It has been a rather tragic last month. Steve Jobs, Jagjit Singh and Dennis Ritchie (no, not Denise Richards) all dead. A lot has been written and said about their deaths - and they were the numero uno in their respective fields. For me personally, however, none of these deaths has had a very specific impact. I have never used Apple except for the Ipod Nano - and I am pretty happy to own it, but I was as happy with the Creative MP3 player I had before. I do not quite understand the aesthetics which make Apple products in general, and Steve Jobs in particular, such a rage everywhere. I think the loss of Jagjit Singh is a pretty big loss to the Ghazal world, but my Ghazal period is well past me now, and I do not think I was going to try any of his newer ghazals were they to come out. About Dennis Ritchie, I had no idea who he was until he died. I recoiled in horror when I thought that Denise Richards had died though, for who can get bored of that amazing Wild Things scene. And the less said of my programming skills the better.
But what cannot be denied is that the world is three amazing men short, and in today's world, where amazing people are hard to come by, it is a tragedy of the highest order.
In spite of all these tragedies abounding the world, the most tragic event in the previous month for me has been the decision of REM to call it a day.
I am by no means a passionate fan, for passion, as long term readers of this blog will testify, is not something I associate myself with. Even though REM is my favourite band, or so I like telling people, there are some songs I absolutely hate. How can anyone get through Shiny Happy People, Lotus or Swan Swan is beyond me. On the other hand, I love all songs of Beatles, Rolling Stones, Who or Dire Straits, to name some of the other bands I like. But my favourite band, I hasten to add, is still REM.
Perhaps its for reasons more than the music. I do not understand music to be very honest. I listen to music a lot, but I am unable to rate music as good or bad. In other words, I am not really able to appreciate music. I have never been really to appreciate AR Rehman or the music of Dev D for example. The only instrumentals I have ever been able to like are the Fifth Symphony, Jessica and the Doors' Symphony. I also have problem making my Ipod listing, for what I like is a function of external factors, and my mood.
But I digress. Had I been able to appreciate music I might have said that Buck is the god of guitar or something. Or that Stipes' vocals are what make him one of the underrated singers of our generation. Or that the reason for REM's success is that the whole is much greater than the sum of four talented - but not genius- musicians from Athens, Georgia. But I can make none of those claims. I can only claim that I love REM, and because music is not the reason I do it for, I can only hypothesize about the why of it.
I appreciate REM for the kind of legacy they have made in the industry, being totally independent, and still managing to make it big. I also appreciate their strong anti-right wing views. But those are just add on features - not enough to make them my favourite.
I probably like REM because it is a sad band. Just like me. They do a lot of happy songs, but inherently their greatest hits have been songs about losing or trying to find - feelings I can so well connect with, about being lonely in the company of people, about finding and losing love. In short, most of REM songs, I feel, are about me. I am a lot like the protoganist in a lot of REM songs, confused, but trying to find a way. He is not perfect, and there is something he is seeking, and the songs are about the journey.
Why is the band not more popular, I hear the skeptics among you say. It is because people do not know much beyond Losing My Religion when it comes to REM. So here is a list, one that you must listen to - a song of my favourite REM songs in no particular order:
a) Nightswimming - My first REM song, and one that hooked me instantly. Its a song about longing, probably about going back to one's childhood. About how, after a long hard day, all you ever want is to be a child again, and enjoy nightswimming, like years ago. Its also, at the same time, a song about lost love, and being betrayed. Or atleast that is what I think.
b) Ignoreland - A pure vitriol filled, right wing bashing political song. And one, which should become the anthem for anti-right forces come the 2014 elections. The way it starts "These bastards stole power from the victims of the us v. them years" is a precursor to how the right wing might emerge back into power, creating issues that were never there.
c) Find the River - These lyrics do not make any sense when you look at it. However, once you start appreciating Stipe's writing genius, you will probably recognize this song to be about starting a search to find the meaning of your life. It is a tough quest, but the protagonist is about to make that journey.
d) Everybody Hurts - What more can I say? A song that helped me through the darkest time of my life, and which nursed me back to good things. If there was one song that a man committing suicide should listen to, it is this.
e) At my most beautiful - Another example of REM awesomeness. A sweet love song, about how love makes you feel so good about yourself.
f) Strange Currencies - A song about unrequited love, and its truly amazing. I have been in the unrequited love stage a few times, and have researched bits about songs, and this is top of the heap, so take my word for it.
g) My Crush with Eyeliner - About proposing. About how to get a girl to like you. Sweet.
h) I've been High - Sample lyrics: "I've been high, but life, it still washes over me." "All I want, all I really want, is to live my life on a high". Need I say anything more? If you have been high, and disappointed even at that high state, this is the song for you. Legendary.
i) Whats the Frequency Kenneth - A middle class refrain to the youth. I can agree, after visiting places like TC, and seeing these 20 year old acting as if they own the world.
j) Losing My Religion - The most famous REM song by a distance. A song, again of unrequited love.
k) Electrolite - Ever felt like being totally alone and on the top of the world? This song captures that feeling.
l) Don't go back to Rockville - Replace Rockville with the required city name, and this song shall become the kind of song you will sing for someone who is leaving you and you run to the airport to ask them to get back. The kind of thing Ross does for Rachel, or the kind of foolish thing I have done.
m) Be Mine - A stalker song. But pretty sweet and corny.
I could go on and on, but this list should do for now. And when you are done, could you be cool enough to comment on your opinions about the band and the songs you listened to?
And yeah, thanks REM. I owe you a big one.
Showing posts with label Reviews. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Reviews. Show all posts
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Sunday, October 17, 2010
The Ghost's Diary
(I don't normally write about movies and plays, and their reviews, and my technical understanding of theater is minimal, to say the least. I do not understand the finer technicalities of the music or lighting, for example, and am unable to appreciate them fully as well. However, I really loved the Ghost Diary for the story, and how it has been brought upon the stage, and this is what is mentioned here. That is not to take the appreciation away from the production, direction and the music and lighting effects of the play)
At the end of the play, while the actors are preparing to take the bow, Deepak Dhamija, the writer, producer, director of the Ghost's Diary, says, "We still have not figured out whether it was a comedy or a tragedy." An apt comment, for the Ghost's Diary makes you laugh, and is refreshingly witty at times, but when it all ends, you are left feeling with the kind of sad feeling that the end of Jaane bhi do Yaaron left you with. Like the aforementioned film, the play can be best termed as a satire - on human life, and the endless rat race that you and me are a part of.
The play is essentially a monologue of the main actor and his obsession with writing a tragedy. The days of the great tragedy are gone, and he wants to make people cry through his writing. The action unfolds as the protagonist takes us through the various events in his life, which he captures in his diary. Through it you know about his troubled relation with his parents and teachers, the failed first crush and his generally "tragic" life.
The three actors, who portray the protagonist in various phases of life, do a really commendable job. The naughty schoolboy has been portrayed rather brilliantly by Tushar Sharma, while the college going, angry Puneet Khokhar is pretty awesome too. However, it is the middle aged, Manpreet Vora who is the star of the show and has the best dialogues, including a two minute monologue where he portrays God. And yeah, there is a clown, portrayed by Ali, who represents the "comedy" part of the play, an anti-thesis to the "tragedy" of the antagonist.
The protagonist is obsessed with tragedy, and after reading Anne Franks' Diary of a Young Girl, becomes convinced that his whole life is like a concentration camp - with his parents and teachers being the Nazis. So like Anne Frank, he plans to live out the tragedy and write it all down. Over time, however, as he sees the love his parents have for him, he realizes his life is not so bad. And so, his initial attempts at publishing a tragic diary fails. His father wants him to become a doctor, and he has the potential to become one, but all he wants is to write a tragedy.
The story of Ghost's Diary could well be the story of you and I - a person trying to fit into the world, but being unable to do so. Not because he is handicapped or poor or mentally retarded, but just because he does not want to. He does not want to be the best, and his approach to life is made clear when he says, "I just want to live life". He believes he lives his life to the maximum and says, in order to live, "I will beg or borrow or steal". But he is averse to doing any work, because well, work is work. Work is not life. He just wants to write a tragedy.
And then he decides the way to write a play - a tragic play, one that will bring the essence of the Antigone and the Hamlet back. He is sure the play will make people cry and that people will love to cry, despite being told by his friend Poo - who calls him once in a while - that people nowadays do not care for tragedies as their own lives are tragic enough. The various theater groups also fail to appreciate a tragedy and
The play that he writes is almost his own story - about a talented guy who doesnt want to make use of his talents. He feels unfit to live in the new world, obsessed with money and success. He does not do it, not because he cannot, but because he does not care. His tragedy is not being able to fit into the world, and do a job that other people think normal. Is it normal doing something you do not like - for money? He compares work, all useless, corporate work to prostitution, and chides the world through it. It is a tragedy of our generation, which is so lost in money and success, that they have lost their own selves.
The play that he writes, however, only brings smile to the audiences. They fail to recognize the tragedy of the world. The play fails as a tragedy, and our protagonist fails in his attempt. Which prompts his first suicide attempt, which also fails. And his second play, about God and Satan, which shocks people so much that he is attacked and injured. And then his second suicide attempt, which as much as the rest of his life, also fails.
However, over time he is brought up by his relatives and friends to live a normal life. And he does, which is probably the biggest tragedy.
Ghost's Diary counters you with a lot of questions that have troubled me - What is the meaning of life? Is there a God, and if there is, what is he doing above? Is it really normal to easily become a slave of the evil corporate empire?
And perhaps, the biggest question of them all, what is a tragedy and a comedy? Is it not just a point of view? One man's meat is another man's poison, they say, and hence maybe there are no clear tragedies - or comedies. We root for the hero because the story is told through his perspective. Was Romeo and Juliet a tragedy or a stupid romantic comedy? Was Hamlet, for that matter, a tragedy, or just Shakespeare's comic satire on a feuding family? Will Mahabharat or Ramayana be different seen from the perspective of Duryodhana?
Ghost's Diary does not give you any answers - but the play will definitely force you to think and find your own answers. Not many works of art do that, and hence this play is highly recommended. And when you do, do let me also know, whether the play was a comedy or a tragedy. For like the much acclaimed writer-producer-director, I am also confused.
At the end of the play, while the actors are preparing to take the bow, Deepak Dhamija, the writer, producer, director of the Ghost's Diary, says, "We still have not figured out whether it was a comedy or a tragedy." An apt comment, for the Ghost's Diary makes you laugh, and is refreshingly witty at times, but when it all ends, you are left feeling with the kind of sad feeling that the end of Jaane bhi do Yaaron left you with. Like the aforementioned film, the play can be best termed as a satire - on human life, and the endless rat race that you and me are a part of.
The play is essentially a monologue of the main actor and his obsession with writing a tragedy. The days of the great tragedy are gone, and he wants to make people cry through his writing. The action unfolds as the protagonist takes us through the various events in his life, which he captures in his diary. Through it you know about his troubled relation with his parents and teachers, the failed first crush and his generally "tragic" life.
The three actors, who portray the protagonist in various phases of life, do a really commendable job. The naughty schoolboy has been portrayed rather brilliantly by Tushar Sharma, while the college going, angry Puneet Khokhar is pretty awesome too. However, it is the middle aged, Manpreet Vora who is the star of the show and has the best dialogues, including a two minute monologue where he portrays God. And yeah, there is a clown, portrayed by Ali, who represents the "comedy" part of the play, an anti-thesis to the "tragedy" of the antagonist.
The protagonist is obsessed with tragedy, and after reading Anne Franks' Diary of a Young Girl, becomes convinced that his whole life is like a concentration camp - with his parents and teachers being the Nazis. So like Anne Frank, he plans to live out the tragedy and write it all down. Over time, however, as he sees the love his parents have for him, he realizes his life is not so bad. And so, his initial attempts at publishing a tragic diary fails. His father wants him to become a doctor, and he has the potential to become one, but all he wants is to write a tragedy.
The story of Ghost's Diary could well be the story of you and I - a person trying to fit into the world, but being unable to do so. Not because he is handicapped or poor or mentally retarded, but just because he does not want to. He does not want to be the best, and his approach to life is made clear when he says, "I just want to live life". He believes he lives his life to the maximum and says, in order to live, "I will beg or borrow or steal". But he is averse to doing any work, because well, work is work. Work is not life. He just wants to write a tragedy.
And then he decides the way to write a play - a tragic play, one that will bring the essence of the Antigone and the Hamlet back. He is sure the play will make people cry and that people will love to cry, despite being told by his friend Poo - who calls him once in a while - that people nowadays do not care for tragedies as their own lives are tragic enough. The various theater groups also fail to appreciate a tragedy and
The play that he writes is almost his own story - about a talented guy who doesnt want to make use of his talents. He feels unfit to live in the new world, obsessed with money and success. He does not do it, not because he cannot, but because he does not care. His tragedy is not being able to fit into the world, and do a job that other people think normal. Is it normal doing something you do not like - for money? He compares work, all useless, corporate work to prostitution, and chides the world through it. It is a tragedy of our generation, which is so lost in money and success, that they have lost their own selves.
The play that he writes, however, only brings smile to the audiences. They fail to recognize the tragedy of the world. The play fails as a tragedy, and our protagonist fails in his attempt. Which prompts his first suicide attempt, which also fails. And his second play, about God and Satan, which shocks people so much that he is attacked and injured. And then his second suicide attempt, which as much as the rest of his life, also fails.
However, over time he is brought up by his relatives and friends to live a normal life. And he does, which is probably the biggest tragedy.
Ghost's Diary counters you with a lot of questions that have troubled me - What is the meaning of life? Is there a God, and if there is, what is he doing above? Is it really normal to easily become a slave of the evil corporate empire?
And perhaps, the biggest question of them all, what is a tragedy and a comedy? Is it not just a point of view? One man's meat is another man's poison, they say, and hence maybe there are no clear tragedies - or comedies. We root for the hero because the story is told through his perspective. Was Romeo and Juliet a tragedy or a stupid romantic comedy? Was Hamlet, for that matter, a tragedy, or just Shakespeare's comic satire on a feuding family? Will Mahabharat or Ramayana be different seen from the perspective of Duryodhana?
Ghost's Diary does not give you any answers - but the play will definitely force you to think and find your own answers. Not many works of art do that, and hence this play is highly recommended. And when you do, do let me also know, whether the play was a comedy or a tragedy. For like the much acclaimed writer-producer-director, I am also confused.
Sunday, July 29, 2007
My brother's wedding - 2
It was the perfect pass. And we had won it, quite easily.
What I am referring to is the shoes war between the two sides, the ladkewaale and the ladkiwaale. For the ignorant lot who have somehow missed or forgotten HAHK ( it was not such a good movie, but well it was a hit one), the bride's sisters (nowadays, it actually is the entire family) have to take and hide away the groom's shoes, and get money in return. It is the responsibility of the groom's side to ensure that a) the shoes are not taken, and b) if they are, then they are returned to the groom before the bride side can demand money. Now, the important thing is it is just a game, and whether any side succeeds or not, the transfer of money is mandatory.
Statistically, it has been proved that the best time to take the shoes away from the groom is when he sits on the mandap. He has to open his shoes to sit near the ceremonial fire , and then the ladkiwaale strike. As it happens, the groom has to sit on mandap twice, once without the bride (for some initial ceremony), and the other time for the saat phere. In between, is the part where the varmala takes place. This background is necessary to understand what happened next.
As soon as we went inside the marriage hall, accompanied by the light and sound of the firecrackers, my brother was taken away by the pundit; removed his shoes near a chair and sat in the mandap. I was then entrusted by my family, to go and take the shoes, which I accomplished pretty smoothly, except that the other side saw me doing it. We then discretely divided the pair, and kept them with two of my cousins: one hidden under my cousin's chunni, while the other went into the cardboard container with the firecrackers . And when my brother went for the varmala, one of my other cousins volunteered to offer his own shoes. Coming back, from the dais after photographs and all, the process repeated itself: my brother opened his shoes and sat again in the mandap. This time however, my bhabhi's side did manage to take away the shoes before we could even react. (Remember: these are my cousin's shoes, and not the real shoes).
So well now my brother was without shoes, and one of my cousins was without shoes. We started getting frustrated, and asked the bride's side to return the wrong pair of shoes. They refused point blankly. Their opinion was that shoes were shoes, and they did not care whose shoes did they have, as long they had something. We, however, felt that only groom's shoes count, and this caused a lot of fight between the two families. Finally, however, my cousins' persuasive skills won over, and we got back my cousin's shoes.
This whole episode, however, had created a lot of tension between the two families. To diffuse it, one aunty from my bhabhi's family, came to talk to us about the entire incident. We explained how we had managed to sneak the real shoes from right under their nose, hearing which, she slapped her 12 year old son for being incompetent (Oh, what fun that was, the poor boy almost started crying!). And then, being gracious, we decided to give them other chance, and told them to find the shoes, which were somewhere within the wedding lawns themselves. As soon as she got up, she realized that there was something under the chair she was sitting on. And she came back to explore. However, my cousin who had hidden it there, was fast enough for her, and carrying the shoe in his hand, ran all through the lawn, with 4-5 children following him. What followed next was pure magic. My cousin, somehow managed to throw the shoe in some random direction, and it fell in the place to which I was closest. But I had to still run to stave off those children, and I found myself surrounded by these children, and then delivered the perfect quarterback pass. To my other cousin, whose only job was to go and place the shoe under my brother's foot, who was just getting up from the mandap. And to coordinate with my other cousin, who had the other shoe under her chunni all this while. So well, as you see, we won it, but my brother decided to give the money to my bhabhi's sisters anyways. That too a stately amount of Rs. 5100.
Among other things at the wedding, there was alcohol of course, Black Dog whiskey. All my friends left pretty early, though, and could not catch a live demonstration of my American Football skills. (which is sad, in a way). So, well, by the time the marriage ended it was almost 3:00 a.m. in the morning, and everyone was dead tired. However, the best fun of the night was still left (not just for my brother, you perverts, I am talking about myself here).
Me and a lot of my cousins decided to go upstairs (his room is opposite mine) and make the bed. We decorated it with flowers in the shape of an arrow with the heart, and then left a note saying that, "Please don't disturb this arrangement. Lots of hard work gone into it. Inspection to be made at 8:00 a.m. morning." (Cheesy, huh!). And while we were doing this stuff, we had all sort of jokes flying about. It was great bonding with my cousins after a really really long time. So then well, we came down, and didn't allow him to enter the house until he parted with some of the money. He paid the bride's side for doing nothing, we said, and he ought to pay us for taking all that pain, going barefoot and all. So, at the end of it, we, as a whole, were richer by Rs. 2500 + 1100 HKD. But the night had not ended there. We managed to tease my brother even more, by calling him from downstairs, and when he stood on the porch, asking him about such silly things as if he wanted tea or water. And once, even asking him for time. It was so much fun!
The next day started around 10, and it was raining pretty heavily, putting all plans of Dham (It is an Himachali system of community food, in which people sit in rows and are served various Himachali curries and rice), on hold. However, as suddenly as it had started, it stopped, and the Dham went pretty well. But before that, there was more fun (money) for me. According to some Punjabi system, the devar is supposed to sit on the newly married couple's lap and ask for something. (I finally had some advantage of getting fat, and I was going to use it to the maximum). And I did. They already had a suit ready for me, but I was not going to give in so easily. I asked them to sponsor my trip to France, which they had to agree, to get me off them.
Yoyo!!!
My five friends from Delhi were leaving, and had quite a fight among themselves, regarding the time of their departure. For once, I think Sammy was right. Jha and Shreyas had kind of spoiled the trip. They wanted to leave asap, but my mother persuaded them to taste Himachali food, which they liked a lot. And so the entire day was spent meeting people who had come for the dham, mainly family friends from Dharamsala. And the night, well it was easily the most awesome night of all.
The DJ was back, and as he belted popular numbers, my entire mother's family, (most of my father's side family had left during the day) right from five year olds to my bauji (my nana) , who is 92, danced. How they fit in one small floor is a wonder, but I guess when you have spaces in your heart, it does not really matter. It was a perfect mixture of alcohol and dance, and I loved it a lot. And no, no more Lindsay Lohan stories told. I even managed to dance with my bhabhi, and in fact with every female in the big household.
My two male cousins, the ones involved with me in the American Football triumph, were then sent with a bottle of Teachers to my brother's bedroom and were locked inside, and when my brother entered with my bhabhi late in the night, they managed to sponsor their own trip to Hong Kong on my brother's expense, as a price for getting out. What else do you want!
It was dance, it was alcohol, it was money, but no, the greatest fun of the wedding was the bonding with my family members. Sometimes, despite all your differences, you can really be one, and I really loved that spirit. It was, to use IIMC lingo, too much!!!
What I am referring to is the shoes war between the two sides, the ladkewaale and the ladkiwaale. For the ignorant lot who have somehow missed or forgotten HAHK ( it was not such a good movie, but well it was a hit one), the bride's sisters (nowadays, it actually is the entire family) have to take and hide away the groom's shoes, and get money in return. It is the responsibility of the groom's side to ensure that a) the shoes are not taken, and b) if they are, then they are returned to the groom before the bride side can demand money. Now, the important thing is it is just a game, and whether any side succeeds or not, the transfer of money is mandatory.
Statistically, it has been proved that the best time to take the shoes away from the groom is when he sits on the mandap. He has to open his shoes to sit near the ceremonial fire , and then the ladkiwaale strike. As it happens, the groom has to sit on mandap twice, once without the bride (for some initial ceremony), and the other time for the saat phere. In between, is the part where the varmala takes place. This background is necessary to understand what happened next.
As soon as we went inside the marriage hall, accompanied by the light and sound of the firecrackers, my brother was taken away by the pundit; removed his shoes near a chair and sat in the mandap. I was then entrusted by my family, to go and take the shoes, which I accomplished pretty smoothly, except that the other side saw me doing it. We then discretely divided the pair, and kept them with two of my cousins: one hidden under my cousin's chunni, while the other went into the cardboard container with the firecrackers . And when my brother went for the varmala, one of my other cousins volunteered to offer his own shoes. Coming back, from the dais after photographs and all, the process repeated itself: my brother opened his shoes and sat again in the mandap. This time however, my bhabhi's side did manage to take away the shoes before we could even react. (Remember: these are my cousin's shoes, and not the real shoes).
So well now my brother was without shoes, and one of my cousins was without shoes. We started getting frustrated, and asked the bride's side to return the wrong pair of shoes. They refused point blankly. Their opinion was that shoes were shoes, and they did not care whose shoes did they have, as long they had something. We, however, felt that only groom's shoes count, and this caused a lot of fight between the two families. Finally, however, my cousins' persuasive skills won over, and we got back my cousin's shoes.
This whole episode, however, had created a lot of tension between the two families. To diffuse it, one aunty from my bhabhi's family, came to talk to us about the entire incident. We explained how we had managed to sneak the real shoes from right under their nose, hearing which, she slapped her 12 year old son for being incompetent (Oh, what fun that was, the poor boy almost started crying!). And then, being gracious, we decided to give them other chance, and told them to find the shoes, which were somewhere within the wedding lawns themselves. As soon as she got up, she realized that there was something under the chair she was sitting on. And she came back to explore. However, my cousin who had hidden it there, was fast enough for her, and carrying the shoe in his hand, ran all through the lawn, with 4-5 children following him. What followed next was pure magic. My cousin, somehow managed to throw the shoe in some random direction, and it fell in the place to which I was closest. But I had to still run to stave off those children, and I found myself surrounded by these children, and then delivered the perfect quarterback pass. To my other cousin, whose only job was to go and place the shoe under my brother's foot, who was just getting up from the mandap. And to coordinate with my other cousin, who had the other shoe under her chunni all this while. So well, as you see, we won it, but my brother decided to give the money to my bhabhi's sisters anyways. That too a stately amount of Rs. 5100.
Among other things at the wedding, there was alcohol of course, Black Dog whiskey. All my friends left pretty early, though, and could not catch a live demonstration of my American Football skills. (which is sad, in a way). So, well, by the time the marriage ended it was almost 3:00 a.m. in the morning, and everyone was dead tired. However, the best fun of the night was still left (not just for my brother, you perverts, I am talking about myself here).
Me and a lot of my cousins decided to go upstairs (his room is opposite mine) and make the bed. We decorated it with flowers in the shape of an arrow with the heart, and then left a note saying that, "Please don't disturb this arrangement. Lots of hard work gone into it. Inspection to be made at 8:00 a.m. morning." (Cheesy, huh!). And while we were doing this stuff, we had all sort of jokes flying about. It was great bonding with my cousins after a really really long time. So then well, we came down, and didn't allow him to enter the house until he parted with some of the money. He paid the bride's side for doing nothing, we said, and he ought to pay us for taking all that pain, going barefoot and all. So, at the end of it, we, as a whole, were richer by Rs. 2500 + 1100 HKD. But the night had not ended there. We managed to tease my brother even more, by calling him from downstairs, and when he stood on the porch, asking him about such silly things as if he wanted tea or water. And once, even asking him for time. It was so much fun!
The next day started around 10, and it was raining pretty heavily, putting all plans of Dham (It is an Himachali system of community food, in which people sit in rows and are served various Himachali curries and rice), on hold. However, as suddenly as it had started, it stopped, and the Dham went pretty well. But before that, there was more fun (money) for me. According to some Punjabi system, the devar is supposed to sit on the newly married couple's lap and ask for something. (I finally had some advantage of getting fat, and I was going to use it to the maximum). And I did. They already had a suit ready for me, but I was not going to give in so easily. I asked them to sponsor my trip to France, which they had to agree, to get me off them.
Yoyo!!!
My five friends from Delhi were leaving, and had quite a fight among themselves, regarding the time of their departure. For once, I think Sammy was right. Jha and Shreyas had kind of spoiled the trip. They wanted to leave asap, but my mother persuaded them to taste Himachali food, which they liked a lot. And so the entire day was spent meeting people who had come for the dham, mainly family friends from Dharamsala. And the night, well it was easily the most awesome night of all.
The DJ was back, and as he belted popular numbers, my entire mother's family, (most of my father's side family had left during the day) right from five year olds to my bauji (my nana) , who is 92, danced. How they fit in one small floor is a wonder, but I guess when you have spaces in your heart, it does not really matter. It was a perfect mixture of alcohol and dance, and I loved it a lot. And no, no more Lindsay Lohan stories told. I even managed to dance with my bhabhi, and in fact with every female in the big household.
My two male cousins, the ones involved with me in the American Football triumph, were then sent with a bottle of Teachers to my brother's bedroom and were locked inside, and when my brother entered with my bhabhi late in the night, they managed to sponsor their own trip to Hong Kong on my brother's expense, as a price for getting out. What else do you want!
It was dance, it was alcohol, it was money, but no, the greatest fun of the wedding was the bonding with my family members. Sometimes, despite all your differences, you can really be one, and I really loved that spirit. It was, to use IIMC lingo, too much!!!
Saturday, June 30, 2007
My brother's wedding-1
My brother finally got married. It was a great wedding, and I had a rollicking time.
Reaching home and moving into my new room was an awesome experience in itself. Imagine a first floor room with a full frontal view of the Himalayas, complete with wooden flooring, and an Americanized bathroom. And I had my own dressing room. Just shifting upstairs was so much fun in the first place, as was the realization that I would actually look forward to going home from now on. The days before the marriage saw me trying to arrange stuff like DJ, rooms for the guests, alcohol and a lot of less important stuff. Also, the responsibility of taking care of guests who trickled in and out fell upon me. It was great to meet a lot of my cousins and nephews and nieces and aunts and uncles after a long long time.
Day 1: 23rd June, Saturday : Program: Shagun and Ring Ceremony at a hotel in Dharamsala. The ceremony went off okay. The entire day saw some more of the guests pouring in, and the best part of the night was the DJ-cum-"cocktail" night, at home, which saw infinite amounts of whiskey and beer, with some amount of vodka, gin and rum added. I made the bartender make some pretty big (90 ml whiskey with 60 ml of Old Monk and Vodka, and 30 ml of gin, with the rest of the glass filled with coke) Long Island Iced Tea (without Tequila, of course (how do u find Tequila in Kangra District)), and got really high within no time, and then started telling people about my adventures in the United States of America, and also describing, whats now famous in my family as the Lindsay Lohan story. I have not mentioned this story in my earlier blogs about the Big Apple, so now is a pretty good time to do so.
"Well, it so happened, that P and me found ourselves outside this really good nightclub one Friday night. The only thing stopping us from going in was this huge black Negro, who told us that no stag entry was allowed. So well, as a desperate measure, we decided to ask a girl to get us in, and sure enough, a group of a guy and three girls came along. I tapped one of the females on the back and asked her if she could let us in. And man, was she hot!! What really took me aback was that she agreed at once, took my hand in hers and asked her other friend to take P in. She looked like Lindsay Lohan, and she asked me for my name and P's name. Her name was Allison, and as P was telling her his name, the negro saw us and didn't grant us access in the sake of us not knowing one another. Now well, Allison was really sorry thinking it to be her fault, and I consoled her. I now think it would have been the perfect time to ask her for her phone number, but loser that I am, I just waved her away."
So, this was the story I kept repeating that entire night, in front of everyone present. And I used the word chakka a lot too. And there were my cousins, who tried to take my case, my brother, who inspite of all the spotlight on him, was probably loving me stealing his thunder.
By the time people went away, or had slept, (it was already 3 in the morning) I had moderated down a bit, and my brother was having some questions about leaving his bachelor lifestyle behind. I tried to calm him a bit, and I guessed it worked. Then I left upstairs to my room, the best room in the world, and slept for tomorrow was going to be another gruelling day.
Day 2: The day started around 10, when I got down to assist dad in the functions, and boy, was this day fun! The entire day was about my brother taking part in various activities, which was to see him sitting in front of the fire most of the time, and when not, getting massaged with haldi by all the ladies of the house. It is kind of embarrassing really if you ask me. But for me the entire day was a good exercise in practical management. Sammy, Shreyas, Praddy, Jha and Rupa came around 11 in the morning, and after some chit chat went to the hotel to get some rest. I, on the other hand, worked hard getting things arranged, and was actually missing for most of my brother's ceremonies (Sehra bandi and all that crap). By 6 in the evening, we were all ready to go (considering that the expected time was 5:30, we didnt do too bad). Vaibhav came all the way from Hamirpur, and after picking up Vivek, came straight to the wedding place, which was an hotel in Palampur. And so started the best wedding function I ever attended. (To be continued).
Reaching home and moving into my new room was an awesome experience in itself. Imagine a first floor room with a full frontal view of the Himalayas, complete with wooden flooring, and an Americanized bathroom. And I had my own dressing room. Just shifting upstairs was so much fun in the first place, as was the realization that I would actually look forward to going home from now on. The days before the marriage saw me trying to arrange stuff like DJ, rooms for the guests, alcohol and a lot of less important stuff. Also, the responsibility of taking care of guests who trickled in and out fell upon me. It was great to meet a lot of my cousins and nephews and nieces and aunts and uncles after a long long time.
Day 1: 23rd June, Saturday : Program: Shagun and Ring Ceremony at a hotel in Dharamsala. The ceremony went off okay. The entire day saw some more of the guests pouring in, and the best part of the night was the DJ-cum-"cocktail" night, at home, which saw infinite amounts of whiskey and beer, with some amount of vodka, gin and rum added. I made the bartender make some pretty big (90 ml whiskey with 60 ml of Old Monk and Vodka, and 30 ml of gin, with the rest of the glass filled with coke) Long Island Iced Tea (without Tequila, of course (how do u find Tequila in Kangra District)), and got really high within no time, and then started telling people about my adventures in the United States of America, and also describing, whats now famous in my family as the Lindsay Lohan story. I have not mentioned this story in my earlier blogs about the Big Apple, so now is a pretty good time to do so.
"Well, it so happened, that P and me found ourselves outside this really good nightclub one Friday night. The only thing stopping us from going in was this huge black Negro, who told us that no stag entry was allowed. So well, as a desperate measure, we decided to ask a girl to get us in, and sure enough, a group of a guy and three girls came along. I tapped one of the females on the back and asked her if she could let us in. And man, was she hot!! What really took me aback was that she agreed at once, took my hand in hers and asked her other friend to take P in. She looked like Lindsay Lohan, and she asked me for my name and P's name. Her name was Allison, and as P was telling her his name, the negro saw us and didn't grant us access in the sake of us not knowing one another. Now well, Allison was really sorry thinking it to be her fault, and I consoled her. I now think it would have been the perfect time to ask her for her phone number, but loser that I am, I just waved her away."
So, this was the story I kept repeating that entire night, in front of everyone present. And I used the word chakka a lot too. And there were my cousins, who tried to take my case, my brother, who inspite of all the spotlight on him, was probably loving me stealing his thunder.
By the time people went away, or had slept, (it was already 3 in the morning) I had moderated down a bit, and my brother was having some questions about leaving his bachelor lifestyle behind. I tried to calm him a bit, and I guessed it worked. Then I left upstairs to my room, the best room in the world, and slept for tomorrow was going to be another gruelling day.
Day 2: The day started around 10, when I got down to assist dad in the functions, and boy, was this day fun! The entire day was about my brother taking part in various activities, which was to see him sitting in front of the fire most of the time, and when not, getting massaged with haldi by all the ladies of the house. It is kind of embarrassing really if you ask me. But for me the entire day was a good exercise in practical management. Sammy, Shreyas, Praddy, Jha and Rupa came around 11 in the morning, and after some chit chat went to the hotel to get some rest. I, on the other hand, worked hard getting things arranged, and was actually missing for most of my brother's ceremonies (Sehra bandi and all that crap). By 6 in the evening, we were all ready to go (considering that the expected time was 5:30, we didnt do too bad). Vaibhav came all the way from Hamirpur, and after picking up Vivek, came straight to the wedding place, which was an hotel in Palampur. And so started the best wedding function I ever attended. (To be continued).
Sunday, January 29, 2006
Darkness...
I have just finished doing what I have never done before: Watched a movie twice in two consecutive days. That too in Priya, buying tickets above the normal Rs. 45 affair. Before this, I had never watched a movie twice in a theatre, let alone on consecutive days. The movie, as you might have had guessed by now, is Rang De Basanti, and both the times, it has felt like a tight slap on the face.I am not an avid movie goer, and cant really comment about the technical quality of the movie, but from my point of view, it hit me like nothing else has ever before. RDB has taught me a few things, and I feel exactly like many of my peers had told me it would: You are left speechless. And I was left with a feeling of complete guilt as well. Guilt because it felt that at the ripe old age of 23, I have not achieved nothing, while people like those brave krantikaris had laid down their lives by this time. It actually reminded me of something I had read in the book on World History in my childhood, Julius Ceaser was crying out aloud, at the age of 33, outside a Roman temple. When someone asked him why, he replied, "By this age, Alexander had conquered the world, and I, I have won nothing." Bad comparison, alright, but thats exactly how I feel right now, wanting to cry out aloud.
RDB is a funny movie. It has some of the best subtle comic dialogues. It is also, by far, the darkest movies I have ever seen (And this includes all Hollywood films I have seen). There seems to be no hope, after watching the end. Corruption is here to stay, as are the perennial problems of casteism and communalism. And it exists everywhere, sadly. How many of us newly office goers are not trying to avoid paying the actual tax by coming up with bills we havent actually paid for? And how many of us are willing to pay the entire fine to the government, rather than putting one tenth of the amount into the traffic policeman for a traffic light violation? Not many, I would guess. How can we change society when we ourselves are dishonest in the first place? The first step then, is to change ourselves, and later attempt the change in society, which itself throws up many challenges.
RDB seems like two movies merge into one, and while I watched the first half, it seemed that nothing could overshadow the first half performance. But by the end of the movie, the period before the intermission had slipped into oblivion, and all you could remember was the deep patriotic message that the movie was trying to convey. And maybe it was not exactly a patriotic message. It was a message of the triumph of the Human Spirit, and what can it achieve. The movie was actually about how can people change the society. However, these people succeed, because they had nothing else to live for. Can a normal human being produce such a service? I doubt it. For there are other things as important, if not more important, than freedom. To roughly quote Vikram Seth in From Heaven Lake, his travellouge through China, (Please note that the year was 1982, when China's human rights record was in tatters, but its economy had become strong. India, then was still following the long lost dream of a classless society, which left the economy weak) "I was asked in a paper in Stanford, if I had a choice between India and China, as a place of birth in my next birth, what will I choose? I wrote that if I was living in the conditions that I am today, I would definitely prefer India. But if I were among the poorer 35% households of India, those who live everyday at barely Rs. 10 I would prefer China, because even though freedom, and liberty, while being great virtues, are not enough to buy you bread and butter." Can people having a decent lifestyle actually fight for a better cause? I dont think so.
I liked RDB, because it taught me the following things about life, or it helped me deduce the following (when I thought I knew all):
1) Any person has it in him to be a superhero: All it takes are the right circumstances, and making the toughest (which is also the easiest) decision. When life becomes futile, the easiest thing to do is to end it. However, like DJ says, all that is different is the end.
2) When love happens, it is best to leave it to the almighty. If anything has to happen it will. Try your best, but wait. God sees the truth but waits.
3) Life starts only after college. You define life till you start working. After that life starts defining you.
4) You only realise the impact of things after they happen somewhere close to you, or when someone close to you is effected.
5) Determination, with the right amount of hard work and planning, can lead to anything.
6) Corruption is a big issue in India (This was surprisingly not my view earlier), and
7) The common youth of India is not very sure about India's past, or even the present. How many of us, for example, know of 379 as the official figure for the Jallianwallah Bagh tragedy?
I want to say out a lot more, but I guess I shall stop for now. Its almost 4 at night, and I have to be at office by 10 a.m. tomorrow morning.
RDB is a funny movie. It has some of the best subtle comic dialogues. It is also, by far, the darkest movies I have ever seen (And this includes all Hollywood films I have seen). There seems to be no hope, after watching the end. Corruption is here to stay, as are the perennial problems of casteism and communalism. And it exists everywhere, sadly. How many of us newly office goers are not trying to avoid paying the actual tax by coming up with bills we havent actually paid for? And how many of us are willing to pay the entire fine to the government, rather than putting one tenth of the amount into the traffic policeman for a traffic light violation? Not many, I would guess. How can we change society when we ourselves are dishonest in the first place? The first step then, is to change ourselves, and later attempt the change in society, which itself throws up many challenges.
RDB seems like two movies merge into one, and while I watched the first half, it seemed that nothing could overshadow the first half performance. But by the end of the movie, the period before the intermission had slipped into oblivion, and all you could remember was the deep patriotic message that the movie was trying to convey. And maybe it was not exactly a patriotic message. It was a message of the triumph of the Human Spirit, and what can it achieve. The movie was actually about how can people change the society. However, these people succeed, because they had nothing else to live for. Can a normal human being produce such a service? I doubt it. For there are other things as important, if not more important, than freedom. To roughly quote Vikram Seth in From Heaven Lake, his travellouge through China, (Please note that the year was 1982, when China's human rights record was in tatters, but its economy had become strong. India, then was still following the long lost dream of a classless society, which left the economy weak) "I was asked in a paper in Stanford, if I had a choice between India and China, as a place of birth in my next birth, what will I choose? I wrote that if I was living in the conditions that I am today, I would definitely prefer India. But if I were among the poorer 35% households of India, those who live everyday at barely Rs. 10 I would prefer China, because even though freedom, and liberty, while being great virtues, are not enough to buy you bread and butter." Can people having a decent lifestyle actually fight for a better cause? I dont think so.
I liked RDB, because it taught me the following things about life, or it helped me deduce the following (when I thought I knew all):
1) Any person has it in him to be a superhero: All it takes are the right circumstances, and making the toughest (which is also the easiest) decision. When life becomes futile, the easiest thing to do is to end it. However, like DJ says, all that is different is the end.
2) When love happens, it is best to leave it to the almighty. If anything has to happen it will. Try your best, but wait. God sees the truth but waits.
3) Life starts only after college. You define life till you start working. After that life starts defining you.
4) You only realise the impact of things after they happen somewhere close to you, or when someone close to you is effected.
5) Determination, with the right amount of hard work and planning, can lead to anything.
6) Corruption is a big issue in India (This was surprisingly not my view earlier), and
7) The common youth of India is not very sure about India's past, or even the present. How many of us, for example, know of 379 as the official figure for the Jallianwallah Bagh tragedy?
I want to say out a lot more, but I guess I shall stop for now. Its almost 4 at night, and I have to be at office by 10 a.m. tomorrow morning.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)