Norwegian Wood

Murakami has a strangely languorous, easy going style to his writing which makes his books easy and quick reads. This may of course be in part due to some great translation from the Japanese by Jay Rubin of his books. Or it may be because I still haven’t read some of his supposedly more complex works. I was introduced to Murakami with his small, quirky but ultimately intriguing novel After Dark. This made me interested in exploring more of his work. Finally I zeroed in on his most popular work, the one which made him (unwontedly) into a celebrity in his home country and later elsewhere in the world. Norwegian Wood.

The story begins with the narrator, Toru Watanabe in a flight and hearing the Beetles Norwegian Wood playing. This takes him back to his student days in Tokyo and his first love, Naoki (whose favorite song it was), who was also the girlfriend of his best and probably only friend during those days Kizuki. A life of disillusionment, confusion and aimlessness, he had moved to Tokyo to pursue his drama course. Not out of any great passion for the subject, but because it offered him a relatively easy way to university in Tokyo. Toru does not have any particular ambitions or passions, it would seem. Perpetually indifferent or bored at the antics of the world and its superficial denizens, he drifts along attending lectures or reading the Great Gatsby. He also thinks back to the days he shared with his best friend Kizuki and his girl Naoki. They were almost a perfect company until darkness sets in and things are never the same again. He runs into Naoki in Tokyo and they start spending time with each other. However, Naoki has demons of her own and she has to depart. Toru drifts back to his aimless existence until he comes across an impetuous and wildly different young woman, Midori. A strong, at times ambiguous relationship develops between them and Watanabe starts wondering where his heart really lies.

The book deals with the existential angst faced by a lot of urban class youth in their early to mid twenties, not just in Japan but the world over. Toru is a character who, though an upright and nice guy, can never understand the superficial and phony desires and behavior of most of the people around him. At times an almost Holden Caulfield kind of character, which is mentioned in the book once. Midori is a wonderfully fresh and invigorating entry into his life and ours while reading this great book. The theme of loss, pain, desire, passion, helplessness and enduring love are seamlessly explored in the book and strikes a chord among the readers. If anything, this book has encouraged me to explore more of Murakami’s more complicated work.

World Cup Diary – Jun 28

Ah yes. I had a feeling this would turn out to be a good birthday. The moment I realized that Holland would be playing their second round match today I had decided. The stars had aligned correctly. The heavens were conspiring to make Holland win on my birthday. Perfect.

And they did win, pretty comfortably. Despite the fact that they still do not seem to be at their fluid best, they have negotiated their four matches till now with consummate ease. And with Arjen Robben barely playing a part till today. Today, he finally made the starting line up, and how he made his mark on the tournament. A great goal and Holland were on their way. Sneijders second in the second half confirmed it, while Slovakia’s last gasp penalty gave an unnecessary respectability to the scoreline. The truth was, Holland hardly looked like losing this match. And considering the ease with which they managed to survive a good part of the second half without Robben and Van Persie (who were substituted) shows the management’s confidence in the bench. If Brazil do, as expected, make it through their match against Chile, expect a nail biting contest in Cape Town. Undoubtedly, that will bring back memories of the last great Dutch team’s heartbreaking loss on penalties to Brazil at France ’98. That team had the De Boer brothers, Overmars, Kluivert, Davids, Seedorf, Jonk… and the peerless Dennis Bergkamp, but they fell at the penultimate hurdle. Can the class of 2010 lay to rest the ghosts?

Yesterday night’s match saw Argentina, as expected, convincingly book their place in the quarterfinals against a very good Mexico team, who must be wondering what they have to do to break their second round jinx. Since USA ’94, they have been exiting every world cup at this stage. However, the result was again marred by a laughably bad decision, when Tevez was yards offside for Argentina’s first goal. The poor referee’s angst was increased when the stadium organizers, in a major gaffe, showed replays of the goal right after. But since the referee has no right to change his decision based on TV replays, the goal had to stand. FIFA and their human element. Go figure.

World Cup Diary – Jun 27

So, belatedly, I decide to start writing about this world cup. The second round match between England and Germany has just got over, and a young, exciting German team has just hammered an English team which has been looking woefully average throughout the tournament so far. Of course, England will point to the wrongly disallowed goal from Lampard, but you get a feeling that it may not have made much of a difference in the final outcome. That, however, does not excuse FIFA and their archaic norm of not allowing video technology into the game. According to their much maligned head, Sepp Blatter, introduction of video technology will supposedly take away the human element from the game. Well, I’m pretty sure nobody will mind this sort of human element being taken away.

While I wait for the next mouth watering clash between Argentina and Mexico to start, I felt like reflecting on what has so far been a pretty exciting tournament. The first few days of matches were pretty boring leading me to wonder if this world cup will ever come to life, but once the initial matches were over, the fun began. The state of a lot of the groups at the end of the first round may not exactly been what many had in mind before the games began. Who would have ever believed that the Slovaks had it in them to send the reigning world champs, Italy, back home bottom of their group? Their figurehead from that triumph four years ago, Fabio Cannavaro, cut a sorry figure as he comforted his teammates after the game. It was obvious a lot of this was past their prime and Lippi probably should have blooded a few new faces. Though, on the evidence of what was seen, it didn’t look like the new faces were any better. In the same group, New Zealand showed, why despite not possessing world class personnel, their attitude and determination (along with their Oceania neighbors, Australia) will always make them a threat in any sport. A team expected to be cannon fodder for the other teams in the group, ended up undefeated with three draws and on top of Italy. Great Stuff.

And what about the Asians? South Korea were expected to be pretty strong this time around and were given a chance of making it through, and they did that though they did look a bit shaky in the last group game against Nigeria, whose striker Yekubu probably made the miss of any match I have seen so far when he shot wide with the goal gaping at him and just a few feet away. South Korea may be out now to a Uruguay side starting to look ever more dangerous, but they are definitely progressing from the days they were just also rans. On the other hand, Japan had seemed a shaky bet before the tournament started, but they have impressed even more with two victories. The second of these, the clincher against Denmark was achieved with astonishing certitude, including two great free kicks in a tournament which has seen a paucity of free kick goals. In fact, the Asians seem to have learnt to control the much derided Jabulani ball than their counterparts. South Korea also scored a direct free kick off the Nigerians and almost scored an early shocker against Uruguay. The third Asian representative, the unknown North Koreans, may have been hammered by Portugal, but showed enough in their first match against Brazil to win a lot of fans. An enduring image is that of their Japan based striker Jong Tae Se crying while their national anthem was playing. His style of play was increasingly impressive, with his holding techniques among others not something seen much in European football these days. And when they got that late consolation against Brazil, everyone seemed to be taken aback. All in all, a great performance so far in a tournament the Africans were supposed to come to the fore.

Which brings us to the debacle of the Africans. Though no host nation had failed to get past the opening round so far in World Cups, no one really expected the South Africans to make it. However, when the Bafana Bafana opened the tournament with a wonder strike and eventually drew with a strong Mexican team, hope was raised. Before Uruguay brought them crashing down with an emphatic victory. They may have won against a horrible French side, but by then the writing was already on the wall. As for the African sides, Cameroon and Nigeria flattered to deceive and were overtaken by their Asian rivals Japan and South Korea respectively. Algeria never looked threatening enough, other than the bore draw with England which was probably the worst match of the tournament so far. Ivory Coast had the misfortune of once again finding themselves in the group of death, but even otherwise they hardly looked like world beaters. It looks like their golden generation will fade into the sunset without much to show for at the international level. Finally, it is Ghana like the previous world cup, who will be the sole torch bearers for Africa in the next round. They have just made the quarterfinals after an impressive extra time victory over the United States and will look to go further. This is an impressive Ghana side. When you consider the fact that their foremost player and creative fulcrum, Michael Essien is not even playing and their other experienced stars like Sulley Muntari and Steven Appiah have been marginal figures so far, their progress looks very promising for the future. They may have been lucky in the group stages, but they came into their own against a good American side. Otherwise, though, it is back to the drawing board for the African teams, who will have to realize that without strong planning and organization they really cannot hope to mount a serious challenge.

What of the Spaniards and the Argentines? The Spanish, amazingly, lost their opening match to a dour and boring Swiss side, but came back strongly to win against Honduras and an impressive Chile side. David Villa seems set to make the tournament his own after 3 stunning strikes so far, one of them a great spectacle of confidence and accuracy from 35 meters out against Chile. I expect them to come into their own in the latter stages. Argentina, managed by the eccentric genius Maradona, have looked great in the opening fixtures though there is a concern that their defence may have issues against quality opposition. But when you have team having a forward line of Tevez, Higuain, Milito… Oh, and I haven’t even mentioned the best player in the world yet, Lionel Messi. He may nto have scored yet but his contribution has been substantial so far. Expect great things from them. Though I wonder if I do want to see them win, considering Maradona has said he would run naked in Buenos Aires if they do.

And finally, Oranje… The Dutch team I always have a soft spot for. They may not have shown much of their total football yet, with dour victories against Denmark and Japan, but you could see the signs of it coming back in the last group game against Cameroon when they won with two wonderful goals. And considering Arjen Robben has still played only a minor part till now, once he fully returns… I wonder… Dare the Oranje start dreaming now?

The Catcher in the Rye

Holden Caulfield hates the organized order life has to offer. He particularly hates anything he feels is ‘phony’. He would not do anything just because it is supposed to be done that way in life. Even if that means he would be kicked out of one prestigious school after another.

JD Salinger’s ‘Catcher in the Rye’ is one of those classics I have been trying to read for a while now. And when I caught a glimpse of the new Penguin edition at a Crossword’s nearby, I figured I might as well grab it. And started it off soon after that, pushing it above at least 10 other books I had on my ‘to read’ queue.

The book opens with Holden saying that he would not be talking about his lousy childhood or his parents, because he doesn’t really want to. It starts off with him letting us know that he has been kicked out of another school because he just wouldn’t buck up and get the grades required. Why wouldn’t he do it? He doesn’t really say it explicitly, but it’s obvious that he just didn’t want to. He decides to meet his English professor before he leaves, since he likes the old guy. English is the one subject he loves and aces, considering his love for literature. Once there, he soon wants to leave, as the professor rambles on about why he should improve his lot in life. It goes on from there, describing his roomie (who, though a stud, seems to be on the shallow side) and his idiosyncratic neighbor. He finds out his room mate has a date with a girl Holden used to be close with from his childhood, and he can’t help imagining what they would be up to. There is also a brother who died, and who Holden very obviously loved. He also deeply loves his younger sister Phoebe, and decides she is the one person he would like to meet before he runs away, if he ever decides to do so.

The prose is very easy on the mind, and moves in a fluid manner, so that the reader would feel tempted to continue reading. Most of the book after that deals with what happens when Holden decides to leave the school before his official last day, and spend a couple of nights in New York (but not at his home). The character of Holden Caulfield, does seem to be a bit confusing at times. Initially it seems like he is a loner who shuns most of the world as being below him with a casual arrogance. However, later on it becomes clear that he does like having the company of those same people sometimes, because he feels extremely lonely and depressed. He even goes back to an old girlfriend he actually feels is way too shallow, and tries to get her to run away with him somewhere. After it doesn’t work out he realizes that he probably should not even have told her. This is mixed up in between with accounts describing the tenderness he feels for his younger sister. Probably a reference to how it’s children who are the least ‘phony’ of all, at least until they get influenced by the world around them.

The book is a good look into the adolescent angst teenagers go through. A time in life when most kids start realizing things may not be the way they seemed while they were small, and when some start rebelling against the organized order and some finally accept the vagaries and organization of the world. Holden is probably in some ways a reflection of the author himself. Salinger was supposed to be extremely reclusive, who, beyond a point decided to stop publishing his work, and just write for himself. After his death, it came to light that he had a lot of unpublished work he was working on.

So, finally, is it worth all the plaudits? Well, though I may not call it one of my favorites, I would still say it’s definitely worth a good read!

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 Cellist of Sarajevo

The Siege of Sarajevo was the longest siege of a capital city in the history of modern warfare. Serb forces of the self-proclaimed Republika Srpska and the Yugoslav People's Army besieged Sarajevo, the capital city of Bosnia and Herzegovina, from April 5, 1992 to February 29, 1996 during the Bosnian War. The aim of the siege was to create a new Serbian State of Republika Srpska (RS) that would include part of the territory of Bosnia and Herzegovina, after the latter had gained independence from Yugoslavia. It is estimated that nearly 10,000 people died during the siege while thousands of others were wounded.

Steven Galloway’s The Cellist of Sarajevo is based on the grim, harsh and unrelenting life in the city during these days. The author beautifully and poignantly captures the emotions of a few characters and their approach to even simple tasks during the dark period. There is Arrow, a woman who has become a counter sniper for the government forces. She has given up her old life, her old name in order to protect the city she once loved from the Serb forces attacking the city from the surrounding hills. But as time goes on she starts wondering… What is the difference between her and them? Her hate for them has crossed all noble intentions and now she seems to be at times driven by the lust of the kills. Will she give up on all her ideals in the battle to defend her city?

Kenan is a normal man who used to work as a clerical officer before the siege began. He lives with his wife and children and still dreams of the days when the city was a safe place and when he could take his kids out for a walk and an ice cream without worrying about being hit by shells or sniper fire. Now he hides away in his apartment, and goes out only when it is time to replenish their water supply. Crossing the streets to go to one end of the city to fetch water from the brewery is not as simple as it seems. Every intersection, every road has to be treaded with fear as the snipers could strike at any moment on an innocent passerby. Kenan’s attempts to cross the city safely to get safe drinking water for his family one day forms another thread of the narrative.

Dragan still has a job, in the bakery. He had managed to get his wife and son out of the city before the siege began and now lives with his sister and brother in law. He makes a similar trip to Kenan’s to get bread for them. However, he is so disturbed by what the people in his once happy and friendly city have become that he doesn’t want to talk to anyone he knew once, for fear of losing even more hope than he already has. Then a chance encounter with an old friend of his wife forces him to rethink his position.

Interlinking all of this is the Cellist. This is probably the most beautiful character in the story, and is actually based on a true life character. The Cellist witnesses a mortar attack which kills 22 people who were queuing up to buy bread. From that day on, he decides to take a stool and sit at that spot to play Albinoni's Adagio everyday at the same time for 22 days. To honor each person who died there. Despite the obvious danger to be sitting in the open everyday and the perceived futility of this task, why does he do it? And will he survive without being shot at?

Galloway has beautifully interspersed each thread of the story with poignant memories each of the characters have for the city and the life they once knew. As the shelling and shooting goes on day after day, they start wondering, will it ever get back to what it once was? When even the simple task of crossing a road becomes a race to save your life, how long can our hopes and memories keep us going?

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!!!

K'naan - Wavin' Flag

I love this song. This truly captures the spirit of the world cup of football. My favorite world cup song since Ricky Martin's Cup of Life back in France '98.
The singer K'naan is a Somali-Canadian poet, rapper, singer, and musician.
Let the party begin!!


When i get older i will be
stronger they'll call me freedom just
like a wavin flag

When i get older i will be
stronger they'll call me freedom just
like a waving flag
and then it goes back (3x)
ahhho ahhho ahhho

Born to a throne
stronger than Rome
but violent prone
poor people zone
but its my home
all i have known
where i got grown
streets we would roam

out of the darkness
i came the farthest
among the hardest survive
learn form these streets
it can be bleak
accept no defeat
surrender retreat
(so we struggling)
fighting to eat
(and we wondering)
when we will be free
so we patiently wait
for that faithful day
its not far away
but for now we say

when i get older i will be
stronger they'll call me freedom just
like a waving flag
and then it goes back (3x)

ahhho ahhho ahhho

so many wars
settling scores
bring us promises
leaving us poor
i heard them say
love is the way
love is the answer
thats what they say

but look how they treat us
make us believers
we fight their battles
then they deceive us
try to control us
they couldn't hold us

cause we just move forward
like buffalo soldiers
(but we strugglin)
fighting to eat
(and we wondering)
when we will be free
so we patiently wait
for that faithful day
its not far away
but for now we say

when i get older i will be
stronger they'll call me freedom just
like a waving flag
and then it goes back (3x)

and then it goes when i get older i will be
stronger they'll call me freedom just
like a wavin flag
and then it goes back (3x)
ahhhooo ahhhoooo ahhhooo

and everybody will be singing it
and you and i will be singing it
and we all will be singing it
wo wah wo ah wo ah

when i get older i will be
stronger they'll call me freedom just
like a wavin flag
and then it goes back (3x)

and then it goes when i get older i will be
stronger they'll call me freedom just
like a wavin flag
and then it goes back (3x)
a oh a oh a oh

when i get older
when i get older
i will be stronger

just like a wavin flag (3x)
flag flag
just like a wavin flag

For anyone who wants to watch a nice little montage of moments with this song:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eMAy7cG03rk&feature=related

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.

Kerala Café

I finished watching Ranjith’s experiment, Kerala Café the other day. Ten different short stories by ten different directors combined to form a single movie. The experiment has been done, of course, in other languages, including in Bollywood (Dus Kahaniyaan). However, in the barren wasteland of creativity that Malayalam cinema has become since the turn of the century, Ranjith is one maker who keeps trying to revolutionize the industry, almost as a one man army out to repair the damage.

The movie has various stories from 10 directors, some established and some new. The opening is a story of NRI angst and memories, in a story fittingly called Nostalgia. Though this is not among the best, it does in a way capture NRI attitudes with respect to Kerala, and Dileep does well portraying a character with shades of grey.

After this, we see Prithviraj in all his effortless dashing best, talking about Jesus, Frankenstein and Mangalassery Neelakantan and about his ‘bitch’. As only he can do these days, he pulls it off, in what turns out to be a touching story of a gathering of people from different walks of life, who bear common witness to a tragedy which affected them all. Called ‘Island Express’, this stars Jayasurya and Rahman as well and is one of my favorites from the collection.

The next was a story on adultery by Shaji Kailas with Suresh Gopi. It’s a relief to know that Shaji hasn’t totally lost it. Another decent effort to add to. After that is Uday Ananthan's Mrityunjayam, which has Fahd Fazil in a new avatar as compared to his last outing a few years back in his dad’s venture. A horror movie, it does manage to send a chill or two down your spine, but still not one of the best here. Despite that, Fahd definitely does look much more assured now.

The next story is Anjali Menon’s Happy Journey. This one beautifully captures the mind of a middle class Keralite male(Jagathy) who, on a night journey in a bus, tries to get flirty and touchy with a young co passenger next to him. What follows is a brilliant game of one-upmanship between them, which keeps the viewer guessing. I do hope that Anjali’s Manjadikuru gets a release in Kerala. If this short feature is anything to go by, her full length movie must be great.
After this, there are a couple of nice efforts including one on the effects of recession (brilliantly acted by Siddique and Shweta Menon) and another by Shyamprasad. Good to know he can do the light hearted ventures too.

However, one of the best here is Anwar Rasheed’s Bridge. A brilliantly metaphorical and hauntingly sad tale about a son who tries to lose his mother, much the same way as a dad tries to lose the stray cat his son had brought home. The story talks of themes of helplessness, desolation and love and is beautifully acted (mainly Salim Kumar). Amazingly, this is done by Anwar Rasheed, the same guy who did those mindless potboilers with Mammooty and Mohanlal before this. I sure hope he continues on this path rather than go back to those.

PuramKazhchakal, starring Sreenivasan and Mammooty, is the last one, and another fine one. Sreenivasan is a traveler on a bus thinking of his past, when suddenly a man in a hurry gets on the bus. Throughout the journey he pesters the driver and gets ridiculed also, while trying to get the bus to move fast. The ending of this is touching and speaks a lot of how we may not realize why someone does what he does. Mamooty is shorn of all his star power here and does brilliantly.

Seeing these 10 minute stories, I couldn’t help wondering… If these guys can do so well with short stories, why the heck can’t they start replicating this onto their longer counterparts?

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!

Avatar! WTH??

Gawd, I really wanted to like this movie. After hearing so much about it for weeks on end, I was waiting so that I could catch it in its best version, namely in IMAX 3-D. Well, finally I did get a chance over the new years weekend with my friends in Mumbai. If this is what the best version had to offer, I can imagine how much I may have disliked it in normal 2-D.

First of all, I do like good big budget actioners, which also have fresh characters and credibility of plot. The Dark Knight or the recent Star Trek are recent movies which I really liked. However, I have never been able to enjoy or like a movie which just has exorbitant special effects and no screenplay, dialogue or character development. This is probably why I actually managed to sleep through some time of the mayhem that was the second half of the first Transformers movie, and didn’t bother to watch the second one. However, I did expect James Cameron to not just make a showpiece of a movie. One of my all time favorites, T2 was done by him. You never felt in that movie that he was compromising on script, characters, dialogues or intensity for effects. I even liked Titanic quite a bit. But this one was plain disappointing. Credit has to be given where due. The idea and beauty of Pandora, and the basic premise was amazingly interesting. But the screenplay left a lot to be desired. Some of the lines uttered by Sully’s and Neytiri’s Na’vi characters are so cheesy and clichéd that you feel even the most run of the mill romantic comedies do it better. On top of that, the various scenes look like they had been picked up from a collection of good movies over the years (like the brilliant LOTR trilogy). And what in the world was all that sudden spirituality thrown in at the end? It just did not fit in credibly with the story till then.

But I guess these days, most of these movies do well. Which would explain why Transformers 2 and Avatar are among the biggest hits of the year, and Avatar will probably challenge Titanic for all time Box Office earnings. And why something beautiful and complex like Watchmen was probably not watched by half as many people as who saw Avatar. Sad though. I never thought I’ll be disappointed with Cameron.

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 ;) ...

2012.. Blah!

I really got to stop wasting my time and money on these kinda crapfests. I mean, I guess I deserve it. What was I expecting? The Dark Knight? But still, I had actually likedone of Emmerich's earlier movies, Independance Day. Atleast that had charming characters you rooted for.

This one was simply a CGI fest, and not too good also I felt. Somehow the effect of the world getting destroyed was just not there. This is what too much of CGI can do. Or it probably is just a vindication of the fact that no matter how much special effects you have, you cannot replace a good script and good acting.

I dont want to give the impression that I'm some sort of art house fanatic or that Cusack and Ejiofor are bad actors. I loved movies like the recent Star Trek and The Dark Knight. Its just that these guys were plain cheesy and over the top in this one. For starters, why the heck are we rooting for Cusacks family when the rest of humanity is going under? There is hardly any connect with the characters, which is required in this kind of flick which focuses on a group of survivors. I can get past the cliches of Cusack and co. escaping from every danger in the nick of time with hardly plausible scenarios. But this was plain bad. Even the supposedly "deep" scene between two monks near the Himalayas somewhere seemed laughably funny. Something about emptying your head and all. Yea, makes sense, if you want to enjoy this movie.

I guess I should not be ranting when it was pretty obvious what will be in the movie. But it is sad when these kind of fare make hundreds of millions and genuinely felt movies hardly rake in anything. I think I will be giving Emmerich's movies a break for some time now. Add that to the Michael Bay list (unless of course, he makes another Bad Boys, which by the sheer force of Will Smith's and Martin Lawrence's charm actually is quite enjoyable).

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??

Arzee the Dwarf

Arzee the dwarf, the refreshing new book from first time author Chandrahas Choudary is a good read. A small book, the hardback version comes in at less than 200 pages. However, the book could have been even better if certain cliches of every story had been avoided.
Arzee is a small man. A pretty small one, or a dwarf to be more precise, living in Mumbai. He has been working as a assisstant projectionist at the Noor cinema for almost a decade. The story starts off with Arzee playing cards with his friends, and telling them the news he has been carrying around in his mind for the whole day. The head projectionist, Phiroz, is retiring after more than 30 years at the Noor, and Arzee would, in all probability be promoted in his place. His life seems to be looking up, and he starts having dreams of a normal life like everyone else, including marriage, kids, the works.
However, the next day, he hears a piece of news which brings his world crashing down, and things which looked so rosy just a day ago, suddenly seem anything but.
The book is peppered with interesting dialogue and characters, like Deepak, the betting syndicate member after Arzee to get his money back, or Phiroz and his daughter, as well as Arzee's mom. However, certain things could have been done without. The hairdresser model girlfriend, who also seems classy, is just too much of a far cry to be believable. The way she falls for this dwarf who is hardly sophisticated, with barely anything said between them, does not make much sense. And the climactic melodrama could have been done without.
However, in spite of these glitches, the book is an arresting read, and should be tried.

JFK

"What is Past is Prologue"…

I just got over another viewing of Oliver Stone's JFK, this time the Directors cut, which runs for around 3 hrs 20 mins. As always, I was not bored for a single second of this high octane, virtually paranoia driven dialogue. And I got reminded again why it is one of my favorite movies. I've always been a fan of the political thrillers with espionage thrown in, and JFK is undoubtedly one of the best (if not the best) of these. This is Oliver Stone at his best (which is telling, because there have been a lot of instances, especially in recent times, when it seems he has lost it). His Vietnam trilogy not withstanding.

Based on the true life memoirs of Jim Garrison, who was, as per the movie, the only person to bring a trial in the Kennedy assassination, this movie holds you from the first scene till the end. Unless of course, you’re the kind who rates a movie’s greatness based on the special effects. In which case, I would suggest you go for the Transformers sequel, as most of the world seems to be.

Kevin Costner plays Jim Garrison, the New Orleans DA, who (after 3 years) discovers that things were just not right with the investigation and findings of the Warren commission regarding the murder of John F. Kennedy. Together with his office, a small yet dedicated bunch, he sets out to investigate. Against all odds and a labyrinth of characters, threats, murders and political intrigue, he manages to bring forth the case to trial. Regardless of the outcome of the trial, the final monologue by Costner has to be seen to be believed. And felt. No matter how many times I see this, it always brings a lump to my throat, as Costner elaborates on just why this is so important. Reminds you that Costner is capable of being there with the very best, despite some of the crap he dishes out at times.

As for the actual case, was there conspiracy involving the CIA, the govt, the FBI, and the anti-Cuban and anti-communist forces? Or is Oliver Stone just a paranoid genius, as many say? Well, I don’t know, but the power of the movie can be gauged from the fact that it turned me, a completely disinterested person, into a believer.