The eternal symbol of love

' Dude you can never miss it. This is one time life experience'
I didn't have the will to argue. I wanted to go out and meet my old buddies and laze around. It seemed this guys aren't going to allow me. They wanted to visit Taj Mahal , which is some four hour journey. I'm already enjoying the tag of male chauvnist and anti social. If I still refuse to go out, these guys may term me as a Nazi. Hence I decided to set out for one of the modern wonders of the world.

Now the symbol of pompous love isqqqq situated in one of the most crowded , polluted and poorest locales in India. The dust and heat has to be experienced. My friend got out ofip the car to take a pee and decided against it in fear of burning his vital organ.

The police suddenly decided  to blockade a road for no obvious reason and we were treated to even more dusty and winding rout. But inspite of all these inhuman habitat, there thrived a mass of humanity. And the women here are so white and beautiful. I wanted to get out of taxi and enquire.

The unforseen blockade helped us reach the monument at peak afternoon. We downed some beer for strength to stand the scorching sun. After waiting endlessly for the ticket we were given the killer blow. We had to do away with the shoes and walk the talk on frying marble grounds. But still the first sight was breathtaking. The first sight of a monument, which I've seen only in photos. I post it here. The beauty which emperor took so many years to build. All for his wife. She must have been damn hot for all these troubles.

But a closer look can reduce the fascination a bit. The stones have yellowed a bit. Many of the precious stones are rumored to be stolen. You get to see only a glimpse of the crematorium when police shoves you away.

I sat down for a brief respite from the hot sun. The crowd came down from all parts of India. Right from top to bottom. There were even a.few trans genders roaming around. Now the emperor would never have bargained for it. A bunch of sweating, unruly, impatient mob purposelessly moving around.

Movie review - Ishqazzade (Hindi)

I am no fan of Yash films. But I was a fan once, who pretends to be enlightened now. The  clone films coming one after another from Yash studios nearly reduced it to a laughing stock.
Today I was about to get into an enlightened movie when the friends forced me into the ' Ishqazade'. I had trouble in pronouncing the name to the ticket vendor and was very unsure about what I was getting onto.

The best thing is Yash films have come around a full circle. They were once upon-a-time-trendsetter of Hindi cinema. Sadly they lost the edge to new age , corporate churned cinema. But they kept on pushing thanks to nostalgia and patronship of film magazine editors. Thankfully the wise men in the production house decided to do away with the tried and tested method . Considering this fact , the movie is new and fresh. Hence I'm quite surprised.

The movie is shot on back drop of rustic politics of central India. Not so long ago Mumbai underworld was a trending theme in Bollywood. Then it shifted to foreign locales and NRI sob stories. Now Delhi and UP are the places which stimulates our Desi directors' creativity.
Taking the cue from the current taste its all about blood, violence, uninhibited passions.

The characters too are cast in a different mould. The woman is fiesty, gun totting, bad mouthed bitch. She loves to indulge in her dad's political career, dances with 'dancing girls'. In short she's the manifestation of the neo feminism. The hero boy is much baddie than the villain guys. He beats up and shoots without any moral reason. He drinks a lot but doesn't think much.

The camera and lighting is exemplary. The colour tone just suits the landscape. The songs are all good and so is background score. Thankfully.the music has bid farewell to the Lata Mangeshkar era. May be the Chopra boys have atlast come into term with the fact that people do age and so does the stories.

The movie opens up with a blast. Then the treatment takes the usual slow turn. I even found time to text a beautiful bitch throughout the movie. The story gets stuck at parts and goes on winding there until it comes out of the lacunae.

Then there are some ideological inconsistencies in parts through the movie which can be again blamed on half baked script. If you are stuck at a spot, you got to come out of it through any stupid method possible. This is where Anna Veeticad's view on anti feminist treatment comes into relevance. May be the writers must have got a basic thread with no clue on how to develop it.
This resulted in a really tart of a message coming out in the end.

The idea of shifting the scene to a brothel house deserved lots of claps. But sadly it stayed there for too long with no much reason. Similarily is girl breaking into hero's house. Better don't think of it. Only Yash has an answer if he has any.

The final solution for Yash films is to throw out Aditya from the writers job and save the house

Sights and sounds of Mumbai Ch:05

Right from the airport you witness large and extra large hoardings for the Hindi film. Saif Ali Khan looks menacing and almost resembles a Desi Bond. It was soon to be one of the biggest flops in Indian history. The arrival of corporate production houses was supposed to herald end of superstardom and more democracy for the meaningful cinema. But still a handful rule the roost. The mainstream Hinglish dailies deal with the parties they went to the last night and even their say on moral, economic, social scenario. They still are not judged by the merit of their work. Or may be they have a different sets of merit criteria.

Then next comes the  numerous hoardings on financial services and banks. The handsome guy in poster offers to double your investment without any risk involved. Remember Mumbai hosts the Indian version of wall street. Financial advisory has become one lucrative job in India. It promises to reap you sheafs of gold. Still the stories of the failed are refused to be talked about.

The railway stations are filled with posters singing gratitude to the son of soil Sachin for his contribution to Indian cricket and Indian pride. Days ago he puffed and heaved to century of centuries , after a long wait and against a mediocre side.

So why all these adulation for people who does nothing but get rich? Right from the underworld days to the liberalised era, the powerful were worshipped- atleast until dethroned.
Yes, the city carry the dreams of a million. The elusive dream  constantly lingers in the hoardings, posters, billboards, skycrapers, multiplex etc.

But  price of the dream hasn't come very easy. I take ar stroll around the Indian gate. There's a literal police fortress around the Taj. It has been years since the attack.
I went for a visit to the Mumbai High court , trying to locate the entrance. A cop with automatic gun sprang up from a heap of sand bag. I was startled, but the good man just wanted to show the entrance.

Leopold  cafe arguably benefited immensely from the famous terrorist attack. The place is known for the beer lager, huge bills you run upto, indifferent waiters and bullet marks on the walls. I kept staring onto the bullet holes. Then I noticed the bullet marks are no longer an attraction.
The atmosphere gives an impression of the 'resilience' of the Mumbaikars.

Or is the right word insensitivity? Indifference?

Movie review - Mallu Singh (Malayalam)

There's a category for the 'feel good movie'. They are loud, pointless, breathe taking. At the end of it you feel like just having  masturbated. You felt good, but regret for wasting it.

There's some sort of lame story. There are beautiful girls, dances and a hot item. There are plenty of slow mo fights to bore you. For a change Suraj cracks clean, good jokes.

The best part is the hero Unni Mukundan. Another hulk with plenty of muscles and great attitude. He did carry the predictable story very well. Although the character didn't test him much. K Boban, supposedly on the return from ashes tries to do a lame aping of Dileep. The women are hot.

Malayalam cinema is facing a dangerous trend of shortage in support caste. The same crew does the same boring roles. The old men try to pass off as sweet teenagers. And they do some real wierd hair do. The heroes use plenty of editors' knives to feign the style. Bits and parts are borrowed from all parts of India. Absolutely no creativity

I've never seen a worse lighting. The story board is too amateurish.

And ...sheesh..not worth it

Sights and sounds of Mumbai Ch:4

Once upon a time , not so long ago, the dark boy shining shoes was the post card Mumbai. Today you may not find him. The naked poverty seems to have gone away. In place of the shoe shining boy or the gold biscuit smuggler, there are executives in prim clothes rushing off in the suburbs. They've their mobile phones to make deals even when on trains.

Take a closer look into the crowded suburban train. It's said to be the show piece of the financial capital. There is a palpable tension in the air. Men from different castes and backgrounds are squeezed together into pulp. There's the rush to get out in your station, when the people are trying to get in settting off a stampede. There's curses and obscenities in languages you barely understand. Old people fight for survival with the young, rich with the poor. There's an unmistakable human stench in the train as you wait breathless, under someone's armpit for your station.

People jump out, rush for a bus, do two or three shifts come back late at night to wake up early morning for the routine. Mumbai has all the trappings of a happening city. Except that there's no equivalent  quality return for the amount you put in.

I stayed a night with a friend from college . I had to spend a night listening to how the girls everywhere were terribly bothering him by asking him to marry them. The next day he took me for a ride along the highway. The desolated waste pieces of land are fast being grabbed by corporations. Huge rise buildings adorned by the
crests of western companies dot the skyline. But the people who work there have to move out into outskirts because the city is no longer affordable. But there are wide roads and trains to take him to his workplace.

Still the star hasn't left the eyes. The shit life is termed as 'resilience' by our beloved media.