Kaheen D'Aag lage lag jaye!

Though, it's more than two weeks since Laaga Chunari mein daag has been released, and it might be redundant to speak about it now; I find it imperative to speak about some of the issues about the movie which critics and audience have both disowned.

As director Pradeep Sarkar himself said that predicting the story line and its flow within 20 minutes of watching the film was certainly a no brainer, and it was all too evident from the promos itself what the story would be. So, whoever entered the theater hoping to catch more of 'Natasha' than 'Vibha' was sorely disappointed after not getting to see Rani Mukherjee in Neha 'Julie' Dhupia mode, mouthing suggestive dialogs .

The second grouse against the movie was it's poor acting by Rani and 'over' acting by Jaya Bachchan. I, hereby, must it make it very clear that unlike many others; I don't hold Jaya Bachchan's acting capability in high regard. To me she has been very repetitive in her expressions, always chose a certain kind of roles which suited her persona and she got lucky with a few roles where she excelled because either the director was as brillant as hrishikesh mukherjee or gulzar. However, I had to eat my words when I saw her perform in this film. She played a hapless mother torn between her ailing frustrated husband and daughter gone astray. Critics were unanimous to declare her performance a fixed expression wonder- perpetually carrying a scowl on face with epileptic facial movements. To say such a thing is real absurd, and I term this insolence as nothing but ignorance on part of critics having never stepped out of their bombay glass houses. I was so amazed to the subtleties she brought to her performance, her body language and expressions was something that I had encountered in thousands of women in UP. Shahrukh Khan whose expressions and body language have never changed in any film irrespective of the fact whether he was playing a bengali drunkard or a football coach in Newyork, yet crtics go ga- ga over him. So when I see somebody at least attempting to bring a realistic touch by changing their body language or accent-- which does not happen very often--it shows there is still hope for some acting in bollywood. Jaya Bachchan's stint in UP politics and her association must have brought her in contact with such women, and I must say she has done a good job of it, which could have become a caricature of sorts if handled ineptly by a lesser actress.

Now, if we come to Rani who is a fine actress and brings a certain honesty to her roles, has not let down her fans by a poor performance. She was dependable and good in most of her scenes. However, The toast of the critic was Koko. I have mentioned in my previous post that I feel that she is the best actress in India right now. But, certainly this was not her best role, and one does not have to bring down Rani by being effusive about the other actress who in her own wayz was extremely good.

Btw, if anyone has still not figured out, I didn't like the movie myself. And I know who is to blame. It was Pradeep Sarkaar who could not bring any freshness to the old story, the way he had done with Parineeta. Or, perhaps he was too lost in making the shots look too perfect that he forgot about the story and emotional graph. In todays time, if you bring a good set of technicians they will make sure the aesthetics are in place, and a Director must never forget what his job is all about.

Melonchalic Madness

It's weird. In fact, I feel it's very weird that I am having some kinda ostrich burying her head in sands thing. I am avoiding happy people, or perhaps I have been avoiding happy people for years.

There was a time when I despite being sad, used to feel happy about other's happiness. Maybe feeling happy myself for their happiness. But, now I treat happiness as some sort of sin. For me, being happy is crime and when I look at seemingly happy people, the first thing I try to look for some hint of concealment of their sadness, as it has become impossible for me to believe people can be happy.

Last few years have been very tough on me, where each day came with a new set of problems surmounting the previous one. Each night before going to sleep, I used to tell myself it couldn't get any worse, knowing well in advance-from my past experience- that things are going to get exactly opposite of what I expect. I considered myself as a brave roman warrior, taking on challenges one after another, in isolation and clandestine. There were things that I couldn't share with my friends or family, without belittling my own sense of pride of bearing it all alone. And more importantly, I never expected people to understand what it actually was.

Now, when that period is over, scars are left -- hidden and deep -- and I look seemingly happy to others. I got most of the things I wanted from my life, leaving behind things that I always felt will be there for me. And , now, when they are not there for me, I have nothing but to ruminate over the bargain I made with life.

A little note to Chrisann, I have not been reading your blog -- I am scared even to open that page, thinking it will be too bright and sunny for me -- it's so strange that I am avoiding people on blogs too..May be, you have a theory to explain my behavior!!

Home Truths part II

After my last post, I have suddenly discovered writing about 'home truths' is as much fun as reading them in assorted magazines ( One of my favorite section in any magazine, specially the seedy hindi type)..Last night when I hit bed, the only time when my starts thinking coherently - for too little time, as I get too tired on a regular day - I started thinking about the life I led as a child. Today, when I look around and see parents going out of their way to manage the lives of their kids, I envy, at the same time, feel blessed not have such haranguing parents. More importantly, as a kid, I always used to think, my life is devoid of any color and fun. I used to hear people talking about city life and the range of activities it offers. It was all so enticing at that time, and I used to feel so cheated as to why on earth I have to live in a town where people have no culture, social life or scandals.

Scandals: Interesting word. Life is what happens to you, when you are busy making other plans. Little did I know, that the life I am leading has scandals all around. ( When I look back, I feel there so many scandals all around me that I can guest write a few episodes of Desperate Housewives, and may be better than what their writers do.) But, the amazing part is that I never got any sugarcoated/ simplified version of things that might suit a child's wild imagination, as parents of today like to believe that they have to protect their child from all such gyans. but, not the people I knew of. They were blase and open about it, even discussing it in front of the children ( with careful selection of words, so not to give much, but I was smarter than they thought). Today I can see that they did not wear their morality on their sleeves, They all knew that everyone is upto something and the best policy is to live and let live, instead off making a huge tamasha of the whole thing. So, adultery, pedophilia, bestiality, suicides and homosexuality were the staple affairs of the people where I grew up with.

Speaking of homosexuality, let me recall the first gay couple I knew of. I must have been some seven or eight years old, and used to play with all the kids from the colony where I lived. There were different informal groups where kids of certain age used to play together, me too playing with kids of the same age bracket. I saw a young boy, barely sixteen or seventeen, who started coming to play with us. He was tall , good looking and wore stylish clothes ( That included wearing crochet vests-so popular with Muslim folks then, and perhaps Mithun Chakravarti had worn them at that time in one his movies- which show more of your body than cover it). To add to his charm was, the cigarettes that he used to smoke. the fact that he was young and could smoke so freely in front of others fascinated me a lot. For me it was some kind of independence assertion. However, the fact that he smoked made him a pariah for at least me. ( Thinking of it now, it amuses me the reasoning of mother that smoking is so much worse than being gay). So, I had been told not to get much close to him lest he offers me something to chew/ eat or smoke ( I realize now he had other things than cigarettes he could have offered). But the point is, this fellow, Hassan, perhaps this was his name, was not from the colony and had a openly gay relationship with one of its inhabitants. The paramour of Hassan was no less extra ordinary. To begin with, he must have been of fifty at that time with a wife, around three or four kids and two grandchildren and a daughter- in -law, all living under the same one room house. His youngest son, who was not more than three-four year old than me, used to come to our house and played with me often. I still remember him telling my mom that Hassan lived like his mom in their household. I could not get this expression and wondered how this guy, all masculine and manly, be living like his mom who always wears saris and makeup. It baffled me, but not for long. Birds and bees were in the offing, and with my acquired knowledge I could put two and two together. What, till today, intrigues me is the acceptance of their relationship by his wife, his family and the society at large. Today, when gay people feel discrimination, persecution and are often butt of joke in raunchy hindi movies, I am often reminded of this episode, how in the heart of small town India, people accepted such a thing without fuss and let others live their life. And yea, they did gossip ..as it was the only thing that gave them succor from their daily grind, but moral policing. No, that was not their game!!

Shall I say Home Truths?

I am trying to write about my father, who is right now sitting in the next room trying to watch third India Australia ODI with undiminished enthusiasm, inspite of constant wicket fall on Indian side. I had promised Fortunata that I will write about my father in my next post, but later on I realized that it will be so much difficult to even give a snapshot of his personality in some 800 words. But, surely, I will try.

He was the person who married my mom and brought me and my sister to this earth. The reason I am stating this fact is that it was no ordinary arrangement. The marriage was his second and first for my mother. There are different versions of the story told by different people on why they got married. Different reasons and rationalization were handed out to explain this unlikely match. I still have not been able to collate all versions together and form an arc. I think Love Marriage is what people used to call this arrangement in places I grew up, and it was sacrilegious and forbidden for most of them. I was so much embarrassed by this word: love marriage. Everybody felt, at the time of their liaison, that it was nothing out of place. Many others have done this in the past and many will do, and it is just a matter of time before he leaves her for his 'legitimate' wife.

Our lives were in a constant state of paranoia, what if he actually does it, leaving two children with a woman with no income or fortune or a home to return to.

But, he never did it. And yes, I am thankful to him for that.