Of Home and Coffee Houses

Sitting in the musty, confined interiors of the Indian Coffee House in Thrissur’s main round, right next to the famous old Jos theatre, I wondered what kept bringing me back to the joint. I know the Indian Coffee House is an establishment all over India, but I’m pretty sure the menu is not the same everywhere. The ones in Kerala have a delicious assortment of Mallu non veg cuisine including various preparations of beef which I doubt would be found anywhere else. But their food, while simple and inexpensive, is delicious to the taste buds. Starting from the regular favorite anywhere in Kerala, the porotta and beef roast. This is something I have to have whenever I’m in that city I call home. The biriyani’s are also great. This time around I tried out something I had never had before, called a Beef Omelet. As can be ascertained from the name, it is an omelet with beef inside it. Sumptuous.

The place is always crowded with the common junta of Thrissur and efficient in their service. There is something so typically Mallu and comforting about the place which is reflected in the town as a whole. The Thrissur Round, which is the main center of the city, is unique in its layout. The traffic bustles around the circumference of this round, while in the middle there is the famous Vaddakumnathan temple (where every year the famous Thrissur pooram takes place). This middle area has large courtyards and green lined avenues where one can take a stroll without ever realizing that it is bang in the middle of the heart of the city.

So what keeps bringing me back? Is it the familiarity of home? The realization that the place has a soul and the desire to soak in that soul once in a while? The beauty that my eyes are assured of reliving every time I take a trip, via Kunnamkulam, to my ancestral villages? Or the great food? Maybe it’s all of these. All I know is, when I think home, it is the place which first comes to mind.

Joga Bonito!!!

The party has begun. The greatest sporting event in the world is back once again to nourish the souls of the teeming millions who follow each and every tidbit of info about it with the kind of passion or fervor reserved only for such emotions as love or hate. Or maybe not even for that.

In all honesty, it is tough at times to understand the scope of the world cup. Purely on a logistical or personnel level, the Olympics is definitely the biggest sporting event ever. The number of participating countries are virtually all encompassing, while the disciplines are rich and varied. By contrast, the football world cup deals with only one sport, and has a measly 32 countries playing. But the kind of extreme emotions this game evokes in so many different parts of the world sets this event a class apart from any other. Cricket may cause hysteria in a couple of countries, and that too the few ones which play it seriously. Football on the other hand can boast of causing hysteria in countries ranging from the Sub Saharan to the European, from the Far East to Central America. Most of these countries don’t even stand a chance of winning the trophy. Yet, the feelings associated with just being part of the quadrennial event, the holy grail of the three group matches is enough for them.

India’s relationship with the world cup is a funny one. Obviously, as of now, India is nowhere close to qualifying for it. But there was a time when they were invited for the 1950 tournament in Brazil. However, they had to decline because…. Wait for it… they didn’t play in football boots. Which basically meant there was a lack of funds. Sad, considering after that they probably haven’t got near a whiff of a world cup place. Considering India’s vast poverty stricken population of millions, it would have seemed the ideal place for a game like football to flourish. There is a strange, alluring simplicity and beauty about the game which has resulted in practitioners of the art coming from such places as Brazil’s shantytowns and the African hinterlands.

So what about this world cup? For the first time, amid growing fears of security, the world cup is being held in Africa. So far, the only distinctive flavor I can get from it is the irritating vuvuzela horns which keep creating a din while the matches are on. FIFA was thinking of banning them, but were dissuaded from doing so, as it was supposed to add on to the South African experience. Among 10 stadiums created or renovated for the event, the beautiful Soccer City stadium in Johannesburg stands out with its structure and capacity of 94000. As for the potential champions, the regular suspects are always there, out of which this time Brazil and Spain look the overwhelming favorites. Spain would be hoping to put their years of underachievement on the world stage and follow up their brilliant Euro 2008 triumph with the world cup. Of course, I would always keep hoping that the Dutch finally come good for the duration of an entire tournament rather than the few flashes of brilliance we see from them. Oh, and I expect a couple of the Asian teams to do pretty well this time around.

So, like somebody once said… “Football is not a matter of life and death… It’s much more than that!” Let the good times begin… Joga Bonito!!!

The Wonder Years

The Wonder Years is probably my favorite sitcom. When I was a kid in Jubail and Kuwait, I remember not religiously following the show like I did some others. But I do remember that whenever I managed to catch an episode or two of the series, I left it completely enriched. Enriched with the goodness, the humor and the pure emotional depth the show projected. Compared to a lot of the instant entertainment shows dished out on television these days, this kind of show lingers in the memory.

So recently, when I got all the seasons of the Wonder Years again to watch, I started going through them slowly. Kevin Arnold played wonderfully by Fred Savage, and the voiceover of the adult Kevin given heart rendingly by Daniel Stern (the less informed watchers may remember him as one of the robbers in the first two Home Alone movies). Kevin’s family, including his grouchy but caring dad, his fussy mom, his elder sister with her liberal attitudes and his irritating bully of a big brother, Wayne. His best friend Paul. And, of course… his childhood sweetheart, Winnie. The story of Winnie and Kevin is what runs through the narrative of the six seasons, sometimes in the background. They may have gone in between to other partners, but there was always a sense, that they had a happy ending waiting for them. It takes till the final episode of the final season to find out if they did indeed have one. The chemistry between them was delightful, from the first episode of the first season when they were supposed to be twelve.

The show is set during Kevin’s growing up years in a middle class suburban neighborhood in the US, during the turbulent 60’s. The episodes dealt with a wide range of issues, all examined poignantly and innocently from the point of view of this kid. Family feuds’, first love, friendship, school, the Vietnam war… Who can forget the episode of Kevin inadvertently initiating a walkout in his school to protest the war? Or the one in which he and Winnie share their first kiss. And the bittersweet final episode.

For everyone fed on a diet of today’s shows, mostly lacking in emotional depth or resilience, I would suggest checking out Kevin Arnold’s world. And remembering a time probably long gone.

A Night of Debauchery... Rewind!

I remember ending up in a barf at ArS’ apartment in Goregaon around 4 in the morning. If I rewind from there, I remember a long taxi drive with AP sleeping, Ars (being the tanker of energy he is) singing an old mallu poem (one which I have always liked, about a mom and her 12 kids and the mad one) and me keeping barely awake and trying to make even the mildest of senses of what ArS was on about. Oh, the taxi drive across the length of Mumbai from Colaba to Goregaon was delightful as always. It had started at that mouth watering roadside eatery in Colaba, Bade Miyan, when the three of us, half out of our senses and with almost overflowing tanks, told the driver to find a loo for us first. Thankfully he did.

Though I don’t remember this time much of what I had at Bade Miyan, I do remember before that we had gone to a local bar ‘Gokul’, where we saw the cheapest vodka on the menu and had two large pegs each of it. I don’t even remember the name. Alkazar? Oh, and a couple of omelets. That probably finally knocked us out. That was probably around 2 AM. Don’t you just love this place? Now since I have started reliving this night backwards, I remember 20 minutes before reaching Gokul, we had entered the sports bar near Leopold’s. And spent barely ten minutes inside it and spent close to 2 grand. As far as I can remember, the sequence involved, walking into the sports bar, mild interest in the cricket goin’ on on the tube, sitting at the bar on three high stools and asking the bartender for three Tequila shots. This was downed in a matter of seconds and we ordered the next round. Then we asked for the bill, paid and got the hell out.

Going back from there… we had taken a taxi from the area near Not Just Jazz by the Bay and Mocha to reach here. Why? Coz after all the effort and miles walked from one end of Colaba to the other to find the famous ‘Gaylord’ (yea, yea… that is the name… but its actually supposed to be the best for continental food!), we realized they were closing down. Not even 1 AM!! Jazz did not serve hard drinks outside, and the Mocha across the street only had strong beer. Naah!! However, the way from Leopolds to Gaytown, uh..lord I mean… was pretty interesting. I remember the Sundance bar and restaurant, where we got in, ordered Antiquity blue (2 larges again), ordered delicious beef and talked at the top of our voices about… what? I think it was about girls, sexual conquests (limited ) and condoms. I sure hope no patrons were offended. But then again, if you are stuck in these places at midnight with sensitive people, you deserve it.

Now this brings us back, almost, to the start of the journey from Leo’s and what inspired this night of debauchery (lol). Our aim had started out to taste the continental delicacies of Gaylord (man, why cant they change the name??), we had started by coming across Café Royale. Now we hadn’t heard of this place. But once inside we realized even Bill Clinty (presumably in his pre-Monicagate days) had sneaked in a visit here. They had the most amazing cheesecakes. And along with the cheesecakes we had a couple of pegs of amazing Russian Vodka (naturally). Wow… blueberry cheesecake and Russian Vodka. I GOT to try that again!

In between all this, I also have vague memories of smokin’ away to glory on the footpaths and also helping an African lady win back one rupee from a shopkeeper tryin’ to harass the poor thing. Though seeing her size I really did wonder if even without my altruistic intervention she may been ok. Maybe it’s the shopkeeper who should be thankful. She looked pretty angry even when she told me thanks.
Oh and did I mention this started off in Leopolds with a double pitcher of beer and sausages? At the earthly hour of 9 PM when even the ladies, Poo and ApS were with us… Thank God we packed them off early that night!

Here’s to more drunken revelries with the indomitably BIG duo of ArS and AP!!!

Sports... A Great Leveler

India’s T20 World Cup campaign got off, as expected, with a win against rank outsiders Afghanistan. While the victory was expected, this was a match I was looking forward to watching, purely out of a curiosity about the romance surrounding Afghanistan’s march to probably their first major sporting event.

Sports, in its basic form, is just another form of entertainment, like the movies. Of course, the passion and fervor with which some people follow the games makes it seem like the sportsmen are sometimes going off to war for their country. Though I do love watching football and to a lesser extent, cricket, I have always guffawed at the notion people (spectators) have that people who play international sports should be treating it as almost a war and should not be swayed by commercial concerns. Pretty silly, if you ask me. A sportsperson knows he will be at the top for only a short period in his life, and there is absolutely nothing wrong if he uses that period to do as well as he can. As long as he gives it his all on the field.

However, there are times, when sports manages to transcend the glitz and gold that seems to symbolize the best sporting endeavors these days. Every once in a while, a story like the Afghans’ comes along which makes you realize the power this medium can have over nations. I don’t know how much of it is mere romance created by the media, but it does bring a lump to the throat to think of these men who made their way from refugee camps in a country which has been ravaged by endless wars, as one group after another lay claim to its disillusioned landscape and people. I wonder how hopeless the situation would have seemed for these men just a few years back when the oppressive rule of the Taliban was coming to an end in the bloodiest circumstances possible. They joined the lower divisions of the cricket leagues a mere few years back. And now they find themselves on the world stage, after barely missing the qualification to the 50 over event next year. Whatever their chances, I’m sure the Afghans savored the moment when their national anthem was played at the early start in the St. Lucia stadium.

This is not the only occasion this has happened. I remember being touched when I read towards the end of the last century how the then Yugoslav football players payed their own way to be a part of the global event that is the Football world cup at France ’98, as the country just didn’t have the funds. Now, of course, there is no more Yugoslavia. Similarly, what a source of pride it was for Croatia when their team not only qualified but, astonishingly, finished third at the same event. Theirs was a young nation then, and this would have helped them. Football, being almost a religion in itself, would have a lot more of these stories. However, there are significant instances of the power of sport in other disciplines as well. The black power salute by American athletes at the 1960 Olympics. Or how cricket passed a big message to the rest of the world when they banned South Africa from international competition for more than 2 decades, on account of the human rights violations under the despicable apartheid governments. When the same country finally got rid of the shackles of apartheid, Nelson Mandela saw the rugby world cup which South Africa hosted and won in 1995 as a means of uniting the country after years of separation between the whites and other races.

Afghanistan will, in all probability, not last beyond the first round in the West Indies. But they may have already won their own kind of battle. The most important one.

Terror in Pune

Life has suddenly become scary. Or scarier. The threat of terror is always there at the back of your mind, especially being in India. But until it stares you in the face, you never realize how easily… how fuckin easily it could have been you. And how easy it is for people to treat it as just another event, unless they actually confront it. I was at the site a few minutes after the blast. And I dont think I can forget. Ever.

The German Bakery was one of my favorite joints in Pune. As it was for many others. The atmosphere and the relaxed ease with which people from different parts of the world milled around at virtually the heart of the city, made it a pretty popular spot. On Saturday, the day before Valentines, that all changed. I was in Koregaon Park that day, less than a Kilometer away from the place when we heard the blast, and the building shook. Me and my cousin looked outside and saw the smoke billowing up into the evening sky, but we couldn’t ascertain the cause. My cousin’s hubby and I went to the place, wondering what happened. When we reached there, barely 15 minutes after the blast, the site was chilling. The German bakery was totaled. Burnt and dead bodies were lying around and people were rushing around trying to get the injured to ambulances which had just started arriving. I was almost paralyzed at that point. It is one thing to see these images on television and another to actually see it up front. My cousin’s hubby tried to help lifting some of the injured onto stretchers, and his hand at the end of the ordeal was covered in blood and specks of flesh from the injured. I realized why it was so scary. The thought that it could so easily have been you. How many weekend evenings had I sat there, enjoying the mashed potatoes or the scrambled eggs with the pot of Earl Grey tea. I couldn’t help thinking… these people were also sitting there like that without a care in the world, when suddenly… I had passed by the place less than half an hour before it happened.

What is probably more disturbing is the fact that people have almost become apathetic towards these incidents unless it actually affects them. A nice story to talk about, muse about for a while and leave it at that. The few friends who actually thought about it enough called up or asked me if things were fine in Pune. Somehow the thought that I could have been in there did not seem to register in their minds. It almost seemed an event had happened in my city and they were enquiring after it. And I do wonder about the news channels which started reporting it as a cylinder blast, when even the cops and people at the site did not know what had happened. How did these guys ascertain so fast that it was a cylinder blast? Anybody who heard it could not believe that. Of course, later on, they revised their stories and it came to light that, like Leopolds in Colaba, the German bakery was another symbol for the haters to vent on.

Somehow it felt funny when people started wishing me on Valentine’s Day the day after. Yea, there seems to be a lot of love around.

Whither the Rancho’s?

Do we still have our Ranchos around? Or more importantly, is the world too cynical these days to believe in the Ranchos?

The funny (or refreshing) thing about Hirani’s latest offering is that much more people than I have seen before seem willing to at least try and believe in the philosophy endorsed by Aamir Khan’s character. Even though the last picture done by him (Lage Raho Munnabhai) was another work of genius, a lot of people seemed unwilling at the time to believe that the radiant idealism which he propagates can work. Sadly, a lot of them saw it as just good fun and were not willing to draw in the message that goodness can thwart all evil.

However, this time around, he seemed to have got to everyone, or at least much more of us. The character of Rancho was just so infectiously endearing and hopeful that we just cannot help thinking that it is possible. Hirani is a genius. I don’t know how he manages to brilliantly evoke sensitive issue so comically, without it descending into parody or hurting sentiments. I said this the last time when the second Munnabhai came out. His portrayal of Gandhi in that was brilliantly balanced with the right amount of light heartedness while making sure that not even the so called ‘righteous’ moral police (read idiots) of the country can raise a hue. Similarly in his latest, he portrays Sharman’s character’s lousy family situation (paralyzed dad, haranguing mom, unmarried sis etc.) in a uniquely comical and good hearted manner that you just cannot raise a protest. In the hands of a lesser film maker, such a depiction of the widespread poverty in the land could have been misconstrued as in bad taste or mockery.

As for me, I love the Rancho’s of the world. If it wasn’t for those people I have been lucky enough to get close to in life, who embody at least parts of his idealism, I would have probably lost faith in humanity a while ago. In the ever changing, cynical and cut throat universe we seem to inhabit at times, it is the simplicity, directness and honesty of these people that breathes in fresh air to our existence. They bring in that essential ingredient which everyone seems to want to run away from or keep under wraps most of the time. Truth. To yourself and to others. And the world is all the more better because of them. All is definitely well!

New Years in Mumbai... Again!

With the pitcher at Leopolds

New Years was a pretty good time this year. It started off a bit disappointingly when I had tot turn down an invite for a couple of parties on the 31st in Pune, but more than made up for it with the refreshing weekend I had in Mumbai. Great buddies, great food, great hangouts and a wonderfully exhilarating city. What else could one ask for?

Mumbai is one of those complexities of India I have always marveled at. A city which probably epitomizes all the aspects of growth, wealth, freedom, efficiency and vibrancy. And paradoxically, poverty, fear, inefficiency, congestion. But it cannot be denied the city is an event in itself. Whether it’s the teeming crowds at the Gateway and around about it or the plush interiors of the various eat outs and well designed malls, it screams its presence at you.

I loved sitting in Leopolds with some of my best friends, with their own unique way of bringing a pitcher of beer. The energy around the place(apart from the great food and drinks) is wonderfully invigorating. The 45 minutes we took to find the place seemed rewarding, as we got a chance to roam the streets of Colaba (my favorite part of the city). Though ArS would probably never live down the ‘5 minutes’ stigma from the rest of us. ;) The roadside eatery, Bade Miyan, true to reputation served probably some of the best non vegetarian food I have had. They even had a unique way of keeping the hood of the car straight so that patrons can take their food there and have it without waiting for a table. And, considering that AP usually wants to cover as many places as he can in a day, it was nice that we could just sit around at the beautiful Marine Drive for quite some time without having anywhere to think of going. Oh, and I even got a chance to catch my first IMAX 3-D experience, at the great dome with Avatar. That the movie was disappointing is a different thing.

And it was mind numbing to somehow end up at Nariman House and the narrow alleyway still riddled with the bullets of 26/11. Another reminder of the paradoxes of this place. Despite seeming like you are safe always in the teeming millions, it is also the most vulnerable because of this.

Weddings and all that jazz...

The past weekend I managed to drop into a wonderful resort in Lonavla for a dear pal's marriage (he is the first person I know who was born on the same day as me). SiK's wedding gave me another opportunity to soak in the pleasures of a Gujarati wedding experience for the second time this year, after me and SiK himself dropped in Baroda for Ta's wedding. Although I still feel weddings in India are mostly over elaborate, showy affairs held more to satisfy the natural urge of our countrymen to strut in front of their society at large, rather taking away from the simple beauty at the centre of it of two people coming together, it was quite enjoyable. I somehow have never felt very comfortable at large weddings, which is why I mostly stay away from them. But for SiK's I had to make it. Plus it was the chance of a road trip after a long time with TusLun. Avi and Rambo also came along for the ride.
I have to re iterate something I had felt before as well. Gujarati weddings seem to have the best babes in town. These ladies don't just look good, they know how to deck themselves up to keep the temperatures soaring for any hot blooded male. The place seemed to exude a level of sensuality, which I am not really used to at family functions over here. My company for the trip may have just dropped me out of their tour party if I had drooled any more :) . Of course, the food being the most amazing I have had in a wedding for a while was just an added bonus.
As for the function itself, it was pretty good fun. I didn't stay for the actual wedding per se, as we had to leave that night, but this was probably worth it. At least for the sight of seeing SiK breaking out into a jig on the stage as he danced to his beloved's tunes ;) ...

The Glory of the Old Ones...

These days, i find myself going back in time sometimes. I mean, one pertinent example would be the books I sometimes come across in some bookstore and decide to splurge on. I think it actually started a couple of years back, when something made me re connect with that wondrous land C.S Lewis created for kids, Narnia. I had a craving then to get all the Narnia books and get transported back to the days I had first read them, in the comfortable environs of the library of the Jubail British Academy. Oh, I didn't just want to read them. I also wanted to be transported back to being that kid who lost himself in Narnia along with Peter, Edmund and the rest of the gang.

Since then, I have been trying to get back literature I immensely enjoyed as a kid. I even went back and read a couple of my favorite Enid Blyton series during those days, the 5 Find Outers. Go Fatty! (Though I have to admit, I did not enjoy those as much as I thought I would, and ended up giving them as a birthday gift to my cousin's kid!). A lot of them, I have been able to trace. Though some of them are still lost to me. I would love to get my hands on some of Nina Bawden's work, which I used to love. I remember the White Horse Gang was my fave. But despite this, I was delighted at coming across some which I had even forgotten about. Like the other day, while browsing in Odyssey, I came across the complete collection of The Borrowers. This series, the result of a wonderfully imaginative germ of an idea, of little people who live in the recesses of our houses, was something I had forgotten about. Of course, once I saw it, I had to grab it.

Shucks... where are those old Buster's I used to be crazy about??

A tribute to MJ

So the King is dead. Long live the king.
I am, of course, referring to the untimely demise of the King of Pop, MJ. Though i hadn't been listening to his songs for a long time now, other than the occasional song ("Stranger in Moscow" is one of those few which i found evergreen with me), after i heard of this, i uploaded arond 50 of his classics into my mp3 player and vowed to listen to only him for the next week atleast.
As the beats came back, so did the memories. Billie Jean, Beat It, Dangerous, Liberian Girl, Give into Me, Man in the Mirror, and a lot of others. MJ was not just any musician. He was the kind of musician who came along once in two generations. His music and videos probably revolutionalised the whole MTV music video culture. I still remember how terrified i got as a kid when i saw and heard 'Thriller' for the first time. I remembered those days in Saudi Arabia, all those years ago, when i used to listen to his tapes over and over again, on the old tape recorder we had at the time. MJ and Bryan Adams were probably my introduction to the wonderful world of music.
Of course, in recent times, he was becoming too weird for anyone. There were always those allegations of child molestation, as well as rumours of his bankruptcy. Not to forget his deteriorating skin condition.
I dont know enough to comment on these, so I'm not going to. But, all i do know, is that his music will live on. And deservedly so. Here's to you, MJ. From a kid who grew up with you a big part of his life.

Dukes of Hazard

Thank God (yea, the one i dont believe in much) for the mavericks. The non conformists.
This was the thought that ran through my mind as i sat gulpin away mug after mug of the Kingfisher on a Friday nite after a tiring week in office. With my project mate and chief partner in crime, AsP. Must be the only time a PA in infy had to promise a beer to his resource to get something done! ;)
I like something about the ones who retain their recklessness for life even after supposedly growing up. Which is tough to find in the place and industry i am in. Where people try to become avuncular even before their into their mid twenties. Can't stand them. The so called 'respectable' order they try to bring into everything in life. The home. The demure wife. The two kids. The housing loan. Gimme a friggin' break.
Coming back to this particular nite, as the beer poured in, we started enunciating on the ladies we loved and lost, the intimate adventures with them, the self obsession we have for ourselves (which probably finally explained to me why i love bein pampered by whichever girl i am with at the time), and the managers who have tried to make life hell. Finally, as my last bus was about to leave, AsP decided it was not enough. With the promise of a midnight drunk drive on his trusted Activa, we stayed back to down a few more. In the meanwhile, called AA back from where he was halfway to his home, and AA bein the sweet guy he is, came back to watch us indulge ourselves and listened patiently to whatever we spewed on the nite.
Finally, after a couple of cigarettes more, we decided it was time to take the trip to Sus Rd. Staggeringly, we got onto the Activa and let loose. I would never promote the idea of drunk driving, but somehow on the nite, it was great. Poor AsP did not realise how much out of his way he would have to go to let me off home, but go he did. And took the lonely trip back to his joint. Thanks to the hangover next morning, I could not even wake up for my weekend tennis session with Ab, despite his six missed calls and life threatening SMS'.

Like i said, Thank God for the mavericks. The world won't go round right without 'em.

A Day in Baroda

Me 'n SiK finally made it for Ta's marriage. A trip which had started off as a plan for 4 days, including sight seeing around Gujarat, finally whittled down to a single day's rush to catch the marriage and reception and rush back to attend work on Monday. A slew of factors, including my ten day break and SiK's engagement contributed to us only being able to spend a day for this. But we had promised to ourselves we would attend her marriage whatever happens, and we did, finally.
I have to say... Despite my reservations about Modi's Gujarat, i was impressed with what i saw. Baroda (or Vadodara) was a clean, developed and quite modern city. I wish more Indian cities took off after the model i saw there. Each part of the city seemed to have been carefully planned and laid out and the buildings were all neat and modern. Me 'n SiK definitely wished we could have had a couple of days more there.
As for the bride herself, Ta was probably the most excited and bubbly bride i have seen till now. She had an easy vibrancy and positivity which rubbed off on us pretty easily. It has only been a few months since we came in touch with her, but it already seems like we've known her for long. The days in Infy came back to me when we three did a lot of things together. My favourite of the lot: When we formed the team of three for the PE Sports Day Table Tennis Tournament. Despite the fact that all three of us hadn't played in quite a long while, we reached the second round in all sections (the double, and the singles for each of us).
SiK is also getting hitched by the end of the year. Here's to the good memories. And to the everlasting buddies, without whom life would have been such a drag.

Ghostwriter

I just finished watching another episode of Ghostwriter. For the uninitiated, Ghostwriter was a popular kids show during the 90's which involved a gang of kids in NY and their invisible ghost friend, who they couldn't see, but who could make words out of letters. With the help of this ghost buddy, they went around NYC solving various mysteries. The episodes were always in 4 or 5 part mysteries, and I used to love them. I remember in Saudi, as a kid, i would want to wear pens around my neck just like they used to. Got a couple of my friends to do the same too.

Anyways, the funny thing was, i just realized how much i still like the show, 10-15 years after i first saw it. Now when i revisit it, i realize the show was not only entertaining, but also dealt with a lot of issues which a lot of adults would do good to take note of. It celebrates the power of togetherness and friendship, as well as showing glorious examples of steadfast loyalty to the ones you love, passion and determination, as well as an aversion to violence in any form. I remember the show was probably one of the first ones i saw where the kids who made up the gang where all of different ethnicities. There was Jamal, the African American, Tina the Chinese American, Alex and Gaby, the Hispanics as well as Lenni, the true blue American. Yet, without ever getting preachy, it managed to make us care for these kids and put across the point that with tolerance, understanding and friendship, the differences don’t really matter. Another thing i liked about it was the importance given to writing. It genuinely encouraged kids to take up writing more.

The poignant thing is though, all the kids who played a part of this have now all gone to the 'Where are they now' list. I looked up their limited profiles available on IMDB, and it looks like hardly any of them went onto any more acting assignments. Though they all seemed to have graduated from university. That was surprising for me, considering they all seemed to have the natural flair for the screen. Especially the unmentioned leader Sheldon Turnipseed (Jamal) and Blaze Berdahl (Lenni), who seemed to have it in them to carry it off on the big screen.

I don't know if they still make 'em like this for kids, but somehow i doubt it.

Three Cups of Tea

Mortenson's "3 cups of tea" is a marvel. Though it is written as a novel, it is an actual account of Greg Mortenson's journey through the years, ever since he made a promise to the village headman of a small, impoverished and remote village in the unforgiving altitudes near the Himalayas in Pakistan. That was a promise to build a school for Korphe's children. Mortenson was reeling at the time from a failed attempt to climb K2 and as fate may have it, wandered lost and disillusioned into this village. Here he was taken care of by the people and especially its headman, Haji Ali.

Mortenson has been declared as "An American Hero" by many. I'm not sure about the American part of it, but he definitely is a hero. At a time when Americans were treated with fear and hostility in that part of the world, this is a person who has made it a virtual second home, with his tireless dedication to the cause. A cause which ultimately is as powerful an attempt to curb the growth of religious extremists in the region as any war waged. A large proportion of the kids who join extremist groups end up doing so because of a lack of alternatives. A lack of an alternative to studying in an extremist madrassa. Or to joining fundamentalist groups thereafter. Mortenson’s schools give these kids in areas that are far beyond the reach of their countries' governments, a chance to a normal education, especially the girls. And he comes across as an unbiased citizen of the world, who tries to clear up a lot of misconceptions people, especially Americans, may have had about Muslims since 9/11.

The book takes us from his arduous journey building one school, to finding his network of support in Pakistan and Afghanistan as well as the US, to building hundreds of schools in the area. There is a part where he goes into the heart of the Wazir tribes villages, and how he gets locked up for sometime, before they let him go, and of how, plenty of so called conservative mullahs become vocal supporters of his cause for education of their children, especially the girls.

The books tagline says "One Man's Mission to Promote Peace... One School at a Time". There could not be a more fitting title. At a time when the world is reeling under the effects of terror in various forms, this is an inspiring account which can restore faith in the power of goodness. I would suggest everyone to get a copy of this one or at least check out their website at: http://www.threecupsoftea.com/

Hard Rock in Pune

Finally got a chance to drop into the Hard Rock Cafe in Pune today with the two "Su" gals.. Sushi and Suzy :) ... Got to admit, i was blown away by the decor and the ambience. Been hearin bout Hard Rock for a long time now, and since its finally come to Pune, we had to check it out. Loved the interiors and the music. And that add on.. When the waiters (and one very sexy lady) got on the bar and all danced to a tune. I guess all you can say is.. Rock On!

Firaaq

I think I'm in love. With Nandita Das. Of course, her choices in her acting career have never been anything but exemplary, so I was expecting her maiden directorial venture, Firaaq, to be good atleast. But i was unprepared for the extent to which i was moved by this moving tapestry of a few lives after the Gujarat riots.
Inevitably, there will be the usual community lovers who will cry out without even watching the movi of how these movies only show one side of the story or only the suffering suffered by one community. I loved the response she had for one of those. "I'm not pro-Muslim, I'm pro-humanity'. It expressed the sentiment throughout the movie beautifully. Or how she responded to Modi's response to have a 'special' screening of the movie by retorting that the movie has been released, he can go watch it.
The film is helped in a large measure by the amazingly talented ensemble of actors, the more famous of them being Naseerudin Shah, Sanjay Suri (a very under rated actor in my opinion), Deepti Naval, Paresh Rawal and Shahana Goswami (of Rock On fame).
Incidentally, i went to watch the movie with Af, a pal who follows Islam, but who i found to be more liberal and openminded than most others i know. A fitting response to all those prejudiced and so called educated fools out there.

Heck, i sure hope she keeps making movies more often.

See no evil

There is a criminal trial going on in Austria right now which is grabbing a lot of headlines both for the sensational nature of its trial and the gruesomeness of the actual crime itself. I came across an in depth article of the crime at the link below, and I was gripped with a sense of utter despondency while reading its description:
http://www.hotklix.com/?ref=link/484439

Although I have been confronted with the concept of what I thought was pure evil before, this was the most recent one which I came across. I always wonder.. to what extent are we capable of cruelty to another person? Examples I have heard and read of seems to point to a limitless capability for the same. And you cant help wondering... can anyone be driven to that extent by their inner demons and desires?

Cafe Leo's

Dropped into Leopold's the other day with one of my fave partners in crime, Ar S. I was in Mumbai to see my parents and sis off, and once done, i figured its time i visited this place i'v heard a lot about. Since AS is still recovering from a bad accident, we had to take the long taxi trip from Goregaon to Colaba, though it did provide us a good view of Mumbai from one end to another. Considering that i have been wanting to visit the place ever since i fell in love with "Shantaram" and its characters, when we did finally zero in on the place, it was a bit surprising. It looked like an innocuous enough place. The place had become more famous recently in the light of the recent terror attacks in Mumbai (there are a couple of bullet holes still preserved in the glass). However, the place was thronging with foreigners and Indians alike. I guess that is the one of the best responses that people can give... "cant scare us off".


Anywayz... we stayed there for a while before we decided to get off and hit one of our favourite sheesha joints for a puff. Considering it was his recovery period, he wasnt really supposed to have anythin to drink.. but what the hell.. we had finally come to Leopolds, so we ordered a couple of Becks'. The whole time i was there i kept imagining i could see Gregory David Roberts and his pals discussing life, love and other philosophies on one of the tables, but i guess i was letting my imagination run away a bit there.


So thats another spot added to my list of fave hotel getaways in Mumbai and Pune.

Benjamin's Button

I wasn't too impressed with the movie. It was too long and too boring, to put it bluntly. At no point could I really connect with the character and Brad Pitt, though a good actor, was too wooden in this movie. It's too bad David Fincher almost won an Oscar for this movie, considering he has made some gems in the past, including the underrated 'Zodiac' from 2007.

One aspect of the movie critics seemed to be harping on about was supposedly the amazing chemistry between Brad Pitt and Cate Blanchett. And one picture I saw the other day from the movie really made me believe it. The one above... The way they are standing in front of the mirror with Cate's reflection looking back at the real life Pitt, made it look amazing.

Unfortunately, in the movie itself, the chemistry was hardly there, and the scene shown above was hardly noticable. The movie ended up (for me) looking like a wannabe 'Forrest Gump'.

Thank God it only won the Oscars which it really deserved, for art direction and makeup.