DHAN-TE-NAN

The title itself was very unusual to be translated in a Bollywood commercial movie. I hate using the word commercial. It is an institution, which is going to inspire a completely new genre of film making in India. I only hope they don’t end up copying or creating multiple cheap versions of this movie. Secondly the actors who have been introduced in this movie shouldn’t be type caste. They have oodles of talent. Every actor ignites the screen. The movie only had two very commercially viable names – Shahid Kapur and Priyanka Chopra. Others included Amole Gupte who had ideated Taare Zameen Par as Bhope Bhaoo propagating the slogan – Jai Maharashtra! Outsiders not allowed. Inspector Lobo & Inspector Lele fitted to T in the role of corrupt cops. Taashi – The Great proved how great an actor he is. Zetan looked dangerous. Mikhail was simply addictive. Every big and small character was given a Lion’s share to put their acting skills to work. No one tried to outdo the other or tower amongst the others. Every one was perfect.

The most surprising element though was Shahid Kapur. He is both Charlie & Guddu. One stammers, the other lisps. One lives by the gun and the other is a brand ambassador of peace. Turning their world upside down are two things – A Guitar Case & Sweety (Priyanka Chopra). The Indian film industry is full of movies that had twin brothers, sisters, fathers and mothers. But KAMINEY stands out.

Kaminey is definitely dark. As I mentioned above, the title itself is so unusual that thinking of it as a movie is itself incredible. Internationally only Quentin Tarantino can risk something so dark and yet come out unscathed. But Vishal Bharadwaj is our answer to Hollywood. With Kaminey he has unleashed a new brand of movies. I am much more biased because I love stories told in a dark light. I always like the other side of a personality which is tarnished, bruised and demands attention. Kaminey has all of that. Mine is not a review but an appreciation what I say. The movie had ample doses of Marathi and Bengali dialogues. They were not that tough so every one followed what the characters spoke and the entire auditorium echoed with laughter.

After a long period, I also thoroughly enjoyed the climax of the movie. It did complete justice to the dark humorous feel of the movie. My heart still went out to Mikhail. In him, I discovered a friend who can remain a friend till the last breath he takes. Mikhail loves Charlie like his brother. He doesn’t dread the gun that threatens to endanger his life. He only knows that he hates seeing Charlie in trouble. He shares Charlie’s aspirations and he is an important link in the movie. The way he sings in the rains, the way he teases his elder brothers and the way he snorts coke; simply phenomenal. Chandan Roy Chaudhary who plays Mikhail is a discovery by Vishal Bharadwaj after Deepak Dobriyal. Kaminey had no known faces from Maqbool or Omkara but the introduction of new characters complemented its freshness.

Kaminey focuses on the meaner side of our lives. Even a kid can’t help being getting mean when he is tempted to something he likes most. Brothers, cops, partners, politicians, sweetheart and every one else is mean, meaner and meanest. Kaminey is all about that. And if you think, so much of meanness isn’t enough; wait for Ishqiya to come your way. Trust me, Love can’t get meaner than this.

So let’s welcome the new Dhan-Te-Nan.

- vociferous

UNDERLYING UNREST

Life is such an illusion that most of the times we end up believing in the most incredible. Take for instance a time frame that seems to be so picture perfect. Every thing appears as we want them to appear to us. Leisure that remained inexperienced transforms into a reality. Botheration seems to be at the least. The ambience seems illuminated thrillingly. Desires of touching the skies start getting so real that we take a giant leap only to fall into a pit, which is being dug quietly. After biting the dust, we realise the magnitude of the underlying unrest. Just like a lump of lava in the core of Mother Earth, there is immense amount of unrest that keeps signalling an outburst. Very rarely do we take notice of the circumstances around us. Foolishly we give into the excitement that is so short lived. The smiles that greet us hint conspiracy in it. The sudden influx of inactivity tries to overshadow the active achievements of the time bygone. All this only because we are selfish, self centred and blinded by the sparkle of a hypothetical reality. Shamelessly we also give into their charming tactics who are busy inflicting unaccountable damage to your presence and to your future. With an open mouth and great enthusiasm we sit there feeling entertained. In the due course, we become so prone to the illusion that we feel this is the best time of our lives. We travel that extra mile to criticise those who warn us against such wrong doings. This underlying unrest is far more dangerous than nuclear weapons, which when put to use kill instantly. But silenced trouble keeps killing silently. It enters through the mind, hijacks the heart and kills the conscience within. From humans we become animals and start hunting for that one last moment of activeness. Very few are capable enough to feel the vibrations of the underlying unrest. So very successfully they disappear at an opportune time. Then there are those, who knowingly want to be an integral part of an unfortunate end. It just arrives unannounced. It doesn’t surprise but brutally enslaves you. No super human force can fight the trauma of being victimised by underlying unrest. Some of us prefer to stay neutral by neither bothering nor shunning the thought of being soft targets of the reality, which at the moment is being kept as a top secret. Thousands of minds are functioning at the same time to keep it alive. Gaining is what they perceive and losing is what the uninformed deserve. It is like that sleep of a long night, which is never followed by a bright & fresh morning. All that follows is malaise in abundance. It doesn’t have a smell, it doesn’t have a shape. But all it has is an impact that lasts for years and one can never recover from. So before it gets too late, it is necessary to look around and wake up to realise that unknowingly perhaps we are not being victimised by the creators of this underlying unrest. Not a weapon but only the mind can cut through the thickness of this doomed thought and maybe put to rest the underlying unrest.

-vociferous

UNKNOWN REALITIES

Suburban lives survive in unison with only one network that keeps them connected – The Train. On a regular basis, we see innumerable faces. We know nothing about them and still try to draw a character sketch about them. Gradually we do get familiar with some of them during our regular course of journey. And then one day, when we discover about their unknown realities, we end up feeling so incomplete.

Bobby

He is dark. Always drunk and confused, he takes great pleasure in giving the trains a miss. His bloodshot eyes are unwatchable and his verbal abuses cross the permissible limits of indecency. Dark skinned, well built and dressed averagely; he is a hardcore hooch addict. He always travels by a first class compartment, which signifies the fact that he has a decent job and is an employee very much in demand. His telephonic conversations are often punctuated with irrelevant references to unimaginable events. Sometimes due to over consumption of alcohol, he salivates incessantly. I never even knew that he has got a name. Until one day, he boarded the train. Then jumped out of it and waived to his friends. They yelled, “Bobby, Don’t be lazy”.

Who and what is Bobby? A character, an alcoholic, a loser or a bad man? Like other human beings, he is made of blood and flesh. His lifestyle is different from us. He never takes the jokes cracked on him, seriously. I have been his observant for almost two years now. Disobeying his friends, cracking ugly jokes and verbal abuses seem to have become a routine of his. He continues missing the trains and he continues over consuming alcohol. One day he seemed to be in control and sat quietly, said nothing. For a single day he seemed to be out of his usual character. I was stunned. His regular group of friends barged in and cracked jokes as usual. Bobby stood up, grabbed his bag, stuffed his mouth with a packet of tobacco and stepped out of the train. I couldn’t hold back my curiosity and inquired with a friend of his who also happens to be my friend. I tried to probe into the psyche of this person called Bobby. The revelation made by this friend of his was startling, tragic and painful. The things he said contradicted the sketch I had drawn of Bobby in my mind. He was never the drunkard that he is now.

So once again I was eager to discover Bobby. I still don’t know to which caste or religion he belongs to. His lingo signifies his identity of being a native. His friend started talking and by the time he concluded, I turned blank.

He started, “We have known Bobby for over 6 years. He was never like this. He had a lovely wife and possibly has a daughter or son. Bobby loved his wife very much. Then one day, she fell ill. Visits to doctors, specialists, hospitals and health care centres did no good to her health. One day she succumbed to an unknown illness. The day she breathed her last, Bobby was by her side and saw her die in pain. He shook her dead body and pleaded her to open her eyes. He even asked her to talk to him. But dead bodies never speak. He stood up, called us to inform that his wife was no more. We gathered at his residence. He was still sitting there by her side with his head bent deep in his knees. After all the preparations were done to take her to the crematorium, Bobby didn’t want to let us take her body out of the home. We couldn’t believe what next he planned to do. Painstakingly we made him believe that she was dead and she was being taken away for the last rites to be performed. After the cremation, Bobby returned home speechless. In a week he turned into a sort of a recluse. And in the next ten days, he drowned himself in alcohol (hooch in particular). From then till now, he is yet to recover from that shock. On every new day, we are seeing Bobby mutilate his own self.”

I couldn’t believe what was just told to me. The train moved and by the sudden jerk, my thoughts were shaken up. I had always looked down on Bobby. I always considered him to be a drunkard who had by now mastered the art of travelling by first class. Though he is surrounded by friends, he knows no one is his well wisher. He is happy being the alcoholic he is. As the train moved, once again I saw Bobby jump out of the train. Once again his friends yelled, “Bobby, Don’t be lazy.” Only this time, I heard him reply in a loud and clear voice, “My wife just called on my cell. She is missing me, so I dropped the idea of going to office and am going to be with her”!

I stood their surprised again and stunned by the fact that his wife was long dead. His friend smiled at me and said, “He is not going back to his wife but he is going to the local bar to drain down his daily dose of hooch”. This image of Bobby contradicted the image of his, I held in my mind. It shattered the impression of him as a drunkard. Today when I look at him, I curse myself of being so foolishly unaware of the reality. This side of Bobby’s life would have always remained unknown to me, had I not taken keen interest in discovering who he was. Sometimes realities are left unknown and it works so negatively against one individual in particular.

Kshirsagar

Average built, six feet one inch tall, dressed formally, bespectacled; Mr. Kshirsagar always had this habit of hopping on to the train before it came to a halt. Though he always contemplated taking the window seat; luck didn’t favour him. Still he satisfied himself with the third seat position on the opposite side of the train’s momentum. Even though he worked as a Space Selling Executive with an afternoon tabloid, he dipped his head deep into a copy of a famous regional daily. The only time he raised his head was when we cracked jokes, spoke about creativity and discussed ads. I particularly tried to avoid him because of his repeated requests to meet the creative honcho of my ex agency, which was next to impossible. Though he claimed to have met him in the past, only I knew his version wasn’t completely true in form or in imagination. He still kept requesting for just one meeting. His wish remained unfulfilled and so did my never made promise.

Gradually, I left travelling by the same train. And after having discontinued with my regular schedule, I did make a come back. As lucky as I was, I occupied the same seat that I used to be a permanent member of. Once again I saw him sitting at his usual position. He was slightly puzzled. My revamp of image had left him confused to decide whether it was me or a look alike of mine. I still didn’t pay much attention. He found it even more difficult when I was greeted by the same set of friends I used to travel with. His only concern was why I was trying to ignore him in particular. I simply couldn’t blatantly ignore him any more. Some one also informed me that he was still finding it difficult to keep up with the pace of modern media selling practice. Without uttering a word, I disappeared in the crowd.

Almost three months passed away without the wink of an eyelid. I once again was back in the same train with the same group of friends/fellow travellers. I found it strange to see Kshirsagar gone missing. I jokingly inquired about the space seller. One of my close friends informed, “Kshirsagar passed away three months back following a massive heart attack. The day he passed away, he was with us. On the previous day of his demise he had finalised a deal with an FMCG company who in turn had agreed to advertise in the English daily, he was associated with. On the day of his demise, he was cordially dressed to attend the final round of meeting with the FMCG client. For the first ever time, lady luck had smiled on him that day by making available to him the window seat in the travelling direction. He was happy very happy. To celebrate the day of his achievement, he availed a half day. He was pleased to be home with his wife by 4 p.m. At around 4.55 p.m., I received a call from his wife. I was at my office. She informed Kshirsagar was no more.”

After my friend had finished narrating the reason behind Kshirsagar’s disappearance our eyes swelled with tears. An old friend of Kshirsagar told us how he had always remained a recluse in his professional arena. He also told us that Kshirsagar was never greedy for any thing. But he was too fond of people and the window seat in the train. Only that day I kept looking at the window seat, which remained vacant at least for three consecutive stations, the train passed. For a moment I thought, Kshirsagar would appear in no time. But he never came. All of us reached our destination. I couldn’t control my emotional thoughts of his. I was heartbroken. From within, I cursed myself for being so tight-fisted towards a man who just like me always remained a struggler in his life till the time he bid adieu to his life. Today I rarely take the train but whenever I travel by it, all that comes back to me are the unknown realities that I never knew about Kshirsagar. We and in particular me will miss him till the time we continue travelling by the same train.

- vociferous