The Game of Life and Death

 It was his first day playing for his team, and he got in at the last moment because the team’s main player was injured. He had always been passionate about kabaddi, begging his captain for a chance to play. Finally, his opportunity came, and facing a fierce team only made his adrenaline rush like a tsunami. Tense but confident, he was determined to secure a win for his team.

"We should have won last year," he often told his mother. His team had been a strong contender for the inter-school championship, but poor refereeing had left them as runners-up. That day, he fought back tears as he watched from the sidelines, promising himself he would help his team win the next year.

This year was his shot at glory, and he was sure he could win it for the team. But getting to play was a challenge. His team had many strong players, and it took a combination of convincing and luck to get his chance. Fortune favored him when their star player, Dhananjay Panday, twisted his ankle during practice, paving the way for his entry into the team for the all-important final. It was the day he had always dreamed of, the moment he had always fantasized about.

The game began, and both teams clashed with all their might. It was hard to tell who had the upper hand. However, the absence of their star player began to take its toll as the opposition started to gain a significant lead. Desperation and fear spread through his team, leading to mistakes and lost points. He saw the desperation in his captain - Dharma's eyes.

"Don't worry, skipper. I will not let you down," he said confidently as he made his way toward the opposition, where seven players waited like hungry wolves ready to devour a tiny rabbit. But he was unfazed and ready. With the skill and dexterity of a seasoned player, he tore through the opposition, leaving them stunned by the sheer demolition this ‘newcomer’ performed.

The round ended, and smiles returned to his team. Victory seemed within reach. Dharma, usually calm, eyed his rival captain with a hint of mockery. The opposition, on the other hand, seethed with rage. They knew they had to do something drastic to win. And so, they discarded the rules and waited for the newbie to raid again.

He was eager for his next chance. With the confidence of a raging bull, he stormed into the opposition camp once more. But this time, they were ready. A sudden movement to his left distracted him, providing the window the opposition needed. A player on the extreme right made a swift move and kicked his ankle with all his might. He fell like a house of cards, howling in excruciating pain. The opposition pounced on him like a pack of hyenas, biting and tearing at him.

At that moment, something strange happened. His soul left his body. For a moment, he couldn't fathom what was happening. He saw his physical body struggling to return to his side, pinned down by the opposition. But this was no longer the school ground; it was a vast field of brown and gray. He found himself amidst a sea of people dressed in ancient warrior outfits, fighting and killing each other. It looked like a war zone, brutal and blood-curdling. Everywhere he looked, there was chaos and a sea of red. He heard horror cries, whether of victory or death, he couldn't tell. Arrows flew into chests, flaming spears punctured lungs. Elephants trampled anyone in their path, while horses galloped, some carrying victorious men, others carrying slain riders. The gruesomeness of the scene was overwhelming.

A roar of laughter caught his attention. Right in front of him, he saw his own physical form dressed in shining armor and silken clothes, now stained with his blood. His body was riddled with cuts and arrows. Surrounded by enemy warriors, he was too wounded to fight but couldn't let go. With all his might, he tried to get up and grabbed the wheel of his destroyed chariot. He swung it at his enemies, but the move lacked strength. Someone kicked him from behind, and his last bit of energy gave way. He crumpled to the ground, knowing it was over. As his enemies continued to hack away at his almost lifeless body, he could no longer feel pain. He wished his father could see how brave he had been, longed for his mother's lap, and yearned for his wife's warm embrace. As his soul left his body, he let out a final roar of anguish, pain, and rage, shaking his enemies. Though they rejoiced in his downfall, they couldn't help but be in awe of the warrior who had hit them like a storm.

“Like father like son” they all thought alike!

Hovering above the scene, he watched with a mix of horror and fascination. What had he just witnessed? Before he could make sense of it, he felt himself getting sucked into an abyss of darkness. He felt immense pressure on his body and tasted the blood from his cut upper lip. He could smell the soil where his face was being pushed into. Slowly, the pressure was relieved, and he saw it. His outstretched arm touching the white line. They had won. He had won, singlehandedly. But the joy he had always anticipated didn't come. His mind was still on the battlefield he had just left. Questions flooded his mind like the arrows that had pierced the young warrior’s body.

“Where had I been? Who was that young man? Did he die? Why did he look like me? And above all, why did he share my name - Abhimanyu?”

Salon Salsa: The Final Cut

Once my professional life began I realised that few of my friends no longer visited the barber shop. They had started getting 'salon treatments'. Out of curiosity and a bit of peer pressure, I too visited one of the popular salons that had a rather French sounding name (not that I know French, just that I had never heard the name before. I doubt even the salon employees knew what it meant).

As I entered the salon, I was greeted by a receptionist, which made me think if I had entered a wrong place. Nope. The salon had a receptionist who asked if I had an appointment. I didn’t because no one told me I was making a sales call. And all I had to do in a barber shop was to wait for 10-15 minutes glancing through 5 year old issues of Filmfare or Cineblitz.

Anyway, the receptionist glanced through a diary to check if she could ‘accomodate’ me. I looked inside and there was no customer; just few employees in black and wearing an apron. The apron had pockets in which rested all of the barber's tools. Finally the receptionist smiled widely and motioned me to enter. The waiting employees immediately parted to guide me to a chair. One of the guys came up to me and asked “What would you like to do sir?”. I was disappointed. Because my local barber was more of a self starter. It didn’t matter what I wanted. He cut the hair as he pleased.

‘Just a normal hair cut’, I replied.

The stylist then proceeded to examine my hair. He grabbed a few strands with his fingers and made a face.

‘Sir did you wash your hair before you came?’

I hadn’t because I usually did that after a haircut. Apparently my hair was too greasy to cut and it would damage his scissors. So I had to get a hair wash which would cost extra. I nodded along as I didn’t want to come across as someone who rarely bathed. So I got my hair washed. And then the cutting began. For the first time I saw how hair could be cut in a sophisticated way. Heck he put clips all over my head. and my hair was not used to such pampering. Because at my barber place this is what usually happens.

Ok that is an exaggeration!

After he was done, he asked if I needed a head massage. I refused. He asked if I needed a shave. I refused. But he was quite adamant on giving a facial. Apparently my face was too dirty (and he said that in as many words) and in dire need of a facial. Out of curiosity I asked for the price. As soon as he quoted the figure I hurriedly got off the chair. Because I had not planned on selling a kidney for a facial. I walked towards the receptionist who handed me the bill. An astounding 650 rupees. That was worth a whole year of haircut at my barber shop. But she wasn’t done. She then tried to sell me a membership which would give me many benefits. I refused again, to which she gave me a 'saale gareeb' look and suggested that I make an appointment next time. The smile had vanished. And so did I.

So once the corona thing dies out, I will be back to the barber shop, happily waiting on the couch and glancing through 5 year old copies of Filmfare, and Femina too because my barber shop is now unisex. Till then I hope my hair growth slows down or something. Or hide the trimmer at least. My son has been looking for it and keeps looking at my hair with hatred. I get the feeling that he is planning something nasty.

The End!

Note: All images sourced from the internet

Salon Salsa: Part 2

So yes the Urban Company guy came and gave my head its sane look back. Nothing is more annoying than waking up in the morning and seeing your overgrown hair looking like this.

I guess that’s what being grown up is all about. You can no longer tolerate Ustad Zakir Hussain like hairdo on yourself. But it wasn’t always so. While growing up, I put my hair through a lot of trials and tribulations to look cool.

The first 18-19 years of my life I couldn’t do much because of my dad’s ‘my house my rules’ rule. Since he was the provider, he dictated how my hair looked; which is the case with almost all Indian families. 

If there was ever a template for an Indian hairstyle then this was it; find a partition and comb the hair on either side of it (like some sort of red sea parting but with hair). The hair on either side was always in an 80:20 ratio. And the partition was never to be crossed by any unruly hair. They were held in place by a spell called the Indian Hair Oil. Indian parents would apply a generous splash of oil (mostly home-made or parachute) and there it was. The look that gave rise to the term ‘champu’. But even hairs have rebels. There will always be a few strands at the upper end standing in defiance.

Likewise I too rebelled against my parents; and as always the rebellion was quashed by my dad. It was the 90s and a new hair style gathered rage among all guys. The 'Katora Cut' or 'Tapeli Cut'. It looked something like this. 

And like all things naive, I quickly believed that barbers would put a Katora on your head and fashion the cut. Hence the name. Well the barber didn’t do anything of that sort. If anything then he was overjoyed because he could now cut less hair for the same price.

I reached home hoping to live a normal life. But getting through the security check that was my dad was never easy. My father looked at me in silence. He was expressionless. He grabbed my head without affection and rotated it to get a better glimpse of the latest rage in Indian haircut industry. If his touch was any indication of how pissed he was, his eyebrows which converged downwards and formed a V confirmed it. But he didn’t say anything. He grabbed me by the arm and took me straight to the barber; no words were spoken between the 3 of us. The barber made me sit on the chair and proceeded to give me my regular cut. No way was my dad going to be robbed of money for a job half done.

But then came college. And with it came life in a hostel. It meant that I could experiment with all the cuts that the Indian haircut industry could possibly come up with. But this industry has one major flaw. It is trained to cut hair in very limited templates. It is similar to the hotel industry that caters to the middle class. The menu might say Continental and Italian. But the chef can only prepare ‘tandoori roti, butter paneer/veg kolhapuri (which I believe is a sham as all sabzis with veg as prefix are more or less the same), dal fry and jeera rice’.

I remember that I had come home for the weekend. I decided to get a haircut, and asked the barber to give me a crew cut because Lakshya had just released and Hrithik played an army guy, and girls loved Hrithik, and I for some reason believed that a similar haircut will also alter my face to resemble Hrithik’s. 

I remember that day clearly. I specifically asked that idiot if he knew how to give a crew cut. His confidence when he nodded in the positive could only mean that Hrithik came to him every month for his haircut. And the scissors snipped and snapped. The barber was lost in concentration. If he were to die the next instant, my head was to be his swan song. Given his seriousness, girls were going to line up to date me the moment I reached college. I paid him and walked home. 

God chooses the most embarrassing of ways to convey that you have messed up. When I reached home, one of mom’s friends was sitting on the couch. I greeted her. She responded as well. But she seemed to be intrigued by my presence. She didn’t smile but looked at me with concern. After I had freshened up and the lady had left, my mom came up to me and said,

“What the hell did you do to your hair?”

“It's the latest style”

“It's pathetic”

“You wouldn’t understand”

“Why do you always embarrass me in front of people. The lady asks me if you were sick or dying of some disease.”

That was a jolt. And as I looked in the mirror, I too started seeing what the lady meant. Instead of Hrithik, Tom Hanks from Philadelphia stared at me. 

The stupid cut received further validation when I reached the hostel on Monday. Thanks to some amazing roommates, I had to endure countless jokes and jibes till the hair grew back to normalcy. 

And I learnt a valuable lesson...Stick to the Template...Always Stick to the Template!

...to be contd

Note: All images sourced from google/internet

Boys to Men 5: Salon Salsa

If there was anything that the lockdown did (other than cause mayhem), then it was encourage people to pursue new (and at times life saving) hacks. So suddenly people were exploring new talents. Some were welcome while some should have remained incognito. 

Did you know that Microwave ovens could do more than just reheat food? Suddenly these machines were doing what they were actually meant for. Bread, cakes, cookies, they started making them all. 

Newfound painters started going beyond the traditional ‘house with the well by the hillside’ scenario and became adventurous in their imagination.

Poets lamented about 'how the mighty humans were humbled by a virus, and how man had become a prisoner in his own home'. 

For some sad souls their primary task became counting the number of lockdown days. Some of them seem to have lost track as they still put a hashtag in their posts which reads something like ‘#lockdowndiaries; #day127oflockdown’.

What also increased was the sale of yeast as well as google/ youtube searches on how to brew your own liquor. I for one have started seeing beetroot and pineapple in new light.

Those who lost their jobs due to the pandemic could now look at an alternate albeit dark career and fulfil the dream of becoming Vijay Mallya (when he was in India selling calendars).

Wives were the most overjoyed as husbands showed keenness in helping with the household chores. Incidentally, cases of domestic abuse also rose significantly.

My first task during the lockdown was to cut my son’s hair (coz screw hidden talent!). Since he is only 4 he couldn’t fathom the damage I had done with a scissor and trimmer. At the end of an arduous half hour (arduous for my son. For me it was Da Vinci at work) my son's head looked somewhat like this.

When he looked in the mirror, it took him some time to register that it was in fact him in the mirror. And if he could abuse he probably would have. Thankfully his school syllabus has just two letter words this year.

But what goes around comes around. It was my turn to get a haircut. As I looked around for volunteers, my wife’s enthusiasm and confidence caught me by surprise. She snatched the trimmer from my son’s hand who was looking at me menacingly. We made a makeshift apron from a newspaper (courtesy Javed Habib); and set up chair in the bathroom, because my son's episode had taught me that hair can be quite a bitch while cleaning up. The newspaper was from pre lockdown era. I call it the Good Times of India (I found it amusing when I first thought of this joke and just had to include it here).

The fully charged trimmer started buzzing. The absence of a proper sized mirror made it impossible for me to look at what was happening with my hair. But the occasional gasps of my wife told me that the situation was grave. After a couple of minutes my wife went unusually silent; the silence only broken by her soft apologies; and my groans as the scissor pulled at a bunch of hair hard. But I let her continue cause there was nothing else to do. My wife and I neither spoke nor looked at each other as we cleaned up the mess. 

That was two months ago. My hair has grown back. And today I have booked professional help from Urban Company.

...to be contd

Boys to Men –Part 4: The Many Uncomfortable Truths

Anyone who has travelled on trains will know that clean toilets are a privilege. My hostel lavatory was no less than that of a train’s.

My side of the hostel had 3 toilets... for 25 people. That number would rise exponentially during peak hours. Because if the toilets in your lobby were occupied, you could promptly check your luck in the other lobbies. You can imagine the massacre once everyone was done. Apparently, many people don’t really understand or follow toilet hygiene. They are ruthless, and often leave behind a trail of mindless destruction (quite literally). My hostel had many such monsters. And you could never tell by just looking at them. Such unassuming people, with deeds of a psychopath.

The only way you could have access to a somewhat cleaner toilet was if you woke up at the crack of dawn, before anyone else. So if you were used to going to the toilet at a specific time (you know for better performance), or needed that sip of tea to deliver the goods, you could very well forget all that. In a hostel, its mind over (faecal) matter.

Winters presented a new problem. Now the hostel authorities have a knack for assuming that guys in the hostel can survive hypothermia. Which probably is why our hostel didn’t have a water heating facility. Which made bathing a challenge. So we made the hostel authorities privy to our concern. Who like all responsible and proactive authorities calmly snubbed our request; their logic being that since we were young we should be treating the hardships as a lesson in life. So we avoided bathing altogether. Coz you know...rebels!

We did have a water cooler in our hostel though. It was the most basic of facilities and yet somehow we felt rich because of it. The fact that it was the only cooler for approx 200 guys didn’t reduce the richness in any way. Until one day the supply stopped. On enquiry we realised that during the last clean up, the worker had found a dead lizard in the tank. I don’t know what was more disgusting; that we didn’t have access to cleaner water, or that we had been consuming an exotic lizard cocktail. We realised something funny about the human body that day. As long as the mind isn’t aware of the contents of the food, the tummy would happily gobble and digest anything. But now that I was aware I needed to get out of this hostel which was plotting ways to kill its inmates through hypothermia and lizard laced water.

It was just the first month of my hostel life. And I was determined to get out of that place. Every other day, I would concoct horror stories to my dad, in the hopes that it would melt his heart and maybe put me in a private hostel which would have had much better facilities (read luxuries). So in high hopes I called my dad from a local pco. I narrated the lizard episode and also fake jaundiced a guy.

“Hmm...” he said. 

Any moment now, he would ask me to pack my bags and move to a private hostel. But his Hmm should have been my first clue. Any response that starts with a hmm...is never going to be in your favour.

“Don’t mess with your health. Buy those big cans of mineral water. So how are the classes going?” was all he said.

And you know at times you can hear background music in real life too. As I hung up, I realised a feeling of being abandoned. Being the rebel that I was, I meekly accepted the situation. 

Thankfully I had friends who were much better prepared to deal with the situation than I was.

To be contd...

Boys to Men –Part 3: The Many Uncomfortable Truths

Recently I stumbled upon a stand -up by Anubhav Bassi on hostel life where he narrates a day in the life of a guy living in a hostel. Hilarious as it was, it reminded me of my days in hostel as well. Anyone who has lived in hostel goes from phases of ‘pure disgust’ to ‘pure elation’.

The initial days at the hostel are nothing short of a nightmare. Having spent your early days in a comfortable and protected environment, shifting to a hostel can be a real shock. So it was for me. It was self service from the word go.

It was then that I realised that clothes do not magically wash themselves (not literally though. I knew moms did it, but they do it magically don’t they?).

I reached the hostel during the peak summer of June. Blessed with extra perspiration pores, my well ironed clothes quickly started smelling like a corpse. Not to be deterred, I took them all to the nearby laundry shop. Because that’s what rich people do right? When the clothes came back, my wallet was considerably lighter. So I did the next rich thing. I invested in a washing soap, and an annoying plastic scrub (the annoying bit comes second only to the ‘clawing on a blackboard’ sound). My roommate invested in a washing paddle (which doubled up as a cricket bat once we were done with the washing).

Pretty soon we realised that washing clothes required more patience than skill. And once the rains start, even skilful washing wont save you. Because those of you who have tried know that a half dry cloth smells like death.

So like every persevering/perspiring man, we too quickly gave up. We took refuge in talcum powder and deodorants. To all those people who are about to start hostel life, the following steps can be helpful on how to escape one week without washing.

Day 1: Wear clean shirt

Day 2: Wear it again if no considerable smell emanates (or if the person standing next to you isn’t staring at you in disgust. Or has fainted.)

Day 3: You would now be unable to bear the stench yourself. So lay the shirt out on the bed. And spread a liberal dose of talcum powder on it. Particularly around the armpit area. This should help you get through the day.

Day 4: Repeat step 3

Day 5 and 6: You must have now reached a point where even talc won’t work. In such a case, just wash the armpit and the neck area. And you are good to go.

Note: Unwashed socks are deadlier. So once you have worn them inside out as well, you must ensure to wash them once every three days. Same goes for the underwear. No one washes jeans anyway so no issues there. Jeans are genetically destined not to be washed. So that makes it a time saving garment. Invest in them. Or just borrow from fellow hostel mates. Because one thing that I noticed was that everyone in a hostel wears clothes that have a universal fit. So it doesn’t matter that the person from whom you borrow is fat or thin. If he has a wearable garment, it will fit.

Washing clothes is just one of the many problems that a guy faces in the hostel. But he surely overcomes them, one problem at a time.

To be contd...

Boys to Men--Part 2

Boys do not have a fixed definition of fun. But it has to be full of action. And I mean raging fires, exploding buildings, crashing planes type of action. So my kid’s idea of fun isn’t sitting quietly and playing with his building blocks. It is to make a big tower with those blocks, and then aiming his toy car at them to knock them down to the remotest corner of the sofa (which I will later have to sweep out myself).

One risky idea of fun happens in school (which am sure most of you have done at least once. most of guys at least, because girls are civil). And it involves impaling the one sitting in front of you with a compass. It all starts when a kid stands up from his seat for some reason. And the kid behind him produces a compass out of nowhere and places the pointed end of the compass on the seat, for no reason. He then patiently waits for the kid in front to sit on the pointy end. The sadism takes a turn for the worse when other boys nearby don’t prevent this from happening and in fact await the needle to pierce the buttocks of the poor lad.

As dangerous as it sounds, I have never heard of an incident where this prank took a turn for the worse. Its almost like a rite of passage. I’d really like to know about the origins of this prank. I mean which sick mind would look at a compass and think, “hey you know what, just for fun...let’s pierce some buttocks today”?

For me, one of the most annoying things in school used to be the MD (mass drill) period. My school used to start at 7.15 in the morning, and once a week all the students would march towards the school ground to spend the next hour and half dancing/exercising to the drill masters whistle (or a drum depending on how adventurous the instructor felt).

Everyone hated it. Including the drill master I believe. Back then and even now, I am unable to grasp at the utility of those physical movements. No one in my life has once come up to me and said “You remember the mass drills we did in the morning?  It changed my life.”

You also needed to show just the right amount of appreciation for the drills. You showed too much enthusiasm (or too less of it), and the instructor would make you lead the drills. Which meant that you had to do the exercises and the other kids would follow you. Now most of the kids just followed the kid in front. I mean no one really remembers the order of the exercise (or the exercise). You made a mistake and ‘smack’...out of nowhere the drill instructor appeared behind you and slap your buttocks into oblivion. He actually would appear out of nowhere. He would be at a far corner getting all cheery with my young science teacher, and the moment you messed up a movement he would magically appear right behind you to slap your behind (which is already sore with all the compass piercings).

The trick was to remain inconspicuous; just show the right amount of enthusiasm so that the DI would spare you. Morning drills were especially unpleasant in winters. In my school, only the higher secondary boys could wear pants. The rest of us had to wear shorts. And I am all for rules. But 8-9-10^th standards are when many embarrassing changes happen to our body; body hair being just one of the problems. While the torso is well protected in the chilly morning wind, the lower part is however quite unlucky. And its no fun to feel the wind creep up your leg. Not to mention morning wood. Imagine standing in front of everyone, students and teachers, in your shorts that often does little to hide your unwanted boner. You will quite literally be standing out.

At that age (and I guess even now) kids tend to get embarrassed easily. The other kids on their part will ensure that you stay embarrassed. They will never let you move on. Because the screw ups you do in school stay with you for life. Years later, when people meet on school groups on FB and Whatsapp, you will still be known as ‘that kid who screwed up’ in the group.

But that's the fun of school isn’t it? The fun, the ink pens (and the promotion to ball pens), the geometry sets, the mass drills, the crushes, the embarrassments, the failures, the conquests, the fistfights after school, the arm wrestling coz she is watching, the chalk projectiles, the one hand distance, the head downs, the finger on your lips, the standing out of class as punishment, the pride in carrying the books to the staff room, the tiffin cricket, the flames, the group photos towards the year end, the proposals, the occasional slaps, the few moments of glory, and many moments of insult, the jealousies, the contempt, the love, the hatred, the friendship days, the rakhi days, everything keeps adding a small layer to the personality that is the now you. In fact, I’d like to change my above statement. Remember those mass drills in school that we used to hate? They did change my life a bit!

Boys to Men- Part 1

So its been many days since I last ventured out of my home (I lost count after the lock down). So yes, the times are tense. The Corona pandemic has pushed us to fight for survival.

But this piece isn’t about Corona. We have had enough depression and fear for a lifetime. 

I grew up as a 90s kid, and for some weird reason still feel that 90s was 10 years ago. It was an exciting decade. We as a nation were just beginning to shed our inhibitions. Probably the most brazen moment of that decade was the song Choli ke Peeche from Khalnayak. It was 1993, and as it is with anything remotely raunchy, the people were scandalised. It was a different matter altogether that the song became their favourite in the sweet privacy of their homes.

Naturally, the song was very popular among us boys. From "tuney ‘wo' gaana dekha?" to humming ‘kukukuku...’ the song set our imaginations wild. As kids on the cusp of teenage, finally came a song which was asking all the right questions - What exactly lies behind the choli?

As it is with any educational institute’s toilet, my school too had its share of graffiti artists and vandals who would treat the toilet walls like their own personal canvas. From graphic sketches to cheeky one liners...the wall had space for everyone. And one of the walls finally had the answer to the question. It read: Choli ke peeche kya hai...choli ke peeche b*ll hai! ‘B*ll’ obviously being the metaphor for breasts for us at that tender yet furiously notorious age.

And some 25 years have passed between then and now...whenever Choli ke Peeche plays up, my mind immediately gives me the response. Choli ke Peeche b*ll hai!

Throughout the 90s there were many songs which made us go red in the face. not because we were scandalised. But because back then, watching TV was a joint endeavour. there was no concept of 'me time' where one family member could hog the TV alone. so whatever was dished out on the TV was meant to be watched at the viewer's discretion. So yes, I have watched the opening scene of Aaj Phir Tumpe Pyar Aaya Hai from Dayavaan and watched Govinda and Karishma Kapoor dance suggestively to Sarkailiyo Khatiya...with my parents. 

The tricky part lay with the person holding the remote - that of smoothly changing the channel. While dads could get away with it (coz mah house mah rulez), we had to be very subtle. Changing immediately would mean that we knew what the song meant, and that we were no longer the innocent ,cherubic apples of their eyes. Suddenly they would get their eureka moment on why we were spending more time in the bathroom.

Which brings me to the next Boys to Men phase...Porn!

But thats later.

(to be contd...)

*Honourable mention: 

Aanchal ke andar kya hai

Aanchal ke andar Choli

Choli ke andar kya hai

Batau...Batau?

Choli main....tabahi hai tabahi tabahi

Duhayi hai duhayi duhayi...

...from Khalnayika

After Life: Just What the World Needs

To be honest I didn’t expect Ricky Gervais to make such a compelling web series. Ricky Gervais is probably one of the most intelligent celebrities I have seen. He is unapologetically honest in his opinions, and his stand ups are outright offensive and disgustingly brilliant (only he could imagine his sagging testicles like a raft on which his penis rests). He has also hosted the Golden Globe awards multiple times (much to the chagrin of the celebs in attendance). You can’t really blame the celebs for hating him when he introduces Bruce Willis as ‘Ashton Kutcher’s dad’.

But After Life is different. Of course it does have his caustic humour in generous amount. It however shows a very mature, human and intellectual aspect of Ricky Gervais both as the writer/director as well as the actor.

After Life tells the tale of Tony played by Ricky Gervais who is grieving the death of his wife due to cancer. She has recorded videos of herself telling him to move on when she is gone. Her absence sends Tony in a spiral of hurt and anger, and many times finds him close to killing himself. He hates the world which he feels is full of ‘arseholes’. He doesn’t waste time in pleasing anyone, and hates people for the flimsiest reason (someone yawning or chewing too loudly). He chides a postman who often reads his mail, in the most savage way possible.

Other moments include him threatening a kid with a hammer or calling him to a ‘tubby little ginger cunt’. He works for a small time newspaper and where primarily he interviews people who feel they have something special in them (like interviewing the parents of a newborn who resembles Adolf Hitler).

The only thing that stops Tony from dying is a bunch of friends who never give up on him despite being tired of his inability to look beyond his grief and being horrible to everyone around him.

Despite being only 6 episodes in length, After Life is probably the perfect antidote to the usual fare that is available on TV or the Web (seriously I have had enough of ISIS-Balochistan-ISI mess). This is one show which genuinely makes you laugh and cry in equal measure. Probably cry more because Ricky Gervais brilliantly portrays the pained soul of Tony. Tony is a mix of all our frustrations and hurt. Everything and everyone annoys him. Which is the case with all of us at some point in life. Or most of life for some. But sooner or later, we do manage to realise that everything and everyone eventually becomes a memory. And it is important to cherish them while they last.

Cheers to the makers of After Life. And cheers again because there is going to be a second season.

(*above images sourced from Ricky Gervais' instagram)

How Endgame Made 3000 A New Measure For Awesomeness! (Spoilers galore)

And there it is. A plan set in motion 11 years ago, spanning 22 films and many superheroes, finally culminated into an epic finale with Avengers Endgame.

Just like any ardent MCU movie fan, i cant help but feel emotional at the conclusion. While I felt that the one year wait for endgame was torture at the highest, now that its here and I have watched it, I feel a void.

One has to appreciate the MCU and all those behind these movies. Jon Favreau started it all with the brilliant Iron Man. And he gave us one of the greatest superheroes of all time; Robert Downey Jr. If Tony Stark had a face then it had to be RDJ. I think Stan Lee created Tony Stark in 1963 keeping RDJ in mind. Maybe time travel does exist.

Which brings me to the Russo brothers. Endgame is an epic. The creative brilliance of their minds has somehow managed to create the finale which honestly I felt was impossible. The scale, the merging plot lines, the characters, and eventually the conclusion, in the time frame of 3 hours is just phenomenal. For me they are the real superheroes. They had me and a hundred others in the audience hooting and clapping like 12 year olds.

I have no qualms in admitting, that we can never reach that level of brilliance in Indian cinema. We will continue making SOTY and Kalank. Don't even mention Bhavesh Joshi. That movie sucked. A useless protagonist with a stick as weapon and LEDs needlessly placed in his helmet. That movie could have been so much more. And yet wasn’t.

Back to Endgame. A few dampers. We would have loved some more info on Prof Hulk. Sadly, Hulk never really found his mojo since the first Avenger movie. The following movies didn’t really give him enough ‘Hulk...Smash’ moments. And I definitely didn’t like the fat Thor. C’mon man, he deserved another ‘Bring me Thanos’ moment. Chris Hemsworth will always be Thor for me – the strongest Avenger.

But the character to whom most justice was done was Thanos. In Infinity War, I felt that Thanos was invincible on paper, and somehow the character didn’t feel as dangerous as he was made out to be. Towards the end, you would want to see some goodness in him especially at his hurt for Gamora. But in Endgame you realise just how badass the character is as he single-handedly kicks all the superhero ass, and almost kills everyone. Take a bow Josh Brolin. When Thanos says that this time earth’s destruction will be personal, it had me worried.

And I feel so happy that Antman was responsible for the whole time travel/quantum realm thing. Its only natural that Paul Rudd should know a thing or two about time travel in real life too. He has refused to age since appearing as Mike on friends. Thats the only plausible explanation.

And the Mjolnir scene. Thats another brilliant moment in the movie. All of us have read at some point that Cap is worthy enough to lift Mjolnir and even does so in the comics. But when that scene came on screen, I literally got up from my chair and hooted my lungs off. That scene alone was more than my money’s worth. Oh and his line ‘Avengers....Assemble’! Goosebumps!

Captain Marvel and her screen time, though limited, give us a fair idea on how powerful her character is. She almost single-handedly decimates Thanos and his army (besides saving Stark among other things). I really hope that future Captain Marvel movies will do justice to the character and Brie Larson too. That hairstyle is just out of this world.

I felt the Ronin bit was unnecessary. It did nothing for the character of Barton in the film. But Renner gets his due as well. We also get to see the actor side of Renner as he chokes up on receiving the phone call from his wife.

Which finally brings me to Tony Stark/Iron Man/Robert Downey Jr. Captain America might be the leader of the group, but we all know who rules the team. The MCU has given countless and rather obvious hints to this fact in the last 11 years. Tony and his father Howard remain the vital catalysts in making the events of Endgame possible. I mean, when the audience roots for Iron Man in Captain America: Civil War, you know who is the boss. Oh and the Jarvis bit was awesome.

I would have loved to see some more awesomeness in Iron Man’s suit but I can live with that. What I can’t live with is the fact that Tony dies. Why him? You could have picked out any other superhero and I wouldn’t have batted an eyelid (ok maybe not Thor or Spiderman). Bucky for that matter. I was not ready!

But the harsh truth is that the series has concluded. We will no longer see RDJ, Chris Evans, Chris Hemsworth, Mark Ruffalo, Jeremy Renner and Scarlet together.

Thank you Stan Lee and Marvel. The pleasure was entirely ours. Excelsior! 

And when GOT ends in a month, I will absolutely lose it.

And just like that...the Game ends! 

*All images sourced from the Internet

Baaghi-A Review

I have seen Baaghi (with Tiger Shroff) 4 times. And not due to any kind of fondness. I travel frequently to Baroda and during this one particular period Baaghi was a regular feature on the bus which I would board. And apparently Baaghi is a favourite with the audience.

One of the earliest scenes is the one where Tiger Shroff...sorry I can't call him that...it is too embarrassing. Lets just call him hero. So the scene is where hero meets Shraddha Kapoor. And she can talk with the rain. And she gets all orgasmic when it rains. Which after some time is pointed out by hero too. He asks her if she has no other work besides getting wet. 

Shraddha Kapoor is beautiful. But that doesn’t make me not want to punch her. She is like a human bubble wrap. Perennially bubbly. And watching her makes me want to do just what i would do with a bubble wrap.

Sunil Grover plays her dad. If there was ever an Oscar for the worst casting them it would go to him. No, I am wrong. It would go to the cast of Jaani Dushman (the newer one).

Then Shraddha Kapoor loses her shit when it starts to rain. And 'chham chham chham' befalls. The villain sees her dancing and instantly wants to strangle her because she is flirting with the rain. But someone stops him in the neck of time and he goes away with his goons.

Hero reaches the martial arts guru’s ashram. He for some reason is standing in this pose in front of his students (one of whom is the TVF guy). Now this pose, for starters,...what could possibly be its utility in a fight? I for one can think of many ways to floor him if he is standing in that vulnerable position in front of me. or is he just trying to show off in front of the TVF guy that he can really stretch it when needed? Or maybe fart and convey how deadly it is at the same time?

Equally baffling is this pose. 

It is hero’s introductory scene. As cool as it looks, it is equally impossible. I have no doubts on hero’s martial abilities. But this is the same guy who underwent a harrowing experience while preparing for Baaghi 2. He had a haircut! Below is the link for more proof.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sw018TePayo

After seeing the video all I wanted to ask him was, ‘bhai tuje bolte huye sharam bhi nai aai?’.

Anyways, hero gives Guru a letter from his father, whose voiceover from the letter says that by the time Guru finds the letter he would be dead as he is very sick. And hero stands there giving zero fucks, and throwing random kicks at the students for no rhyme and reason. Which hints at some sort of learning disability in him as he fails to comprehend the number 68 which also happens to be Guru’s age.

Then we are introduced to this mute kid, who completely destroys our empathy towards him by constantly using ‘ya ya’ to answer anything.

Then a lot of crap happens in between. Finally hero reaches Bangkok to rescue Shraddha Kapoor. And then Raid Redemption happens for the next half hour. Hero kills many fighters including this guy. 

Seriously, the guy on that hair. The best line in the movie is reserved for this guy. As hero breaks his arm he looks into the camera and says “china ka maal zyada chalta nai”. And we complain that the Chinese are hostile towards Indians.

And the movie ends. There couldn’t be a bigger homage to raid redemption than Baaghi. Just like we paid homage to matrix in Awara Pagal Deewana!

Oh and this sucks....

Note: all pics and links sourced from the internet

News This Week

Padmavati ban will benefit economy with double figure growth; unemployed section of society rejoice.

Finally, a good piece of news for the Indian population which is already reeling under the dual jolt of demonetization and GST. Close on the heels of an ex CM, a ruling party too voiced its concerns against the release of Padmavati; the concern being sentiments of certain communities being hurt. 

The ex CM has already issued threats of a violent protest. As a great gesture of goodwill and harmony, he has also apologised in advance for the trouble the protest will cause.

The move is indeed a master stroke and aims to revive an ailing economy. A senior leader who ‘shall- not- be- named’ was of the belief that ‘this ban will create employment opportunities for many out –of- work, good- for- nothing HNIs (High Nuisance Individuals).’

It truly is heartening to see political parties so concerned about salvaging the cultural heritage of India. The approach is fresh and is aimed at addressing genuine issues (unlike the often inflated ones like poverty and corruption).

It really is heartening to see people challenging evolution!

Every College Ever: Part 1

It's been 12 years since college. But it seems like yesterday. Now when I pass by any college campus and look at the kids there, I feel...nostalgic yes, but more than that I feel really old.

Every college that I have ever come across has some very common scenes and people. To start with everyone feels that their college life was the best. But certain characters and situations remain permanent.

The Guitarist: Every college campus has this one musician guy. And mostly his weapon of choice would be the guitar. There was this musician guy in my college. Every day for three years, he would roam around the campus with a guitar hanging on his shoulder. Everyday. And he fit the image of the quintessential college musician to the T. So the guitarist is casually dressed, a sexy leather or denim jacket to give him that bohemian look. I mean when have you ever seen a guy wearing formals and also play the guitar? They are two separate species altogether. The one wearing the formals is what scientists term as talentless! Who wears formals in college anyway? The musician has long hair, obviously. And did I mention that he is generally a heartthrob? Girls are ready to tear his clothes (and theirs too) when they hear him play. Guys obviously hate him. But you can’t beat up a guy just cause he plays the guitar. Or can you?

Rebels without a cause: Then there is a group of students that is perpetually outside the college. They are the bad guys. Wronged by the system. Always eager for a fight, these guys get offended at the drop of a hat. My college too had such a group. It was the time when Tere Naam was released. And suddenly everyone in the group was a self proclaimed Radhe, a goon with the heart of gold. Most of them were assholes of the highest order though. Then there was this guy who was nicknamed Sathiya/Vivek Oberoi. Reason? He had hair like Vivek Oberoi. But the similarity ended there. Not for him though. He was so used to people calling him Vivek Oberoi that eventually he believed that he was Oberoi's first cousin. He even ended up buying that Avenger type bike which Oberoi drives in Dum. And it was funny cause he was a little over 5 feet tall. And looked like a mouse.

The college bitches: This tag is reserved for two of the hottest girls in the college. And they are usually friends with each other. More than the sharing of interests, the real reason for them being together is their insecurity. Because they believe that the other person is the only real threat to her popularity; so they end up befriending each other. That’s like symbiosis at a human level. What also is true is the fact that they will become sworn enemies as the college nears its term.

The born couples: In college, some friendships are forged from the word go. And when its between a boy and a girl, tongues do tend to wag (coz duh ,ek ladka aur ladki kabhi dost nahi ho sakte right?). They will always be together; always laughing away seemingly awkward questions about their relation with elan. Of course who would believe them? Seeing them together out of college would be like sighting a tiger. You would be really lucky to see one, but everyone manages to catch a glimpse nevertheless. This ‘çouple’ would also be accompanied by a third friend, usually a girl. She is part of the group because she is a stabiliser. The couple would be like, ‘we are a group of good friends’. The girl would be like ‘no i am more like the pickle in a buffet. Very much needed, but no one would miss me either’. And yes, the pair will not tolerate deviating interests of each other. There will come a time when the couple won’t be talking to each other because of his or her’s alleged closeness with another person of the opposite sex.

The chick magnet: This is self explanatory. He is the college stud. Every guy hates him. Every girl wants to cut her veins for him. He is usually friends with the guitarist, so their synergy is so great that by the third year there isn’t a lot of hope left for lesser mortals to have a girlfriend. And as usual you can’t beat both of them up cause the stud is well built. Or can you? Few years ago I bumped into the college stud from my batch. He had undergone a drastic change. He was fat, and balding. It was difficult to imagine him that way. I felt a little sad, and a lot happier.

Youth Festival: Without doubt the most happening event of the year. This event sees aggressive participation from students because it is one time in the entire year when you can officially bunk lectures. When questioned on his or her absence, the student in question will reply in the most sincere yet proud manner, “sir for youth festival...”, almost as if he or she had fought in kargil.

The Annual Day/Talent Evening: The only fun thing the college authorities allow every year. This day is anxiously awaited because it is like an unofficial end to the academic year. So the evening begins with a female student dressed in saree hosting the show. She will begin by thanking the ‘honourable principal sir’, and respected professors who are sitting in the front row, for being the guiding light. She will then recite a poem which is usually written by the college poet who for most part of college life remains in obscurity. Then she invites the ‘honourable principal sir’ on stage, who will then take 20 minutes out of your life with the new photocopy of last year’s speech. And of course then there is the mandatory ‘lighting of the lamp’ by some big shot of the university, mostly the Vice Chancellor. And he then goes on to prove how the lamp and its light symbolises all the racist things in the world.

And then the evening begins. And as all good things begin with a prayer, the annual day too begins on a holy note. Three girls sharing one mike will sing a popular bhajan. If the college is upscale, then you will also have two guys with the girls; one playing the harmonium, and the other playing tabla. The audience by then realises that one hour of the allotted two and a half hours is already over.

Once the aesthetics are over, the actual fun begins. The female anchor is joined by a guy, in a blazer. He is the fun element. He takes over from the female and ensures that the audience is still alive. So he will repeat the question ‘are you guys ready for some fun?’, because the first time no one has heard it. And like obedient children, the audience too will respond with a loud ‘ýes’. And then the usual routine begins. Skits, dance, mimicry, some more dance, singing. Before you know it, the evening ends. And a sad realisation engulfs you. The year is about to end.   

...to be contd

Of Snakes And The Ailing TV!

If there is one thing that stands in the way of Darwin’s theory of evolution, then it has to be without doubt the Indian TV industry. Why it continues to churn out crap day in and day out is something my mind cannot comprehend. Just don’t watch them, some would argue. But that’s not the point. Its like saying ‘i don’t indulge in corruption, so I might as well choose to ignore it’.

I am reasonably asocial. Which means that if I have a computer and decent internet speed my life is golden. On a lazy weekend all I do is lie on my bed with the laptop in front of me which churns out episodes of The Big Bang Theory, Friends, Family Guy, AIB videos, horror movies, etc one after the other. I am yet to get my hands on GOT and Breaking Bad. So I am ok watching reruns of these episodes with the greatest pleasure. It’s not that I like watching these shows and movies only on my laptop. I too enjoy the clarity and sound of my new 32 inch Samsung LED TV. But what is the point of watching these movies and shows when the channel plays moral police and beeps out dialogues and deletes scenes which they believe we may find offensive. When will these censor boards quit deciding what is good for us and what isn’t?

The last time mythologies were in vogue was way back in ’87 – ’88 era when BR Chopra’s Mahabharat and Ramanand Sagar’s Ramayan were on air. Mahabharat was actually lot cooler than the crap made thereafter. Since then, the TV channels have never let go of their fixation with mythologies. So we have serials on Shanidev, Krishna, Hanuman, not to mention the umpteen screwed up versions of Ramayana and Mahabharat, and the list is endless. How many times must one watch the same story told again and again? Is it going to be any different from the earlier attempts? Is Lord Ram not going to rescue Sita for a change? Will Hanuman get bored of being mocked around for carrying the mountain and actually just bring the goddamn herb for a change? Is Lord Krishna during his sermon to Arjun going to say, “Dude, I rode you all the way to this battlefield to watch you kick some serious Kaurava ass, not to whimper like a sissy. Now kill these irritating relatives of yours. Oh Satya and Dharma btw.” Well to be honest that was kinda the crux of Geeta Updesh. 

All these shows go on to prove just one thing. The writers lack imagination.

And what the fuck is the deal with Naagin 2? I mean was there a season 1 too? Granted Mouni Roy makes a really convincing snake. But this is 2017 for heaven’s snake. The only time I saw a movie on shape shifting snakes was in 1990. My dad had recently bought a VCR and the first cassette we rented was Nagina. But that was that. I also skipped watching the masterpiece ‘Matrix ka Jaani Dushman’ starring Armaan Kohli and half of bollywood. I regret it till date. My love for snakes was further enhanced when I accidentally bumped into this sssymphony performed by critters. I shit you not. This was an actual movie in which a whole bunch of cobras play all sorts of classical instruments. So one snake plays the flute, one plays the sitar, and if I remember well, one also played the dhol. I mean that is amazing bit of animal training. The most I could get my pet Lab to do was sit when I told him to. Thats the clip right there. Actually its the full movie. Try skipping to 1:58:41.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JkmTvuDaGgk

Oh and for all those people who swear by Tarak Mehta’s Ooltah Chashma and its clean humour, you can all go and pleasure yourselves. Of course, most of the male population endures this crap fest because of that Babita chick. The treatment couldn’t get any worse. I am not even starting on the content. So I had a mishap once and happened to catch one episode of this serial. One character says a dialogue, then the camera pans to all the other characters and captures their reaction. Then there is a commercial break. Two minutes later, the show resumes where some other character responds to the first character. The fucking camera again pans to all the characters and captures their reaction, again. And then there is a break...AGAIN! To the makers I say ‘**** YOU SIRS’. That’s my tribute to the channels that beep the subtitles too.

Honestly, I don’t know much about the other shows because I couldn’t care less. But I am super confident and know how content driven the other shows would be. The bug seems to have bitten Discovery Channel too it seems. One of their shows is called Naked and Afraid. The content as described by Wikipedia is ‘Each episode chronicles the lives of two survivalists (1 woman; 1 man) who meet for the first time and are given the task of surviving a stay in the wilderness naked for 21 days.’ Seriously?

I recently saw on TV a scene from the Govinda starrer Hathkadi. And this is an actual scene from the movie. The actress Madhu comes out of her house and sees her rooster out of its cage. She runs around to catch it. Govinda who is passing by in an atrocious attire sees her and the very next moment they break out into a song. And there is a bicycle in the song too. I understand that its a movie and its ok to let imaginations fly around a bit. But at least imagine! And Flying Jatt? Who the names a movie thus?

People who do watch these shows and films have often criticised me and called me a pseudo intellectual. Look, I honestly don’t have a problem with them watching these shows and films. I have a problem with the makers of such shows taking the audience for fools and not even making a minimal effort to work on the content. Yes the audience needs to evolve no doubt. I remember a time when MTV was awesome. Now when I accidentally watch the channel while surfing, I instantly realise that something is seriously wrong with the audience, and the channels are simply exploiting this ignorance. And that Harbhajan Singh plays judge on Roadies. And to think that I almost forgave him for marrying Geeta Basra.

And yes I have written a similar post couple of years ago which probably might make you think that probably I have run out of content as well. But did u notice the subtle branding I did for Samsung LED TV? Now that’s marketing ;)