And the award goes to...

A man who lost his father early in life and had to drop out of school to take care of his family. A genius who grabbed an opportunity when it presented itself, and lifted himself to divine heights from there. A pioneer who dared to innovate and who had already been hailed as a maestro by millions. He goes on to win for what many claim is not his best work, but none grudge his victory. In fact, much like Gandhi and the Nobel Peace prize, for me the Oscar would have been poorer, and not Rahman, if it hadn’t been given to him. A man who exemplifies one of life’s oldest cliches: “Hard work pays.” And shows that man makes his own destiny.

A man who made his debut in the late 70s and is still going strong, romancing heroines his daughter’s age. A man, whom I always stereotyped as the ‘re-make hero’ (think Woh Saat Din, Viraasat, Judaai, Biwi No.1, Nayak just to name a few top of the mind recalls...). A man who gave us an iconic Mr. India but has mostly been overshadowed by more successful peers all through his career. A stable bankable hero maybe, seldom a superstar. I am more interested to know whether Aamir will decide to boycott Oscars now that Anil Kapoor has ‘Beta’ed him here too?

A man who is recognized by many to be a fine actor, but one who cannot draw in the masses come Friday night. Saddled with what the producers call ‘unconventional looks’, they would not bet a hundred crore film on him, like they do with much less talented but better looking ‘six-pack superstars’. Irffan Khan went international when ‘working with Hollywood’ wasn’t the buzzword yet. As they say, “Life is not a sprint, it is a marathon; and in the end, the race is only with yourself.”

A struggling model who hosted a TV show that I hadn’t even heard of. And now, is rumoured to be signing a film with Woody Allen. And as fame catches up with her, stories of a hidden marriage crop up. And already, gossip mongers have accused her of using and dumping her man. I will not sit here and pass moral judgment, but I am interested to see how she handles the fame and the accompanying intrusions of privacy. “Every rose comes with its thorn”, they say.

A talented child actor who did a very decent job in a small role in an earlier film, only to be overshadowed by a more brilliant portrayal of a dyslexic by another kid. I am curious as to how he felt when Darsheel walked away with all the accolades while he was hardly noticed. Did Tanay Chheda say to himself, “my time will come, let me do my work as best as I can.” Or did he experience pangs of envy, very natural at such an age. While he did have his moment of fame in Slumdog, he is again overshadowed by a younger, more bubbly version of his character, and also by the elder more marketable face of the same character. Does destiny condemn some people to be always in the shadow of more presentable peers?

A kid from the slum. Picked out of obscurity and placed on a global platform. With a TB-stricken father who’s accused of fighting with the producers for more money and benefits. The kid has an educational trust fund and has started going to school. A story which shows that sometimes, destiny makes a man too. Will his life turn for the better? Will he be the lucky ‘one in a million’ who gets to climb out of crippling poverty? Or will his story be forgotten a year down the line when all this hype has died down?

Another kid with a family where her mother and her father’s current wife go to blows claiming rights over her. The old saying goes, “Success has many fathers, failure is an orphan.” In this case, many mothers.

Critics say Slumdog Millionaire is a film which rides on many cliches and stereotypes. However, the real stories of some of the people associated with it have more cliches than the film itself.

For a moment, let me park aside my cynicism about the film winning multiple awards just when Hollywood studios are looking to enter Indian markets in a big way. For a moment, let me also skim over the useless debate of whether this is an Indian film, British film or an American film.

For once, I elect to ignore the fact that I didn’t personally like the movie much; and give a standing ovation to the real life stories of its cast and crew, being played out in the greatest theatre ever, the one that we choose to call ‘Life’.

Silly 6

In the midst of all the PJs and the rhymes, I forgot one of the main reasons why I started this blog. No, not to become world famous and get a million dollar book deal. Honest.

I started the blog so that I can rant to my heart’s content!

The week’s been bad. Work has been kinda hectic. A bad cold on top of that. Perfect time to behave like the Nilgiri Blue Mountain Express (i.e. let out some steam!). Or to inhale some with Vicks in it.
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ONE

I get pissed off with people who demand that the world to bow to their every whim and fancy. You know, the tribe that exudes a sense of being entitled. Now, don’t you ask me why. I am entitled to my opinion!
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TWO

I get pissed off with anyone who acts superior. (Except the boss. Bosses not only act superior but they are entitled to do so!). I mean, being grounded is not a bad thing. Unless you are a fat Indian Airlines air-hostess. In which case, time to go to court, aunty.
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THREE

I get pissed off with people who parrot inanities like ‘adversity toughens people’. It does not. Walking 6 km to school may at the most make you physically fit. (and that too, provided you get some food in your system). I feel it is a big conspiracy by the rich and the middle class to romanticize poverty through the ‘rags to riches’ stories, so that the poor don’t protest about people walking around with a sense of entitlement and acting superior. Heck, I’ll rant about this in another more detailed post.
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FOUR

I get pissed off with a certain smart alec politician constantly harping about ‘change’ and ‘moving forward’. For one, you remind me of the BEST conductor who yells ‘pudhe chala’ and ‘sutte paise dya’ at me every morning. And two, 787 billion dollars is not change, it is big big bucks. Khuda kasam, take out a billion and it still remains a divine number. And while we are at it, let me also sneak in a pathetic PJ about a guy who dressed up as a 1-rupee coin at a fancy dress party. Apparently, a famous leader had remarked, “Be the change you want to be...”
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FIVE

I get pissed off with lawyers. I don’t know which fancy school your superior parents put you in, that you feel entitled to express (or imply) shock that I don’t know what ‘mutatis mutandis’ means. From where I come from, they teach plain English. The kind which ToI writes and wins a prize for. And prima facie, I (hereinafter referred to as “the writer”) wish to make it clear that 'inter alia', 'thereunder', 'pursuant to clause 12' etc are not plain English. And I feel no guilt whatsoever in not knowing what ‘mens rea’ means. Except that it anagrams to the name of a gang of no hopers who incidentally express no mens rea while thrashing up random people for visiting pubs. Ok, let me change the topic and move forward.
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SIX

I get pissed off with telemarketers. Who doesn’t. I know I shouldn’t act superior and make fun of people’s adversity. But today’s call took the cake!
A lady calls me and says, “kya main aapse do minute baat kar sakti hoon?”
Me: “I’m busy, please call later.”
Lady: “accha sir, aapka naam kya hai?”
Me (thinking, oh the call is truly random?): “I told you I am busy!” (irritated tone)
Lady: “Accha, Mr. Busy, aapke paas credit card hai?”
Me: ?????
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PS1: Apologies to anyone who might have mistaken the title of the post for a sarci take on the name of a similar sounding movie. Am yet to watch it. Btw, did I mention that I also get pissed with star kids who feel entitled to their place in Bollywood on the basis of their surname, but act inferior, yet face no adversity, thereby encouraging that nothing changes and the industry doesn't move forward.

PS2: The above PS doesn't apply to Sonam Kapoor. Everything is forgiven, if you look pretty.

Vadakai aiyaayiram!

This is a Tam-specific post. Apologies to non-Tam people.

Actually, considering the content of the post, apologies to the Tam guys. Atleast, the others escaped the nonsense.

Anyways, considering that I am in a lyrical mood nowadays (the last 2 posts have been rhymes), I decided to extend my repertoire to include filmi songs as well... and since the last time I wrote a song was in Hindi, I decided that I should honour my mother tongue for once...

Anyways, without wasting any more time of yours, here I present:
*slow build up of rhythmic drumming*

Am sure you guys can guess the tune and the song...

Veetukkul paeithidum maamazhai
Neerukkul mulkidum yen arai
Satrendru peruthu veetu koorai
Sevurae un mel kuzhai… hoohoo

Jennallil veesidum peralai
Vasallil odidum sakadai
Veetukaran kekuran vadagai
Avanukku rendu othai...

...
Mumbaiyil veedu endraal, vilai yeri poghatho?
Naan sellum vazhiyellam, panni kutti vaaratho?
Ennodu vaa, veedu varaikkum
En veetai paar, mandai vedikkum!

Thank You, Thank You!!!

I know I am no Surya with a guitar, but then, in my defence, there was no Sameera Reddy in front of me as well!!!

I still hate V-day

"Women like guys who make them laugh."
If you think about it for a moment, the above line is actually a very good joke. On guys like me.
Ok, some of you may argue that PJs don't actually make you laugh. Sigh, the truth always sucks.

"Women like poetry, especially that which is dedicated to them".
Again, I am not claiming that the lamericks below are poetry. That would be stretching poetic license a bit too much. Neither are they dedicated to women. But why are we nitpicking? We aren't lawyers after all.

Anyways, it is V-day, and while people are fighting over culture or the lack of it in celebrating the same, there are some losers like me who are still searching. (Aside: It doesn't matter whether you are pub-going or not, forward or backward, loose or tight. If at all you send me a pink thingy, I want you to come in it. Pun intended.)

Anyways, V-day is an excuse to whine and wallow in self-pity, and come up with some horrendously banal verse.

So, here goes...

One year ago, I whined on V-Day;
and now I have come back to say
that, forget about wooing a lovely gal,
thanks to the depressing times, dear pal,
am more worried about a cut in my pay!

“Oh my God, look at that lovely lass”
"I just luvvv the way she moves her ass!”
Ah, those days of nudge nudge wink wink,
damn f**k, these days, all I can think
is “What’s happening to RIL's KG Gas?”

There was a time when girls we used to rate,
now, we just worry about our appraisal fate!
Where have they gone, those carefree days?
Only to be replaced by (sob) some stupid KRAs;
Is this what they call the sawaal of the paapi pet?

To be frank, most girls may not really like
a poor guy who can’t even afford a bike;
thanks to those greedy buggers of Wall St.
Bankers are as desirable as rotten meat;
No bonus, not even a measly pay hike!

So, lovely ladies, this lamerick is a dedication
since you are every lovesick guy’s medication,
I know, the above lines were extremely corny
and no, I didn’t mean anything remotely horny!
As it is against the culture of this great nation!!!
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Protecting Indian Culture

I have formed a Sene (pronounced Say-Nay, because we say nay to any change in tradition). Members of our army are going through the list of 33 crore names to see which one we can use for our outfit. We need something unique, yet easy to remember. All the top names like Shiv and Sri Ram are already taken. And we all know Brahma was a wimp who lied, and was cursed not to be worshipped.

We plan to go to each and every Udipi and beat up people who eat dosa/idli with spoon and fork. Eating with spoons/forks is definitely not part of Indian culture. It represents blatant westernization, which cannot be allowed to corrupt the age-old practice of using your hands.

Besides, majority of these western culture worshipping apes do not know how to hold a spoon or fork. They use the fork to jab the food. Our ancient text says food is Sri Lakshmi Devi herself. Some of us call her Annapoorneshwari, but then the news anchor told us unpronounceable names are bad for TRPs. And we all know how important it is for cameras to follow us when we thrash people. Out of sight, out of fight. Anyways, coming back to the point, we can’t allow people to jab our Goddess with a pointed instrument.

Don't you dare accusing us of being uneducated loafers. We remember our school teachers telling us that ‘spoon feeding’ is bad. It discourages original thinking. Our ancient seers who wrote the Rig Veda, they were original thinkers because they used their hands. All western civilization copied our texts because they were spoon-fed idiots.

I can already envisage some of you arguing that spoons/forks are cleaner. Heck, you guys don’t trust your own hands, but you trust a spoon which has been used by some strange people (of other religions and lower castes, shudder!). Don’t give us that crap about spoons being sterilized. We will dunk your hand in boiling water, you depraved-slave-of-western-society.

While we are at it, let us also make it clear that you can use only your right hand to touch food. Don’t dare using the impure left hand to even hold your plate. No, not even at buffets. They are also western culture, you idiot. What, you claim you were born a leftie? Heck, some people claim they were born homosexual, but that doesn’t mean we allow it. We can’t allow perversion of Indian culture.

So next time you enter an Udipi restaurant, and pick up that fork to jab your onion utthapam, beware. I, or my followers, might just thrash you for betraying ancient Indian culture.

We even have a slogan "Apna haath jagannath"!