ayodhya and cwg: what next

The past week saw two events, which were met with widespread accolades in the media and the establishment in general, but which are likely to have far-reaching repercussions. The first was the Ayodhya verdict. The endless self-congratulatory pats on the back accorded by the politicos and the media are harping on the victory of the country’s ‘secular credentials’. But even the staunchest pro-majority fundamentalist will have to accede that the verdict has a strong bias towards the Hindus. There may not be any immediate fall-outs of the verdict, but have we tried to examine the reasons behind it and its long-term implications?

The Indian Muslim has over the years become less inclined to direct confrontations, not because of any mellowing of the fundamentalism. Fundamentalism has, on the contrary, risen over the years. But lately, the tendency is to play the wronged martyr, rather than the aggressor. The reason for this is the corresponding shift is the Hindu majority’s changing outlook towards intolerance and aggressive self-assertion and the Islamist fundamentalists’ realization that a direct confrontation is likely to have a much more negative impact on the Muslims rather than the Hindus. There has been a significant shift in the stands of the judiciary and the establishment as well. While earlier there was a tendency to appease the Muslims, the appeasement has now tilted towards the Hindus, largely because the Hindu fundamentalist has become more prone to immediate violent reactions. This does not imply that the Muslims have become more tolerant. In fact the ‘wronged’ consciousness is what has resulted in the spate of terrorist attacks. Islamic fundamentals now hit back at the presumed atrocities in a much more damaging manner. Most terrorist attacks have cited the Gujarat riots or the Masjid demolitions as their justifications for the attacks. This verdict provides the self-appointed protectors of the Indian Muslim with another excuse for playing upon his emotions and insecurities. So, even though there has not been any immediate ramification, the long-term prospects are ominous.

The second event which has drawn even more self-aggrandizement is the apparent success of the CWG opening ceremony. Whether or not the event matched international standards is a matter of one’s own perception. However, the sudden shift in the media’s standpoint from rubbishing everything about the games to hailing the event is also likely to have negative upshots over the years. The fact that the country is willing to overlook the extravagant and profligate expenditure, which could have been put to far better uses will give the establishment another opportunity to vie for future events of this magnitude. Which means, more corruption, more mismanagement, and most importantly, more wasteful expenditure. And can we afford such extravagance when more than half of the country is struggling to garner two square meals a day? Significantly, the fallout of both these events has been dictated by the media, which has become a proxy establishment by itself. The media claims that India has become more mature, going by the response to the Ayodhya verdict, and playing to the gallery, it professes that the CWG has enhanced the country’s international stature. But examine it closely, and it becomes evident that such claims are just eyewash and the ground reality cannot be any farther from these assertions.

So, while we may be rejoicing now, we would have much more reasons to regret these incidents in the years to come.

match fixing: is it for real?

Yet another allegation of match fixing. And at stake is arguably the most potent new ball pair in the world. While there is no doubt about the fact that this issue raises serious questions about the integrity of the cricketers, I feel they ought to be given another chance. What’s the big deal about bowling a few no-balls in a match in which the result was a foregone conclusion? It’s not as if bowling these no balls contributed to Pakistan’s loss. And the baseless allegations about Pakistan having tanked the Sydney test and other such matches reek of sensationalism. Pakistan was beaten fair and square at Sydney and I still believe no cricketer could ever take money for throwing a match. Particularly so in the sub-continent, where the cricketers would very well know how much a victory or defeat means to the viewers. And why would they risk their careers for a little money, when they know that doing well would open up enormous avenues for money-making for them? None of the fixing allegations, except the admission from Hansie Cronje, have been proven till date. They have destroyed promising cricketing careers, though. Rashid Latif, for instance, was one of the best wicket-keepers of our time before he was banned without any substantial proof. Yes, it is very much a possibility that cricketers would be taking money for bowling the odd no ball, but with the nature of the game, it doesn’t actually seem possible for any cricketer to tank a match when he is only one member of the playing eleven. And allegations about dropping catches also seem absurd. The fielders usually get a split second to react when the ball comes their way. Is it possible for them to botch it up intentionally, while making it seem a genuine attempt, within a matter of seconds? From the cricketers’ perspective, this would be just a harmless way of making some extra money, which, though a despicable move, still doesn’t warrant a crucifixion. For that matter, even Randiv bowled a deliberate no-ball.

another movie review: shutter island

For those who swear by Martin Scorsese and have had the chance to watch some of his defining works like Raging Bull or Taxi Driver, Shutter Island will be a huge let-down. However, if you don’t have the baggage of expectations and are going to watch it like any other movie, it might just be interesting enough. Probably the weakest of all Scorcese movies till date, Shutter Island fails on multiple counts. The oft-repeated premise of mentally unsound characters offers the film-maker the liberty to introduce outrageous and absurd twists to the narrative. The whole movie builds up towards that final ‘revelation’ and the more implausible it is, the better (an instance of this was the recent ‘Karthik calling Karthik). Such films rely more on ‘shock-value’ than anything else. Shutter Island also falls into the same category, except that it is more adeptly handled and has some superior production values. Leonardo Di Caprio plays the familiar role of the shrewd and calculating cop yet again and is adequate. However, like most of his other roles, he does not add any extra dimensions to the character he plays, and it doesn’t stay with you beyond the two hours of watching him act. Ben Kingsley is wasted in an ill-defined role, which is probably because the script intends it to be so. There is nothing remarkable about any of the other performances, the actors just come and go, again, serving as bits and pieces of a mysterious puzzle. There are many other flaws in the script but revealing them here would take away the surprise element, hence I’ll desist from doing so. Despite all these drawbacks, the film does keep you hooked, the pace doesn’t slacken and you will be curious to know ‘what’s going on’. The cinematography is excellent and the ambience does give a sense of foreboding throughout the movie. And while the concept may be outlandish, it is definitely fresh. To conclude, Shutter Island can be viewed once, but it isn’t the sort of movie you’d remember one year down the line. For Scorcese fans, don’t watch it expecting a Taxi Driver, ‘Raging Bull’ or ‘After Hours’ or even a ‘Gangs of New York’, and you may not be so disappointed.

movie review: Rajneeti

Often, movies which boast of ensemble casts and are preceded by tremendous hype fail to live up to the expectations of the audience. The expectations become magnified, and even an average effort turns out to be a box office dud, simply because the viewer comes expecting the moon and ends up getting a street-light, or sometimes, being left in the dark.


Rajneeti, however, does not disappoint. Yes, maybe it will be slightly disappointing for some who expected a landmark movie, what with arguably one of the most explosive assembly of great actors. But as I said earlier, it may not be the moon, but its one powerful halogen lamp nevertheless. Tapping into one of the best stories ever told, the Mahabharat, the film is backed by a powerful and taut script. The complexity of the characters is suitably maintained; with each of the protagonists showing their dark sides. The most powerful role is reserved for Arjun (Ranbir kapoor) which speaks volumes of his star power. However, while he is more than competent in the role, you get the feeling that perhaps the underplaying had to be toned up a bit. The absolute lack of emotions the character is supposed to have is a bit far-fetched. All the more so when his entry into the big bad world of politics has been dictated by the desire for vengeance. There is ample similarity between Michael Corleone of Godfather 2 and Arjun. But even though Michael was also shown as being reticent and unmoved, Al Pacino made him much more human and sensitive than Ranbir Kapoor. Maybe it’s unfair to compare Ranbir Kapoor with someone like Al Pacino, but he has shown enough evidence of his acting skills in some of his previous movies. So, the restraint could have been loosened up a bit, to give him more opportunities to display his acting skills.

As for the rest of the cast, there are three actors who contribute significantly; Manoj Bajpai, Ajay Devgan, and Arjun rampal. Nana Patekar doesn’t have a lot to do while Naseeruddin Shah seems to have turned up in a blink-and-a-miss role for reasons best known to him and the director. A lot has been said about Katrina Kaif in the media,which isn’t entirely unjustified. This is easily her only good performance, apart from Namaste London. However, that is as far it goes, a particularly bad actress coming up with a competent performance.
Ajay Devgun has that familiar tortured look throughout the movie, which has become his forte. He doesn’t disappoint, but you are too used to seeing him in the role of the wronged and upright individual. Arjun Rampal, again, like Katrina Kaif is not much of an actor. So, you’d be pleasantly surprised by his performance, hugely aided by a role which most actors would die for.


Finally, the best thing about the movie, Manoj Bajpai. It’s sad that an actor of his caliber is languishing in the sidelines after his outstanding performances in Satya, Shool, Dil Pe Mat Le Yaar, and many more. Coming to the fore after a long hiatus, his is the character which stays with you for long after you’ve seen the movie. Agreed, he is over the top and melodramatic at times, but his role requires him to be so. A marvelous performance, even by his high standards, which makes it one of the high points of the movie.

For those who have been following Prakash Jha’s movies in the past, like Damul, Mrityudand, Gangajal, Apharan etc., the most noticeable aspect of the movie is the absence of a socially relevant theme and message. Unlike his earlier movies, which tackled burning social issues, Rajneeti is plain and simple story-telling. Though it’s a great example of entertaining and engaging cinema, it doesn’t stir up emotions, like the frustration and anger aroused by the helplessness and victimization of Ajay Shastri in Apharan, the despair on witnessing the realistic and tragic practice of bonded labor in Damul, nor does it give you an adrenaline rush felt with the social upheaval engendered by SP Amit Kumar of Gangajal or the rebellion of women against atrocities from Mrityudand. It does tackle the issue of the power hungry politics, but it does so dispassionately, and doesn’t offer any new perspectives. It’s more a tale of a family torn by internal strife than a depiction of the political quagmire in our country. All said and done, Rajneeti is definitely worth a watch, and probably, one of the best Hindi movies of this year.

By the way, an added incentive is the manner in which the beautiful city of Bhopal is shown throughout the movie.

Strikes and protest: changing perceptions

Trade unionism and organized protests in recent times have become a pariah, an object of disparagement. In the media and middle-class consciousness, it’s begun to symbolize an impediment to progress. The roots to these perceptions lie in the disenchantment with the public sector industry, which is now deemed to be an inefficient burden on the country’s exchequer. The strikes in the textile mills of Mumbai, the fall from grace of the state of West Bengal from the map of industrialization and development, the corruption and inefficiencies of government undertakings are all somehow attributed to trade unionism. And this isn’t necessarily untrue. The PSU and government employees who could ostensibly get away with anything and the bureaucracy who plague our government machinery have survived without much effort largely because of the unions. We have iron ore mines running for decades when the entire resources have been depleted, just so that the employees’ salaries can be paid, we have sick units dragging on without any hope of a turnaround just because the unions won’t allow their closure; and we have the all-too-familiar blackmails by providers of essential services to have their just or unjust demands met. Lately, there have been voices which have called for ruthless handling of any voice of dissent. Aided by the media which panders to the views of a minority which unfailingly opposes any hindrance to their comfortable lives, the opponents of public protests are having a field day. In the absence of any support, unions and protestors have to face the brunt of opposition from all quarters.


These tendencies are now leading to a situation wherein even the legitimate demands of protestors are quashed without any opposition. A recent instance was the way in which the strike called by the employee unions of Air India was dealt with. Not many are aware of what prompted the strike in the first place. An extremely biased and melodramatic reporting focused only on the trouble faced by the commuters, and the contention that a strike just after a major disaster involving the national was unjustified. The fall-out was the termination of striking employees and derecognition of Air India employee unions. The rhetoric of the management and the aviation ministry was facilitated by a sympathetic media and its consumers who were not willing to compromise on their convenience at any cost. Nobody really cared about the standpoint of the striking employees, there was unbridled rejoicing when the strike was forcibly brought down, considered to be a vindication of the media and airline consumers’ opinions.

What actually happened, what prompted the Air India employees to go on a strike a day after one of the biggest tragedies visited in the history of Indian passenger aviation? While trouble had been brewing for long regarding non-payment of salaries, which in itself is more than a good reason for calling off work, the flash-point was a gag order implemented by Air India management, restraining its employees from making any unauthorized statements regarding the carrier. It went on to suspend an employee who had raised a question about the certification process of an aircraft’s flight-worthiness. Apparently, the ill-fated Mangalore aircraft was cleared for flight by a team of engineers from Kingfisher Airlines. The suspended employee had questioned the credentials and qualification of the team and the very practice of a private body performing such a sensitive task. Even though the crash did not occur because of any aircraft snag, the point raised was quite valid. As regards non-payment of salaries, it would be insane to expect someone to carry on working without getting the wages on time.

In spite of all these valid arguments, the employees’ strike was met with impatience and high-handedness, and the calling off termed as a victory for the airline management. In truth, it was an unjust repression, which shows the changing face of India’s work ethics.

the tale of the rat poison seller

He used to sell a formulation designed to exterminate vermin. Standing at the town’s most crowded street corner, he’d bawl his guts out, “Maro, Maro” which literally translates to “kill, kill”. This intonation of his would go on for hours at a stretch, be it the most inclement of weathers, which came with annoying regularity. The toughest season was summer, which lasted for more than nine months in a year. The proximity to the sea made his white polyester shirt cling to his frail frame so much so that his clenched nerves, throbbing with his screams, would seem on the verge of exploding, leaving just a frame of bones still yelling ‘Maro, Maro’.


He was pitch black, emaciated, not very tall, and bespectacled, having long smooth hair, oiled to an extent that they would appear thoroughly wet. The hair themselves were a remarkable color, the blackest black imaginable; the kind of black you would show a kid to define black. He had a huge cyst on his neck, which used to wriggle with each superhuman effort of his to bring out the loudest amplitude, exhorting everyone to turn into murderers. The pain and discomfort would be there for everyone to see, but it somehow seemed that this remarkably strong willed persona was always destined to pursue this grotesque profession.

People stumbling over him, giving probing, amused or shocked glances would turn away with a sentiment akin to guilt, as though they were collectively responsible for the misery heaped upon him. The usual progression of emotions on coming across this hideous outcome of human civilization was amazement, amusement, sympathy, guilt and finally, an accusing indifference. For some, the indifference could even turn into hatred. They would feel indignant, blaming him for having roused their apathetic interest just like a blazing curio among the inconsequential trinkets at an amusement park. They would hate him for flaunting his pathos, his misery and the absolute lack of emotion he showed, his apparent indifference to derisive glances, his unconcern with the fruits of his labor and his tenacity which gave them a measure of their own vulnerability.

death to kasab

Since yesterday, when the death sentence for Kasab was announced, there is unbridled joy being expressed by the media and the people in general. The splurge of posts on social networking sites celebrating the judgment takes on various hues. Some condemn the time and money spent on his trial for what should have been an open-and-shut case. Some praise the Indian judicial system which allows even someone like Kasab to undergo a fair trial, and some just resort to jingoistic balderdash.


There is another group of people who dwell upon the morality of the death penalty and whether such a ‘heinous’ act should be abolished altogether, like in some countries. This group assumes that death penalty is an inhuman or heinous act. In my opinion, it isn’t so. As a matter of fact, a death sentence is probably the mildest form of retribution for someone who has no hope of evading the law. Amongst all fears that plague us, fear of death is probably the one which is least encountered. How many of us are actually afraid of dying, how many of us even ever think about dying, which is in fact the only certainly of life. Each of us is going to die anyhow, so how does death become a punishment. In fact, the quick death by the noose is perhaps much easier to endure than a slow painful death.

And does awarding the death penalty become a deterrent? Certainly not. How can something which you or anyone you know has never experienced become a deterrent? Suffering, we all know, or can at least imagine, but death? Moreover, a quick death ensures that someone like Kasab, so heavily indoctrinated with his fanaticism takes his hatred to the grave with him. So, it’s just a proponent of an ideology who dies, the dogma itself still survives, and in fact, flourishes, emphasized by the assumed martyr who gave his life for it.

On the other hand, if such a criminal is subjected to life-long torment, with no respite or hope, the aura associated with his act gradually fades away, both in his own as well as his supporters’ eyes. In the never-ending anguish, the perpetrator may even realize the futility of his crime. As for retribution, what can be a bigger revenge than having someone spend his whole life confined within four walls in sub-human living conditions? The ideas that he lives on are likely to wither away in a matter of months and he becomes a despicable reckless individual, detested because of his actions, but certainly not revered for his beliefs. For a religious fanatic, the death penalty is a sort of corroboration of his viewpoint. It just endorses the filmy cliché ‘it’s better to die with your head held high than to go through an agonizing existence forever facing ridicule, scorn and contempt’.

theatre of the absurd

On similar lines to me previous post, sample some outrageous headlines on electronic media (none of this is a figment of my imagination, I don’t have such fertile imagination to come up with these gems):


‘Camere me kaala jaadu karte dekhi gai churail’ (The power of the camera, Dibakar Bannerjee’s inspiration?)

‘India TV ke paas hila dene wala video’

‘Kapde churane wala bhoot’

‘Commissioner ka kutta laapata’

‘Chajje pe billo rani’ (this was about a cat perched on a roof, roof-shattering news indeed)

Khooni ped ka rahasya

Yeh khabar sirf kirayedar dekh sakta hai, makaan malik dekhega to royega

'kanoon ke lambe haathon se narbhakshak ki pitaai' (lawyers bashing up pandher)

'dhongi baba ka naag nritya'

'dada ki dadagiri rang layee' (Saurav ganguly)

some media bashing

The recent self-righteous and smug display of moral outrage over the IPL by the media, the politicians, and any and everyone who wants to be heard without having anything substantial to say is ridiculously funny and tragic at the same time. The ever-increasing impact of the media can have no better manifestation than this imbroglio. Speculative reporting, uninformed opinions, and shameless sensationalism has been the hallmark of media houses over the past decade or so. Lately, however, it has touched a new low with absolute disregard for accountability and answerablity. How often do we see reports citing ‘informed sources’ or ‘insiders comments’? That the media influences the actions of the state was exemplified by the sudden surge of allegations of financial misconduct, uproars in parliament and the abrupt probes into the so-called IPL scam. In a country where financial misconduct is almost a norm, the alacrity with which state agencies swooped down upon the IPL was ridiculous and absurd. And the media, which was crying hoarse over how the IPL is a ‘murky’ and sinister undertaking clammed up, all of a sudden. There was no attempt to substantiate the charges leveled, and no reporting of what the tax raids and crack-downs unearthed The sickening slander and attacks on individuals vanished into thin air as soon as the situation veered away from speculative to substantive.


And this was not the first instance that the media transgressed over its role as a reporter to a creator of news or a self-appointed opinion-builder. The Nithari killings were a shocking example of how the media can create abominable villains without bothering about even a shred of evidence. The fact that Moninder Singh Pandher was acquitted by the courts was conveniently ignored by the media. This is largely because our collective conscious loves to hate. Branding someone as a cannibal and coming up with macabre analyses of the gory details of the killings, the media never even bothered to ponder upon the fact that no one is guilty until proven. Letting their imagination run riot, the media actually weaved up stories of illicit relations, and the tragic possibility of a father killing his daughter in the Arushi murder case in Delhi. The sole aim of the media in these instance and many more, was to introduce shock value, the more implausible and horrifying the claims, the better. This tendency surfaced once again in the systematic slander against Sunanda Pushkar.

Invariably, the media loves to feed upon the clichés and beliefs of the majority. The insinuation that a single woman has to indulge in some hanky-panky to become successful reeks of the shameful regressive mores, redolent of Madhur Bhandarkar movies.

Around a year back, a vernacular daily in MP cited ‘informed sources’ to claim that the ‘Big Bang’ experiment might lead to the end of the world. Recently, leading electronic and print media reported unauthorized border intrusions by China, again, citing ‘highly placed government officials.

There will be numerous such vignettes on the recent IPL scam, like the claim that the I-T department has prepared a investigation report related to alleged match fixing and betting in IPL. The fact that the I-T department completely denied any investigations except the alleged tax frauds doesn’t bar the media from continuously toeing the betting line, and setting up panels and discussions on match fixing and betting at the IPL. And by now we would all have heard an acquaintance or two waxing eloquent about how he always knew that the IPL was fixed. Amid all the bellicose claims and counter-claims, initiated by the media and conveniently picked up the politicians and the susceptible media consumer, no-one bothered to check the veracity and credibility of these reports. How many of us know what are the exact charges leveled against Lalit Modi and what is the substantiation of these charges, or what exactly is the much discussed ‘sweat equity’ which brought innumerable riches to the vampish man-eating sunanda pushkar. We smugly concluded that out long-held beliefs were finally being vindicated.

What makes it all the more sinister is the impact of such irresponsible reporting. Pandher, the ‘cannibal’, was brutally assaulted by a group of lawyers, and will bear a lifelong stigma. The parliamentarians went into a tizzy about how the opposition had its hands full with the dirty money from the IPL. In a country where the legal recourse takes years to materialize, we have Joint Parliamentary Committees set up in a matter of days to probe the financial conduct of the whole IPL bandwagon. Yes, media vigilantism does have its positive aspects, but lately things have gone a bit too far and the result of it all is a growing skepticism developing towards the authenticity of the media, which was considered to a infallible and reliable not too long back.

piracy: the only door to good cinema

Thanks to UTV world movies / Lumiere etc, we now have legal access to movies like 400 blows, 13 tzameti, red, blue, white, the lives of others etc. Otherwise, the only way out was the illegal one, which, I'm against, on principle, but principles are means to set others’ right, to gain an upper hand over an adversary, to win an argument, not for implementing upon ourselves. But, seriously, the only way you can procure non-english/non-indian language movies is through the internet or from the gaudy, swarming shopping holes invariably called AC markets. They have everything laid out for air conditioning, closed areas, little ventilation, no windows, self-closing doors, everything except the air conditioner. So when you enter the place, you can get a whiff of each shopkeeper’s body odor, but you can’t make it out because there are so many of them, and fused with it is the physical 'exuberance' of so many shoppers. In this oppressive atmosphere, you have to jostle for space with five or six more maniacs like you, each eying with greed the cardboard boxes in which the Kieslowskis, Bergmanns, and kubricks are waiting to delight you. The experience of traveling to such a place and then finding a gem like ashes and diamonds which you’d been looking for quite some time, is so exhilarating, it gives you goose flesh all over.

I was initiated into this milieu and subsequently into the world of 'sub-titled' cinema by a close friend, who’d led me to a similar place, except that due to a crackdown on piracy, it appeared much shadier and scarier back then. In Mumbai, constructions appear small externally, when they are viewed against the backdrop of the massive behemoth of the city itself. Once you get in, they seem to expand, and I used to be amazed at the sheer multitude of entities these apparently insignificant little buildings contained within themselves. Little galleries, which seem to be closing in on you, in which you’d have to turn sideways to let someone pass., small offices and shops, barely enough to allow two to sit, no windows and no way in for the sun. The darkness used to be spooky and morbid, be it morning, noon, or night, it was impossible to tell if the weather was cloudy or the sun was shining.

Anyway, I was led into such a setting and presented with some DVDs suggested by my friend and I realized that there's a plethora of great cinema beyond the english/hindi language stuff waiting to be explored. Initially, I was slightly circumspect about buying the DVDs, arguing about how piracy could destroy the film industry and so on and so forth. But once I caught the fever, I realized that someone who loves cinema and is not considerably rich cannot help but buy pirated movies. If I were looking for a legal DVD of say, a La Strada, or a fairly well-known 81/2, or even relatively unknown English movies like barry lyndon, would I get it? As far as I’m aware, I won’t be able to find it in any store in India. If I do choose to buy it online, it’d cost me half a grand at the very least. Around two years back, Palador and Moser Baer introduced a collection for World Movies; I thought this would be the end of all our problems. But I turned out to be wrong; each DVD was priced at 499, and later reduced to 399. Now, for a movie addict, the expenditure would turn out to be somewhere in the range of 3000-4000 per month. And if you opt for pirated cinema you'd get 10 DVDs at the price of one legal copy.

Now you can even avoid paying the 400 by downloading anything you want from the www. The only hitch is that if you want to watch movies in languages you dont understand, you might find it difficult to get sub-titled versions.

I fail to understand the rationale behind selling a DVD for 400-500. Even if you dont consider the economies of scale, a single DVD wouldn't cost Moser Baer not more than Rs. 15. Of course, they have to pay for the content and the rights, but even then, how much would be the net cost of a DVD, certainly won't be so high so as to justify the pricing. So what sort of returns are they expecting? And when they don’t sell, it will be conveniently concluded that India does not have a market for ‘intelligent cinema’. I don’t think the market dynamics justify the kind of pricing that we see in DVDs. As far as supply is concerned, as long as the prices are so high, the sales will remain low from the legal channel, so the perceived demand will remain less, and obviously the supply will not increase, a proverbial chicken and egg story.

Sadly, the biggest losers here are the film makers and their crews. If there are legal avenues to procure content at logical prices, I’m sure most viewers would prefer to use it. But if the price differential remains so high, this trend is likely to continue and flourish. I, at least, owe my ardor for cinema almost entirely to the illegal business of piracy.

lost gems

The 80s, a time when Hindi cinema was probably at its nadir, with movies like ‘Justice chaudhary and Nagina making it big, was also the period which saw the emergence of some of the greatest Indian film-makers, whose brilliance was given the recognition it deserved much later. The period when the audience’s sensibilities were being insulted so rampantly, when even Amitabh Bachchan was becoming unwatchable with disasters like Mard, Geraftaar and the likes, also witnessed the emergence of a wave of brilliant film-makers churning out phenomenal works consistently under the ambit of NFDC. Unfortunately, even before these films were made, they were graded as esoteric and arcane, and in a bizarre and hostile classification, ended up being identified as ‘art’ movies. There was absolutely no attempt to change this perception, or maybe there weren’t enough resources to do so, but due to these slants, these brilliant works invariably ended up on the idiot box, shown during the least-watched time-slots and with so little enthusiasm that they were destined to flounder and fade away from memory. I’m quite sure movies like Mandi, Trikaal, Disha and many others would have appealed to a huge audience which was being tormented at the hands of lewd 45 year old men jumping around earthen pots, winking and trying to grab at the asses of south-indian women playing coy. But it almost seemed as if NFDC did not want to sell these movies, their only concern was to get them made and their job was over. In a way, the fact that it was a non-profit organization, which in the first place allowed such movies to be made, turned out to be their bane, as the producer didn’t seem to give a damn about the film’s success, which is the reason many of the remarkable works of art from that era are now untraceable.

Thankfully, some of these movies, like Ankur, Mirch Masala etc. are available to us now in DVD/VCD formats. Additionally, some are legally available online such Party, Massey Saheb etc. But there is still a surfeit of movies which have been forgotten. Probably NFDC didn’t preserve the prints because it didn’t seem worth it to them or maybe they were not considered commercially viable, the fact that we are unable to retrieve some of the masterpieces of our times is really distressing.

The few I can recall from that era as being breath-taking but probably not available anywhere would be:

• Sudhir Mishra’s Ye Woh Manzil To Nahi: College politics captured remarkably well, a precursor to hazaaron khwahishen aisi. One of the best acts from pankaj kapoor
•  Prakash Jha’s Daamul: Rural Bihar and the tragedy it is (i'm sure it still is, despite all claims to the contary by the nedia on Nitish Kumar's magic)
• Current: Don’t know who made this, but it was smashing,  a simplistic premise of how one farmer (played to perfection by om puri) depserately tries to get electricity for running his tube-well and how he finally smashes it in despair
• Aziz Mirza’s Albert Pinto ko gussa kyun ata hai: Funny yet tragic, aziz mirza's best
• Mani Kaul’s Bagh Bahadur: Pavan Malhotra was outstanding in this, similar to kafka's take on trapeze artistes
• Goutam Ghose’s Paar: Brilliant premise of a couple trying to cross a river with their livestock, can you imagine anything like this being made today?
• Basu chatterjee's Do ladke dono kadke

I’m sure many of us could think of quite a lot of other such movies from those years. If anyone reading this post knows where they can be acquired from, do share it.

best hindi film albums of the decade

Gulaal: Piyush Mishra
The very first time you hear the soundtrack of Gulaal, you’ll inevitably ask, where were you all these days, Piyush Mishra? Easily the most authoritative and innovative work of our times, this was a one-man show all the way. Penning the lyrics, composing, singing, and even acting, Piyush Mishra floors you with his brilliance. Each and every composition was a gem, and choosing the best would be quite impossible. How often do you come cross poetry which can carry itself with or without the accompanied music;
Not that the music wasn’t brilliant, be it the brooding ‘raat ke musafir’, the raunchy ‘chakmak’ or the tongue-in-cheek ‘ranaji’. Throughout the movie, the somewhat directionless script would suddenly spring to life with a jolting ‘aarambh’ or a cynical ‘duniya’. And the poetry wasn’t restricted to the unconventional; even ‘aisi sazaa’ rose way above the mediocrity dished out in the name of lyrics these days.

The Legend of Bhagat Singh: A R Rehman
Like most of Rehman’s best works, music of ‘legend...’ does not strike you as being outstanding when you hear it for the first time. But give it a patient ear and you’ll fall in love with it. A R Rehman has the knack for choosing the perfect voice for a song, and extracting the best out of the playback singer, exemplified by ‘pagdi sambhal’, ‘sarfaroshi’ and ‘des mere’.

Swades: A R Rehman
For some reason, Rehman’s best works, quite like R D Burman, figure in movies which turn out to be duds on the BO. And his most ordinary works become runaway hits, cases in point Ghajini (atrocious by his standards) Slumdog Millionaire (definitely the most overrated of all his albums) and Taal (just above average). Rehman has introduced or discovered some of the most successful and unconventional playback singers of this decade, be it Kailash Kher in Yu hi chala chal, or mohit chauhan in masakalli.

No Smoking: Vishal BhardwajEasily the most under-rated and unheralded composition of this decade, ‘No smoking’ was again brilliant in all the three aspects, poetry, music, and rendition. To create 7 songs all focused on a cigarette, and doing it so remarkably, is something only Gulzaar could accomplish. Definitely the best from Vishal Bhardwaj after Maachis in the 90s.

Jism: M M KreemWhere has M M Kreem gone? Probably because he was associated with the Bhatt clan, his talent was criminally wasted in the Hindi film industry. The Bhatt clan movies in the past decade have come up with some of the best traditional urdu poetry, ably led by Sayeed Qadri. Awarapan and Mere Khwabon ka hare k naksh were absolutely brilliant, and were enhanced by the uncomplicated and conventional music by Kreem.

Delhi-6: A R Rehman:
Another dud with great music by Rehman. Unlike Legend and Swades, Delhi-6 did not seem to find enough takers even for its music, largely because of the concurrent brouhaha about the Oscar-winning slumdog. But I’m sure even A R Rehman would acknowledge that slumdog was way below his best, while Delhi-6 was quite close to it. Rehman’s most memorable compositions have been the devotional ones, one of which was arziyan from Delhi-6. Mohit Chauhan arrived with a bang with a superb rendition of masakkali. Along with Tere Bina from Guru, Rehna Tu was probably the best from the songs Rehman sung himself.

Omkara: Vishal Bhardwaj:
Zabaan pe laga, is reason enough for this album to appear in this list. Superbly penned by Gulzar and amazingly sung by Rekha Bhardwaj, this song and most others in the album were excellent. Notable also was the unfancied O sathi Re.

Hey Ram: Ilyaraja
There are many who emphatically aver that IlyaRaja is a much better composer than his protégé, Rehman. While I disagree with it, there’s no doubt that the rare occasions when he has composed for a hindi movie, he’s delivered.

Saathiya: A R Rehman:
Nothing more to write on Rehman, again his use of Adnan Sami in udi udi, reaffirms his knack for choosing the right singer.

Lagaan: Once Upon a Time in India: A R Rehman:
The songs were ordinary by Rehman’s standards, but in the cinema hall, their impact and relevance to the script was awesome

A few more which were almost there:
· Tehzeeb by A R Rehman: Wish Rehman had not used percussion as much as he did on the songs of tehzeeb, they were melodious enough as it is. The poetry reminds you of sahir.
· MAI MEri patni aur wo by Sanjay Jaipurwale: Who can possible forget the remarkable ‘guncha’ again sung by Mohit Chauhan, or the melodious doob jaana re from this absolutely unknown composer who has since vanished from the scene. Not surprising, as no one really noticed the movie, leave alone the music.
· Rock On!!: Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy: Not so outstanding more so for a musical but pretty imaginative
· Guru: A R Rehman: Two great numbers: jaage hain der tak and tere bina
· Jab We Met: Pritam: All the songs were slightly above average
· Rog: M M Kreem: Typical kreem
· Kaminey: Vishal Bhardwaj
· Namastey London: Himesh Reshammiya-Surprise
· Dev.D: Amit Trivedi: Not memorable but quite different
· Oye Lucky Lucky Oye: Sneha Khalwankar As unique as it gets, inspired by the music of rural punjab
· Welcome to Sajjanpur: Shantanu Moitra: Ek meetha marz de ke, great on the ears
· Ajab Prem Ki Gazab Kahani by Pritham: Tu Jaane Na..

sex and the web

Had some faltu time and decided to look at my spam folder, it was quite a hilarious experience, the language and the creativity is outrageous
Want to be with me? Write me sms.
Hello my dear. Hey, want to marry a Russian (almost all such mails talk about Russian ‘beauties’, whats it with Russians) beauty? I want you, my good man. Come to my profile - you'll get a surprise! You want what would you be good (???)? Come to me.
Make your love locomotive enter her tunnel on a full speed (this is priceless).
You have not had sex with a Russian girl? Come to us and you shall have it!
Hello my sweet kitty - do you completely forgot about my Russian pussy?
I'll gently kiss your neck, lower and lower (this is as low as you can get), come to me.
I'll like you? Remember that night in the hotel? (whats the idea behind writing this)Can I ask you? "Was you ever have sex with a Russian girl? (Russian again)Would you like to try it?"
I am now in America - a guy looking for dating and sex. (this a guy or a Russian girl?)
I thought you loved me - and you?
Hello! Spring has finally come! Romance is in the air!
Beautiful and still single (!!!) Russian and Ukrainian women are eager to meet you!
They have placed their profiles at SingleRussianGirls dating site and waiting for your emails.

Tell me many kind words dear.
When you stopped a taxi for me (that’s the height of imagination),
it was very nice, do not want to see me again? Marina.
Let's talk more my bunny
Hello, my sun (first time I heard sun as a term of endearment), you do not have a girl?
"I was completely free! (you are not free anymore?, why the mail then)
I used to be skeptical about penis pills advertised in the mass media. I read the medical sites that said herbal supplements could never help you increase your penis size. That depressed me, because I knew I didn't have a penis big enough to arouse any of my partners. At my age, I could not perform sexually as well as a young man. Being assured that I wouldn't lose my money anyway, I tried 3 bottles (3 bottles, that guy’s desperate) of your ViagPURE Pills and was pleasantly surprised by the results I saw. In about 3 weeks of taking the pills I witnessed a dramatic increase (3 bottles of pills should turn it into a beanpole) in thickness and length. At the time I finished my third bottle I had 2 more inches on me and a considerable improvement in my sex life. It is certainly well worth the money I paid.
And this was worth the time I spent

20 best hindi films of this decade

Here’s another list, the top twenty hindi films of this decade, i.e., 2000 onwards, in my opinion. More or less in order of preference.

1. Swades: We, the People (2004)
   
2. Maqbool (2004)
   
3. Black Friday (2007)
   
4. Lagaan (2001)
   
5. Company (2002)
   
6. Mumbai Meri Jaan (2008)
   
7. Shaurya (2008)
   
8. Taxi Number 9211 (2006)
   
9. Khosla Ka Ghosla (2006)
   
10. Sehar (2005)
    
11. Hungama (2003)
    
12. Main Meri Patni Aur Who (2005)
    
13. Garam Masala (2005)
    
14. Malamaal Weekly (2006)
    
15. Oye Lucky! Lucky Oye (2008)
    
16. Mithya (2008)
    
17. Munna Bhai M.B.B.S (2003)
    
18. Shikhar (2005)
    
19. Dev (2004)
    
20. Aankhen (2002)
    

mumbai diaries - 26th july at deonar

I was among the fortunate few who witnessed the momentous day in the annals of Mumbai folklore, the flooding on 26^th July. I was not affected by it in the first person, sitting peacefully at a friend’s place in the suburb Deonar, which is on higher altitude than most parts of the city. However, when I ventured out after the unprecedented downpour had stopped; I witnessed another instance of the peculiarities of the city’s denizens. On a small chai shop, there was a throng of people, soaked from top to bottom, and each desperately vying for attention. They seemed genuinely pleased with themselves, as if they were describing a historic feat of theirs rather than a calamitous situation. Each had a story to tell, about how he or she waded through knee deep water to walk five or six kms, and how there were numerous others doing the same. It’d be a bit insensitive to make fun of a situation which involved the loss of numerous lives, but one can’t help but marvel at the city’s masochistic tendencies. What particularly baffled me was that a big number of these sufferers could actually have avoided the deluge if they had chosen to stay indoors. It was not as if it was a sudden flooding which happened without anyone’s knowledge. It was a gradual build-up over a period of four to five hours, which was continuously being televised and almost everyone was aware of the grim situation before embarking on their adventures. And in the discussions which followed, on the streets, in homes, on television, each individual was emphatically trying to go one up on each other. And those who missed being in action invariably started feeling deprived and left-out, with no tale to tell. Even so many years down the line, you can detect an inexplicable pride saying “I was there on that day”.

Stanley Kubrick: The creative genius

A character in a movie is usually defined with reference to the script; it does not exist beyond the confines of the script. The character exists because the story needs to progress. There may be some film-makers who try to flesh-out the character by mulling over the likely responses to a designed situation. But a rare few seem to think of the characters as actual entities beyond the action–response cycle. The peculiarities of the character are pre-defined, and it does not usually grow, it does not evolve into a more violent, a more loving or a more disgusting person as the story progresses. His mannerisms, his gait, his eccentricities, his dialects, the people he loves or hates, are all decided by someone else for him. Stanley Kubrick, however, evolved characters rather than just defining them. Consider the way his characters from different movies referred to the act of sex. For the marines in the Full Metal Jacket, it was the bellicose, martial ‘boom-boom’. For the deranged and vulgar Alex DeLarge and his bunch of drooges from ‘A Clockwork Orange’ it was the ‘ol’ in-out in-out’. Professor Humbert Humbert, the step-father-cum-lover of Lolita, with all his erudite ambivalence and the meandering ways of the small town, referred to it as ‘getting a cavity filled’. The estranged couple of ‘Eyes Wide Shut’ had lost its allure and could only describe it as the ‘physical act of love’. Just by referring to a single apparently insignificant event in the film, the characters here are establishing their unique identities and acquainting the audience with their mind-sets and milieu. Even if these may be ideas from the screen-writer or anyone else associated with the films, I’d give credit to the film maker for having provided the room, the urge, for the stimulation of such creativity.For Stanley Kubrick, the character was a lot more beyond someone who took the script to its logical culmination. For him, the character was a story by itself. In Dr. Strangelove, Jack Ripper was not just one militant, Russian-communist-hating maniac; he was also a failed lover who somehow managed to attribute even his inability in bed to the Russians. Even the complexity of HAL in 2001: A space odyssey was dictated by an innate ‘logical’ intent to make sure that the mission succeeds, which according to it, was possible only when the rest of the crew was eliminated. The violent streak of Jack Torrance in Shining was not out-of-the-blue. It was just an exaggerated manifestation of his minor irritations at his wife and son.Just by the way of their expressions, the characters in Stanley Kubrick’s movies establish themselves as individuals with distinctive personalities. Each expression, each step, each action and each word uttered went towards strengthening that personality, to such an extent that they would start appearing like the natural behavioral traits of the individual. At these times, we forget that what we perceive as being personality traits are all contrived and manufactured; we tend to ignore the fact that the personality itself is a figment of someone’s imagination, so how can the traits be inherent. We fail to realize that there is no Dr. Strangelove out there who has this extraordinary figurative hand running out of control, we never dwell upon the fact that there have been no historical records which tell us how the ape-man from the 'dawn of man' felt that surge of all-conquering power when it devised it’s first ‘weapon’. Once we realize that this is all a result of the creative imagination of an individual, of course, abetted by a few others, but largely, a single individual, we realize the enormity of the brilliance that we behold. Such meticulousness, the remarkable eye for details and a razor sharp mind, were only some of the things which established Kubrick among the world’s most imaginative and exalted film-makers. Kubrick’s penchant for authenticity was so extraordinary that he his replica of the B-52 bomber he used in Dr. Strangelove had the US Air Force questioning him on how he managed to shoot in a USAF bomber. Everything, right from the controls to the survival kit contents was precise and accurate. At times, his meticulousness went to absurd proportions. Like, in 2001: A space odyssey; for a sequence in a space station when the toilet is shown, there is a reference to a printed ‘instructions for using a zero-gravity toilet’ put up near the toilet, which the protagonist is unable to read because of the small text size. Thereafter, there’s no further reference to the zero-gravity toilet or the instructions. Many year later, the actual instruction booklet was exhibited, which was actually five-page long, and when you go through it, you’ll realize that it actually tries very hard to simplify using a toilet in a zero-gravity situation describing numerous contraptions and their functions. In another such instance, in clockwork orange, when Alex is shown in a record store, flirting with a girl, one of the records on display is that of 2001: A space odyssey. What was this? Advertising? An idiosyncrasy of an eccentric genius? Or a ploy to play with fans? We’ll never know for sure.

mumbai diaries

The city of Mumbai, widely anointed with temporal sobriquets such as the city which never sleeps, the city of dreams, and the city with an indomitable spirit, has held an allure, a mystique and a sense of inadequacy for the millions living away from this remarkable convergence of humanity. The denizens of small towns, villages and even other metros are invariably in awe of this monolith, and millions of its residents. I persistently held the city in an inexplicable reverence for years, visiting it as a kid, and even as an adult. My first few trips to the behemoth after I’d attained the age and the ability to discern and judge from my own perceptions only served to entrench this awe, largely because I was only a temporary visitor who did not have to go through the grind of the average mumbaikar. I was not made to go through the travesties which make this city what it is. I was like someone who enjoys the rare kicks afforded by a dabbler as against the dope fiend who just cannot survive without his daily fix, even though he’s long ceased to experience the high associated with it. My perceptions changed dramatically when I actually had to experience the city at its rawest. And gradually the aura began to fade, the inanity of the sobriquets started hitting me and the collective human monolith broke down to show its simplicity and pettiness.
Having gone through a particularly harrowing journey in the peak of summer through the burning hostile territory of our country, the vidarbha region, I was sapped of all energy and my only desire was to rest in a cool, hospitable bed. Waiting for a friend who was expected to pick me up from Kurla, I went into a slumber enervated and apprehensive about taking the city on all by myself. I was bluntly brought to life when I realized that someone was trying to pull my bag from under my arms. I turned around to find a frowning cop wielding his lathi, and thus began my initiation into the ways of the city. Phenomenally pleased with himself, the policeman started giving me a liturgy on how someone could rob your pants off without your knowledge in Mumbai. Drop-dead drowsy as I was, I still managed to notice a twinkle in his eyes, as though he was extolling some saintly virtues of his fellow city-mates. This was my first lesson, the average mumbaiah is proud of everything about the city, more so, about the sleaze prevalent therein. Anyway, I was summarily kicked out of the station, having been informed that this was not a place to sleep. I could not have agreed with him more, had I not seen at least a hundred more, with my limited range of vision, committing the same crime that very time in front of my eyes.
Having given up on my friends’ arrival, I took the cop’s advice and ventured into the frying pan, the first time on my own, feeling circumspect and drained like never before. I was not unprepared, though, I was aware of the approximate distance to my destination, as well as the fact that travelling in a local train was the best option. On enquiring about the local trains, I got a look which was a combination of condescension, exasperation, and ‘what a moron’, with the concise explanation that I had to go to kurla to catch a local. I was quite bewildered, being under the impression that I was already at Kurla. After guiltily pestering a few others, who were in a tremendous hurry and considered any obstruction in their furious tempo a sacrilege, I discovered that I had to go to another station, roughly 1 km away. While a few auto-drivers bluntly ignored my pleas to take me to the kurla station, a bystander, or rather, a by-racer; as noone actually stands in the always-in-a-hurry city, started giving me a lecture on how easy it was to walk one km. Ignoring his advise, I decided to take the road route.
Thus began another going-nowhere discussion with the autowallas about getting to lokhandvala. Meanwhile, a sikh driver, ostensibly moved by my plight, came up with a ‘helping hand’, snatching my luggage and dumping it in his cab without a moment’s notice. Though somewhat aware of the dent travelling in a cab would make in my wallet, I was too pooped to ignore my mind’s frantic pleas for a respite. The cabbie feigned complete ignorance about lokhandwala in andheri, which I’m sure every single resident of Mumbai would agree, was quite preposterous. After seemingly scouring the whole city for the elusive lokhandwala, the cabbie probably developed some sympathy for me. Following a two hour quest which I slept through, we finally arrived at the apparently obscure lokhandwala complex at andheri. Pretty much expecting a hefty amount, I paid up the taxi and finally reached my destination. Almost at the point of losing my bearings, I experienced unprecedented delight when I found a bed laid out for me in an air-conditioned room and what followed was a marathon 17 hour sleep to prepare myself for bigger challenges in the days to come.

elimination of the naxal threat

Around an year back, I had written a post about how the Chhattisgarh government’s tactics were serving to destroy the entire social structure of the Bastar tribes (http://resistancerebellionanddeath.blogspot.com/2008/08/do-read-this-and-think-youve-nothing-to.html). A year down the line, the very tactics, endorsed by the local media, the urban middle and upper class, and the central government, and conveniently ignored by the national media, have been adopted on a nationwide scale. A recent article in Tehelka, the only publication which regularly tries to communicate the tribal’s plight, has prompted me to express my views on this extremely significant, but again, largely ignored, move by the Indian government.
In the words of the home minister, P Chidambarm, a counter-insurgency militia has been deployed to wipe out the naxalites from India. As the Tehelka article pointed out, the biggest discrepancy in the state’s ‘elimination strategy’ is that the enemy in this military operation is unidentifiable. From the home ministers’ standpoint, it seems it’s the naxals. But who are the naxalites? The oxford and Webster dictionaries still don’t recognize the word, although the oxford dictionary does consider the words ghee, pakora, samosa, and tandoori significant enough to be included. Wikipedia offers a very one-dimensional labeling of the naxalites as a group of violent communists who have rejected parliamentary democracy and have vowed to rule the people by imposing dictatorship of their party.
The churlishness of these disinterested third-parties aside, who would the home minister term as a naxalite. A simplistic definition would be someone who subscribes to the naxalite/maoist ideology. But even the staunchest anti-naxalite would agree with the fact that most of those who have taken up arms to combat the state are from the most oppressed, disenfranchised and illiterate sections of the society. The so-called ideologues hardly ever get into the battle zone, nor do they subscribe to the mindless violence propagated by the cadre. On ground zero, the naxalite is in all likelihood unaware of the country to which mao belonged or the essential premise of his brand of communism. His/her revolution is limited to getting back at the entity whom he considers culpable for the miserable living conditions he and his fraternity have had to endure for decades. He does not have the discernment to segregate the state from the human beings which constitute it. In his restricted point of view, an inhuman attack on any individual from the government machinery is an act of retribution.
Quite obviously, this viewpoint is by no means justifiable. But then, why is the state resorting to the same warped rationale? Why is it conveniently turning individuals into groups to make its task of identifying the enemy easier? Shouldn’t there be a difference between the thought process of the democratically elected machinery and an illiterate rabble-rouser? From the actions initiated over the past few months, the difference has ceased to exist. Instead of eliminating the problems faced by individuals who constitute and comprise the state, the solution adopted is to eliminate the very individual who has a problem.
On a more elementary level, how does the state, represented by the militia, actually identify a naxalite (or a group, for that matter)? The simplest way out, and which has been in vogue for the past decade or so in states like chattisgarh is to dub anyone who is disgruntled as a threat. And from what the trends of the past few months depict, the threat is not to be kept behind bars anymore, it has to be liquidated.
The most juvenile idea behind the tactics being adopted, as propounded by P. Chidambaram is that the naxalites are a bigger threat than J&K terrorists. By that logic, if the government, even after adopting the most stringent military measures in the disputed state, has been unable to make any headway towards removing terrorism, how does it expect to tackle this ‘bigger threat’ within such a short time and with much a much lesser military force?

truth?

These days, I often wonder if I can actually say I believe in something, with conviction. In Sri Lanka, whatever the media says and whatever had been happening for years now seems to indicate that the hard-nosed decimation of the tigers is an encouraging development. However, every now and then, you come across write-ups and exposes illustrating such horror and tragedy that you invariably start questioning the rationale behind such an act when it is likely to result in an even more tempestuous reprisal.
In chattisgarh, the national and international media, independent bodies, NGOs etc. reveal that the government is carrying out an unprecedented abuse of the tribal population. You enter the cities of chattisgarh, the media and the populace is all praise for the government for having rid them of the power problems, for establishing the state as an industrial power-house, and for taking the fight to the naxalites.
For them, the law-enforcer has to counter the tribal naxalites’ violence with violence and any accusation of excesses is either collateral or manufactured by the naxals. The media in the region is particularly in favor of the establishment, which is attributed by some to fear of the state and by others to true understanding of the ground situation, depending upon their political leanings.
The national media, and even the international media, seems to have a diametrically opposite view of the situation in the state. That the media is always looking for ways to find scapegoats and particularly to blame the establishment for all the ills is a well-known, the Mumbai blasts being a case-in-point.
We do know that the media’s credibility is questionable, but so is that of the government. Everyone knows how conveniently the state distorts the truth to suit itself. So, how do we get to know the ‘truth’? Not everyone can get into Vanni and Dantewada to see for oneself. Are we destined to live in the dark forever, occasionally blinded by some artificial flashes of artificial illumination?

the ipl trophy

Quite in consonance with the nature of the event, the trophy designed for the IPL also focuses more on the stars and the glitter rather than the basics, which is cricket. It is quite amazing that a trophy for a cricket tournament involving the world's greatest cricketers depicts the figurine of a batsman playing an impossible shot with an incorrect and absurd grip on the bat. In fact, its quite amazing how so many people managed to ignore this for two years, because its quite evident that a right-handed batsman playing a shot with his left hand being the bottom hand is quite out-of-the-question.
The bat swing is also so inane that its evident that the designer has absolutely no clue about cricket, just another one is the list of those involved in this amazing event.