Saturday, September 25, 2010

Masculine adrenaline is back to the business…




Without any rubbish brouhaha, let me come to the point. This is it; this is what I was possibly waiting for about 20 odd years.
The dusky and husky, the hot and humid, the man with ultimate macho, the courageous panther, the lone cow boy of Panama is back.
Above lines never mean that I am a blind fan of the THING I am going to describe. This only means that I had cards in a game of poker and I was sitting pretty confident on there value. But here this THING came up and turned me in to Sania Mirza 2009. OK, call it Shoiab Malik 2009; it won’t affect the performance an inch.
This THING is called DABANGG.         
Let me be very honest and tell you that I do not have a taste for real life movies, pertaining to any of the following two reasons you may like to choose;
Those who respect me, they must understand that I do not want to see real life trauma even if they are true and sensible. Earning 50 bucks panting hard like a pig and spending it again to see other pigs sweating is a NONSENSE offense for me.
Yuckkkk!!!! Do you respect me anyway? I am sure you do not.
And if you do not respect, you may wisely call me a fool to write me off the cards. You may well put me in the category of himbo-bimbo of the town. Trust me; I will not mind a penny loosing 700 grams from upstairs if you really feel so. I cannot help anyways, even if I mind. Oh, can I?
Be it any of the two reasons, I simply do not like realistic and sad movies. I do not like Karan-Johar’s New York, Los Angeles movies either. A guy merely 21 getting a Limousine to roam all around Rome with her “here she comes from blue and blushing heaven” girlfriend and still call himself struggler and panauti.
Now, you must not be knowing what a panauti is? It literally means a person who is extremely unlucky and discarded by the lord of fate. Yeah, exactly like you and me. Aren’t we extremely genius at crying and cursing?
The two reasons may sound a little vacillating to each other but where as first category gives an additional bath under the daily problem shower the second kills us by trauma of impossible future disaster.
Mind it; I am not a tissue paper boy whose mother rolls over an ice cube over his face EVEN INSIDE A CENTRALLY AC MALL. No offense to the “whose rags are costlier than my riches” kids but come on; I do not find it of my world.
Come on! Not whole Macau and Malaysia is dying for my six-packs even if I earn then some how. Why would I marry a girl by love at first sight?
Aaragghhhhhh!!!! First sight… huhh. Ugly!
And then why would people get separated just for “who cooks better spinach” kind of reason?
Anyway, I am not criticizing any of the multiplex genres of movies and moviemakers, not the intellect viewers.
Did I say intellect? Did I? I really hate this word to the core of my élan-vital.
Having said that, there mustn’t go any indication that I like any of the filth Chakrabotry and Shetty movies. That is sheer violence and complete BULLSHIT!
Anyway, let me cut this crap and come to the movie.
Based on a probable easily seen plot in a small town of Utter Pradesh (I can smell it) the story has nothing new to offer.
I said it; you read it, absolutely right!! Nothing, exactly nothing.
But tell me honestly, the bread and rice which you consume daily, does it have anything new to offer? Still, that is an essence, a charm and a charisma (if I can please use this term).
The movie has no story, no plot, no huge sets, not more than 4 minutes of outside shooting, no exposing actors, no rain dance, no love triangle, no struggle for existence but the movie has CHULBUL PANDEY!!!!
The very second you start thinking to think that this will now go ashtray, the fearless hunk comes and lo and behold, movie turns to a magic hat.
He fights, he laughs, he dances, he shows off, he loves, he hates, he respects, he accepts bribe and he does all this living on the edge. And this sanguine hero overpowers one and all. And the style is inimitable.
The clean shaved man with sharp moustaches looks great in his perfect tailored formals and walks like a royal lion. Ehh, you do not like it?? Sorry, you are not meant to know what DABANGG means.
This movie gives no false promises as RAAVAN did. It is indeed a story of DABANGG policeman from UP.
This movie does not show false idealism as 3 IDIOTS did. This is a true heroism when HCL only burns bad guys.
The movie is not irritating like HOUSEFULL. Why did Sajid named it HOUSEFULL, wufffffff!!
The movie claims to be a complete entertainment and it offers more, like any advertising product does and we still doubt over them. The end result is bad for us only.
The excellent music is piquant both for songs and for background. Who can deny the sweetness of Rahat Fateh Ali saahab’stere mast mast do nain”? My favorite being the title track…”Hud hud dabangg
Seen the awesome belt dance step? No!!
You surely missed something then.
I am not talking about the most famous track though. I can not help myself being a Malaika hater. Though the music seems nice.
There are other characters but can not be judged as they have nothing to do when ROBINHOOD casts a sensational spell every now and then.
But it is important to mention Sonu Sood who has come ages with Chedi Singh.
Every second Salman appears (or Chulbul, actually Salman is no where in the movie) is a must watch for everyone. I mean everyone, a fan will turn in to a wind mill and a critic will ask for a membership of the fan club.
Anyone who discards the movie or dislikes it (after watching) must be having one or the other preoccupation about something or the other related to the movie.
To sum up, as Arbaaz correctly said, this is the first time he did something for Salman, I would rather say, Salman has done something for himself for the first time all over these years.

The roaring lion is back and we will be spell bound for ages, at least I am and that too with happiness.
HUD HUD DABANGG!!!!!!!!!!!
NOTE: This is no Salman movie, this is strictly ROBINHOOD’s movie… oopss, ROBINHOOD PANDEY’s movie………. Go grab it “becaaz there iz aalwez a phast chance, and there iz aalwez a next chance.”
It is not late yet.
And yes, keep your goggles at the back!!!!!!!!!

Monday, September 6, 2010

Of Momo’s, chapattis, chats, and life in a metro…




“Mother, I am done with the breakfast. Got to rush now.”
“Kid! Just hold on for a second. The curd cheese is almost done. Have a couple of spoons and go.”
“Kid!!! Huh Maa! I’m 13 now, will be taking boards this year. Anyway, stuff this in to the younger kid today. He is quite skinny. If left over, I’ll gulp all on returning back from the game.”
Ruko…suno to beta…”
“What now mom! Relax. Take a chill pill.” Chill Pill!!!!!! Did I say that?
O really, I said that.
Bollywood teaches a number of witty locutions but we are probably not up to cast them sagaciously.

Ever seen a six years old kid doing BOTTOMS UP?
Now don’t sell me that how so ever grisly, it looks cute coz the kid has a puerile sweetness.
You ain’t a Rocket Singh for Christ sake, are you?
Even if you are, I’ve recently run bankrupt and can’t afford a penny for any of your antics.
Days and years passed and for all those Jesse Ryder – Umar Gul days, I took my mother for granted. Every one of us does.
We take earth, water, sun, rivers, parents and to a Herculean extent our anger and youth for granted, as if they would never fall, never show down, never question back.

By the way, for NON-NON INDIAN CRICKET FOLLOWERS, Jesse Ryder and Umar Gul are two very talented but extremely injury prone cricket players belonging to New Zealand and Pakistan respectively.

Still, during my college days I never felt that people may come so far, that distant from their roots.
It’s been recently that I discovered; A banyan leaf may well fall in an utterly different land. Ironically, today I see most of them falling away. The bucolic wind has surely if not suddenly changed to a tornado.

I landed (?) over this rusty brainwasher planet on July 11th, 2008 for reasons as obvious as breathing.
Pardon my usage of words in the above statement. No personal offence to any of Kunti’s sons despite whatever happened during Mahabharat, I feel sorry for coming and staying here.
This has been the only city/place/village/jungle (Damn!!! include Under Ground mines) which has given nothing but a peevish taste to every gland/sense of mine.
I therefore happen to visit the place I like but living in a place where you would last favor to, is called LANDING there.
Trapped in my own cob web of life.

People here do not gather, do not talk. Why?
A sullen excuse (like you have just discovered that 3 rats died in the best cookie box of yours) is that they (We) do not get time.
TIME!!

Time has swollen for Gtalk chats.
Time has up surged for Her/His FB visits.
Time has aggrandized in CCDs and Baristas sipping goddamn Cold coffee and ice teas over that garlic bread.
Time has found a new friend in whatever profuse over PVR every sick Friday.

Ask Bharti Airtel, Vodafone and Ambanis who are creaming money like anything, and they will tell you what is the average number of hours (You read it right, it’s hours) the so called ambitious and multi-talented youth of this GOING-TO-BE-SUPERPOWER country smoke over the phone.
And be assured that except one (hail one of my dear friends) no one use even ten percent of it for complete family combined.
Some fools still say and believe that in India we have large families. Misers, losers like me.

Still, it is not the fault of our cool studs and newbie divas. Someone must have made the day a little longer for them and lo and behold, they would have made a Rockies out of every mole.

Waking up just a blink before sunset and flickering the loathsomely dressed body to the beats of “Porcupine Tree” till moon says “Hasta la vista baby” is the new art of living.
They however do not understand that moon still is their “mama(uncle)” and laugh at them calling them baby.

No bad blood with the famous music band, I still feel that human race is a social animal and hence can not gulp a sudden Argon like behavior. And that too just towards…… (I need not fill this.)

Living on the edge as does our “Tyler Durden” in FIGHT CLUB, is the COOL FUNDA for the Mountain Dew soaked emotional and wiz generation.

But to be extremely truthful and sorry, I do not see any hope in this young brigade. They simply looks like a filthy bunch of talented geese that shows off, fights among them and dies no where.
And I am not talking about the physical world anyways.

It is not the making and caring for new relationships that hurt, it is the blight it brings to the existing ones that discomforts.

It is not the late night talking to the opposite sex peers that aches; it is the switching off of the phone when mother calls up in the morning after completing a hard fought fast just to hear your voice that pains.

It is not the scooping of momo’s and burger that discomforts, it is the memory of the days when you quitted the same cabbage your mother cooked that persecutes.

It is not the sum of money you spent on your father that matters, it is the share which was always more than cent percent from him that pains.

Love is not what we find in “Keith”. Love is not what we find in Oliver’s “Love Story”. It is not even in “DDLJ”.
Love is in your mom’s heart which never gets to learn when you have become YOU from “A PART OF HER”.

Someone once said, “It is easy to find love. It is even easier to learn how to love. But it is almost impossible to keep the love.”

This city alleviate this reaction as if it is a catalyst………..burning us inside us.
Or probably, I do not fit here. May be I have a small town, one old mentality.
In any case, I love to be this way, near to my current relationships. I do not find solace it growing ten new twigs at the cost of my oldest and most precious branch and root.

I will hold pride in being known as a small town backward buffoon than being a parasitic flower.

One of the famous poets (I do not remember the name) once said:

Jitne roj ghar ko nahi lautaa main,
Maa dua se uthi nahi log kahte hain.

Translation:
People say that mother was continuously in prayers for the period I did not returned home. 

At 6:30 AM in the morning eating bread slices…..Mom, I really miss your chapattis….

Having said that, if this is it………….Hail Small Townmanship!!!!!!