Much has been said, written and heard about this movie. No movie has caught the public’s imagination the way this one has. There have been comparisons galore. “His is bigger than his” type analogies are all over the electronic space around us. Love him, hate him or ignore him. But the juggernaut that is SRK rolls on.
I will be honest. I went to the theatre wanting to hate the movie. Ra.One – clever play on words – the name is in line with the current trend of naming movies after their villains. And a very menacing villain, indeed! But truth be told, I ended up liking the movie. By default, I do not like any SRK movie. By default, I want every SRK movie to crash and burn.
Yes, the movie is a mish-mash of almost everything good that Hollywood has thrown at us. Spiderman meets Terminator 2 / 3 meets Spy Kids meets blah blah. Who cares? ‘Cause it works. It works like nothing else has worked before. I do not understand the holier than thou attitude that we Indians revel in. Originality is overrated. There is one of only four or five stories in every movie. Even the fantastic Star Wars series is basically a father-son saga narrated in the backdrop of intergalactic war.
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Friday, November 04, 2011
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
When Ghazal dies
Aankhon se aasuon ke marasim puraane hain
Mehmaan yeh ghar mein aaye to chubhta nahi dhuaan
Mehmaan yeh ghar mein aaye to chubhta nahi dhuaan
Jagjit Singh. Naam hi kaafi hai. For 45 years his ghazals enthralled us. He had a unique gift – he made you feel as if he was singing only for you. And that voice! It enraptured us, kept us glued to him. To most of us, Ghazal is Jagjit Singh.
I consider myself blessed. My father has a decent collection of Jagjit and Chitra Singh’s live performances. I was introduced to music heaven as early as 4 or 5. The first Jagjit Singh ghazal I ever listened to was a recording of ‘Kal Chaudhvi Ki Raat Thi’ performed at South Hall. Smashing start, wouldn’t you say? It is perhaps his finest work. Ever. I did not know it then but I was sold. Completely sold on the man.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Where are all the men?
Yes, there are billions out there with an appendage dangling between their legs. But the rate at which the Orlando Blooms and Robert Pattinsons are crawling out of the woodworks that very appendage will soon evolve into a vestigial organ. Something like the appendix which serves no useful purpose, yet retains the ability to put you through severe agony when it feels like it. Not that the penis does not put us through the misery of masking those untimely at-office hard-ons.
Born in the 80s, to me a man using a deodorant was as familiar a sight as a woman admitting to passing gas. While I do appreciate the good sense of using deodorants that the 90s brought, in the 00s men went completely berserk. To an extent, I can probably let slide the use of moisturisers and nail filers. But waxing? Seriously? Waxing?
I distinctly remember Akshay Kumar in a bedroom romp with Shilpa Shetty in the movie ‘Main Khiladi Tu Anadi’. He had enough hair on his chest to give a bear a run for his money. He was a man, a man’s man, the way all men had evolved over millions of years. Then he got married, probably had his masculinity taken away from him, and re-appeared topless devoid of all chest hair. There are countless scenes of Anil Kapoor in the shower in his earlier movies. He has stopped taking his shirt off. Whether it is his response to the neutering of the manly hero or due to his extreme shame at having gone the waxing way himself we will never know.
Most women would find all this talk of chest hair revolting, disturbing, may be even scandalous. That, however, would be missing the point. Chest hair, or references to it, is not nearly as disturbing as the fact that metro-sexuality seems to have become the accepted way of life. In their quest to become our equals, women have succeeded in converting men to women.
It does not end here. Married men are expected to not beer-burp or fart when their wives are around. In the unfathomable event that the unthinkable happens, lavish gifts have to be bestowed as an apology for letting their natural bodily functions occur. I see this evolving further. One day women like Renuka Chowdhury will have their way. Beer will be outlawed and all men will be required by law to have a butt-plug up their arse.
But we won’t have any men left by then. There will be women, and there will be those without a vagina. I am sure those without a vagina will have evolved mammary glands in human race’s eternal quest for gender equality.
Born in the 80s, to me a man using a deodorant was as familiar a sight as a woman admitting to passing gas. While I do appreciate the good sense of using deodorants that the 90s brought, in the 00s men went completely berserk. To an extent, I can probably let slide the use of moisturisers and nail filers. But waxing? Seriously? Waxing?
I distinctly remember Akshay Kumar in a bedroom romp with Shilpa Shetty in the movie ‘Main Khiladi Tu Anadi’. He had enough hair on his chest to give a bear a run for his money. He was a man, a man’s man, the way all men had evolved over millions of years. Then he got married, probably had his masculinity taken away from him, and re-appeared topless devoid of all chest hair. There are countless scenes of Anil Kapoor in the shower in his earlier movies. He has stopped taking his shirt off. Whether it is his response to the neutering of the manly hero or due to his extreme shame at having gone the waxing way himself we will never know.
Most women would find all this talk of chest hair revolting, disturbing, may be even scandalous. That, however, would be missing the point. Chest hair, or references to it, is not nearly as disturbing as the fact that metro-sexuality seems to have become the accepted way of life. In their quest to become our equals, women have succeeded in converting men to women.
It does not end here. Married men are expected to not beer-burp or fart when their wives are around. In the unfathomable event that the unthinkable happens, lavish gifts have to be bestowed as an apology for letting their natural bodily functions occur. I see this evolving further. One day women like Renuka Chowdhury will have their way. Beer will be outlawed and all men will be required by law to have a butt-plug up their arse.
But we won’t have any men left by then. There will be women, and there will be those without a vagina. I am sure those without a vagina will have evolved mammary glands in human race’s eternal quest for gender equality.
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