The Mansion..

Posted on by caniwrite
5

A string of shops – all kinds.
A DVD rental. A hair saloon. A smattering of a few others – an automobile spares shop, a medical hall, the only big grocery “supermarket” in the area, 2/3 punjabi dhabas, a nice south Indian eatery, and more of the same on a crowded stretch of what the junta called the main road.

A detour off that, into one of the streets, a left at the dead end, a stretch of about 150 meters, which is christened the “Digestion Road”, and you would reach The Mansion.

Please do not get misled by the name. The current inhabitants are not the ones you would normally associate with the Royalty. In fact, the closest they came to that was the Royal Enfield, which was quite conspicuous by its presence. It used to park itself a few yards away from the Mansion. It was the local carpenter’s.

The Mansion keepers : The “Homies” – they are called. Nope, do not look for a dictionary.

I say current inhabitants, because I was also once a part of the royal ensemble; during a period, which thankfully, did not have too many ups and downs. Primarily because this was on the ground floor. But it did have a lot of lefts, lot of rights, a hell lot of wrongs, and a lot of fun!

The Mansion is a 2 BHK – 2 Bedroom, Hall and Kitchen. Although, this recent video may convince you to argue with me that there is nothing left of what you normally call a Kitchen.

There was a time, when this very place has seen the likes of Khichdi with papad and beer, wonderful french toasts for breakfast, and pure South Indian lunches (Rasam, Sambhar, curd, the works). It has also turned into a war zone, when one of the erstwhile Homies, a certain spectacle-clad dude, from Gult-Land, decided to give a shot at cooking. And when he was in there….we prayed. For our safety. And sometimes, for his. And more often than not, when he emerged out of the smoke, the victorious smile used to say it all. Sunday lunches were action-packed, you see.

However, of late, I have learnt that,now it can be called a Kitchen – thanks to the concerted efforts of the Homies to give it a semblance of respectability. They do not stack ‘em up there along with the pressure cooker and the pickle bottle. And the basin has regained its earlier position. Brushing and shaving.

Enter the 2 bedrooms – one of which housed 3 custom made folding beds. And the other, the dude from Gult-Land. When we shifted into the Mansion, we did not want to sleep on the floor. It was an insult to our royal blood. We bought 4 very expensive folding beds, brought our engineering minds together with an IISc friend of ours’ (who spent more time here than in his lab) and rented the services of a particularly efficient carpenter who also believed in the concept of re-engineering. Our 4 years of torture(read:Engineering) bore fruit when we saw the final product – wooden planks fixed under the beds – they dont bend, they dont buckle. Brilliant.

So they stayed on. Apart from the occasional creaks, they never complained. Never cringed. They’ve seen every bit of us (literally and figuratively). And a lot of violence as well. They say (who??) that a pen is mightier than a sword. In this case, one of the more calmer Homies used a broomstick and a brush(??) to prove this saying to us. In his case, the broomstick was indeed mightier than…a pillow. Inspiring.

And no. The Royal Enfield was not this carpenter’s. He came on a Hero Cycle.

The Hall – it would actually be one, if not for the commanding presence of a very “large” person, who tends to think that by sleeping only in his low-waist jeans (definition of “low” is something you would want to avoid here), which saw a washing machine eons ago, he can scare away the landlord who, strangely, comes on Saturday mornings to take the rent. Now, the landlord is this old man, lovingly called “Taatha”. For his age, he should have known, that the only thing which can totter more than him on a Saturday morning, at 7′o’clock, is a young bachelor with a hangover, brought upon by the blessings of the UB group and other such charitable companies.

It also contains some comfortable couches, which were (and I guess, still are) used effectively to lend our hospitality services to the really blessed ones – high and drunk, and who would knock on the cupboard to enter The Mansion. Recent news have reported that a key, some coins, wax matches, and a 5-star were found in the deep crevices between the cushions of the couch. True to tradition, The Mansion holds lot of secrets.

I have seen a lot of exciting days in The Mansion:

Monday highs (Because there was a power cut from 9 pm onwards),
Tuesday highs (Because the weather was beautiful),
Wednesday highs (Because my IISc friend had finished his test and was happy it was over),
Thursday highs (Because one of our college juniors was in town and needed a night’s stay),
Friday highs (Because it is a Friday)
Saturday highs (Need i say)
Sunday Highs (-ditto)

Well, it would take almost an year again to describe the experience that The Mansion is. And needless to say, the credit goes to the Homies. A band of egoless, fun-loving, wonderful human beings who loved everything from keeping the Mansion like a pig sty to working for 5 hours at a stretch washing and scrubbing it clean.

Here they are, in no particular order: (The original inhabitants and the ones that graced the Mansion occasionally – 6 days a week, i.e):

Ozz/Ozzy – a.k.a adarsh
Sam/Sammy/Samba – a.k.a samyam
Chaddi – a.k.a vadhi
Goti – a.k.a Gautham
Tushy – a.k.a Tushar
Tommy/Tomba – a.k.a Thomas
Raj – a.k.a Raj
Sand/Sandy – a.k.a Sandeep
Suze/Suzy – a.k.a Sushant
Nitin – a.k.a Nitin sir

This post was to just tell them – You guys rock!!

P.S : I may have missed a few others. I apologise for the loss of memory.

Shootout of "Brainwala"!!

Posted on by caniwrite
5

In case you’re wondering, no, Brainwala is not a long-lost brother from the Kumbh Mela to the other more famous holders of the “wala” part of the surname. Nope, I was not talking about Doodhwala or Paperwala either. They are not surnames you stupid.

I was talking about Daruwala (The most famous being Bejan Daruwala) and Baltiwala (I distinctly remember I have seen that surname somewhere).

Which brings me to a joke I just made up -
What would happen if a Daruwala guy were to marry a Baltiwala girl?

A number of things. For e.g:
1.The girl’s side family would shed bucketful of tears when she’s leaving her home.
2.The guy’s friends would give him a bachelor’s party where they would have daru in baltis.
3.The guy’s family and all his relatives would get free buckets as marriage gifts. Dowry buckets they would be called.
4. Nobody would ever kick the bucket. Because its free, and it contains daru.

If you have other more innovative answers, please feel free to comment at my blog. i.e, if you manage to reach the end.
(For the non-hindi speaking peoples, The Daru = Alcohol and The Balti = Bucket)

Anyways, what I had started to blog out, was about a certain movie called “Shootout at Lokhandwala”, released last Friday, based on a famous shoot-out which occurred in Mumbai in the 90s and which killed 5 well-known gangsters of the Dawood gang. It was supposedly a bloody gun-battle which, though gave the Mumbai Police a much needed impetus to their fight against the under-world, but also gave them a lot of flak for their actions. An exciting premise isn’t it?

And this is exactly why I decided to watch this movie. A quick call to one of my office friends – one of those I seem to make in a jiffy…the kinds who’s eyes twinkle, tongues roll up and let out a knowing smile at the sight and sound of anything resembling alcohol. Please don’t get me wrong. This happens only on Fridays and Saturdays. My mother is staying with me here. Dry days have become the norm for me.

Anyways, so we went for the last show, thinking that watching it late night would provide a fitting context for such a dark sub-plot. However, I must add, the multiplex was quite colorful, which almost distracted us from concentrating on the mood of the film. Keeping our focus, we went inside. In fact, we weren’t even talking to each other. Oh! No wait, we were on our cell phones talking. I was telling my mother I would be late. And he was talking to his wife.

So, anyways, without further ado, beating around the bush and any such further idiotic idioms aimed only at confusing the literate, let me get to the point – I still do not remember where I saw the Baltiwala surname!!

Oops!! Sorry, that was not it. Here it goes:

“Shootout at Lokhandwala” is a movie which had a powerful plot to back it up; a plot which has seen the likes of Satya, Company, and Sarkar. But it starts and ends in a painful mish-mash of scenes and characters which seem to be embroiled in the director’s attempt to show too many sides to a simple premise – that of 5 gangsters being shot in a daring encounter by 3 brave officers of the Mumbai Police.

It starts with compelling images of thousands of bullets, ammunition and blood lying on the ground, being swept with a broomstick at the, now upmarket, Lokhandwala Complex, Andheri and with Dia Mirza doing a report, post the killing. Following which we are taken to an interrogation of the 3 officers (Sanjay Dutt, Suniel Shetty and Arbaaz Khan) by a senior lawyer, played by Amitabh Bachchan.

And this interrgation takes us to the story of the 5 gangster-characters, 3 of whom played by TV actors, while the other 2 – Vivek Oberoi and (hear, hear) Tushar Kapoor.

Now, we all know what Vivek Oberoi can do with a gangster’s role. And here, he almost lives upto it, except that he overdoes it. Maya Dolas, his character, was supposedly one who used to leverage people’s fear of the underworld for the crimes he committed. Hence, Vivek had to “taak Maya, waak Maya, eat Maya and drink Maya”. And he does all that, and too much of it.

But I did not mind it, because a character like Maya Dolas would not be known to us, unless:

1. One is in the underworld, which none of us are.
(The only word which we would have used as frequently and which sounds like underworld would be underwear. But we’ll leave that aside. The word, i.e)…or
2. One is a close relative or friend to Maya Dolas, which again points us to point no 1….or
3. One was involved in the shoot-out then, which could mean either we needed to be in the police or, again point no 1. OR
4. One is watching this movie and gets to know about Maya Dolas.

Hence, Q.E.D – Vivek Oberoi does whatever he could, to bring us this character. Apparently, in an interview, he said that he had done a lot of research for this role. Now, if only he had acted as less as he did his research, maybe things would have been better.

But what is beyond a sane mind’s comprehension, is the fact that Tushar Kapoor plays a supposedly psychotic shooter, right hand man to Maya Dolas and obsessively in love with a bar dancer!!!

I do not know much about cinema, but I can say with absolutely no doubt, that just by dressing up somebody in dirty jeans, a gun visibly tucked away at the back, a black see-through baniyan, an open-buttoned shirt, a french-cut beard and an opening shot where he smashes up a guy’s hand because he touches the love of his life, one cannot turn a romantic hero, into a dreaded Mumbai gangster!!
C,mon man! This is the same hero who ran from one high-rise to another looking for his babe, and then later goes into a jungle to croon “Mujhe kuch Kehnaa hai”!!

The only people who went psychotic were me and a lot of others in the theater when we saw him in a scene, supposedly laughing like a psycho at another man being thrown off a building!! I could have jumped out of the theater for chrissake!!

Anyways. Even if all this were bearable, how can a movie, based on a true shooting incident even dare to think that their leading gangsters would dance in sync to a daru song? Corny aint it?
Not only to a daru song, but all the other songs which were shot at a dance bar. Maybe it was to depict that these guys used to frequent such places and indulged in all vices with absolutely no regret or a sense of morality. But of all things, sync dancing to show this?

Indian Cinema seems to find novel ways to entertain its audiences.

And amidst all this chaos, we have other wonderfully crafted scenes and characters:
1. A police officer, Arbaaz Khan, speaking impeccable English and Hindi and constantly piques his partner Suniel Shetty whenever he mouths some expletives. It provided some forceful funny moments, but now, we were watching a real-life incident of a shoot-out, weren’t we?

2. One of the gangsters starts seeing ghosts of the family he had erroneously killed once. This he starts seeing as we reach the climax and the shoot-out almost begins. Premonition was it? Hmm…

3. The police and the gangsters are firing each other with all kinds of ammunition, including rocket launchers. Yet, the 5 guys take out the time to call their respective families and lovers, show emotion and fire back at the police in rage!!

Maybe it was to show that these gangsters were after all human. Now, we all know that they certainly did not land from outer space. They were human beings and gangsters.
So whats the need for such melodrama?
A bigger question – with all the firing and blasts, phone lines were still working…HOW IT IS I SAY?

Well, I could go on like this. And the more I think about it, the more saddened I feel about the 3 brave officers who risked their lives to kill the gangsters. Now, I shall leave the debate of human rights, etc to people who can speak on it. I shall stick to what I can talk on.

When one makes a movie on controversial incidents involving such brave people, and who are still alive, doesn’t it behoove the film-makers to do their homework better and put in a more concerted effort at maintaining reality as close to what it was? I think it does.

And this was the only conclusion my friend and I could come to, as we came out to a cool Pune night for a drive back.

The only shoot-out that happened for real that evening was of my brain. Which lay splattered amidst the 150 Rs I paid for this mindless mayhem.

And I can see one more. Yours’. On this blogpage.

Yeh kya pakarela hai bhai…Khopche mein leke doon kya isko kaan ke niche…

Or Bata..

Posted on by caniwrite
12

…no, I was not comparing shoe brands. I was referring to the most commonly used words in a virtual conversation, be it on instant messenger chats, over the phone, or nowadays, even on Orkut.

By the way, looking at how people use the Orkut scrapbook as a virtual chat room, Google has integrated Gtalk with it. I always thought Orkut was a great tool for social networking, but now its probably changed skin to social “chatworking”!

Anyways,coming to the point at hand, have you ever faced a situation when you were talking over the phone / chatting with somebody, you do not have much to say, the person at the other end too does not have much to talk about, and you keep exchanging pleasantries in the form of these 2 words – “Aur Bataa” ?

I have. Many times. Well, I am not much of a psycho-analyst in the field of social behaviour as far as the 2 sexes are concerned, but I guess it happens with most people who generally cannot do normal talk. I could have used the non-political phrase – small talk, but being the single gentleman I am, I do not want to offend the fairer sex. I cannot bear to be unfair to them.

However, I do not wish to come across as an MCP as well and will, with all fairness to the fairer sex, say that we men also indulge in small talk and gossip. But then, its a statistic that the average woman talks about 20,000 words daily, while a man only 7,000.
Now, you can do the calculations, but how much can one gossip in only 7,000 words?
On the other hand, does it mean that man is not the average human being..?…hmm…

Anyways, I have digressed again. Well, it so happened that at one of our tea sessions in the office, my friend and I were talking about this “chat characteristic”, and how difficult it can be to continue a conversation, especially when its not a close buddy of yours’.

Wouldn’t you feel like the lowest parasitic scum of the earth, when after an hour’s talk, which would (depending upon the gender of the person involved) typically range from getting to know each other’s diurnal activities and scheduled nocturnal activities, to analysing the latest fall-out of the Hrithik-Ash kissing scene, to discussing career, work and marriage plans, to talking about the latest gadget, to discussing the vital ‘statuses’ of the girl/guy-next-cubicle, to bitching about your manager, to deciding about the next booze session and so on, the person at the other end, without a care for human emotions, nonchalantly asks “Aur bataa” ??!!

It certainly gets me a little tensed, irritatingly amused, and totally bored (Yes! all 3)!! There could be quite a few reasons, the more prominent ones being:

  • I would have exhausted all that I wanted to say. But since the onus to continue the conversation is on me, I need to make use of whatever is left of my brains.
  • The person at the other end does not really care what I say as long as he/she can put the nail-polish properly or ogle at Pamela Anderson do her stuff on Baywatch!
  • The person does not really want to talk to me, but wants to carry on for courtesy reasons. However, at the first hint, such as “nothing much yaar”, you would hear a quick “bye” and a click.
  • The person REALLY wants to know everything about whats happening in my life. Which augurs well if the other person is of the fairer one . However, you can never really takpoint no. 2 and 3 out of the equation.

Of course, to make your life worse, “aur bataa” has different variants which can wreak havoc in these typical shapes and sizes.

  • Aur bol…
  • Aur bolo…
  • Kuchh Khaas..?
  • What else man..
  • And what else…
  • Aur..?
  • Aur batao…

Till date I have not been able to find a counter-strike which can throw the proverbial ball on to the other side of the court. It’s usually been a prolonged silence coupled with a blank look, or a delay in reply inviting a “Buzz!!” followed by a lame line ” oh sorry, got disconnected..” or the slightly encouraging “aahh…well…“.

But I was able to counter this once. I replied “Tu bataa yaar” with gusto, thinking that it would atleast put off the other person and would end the talk. The proverbial ball came at a speed which left me reeling! She replied ” arre yaar, we’ve been talking for the past one hour, I have told you everything and I cant talk anymore! Chal bye!” Click.

Justifying my name..

Posted on by caniwrite
5

Ok, I admit. I read the sun-sign forecasts in the morning newspaper, but thats one of the many things I read when I am, in what I call the state of “extreme happiness tending to nirvana” (commonly referred to, by you common people, as “the loo”).

I normally don’t believe in Tarot cards, but could not resist from taking this test.
By the way, I found it quite eerie that the Tarot card coincided with the meaning of my name. I think I am an alien after all!!

Click here to find out what card you are.

You are The Hermit

Prudence, Caution, Deliberation.

The Hermit points to all things hidden, such as knowledge and inspiration,hidden enemies. The illumination is from within, and retirement from participation in current events.

The Hermit is a card of introspection, analysis and, well, virginity. You do not desire to socialize; the card indicates, instead, a desire for peace and solitude. You prefer to take the time to think, organize, ruminate, take stock. There may be feelings of frustration and discontent but these feelings eventually lead to enlightenment, illumination, clarity.

The Hermit represents a wise, inspirational person, friend, teacher, therapist. This a person who can shine a light on things that were previously mysterious and confusing.

A straight drive..

Posted on by caniwrite
7

Call me a cynic, an anti-feminist, a prude, or whatever you choose to, but I firmly believe that spaghetti straps, TV actors and tarot cards will never replace crisp, analytical and incisive commentary.

Lot of water has passed under the bridge, debates taken place, and lot of theories claiming that it is good for the upbringing of women’s cricket in India. True, I am all for it. We can always add to the cliche – Cricket is a “Ladies’ and Gentlemen’s game”!!

But I think its time they understood that we no longer like to see TV/wannabe film actors/actresses jumping on their seat, wanting to ask (for the tenth time in the same match) about the dew factor, and then proclaiming that they know quite a bit about cricket!! Let the Diana Eduljees say it, and we shall believe it!

Though the first ODI between India and South Africa was drizzle-washed,and the second was a “Kallistrophe”, it was heartening to see the good old ESPN blokes come to talk about what they do best – talk cricket. The official team of Harsha Bhogle and Alan Wilkins, with other “gurus” like Ravi Shastri, Geoffrey Boycott, Sunil Gavaskar, Navjot Sidhu and a few other guest commentators make for a formidable word-machine.

Ravi Shastri remains very economical, non-flamboyant, choosing to concentrate on the technicalities of the match. On the other hand , Gavaskar has a wry sense of humour, a knack for harmless mischief and sarcasm which can go easily unnoticed, but never fails to make the point. Add to all this, his prodigious memory, and we have a cracker!

Then again we have the celebrated knight, Sir Geoffrey Boycott, in his white straw hat and colourful shirts. He’s unstoppable on his day, and can give quite a run for the English pudding, when it comes to witticisms. A thorough gentleman, he’s one entertainer!

Enter Navjot Singh Sidhu with his word-spins(Siddhuisms), pleated turban, suit, a matching tie, and we have the “tadka” on the strange concoction we already have! When he’s on the mike, he transforms into the philosophical joker, doling out words of wisdom in his very own inimitable style, unlike what we’ve seen of him on the field. ” The style is the man” observed the French Literary critic Buffon. We would not disagree on that.

And stringing them all, is the ever suave Harsha Bhogle, who always manages to come up with obscure statistics and events.

Emotion,bursts of adrenalin and edge of the seat entertainment replaces all rationale when it comes to cricket, and I am no different. Right from the pitch report, to the end of match review, the one thing which can match up to Sachin’s fluent straight drives or Dravid’s defence or Gilchrist’s hammering, is the cricket commentary.

And nothing, not even Mandira Bedi’s spaghetti straps, or meaningless calisthenics of reading tarot cards to predict the result or stupid “who’s the best cricket fan” games, can convince me of the marriage between cricket and entertainment, which they so shamelessly claim to do.

Cricket is entertainment enough – I dont need a promo of Dhoom2 happening to give me a high, prior to a match. Show me a few of Sachin’s straight drives, or Andre Nel’s histrionics, and I shall be comfortably numb for the rest of the game!

While at the topic of histrionics, one incident would rank at the top of every cricket lover’s mind – Ganguly swaying his shirt at the Natwest Series , after India won a nailbiting final in 2002.

He’s on a comeback trail, and he would need to do more than using his shirt to attract attention. Rationale would probably argue that its going to be very difficult for him, even though there’s a change in the selection committee (with Dilip Vengsarkar), but the pseudo-bong in me would hope he makes a comeback, and make us drool over his silken square drives.

Well, there will be a lot of cricket being played (Ashes has started already) , till the World Cup. I just hope I dont see too much of chiffon sarees, huge earrings, stupid giggles and moronic analysis from actors claiming to be cricket analysts!!

I am back…

Posted on by caniwrite
1

Nope. I am not doing a la Arnie. I am just back from a brief love affair with her.

I was so enamoured by her presence, her grace, and her sophistication, that I thought I was in love with her. She was a template for the kind of lover I always wanted.

But then simplicity and sophistication haven’t been good sleeping partners. Compatibility is the keyword for a relationship to sustain. Flexibility is no more a fashionable word used by the marriage-shrinks. Its a fact which we cannot evade-its right there in front of our eyes. And when you do not have these, a love affair can never go beyond a mere dream of what it could have been.

Hence, the heart-breaking decision to step away from her. Mind you, it is not a step back. Change, it would seem, was but a figment of my imagination. I need more time. So till then, adieu!.

Blogger to WordPress…

Posted on by caniwrite
3

Ah! I suspect this is going to take a little more time than I thought.

I cannot import my blogs from Blogspot to WordPress because the import option does not allow me to do it from the Blogger Beta version.

There is a potential workaround by using the RSS feed, but Blogger beta would give only Atom feed. However, if you view your page in IE7, it gives both Atom as well as RSS feed.

And once you have the XML file saved, supposedly, you can use the Manage –> Import –> WordPress option to upload the XML file.

I have not been able to try it out, because I am not allowed to install IE7 at this point in time, but if anybody there has done it, please let me know. I shall buy you a chocolate!

How I wish I was with old Blogger… :(..*sigh

Nonetheless, I shall figure out some way to do that. Hail Google!