(This post was originally written for and posted on Medium.com. It can be read here.)
We had reached the station almost an hour in advance but it wasn’t till the last announcement of the arrival of the train when I realized, with my heart sinking to the depths of Mariana Trench, that I had left my camera bag resting on the sofa at home!
We were on a three day monsoon trip to Mahabaleshwar, that favorite haunt of Mumbaikars and Punekars, taking Mumbai Express from Hyderabad to Pune and then cab to the hill station. I had charged both batteries of my Nikon D 7000 and had bought an extra memory card as well.
For a fleeting moment, I thought of abandoning the vacation and returning back to home but certainly that was not an option. For next few solitary minutes my brain did a multi-tasking juggling thoughts of self-loathing, wondering what-awesome-sights-I am-going-to-miss-capturing-on-camera, self-loathing, may-be-this-isn’t-such-a-bad-thing, self-loathing, I-will-try-iPhone-photography and yes, self-loathing.
As the train’s headlights started showing up, gradually becoming clearer, I convinced myself that this is going to be an experiment: how a compulsive clicker stayed away from a camera on a scenic hill station at its most beautiful time of the year. I will document my experiences and it will be one for the man-kind. (OK I made that last one up!)
The train had now entered the platform and as I told Shweta, her first response didn’t help at all.
“So now your mood will be off throughout the trip!”
God, woman! Don’t you understand this is what I myself am afraid of and need you to cheer me up not vocalize my worst fear. I gave a curt reply and it could have snowballed but by now we had to get aboard the train so this conversation was thankfully left back at the platform.
On the train, I tried to keep my thoughts away from this debacle and focus on other things. It was very pleasant atmosphere with rains having lashed Hyderabad earlier that day. We were traveling sleeper class after quite a while and I wasn’t missing the air-conditioning of the 3rd AC, which as we all like to remind whoever is listening, ‘is the new sleeper’ of Indian Railways.
Shweta meanwhile was in her elements, ready to throw money at every problem on which it can be thrown.
“We will buy a new camera in Pune and sell it once we are back”
One up!
“Let’s buy you a new camera and you can retire your existing one”
And somethings that made sense as well.
“Google camera rentals in Pune. There must be something.”
And perched on upper berth for next couple of hours, struggling with here-a-moment-gone-the-next data connection, I found some companies which rented out cameras (High zooms to high end DSLRs with lenses) in Pune. I managed to get phone number and talked to one of them. By the time I slept, though disappointed that my carelessness is going to set us back by few thousands, I had hope in the heart that may be the trip can still be salvaged. (All thoughts about ‘experiment’ were forgotten!)
Next morning I learned two things.
First, that Indian trains can be punctual. On the dot to be precise. Anticipating at least half an hour delay in reaching and I had booked the cab accordingly but due to this (unwelcome!) punctuality of the train we had an hour to kill at the Pune Railway Station before the cab came.
Second, it’s not easy to rent photography equipment. You had to be registered with the company, which would need address proofs (electricity or phone bill etc.), identity proofs and post-dated cheques. And couple of guarantors! Needless to say rental plans flew out and I was back in ‘experiment’ mode.
You can take a camera away from a photographer but you can’t take it away from his eyes. For next three days, for countless times, I saw things around and visualized how I would have shot them (and how good the results would be!). The landscapes, the flowers, the rain, the people on streets. Everything.
But then there were times when I felt not having a camera was a blessing as I was spending lot more time experiencing things and making mental notes and memories. As a photographer it is always good to step away from the subject and take an all-round look to ensure that you can see its multiple aspects. As a photographer it is always very difficult to do, when you have a camera in your hand with virtually no limits to the photos you can take. Not having a camera taught me this lesson.
In the end it wasn’t a complete abstinence from photography (the iPhone and Nokia Lumia 730 did quite a bit of work) but I wasn’t missing the camera so much.
But I won’t repeat the experiment. At least I won’t want to.
A few months ago I had tweeted that a potentially difficult decision was waiting for DYPC's fate. What it would be, even I didn't know at that time.
Couple of curious friends asked me about it. I didn't answer. They didn't ask again.
The answer was given last week: DYPC would be shutting down by end of November. It was greeted with same question from everyone: Why? Wife was even more surprised because only couple of months ago I had spent several nights updating a lot of code to simplify the process and make it more automated. What could have gone wrong in such short span of time? It was not a straight forward answer. It had taken me weeks to select between opting for a simpler directory model and discontinuing completely.
DYPC was not my brain child. It was Ankur's but I gave it my everything: time, passion, money (it wasn't very needy but whatever little it needed for hosting). Every few months some or other friends or volunteer would pitch in with an offer to help and some would even help for a few days. But it remained a lonely journey more or less for almost ever.
Every completed donation was a morale boosting affair. The "Thank You" mails from requesters would make all the time spent in mailing donors and requesters and even multiple followups seem worth everything. But lately the number of followups had increased and many times the conversation was getting stretched for several weeks (even months at times!) resulting in donors losing patience and ultimately donating PC to someone else. After doing everything, to be quite honest, such thanklessness on part of requesters was extremely demotivating. To be honest, this problem had become a norm rather than exception. Even after I updated code and made sending reminders easy enough process with warning of stricter actions it didn't help.
I guess it was the monotony. And probably the fact that DYPC became a pretty much thankless service. It was just existing and without any motivation (and support, if I may use that word!) it was not growing in any manner. Fatigue has started seeping in from quite some time now. Greeting e-mailers on special occasions had already stopped. Our blog was never exactly buzzing with activity but the occasional post was now limited to only occasional mention in media. Mails to the DYPC Google group (which went unresponded most of the times) too were discontinued. And nobody ever asked me why! To me it seemed that it just didn't matter to anyone. Maybe it did, maybe I was wrong. Too bad, we will never know. (Yeah, I am behaving like a child who is sulking because nobody would play with him!)
I will be blamed for not diversifying DYPC operations, not distributing the tasks, not forming a team, not continuing with an idea that was so novel that it is still not replicated. May be I will never plead guilty or may be it WAS my fault. Did I try hard enough or was I just plain unlucky? Again I don't know.
For that matter I don't even know whether to celebrate 6 year run of DYPC or mourn the loss of a venture that was so close to my heart. Even writing these words is reminding me of all those initial days when DYPC was in a nascent stage.
I will be moving on to other things but DYPC will always be something I will always love and remember fondly. I just hope atleast someone else does too!
As I was trying to recall when was last time I blogged, I realize that I don't even remember how does my blog even look! And there was a time when I blogged quite often, had more than 1 active blogs, used to follow other blogs and commented on them (in more than 140 characters), even attended a blogger meet.
And now I don't even remember what my blog looks like! How did things come to this? I am desperately trying to find the reasons (to be able to put the blame on someone, anyone!)
My last post on this blog was on 27 November 2012. The post on my 'technical' blog was on 30th May 2013. My last tweet was 2 hours ago. The same was probably posted on my Facebook. May be somebody has already 'liked' or 'commented' on it.
Do I blame Twitter or Facebook for being dormant? Yes. Why write a 300 word article keeping language and grammar in mind, wait for comment notification mail, check for the number of hits to see how many people have read it, keep on waiting for comment notification, visit some other blogs and leave comments on them in hope that they return the favor, lose all hope in humanity when they don't, finally get a comment only to find that it reads "Latin ladyboys http://shemales.xblog.in/?page.breonna labyboy pics transvestite sex tgirl freeshemale.cum transexuals movies on Dhoni demands Motera pitch to be laid in every ground of India", kill yourself.
Instead write some witty shit in 140 characters, ignoring any semblance to what may seem like a normal english language sentence, if you can't think of anything yourself or if your wit is limited to 'Kejriwal izz Pakistani Agent. @bdutt #ChorMedia Modi izz Indian patriot. #GayForModi' (ok that last hashtag won't be there, but you get the idea) nick someone else's tweet or Whatsapp message and get instant gratification of getting RTd (Pro Tip: If you want to be RTd by Subramanyam Swami or any of the gazillions of Modi-tards use the tweet given above!)
However if your luck was forged in lead like me, you will not be able to do even that and then Facebook is 'just what the doctor ordered' (this phrase is a creation of Ravi Shastri, see I don't nick things off just like that!) Here the likes and comments are mutually exchanged, as explained to me by my wife!
But then the biggest hurdle is a word that starts with 'pro' and ends with 'ation'. No, I am not talking about procreation. Yeah, I did that once and the result is a little human who has just discovered that there is a power button on laptop which can shutdown everything but somehow it is lesser fun than trying to scratch out the keys on the keyboard. And that trying to wake me up by putting fingers is in my nose is more effective than an alarm clock.
The little human proving that none of my blog posts were eaten by her.
I actually meant Procrastination. They say practice makes a man perfect. You see I have been trying to procrastinate since forever and finally I think I am there!
So if you are reading this (really, you are reading this? yet?) I thank you very much. I hope you will leave a comment or like or RT or whatever it is that Google is forcing us to do these days through Google+. I will see you in another 15 months.
It seems defeating India in India is going to be distant dream for visiting teams now. Captain M S Dhoni believes he has ironed out final crease from his winning plans! He revealed his plans in a press conference yesterday.
Blaming the curator of Wankhede Stadium for 'not understanding his instructions' Dhoni said, "My instructions were to make a pitch that offers turn from first day but was like Motera in all the other aspects. Wankhede pitch was not only turning but also had some pace and bounce which helped English spinners."
In response to questions that now that English batsmen have successfully negated Indian spinners what is his plan for next two tests, Dhoni said, "We have decided to not put our trust in the curators of other venues and will carry Motera pitch to wherever we play."
When asked how can this be possible, how can a pitch be translocated Dhoni said if trees and houses can be moved then why not a pitch. He asked BCCI to train curators to make pitches like Motera as well translocate them when needed. He said BCCI should negotiate with other boards to allow them to play on the Motera pitch when India tours abroad.
When asked about defeat in what has been named as 'revenge series', Dhoni said, "Let them (English team) come to Motera, we will give them a taste of their own medicine." Gautam Gambheer and Virendar Sehwag seconded this opinion of the captain.
Dhoni stressed on the point that Cricket is not just a game where you need to bat, bowl and field better than your opponent, you also need to make wickets which suit you better than opponent. He said sole reason for Wankhede defeat is that "we missed in the last department".
When scribes pressed on the point that both bowling and batting failed, visibly irritated Dhoni said,"Itna tension lene ki zaroorat nahin hai. Bade bade deshon mein chhoti chhoti baatein hoti rahti hain".
Like millions of Indians, I too have always liked watching KBC (Even when SRK was hosting it and even though I hated that 'Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and girls', the phrase which Indigo's Flight Crew seems to have picked up.) and tried to be on the show (all those SMSs coming to naught!)
For me the star of the show was not Amitabh Bachchan but the content (Senior Bachchan is omnipresent on the TV anyways!). It were the questions. The fun of testing one's own wits against that of the contestant. The thrill of knowing whether the answer was right or wrong. Gloating when it was right and nodding somberly ("Ahh, I was thinking of that one!") when you got it wrong. That was the fun.
In previous season, even though KBC threatened of being an extension of UPA's poverty eradication programs with virtually every episode featuring contestant who seemed to be screened after a look at their bank balance (and perhaps their 'Below Poverty Line' certificate) and being a showcase of their sob stories (I admit, some of the sob stories were touching), the show worked because the content was strong. There was no compromise on quality and quantity of questions.
But this year, the emphasis seems to be on chit-chat of the contestants with Mr. Bachchan. There is so much conversation that there is hardly enough time for questions. We know that contestants want to spend a lot of time with Mr Bachchan and talk to him, pay their (and their family and extended family members' and their locality's) tributes, express their love and admiration and talk about how they are the first person/boy/girl/woman/(any other gender) from their state/district/city/town/village/block/mohalla (thankfully we don't have any foreigners or aliens else we would have 'first person from Bhutan' or 'Neptune') to 'reach this stage', but there is only these many times when one can watch some one gushing over 'Sadi ke Mahanayak' and how they have already won a crore just by meeting him. (Curiously the contestants of 'Ghar Baithe Jeeto Jackpot' on the show give precisely this reason whether they play or don't play for the jackpot question!)
The fact that almost all the contestants seem to be competing with each others in indulging in what can only be called extreme flattery doesn't add to the watchability quotient. Add to this the sob stories which seem to have been concocted just to fill in the template of the show.
In a 90 minute episode of which perhaps 40 minutes (or what seems to be atleast 40 minutes!) are dedicated to ads. Sony is the only network whose HD channel has as long ad breaks as its SD counterpart and what's worse is that the ad breaks on HD channel show only the trailers of its own now-pretty-much-horrible shows.
Unfortunately KBC-6 has become a two-way chat show questions and answers thrown in, rather than the quiz show it was intended to be.
Day 3:
The morning was sunny and therefore warm. And while everyone wore jackets, I could have been mistaken of roaming in New Delhi on an early November morning, due to my attire. I am not new to high altitude and I know that in moutains temperatures change faster than Mamata Banerjee's tempers! It is warm when sunny and cold when cloudy. I was improperly dressed and I had to pay the price later.
The rest point was at Patalnachunia where Maggi was being served. I can swear that there have been few occasions in my life when I faced such a huge dilemma: trek down the hill to savor hot maggi or save energy and time staying on course. The latter option was taken and we continued to walk after eating some of Anupam's snacks, but after a brief hiatus a well deserved tea break was taken at nearby fiber huts. The route to Bhagwabasa seemed to inspired by our guides as the visible path was roughly one third of actual path.
On the way, we saw many villagers scavenging the hill slopes for certain herbs which are reportedly extremely precious in international markets (read China). They seemed to be hung precariously hung on the slopes but were negotating the terrain with ease and expertise! The trek route was no more steeper than some of the earlier routes we had taken, but reduction in oxygen and decreased temperatures made the ascent more difficult.
Bhagwabasa holds religious importance for the people here. Bhagwabasa means 'Lion of Goddess' and the trek route is actually a piligrimage route taken by devotees of Goddess Nanda Devi every 12 years. But the temple here is that of Lord Ganesha whose black statue has earned him a unique name 'Kalua Vinayaka'. The view from Kalua Vinayaka can not be described in words. The snow capped mountains cover entire view in front of eyes, much like IMAX screen. But then whole scenery is monochrome, colors ranging from black to white including multiple shades of gray. There is almost no vegetation and all you can see around is snow or stones. Walking to the camp site involved a little walk in snow, which was in a state between frozen and molten and hence was walkable most of the time.
By the time we reached the camp site, I had caught cold pretty firmly. I could not drink water as the cold water hurt my throat badly and not drinking water pushed me in danger of getting dehydrated and being a victim of AMS. I think it was just Diamox that I didn't catch AMS too.
The camp site had couple of fiber huts and a number of tents strewn among smaller rocks. 10 of us got to stay in one of the fiber huts. In hindsight now I know that I got the worst possible position in that hut. The door opened on me and for neighbors I had Vikrant on my right (nothing wrong with him!) and footwear on my left! More on this later.
The water supply came from melting snow which meant that in the night and early next morning, there was no water! Washing utensils was a punishment and only utensils I used were the steel tumblers meant for tea (which was the only liquid my throat was accepting!). Going to attend nature's calls took much more effort now that even small walk on that amazingly Martian terrain was tiring and secondly because the cold wind pierced the exposed parts of body (you know which parts right?) like a hundred needles!
The next day trek to Roopkund was to start at 4 am and we slept early, or did we?
The trek next day was arduous. Steep climb which seemed
never ending. But what brought me down to knees literally was not the terrain
but that amazing food item which prevents me from being a pure vegetarian: egg!
We were given couple of orange candies, a
made-in-Hyderabad-overly-sweet chocolate, a boiled potato and a boiled egg. On
the way up, while Lalit and I happily ate our potatoes and he ate the chocolate
happily as well, the egg was saved to be savored later at our 'resting spot',
Aully Bugyal. 'Bugyal' means meadow in the local language and though we were
only too delighted to see the vast expanse which pretty much resembled Windows
XP default wallpaper (from some angles), the ascent didn't end immediately.
Small flowers; blue, red and mostly yellow, formed motifs on the green carpet.
Snow capped mountains overlooked the meadow from a distance. The guides were
right; reaching the meadow revived us.
After reaching the final resting point where most of our
group was already resting, I ate the egg, took some more pictures and tried
hand at playing ballgame. Others ate some pistachios and empty shells were
retained for later use (which happened to be acting as currency in the game of
Teen Patti, another major learning I had on this trek.)
The trek continued through the meadow and was more or less
pleasant as steep ascents and descents were substituted by milder ones, we got a
new company. Of insects. Big and bold and fucking too many! After getting used
to insects sitting on our clothes, backpacks and even goggles, mules and sheep
grazing at a distance presented a pretty picture.
We were instructed by the guides to run towards forest in
case it rains, abandon our backpacks and sit crouched. I can't express in words
how comforting the fact that "sitting in this position would ensure
lightening would pass through your bodies but spare your hearts" was. My
worry about letting electricity pass through my body without any 'heart-burn'
was quickly dispelled by the fact that the forest was not so close that I could
take a shelter there if rain came without a warning. Mercifully it never rained
and my dilemma of saving myself or my rucksack, as I had a single waterproof
poncho was never put to test. The grass was green but not something you would
want to walk bare feet. And I am not talking about the ladybugs which were
here, there and pretty much everywhere!
After walking a while, my stomach gave first signs of
warning. I felt nauseated. A tablet of Digene was followed by another but they
proved as effective as PM's austerity measures are in improving fiscal deficit
condition. Vomiting sensation kept on increasing and I called Anupam to give me
some medicine. The climb had started again and with each step my condition was
worsening. I started walking extremely slowly and each step seemed to drain me
out. There was nice scenery all around but taking out the camera to shoot
anything was the last thing in my mind. I kept on drinking water and finally I vomited.
What came out was my latest solid intake. The egg.
I was able to walk again but each new bend which promised to
end the day's trek proved to be just another bend, revealing more path to be
walked on. Finally when I saw the campsite I felt relieved!
Bedni Bugyal is in sort of a valley surrounded by hills on
three sides. The grass is green and coarse and gets lots of natural manure in
form of mule, sheep and goat shit. Talking of shit, this was the first camp
site, where the loo was not confined to four walls. And though there was no ceramic
throne to sit on, the view was exquisite enough to make everyone feel like king
(or queen!). However the process got a new name here 'cathole' and a new
accessory 'kudali', a small shovel used to dig a small hole in the ground which
was to be covered with soil after use. There was a 'toilet tent' meant for
ladies but how much they used it, I can't really say. I remember Nishant got
really loud cheers from everyone when he took the shovel and started his
catwalk to cathole.
The pitch here was better suited for cricket and the
boundary was marked by stones, shrubs and a skull. The reduction in oxygen seemed
to spur the players to improve their cricketing skills. (Or was it the maggi
being sold in the local 'canteen'?) Talking of canteen, the place not only
served tea, maggi, egg curry (with potatoes), customized parathas (I saw Mohit
bhai giving detailed instructions about how to apply oil and fry it more
according to his satisfaction) but also charged cell phones using a solar
panel. That there was no mobile signal is something totally irrelevant.
Washing utensils after meals was turning out to be a
challenge as the water was freezing cold. Though it didn't get frozen itself,
exposing hands to cold water for a few minutes was sufficient to nearly freeze
them. Perhaps that was the reason the camp fire was well attended and well
appreciated. This was also our first night spent in tents and sleeping bags.
These high altitude sleeping bags were pretty comfortable if you could get
inside them and they were not smelly or their zips malfunctioning. I am told
Shankar spent a major part of his nightc appreciating the intricacies of his
sleeping bag.
This is first part of a series of posts I would be writing 'documenting' my experiences of the Roopkund trek from 9th-14th June 2012. As I said 'my experiences', so everything in these posts is from my perspective.
Day 1:
As the trek started with a descent, I wondered why the trek
guides have not given any tips about how to walk down on a slope without
hurting one's toes. I remembered the advice given by YHAI trek leaders during
Sandakphu trek that one should try to put the heel first to avoid damage to
toe.
Earlier everyone had lined for trek poles. Some knew the
importance of these aluminum frame sticks with springs, while some took them just
because everyone else was doing so. Every gram of extra luggage was left at
base camp. Every other gram of luggage was on the backs of either humans or
animals. (I was carrying my rucksack but what seemed like a real weight was my
camera bag which kept on slipping from my shoulder. Talk of 'albatross hanging
around neck'.)
The first day trek was described as difficult. Not because
it was considered difficult by the guides (for them nothing was difficult, and
that is totally another matter!) but because people had to get accustomed to
trek conditions. And accustomed they got, not only with the terrain but also
with the amazing fact that how much ever time or distance remaining, according
to our trek guides the distance was always one or two kms which could be
covered in only 10-15 minutes!
I have a problem with all sorts of 'treks'. Apart from some
really far-flung places, almost all the trek routes are used by natives for
their daily movement. And when you see local people walk these 'arduous' trek
routes with ease, all your bravado goes out of the window. So while we huffed and
puffed our way on the slopes up and down in our Quechuas, Woodlands and
Weinbreiners some or the other guy comfortably crossed us wearing nothing but
canvas shoes!
But on first day, such thoughts were the last to cross my
mind.
My rucksack being a sophisticated one, didn't have an easy
mechanism for keeping water bottles. It was made for 'hydration packs' which I
didn't have any clue about till this trek. Ignorance was a costly affair as to
drink water continuously (which was mandatory to avoid dehydration) either I
had to stop, keep down the rucksack, take out the bottle, drink water, restore
the bottle, wear the rucksack again and continue or just ask a fellow trekker
to take the bottle out, drink water and ask him to restore the bottle. I chose
the simpler option and for my entire trek Lalit was to play this role.
Didina is a tiny village, according to plains standard.
Didina is a pretty big village, according to hills standard. It was to be the
final homestay for next few days which meant beds to sleep on and a loo to
attend nature's calls. Predictably much of the talks that evening and next
morning revolved around movement, of the bowels, that is. For the first time I
heard words like 'business' and 'duty' being used to describe the 'process' and
appraisal terms like 'meets expectations' and 'below standards' to describe the
'outcome'!
However more than a 'performance' which could be rated as
'meets expectations', what gave me particular pleasure was that we took gully
cricket (read: if ball goes in that area directly, it’s out) to a whole new
height (pun intended, 8050 ft above MSL to be precise!) The minor fact that
cricket was being played on the slopes of a hill, which happened to a terrace
farm, caused no sweat on anyone's forehead (on second thoughts maybe it was due
to the nice weather). Only hiccup was that the boundary behind the wicketkeeper
happened to be a dry naala, and when ball would fall in that drain, someone
would have to go down the drain but not before cursing the bowler with some
'parliamentary' swear words. Suneel got some of the mystery from his more
famous namesake (Suneel Narine) and neither keeper nor Lalit would know why the
ball would go in that drain with amazing regularity in his over.
While a few of us roamed around the village in search of
something or someone to shoot (to apply Chaitanya's tips about how to shoot people!), the majority junta played dumb charades and
after some usual fare, Mohit and Ankur would enlighten the gathering with their
vast and deep knowledge about cinema which transcends linguistic and cultural
boundaries. And thus all the Kannadigas, Telugus, Hindis, Marathis and Paharis
would appreciate the enactments of those little gems named ‘Haseenon Ka Kabeela’ and ‘Gabbar Ki
Shadi, Basanti Ki Suhagraat’.
The meals at Didina were something to write about. Local
flavors ruled the roost as curries of a native variety of kidneybeans (rajma)
and a local fern called 'Lingoda' was savored by everyone. Vikrant later
confessed eating a little more than he would and his dietary excitement had
nothing to do with food being tasty.
I am a huge fan of Martin Scorcese. I liked 'The Aviator', loved 'The Departed' and was blown away with 'Shutter Island'. And maybe it's just a coincidence that all the three films starred Leonardo DiCaprio for who m my respect has grown ever since his role of Howard Hughes in 'The Aviator'.
But then 'Hugo' is not a typical Scorcese film.
I had heard a lot about the movie when almost all the critics said that it SHOULD win the Oscar for Best Picture but it WOULD lose to 'The Artist' (and all of them proved right!) but never cared to find out what it was about. Also at that time the focus of popular press was largely on 'The Artist' due to its unconventional style and story and to a big extent on George Clooney's 'The Descendants', Brad Pitt's 'Moneyball' and Spielberg's 'Warhorse'.
After the death of his expert watchmaker father (Jude Law) in a museum fire, young Hugo Cabret (Asa Butterfield) is taken by an uncle to live and work with him as a clock keeper on Paris Railway Station. Apart from living in the clock towers, winding the clocks and stealing food to live, Hugo has to fix a humanoid automaton, which his father found in the museum. He is caught stealing from a toy store by its owner who takes his notebook containing drawings of the automaton and its parts. Hugo pleads with the owner to return his notebook but he declines. He is helped by owner's Goddaughter Isabelle in his quest and he returns favor by introducing her to world of movies. He shows her the automaton and reveals to her the reason of his efforts to fix it. And then together they find something that reveals many secrets and changes many lives.
Now why is Hugo so desperate to get back the notebook, what is the mystery of automaton and who is the toy store owner form the crux of the story.
The film won the Academy Awards for Best Art Direction, Best Cinematography, Best Sound Editing, Best Sound Mixing and Best Visual Effects and I wonder why Howard Shore didn't win the award for best Musical Score! It is his beautiful and lilting score which brings that cozy and heartwarming feel to the story even though it is set on a buzzing railway station.
It's a period film and hence the look is obviously vintage but still contributing to atmospherics is Robert Richardson's cinematography which once again gives a soft feel to surroundings. The scenes of Hugo jumping across, sliding down or climbing up the stairs with huge gears, dials and wheels whirring about mechanically are spectacular.
Asa Butterfield as 12 year old Hugo Cabret is very believable. He doesn't try to evoke any sympathy as an orphan trying to make his ends meet while managing to stay out of the clutches of Station Inspector. Chloë Grace Moretz as Isabelle plays a copybook 'supporting character' who helps Hugo in his pursuit while risking the wrath of her Godmother Mama Jeanne (played by Helen McCrory, better known as Narcissa Malfoy in Harry Potter series. Also to be seen from Harry Potter are Uncle Dursley (Richard Griffiths) and Frances De La Tour who played Madame Maxime in Harry Potter and Goblet of Fire!)
But old Ben Kingsley takes the centerstage when it comes to acting honors. He plays a grumpy toy store owner who has a long kept secret behind him. (This is all I can say without giving out the crux of the film!)
I am sucker for movies. And this is a movie ABOUT movies which makes it even more endearing for me. As I said this is a not a typical Scorcese film but it has to be his most endearing movie, one which will bring smile to your face. Absolutely must watch.
Anupama Chopra's new book 'First Day First Show' is a collection of her works for various publications for over past two decades. I say 'works' and not 'writings' because it even includes transcripts of her weekly show 'Picture This' on NDTV 24x7.
Anupama Chopra (image courtesy AnupamaChopra.com)
Chopra is a seasoned writer. Her book "King of Bollywood:Shah Rukh Khan and the Seductive World of Indian Cinema" was published by Warner Books featured on the editor’s choice list of The New York Times’ Sunday Book Review. Her first book, "Sholay: the Making of a Classic", published by Penguin India in 2000 won the prestigious National Award (given by the President of India) for the best book on Cinema.
'First Day First Show' (or FDFS) is chronologically arranged and divided in two parts: 1993-1999 and 2000-2010. While the latter has got more variety in terms of content and publications its the former section that makes the book an endearing look in the celluloid world.
Almost all the articles in first segment were written for and originally published in India Today magazine in the said years which also happen to be my growing-up years and hence the memories they rekindle are precious! Till 2001 when I left home for college, we had a subscription of India Today at home and in absence of satellite TV (though Zee TV was launched in 1992 and DD Metro in late 2003, we didn't have cable connection at home) Chopra's columns about cinema became my only source of information about entertainment industry. So when a book talks about 'Chitralok' and 'Superhit Muqabla' it reminds of the simple joys that were then.
Till 1995, when Outlook magazine was launched, India Today was the only English news weekly on stands and whereas vernacular magazines indulged in only yellow journalism (The who-is-seeing-whom sort) when it came to Bollywood, it was India Today which covered cinema in a much more professional manner, and Chopra was at the forefront of this change.
So you will find article-cum-reviews of movies like 'Aankhein', 'Khalnayak', 'Is Raat Ki Subah Nahin' or 'Kabhi Haan Kabhi Naa' and profiles of stars like Shahrukh Khan (after 'Darr'), Govinda (who was at the pinnacle of success after his 'No. 1' films) or Amitabh Bachchan (after his return vehicle 'Mrityudaata' bombed).
But the finesse of Chopra as a film journalist shines through her reports on topics like changing economics and scale of the films, the trends being set and followed, the fear psyhosis among filmdom after murder of Gulshan Kumar, the poor selection of films in IFFI or even increasing usage of mobile phones among the urban elite!
One of the joys of reading these reports is the benefit of retrospection! You read about 'Koyla' boasting a different story line ('mute boy falling in love with a rich girl') and realize how it was all more of the same. You read about 'Kartoos', a big budget entertainer featuring Sanjay Dutt and Jackie Shroff and remember what a colossal flop it was.
The latter half (2000-2010) consists of similar mix of reports, star profiles and (mostly) reviews (few from 'India Today', mostly from 'Picture This'). Towards end of the decade Chopra went global and most of her reports are for New York Times, Vogue and Los Angeles Times. The style of writing and subjects are more international and focus is less on Bollywood. One of the reports,written for the New York Times, covers the mass hysteia caused by Amitabh Bachchan's ill health, which made country skip more than just a beat, from a very detached perspective. Yet another report is about movie industry of Bhutan!
The writing is undoubtedly higher class but the effect that first part has, is just not there.
Not her fault because then this decade was so different from the previous! Satellite TV had invaded our homes and as if 24-hr movie/music/news channels were not enough 24-hr celebrity/lifestyle channels were pushing more and more Bollywood in our homes. The thin veil of inaccessibility that was between our stars and us was gone and that's why none of the profiles give that insight in any personality, hardly any reports give any new information that was unknown. And Chopra herself talks passionately about this and many more dangers of impending Paparazzi-culture in 'Intimate Strangers' written for Vogue.
If this is not enough to persuade you to pick the book, extracts from Chopra's books about Sholay, 'Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jaaenge' and Shahrukh Khan are part of the book in form of Prologue, Interlude and Epilogue respectively!
All in all, it's a nice book if you want to go on a journey down the memory lane with the rockstar of Indian film journalism!
So yesterday Harbhajan Singh (I will call him Harbhajan, not Bhajji because a) I can't imagine him as a fried snack and b) I don't feel the need to be so personal as to call him with his pet name.) made his appearance on Master Chef.
Totally commendable move, considering he has started early looking for alternative options rather than trying his hand doing 'Annarth' films and then in news channel shows like Vinod Kambli.
But whatever Cricinfo says I still think there is a lot left for Harbhajan to do. In the Indian cricket team that is.
1) He can be taken to Australia just to rile Aussies. Even though there is no Symonds there are still eleven men in Baggy Greens to be called names which sound like some Indian abuses. (Since I am no expert on abuses I suggest you consult some Ghaziabadi for some examples.)
2) Who said he can't bowl? He can. OK he can't spin the ball. But he can bowl a full over without being called for No Ball. That gives captain Dhoni a bowler who can be used to change the bowling ends of his usual wicket-taking bowlers! Doesn't that give a totally new meaning to word 'utility player'?
3) He has got a century right? Play him as a batsman. We did that in England, didn't we? So what's wrong with Australia? Why should we snatch this divine pleasure from our beaten-black-and-blue-for-being-black-and-wearing-blue Indian brethren (and sisteren?) living in Oz land?
4) Play him as captain. Didn't he lead Mumbai Indians to win in Champions League? May be that will improve his bowling too. See what it did to Darren Sammy. In Delhi test he was leading wicket taker in both innings. And didn't Mike Brearly play for England just because he was captain?
5) Remember that saying: Spare the rod and spoil the child. Harbhajan can be kept in team to ensure that these new guys like Ashwin or Ojha and older guys like Srisanth are kept firmly in check. Afterall Harbhajan can land a hand on other people's cheeks. Ask Sri.
These are just five but I am sure you know a few more reasons for Harbhajan to appear on cricket field. I just hope he himself knows a few!
There was a 'Bhoomi Poojan' ceremony of a new upcoming township with 'modern amenities like club house, restaurant, gym' and 'just 15 minutes from proposed Metro station'.
Well I won't blame you if you didn't know about Metro rail being proposed in Lucknow. Like every middle class Indian once aspired to own a Maruti 800, every state capital aspires to have a Metro of its own and believes it has really good reasons to have one. Lucknow is one of them. Kochi, Jaipur, Hyderabad, Kanpur are few others.
I don't know the reasons they are pushing to pass Lucknow Metro as an inevitable mean to solve Lucknow's traffic problems but whatever and however flimsy they are, I know they are not going to be challenged. Even though more than half of the city's road remain encroached, causing massive traffic snarls and traffic police appears only at few VIP junctions and no alternatives are suggested to this massively expensive option, Lucknowites are made to believe that Metro is their only savior.
Unlike Delhi or Bangalore or Hyderabad where there have been debates over viability and necessity of Metro and how the construction will affect the city's heritage and existing transportation mechanisms and commuting patterns, there is going to be no voice asking questioning anything that is going to be fed to press (that is under the thumb of the Government anyway!).
I don't blame the people. Any announcement that is 'perceived' to be related to 'development' is lapped up by people who are hungry to see any kind of development. So much that even if it means massive amount of money that is going to be swindled (and which is perhaps the only reason for some of these projects!) or cause damage to environment is accepted without any murmur. Any protest, if ever, takes place only if the development is hurting their own interests in any manner.
Secondly, Delhi is the ultimate role model for Lucknow and any thing that Delhi has, seems to be a must-have for Lucknowites! Even if Lucknow is just a fraction of Delhi in terms of population and area, they must have a Metro.
Also the fact that there is hardly any interface which promotes dialogue and partnership among people and Government over the issues that concern the city, is a major reason that no discussion or debate ever takes place.
So whenever Lucknow Metro materializes and at whatever costs, both tangible and intangible in terms of cost to heritage and environment, no one will mind it.
Mine was a pretty standard fare: got a few forwarded SMSs with flowery messages about friends and friendships, saw some tweets and FB statuses with 'Happy Friendship Day' (some even tried now-so-yawnworthy 'Fraandship' too) and that was it. Hope you did hang out with your friends and I don't mean the group web chat on Google+.
I have become 'wiser' (read 'cynical') with wishing people: Every new year I write 'Happy New Year' to x number of people and then get reply from x/6 number of people. So this time I decided to just reply to people who cared to send me those flowery 'Friendship Day' messages with a not-so-flowery 'Happy Friendship Day to you :)'.
I didn't feel guilty about my cynicism. I justified that by thinking of being brutally honest about my friendships. May be it is the scars I got from the people I called 'friends'. May be I should have moved on by now, may be I have. May be I need to do more about it. May be I have become choosy about the people I want to be friends with. I don't think I have understood and accepted the Facebook culture of friendship. May be I am still old-fashioned and my thoughts/values about friendship are stuck to same old ones. May be I am a jerk!
I know this post presents me as a full on psycho but I really don't care. At the end of the day I am just glad to have talked to some of the friends I value. But for such friends who needs a special 'friendship day'!
After watching first episode Imagine TV's new reality show 'Gazab Desh Ki Ajab Kahaniyan' (which seemed a rehashed version of its own earlier show 'Rakhee Ka Insaaf' which was infact an Indianised version of 'Judge Amy' on CBS-TV) I felt a tinge of sadness.
Now I understand that after watching a show starring Rakhee
Sawant (who must be now majority share holder or senior office bearer in Imagine TV, if regularity or importance of her shows are any indicators) you can feel anything but sadness. But I felt sad for
the channel. It's like seeing your favorite and once bright student in class getting ruined.
Imagine TV was once my favorite. When launched as NDTV Imagine with much fanfare and Karan Johar as an associate (which meant Karan used to host a show) the channel's line up was so different from its contemporaries and competitors that it was a study in contrast from other newly launched 9X. While 9X had same kind of saas-bahu serials that were running on other leading GECs Star Plus, Zee and Sony, Imagine had a refreshing mix of programs.
The soaps (few of which were women-oriented) had a completely different and fresh feel to them courtesy, a mature treatment and urban setting which ensured that the channel didn't look like yet another GEC clone. And then there were reality shows most notable of which was Farhan
Akhtar's 'Oye It's Friday'. High on production values and higher on entertainment quotient OIF was the crown prince of Imagine's lineu
p. But the show which brought maximum TRP to the channel was a new version of 'Ramayan'! Produced by Sagar Entertainment which kept the style of the show EXACTLY similar to the original series, success of 'Ramayan' surprised everyone. It showed that the channel management was ready to balance between new and old ideas and have a healthy mix of both.
But it seemed the soaps were ahead of their times because it was still the age of 'Kahaani Ghar Ghar Ki' and 'Kyunki..'. Sony had not reformed itself and though clearly ahead of 9X and Real (which hardly was a blip on the GEC radar) Imagine's successes were limited. And with big bang-big budget arrival of Colors even the leader was threatened.
Imagine's shows too began to follow the 'market trend'. If rural setting was in fashion, then we had a village. If social issues were the trend, we had a bunch of those. If middle class was in vogue, then we had a middle class belle. "If you can't beat them, join them" was the mantra. While surfing apart from channel logo, there was nothing in Imagine's programming which would differentiate it from any other GEC.
And then somewhere down the line 'Rakhee Ka Swayamvar' happened! This was both good and bad for the channel. Good because it gave tremendous TRP. Headlines Today (a laggard in English News Channels) topped the tables that week just because they gave the finale of the show massive coverage!!
Bad because it started a trend of bad reality shows on the channel. 'Raaz Pichhle Janam Ka' was another annual atrocity and then last year we had a lame 'Zor Ka Jhatka' (Indianised version of 'Total Wipeout') which even SRK couldn't salvage.
Imagine CEO Sameer Nair had said in an interview once that they want to settle as a competitive 4th or easy 5th (meaning just after Star,Zee, Colors and Sony and well ahead of others) but latest reports say that even Star One and SAB TV beat his channel comprehensively.
And I guess now their hopes are pinned on loudmouth Rakhee who is back on Imagine in a show ('Gazab Desh..) whose PR was focussing around her demands for a particular type of underwear! How low can you stoop...Imagine!
’Bheja Fry’ was a shameless ripoff of French film ’Le Dinner de Cons’ and in the ’finest’ trends of Bollywood no credits were given to the original. The film went onto do well and as it usually happens director got infected with ’Blockbusteritis’, an infectious disease that makes directors think that since they are so good that they could make a small budget, no-star movie a hit their next movie will have bigger budget, fancier (and larger) star cast, an overseas shooting location and a surefire superhit tag automatically. The only thing to take a back seat is the writing as it happens!
What director Sagar Ballary forgot is that the simplicity of the narrative was what made his protagonist endearing and the humor crackling. The confrontation between him and Mr Smarty pants was the crux of the movie. No more!
But since ’Bheja Fry 2’ was supposed to be a bigger budget movie, we have boatloads of characters, needless subplots to give all these people something to do, a cruise and an island for the setting and a few item numbers (mercilessly not included in the movie or else I would have killed myself!) which as you would have guessed by now, leaves very less time for the aforementioned ’crux’, the confrontation.
The point that this movie could have been better if the director would have been true to the original premise is proven by the fact that the only laughable parts in the entire movie are between KK and his onscreen nemesis Vinay Pathak who are both marooned on an island. The remaining film (and that is a very large part) is spent in establishing the characters and trying veryy hard to make you laugh. This includes Bharat Bhushan (Pathak) and his Malyali colleague Shekharan (Suresh Menon) exchanging innovative expletives to denounce each other’s region!
Vinay Pathak should take a long break because it is getting difficult to separate one of his performance from others. He seemed to continue right from where he left in ’Chalo Dilli’. A simple, talkative, common man having a penchant for singing and annoying habits but with a heart of gold! Similarly KK should do a few roles where he is not doing some evil including being a lecherous man salivating for the heroine. Minisha Lamba who plays Miss Goody Two Shoes is decent but such roles don’t add anything to her kitty. Amol Gupte who plays an eccentric photographer takes the cake in hamming and his character was too much for me to suffer.
At the end of ’Bheja Fry 2’ Bhushan forgives the man who tried to bump him off, I wish I had such a generous attitude towards the makers of this movie!
(This post is my review of a dance-cum-painting show 'Rang Rasiya' presented by 'Echo..!! India' at LaMakaan, Hyderabad on Sunday 11th June.)
The concept sounded awesome on paper (or rather on my phone screen) which said 'Dance meets painting'. The build up was promising, 'Ghanan Ghanan extended' from 'Lagaan' reinforcing what I had in mind about the show.
The concept was novel. 4 painters doing their paintings while dancers perform on stage. It was in support of an NGO named 'Alambana'. That's very good. The anchor talked about colors and associated emotions and it started in a dignified manner with a 2 minute silence for M.F Husain (It was hardly 30 seconds!)
The first performance was a sufi dance performance on Jodha Akbar's 'Khwaja mere khwaja'. Associated color: white. Fine.
What happened next and continued till last performance was pure disappointment. The dance performances which you see on the myriad TV dance reality shows. One of these 'contemporary' dances even had some acrobatics included! One after the other umpteen Bollywood numbers followed and the dancers flaunted their art with anchor talking randomly about colors which were conspicuous only by their absence. The performance with 'romance' theme (associated color: pink) had dancers in black,white and grey dresses while purple themed performance had the dancer in Gold and Black dress! The songs ended abruptly and a few times the music stopped during the performances. There was not a semblance of any attempt at trying to establish a coherence between colors and performances.
There were lot of loud cheers and applause but almost all the cheers came from the presenter group members. I spent more time in trying to check out the paintings than watching the dances!
The performances were fine but the entire concept of having Bollywood dance numbers accompanying the painters was disgusting. It would have been so much more if the dance and music was soulful, more Indian and aimed at arousing emotions rather than claps! I can't say much about paintings though because I am not an art expert, however atleast one of the paintings remained incomplete, while another seemed overdone. The same seemed to be the case of the show. While the thought process that went on conceptualization seemed half baked, the presentation ceremony went on and on, with a producer's speech that would have made one feel of witnessing a Broadway production!
The last performances ended with dancers splashing dry colors (much to amusement of first benchers) on stage and on each other. The colors finally brought to life a drab show devoid of colors. It ended well, but it definitely wasn't at all well.
(In the pic: painter Sri Murugan doing his painting based on one of the performances)
The first thing that impressed me in 'Shor In The City' was the immaculate American accent of Abhay (played by Sendhil Ramamurthy). Ofcourse Sendhil being an American actor helps but the point is that his accent brought to life the NRI character he was playing. Compare that to the American NRI that Abhishek Bachchan played in 'Delhi 6'! Abhishek's accent was limited to rolling his 'R's and that too for about first 5 minutes.
Another standout example from the same film is that of 'Sawan Murthy', a young cricketer who belongs to AP but is in Mumbai from past several years. He speaks fluent Hindi but still has got that tinge of unmistakable Telugu accent.
Talking of contrast. In Ashutosh Gowariker's 'Swades' the poor farmer who (whose home Mohan visits) speaks not only extremely pure but even poetic Hindi, strikes extremely jarring note in otherwise spotless movie. Even his most perfect film to-date 'Lagaan' was sort of inaccurate on this front with characters in 'central India' speaking Awadhi dialogues but it went on fine with the setting of the story and nobody complained. Similarly in RGV's 'Jungle' even though the forest was based somewhere in South India, the bandits spoke in Haryanvi(!) but it was passable.
The importance of correct language and accent can not be overstated but due to some unfathomable reason our mainstream movie makers prefer to take us, the viewers, in a world where people speak chaste Hindi and are completely unaffected by their surroundings and the people living in those surroundings. Wherever they may be.
So in 'Patiala House' even though Bau Ji's whole family has lived and grown up in Britain, they still speak that Punjabi mixed Hindi which Karan Johar made trendy in his NRI films. And in Priyadarshan's shameful remake (if they gave due credits)/ripoff(if they didn't!) of 'Children Of Heaven', 'Bumm Bumm Bole' the setting was definitely a place where they don't speak that good Hindi. (But to be fair in Priyadarshan's asylum of movie making language is perhaps last thing to worry about!)
Can you imagine how depleted would 'Peepli Live' be if Nattha and his village folks, specially Amma ji, didn't talk in that characteristic western U.P. accent, or if the Deccan accent is taken out of the dialogues from 'Well Done Abba'? Or the Himachali taken out of 'The Blue Umbrella'?
Perhaps in mainstream Bollywood, such things as correct pronunciation and proper dialect are somethings not to be fussed about much. Perhaps they still think that public to hero ko 'dekhne' aati hai!
The HITEC City area in Hyderabad once used to be the sole hub of IT industry in the city with the presence of best knows corporates in one of the various IT parks in this area. While many other areas like Gachibowli have gained prominence in the recent years with biggies setting up their own campuses in the area, HITEC City still rules in the minds of people.
However on one hand we have the swanky looking glass and aluminium buildings which make the area look really hitech and on the
other hand is the complete Govt. apathy which has ensured the roads of this area are worse than many slum areas!
And if the roads are good enough to rattle your bones the speedbreakers are good enough to break down your vehicles.
There are several foreign honchos who visit companies everyday. On one hand they witness the efficiency of the private companies and on the other they witness the pathetic state of infrastructure outside. Hope the authorities will wake up and see that they spend some of the money they generate from HITEC City on its welfare too!
What director Sagar Ballary forgot is that the simplic
