Ghajini

Whatever the title is supposed to mean I mistook it for one of the many names of Lord Ganesha. I have somewhat watched the Tamil original (Telugu dubbed) but not the Hollywood original Memento. Aamir Khan as Sanjay Singhania, Chairman of Airvoice is convincing as much as the revenge thirsty short term memory loss patient. They say one should never argue about/against the script and narrative. I beg to differ but yes, the story was rife with loopholes.

First things first, Asin’s bubbly girl act is (yawn) de ja vu. She is not vivacious but loud and animated which is,perhaps,coming of age in South Indian cinema. Aamir’s body, shirtless and waxed or in Van Huesen shirts and suits is delicious. Asin’s body of work in South Indian cinema is laudably enormous given the settings and stereotypes. The movie is raking in the moolah and will go on to become a top grosser. But to each his own. Ghajini is not menacing the way he is made to be. Is that again the way Ghajini is suppossed to be or an anti-climactic ploy? His Haryanvi Hindi is also, not matter-of-fact, signature. Standing up against Aamir’s revenge and thirst requires some gravity that he failed to display. He could do as much as he was asked to. Ah, remember the days of Ashutosh Rana in Dushman or Sangharsh, not your larger than life villains but uh-oh. His white shoes and gold baubles make him a late 80’s celluloid copy of a chillad don. His cronies are depraving, gross and not up to the mark. They surely look dumb and dumber especially in the fight scenes. It’s another thing if the director wanted to maintain/highlight the impact of Aamir and therefore made them look paltry. The crucial scene in which Asin is holed up in her own house is bone chilling. The helplessness and the slipping hope, and when hope arrives, it is tragically late.

This fetish for playing balancing two characters is the current flavour of/in Hindi cinema. We saw this earlier in Rab ne Bana di Jodi also, where modest Surinder Sahni loves playing the loud and stylish Raj. Here the rather loud Kalpana likes and begins to love the quiet  Sachin after a night long monologue of to be or not to be. There are tender moments in the movie that make her appealing, probably that’s the way her character is shaped.

We could have saved Kalpana if the filthy rich Sanjay gave a thought to providing an undercover security blanket as much as he got her a swanky apartment in upmarket Bombay. But then, Ghajini would not have born. Trash it, it is a bad idea. Ghajini is not meant to be a villain. It is someone’s revenge story, justified or not is hardly consequential. Ghajini had to be hunted down, he was. And revenge prevailed. The killing scenes are gory, the methods even more chilling and the thuds deafening.

Jiah as medic intern Sumitra is supportive. Wish if someone could have toned down those tonged locks and skinny jeans. Her fear is palpable as much as mine. I will hate to close a window in the dark lest you know…

Tinnu Anand's quintessential aspiring act is endearing. But this Aamir who grunts like a beast and kills without remorse is different. Power-packed and earth-shattering, he did look scary and I would hate to meet him.

 

Search of a kind

"ek onkar satnam kartapurakh
nirmoh nirvair akaal murat
ajuni sabham
guru parsad jap aad sach jugaad sach
hai bhi sach nanak hose bhi sach
soche soch na ho wai
jo sochi lakh waar
chhupe chhup na howai
je laai har lakhtaar
ukhiya pukh na utari

je banna puriya paar
sahasyanpa lakh woh hai
ta ek na chale naal 
ke ve sach yaara hoi ae
ke ve kude tutte paal
hukum rajai chalna nanak likheya naal"

I was looking for this song like a crazy person the entire day. For lack of understanding the language I was in the wrong direction. Asked friends and even tried calling my Sikh friend in Shillong,she was not at home. My keywords were "gurbani", "satnam sri waheguru", etc and any random search that came close to "satnam". There is something about this invocation. The other invocation that calms me is the Gayatri Mantra. 

When I first heard this, it was some months ago in the movie Rang De Basanti but like I paid attention given my momentary attention span. Then, in a Zee TV serial called Maayka. Both times, I was mesmerised but not attentive enough to probe more.Then Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi took a trip of my memory. Somehow, I was amazed at my inability to spot this sacred gem.

Think-out-of-the-box(a nickname I have given someone) asked me if I had this song especially after our "ji" banter and chat,"Mom loves that number." Very confidently (though I kinda knew this version is not existent in my collection) I proclaimed,"haan..hona chahiye."I will find out. Yes, and I did not find it. :'-( 

A chanced meeting with another dear friend at work, he is a virtual guardian.I ranted my my day's update,just one update only. i could not find this song. He asked me to ask my Google mom, another lovely lady and a spirited Punjaban. We called her, she told me she didn't have it but rendered the first few lines.Gosh! I found it!

My search was over.I found the gem near sometime at sunset.Bugged a couple friends.At peace now.I have midnight  mass to offer. :)

I learn, you learn...

Learning is an unending process, definitely. Dad showed me a full form grid many years ago.

L stood for life, that it is never too late or too early to learn anything in life. I want to learn so many things, god! Hope they don’t decline admissions stating you need to be of a certain tender age, like airlines do when they hire fresh faces for their hospitality department.

I is for interest for the subject or whatever we intend/want to learn.

F means faith, first in yourself, then in God and then, in others around you.

E is the enterprise that sustains process and all that goes on in the wheel of fortune.

 

I learned how to hold my temper when I was sent to kindergarten to teach.

I learned to be patient when Mom was bedridden for weeks after a fall.

I learned that it is just a fraction that decides life from death and death from life.

I learned that miracles do happen and sometimes don’t when grandma did not wake from the operation table.

I learned that disobedience is costly. It nearly cost my brother’s life.

I learned that it is easier to forgive than not to forget. I have lost a couple friends.

I learned to pray when there was no hope and yes, I was comforted.

I learned to be fair when your best friends who are guys go out with their girlfriends.

I learned to smile and accommodate when my girlfriends had dates to attend.

I learned to be OK when you are dumped like a hot potato when something came up.

I learned being loving makes you stronger.

 

On the lighter side…

 

I learned that

I can never belly-dance, just can’tL

I am a disaster with crying babies, I panic K

I cannot build sand castles,

I cannot fly kites,

I cannot play carom,

I cannot play marbles with that skill to break them in one shot.

I cannot shoot balloons at a fair, my aim is so awfully bad!

 

 

 

 

A Prelude to a mundane life

Pigeons coo on a sunny morning,

The broom cries coarsely,

The man wails, “Tomato, tomato”.

 

The newspaper lands with a thud on the porch,

The alarm goes with a snooze of a temptation

And a mat of dead drunken mosquitoes.

 

The triumph of one evening  

Becomes the madness of the day ahead

And the soothing calm of the dark night.

 

The urbane dead celebrate stubbed cigarettes,

And breathe in an empty bottle

Where unwashed dishes is a new metaphor.

 

Where earning and credit cards are none-of-your business

Where crying is a useless ploy

And laughing a sadistic relief

 

The tube is a compulsive irritant

“How many bodies?” cries the insufferable

You zap and yawn and well...

 

To an empty stomach food is god

Food is a sentimental issue. Non-vegetarians love their meat and fish lovers their fish as much as veggies try to categorize eggs and milk as not non-veg. Indians ‘learn’ a lot from Maneka Gandhi on what is appropriate and what is not including paneer and butter.

I work in a place where food is available in plenty and abundance. My eyes wander and wonder in sheer amazement at break-outs and what the mind cannot think of. You seek and you have it. Breakfast is a grand spread, lunch is grander. Dinner is very homely and respectable.

With the average age of inmates here less than 25 and a few close to over the hill and close to corporate menopause,we have a diverse eating crowd. Fortunate souls get their tiffin boxes. ‘I’m feeling lucky’ kinds enjoy food at office. We all want to believe that we work at/in and for the best place in the world. Definitely, standards can’t be compromised and one should only maintain/improve them per the needs to ensure smiling faces. We also want to believe that we are daughters/sons of kings and queens (no harm in believing that too, for our parents will confirm that we are indeed royal blood in a royal place from royal backgrounds!)

It then becomes a divine right to complain/whine/fret and be all the bratty self that you can be to the regular feature of leaving food in all states eaten/half-eaten/not eaten at the dish-conveyor belts. Unless, there is a serious grievous spiteful reason, no cook (which includes your mother J ) will cook badly enough. Even happy homes have food disasters. The best lovable cook in the world also burns food, adds more salt/spices and ruins recipes. It is a typical syndrome called confusion amidst plenty.

We are strictly harsh to and critical of people who cook for us, an activity if left to us will be of great interest given the amount of time and short-cut methods we apply. We can’t have it both/all ways. You ask for healthy food and also, tasteful and then complain, it is bland and not spicy. Laughter. You eat like there’s no tomorrow and want that calories be measured to keep in check the growing abdominal tyres. More laughter. Some of you have ‘not-well’ tongues, thanks to sickness, smoking and a plain compulsive habit of not liking anything generally. Sorry, this species can’t appreciate food at all. You can’t appreciate/differentiate (for lack of/overload of knowledge or sheer confusion) cuisines and want tadka/spice in your continental and Chinese, sin it is! If we could be a lil’ considerate and not treat people who cook for us as dishwashers. When we have options, have the discretion to exercise them. Volunteer to cook/ suggest recipes. Suggestion is the best weapon of victorious persuasion.

A majority of the crowd who judge is the same breed who on weekends thrives on fast food, parties, Maggi and junk. There is a respectable lot who love to cook, who are forced to cook and who cook for others. Even burnt rice is attacked with confused love, affection and attention with jokes of ‘it will rain on your wedding day!’