll dance to Chaiya Chaiya on the next show? And won't we like that.
Monday, July 31, 2006
The Unforgettable
For all those who wanted me to write about HIM! (Trust me, there were lots of u!!!)
It's a profile I dashed out for a magazine recently... Brickbats, bouquets, comments, Oh-iamme...bring it all on!
Here it is....
When Salman Khan walked out of the Jodhpur Jail clad in ganji and jeans, a top Bollywood actor remarked, "Look at him. It seems as if he's coming after a work out session in Gold Gym."
Khan's rival didn't intend the statement as a reproach. It was an affectionate acceptance of the way Khan chooses to live his life.
Mahendra Singh Dhoni didn't take off his shirt when ICC declared him as the Number One Batsman in the World. But Khan did a shirtless dance on the rooftop of his Bandstand home when he was granted bail.
In the normal course of his stardom, Khan shies away from media. But on this instance, all big and small television channels were granted candid one on ones. "That's because bhai wanted to thank his fans for their unflinching support in his hour of crisis. This was the only way he could reach out to them," says Khan's close aide.
Fair enough. All his sound bites reeked of genuine wonder and gratitude to millions of his supporters. But if you were expecting any explanations then obviously it's the wrong Khan you're tracking.
Close friends confess that though Khan took the verdict of five years imprisonment in his stride, he was really disturbed. But he decided not to show it.
Over the years, Khan's personal life has been dotted with many crimes of passion. The black buck incident apart, Khan is also fighting a hit and run case as well as the reputation of the worst boyfriend in the industry. His soap opera-ish dalliance with Aishwarya Rai is the stuff that Bollywood gossip rags are still thriving on. It's been six years and Rai has milked the I-Was-Salman's-Victim story to the hilt. But Khan chooses to keep silent.
The same law applies to everything that goes wrong. "While I'm doing something, I give it my 100 percent and once its done, it doesn't matter. I've always believed that nobody can break me because nobody made me," is his binding belief.
This insouciance is both, the most frustrating and fascinating aspect of Khan. His public demeanour suggests that he likes being the bad boy. It's almost as if Khan thinks of himself as a Springsteen like rock star who lives hard, parties hard and doesn't owe anyone an explanation. The swagger, the shirtless antics, the exasperating Southhall-meets-Manhattan-meets-Bandra accent and no explanations given: are all part of the Great Salman Khan Star Packaging.
Good friend Sushmita Sen takes up for him. "When people say Salman is the most misunderstood guy around, they're right. But Salman doesn't want to do anything about it. He says that if you've got to explain yourself, then the relationship doesn't have anything going for it."
Obviously he applies the same yardstick with his fans also. Till date, Khan has never told his side of the story. Ask Simi Garewal and Karan Johar. Garewal has been trying to get Khan on her Rendezvous show since the last three years. Johar used all his showbiz charm to get him on his couch for Koffee With Karan. But the Khan maintained that he has nothing to tell.
If it's an image then it suits him just fine. The obvious proof is the whopping box office returns of his movies. "Most of Salman's movies earn their recovery in the first three weeks itself because of the thumping initial he commands," says trade analyst Amod Mehra.
And because he is aware of this staunch fan base, he can afford to take the I-don't-give-a-damn stance. Mahesh Bhatt feels Salman is the endearing bad boy. "He has a vulnerable charm and people like his recklessness. They feel he is a badmash bachcha but since he's so charming on screen, he gets away with it," says Bhatt.
Nobody can blame Khan of being publicity conscious. He is every showbiz image consultant's worst nightmare. Yet he enjoys tremendous goodwill within as well as outside the fraternity. He has a reputation of being a friend's friend.
From giving free physique building tips to Hrithik Roshan in the beginning of his career to helping colleagues sell their movies at the cost of his name, Khan's generosity is well known. Recently, he helped out Revathy, Saawan Kumar Tak and Boney Kapoor with special appearances in movies like Phir Milenge, Saawan: The Love Season and No Entry respectively.
To Khan's advantage, he directly works on his audience. He patronizes the St Anthony's Old Age Home in Mumbai and makes sure that the proceeds of almost all his stage shows go there. Fellow actor Govinda vouches that Khan has a heart of gold. He narrates how Khan played saviour to an unknown accident victim a decade ago. "I was driving home quite late on a rainy night when I chanced upon an accident victim. I was debating what action to take when I noticed that Salman had also reached the place. Immediately he took charge. He assured me that he would take the boy to the hospital. He really took care of the boy," he says.
"Jis insaan ke dil mein itna dard ho woh aisi koi bhi galat harkat nahin kar sakta (A man with such a heart can never do anything wrong)," says Govinda.
In January, his car hit a school going girl. Khan took the girl to the hospital and dropped her home. The next day, he presented the little girl with a brand new bicycle. And no, he didn't call a press conference to boast his Good Samaritan act unlike most of his colleagues.
Khan gets away with most of what he does because he has never projected himself as larger than life. He's almost nonchalant about his celebrity hood. He cycles to work, walks his dogs, Myson and Myjaan on bandstand every morning and conducts his meetings at Barista. There have been instances when he's taken auto rickshaws to make a quick dash at the Subway outlet in Linking Road.
If Aamir Khan has acquired an image of an intellectual and Shah Rukh Khan as the quintessential middle class boy who became a youth icon, then Salman's USP is his absolute commitment to live life on his own terms.
He refuses to believe that he's a hero. "There are no heroes in this world. There are just human beings who are reacting in the right manner in non-ideal situations," he declared in a rare interview.
Those who know him say that he goes through life as an observer. There is an aura of detachment with everything that happens. He's never thrown a bash on a film's success neither does he runs to the cleaners if he's implicated in any scandal.
Sen says, "Over the years, he's really mellowed. He's gotten in touch with a part of himself that was always there. He's learned not to react to anything. In his personal life, he does everything for others and where work is concerned, he doesn't take it seriously and works only for himself."
No wonder he told a TV channel that though he was mentally prepared for a long haul in jail, he contemplated a jail break when he learnt of his mother (Salma)'s ill health post his verdict.
Now he's off for a series of stage shows. In the meantime, he's already sent a cheque to the Jodhpur jail authorities to construct better toilets.
The stuff heroes are made of?
For all those who wanted me to write about HIM! (Trust me, there were lots of u!!!)
It's a profile I dashed out for a magazine recently... Brickbats, bouquets, comments, Oh-iamme...bring it all on!
Here it is....
When Salman Khan walked out of the Jodhpur Jail clad in ganji and jeans, a top Bollywood actor remarked, "Look at him. It seems as if he's coming after a work out session in Gold Gym."
Khan's rival didn't intend the statement as a reproach. It was an affectionate acceptance of the way Khan chooses to live his life.
Mahendra Singh Dhoni didn't take off his shirt when ICC declared him as the Number One Batsman in the World. But Khan did a shirtless dance on the rooftop of his Bandstand home when he was granted bail.
In the normal course of his stardom, Khan shies away from media. But on this instance, all big and small television channels were granted candid one on ones. "That's because bhai wanted to thank his fans for their unflinching support in his hour of crisis. This was the only way he could reach out to them," says Khan's close aide.
Fair enough. All his sound bites reeked of genuine wonder and gratitude to millions of his supporters. But if you were expecting any explanations then obviously it's the wrong Khan you're tracking.
Close friends confess that though Khan took the verdict of five years imprisonment in his stride, he was really disturbed. But he decided not to show it.
Over the years, Khan's personal life has been dotted with many crimes of passion. The black buck incident apart, Khan is also fighting a hit and run case as well as the reputation of the worst boyfriend in the industry. His soap opera-ish dalliance with Aishwarya Rai is the stuff that Bollywood gossip rags are still thriving on. It's been six years and Rai has milked the I-Was-Salman's-Victim story to the hilt. But Khan chooses to keep silent.
The same law applies to everything that goes wrong. "While I'm doing something, I give it my 100 percent and once its done, it doesn't matter. I've always believed that nobody can break me because nobody made me," is his binding belief.
This insouciance is both, the most frustrating and fascinating aspect of Khan. His public demeanour suggests that he likes being the bad boy. It's almost as if Khan thinks of himself as a Springsteen like rock star who lives hard, parties hard and doesn't owe anyone an explanation. The swagger, the shirtless antics, the exasperating Southhall-meets-Manhattan-meets-Bandra accent and no explanations given: are all part of the Great Salman Khan Star Packaging.
Good friend Sushmita Sen takes up for him. "When people say Salman is the most misunderstood guy around, they're right. But Salman doesn't want to do anything about it. He says that if you've got to explain yourself, then the relationship doesn't have anything going for it."
Obviously he applies the same yardstick with his fans also. Till date, Khan has never told his side of the story. Ask Simi Garewal and Karan Johar. Garewal has been trying to get Khan on her Rendezvous show since the last three years. Johar used all his showbiz charm to get him on his couch for Koffee With Karan. But the Khan maintained that he has nothing to tell.
If it's an image then it suits him just fine. The obvious proof is the whopping box office returns of his movies. "Most of Salman's movies earn their recovery in the first three weeks itself because of the thumping initial he commands," says trade analyst Amod Mehra.
And because he is aware of this staunch fan base, he can afford to take the I-don't-give-a-damn stance. Mahesh Bhatt feels Salman is the endearing bad boy. "He has a vulnerable charm and people like his recklessness. They feel he is a badmash bachcha but since he's so charming on screen, he gets away with it," says Bhatt.
Nobody can blame Khan of being publicity conscious. He is every showbiz image consultant's worst nightmare. Yet he enjoys tremendous goodwill within as well as outside the fraternity. He has a reputation of being a friend's friend.
From giving free physique building tips to Hrithik Roshan in the beginning of his career to helping colleagues sell their movies at the cost of his name, Khan's generosity is well known. Recently, he helped out Revathy, Saawan Kumar Tak and Boney Kapoor with special appearances in movies like Phir Milenge, Saawan: The Love Season and No Entry respectively.
To Khan's advantage, he directly works on his audience. He patronizes the St Anthony's Old Age Home in Mumbai and makes sure that the proceeds of almost all his stage shows go there. Fellow actor Govinda vouches that Khan has a heart of gold. He narrates how Khan played saviour to an unknown accident victim a decade ago. "I was driving home quite late on a rainy night when I chanced upon an accident victim. I was debating what action to take when I noticed that Salman had also reached the place. Immediately he took charge. He assured me that he would take the boy to the hospital. He really took care of the boy," he says.
"Jis insaan ke dil mein itna dard ho woh aisi koi bhi galat harkat nahin kar sakta (A man with such a heart can never do anything wrong)," says Govinda.
In January, his car hit a school going girl. Khan took the girl to the hospital and dropped her home. The next day, he presented the little girl with a brand new bicycle. And no, he didn't call a press conference to boast his Good Samaritan act unlike most of his colleagues.
Khan gets away with most of what he does because he has never projected himself as larger than life. He's almost nonchalant about his celebrity hood. He cycles to work, walks his dogs, Myson and Myjaan on bandstand every morning and conducts his meetings at Barista. There have been instances when he's taken auto rickshaws to make a quick dash at the Subway outlet in Linking Road.
If Aamir Khan has acquired an image of an intellectual and Shah Rukh Khan as the quintessential middle class boy who became a youth icon, then Salman's USP is his absolute commitment to live life on his own terms.
He refuses to believe that he's a hero. "There are no heroes in this world. There are just human beings who are reacting in the right manner in non-ideal situations," he declared in a rare interview.
Those who know him say that he goes through life as an observer. There is an aura of detachment with everything that happens. He's never thrown a bash on a film's success neither does he runs to the cleaners if he's implicated in any scandal.
Sen says, "Over the years, he's really mellowed. He's gotten in touch with a part of himself that was always there. He's learned not to react to anything. In his personal life, he does everything for others and where work is concerned, he doesn't take it seriously and works only for himself."
No wonder he told a TV channel that though he was mentally prepared for a long haul in jail, he contemplated a jail break when he learnt of his mother (Salma)'s ill health post his verdict.
Now he's off for a series of stage shows. In the meantime, he's already sent a cheque to the Jodhpur jail authorities to construct better toilets.
The stuff heroes are made of?
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Allez Zizou!
“He smiles like St Teresa and grimaces like a serial killer.”
So said rock singer Jean-Louis Murat about the greatest conductor of football in the world, Zinedine Zidane.
Everything that has been said about the maestro is true.
If they say he’s the greatest footballer of his generation, they aren’t wrong. If they say he is in the same class as Pele and Diego Maradona, they are right. Yes, he has the grace of a dancer and the agility of a panther. For me, Zidane is a bald poet. Born with a sublime touch, he can do anything with the footy- tease, cajole, dominate and mock! He is football’s Pied Piper.
The world’s most complete footballer of the past 20 years, Zidane is an attack-minded midfielder like David Beckham, but unlike Beckham he can thread the ball through the middle of the field and his goal-scoring record is higher. He mesmerizes defenders with a repertoire of skills that range from drag-backs and flicks to cheeky little passes.
He is a wizard. And like all genius, Zizou has a temper too.
Yeah so he head butted Italian defender Materazzi. And yeah, maybe this cost Les Bleus the cup. If reports are to be believed then the unrefined Azzuri had it coming. Apparently, he taunted Zizou by calling him a “terrorist.” That’s a clear-cut racial slur against Zidane’s Algerian aka Muslim origins.
Nah, I’m not condoning Zizou’s outrageous act. It would have been best if he had ignored the idiot Italian and shown him the finger by lifting the cup. That would have been the best reply not just to Materazzi but also to everyone who approves of sledging.
But then Zizou too is human. He reacted on the spur of the moment. While the rest of the world will forget the incident soon enough, Zizou will have to live with it for the rest of his life.
Clanking with every honour the game has to bestow, Zidane is also burdened with the almost insupportable weight of France’s expectations. Go back to the era of 1998 when graffiti and rap songs declared “Zizou President” and the Algerian flag flew beside the French tricolour in the Champs Elysées. Just last year, he topped a newspaper poll as “the most popular Frenchman of all time”.
“I am not Zorro,” he insisted time and again. But for the French he will always remain a latter-day Joan of Arc. Why blame them? We all expect too much from our heroes. Maybe its because there are such few contenders of that tag.
Bet it must be hard being Zizou right now. God knows whether he’s an angel or a demon but he’s damn good on the field. Somehow if Zizou is on the field, you know he will do everything to win it. And for a soccer fan that’s what matters.
It’s ok Zizou. I know that sometimes, somethings can’t be explained even when understood.
“He smiles like St Teresa and grimaces like a serial killer.”
So said rock singer Jean-Louis Murat about the greatest conductor of football in the world, Zinedine Zidane.
Everything that has been said about the maestro is true.
If they say he’s the greatest footballer of his generation, they aren’t wrong. If they say he is in the same class as Pele and Diego Maradona, they are right. Yes, he has the grace of a dancer and the agility of a panther. For me, Zidane is a bald poet. Born with a sublime touch, he can do anything with the footy- tease, cajole, dominate and mock! He is football’s Pied Piper.
The world’s most complete footballer of the past 20 years, Zidane is an attack-minded midfielder like David Beckham, but unlike Beckham he can thread the ball through the middle of the field and his goal-scoring record is higher. He mesmerizes defenders with a repertoire of skills that range from drag-backs and flicks to cheeky little passes.
He is a wizard. And like all genius, Zizou has a temper too.
Yeah so he head butted Italian defender Materazzi. And yeah, maybe this cost Les Bleus the cup. If reports are to be believed then the unrefined Azzuri had it coming. Apparently, he taunted Zizou by calling him a “terrorist.” That’s a clear-cut racial slur against Zidane’s Algerian aka Muslim origins.
Nah, I’m not condoning Zizou’s outrageous act. It would have been best if he had ignored the idiot Italian and shown him the finger by lifting the cup. That would have been the best reply not just to Materazzi but also to everyone who approves of sledging.
But then Zizou too is human. He reacted on the spur of the moment. While the rest of the world will forget the incident soon enough, Zizou will have to live with it for the rest of his life.
Clanking with every honour the game has to bestow, Zidane is also burdened with the almost insupportable weight of France’s expectations. Go back to the era of 1998 when graffiti and rap songs declared “Zizou President” and the Algerian flag flew beside the French tricolour in the Champs Elysées. Just last year, he topped a newspaper poll as “the most popular Frenchman of all time”.
“I am not Zorro,” he insisted time and again. But for the French he will always remain a latter-day Joan of Arc. Why blame them? We all expect too much from our heroes. Maybe its because there are such few contenders of that tag.
Bet it must be hard being Zizou right now. God knows whether he’s an angel or a demon but he’s damn good on the field. Somehow if Zizou is on the field, you know he will do everything to win it. And for a soccer fan that’s what matters.
It’s ok Zizou. I know that sometimes, somethings can’t be explained even when understood.
I Choose To Be….
Jean Paul Satre’s loaded- “Je suis mes choix” (translated, I’m my choices) has always intrigued me. Every so often I find myself meditating on Sartre’s wicked choice of words.
Last night I ended up having an uber deep discussion about it with The-Man-In-My-Head. In case I forgot to mention, The-Man-In-My-Head has led quite a ahem, colourful life. He likes to say that he’s played the game on his terms.
He supplies a lot of such one-liners. Over the years, I’ve developed a pretty solid statement-detector. Now I can easily make out when something has to be stored in memory and when something has to be rejected out rightly as pure bullshit!
Anyway, this isn’t about him. It’s about choices. Without going into the non-interesting parts of the conversation, let me just re-tell a very ahem, “interesting” part of HIS speech.
Brace yourself. Here goes-
“I believe a great many people are born writer or artist, and die without ever realizing it. Books go unwritten, paintings unpainted. The fortunate ones are those who discover what they were meant to do. I might have been an excellent soccer player; I might have been an excellent writer. If I’d tried to do both, I’d have been no more than mediocre. I chose not to be mediocre.”
Pretty loaded, right? But pretty nonetheless. Don’t know if you identify with it but last night, this was just what I needed to hear.
Everything is about choices: What you want to be? Who you are today? How are you feeling? Who you want to be with?
Rest all is mere technicality.
Jean Paul Satre’s loaded- “Je suis mes choix” (translated, I’m my choices) has always intrigued me. Every so often I find myself meditating on Sartre’s wicked choice of words.
Last night I ended up having an uber deep discussion about it with The-Man-In-My-Head. In case I forgot to mention, The-Man-In-My-Head has led quite a ahem, colourful life. He likes to say that he’s played the game on his terms.
He supplies a lot of such one-liners. Over the years, I’ve developed a pretty solid statement-detector. Now I can easily make out when something has to be stored in memory and when something has to be rejected out rightly as pure bullshit!
Anyway, this isn’t about him. It’s about choices. Without going into the non-interesting parts of the conversation, let me just re-tell a very ahem, “interesting” part of HIS speech.
Brace yourself. Here goes-
“I believe a great many people are born writer or artist, and die without ever realizing it. Books go unwritten, paintings unpainted. The fortunate ones are those who discover what they were meant to do. I might have been an excellent soccer player; I might have been an excellent writer. If I’d tried to do both, I’d have been no more than mediocre. I chose not to be mediocre.”
Pretty loaded, right? But pretty nonetheless. Don’t know if you identify with it but last night, this was just what I needed to hear.
Everything is about choices: What you want to be? Who you are today? How are you feeling? Who you want to be with?
Rest all is mere technicality.
Monday, June 12, 2006
A Very Sorry Tale
One day, you'll land me in a hospital."
Ok, so he also said that I'll land him in jail/mental asylum/ purgatory
/Bermuda Triangle. So technically he should be happy that he still has four more chances. But then he’s never been happy with too little. (Sigh!)
My bad luck that this time he has full right to crow because its strike one Iamme!
You see, I did send him to the hospital.
And obviously my LIGHTHOUSE (that’s him by the way) is not very happy. But then he's never had a high opinion of me! And though I've made a lifetime of showing I don't give a damn about what he thinks, the fact is I do.
And since I can’t tell him in person about how very/ absolutely/ acutely/awfully/certainly/deeply/emphatically/exceedingly/extremely/greatly/highly/positively/ profoundly/really/remarkably/terribly/truly SORRY I’m for being the reason he is lying unshaven on a hospital bed…I’m doing it here. (Well, there is also the certainty that he’ll never visit this blog so I can be really really honest…hehe!)
Anyway, let me reconstruct what happened on the fateful night of June 7. PS: I won’t forget THAT moment as long as I live. Considering that I’ve only 29,693 such moments in my 26 years, you better take this seriously.
So this is what happened…
Me (Very crabby after spending 19 hours in office): “Yeah, what’s up?”
LIGHTHOUSE (Driving his Lancer): “I’m in Delhi. What have you been up to?”
Me (Munching on a very bad apple…yuck): “Just…what’s up with you?”
LIGHTHOUSE (Cruising along nicely now on some Delhi flyover): “Just…heard Salman Khan had a new hair-weave!”
Me (Making a face): “Yeah, in London.”
LIGHTHOUSE (Honking): “No, I heard it was in Canada.”
Me (Agitated): “Puhlease, I know better than you.”
LIGHTHOUSE (Honking+ Cruising): “No, I’m telling you it was Toronto. A friend has a salon and he told me.”
Me (Throwing my apple in the bin): “It was London.”
LIGHTHOUSE (Honking furiously): “Toronto”
Me (Pacing the floor): “London.”
Suddenly a loud noise and his phone started emitting a loud siren like long beep…….eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeppppppppppppppppp
Me (Heart thudding): “Hello Lighthouse, can you hear me? What have you done to your phone?”
No response from the other end.
This part is edited because I can never really describe what I went through during this time.
CUT TO 7 minutes and 55 seconds later. I called his number and some alien voice picked up.
Alien Voice: “This person has had an accident and we’re taking him to Apollo Hospital.”
Devastation. Oops I did it again moment!
Frantic calls to Understanding boss and World’s best father. Both urge me to just leave for Delhi. I did.
And spent an entire day praying/fighting/transacting with God. LIGHTHOUSE was in deep sleep for one full day. His family was informed. Thankfully, when his parents landed, LIGHTHOUSE opened his beautiful light eyes.
And the light came back in my life.
I know, he doesn’t hold me guilty for this mishap. But I know better. Anyway, we have the rest of my life to sort this out. Right now, I just want to welcome him back. And to say again that I’m sorry.
Thank god, he won’t be reading this!
One day, you'll land me in a hospital."
Ok, so he also said that I'll land him in jail/mental asylum/ purgatory
/Bermuda Triangle. So technically he should be happy that he still has four more chances. But then he’s never been happy with too little. (Sigh!)
My bad luck that this time he has full right to crow because its strike one Iamme!
You see, I did send him to the hospital.
And obviously my LIGHTHOUSE (that’s him by the way) is not very happy. But then he's never had a high opinion of me! And though I've made a lifetime of showing I don't give a damn about what he thinks, the fact is I do.
And since I can’t tell him in person about how very/ absolutely/ acutely/awfully/certainly/deeply/emphatically/exceedingly/extremely/greatly/highly/positively/ profoundly/really/remarkably/terribly/truly SORRY I’m for being the reason he is lying unshaven on a hospital bed…I’m doing it here. (Well, there is also the certainty that he’ll never visit this blog so I can be really really honest…hehe!)
Anyway, let me reconstruct what happened on the fateful night of June 7. PS: I won’t forget THAT moment as long as I live. Considering that I’ve only 29,693 such moments in my 26 years, you better take this seriously.
So this is what happened…
Me (Very crabby after spending 19 hours in office): “Yeah, what’s up?”
LIGHTHOUSE (Driving his Lancer): “I’m in Delhi. What have you been up to?”
Me (Munching on a very bad apple…yuck): “Just…what’s up with you?”
LIGHTHOUSE (Cruising along nicely now on some Delhi flyover): “Just…heard Salman Khan had a new hair-weave!”
Me (Making a face): “Yeah, in London.”
LIGHTHOUSE (Honking): “No, I heard it was in Canada.”
Me (Agitated): “Puhlease, I know better than you.”
LIGHTHOUSE (Honking+ Cruising): “No, I’m telling you it was Toronto. A friend has a salon and he told me.”
Me (Throwing my apple in the bin): “It was London.”
LIGHTHOUSE (Honking furiously): “Toronto”
Me (Pacing the floor): “London.”
Suddenly a loud noise and his phone started emitting a loud siren like long beep…….eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeppppppppppppppppp
Me (Heart thudding): “Hello Lighthouse, can you hear me? What have you done to your phone?”
No response from the other end.
This part is edited because I can never really describe what I went through during this time.
CUT TO 7 minutes and 55 seconds later. I called his number and some alien voice picked up.
Alien Voice: “This person has had an accident and we’re taking him to Apollo Hospital.”
Devastation. Oops I did it again moment!
Frantic calls to Understanding boss and World’s best father. Both urge me to just leave for Delhi. I did.
And spent an entire day praying/fighting/transacting with God. LIGHTHOUSE was in deep sleep for one full day. His family was informed. Thankfully, when his parents landed, LIGHTHOUSE opened his beautiful light eyes.
And the light came back in my life.
I know, he doesn’t hold me guilty for this mishap. But I know better. Anyway, we have the rest of my life to sort this out. Right now, I just want to welcome him back. And to say again that I’m sorry.
Thank god, he won’t be reading this!
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
The Heartbreak Kid
The day I met Manu, I was nursing the worst kind of heartache. My most precious-pretty-plastic-pink-pencil box was suddenly declared missing by my brother. Since it was his responsibility of making sure that the prettiness remains in my life, can you blame me when I decided to never speak to him?
Anyway, since I don't want to remember past hurts, let me quickly get on to the real topic.
Manu.... the most special boy in my life.
The first thing the then-six-years-old-boy did when he looked at the sulking me was to laugh uproariously. He threw back his head and…just laughed. You can imagine what that did to my already splintered heart!
Apparently his laughter had an equal and opposite reaction to my lachrymals. I cried buckets. But Manu wouldn't stop laughing! Insulting. Embarrassing. Humiliating. Awkward. Bewildering. Compromising and Very Confusing.
Once the torrent was over, I went up to his mother and enquired quite belligerently if her son was mad. The pretty lady looked at me, smiled and whispered, "Yes, Manu is special."
The import of her comment went unnoticed to the ditzy, melodramatic 12-years-old that I was (at that time). I could just stand there, stare at him and call him a basket!! I don't think I was this miserable ever.
When we got home (the incident happened at a family friend's place) my mother informed me Manu was an autistic child. I didn’t know what that was. So, mom made me read up on autism. I did. And life changed for me.
Manu was instrumental in my decision to study psychology in college. Manu also became the trigger point for an important learning: that doctors and medicine don’t always have all the answers.
Over the years, Manu and I have kept in touch. Everybody around him tells me that he is quite fond of me. And that our first meeting was quite historic. Apparently, Manu rarely smiled. And I managed to make him laugh…
Now Manu is 20 years old. He hardly talks to me, doesn’t let me touch him at all…but somehow whenever he sees me… he laughs.
I don’t mind the laughter anymore. Because I know it’s only for me.
Love him!
The day I met Manu, I was nursing the worst kind of heartache. My most precious-pretty-plastic-pink-pencil box was suddenly declared missing by my brother. Since it was his responsibility of making sure that the prettiness remains in my life, can you blame me when I decided to never speak to him?
Anyway, since I don't want to remember past hurts, let me quickly get on to the real topic.
Manu.... the most special boy in my life.
The first thing the then-six-years-old-boy did when he looked at the sulking me was to laugh uproariously. He threw back his head and…just laughed. You can imagine what that did to my already splintered heart!
Apparently his laughter had an equal and opposite reaction to my lachrymals. I cried buckets. But Manu wouldn't stop laughing! Insulting. Embarrassing. Humiliating. Awkward. Bewildering. Compromising and Very Confusing.
Once the torrent was over, I went up to his mother and enquired quite belligerently if her son was mad. The pretty lady looked at me, smiled and whispered, "Yes, Manu is special."
The import of her comment went unnoticed to the ditzy, melodramatic 12-years-old that I was (at that time). I could just stand there, stare at him and call him a basket!! I don't think I was this miserable ever.
When we got home (the incident happened at a family friend's place) my mother informed me Manu was an autistic child. I didn’t know what that was. So, mom made me read up on autism. I did. And life changed for me.
Manu was instrumental in my decision to study psychology in college. Manu also became the trigger point for an important learning: that doctors and medicine don’t always have all the answers.
Over the years, Manu and I have kept in touch. Everybody around him tells me that he is quite fond of me. And that our first meeting was quite historic. Apparently, Manu rarely smiled. And I managed to make him laugh…
Now Manu is 20 years old. He hardly talks to me, doesn’t let me touch him at all…but somehow whenever he sees me… he laughs.
I don’t mind the laughter anymore. Because I know it’s only for me.
Love him!
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
P.S. Aamir!!
Bye bye George Clooney. Hello Aamir Khan. Agreed Aamir doesn’t do what George does to a shirt but heck, Finally we also have a poster boy activist like the Cool George.
Aamir’s journey from chocolate boy actor to activist has been very riveting. His recent liberal activism and unabashed political views have made it to headline-attracting public prominence. But I’m not sure he is enjoying the limelight.
Somehow the script has gone horribly wrong for him. And knowing how particular Aamir is about the small stuff, he really must be upset.
Strictly speaking, I’m not an Aamir Khan fan. But I genuinely feel that the recent Aamir bashing is unwarranted. Who the hell cares whether Aamir Khan knows the length of the damned dam or not? What matters is that he became the voice of thousands of nameless, faceless people.
It takes courage to answer a call. As it is, the fraternity that Aamir belongs to is notorious for their code of silence. So when Aamir comes out and takes up a cause, instead of supporting him, what do we do? Run him down for being anti Gujarat and BJP etc etc. Come on people; let’s quit living in 3rd rock from the sun.
It’s really ironical. First, they blame him for being damned materialistic and hardcore selfish. (Do-you-know-he-asked-for-eight-crore-from-Aditya Chopra-was Bollywood’s big question till the time Fanaa released.) Now they blame him for having an opinion. (Aamir Khan is an actor and he should just sing and dance, Gujarat CM has supposed to have said something to this effect).
So basically, he is damned if he does and damned if he earns!
Come on guys, give the guy a break. Just have some thande ka tadka! Or watch him smolder in Fanaa.
Bye bye George Clooney. Hello Aamir Khan. Agreed Aamir doesn’t do what George does to a shirt but heck, Finally we also have a poster boy activist like the Cool George.
Aamir’s journey from chocolate boy actor to activist has been very riveting. His recent liberal activism and unabashed political views have made it to headline-attracting public prominence. But I’m not sure he is enjoying the limelight.
Somehow the script has gone horribly wrong for him. And knowing how particular Aamir is about the small stuff, he really must be upset.
Strictly speaking, I’m not an Aamir Khan fan. But I genuinely feel that the recent Aamir bashing is unwarranted. Who the hell cares whether Aamir Khan knows the length of the damned dam or not? What matters is that he became the voice of thousands of nameless, faceless people.
It takes courage to answer a call. As it is, the fraternity that Aamir belongs to is notorious for their code of silence. So when Aamir comes out and takes up a cause, instead of supporting him, what do we do? Run him down for being anti Gujarat and BJP etc etc. Come on people; let’s quit living in 3rd rock from the sun.
It’s really ironical. First, they blame him for being damned materialistic and hardcore selfish. (Do-you-know-he-asked-for-eight-crore-from-Aditya Chopra-was Bollywood’s big question till the time Fanaa released.) Now they blame him for having an opinion. (Aamir Khan is an actor and he should just sing and dance, Gujarat CM has supposed to have said something to this effect).
So basically, he is damned if he does and damned if he earns!
Come on guys, give the guy a break. Just have some thande ka tadka! Or watch him smolder in Fanaa.
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
The Man-In-My-Head
Okay, now its time to introduce someone from my life.
I’ve known him since I was three. Or rather I became aware of his presence at that age.
He’s someone I know very well. He’s someone I still want to know. There are days when I think I’ve figured him out. And then I feel I’ve yet to go past introduction stage.
He doesn’t have a name. He’s the Man-In-My-Head.
I don’t know his age but I know he’s wise. I don’t know his sun sign but I know he has hidden depths, fiery desires and soaring dreams. I don’t know what he looks like. But I’d like to believe he has the looks of Robert Redford, the smile of Tom Cruise, the easy sexuality of George Clooney and the voice of Heath Ledger.
He listens to me. He talks to me. He questions me. He replies to me. He’s just…. there.
Every morning he supplies me with a thought of the day. Then he pushes me to think about it the whole day. And just when I’m ready to call it a night, he gives me a learning of the day.
The Man-In-My-Head is colourful. He’s adventurous. He’s ballsy. He’s entertaining. He’s irritating. And he thinks he’s right most of the time.
You’ll be hearing a lot about him. So I thought I’ll just…you know, mention him.
PS: Today’s thought of the day: "People change. They end up having nothing to say to each other even if they were best friends years before."
Sunday, March 26, 2006
Right Said Freddie
I wasn’t supposed to start with him. But he just refuses to leave my mind space. So I decided to give him the due respect of the day.
There is something about Andrew Flintoff that makes me go mmmmm… Till about three years ago, the only aspect I noticed about him were his lascivious lips (cherry red and so full that it’s criminal.)
Yeah yeah, he can hammer a few and bowl a couple too. But that don’t impress me much…at least when he’s giving it to My Men In Blue!
I like Freddie because he’s conquered his mid-twenties life crisis and come into his own. He enjoyed his phase of beach bummin’. Lived in the fast lane. But eventually chose to answer the knock of his true calling—cricket.
He fought substance abuse___in his case beer and chocolates. (The latter I couldn’t care about even if God forced me to… But the former…oh man, I understand Freddie!!!!)
He faced the Weight Devil and from a very huge maan (as Geoffrey Boycott would say), he became Inzamam-ul-Haq’s role model.
Currently, he’s International Cricket’s latest blue-eyed boy. But does Freddie give a damn? You bet the Union Jack, he doesn’t. And that’s what his appeal is.
Does it bother him an iota that he has been given a half-baked team to captain? That he was the last minute choice of captain after Michael Vaughan took ill? No way.
Freddie just goes about his job…taking each day as it dawns. With the trademark chewing gum in his mouth and those blasted strokes in his armory… he just plays.
Now, here is a man who will go on even after he hangs his bat n’ ball. Cricket doesn’t define him. Fun and enjoying the game that he truly loves does.
And that’s what I like in a man who matters.
Of course there are those lips too! But that’s for another game…
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
Men
Some like watches. Some dig heels. I like men.
Nah, it isn’t an Electra complex. I’m a psychology major so I’ve analyzed all my leanings quite neurotically. Yeah, yeah…you never really know! But life is all about premises right? What appeals right here, right now…that’s what we go with.
Anyway, now that I’ve sufficiently proved my premise, let me inform you (if you haven’t guessed already) I have very strong likes. And even stronger dislikes. But that’s for another day.
I dedicate this space to the men who matter. The little boy in my nursery class who told me with the best intensity of a four year old---“You have pretty teeth.”
The university friend who once recited Robert Frost’s A Rose Is A Rose with a strange look in his eye.
My cosmic twin because of whom I send a prayer of thanks to my family that they forced me to spend the summer after my Xth boards in Delhi.
The lighthouse of my life who…just is.
The brother who makes me laugh when I most want to kill him.
The dad (ahem…can see Lady Electra sneering) who makes me believe every day I’m the king (we don’t believe in gender here, you know!) of the world.
This space is also devoted to the men in my head. Those who engage me in such seductive conversations that I forget they are in my head. The screen heroes, the book characters, the actors, the singers…who help me find the magic in life everyday without fail.
Here’s to all of them.
Some like watches. Some dig heels. I like men.
Nah, it isn’t an Electra complex. I’m a psychology major so I’ve analyzed all my leanings quite neurotically. Yeah, yeah…you never really know! But life is all about premises right? What appeals right here, right now…that’s what we go with.
Anyway, now that I’ve sufficiently proved my premise, let me inform you (if you haven’t guessed already) I have very strong likes. And even stronger dislikes. But that’s for another day.
I dedicate this space to the men who matter. The little boy in my nursery class who told me with the best intensity of a four year old---“You have pretty teeth.”
The university friend who once recited Robert Frost’s A Rose Is A Rose with a strange look in his eye.
My cosmic twin because of whom I send a prayer of thanks to my family that they forced me to spend the summer after my Xth boards in Delhi.
The lighthouse of my life who…just is.
The brother who makes me laugh when I most want to kill him.
The dad (ahem…can see Lady Electra sneering) who makes me believe every day I’m the king (we don’t believe in gender here, you know!) of the world.
This space is also devoted to the men in my head. Those who engage me in such seductive conversations that I forget they are in my head. The screen heroes, the book characters, the actors, the singers…who help me find the magic in life everyday without fail.
Here’s to all of them.
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