No, don't get fidgety, he said to himself while stroking his Adam's apple, a habit he developed so long back, he did not remember when. He figured that it was his reflexive attachment to anything that came out to alleviate his woes just about in time. He'd always remember staring at everyone else's throats in school and wondering why they had this sharp thing protruding unlike his perfectly smooth neck. He smiled to himself. He was careful never to ask anyone about that. Not after all the jokes made at other parts of his that were perfectly smooth too. It did not amuse him that having something dangling between your legs couldn't matter less if you were not all hairy and grizzly. Made him recall a rather funny word his grandpa used and wonder how that made him more of a man and not a bear. He learnt to be sort of a misfit and he found it endearing about himself. You're chocolaty, they envy you. So he told himself. The whole thing made him laugh. And it calmed him every time. Not today though.
He looked at his watch again. "So I'll be there by six", well thats what she said. Fifteen minutes past six, he found himself alone and screaming at his scientific calculator Asio, "Where is she then?". He suddenly had this oddly unsettling image of all his chocolatiness melting away into a puddle. It made beepy noises as if wanting to say, "How should I know?", clearly disliking being screamed at. Asio knew him very well having been with him for so long. Atleast it would have if it were capable of thought. Asio was actually a Casio, originally purchased by his father as a gift for his cousin. It however never made it to the cousin as he ran away from school, a story no one bothered to explain to him in full. So he ended up with the device, ten years later. With the C almost worn out, Asio was the obsolete thing he punched his numbers into while it merrily beeped at being finally put to use. And that to his misfortune attracted a lot of unpleasant stares. The beeps never went, and neither did the stares. He sometimes seriously contemplated 'gifting' Asio to his cousin's child and laughing villainously while the kid became the butt of all the stares. But all hopes of revenge were shattered; the kid was still in first grade. Damn kid, he thought, for not possessing a superhuman IQ or the ability to age at will. So unfair. Asio did not have an auto power off which meant he had to replace batteries countless number of times. It was almost like 'maintaining' a girlfriend except that in his case it wasn't a girl. It was a frigging calculator. As this thought came to him, Asio beeped him the finger. And before he could shake off his hyper imagination or retaliate, she arrived.
Finally, he sighed in relief. She wasn't there on a date. Even if he wanted to believe it was one. She needed help with some course work, and he was good at it. He also happened to be around and offer help when she was looking for some. It thrilled him so much to think of her being there and even if all he was going to do (no pun) was get into her (again, no pun) some solutions to columns and buckling and failure and other things she did not understand. But only until then. Right from the moment she arrived he was smitten. It made him so uncomfortable that he held his bladder tight just to have something to do. And also to keep him in his senses and from not drifting away into whatever escapades of romantic nature his hyper imaginative mind would lead him. "Nice calculator". He returned to this world with a confused "Uh what?" and added quickly but rather sheepishly "Oh, it was my Dad's", trying not to look embarrassed. The whole time she spent with him, he only looked at her and admired at how beautiful she looked curled up with some books and his calculator (apart from holding his bladder that is). Asio, that lucky piece of trash, he thought to himself. It did not deter him that his sinisterly intelligent plan to procure her phone number fell flat in its face. All he got instead was a smile. That radiant million watt smile was totally worth it. Asio beeped wickedly as she keyed in something while he burned in envy and the ignominy of his namesake girlfriend beating the might out of any prospects he had at a real one. Just as he swore to never replace the batteries again, she got up to leave. He rose too, sulking at an uneventful evening and walked her to the door, to say good bye. He got to see her walk away, boy he did, but it still was disheartening. "And yes, I forgot to turn your calculator off", she smiled yet again just as she was leaving. With a heavy heart he walked back to his bed searching for any fragrant remains of her presence and picked up that traitorous old mate asio. And for the first time that day he smiled.
He smiled with all his heart, while not imagining anything for once, secretly thanking Asio for not having an auto power-off, his cousin for running away from school, and the kid for lacking superpowers and being just as dumb as was fit for his age.
On the calculator's screen were the ten most beautiful digits to be ever written in digital ink - 98403 33500.
May be I should get Asio some new batteries, he thought out aloud.
Friday, November 23, 2007
Thursday, November 15, 2007
What's Koken?!
Note: What follows is a compilation of raw statements that scurried across my head after the first time I read the article in question. This was supposed to be only an initial draft written more out of rage and outrage than anything else. There were larger and more important things to be addressed; which lost their way in time. I post this in all hope that reading this will simulate in you the feelings I felt and help you realise all or some of what I now consider lost.
"O.Doren, a filmmaker based in India" says the footnote (The article can be found here).
Oniam Doren, one would have to strain their eyes looking through a myspace homepage cluttered with ads images and text to find the name. Now that its finally found, does it ring a bell? No?
Composer and producer of a music album (Koken) ..
Directed a short film that garnered appreciation from critics and audiences alike..
Does it now? No?
Phony, you'd think. You're right though. He claims to have made popular music albums and short films. These are obviously little known, and that is just a polite way of saying they're completely unknown. Is your face screwed up in mild seriousness not knowing what to say? The word you're looking for is Spurious. Yet, he is the man who considers himself qualified enough to write an article about Bollywood, and adorning his opening lines are many variations and equivalents of the word unoriginal including phony and spurious. Unbelievable and uncalled for, dont you think? And his name, though unheard of, is anglicised enough to have his article published on another little known website (Note that he chooses not to use the words "an Indian filmmaker").
Next he calls Bollywood a simulated pirated version of Hollywood. His exact words being "a simulated pirated version of Hollywood". Apparently not too familiar with the workings of Hollywood, Mr.Doren doesn't dwelve into the simulation part of it. He makes a preposterous assumption- the two names rhyme and that suffices to make his statement logically sound. But he does exercise his prized possession, his pea sized brain, furthermore by elaborating the piracy part. His elucidation of piracy is threefold.
The first is one that everyone is familiar with, one that exists in any movie business in any part of the world, one that is not part of the film industry in any way- the sale of pirated discs. Not only does he wrongly associate piracy with the industry but encounts some of his experiences with the pirated disc vendors, at one point actually thanking them for providing him with cheap access.
First he calls something names and then thanks the thing for its supposed shortcomings, not only is he implying that he is a moron but also adding that he has no clue of what he is discussing. He also admits to having bought a yet-to-be-released movie from a vendor and then 'discovering' that it played nothing but weird noises. The vendor must have seen how stupid Doren is since he managed to hook him up with not one but two such fake discs. No wonder he's mad, blaming it on his intelligence and judgement or rather the lack of them would be just too hard.
After this the 'author' completely loses track. According to him, the second kind of piracy is plagiarism. This unoriginal presumptuous scam of a writer wants us to think that he's making a big revelation letting us know that some music compositions and scripts are borrowed from movies of foreign origin (why is it a hollywood simulation if Bheja Fry is a French film's remake) without acknowledgements, royalties or due credits. Again, this is only partly true and the airhead has no idea what he's talking about. Stories are copied all the time and with or without acknowledgements some people will still call it 'piracy', and this is definitely not something specific to the Hindi film industry. Same applies to music but does he even realise how much of Indian music is used and abused by the West in their loud and crass compositions with the only references to their origin being sarcastic and made for some bad humour? And why just this, he'll be blissfully ignorant of many other components of our heritage like medicinal herbs or crops (for instance) that have been renamed and patented by Big Uncle America. It'd be asking too much of his nonexistant cerebrum to comprehend the meaning and weight of important facts like these before doling out half-baked self-fabricated facts.
As if he hasn't made enough of a fool of himself already, his last kind of piracy is of body parts(!). As always, without being even mildly concerned with facts, reports of a few actresses not having paid their surgeons leads him to believe that the transplants are pirated(!) (It doesn't matter if there could be a teeny chance that the claims are false). At this point he gulps down that pea inside his thick skull and digresses at will, occasionally taking digs at famous people. FYI Doren, everyone does know about the singer's reason for wearing a cap, his balding condition and more importantly his popularity (unlike yours). He's rich, successful and famous and, unfortunately for you, a style icon for many. As of October 15, if you can even think that Partner is a successfully running movie, you're just giving away how pitifully distant you are from cinema let alone from spreading gyaan on the industry's workings. The last lines are about how Moserbaer and others are now selling DVDs at cheap prices. This is just a feeble attempt to redeem some lost pride; he should have for once bought a disc that actually does play a movie, and not some weird noises.
PS: Do look at the tackily done picture (that he 'pirates' from DON) accompanying the page full of nonsense, point at it and laugh till Doren can hear us and drop from traumatising shame. One Doren less is a better place for all of us and the movie industry as well, even if it means less business for the duping scheming pirated disc vendors who feed on the very existance of such beings incapable of logical thought.
"O.Doren, a filmmaker based in India" says the footnote (The article can be found here).
Oniam Doren, one would have to strain their eyes looking through a myspace homepage cluttered with ads images and text to find the name. Now that its finally found, does it ring a bell? No?
Composer and producer of a music album (Koken) ..
Directed a short film that garnered appreciation from critics and audiences alike..
Does it now? No?
Phony, you'd think. You're right though. He claims to have made popular music albums and short films. These are obviously little known, and that is just a polite way of saying they're completely unknown. Is your face screwed up in mild seriousness not knowing what to say? The word you're looking for is Spurious. Yet, he is the man who considers himself qualified enough to write an article about Bollywood, and adorning his opening lines are many variations and equivalents of the word unoriginal including phony and spurious. Unbelievable and uncalled for, dont you think? And his name, though unheard of, is anglicised enough to have his article published on another little known website (Note that he chooses not to use the words "an Indian filmmaker").
Next he calls Bollywood a simulated pirated version of Hollywood. His exact words being "a simulated pirated version of Hollywood". Apparently not too familiar with the workings of Hollywood, Mr.Doren doesn't dwelve into the simulation part of it. He makes a preposterous assumption- the two names rhyme and that suffices to make his statement logically sound. But he does exercise his prized possession, his pea sized brain, furthermore by elaborating the piracy part. His elucidation of piracy is threefold.
The first is one that everyone is familiar with, one that exists in any movie business in any part of the world, one that is not part of the film industry in any way- the sale of pirated discs. Not only does he wrongly associate piracy with the industry but encounts some of his experiences with the pirated disc vendors, at one point actually thanking them for providing him with cheap access.
First he calls something names and then thanks the thing for its supposed shortcomings, not only is he implying that he is a moron but also adding that he has no clue of what he is discussing. He also admits to having bought a yet-to-be-released movie from a vendor and then 'discovering' that it played nothing but weird noises. The vendor must have seen how stupid Doren is since he managed to hook him up with not one but two such fake discs. No wonder he's mad, blaming it on his intelligence and judgement or rather the lack of them would be just too hard.
After this the 'author' completely loses track. According to him, the second kind of piracy is plagiarism. This unoriginal presumptuous scam of a writer wants us to think that he's making a big revelation letting us know that some music compositions and scripts are borrowed from movies of foreign origin (why is it a hollywood simulation if Bheja Fry is a French film's remake) without acknowledgements, royalties or due credits. Again, this is only partly true and the airhead has no idea what he's talking about. Stories are copied all the time and with or without acknowledgements some people will still call it 'piracy', and this is definitely not something specific to the Hindi film industry. Same applies to music but does he even realise how much of Indian music is used and abused by the West in their loud and crass compositions with the only references to their origin being sarcastic and made for some bad humour? And why just this, he'll be blissfully ignorant of many other components of our heritage like medicinal herbs or crops (for instance) that have been renamed and patented by Big Uncle America. It'd be asking too much of his nonexistant cerebrum to comprehend the meaning and weight of important facts like these before doling out half-baked self-fabricated facts.
As if he hasn't made enough of a fool of himself already, his last kind of piracy is of body parts(!). As always, without being even mildly concerned with facts, reports of a few actresses not having paid their surgeons leads him to believe that the transplants are pirated(!) (It doesn't matter if there could be a teeny chance that the claims are false). At this point he gulps down that pea inside his thick skull and digresses at will, occasionally taking digs at famous people. FYI Doren, everyone does know about the singer's reason for wearing a cap, his balding condition and more importantly his popularity (unlike yours). He's rich, successful and famous and, unfortunately for you, a style icon for many. As of October 15, if you can even think that Partner is a successfully running movie, you're just giving away how pitifully distant you are from cinema let alone from spreading gyaan on the industry's workings. The last lines are about how Moserbaer and others are now selling DVDs at cheap prices. This is just a feeble attempt to redeem some lost pride; he should have for once bought a disc that actually does play a movie, and not some weird noises.
PS: Do look at the tackily done picture (that he 'pirates' from DON) accompanying the page full of nonsense, point at it and laugh till Doren can hear us and drop from traumatising shame. One Doren less is a better place for all of us and the movie industry as well, even if it means less business for the duping scheming pirated disc vendors who feed on the very existance of such beings incapable of logical thought.
Monday, November 05, 2007
Achtung!
After a year and half long hiatus I have only one thing to say. I'm back!
For the right ambience and effects, imagine a track in the background, one that sends out feelers of unrivaled machismo (a la the awesome "Adaranee/Athirade" number from Sivaji) with bikini clad hot blondes screaming 'Yay!' every four beats.
In case you still haven't got goosebumps, or have got way too many of them, or even otherwise, feel free to overwork that 'Comments' link.
For the right ambience and effects, imagine a track in the background, one that sends out feelers of unrivaled machismo (a la the awesome "Adaranee/Athirade" number from Sivaji) with bikini clad hot blondes screaming 'Yay!' every four beats.
In case you still haven't got goosebumps, or have got way too many of them, or even otherwise, feel free to overwork that 'Comments' link.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Me in Che 2
Chennai was destined to have more visits from me ;). And for bigger reasons. I landed in Chennai by GoAir on 19th June (to attend my counselling at IIT Madras scheduled on 21st June). The stay this time was longer- four days approximately. We checked in at Hotel Karpagam International (since we didn't know how to book a guest house at the IIT campus). Though nowhere close to the luxurious Maris, it had a convinience of its own- Window AC, which can be switched off and on at will. Unlike the centralised AC Maris had where the vent could be closed, this was obviously better. Since the closed went caused condensation of water and it started leaking, water dripping on the TV.
Day1: Did nothing, stayed at the hotel. The food was provided by Vasantha Bhavan which has similar branches at Hyderabad too I guess. And I was glad to find the food to be good. The idly-sambar varieties still were very much Madrasi (Siddhartha Tiffins ki Jai ho), maybe they never make it the Hyderabadi shtyle. People there must be liking it that way. Merrily ate my regular Naan and Paneer Butter Masala, without daring to try out other dishes and finding them to be bad (and without bothering about the butter ;), for three days.
Day2: Mom and Dad went out for some shopping. I preferred to stay in the room reading my book (Doctors by Erich Segal, thanks Hart). A conversation between Barney and his hi-fi tailor comes to my mind:
Barney (thinking to himself): The way he's taking so many measurements with such accuracy, he must be more qualified than surgeon
Tailor: How does you member rest?
Barney: My what??!!
Tailor: Your member Sir. For most men it rests slightly on the left so I make the pant accordingly.
Barney (thinking to himself): I better get outta here before these measurements become more embarassing (quickly gives him details and hurries away).
(The above conversation isn't verbatim, as I happen to have returned the book)
In the evening we went to some place called Burma/Rangoon Bazaar where a lot of pirated, smuggled, counterfeit and cheap goods are sold. Nothing short of amazing. Video piracy flourishing in the bare open; the whole settlement is just adjacent to the main road. Agreed that Koti has a similar business, but it is in the interior and isn't this open. A man tried to sell me some silly mp3 player labelled 'Sony' and followed me for one kilometre before he gave up (He started at Rs.3300 and made it Rs.1000 in the end for the 512MB player).
Surprisingly, auto-rickshaws don't follow the meter system in Chennai. Most autos do have meters installed, some even have electronic ones, but the price for travelling is completely at their discretion. They Name the price and You Pay it (TNYP ;). Another observation: City buses at Chennai look as if they're from the 1947 period. They are so old, so battered, and so unefficient. APSRTC at Hyderabad is a million times better. Not only does it keep providing new buses regularly, even the oldest RTC bus would be a lot better than the ones in Chennai.
Day3: The day of the counselling. The IC&SR building is centrally air conditioned, so it was very comfortable. Had to reach there in the morning. Wallet falls prey to TNYP again :D . Almost all of the day was spent there (Not wanting to keep you in suspense: A week later I was allotted Mechanical engineering at IIT-M).
Day4: Went to Mahabalipuram. Nice place. We reached there a bit early, so it looked deserted. But after an hour the crowds started pouring in, a good number of foreigners included.
I've learnt a few lessons after my visit:
1.Never buy things just as you enter this village. I drank from freshly cut coconuts for Rs.10. A vendor quoted the price of stone necklaces as Rs.65. In the interior of the village, the same things cost Rs.5 and Rs.10 respectively. Similar situation Mom was in, some art sculptures supposedly costing Rs.50 were later bought at Rs.20 and then at Rs.10!! But one thing's for sure: these same pieces are sold for a lot by shops in the city. I felt sorry for all the people there.
You can see a lot of craftsmen and sculptors working on wood and stone, live.
2.Never forget your camera. Ofcourse, I always carry my digicam around. So, while a girl was patiently writing down the notes, about the various caves and temples, engraved elaborately on stone tablets I just took pics of them and read them in my cam!
3.Never forget to carry your shorts when going to any place which might remotely resemble a beach. Get extra clothes atleast. Or else you'll never be able to enjoy the beach, not completely. The hot burning sand, the smell of salt in the air, the never ending sea, the frothy water, the dancing waves, the turbulent winds, and the annoying crows. You need to see it to believe it, to experience it. The Mahabalipuram beach scores a perfect ten on ten; obviously better than the crowded Mariana- for it neither looks deserted with lots of people amusing themselves nor is it crowded.
4.Always set your camera first before you do anything photo-worthy. Bright sun causes shadowy pictures. Before I could program my cam which has a fully manual mode, Dad hired a horse for me to ride. So, while the poor being shrunk under my weight and probably cursed me in a language I'm not aware of, I posed for the cam giving me best smiles. Needless to say, one couldn't make out the horse from me in the pics.
5.I don't know what I learnt here. But there was this stunning and absolutely gorgeous lady who came after a while. Dressed in pink and white, she was the only thing that seemed beautiful from then on. I'd have loved to take a pic of hers, but unfortunately for me, she was accompanied by an army of five guys, friends probably (so I tell myself). From very far away, I put my cam's 10x optical zoom to good use and took a pic of her, but as my luck would have it, the pic isn't one which mirrors her in all her beauty.
All in all, the trip was a truly memorable one. Came back on 23rd, by GoAir again, where (inspired by others) I flicked my first on-flight magazine.
Note: I was purely uninterested in writing this post. I, after taking much time, finally finished it only for the sake of completing the series (the previous post is numbered). So I have no right to put you through something which failed to earn weightage from me. Please skip this particular post, if that feels convinient.
I know that this note should have been at the top, but still (guess I got greedy).
Update: I'm about to arrive in Chennai on July 30 and spend some of my years at IITM for I've been granted admission there :D. So its gonna be 'da' and 'machan' from now on :P. What say guys?!
Day1: Did nothing, stayed at the hotel. The food was provided by Vasantha Bhavan which has similar branches at Hyderabad too I guess. And I was glad to find the food to be good. The idly-sambar varieties still were very much Madrasi (Siddhartha Tiffins ki Jai ho), maybe they never make it the Hyderabadi shtyle. People there must be liking it that way. Merrily ate my regular Naan and Paneer Butter Masala, without daring to try out other dishes and finding them to be bad (and without bothering about the butter ;), for three days.
Day2: Mom and Dad went out for some shopping. I preferred to stay in the room reading my book (Doctors by Erich Segal, thanks Hart). A conversation between Barney and his hi-fi tailor comes to my mind:
Barney (thinking to himself): The way he's taking so many measurements with such accuracy, he must be more qualified than surgeon
Tailor: How does you member rest?
Barney: My what??!!
Tailor: Your member Sir. For most men it rests slightly on the left so I make the pant accordingly.
Barney (thinking to himself): I better get outta here before these measurements become more embarassing (quickly gives him details and hurries away).
(The above conversation isn't verbatim, as I happen to have returned the book)
In the evening we went to some place called Burma/Rangoon Bazaar where a lot of pirated, smuggled, counterfeit and cheap goods are sold. Nothing short of amazing. Video piracy flourishing in the bare open; the whole settlement is just adjacent to the main road. Agreed that Koti has a similar business, but it is in the interior and isn't this open. A man tried to sell me some silly mp3 player labelled 'Sony' and followed me for one kilometre before he gave up (He started at Rs.3300 and made it Rs.1000 in the end for the 512MB player).
Surprisingly, auto-rickshaws don't follow the meter system in Chennai. Most autos do have meters installed, some even have electronic ones, but the price for travelling is completely at their discretion. They Name the price and You Pay it (TNYP ;). Another observation: City buses at Chennai look as if they're from the 1947 period. They are so old, so battered, and so unefficient. APSRTC at Hyderabad is a million times better. Not only does it keep providing new buses regularly, even the oldest RTC bus would be a lot better than the ones in Chennai.
Day3: The day of the counselling. The IC&SR building is centrally air conditioned, so it was very comfortable. Had to reach there in the morning. Wallet falls prey to TNYP again :D . Almost all of the day was spent there (Not wanting to keep you in suspense: A week later I was allotted Mechanical engineering at IIT-M).
Day4: Went to Mahabalipuram. Nice place. We reached there a bit early, so it looked deserted. But after an hour the crowds started pouring in, a good number of foreigners included.
I've learnt a few lessons after my visit:
1.Never buy things just as you enter this village. I drank from freshly cut coconuts for Rs.10. A vendor quoted the price of stone necklaces as Rs.65. In the interior of the village, the same things cost Rs.5 and Rs.10 respectively. Similar situation Mom was in, some art sculptures supposedly costing Rs.50 were later bought at Rs.20 and then at Rs.10!! But one thing's for sure: these same pieces are sold for a lot by shops in the city. I felt sorry for all the people there.
You can see a lot of craftsmen and sculptors working on wood and stone, live.
2.Never forget your camera. Ofcourse, I always carry my digicam around. So, while a girl was patiently writing down the notes, about the various caves and temples, engraved elaborately on stone tablets I just took pics of them and read them in my cam!
3.Never forget to carry your shorts when going to any place which might remotely resemble a beach. Get extra clothes atleast. Or else you'll never be able to enjoy the beach, not completely. The hot burning sand, the smell of salt in the air, the never ending sea, the frothy water, the dancing waves, the turbulent winds, and the annoying crows. You need to see it to believe it, to experience it. The Mahabalipuram beach scores a perfect ten on ten; obviously better than the crowded Mariana- for it neither looks deserted with lots of people amusing themselves nor is it crowded.
4.Always set your camera first before you do anything photo-worthy. Bright sun causes shadowy pictures. Before I could program my cam which has a fully manual mode, Dad hired a horse for me to ride. So, while the poor being shrunk under my weight and probably cursed me in a language I'm not aware of, I posed for the cam giving me best smiles. Needless to say, one couldn't make out the horse from me in the pics.
5.I don't know what I learnt here. But there was this stunning and absolutely gorgeous lady who came after a while. Dressed in pink and white, she was the only thing that seemed beautiful from then on. I'd have loved to take a pic of hers, but unfortunately for me, she was accompanied by an army of five guys, friends probably (so I tell myself). From very far away, I put my cam's 10x optical zoom to good use and took a pic of her, but as my luck would have it, the pic isn't one which mirrors her in all her beauty.
All in all, the trip was a truly memorable one. Came back on 23rd, by GoAir again, where (inspired by others) I flicked my first on-flight magazine.
Note: I was purely uninterested in writing this post. I, after taking much time, finally finished it only for the sake of completing the series (the previous post is numbered). So I have no right to put you through something which failed to earn weightage from me. Please skip this particular post, if that feels convinient.
I know that this note should have been at the top, but still (guess I got greedy).
Update: I'm about to arrive in Chennai on July 30 and spend some of my years at IITM for I've been granted admission there :D. So its gonna be 'da' and 'machan' from now on :P. What say guys?!
Monday, July 03, 2006
Me in Che(nnai) 1
In the last week of may, Mom emerged victorious in her pursuit. She finally managed to forcefully extract a "Yes" from me, for our journey to Tirupati. We went there via Chennai, a one day stay there actually. Dad got everything arranged beforehand. We arrived at chennai by SpiceJet. There was a really pretty air hostess on board. Though she didn't have flawless skin and I could look straight through her makeup, she was pretty nevertheless.
If someone wants advice to be dished out on choosing among these low fare airlines (AirDeccan, SpiceJet and GoAir) I might be of some help. Spice is the best among the three. Firstly they give you candies to help you salivate (thereby gulp) and thus help your poor bloodvessels cope up with pressure changes during asccent and descent. And during the actual flight they also provide you with cookies and bottled water. Isnt that cool now? No other airline does this (notice that I use this word in a very narrow sense and it refers to only the above mentioned three airlines). AirDeccan is the worst; I'm yet to board an AD flight which sticks to its timings. Go is good, but they dont give you anything except your seat. They're better than AirDeccan since a)they actually follow their timings b)sell a greater range of products like juices and other beverages and c)their airhostesses wear the shortest skirts.
Final advice: If you can find a SpiceJet at a convinient time and price, go for it.
As soon as we emerged from the airport, we were greeted by Saravanan. A humble, polite and extremely sincere guy who dropped us at our hotel and drove us around the city the next day.
Henceforth, I'd be referring to him as our 'driver' (I hate to call him that, but it saves me time and space when compared to 'the humble, polite and extremely sincere guy who drove us around the city'). We checked in at Hotel Maris, no.11, cathedral road (I don't even remember the name. But I was fortunate enough to find in my bag Medimix soaps they provided us with, and which had all this info labelled on them). It was quite a cosy room I must agree. It was as comfy and luxurious as I could ask for, and Maris was a one star hotel I was told. I wondered what five-star biggies offered.
Food at their restaurant was the worst I've ever had and probably I'll ever have had. I was amused at the Rs.30 price of Paneer butter masala but it was only after the meal that I actually knew why. I got a tomato gravy full of onions and some coriander, whatever happened to the Paneer. After this enlightening experience, I ate only masala dosa the next day for both lunch and dinner. Earlier I used to think that Chennai is famous for its idly-sambar. But now I know that sambar probably happens to be a favourite food item and that favorites need not necessarily be delicious or for that matter eatable. I can proclaim that Siddhartha tiffin(Nallakunta) centre serves the best sambar in the world after the episode at Maris's restaurant.
Next day we went to countless number of temples and silk saree shops thanks to the itinerary mom prepared. Parthasarathy temple, Subramanyeshwara temple, Kapaleeshwara temple,....
At one of the temples I sneaked in a photograph. Apparently that was not allowed as was evident from the way a man came running to me:
Man: blah blah blah (speaks in rapid Tamil)
Me: (keep a straight face and smile slightly after he finishes)
Man: (suspects that I didn't understand a word infact)*points to my cam and says* Close it (walks away without uttering another word)
I oblige him but I had already clicked my picture by then na, YAY.
The most boring hours were those spent at Nalli's, Pothy's, and god-knows-whatty's (all in T.Nagar I suppose) where Mom argued with the bemused sales men that she was being shown Rajkot sarees while she wanted silkcotton ones (hope I got the varieties right).
It was already dark by the time we reached Mariana beach and I couldn't get a single nice picture. Grrr.
Only one day spent at Chennai, so didn't notice much of anything else. Except for a lot of Tamil writing all around. Even the Reliance webworlds had their nameplates bearing their titles (also) in Tamil. I couldn't help but smile.
We started for Tirupati early next morning (*yawn!*) (We bade Saravanan goodbye. I forgot to ask him for a nice shot alongside his ambassador. Its a pity I dont have his photo).
Mom made me do a thing which I didn't want to, yet again. She got me and my dad (obviously) (poor Dad ;) to accompany her to Tirumala by foot. Four point five hours later I reached the destination, first. Dad came next and Mom last. Both of them were aching all over and drenched in their own sweat, part of which had dried giving their clothes a funny look. My own white shirt was way beyond recognition (Why did I have to wear a white shirt dammit).
The next day was all regular darshan and stuff. The day after that, we went to Renikunta and then to the Tirupati airport (it doesn't have a name, can you believe it??!). We finally reached Hyderabad by AirDeccan (delayed by an hour, inevitably *sigh*).
If someone wants advice to be dished out on choosing among these low fare airlines (AirDeccan, SpiceJet and GoAir) I might be of some help. Spice is the best among the three. Firstly they give you candies to help you salivate (thereby gulp) and thus help your poor bloodvessels cope up with pressure changes during asccent and descent. And during the actual flight they also provide you with cookies and bottled water. Isnt that cool now? No other airline does this (notice that I use this word in a very narrow sense and it refers to only the above mentioned three airlines). AirDeccan is the worst; I'm yet to board an AD flight which sticks to its timings. Go is good, but they dont give you anything except your seat. They're better than AirDeccan since a)they actually follow their timings b)sell a greater range of products like juices and other beverages and c)their airhostesses wear the shortest skirts.
Final advice: If you can find a SpiceJet at a convinient time and price, go for it.
As soon as we emerged from the airport, we were greeted by Saravanan. A humble, polite and extremely sincere guy who dropped us at our hotel and drove us around the city the next day.
Henceforth, I'd be referring to him as our 'driver' (I hate to call him that, but it saves me time and space when compared to 'the humble, polite and extremely sincere guy who drove us around the city'). We checked in at Hotel Maris, no.11, cathedral road (I don't even remember the name. But I was fortunate enough to find in my bag Medimix soaps they provided us with, and which had all this info labelled on them). It was quite a cosy room I must agree. It was as comfy and luxurious as I could ask for, and Maris was a one star hotel I was told. I wondered what five-star biggies offered.
Food at their restaurant was the worst I've ever had and probably I'll ever have had. I was amused at the Rs.30 price of Paneer butter masala but it was only after the meal that I actually knew why. I got a tomato gravy full of onions and some coriander, whatever happened to the Paneer. After this enlightening experience, I ate only masala dosa the next day for both lunch and dinner. Earlier I used to think that Chennai is famous for its idly-sambar. But now I know that sambar probably happens to be a favourite food item and that favorites need not necessarily be delicious or for that matter eatable. I can proclaim that Siddhartha tiffin(Nallakunta) centre serves the best sambar in the world after the episode at Maris's restaurant.
Next day we went to countless number of temples and silk saree shops thanks to the itinerary mom prepared. Parthasarathy temple, Subramanyeshwara temple, Kapaleeshwara temple,....
At one of the temples I sneaked in a photograph. Apparently that was not allowed as was evident from the way a man came running to me:
Man: blah blah blah (speaks in rapid Tamil)
Me: (keep a straight face and smile slightly after he finishes)
Man: (suspects that I didn't understand a word infact)*points to my cam and says* Close it (walks away without uttering another word)
I oblige him but I had already clicked my picture by then na, YAY.
The most boring hours were those spent at Nalli's, Pothy's, and god-knows-whatty's (all in T.Nagar I suppose) where Mom argued with the bemused sales men that she was being shown Rajkot sarees while she wanted silkcotton ones (hope I got the varieties right).
It was already dark by the time we reached Mariana beach and I couldn't get a single nice picture. Grrr.
Only one day spent at Chennai, so didn't notice much of anything else. Except for a lot of Tamil writing all around. Even the Reliance webworlds had their nameplates bearing their titles (also) in Tamil. I couldn't help but smile.
We started for Tirupati early next morning (*yawn!*) (We bade Saravanan goodbye. I forgot to ask him for a nice shot alongside his ambassador. Its a pity I dont have his photo).
Mom made me do a thing which I didn't want to, yet again. She got me and my dad (obviously) (poor Dad ;) to accompany her to Tirumala by foot. Four point five hours later I reached the destination, first. Dad came next and Mom last. Both of them were aching all over and drenched in their own sweat, part of which had dried giving their clothes a funny look. My own white shirt was way beyond recognition (Why did I have to wear a white shirt dammit).
The next day was all regular darshan and stuff. The day after that, we went to Renikunta and then to the Tirupati airport (it doesn't have a name, can you believe it??!). We finally reached Hyderabad by AirDeccan (delayed by an hour, inevitably *sigh*).
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
Anoop and Poonam: Goooogled!
Google. Millions of people admire it, trust it and use it.
Anoop and Poonam were no different.They got to know each other recently, and even began seeing each other. It just looked like a matter of little time before one of them came out with 'the' proposal. But this mushy period of theirs was rudely interrupted by exams. Aargh, dammit both of them thought. And the sad part was that both didn't have their exams at the same time which meant that it would be two months before they got completely free and another for their results to come out.
-break- -four months later- -chatting on yahoo messenger-
Anoop: Hey, baby. How're you?
Poonam: Absolutely fine.
Anoop: blah blah blah (regular talk about well being, how well they fared in their exams, etc.)
Anoop had rehearsed this part of their conversation earlier. He wanted to impress the girl, with some bit of French. Looks classy, he thought. He uses the Google translator for English to French (e2f) and keys in 'I miss you' 'I miss you a lot'. The translated lines come out as: 'Je m'ennuie de toi' 'Je m'ennuie de toi beaucoup'
Thoroughly pleased with himself and his intellect, he sends these lines to Poonam hoping that she'd ask him their meaning and he'd tell her like a French scholar.
But Poonam is no less smart.
She uses the Google translator for French to English (f2e) and gets:'I'm bored of you' 'I'm bored of you much'
Poonam: Is this some joke?
Anoop (still waiting for her to ask him what the lines meant): No dear, I mean them with all my heart.
What happened after this is anybody's guess. Both are still baffled as to how whatever happened happened.
PS: After this incident, I've digged out many similar 'lines' none of which are as er.. dangerous.
Fuck you (e2f) Va te faire foutre (f2e) Get stuffed
You look sexy (e2f) Vous semblez sexy (f2e) You seem sexy
Jump off a cliff (e2f) Sauter outre d'une falaise (f2e) To jump in addition to cliff
Shut up you dickhead (e2f) Vous fermer tête de Dick (f2e) You to close head of Dick
Drunken driving is dangerous (e2f) La conduite en état d'ivresse est dangereuse (f2e) Control in a state of intoxication is dangerous
Shove the red pill up your ass (e2f) Pousser la pillule rouge vers le haut de votre âne (f2e) To push the red pillule to the top of your ass
What happened happened the way it had to happen and could happen in no other way (e2f) Ce qui s'est produit s'est produit la manière qu'il a dû se produire et pourrait se produire d'aucune autre manière (f2e) What occurred occurred the manner that it had to occur and could occur in any other manner.
And finally,
What the fuck? (e2f) Ce qui la baise ? (f2e) What kisses it?
Moral of the story: Whenever you use Google translator for x2y, never forget to crosscheck it y2x.
Reader inputs:
Moral of the story according to Sid: Don't put Google where your heart is.
Added later: The translator can prove to be useful too. For instance it translated a whole poem for me, from Spanish to English.
The Translated version:
With sacrifice and love
We are going it to make
That at the end of the way
If it will be worth the trouble
That what we have done
It is given back lavishly
And until a little more
With sacrifice and effort
We are going it to obtain
That our love is the force
In order to overcome everything
Because our affection
It is more valuable that the gold
And until a little more
And until a little more
Everything is possible
For that reason it is necessary to fight
By our goals
And our happiness
By a world better
To be satisfied is the worse thing in everything
Everything is possible
No longer you watch back
Being together
That we can more need?
That the sacrifice of yesterday
It is the today joy
We prevailed…
Everything is possible, everything is possible
Everything is possible, everything is possible…
With sacrifice and effort
We are going it to obtain
That our love is the force
In order to overcome everything
Because our affection
It is more valuable that the gold
And until a little more
And until a little more
Everything is possible
For that reason it is necessary to fight
By our goals
And our happiness
By a world better
To be satisfied is the worse thing in everything
Everything is possible
Everything, everything is possible
Everything is possible
Everything, everything is possible…
The actual poem:
Con sacrificio y amor
Lo vamos a realizar
Que al final del camino
Si valdrá la pena
Que lo que hemos hecho
Se devuelve a manos llenas
Y hasta un poco más
Con sacrifício y esfuerzo
Lo vamos a lograr
Que nuestro amor es la fuerza
Para vencer todo
Porque nuestro cariño
Es más valioso que el oro
Y hasta un poco más
Y hasta un poco más
Todo es posible
Por eso hay que luchar
Por nuestras metas
Y nuestra felicidad
Por un mundo mejor
Conformarse es lo peor en todo
Todo es posible
Ya no mires atrás
Estando juntos
¿Que más nos puede faltar?
Que el sacrificio de ayer
Es la alegria de hoy
Triunfamos...
Todo es posible, todo es posible
Todo es posible, todo es posible...
Con sacrifício y esfuerzo
Lo vamos a lograr
Que nuestro amor es la fuerza
Para vencer todo
Porque nuestro cariño
Es más valioso que el oro
Y hasta un poco más
Y hasta un poco más
Todo es posible
Por eso hay que luchar
Por nuestras metas
Y nuestra felicidad
Por un mundo mejor
Conformarse es lo peor en todo
Todo es posible
Todo, todo es posible
Todo es posible
Todo, todo es posible...
Anoop and Poonam were no different.They got to know each other recently, and even began seeing each other. It just looked like a matter of little time before one of them came out with 'the' proposal. But this mushy period of theirs was rudely interrupted by exams. Aargh, dammit both of them thought. And the sad part was that both didn't have their exams at the same time which meant that it would be two months before they got completely free and another for their results to come out.
-break- -four months later- -chatting on yahoo messenger-
Anoop: Hey, baby. How're you?
Poonam: Absolutely fine.
Anoop: blah blah blah (regular talk about well being, how well they fared in their exams, etc.)
Anoop had rehearsed this part of their conversation earlier. He wanted to impress the girl, with some bit of French. Looks classy, he thought. He uses the Google translator for English to French (e2f) and keys in 'I miss you' 'I miss you a lot'. The translated lines come out as: 'Je m'ennuie de toi' 'Je m'ennuie de toi beaucoup'
Thoroughly pleased with himself and his intellect, he sends these lines to Poonam hoping that she'd ask him their meaning and he'd tell her like a French scholar.
But Poonam is no less smart.
She uses the Google translator for French to English (f2e) and gets:'I'm bored of you' 'I'm bored of you much'
Poonam: Is this some joke?
Anoop (still waiting for her to ask him what the lines meant): No dear, I mean them with all my heart.
What happened after this is anybody's guess. Both are still baffled as to how whatever happened happened.
PS: After this incident, I've digged out many similar 'lines' none of which are as er.. dangerous.
Fuck you (e2f) Va te faire foutre (f2e) Get stuffed
You look sexy (e2f) Vous semblez sexy (f2e) You seem sexy
Jump off a cliff (e2f) Sauter outre d'une falaise (f2e) To jump in addition to cliff
Shut up you dickhead (e2f) Vous fermer tête de Dick (f2e) You to close head of Dick
Drunken driving is dangerous (e2f) La conduite en état d'ivresse est dangereuse (f2e) Control in a state of intoxication is dangerous
Shove the red pill up your ass (e2f) Pousser la pillule rouge vers le haut de votre âne (f2e) To push the red pillule to the top of your ass
What happened happened the way it had to happen and could happen in no other way (e2f) Ce qui s'est produit s'est produit la manière qu'il a dû se produire et pourrait se produire d'aucune autre manière (f2e) What occurred occurred the manner that it had to occur and could occur in any other manner.
And finally,
What the fuck? (e2f) Ce qui la baise ? (f2e) What kisses it?
Moral of the story: Whenever you use Google translator for x2y, never forget to crosscheck it y2x.
Reader inputs:
Moral of the story according to Sid: Don't put Google where your heart is.
Added later: The translator can prove to be useful too. For instance it translated a whole poem for me, from Spanish to English.
The Translated version:
With sacrifice and love
We are going it to make
That at the end of the way
If it will be worth the trouble
That what we have done
It is given back lavishly
And until a little more
With sacrifice and effort
We are going it to obtain
That our love is the force
In order to overcome everything
Because our affection
It is more valuable that the gold
And until a little more
And until a little more
Everything is possible
For that reason it is necessary to fight
By our goals
And our happiness
By a world better
To be satisfied is the worse thing in everything
Everything is possible
No longer you watch back
Being together
That we can more need?
That the sacrifice of yesterday
It is the today joy
We prevailed…
Everything is possible, everything is possible
Everything is possible, everything is possible…
With sacrifice and effort
We are going it to obtain
That our love is the force
In order to overcome everything
Because our affection
It is more valuable that the gold
And until a little more
And until a little more
Everything is possible
For that reason it is necessary to fight
By our goals
And our happiness
By a world better
To be satisfied is the worse thing in everything
Everything is possible
Everything, everything is possible
Everything is possible
Everything, everything is possible…
The actual poem:
Con sacrificio y amor
Lo vamos a realizar
Que al final del camino
Si valdrá la pena
Que lo que hemos hecho
Se devuelve a manos llenas
Y hasta un poco más
Con sacrifício y esfuerzo
Lo vamos a lograr
Que nuestro amor es la fuerza
Para vencer todo
Porque nuestro cariño
Es más valioso que el oro
Y hasta un poco más
Y hasta un poco más
Todo es posible
Por eso hay que luchar
Por nuestras metas
Y nuestra felicidad
Por un mundo mejor
Conformarse es lo peor en todo
Todo es posible
Ya no mires atrás
Estando juntos
¿Que más nos puede faltar?
Que el sacrificio de ayer
Es la alegria de hoy
Triunfamos...
Todo es posible, todo es posible
Todo es posible, todo es posible...
Con sacrifício y esfuerzo
Lo vamos a lograr
Que nuestro amor es la fuerza
Para vencer todo
Porque nuestro cariño
Es más valioso que el oro
Y hasta un poco más
Y hasta un poco más
Todo es posible
Por eso hay que luchar
Por nuestras metas
Y nuestra felicidad
Por un mundo mejor
Conformarse es lo peor en todo
Todo es posible
Todo, todo es posible
Todo es posible
Todo, todo es posible...
Friday, May 05, 2006
RDB Finally
After much hype, lot of talk and weeks after its release I get to watch Rakeysh Om Prakash Mehra's Rang De Basanti.
Though a fairly good film, it has been highly hyped and lauded much beyond what it deserves.
A lot of people who went to the film in its early days of release thought it was watchable. But after it was declared a super hit everyone started singing its praises.
Almost everyone must have watched it by now, so its pointless writing a review.
The first three-fourths of the movie moves quite slowly while in the last parts the actual story picks up. I understand that the first parts were required to build the characters but the director must've found a shorter way of doing it. The movie needn't have stretched for three hours and more.
Soha Ali Khan, Sharman Joshi and Siddharth excelled in their roles. Atul Kulkarni gives his best like always. Aamir Khan walks away with my praises this time. His accurate Punjabi accent and mannerisms were very good. And he emotes quite well. A wonderful show by Aamir on the whole.
Kunal Kapoor plays the spoil sport with just adequate acting. He starts of well but doesn't sustain it. Take the "padai wala inzaam" dialogue for example.
Alice Patten was about OK. Her Hindi is funny in the beginning but starts to get irritating as the film proceeds. If she has dubbed for herself, her efforts are commendable though.
Screen-play and direction by Rakeysh are pretty good. Especially the way he mixes the scenes in their real life with those of the documentary.
Music is just adequate. Maybe good. But not rocking like everyone says. Somehow everyone seems to have lapped it up for it carries the Rahman label. But the best music in recent times have come from Kalyug and Bluffmaster.
Background music rocks though. Suits the situations perfectly and delivers to the film its exemplary feel.
A good watch, particularly after months of nonsense cinema.
Though a fairly good film, it has been highly hyped and lauded much beyond what it deserves.
A lot of people who went to the film in its early days of release thought it was watchable. But after it was declared a super hit everyone started singing its praises.
Almost everyone must have watched it by now, so its pointless writing a review.
The first three-fourths of the movie moves quite slowly while in the last parts the actual story picks up. I understand that the first parts were required to build the characters but the director must've found a shorter way of doing it. The movie needn't have stretched for three hours and more.
Soha Ali Khan, Sharman Joshi and Siddharth excelled in their roles. Atul Kulkarni gives his best like always. Aamir Khan walks away with my praises this time. His accurate Punjabi accent and mannerisms were very good. And he emotes quite well. A wonderful show by Aamir on the whole.
Kunal Kapoor plays the spoil sport with just adequate acting. He starts of well but doesn't sustain it. Take the "padai wala inzaam" dialogue for example.
Alice Patten was about OK. Her Hindi is funny in the beginning but starts to get irritating as the film proceeds. If she has dubbed for herself, her efforts are commendable though.
Screen-play and direction by Rakeysh are pretty good. Especially the way he mixes the scenes in their real life with those of the documentary.
Music is just adequate. Maybe good. But not rocking like everyone says. Somehow everyone seems to have lapped it up for it carries the Rahman label. But the best music in recent times have come from Kalyug and Bluffmaster.
Background music rocks though. Suits the situations perfectly and delivers to the film its exemplary feel.
A good watch, particularly after months of nonsense cinema.
Kopy Kat!
Last year. Summer. It was almost three months since I decided to grow my hair long. All was fine until MS Raju released his blockbuster movie 'Nuvvosthanante Nenoddantana'(NN). All this time everyone either thought that my hair looked pretty wild and were opposed to it or thought it was cool. But after the film the only 'thing' that crossed their minds was Siddharth (the actor one). "Oh, he's emulating Shiddarth" "Siddarth fan, are you?". This is what I got from onlookers and friends (so much so that when I got fed up and finally decided to get my hair cut, my barber said "Siddarth,eh?". What a fairy tale ending).
"Wtf? I did to my hair whatever I did to it long before the film came out!", I yelled. As if anyone cared.
Thats how Siddarth stole all the limelight while making me look like an ass.
This year. After rummaging through all weird things in my house (an attic sort of thing there is) for months together, I manage to find something. A pair of cool RayBan Aviator sunglasses. Now, since aviator shades are the flavour of the season, I painstakingly clean up the tarnished parts to make them look as good as new. Almost.
And when I finally decide to wear them, what do I get? "Hey, Siddarth stlye!" "RDB Siddarth?" Guys give me a break. I mean I wore them because they look good. And if you do have to make comparisons, there are a whole load of people out there wearing them too. Shah Rukh wore them as early as in Veer-Zaara. Saif kept wearing them on and off in recent times. Dino wears them in red almost all the time these days. Karan wore them to a function very recently. John wears a variation of them in some ads. The list just goes on. But all that people can find is Siddharth. So I inevitably find myself being once again called a Siddarth-style follower.
Whoa. Funny, the way this world works.
"Wtf? I did to my hair whatever I did to it long before the film came out!", I yelled. As if anyone cared.
Thats how Siddarth stole all the limelight while making me look like an ass.
This year. After rummaging through all weird things in my house (an attic sort of thing there is) for months together, I manage to find something. A pair of cool RayBan Aviator sunglasses. Now, since aviator shades are the flavour of the season, I painstakingly clean up the tarnished parts to make them look as good as new. Almost.
And when I finally decide to wear them, what do I get? "Hey, Siddarth stlye!" "RDB Siddarth?" Guys give me a break. I mean I wore them because they look good. And if you do have to make comparisons, there are a whole load of people out there wearing them too. Shah Rukh wore them as early as in Veer-Zaara. Saif kept wearing them on and off in recent times. Dino wears them in red almost all the time these days. Karan wore them to a function very recently. John wears a variation of them in some ads. The list just goes on. But all that people can find is Siddharth. So I inevitably find myself being once again called a Siddarth-style follower.
Whoa. Funny, the way this world works.
Intermediate Board.BAH.
Almost all books written for school and college education are nonsensical. Their authors are the rightful owners of the title 'Indian Authors' according to a great man.
So it comes as no big surprise that the Physics textbook was quite substandard too. But what amazed me were the spellings. Alright if they can't get their subject right, but atleast the spellings can be taken care of. I wonder what they can get right and why they are on the board. And to top it all, there are two editors too for the book.
Where else can you have leniar densities for strings, eh? And conditions full filled too. There are rerer media for light. Some objects should be of porper shape. And lenses cause spherical abervations. AH yes, all through the book, as mentioned innumerable times, one thing or the other has to lOOse something. No compensation on the last one. Whenever it is lose, it's got to be loose!
Thank god its an intermediate text book where readers are hopefully far beyond influence. If it was some first or second standard book, those kids would've to lose all their spellings. Oh sorry, loose all their spellings!
So it comes as no big surprise that the Physics textbook was quite substandard too. But what amazed me were the spellings. Alright if they can't get their subject right, but atleast the spellings can be taken care of. I wonder what they can get right and why they are on the board. And to top it all, there are two editors too for the book.
Where else can you have leniar densities for strings, eh? And conditions full filled too. There are rerer media for light. Some objects should be of porper shape. And lenses cause spherical abervations. AH yes, all through the book, as mentioned innumerable times, one thing or the other has to lOOse something. No compensation on the last one. Whenever it is lose, it's got to be loose!
Thank god its an intermediate text book where readers are hopefully far beyond influence. If it was some first or second standard book, those kids would've to lose all their spellings. Oh sorry, loose all their spellings!
Nau Do Gyaarah
Board Exams over. The one day I studied for each exam makes it six days. Oh me. Six days of slogging surely needs to be rewarded. So I decide that the reward must come in the form of a movie. Quick planning with Sid inevitably fails. Two such failures later, we land up at Maheshwari to watch Taxi No. 9211. Cool film. Fresh attempt. And good acting, especially Nana.
Raghav Shastri (Nana Patekar) is an ill tempered guy. Changes some twenty jobs in twelve years. Finally settles for Taxi driving while his wife thinks he's an insurance agent.
Jai Mittal (John Abraham) is the spoilt brat. Son of a millionaire, he has nothing to do except indulge in wine and women. Dad thinks he'll squander all his hard earned money. So gets a will written that will make Mr.Bajaj, his close friend, the benefactor of his 300 crore property. This comes as a rude jolt to Jai who gets himself drunk and rams his car into a tree. But he still has hope as he has an older will in which, he probably forced his father to write so, he is stated the heir. Next day is his hearing at the court. He takes a taxi to the locker room where the will lies, Nana's taxi precisely. He wants to hurry up and is unreasonably egged on by his girlfriend (Sameera Reddy). So he pays large sums of money to Raghu to go at 120kmph, to break through traffic signals and finally dash heavily into another car. Jai slips away from the accident scene but forgets his vault key in the taxi. Now both refuse to cooperate with each other. Chaos ensues and they go till the point of trying to kill each other. But finally, when Jai's on the verge of losing everything he realises the true colours of his friends, fiance and all others who claimed to be his well wishers. He thus befriends Nana, dumps Sameera, apologises to Mr.Bajaj and also manages to find himself a new girlfriend (Priyanka Chopra). And hence ends the story on a happy note.
There are lots of whacky dialogues, mostly from Nana, delivered in his usual style, uttered with perfection. Sample these:
"Samne mera maama khada hain"
"Hum dono dhakkano ko ek hi din paida hona tha"
"Teen so karod dilaya hain maine. Ab bhi phokat ka daaru peetha hain"
and "Maine signal thodne ko kaha tha. Gaadi nai" from John.
All in all, a fairly good watch. Makes for good timepass and entertainment.
Raghav Shastri (Nana Patekar) is an ill tempered guy. Changes some twenty jobs in twelve years. Finally settles for Taxi driving while his wife thinks he's an insurance agent.
Jai Mittal (John Abraham) is the spoilt brat. Son of a millionaire, he has nothing to do except indulge in wine and women. Dad thinks he'll squander all his hard earned money. So gets a will written that will make Mr.Bajaj, his close friend, the benefactor of his 300 crore property. This comes as a rude jolt to Jai who gets himself drunk and rams his car into a tree. But he still has hope as he has an older will in which, he probably forced his father to write so, he is stated the heir. Next day is his hearing at the court. He takes a taxi to the locker room where the will lies, Nana's taxi precisely. He wants to hurry up and is unreasonably egged on by his girlfriend (Sameera Reddy). So he pays large sums of money to Raghu to go at 120kmph, to break through traffic signals and finally dash heavily into another car. Jai slips away from the accident scene but forgets his vault key in the taxi. Now both refuse to cooperate with each other. Chaos ensues and they go till the point of trying to kill each other. But finally, when Jai's on the verge of losing everything he realises the true colours of his friends, fiance and all others who claimed to be his well wishers. He thus befriends Nana, dumps Sameera, apologises to Mr.Bajaj and also manages to find himself a new girlfriend (Priyanka Chopra). And hence ends the story on a happy note.
There are lots of whacky dialogues, mostly from Nana, delivered in his usual style, uttered with perfection. Sample these:
"Samne mera maama khada hain"
"Hum dono dhakkano ko ek hi din paida hona tha"
"Teen so karod dilaya hain maine. Ab bhi phokat ka daaru peetha hain"
and "Maine signal thodne ko kaha tha. Gaadi nai" from John.
All in all, a fairly good watch. Makes for good timepass and entertainment.
John-A-Bra-Ham
The model-turned-actor who has taken the country by a storm. I'm yet to meet a girl who doesn't adore his unconventionally good looks and his dimpled smile. He doesn't have a flawless skin, isn't fair like the Rishi Kapoors of bollywood but still has that aura, that charisma which only John has. Though he has a long way to go in terms of his acting abilities, this hard working lad deserves all the acclaim he has been getting.
Like all newspapers do, ToI cashed in on his ever growing fame by having the main page of the Life supplement dedicated to him, titled Johnny Bravo. It gave us snippets of his personal life and his ideas, thoughts and family.
Thus after reading this extremely important news item, I now have an upgraded knowledge bank. How else would I've known that John is a blue-jeans-and-white-shirt guy? Or that he once had acne which subsequently cleared up. And oh, I forgot to add that the slippers he's using now are the same pair he bought while shooting for Jism (MRP Rs.500). Very informative indeed.
But even in this glossy article, I couldn't help but notice one statement he made."I'm not even a low maintenance guy, I'm a NO maintenance guy".
Now, I'm floored. Absolutely. All those hair care products for a sleek and long mane aren't expensive, right. Hair wax, wet look gels and mousse, very inexpensive- why didn't I know this before. And not to forget designer jeans and shades. He has a penchant for jackets too. Oh yeah, quite no maintenance.
How I wish, I could afford no maintenance too.....
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