pahadganj-a

the auto zips through the bylanes of Shahid Bhagat singh Marg.... its night, around 7pm. the delhi winter made its presence felt, much more than required, and that day wasnt any different. it was cold, fiery, for some weird reason. you already know beforehand, sometimes, the things that are going to unfold in the next few hours. the auto takes me to extremely conjusted and dirty lanes and suddenly i see outside and we'r surrounded by a million lodges. all around me they were just arbid names of hotels, motels, lodges and ofcoz the guest houses. the auto guy stops me there. he tells me "saab, yeh raha pahadganj"

sometime back: when i asked the auto driver if he would take me to pahadganj, there was an instant stare from him. i was a little taken aback... did i say something wrong", i asked myself. a few seconds later after he curtained his look, he asked where in Pahadganj, i told him "the german bakery". he said " acha, saat bajhe ho rahe saab, jaana chahoge?"
i said "ha, kyun", he said "nahi, aise hi pooch liya tha, chalo beto".

the first thought i got when i saw the place in its totality, was, oh bloody hellllll. where am i. if chandini chowk is crowded and dirty, then pahadganj is its son. bloody crwoded and filled with curious customers, onlookers, hippies, foriegners, sardars, and a whole bunch of pimps. they'r everywhere. just about every lodge there is,is a brothel. Just as i was walking, someone from behind, held me across my shoulder, gave a slight jerk and asked me "u want hashish, ganja, charas, coke" i said "no, no no no thanks" he asked me further "u want ladies, gents, top, bottom, angrez or desi" it was like someone planted an atom bomb, right next to my ear, and i went numb and dumb. after a few seconds, when i recovered from my extended shock, i replied very feebly "nahi, no" he insisted that i try, and i insisted him to leave me alone and alive. he had this glare on his face, and with all curious eyes he asked me " kyun bhai, kuch tho chaiye hoga, yeh pahadganj hai, india gate nahi"

the place is occupied by thousands of foreigners. most of them who'r still in a trance. they probably smoked up weed or hash years back, and havent returned back to the normal world yet. most of them look at you with all brooding eyes, trying to tell u something, trying to give u sweet hints tat they want somethin, or just smile at you as if they knew u for quite sometime and u happened to pass by. the women there deserve a special mention for their sense of fashion. well it doesnt exist for starters, and secondly its just a few pieces of cloth, infact waste cloth from a total flop tailors shop, put together. they look bizarre. they will not talk, but their entire body makes it very clear, that they lost it long back. the men there have hair longer than that of women, and most of them are from france. u will surely get this thought atleast once in ur already clumped mind "am i in a bad version of goa".

i was enjoying all this. not that i wanted to pounce on someone and sleep with them instantly, but everything around me had only one thing screaming out loud "we dont care wat u think, we'r screwed and stoned, go to hell, or come to bed"

when i realised i spent alot of my time dazzzing around, i decided to go to the german cafe, and then the diamond cafe. both were quite close to each other, and both extremely small, but both extremely beautiful. at the german one, i had a lasagne, and it was superb. it was just perfect and it was wat i needed. but i couldnt sit there too long, cos there was this pimp who was stalking me and i was super freeked out. i thnk he traded me without my own knowledge, and any moment someone's gonna come and do something REALLY bad, was what i had in mind all the while the lasagne went into my mouth. so i quickly gobbled my lasagne, and headed to the new diamond cafe. it was a little more peacefull, and was astray of pimps. i sat there and ordered for a beer. it arrived on my table even before i could breathe the next. super fast service. well its another thing, that i sat next to the fridge. i sat there, and felt tired. not phsyically, but mentally. i was filled with all kinds of pictures and frames, and i realised why most of them there sit so dazed. its cos, the entire place is like tat. it just dissolves u, and throws u out from its core just when u wanna understand whats happenin. but mind u, i was feeling quite good. dazed, but good, even without touching a dust of weed.

just when i was tucked into my own thoughts, a white man, sat in front of me, at my table. there was no place, and hence he decided to sit there (i obviously dint need a table i thought)(it was my 5th beer). i just sighed to myself "oh god another horny phirang". anyways, after a few uncomfortable minutes, he asked me "delhi?". i was like "yeah, and you" he said, with pride "france". i was like ok so, ur like a drop from the ocean, there are like so many futrvouis here". he probably wanted to hit me, but hey they'r romantic i heard, so he said "iv been here for 6 yrs" i havent gone back home""india my country now" ouch...

his name was jeff, but he now calls himself krishna.

it was already 3 hrs since i came to pahadganj, and i felt i hardly saw anything. the craving to see more, and the blessed company of jeff/krishna was quite tempting, but passable. it was too late. it was around 9.30, and the autos wud charge alot, considering i have to travel 20 kms to get home. i carried myself (happens to me after 10 bottles of beer) to the auto stand. my mind was so peaced out, so spaced out, and still had such horrid plus amazing memeries of the place. i was still in the place, but was not scared anymore. everything abt the place will scare u whether u like it or not. everyone there looks at u, whether u glance back or not. and everyone's high, if u are or not. i was walking to the auto stand, and an auto stopped by, i told him where i needed to go. he asked me for double. i wanted to show him the middle finger, but he would have thought im telling him single meter. i kept bargaining, and fighting with him, to reduce, and just then suddenly someone held my hand and asked, "u want ladies, gents, top, bottom, desi or angrezi". i looked at the auto and screamed "DOUBLE METER CHALO JALDI"...

im goin there next week btw, for a documentry shoot. i will kill that pimp.

a good wake up call

A great script writer once quoted "there are only four stories, that need to be twisted each time, to give birth to another story"... i am a firm believer of this, and keeping this in mind, im gonna account my comments on the film Wake up sid, which i watched a couple of days back.

sid wakes up, the alarm then rings, he looks up and down, left and right for his book, the one which might save him from the temporary madness of Exams. he finds it, starts scribbling, singing, humming, digging sweet body parts and then the book is captured by the camera and we see him drawing untidy sketches of Simpson. the music begins and there goes the starting of Wake up sid with a very upbeat, yet meaningful introduction song also called Wake up sid .. predictable? I dont think so!

Very few films, create a fizz, that jazz, the curiosity to watch them further down, even though you know from frame one, their story, their ups and downs, the start, mid and ending. Wake up sid, is one such movie. From the time the promos of the movie hit the tv and cinema screens, it was easy enough to guess what the movie would be about. But, when a movie has a very upbeat and clever start such as this, u know it, that this is gonna be slightly different in its treatment. how? well read further.

im not going to waste time in unwrapping the plot and give you my analysis of the story. no thats not what i want to do. but wat i wanna do is, is tell you that this movie is just not your "same old" jaane tu ya jaane na type of college romance. Infact its not at all about romance. the movie never tries to thrust the romance into your already romance filled mind, thx to jaane, ddlg, kkhh and ofcoz ur flight of girlfriends. this movie is about that section of extremely laid back, complacent, rich and spoilt, yet very good hearted brats (thank god he's not shown as the evil rich boy like mohnish behl in all his movies) who never seem to wake up even if your dad asks you to apologise to your mother for having spoken like a total jerk, ass and wat not. the scene where ranbir screams at his mother, even though he's the one at fault, i think has been handled so brilliantly that i have hardly seen any movie dealing with similar emotions do. i literally felt like getting up from my seat, stretching my arms and slapping the shit out of ranbir kapoors face. it was thankfully not spoilt with melodrama, nor was it extremely real with unspoken words. it had its perfect blend. and thats what characterization is about.

i think i must have heard this from so many ppl who watched the movie. "Oh its like jaane tu ya jaane na". its not. im sorry if u think im mad, but it really is not. "Jaane... na" was about college romance, dwelling into something else and then finally plopping as something as serious as marriage. "Jaane tu... na" was about our first crush, our best friends loving us secretly, our cool parents accepting us as couples, friends slowly growing apart, insane traditionalism and a million literary ironies, such as godot. whereas "wake up sid is about growing up, its about dwindling between no where, roomies, internships, first interviews, the battle between hindi music and jazz, obesity, college obsession, and lots of dad's moolah spent on video games (i hate them personally,so..). i have clearly given so many differences. yes, there are a few similarities. but tat exists in every film u see these days. name one recent hindi film which u thought was unbelievably original and cannot in the name of dilip kapoor be compared to someother movie. its not possible. like i said, every movie has its similarities and its differences. wake up sid scores well on its background too. a few sequences with brilliant background score by amit heri are top notch. the scene where ranbir is about to leave konkana's house (she locks herself in the bathroom), and he keeps hesitating, the background score there, and ranbirs handling of the scene is supremely heartwarming.

but hey, im not all that good too. there were a few things in the movie which i thought could have been bettered. the most important being, Konkana sen. she is seriously getting stereotyped and i honestly feel that she needs to break out of this "dusky, beautiful, upper middle class babe in a sexy job and i will make u realise wat u are" type of role. be it Metro, Page 3, Dil Kabadi or someother movie, she has played very similar characters. ofcoz i loved her in all these movies, including wake up sid, but tats becoz she just gives her craziest performance each time. But its time she gives us something different.

Ranbir kapoor. i think this is the only movie in which he has acted. i recently read a blog, that ranbir acted like ranbir in the movie. i personally wanna meet that person and tell him, that acting is not always about going crazy about a character. sometimes it requires you to give the character your touch. how do we know ranbir s like tat or not in real life? how do we know that he blew every rupee rishi kapoor earned? we dont. so please stop saying "oh he was so himself" he acted quite well, to the extent tat you empathise with him, u get angry with his behaviour, u love him sometimes and u just disregard him sometimes. according to me if so much is interacted with the audience, then the actor has indeed done a good job (theatre speaking).

i loved Ayan mukherjee's direction. It simply shows that it has been directed by a 25 or 26 yr old chap. i can vouch and say that this film was not ghost directed by Karan Johar. because i honestly feel Kjo lacks that chutzpah, the young blood, or the energy to do such a film. Even his KKHH was so mature i thought, considering it was predominantly gonna be a college romcom. Ayan has shown, what 19yr olds do these days, and i just hate to see ppl wasting time on playstations (i simply feel it is the most important reason y couples are divorcing these days). its really nice to see him, make ranbir cry like he's really crying or make anupam kher scream at him, not in the amrish puri way, the way he dealt with obesity, and finally showing how irritating it is to clear up house old mess and converting it into a beautiful house. all this with nice background songs by shankar ehsaan loy. my favourite sone being iktara, with a close second "Life is crazy".

watch Wake up sid it for its simplicity, normal comedy, daily life situations, growing up, and waking up most importantly. and stop comparing any movie to any movie. if u dint like it, just say u dint. don ridicule it by comparing it with someone else's work. its quite pissing off i tell you.

drop by drop

Trickle down now, through that moist brown tile
dance gently on the glass, placed so well
the sound u create, gives me a chill, gives me a fizz
i seem to forget, the ground on which i dwell

Put forth your tiny leg, step by step, step by step
let me help you, here, hold me, just take my hand
place it warmly, quietly, and place it just there
look how empty, dry and barren has become, my land

Oh how painfull, the wait, the wait, oh this wait i crib
carry on, its your time, not mine, i will stand
how much can u punish, how much can u laugh
im tired of waiting though, tired till my last strand

A hundred seas go quiet at your silent journey
from where, you dribble, scribble, dally and fall
what do those mortals know, what did they see, i yell
its me who melted waiting, its me who saw it after all

110006

“If u haven’t been to chandhini chowk, then don’t ever tell anyone uv seen Delhi”, this is what the cook in my office told me recently and I suddenly remembered all the million people who’ve told me the same dialogue in different intensities. The moment I reached Delhi I decided to visit chandhini chowk ASAP, but somehow that never happened. Instead I decided to read about the place first and then venture out in “dillwallon ki dilli-chandini chowk”. Google does help you at the most crucial times in ur life, and it did not let me down this time as well. I read continuously for hours about this much discussed place. I concluded (with the help of Google and a few other books) that reading about chandini chowk is as useless as reading about KFC and its speciality. The thing is you already know what to expect, but the truth is u actually have no clue whatsoever.

After almost 10 days of constant begging and nagging and whining and bickering, my friend decided to be good to me and my urge and planned a trip to chandini chowk. I don’t know why but I was extremely excited. I honestly have never wanted to see a place so badly in my life, I mean it’s not like new York or something, so I asked myself why on god’s name am I dying to see the place. As usual I was left with no answer and a significant increase in the level of my curiouslty. The day arrived. It had to be a Saturday (something told me it will be a Saturday or Sunday) (I secretly wanted to see the place with maximum crowd).

We woke up early that day, got get ready and headed out. I was told that the place is quite far and taking the car there would be a sin. So we had to reach Connaught place, from where we supposed to catch the metro to chandini chowk. Now this made me even more childishly happy because I have given my heart away to the Delhi metro. It is probably one of the best things that’s happened to India. Anyways so we got to Connaught place and walked to the metro station (which is underground) (full on clean and beautiful). The temperature outside was being very kind to human race and blessed us with a mere 39 degrees (only). Entering the metro station was a brilliant rescue plan and must say it worked quite. The metro picked us up and dropped us at chandini chowk. Trust me when I say this but my heart was thumping, so loudly that I could hear it. I was in a very uncomfortable position suddenly because I dint want the place to dampen my expectations. I wanted it to be exactly the way it was described, the way it was hyped, or simply the way it is supposed to be. And then I entered CHANDINI CHOWK. Old Delhi, the much loved deewano ka shehar, the city of happiness, yet the city of poverty, yes I had finally stepped on Dilli 6.

The moment i entered the place, i saw almost a million people. A sea of people on my left, a million on my right a few million more in front of me and many more pushing me from behind. I always considered myself to be strong to handle mob mentality, but my logic defied me that time. I was genuinely scared of either being pushed or robbed or killed or a target of a crazy stampede. None of these things happened and that surprised me to a great extent. I dint understand why people were pushing me and the rest from all sides. People touching each other, a thousand different aromas (mostly of different sweat), people in hurry, people in extreme hurry, it all looked as though everyone’s running to the near by temple where they’ve announced to give away unlimited Prasad. So much happened even before I left the station, so I was anticipating more drama when I entered the area. I did. Was it drama or what?

I’m not all exaggerating when I say this but in one spectrum I think I saw 5000 people. 100 restaurants, 2000 colours, 1000000000 chat stalls. I prayed to god, to give me strength, strength to stand still for a second. But knowing the kind of people there, standing was something even an ant wouldn’t think about doing. My friend kept walking. Without once being perturbed, she just walked. Hordes of men trying to touch her, trying to push, she just kept walking, and I tried to follow her like the dog in the hutch ad, just that here I was a terrified dog. She suddenly decided that you get awesome dahi bhaati, and she suddenly turned and suddenly started walking again. I followed her. For reasons unknown to me and known to the people I’m talking about, almost everyone was staring at me. Staring at me continuously. My pant kept coming down (I think I lost weight from the station to tat place where I was standing), I was sweating from all angles of my body and my nose kept diverting everywhere (along with my eyes, ears and head).

We reached the place for dahi bhalla (the board read “world famous dahi bhalla in India”). Amusing. No, it was bloody scary. Men, women, and the rest were trying to grab their plate. If given a knife there would have been bloodshed. An epidemic (all for dahi bhalla) (what is it I wondered). My friend somehow (after pushing a few women) grabbed a plate and I was all glued to the way it was presented. I had a bite. My first chandini chowk food bite. It was not only magnificent; it was actually out of the world (screaming out loud). At that precise moment I had at least 10 adjectives in mind, and when I’m writing this right now, though speechless, I can actually smell the dahi bhalla. It was truly aromatic, beautiful looking and more than anything else, tasty. Delicious and way too delicious. The dahi looked like dahi but tasted like milk and had the texture of mayonnaise. The bhalla was something I don’t want to describe now and scramble my head (it was just 10 bucks). And that’s when I knew I reached chandini chowk truly.

Everyone in Delhi talks highly about the food. The ghar ka khana, the street food and the mall food. Food in Delhi consists of many things, mainly paranthas, paranthas and paranthas. Hundred varieties of paranthas mixed and mashed and yet finally mastered to the core. I’m sure they’ll introduce hundred more in the next month. And everyone in Delhi who loves parantha swears by “parantha walli galli” paranthas. The streets name itself whirls up various expectations. And does it live up to the expectation, no it doesn’t, it infact surpasses it beyond any wordily description actually don’t think I want to call them parantha. I want to call it a small packet of ghee. Actually a big packet. It was dripping ghee and I was dripping BP. I had all the doubts if that ghee was good, but there are two things u shouldn’t do in chandini chowk – think and the second thing is think. Don’t ever dare to doubt any food available there. You might not get beaten up by anyone, but the food that you chose to miss, will haunt u after that. Forever. So I stopped doubting and just ate the parantha. It was better than the dahi bhalla; hence I’m not going to waste time and explain (in my most melodramatic way) how tasty it was. All I will say is that it was like home food. Like the way your mom would cook. Like the way your favourite aunt would cook for u once she comes to know your coming back from America (with gifts ofcoz).

The heat was not the only thing that was twirling my head up. It was the galli. It was as big as my waist size, and I found it extremely difficult to move around the place. In this galli were, at least 20 stalls selling 100 types of paranthas. They were all hidden from the real world. A world were buggers and pizzas have successfully invaded. A world where there is no differentiation in people. They are all the same. They were all hungry and wanted to eat yummy food. Those paranthas invite you from a far off place and when you get there no religion or caste or creed can stop you from eating there. It was a dirty place, filled with garbage, but no one seemed to bother, and in that no one was me also, sitting in a small 20 inch table eating paranthas which Jawaharlal Nehru once relished. I felt satisfied, felt my hunger evaporated slowly. An awesome feeling, something that I haven’t felt in months post my entry in Delhi.

My heart suddenly demanded some meat. Actually stomach, but nevermind. I heard about the famous meat dishes savoured in chandini chowk and for hell I would have missed the opportunity. I insisted that we head to a non veg restaurant to eat some of the finest kebabs and curries. The ones that were eaten by probably from an Akbar to a Manmohan to a Sheila to a roadside Romeo. And then, my friend suggested “KARIMS”. The place sounded like somewhere, where goats aren’t spared and chickens are killed for the stomach. I agreed in a second, and within the next we’re in a rickshaw heading to tat place. Apparently it was near the jama masjid. I had once seen the picture of jama masjid in my school history text book, and I thought to myself “god, that must be a dirty place”. Oh yes it is.

If there was a word that could replace dirty from the dictionary it would be jama masjid. Its is not only dirty, it is densely populated. Like there are atleast 8 ppl standing right next to u at a radius of 1 cm. The place is Muslim dominated place (like duh!) and every brick there has history written on it. it is very close to the red fort and myth has it that Akbar hired a 1000 cooks every month from this place to cook a meal for him every day, and mysteriously they were shifted to some other place month after month, cos he never wanted anyone to eat the same food that he ate. I honestly think he sucked at that job, because I ate the food. We’ll come to that a little later. First let’s tackle the traffic. Akbar left, and what remains is our very own, maruthi 800. Almost 4 every metre (I know it’s not possible but please excuse my exaggeration). It was like visual diarrhoea. I went crazy. I suddenly felt people were conspiring to kill me. Everyone walks with an unusual attitude. They all probably still live with the misconception that they are the cooks Akbar screwed or something. And the aunties in burkha. Oh my god, I have never seen so many burkhas at the same time. I felt dizzzzzzzzzy. And then god sent karims to my rescue. The restaurant is tucked away in a by galli of a galli which is now a big galli. It is silently treasured inside the galli right opposite to jama masjid. The road leading to this restaurant is nothing less than a butcher’s ideal dream. Goat heads, brain, intestines, stomach bags and legs. The sight, though appalling, is visually breathtaking. More than anything I saw the jama masjid. And yes to my horror (or wonder) it was dirty at its best meaning. The evening prayers had just begun, there was a hustle everywhere and all around the place is Sufi music being played loudly till your ears get used to it. Muslim men and women in their attire riding past all the shops and restaurants never looked so stunning. The jama masjid (though dirty) looked like a well shot colourful and vibrant picture.

I reached karims after much ado about nothing. It was right there somewhere and we kept searching for it. We eventually reached and the colourful board welcomed us. It was home coming of sorts for me (I feel this way every time I enter a non veg restaurant). The place had three sections. One for non veg, the other for non veg and the last one for non veg. All around the restaurant were other competing restaurants, slightly sober and lull. We entered the place and to my wildest of surprises I saw many phirangies. They were in awe of the place as much as I was, and that was the only similarity. Though I walked into the restaurant as if I owned it. I wanted them to see, the pride in my eyes that this is my land they are on. I sat on a table and ordered for the world famous karims sheek kebab. I also ordered for the mutton bharra kebab and a plate of chicken biriyani. When the food arrived, time stopped. The clocks hung out and the waves in the ocean stopped, a nuclear missile exploded in my head and I suddenly realised my tongue gave way to Akbar’s secret. Right from the meat to the salt to the masala, hit my senses harder than any of my exam results. I was numbed for some time. When I tasted it, my tongue begged me to stop this injustice. A hundred explosions were taking place all around me, I felt, yet I ate. In peace and every piece. It was my moment of truth and no god dammit world trade centre’s collision could have stopped me. The kebab melted its way into my bone and the biriyani’s flavour reminded me of how amazing the mughals life was, their appetite was. Clove never tasted so earthy and mutton never seemed so right. I was praying that the time could stop for a few more years till I cherish the taste in its complete form. By the time I finished eating, the chair seemed like a better place to halt. That’s because I was full (not content but full). I knew the time had come for me to leave the place. I did though with a volume of regret and a bag full of hope to come back. I also acted a little foreigner types by taking snaps with the cook. Must say I felt proud, that I stood next to someone who made me happy even if it was for an hour. I left the place, but not its wonderful aroma. It still lingers at the tip of my agonised tongue. I don’t see why it shouldn’t.

I walked back all the way till the rickshaw stand to catch an auto to Connaught place (skipping the return metro journey) to head back home. But god and his vicious plans have always amazed me. We were stuck in traffic (for the 400^th time) for almost an hour. Honestly now, it was unbearable. Vehicles were trying to pierce through somehow, making the rickshaws journey gruesome. But the show must go on they say, and the rickshaw did too. It dropped us to Connaught place. I realized I left chandini chowk. The jama masjid and the contrast of tastes behind. How that made me want to cry, but it also consoled me to come back. When I reached home, I thought to myself “why the hell was I reading books about chandini chowk and trying to damage its real identity, its real version”. Why on earth was I trying to unmask it, through the means of mere paper help, when I could have unravelled its pomp and glory with the world’s best camera – eyes. Too many things ran into my rather small head, but they all had common inferences. That “uv never seen Delhi, until uv seen chandini chowk. True “yeh shehar nahi, mehafil hai, yeh shehar nahi mehfil hain”. Cheers.

black ticket

It’s Saturday, 12 pm, im still in the bathroom, getting ready endlessly. My mom’s screaming “bloody how much time will u take, u total waste on earth”. I promptly ignore the last few words and reply to how much time and I scream back two minutes. After two minutes I hear a bang on my door “ur coming out or shud I call the fire station”. I come out, and im all ready to leave. My mom’s fuming, and she knows she can kill somebody to vent it out. I make funny faces and try to make her smile, she says “bloody u know very well we wont get tickets if we don’t go early, u know tat right”. “The show is at 2.30pm and we’re still here, when its 12. I apologize and we’re off. To galaxy theatre.

15 years after. It’s Saturday. Its 2.00 pm. IV just woken up after a night full of unending whisky shots and great music. I suddenly realize im running late for the show. I completely forgot, my friend asked me to buy tickets for the movie. Here I was on my bed, still wondering wat to do. In the next 5 minutes I get ready (no really) and head out, take an auto to inox. Reach there in 10 minutes and I see my friend waiting for me outside. I tell him I haven’t bought tickets, a few abuses about me and my drapes of fat layer follow and we rush to buy tickets. We get to the counter and behold! The tickets are still being sold and there we are just in time for the last two blessed tickets (not corner ones thankfully). The time is 2.25pm.

Yu might wonder, what the hell am I trying to infer. Well, I think it’s kinda clear. Its abt the way movie watching has turned out to be. We might never realize, or even if we do, we might never give it a serious thought, but you know wat, its freaky. A few years ago, we waited outside galaxy, or naga or rex or any other theatre two hours or sometimes 3 hrs before a movie show for tickets. The queue invariably consisted of 1)loafers 2)totally vella ppl 3)horny couples 4)frustrated aunties with screaming and nose leaking kids 5) and of coz us (if ur my age right now). It was a total picnic of sorts. Our moms packing stuff for us to eat in the theatre, getting ready, and I mean READY, planning the entire day ahead, and of coz the world famous black ticket sellers trying to sell the ticket come what may. The entire plan seemed like a plan and hence watching a movie was like a treat, u literally enjoyed even if it was a stupid family flick called hum aapke hain kaun. The entire family (of 4 or 5) watched it together and the tickets were jus 30 bucks or sometimes 50. Yummy popcorns or oily frayams or ancient veg puffs or samosa filled with cute little bugs. Oh! They just made you wait for a movie to release. And the best part is you first watch it with your parents and then if some aunt of yours hasn’t watched it then she will insist on you coming again and if you have cousins coming from even as close as Chennai, they will simply thread you to the theatre. So it was just not watching the movie once, but it wud be twice, thrice or sometime more than that. And you never felt bad or bored watching it so many times. But now, it has all changed, I honestly don’t know if it’s for the good or for the bad. It’s very subjective. I mean, someone who never went through the above experience will not agree I know, but also tat the person probably dint have a great childhood, or he lived in “ the then just being built jp nagar”, or he had irritating cousins who never asked him out for a movie or his parents preferred sugam sangeet. But u know wat, it has changed. The entire experience has changed. The whole atmosphere has changed. Imagine when ur watching the movie u don see ppl spitting, or u don see couples getting crazily cozy or u don’t see young dads walking their ever crying babies up and down. Those things vanished long back; those special things went away with time. Now its all abt last minute. Its all abt convenience. I don’t have to worry about getting tickets cos I can get it online. I don have to stand in queues with hundred others and fight for it with a few punches, I don’t have to worry abt the food, cos as soon as I walk out of the cinema I have 30 restaurants staring at me with all sorts of fancy logos and offers. I simply don’t have to get dressed, because watching a movie now, is just another thing. Back then it was what the entire family waited for.
Im not completely ridiculing the multiplex phenomena. Im only saying that the things IV mentioned above, even though extremely silly were loads of fun. Now its all so prim and proper that there’s no struggle at all. Steven Spielberg once said, “Watching a movie is not about watching, it’s about experiencing it”. Ofcoz the multiplexes now have the state of the art infrastructure and sound and wat not, but they haven’t been able to provide the atmosphere. They can never make u get up and dance at an incredibly insane hindi song, because ur scared who’s watching, cos almost everyone can see everyone. Its an amazing development some would point out and debate it out with me, by giving great examples of saving and luxury and quality and etc, but I will end by sayin , that this development has made the experience of watching a movie very common. Watching a movie is an occasion, and it should always remain that way. How can any Indian enjoy any movie without at least one fight in the hall and one on the screen.

morali-tea

Cellphones surely get u thinking about really weird and out of the blue stuff all of a sudden when u least need to. For example, i get this seriously outdated forward about something that goes like "sharing is caring". Well i think the last time i heard that was in my 6th grade during a very boring moral science class where u actually dunno who's teaching u wat, except that it was our favourite class of the week. My moral science teacher (honestly she was super ugly, and i think she dint know too much about morals herself, cos she spat on the road most of the times) usually started the class with "children, sharing is caring", and i instantly knew that the class was nearing its tragic end. I was too young perhaps to understand what it really meant, and how difficult it actually is to share (not that caring is easy) (like for example we dint care for tat crazy moral science teacher). Anyways so i started thinking about this thought very seriously and suddenly i remembered something, an incident, a very special one, a simple but really thought provoking one.
three years ago, i worked for this company called 24/7. It was a call centre, a very famous one. it somehow made its mark in the local news channels regularly. Like once the headlines read "hundreds of used condoms found in the garbage area of 24/7". I hope u got the point. So anyways, my shift started at 4.30pm and got over usually at 2am. it was a UK shift so i kinda escaped the graveyard timings. The pick up van usually picked us up at 2.15am after work. One fine day, after my shift, which got over at 3am, i was all ready to get my cab, and reach home asap. It was bloody cold, and i had nothing warm to wear and to make it worse my cab reaches the place a little late. So, the cab picked me up, along with a few others who worked late that day. the weather got to me so badly that it became unbearable suddenly. it was just 5 of us in that big cab, most of whom i dint know, and they dint carry anything warm as well. So i decided to ask the cab driver to stop at a tea stall, close to my house. The idea of hot tea before getting home was a little motivating to live those few seconds of seriously cold weather. When we reached the tea stall, i got down to grab a cup asap (i actually ran towards the tea stall as if i was being attacked by militants). when i reached there i got myself a cup of hot tea, which i dunno y, but looked deliciously delicious. It was time to pay, and when i got my wallet out, i realised i hardly had any money(i shud have visited the atm in the evening i thought). I had just three rupees in my wallet. I slowly looked towards the tea stall owner with a very sad puppy look, hinting that my wallet turned out to be quite a gulshan grover at the wrongest of times. watching my mishap from a distance was my collegue, who immediately jumped to my help. he gave the rest to the tea stall owner and i was finally going to have my tea, when suddenly an irritating begger decided to beg the shit out of me. he asked me to give him some tea cos he was feelin really cold. I was jus not in the mood, so i shooed him away, and he kept comin for atleast another 2 mins, which made me even more angry. He finally gave way, and i finally was going to taste gods gift "tea". i took a sip and suddenly felt like a stove. it was a brillaint feeling. and i dint want anything to spoil it. the place i stood was very close to the crowd, so i moved away towards a corner. When i reached there, i saw a small bonfire. I was super excited. Hot tea, bonfire,corner and just about no one at 3.30 in the moring, it was a perfect scene. i Suddenly realised i was not alone. There were two street urchins. A girl and a boy. The girl looked older and was tucked comfortably in a thick blanket, whereas the boy was wearing a shirt made out of the thinnest material in the world. He was shivering and making a weird noise, suggesting that it was shit cold. i continued drinking tea and dint bother too much. What happened next, is something that happens only in really senti bollywood films. The boy started shivering painfully and started crying. He was a 7yr old boy i think, and i strongly feel thats wat most 7yr old boys would do when in pain. both of them clearly looked like they were completely broke (like me) and had no other resourses to make themselves warm. The girl gave him her blanket, but his shiver was way to strong for the blankets material. She looked completely clueless and wandered here and there somehow to get some tea for him, while i continued to sip tea (which was not too hot by now). She finally gave up and jus stood next to him, and told him control it for some more time. the boy started crying and at this point i felt like a looser, a complete one, cos i couldnt do anything. Just then the begger who begged me for tea, ran upto both the kids and offered the boy hot tea (he somehow managed to beg for tea at the stall for himself). the boy felt much better and stopped crying. The girl, boy and the begger sat down at the bonfire and rubbed their hands and feet to feel better. The girl even started singing a song for the boy and he finally slept. the girl sat there , completely relieved. The begger sat there, and was beginning to shiver. He gave away the tea he kept for himself, without even thinkin twice, knowing hat he might not get somethin warm for a long time to come, While i stood there watchin the entire episode helplessly. I felt small, petty in front of them. Felt like i dint deserve to have that tea at all, felt like i deserved to die in the cold weather. it hit me that though they had nothing they share, and we almost always never care, nor for them or for ppl lke ourselves.
Sure it is a very cliche dialogue "sharing is caring", but seriously , do we ever follow it. If we dont, then i definitly dint miss too much of the moral science class in the 7th grade, if we do, then im glad that we were tortured in those classes. Hail Mrs Anandi (my moral science teacher).

fire, earth, water, air and piss

A six yr old boy asked me last week why everyone is so angry these days. i had the most clueless look on my face, since i clearly dint know what to say. Really, why is everyone so angry these days? Why is everyone cribbing and whinning about everything? Why are we so pissed off about even something as petty as the fan not running as fast as it used to? Just about everyone is angry these days. My mom's angry that she's cooking the entire day, my dad is whinning constantly about the current affairs, my brother is frustrated with his work, i am so pissed about everyone being pissed, my maid is reaching the heights of being angry with her "survive evryday" life, and she shows it on aall the vessels and clothes, my neighbour is pissed with us, we are pissed with him, my best friend is pissed about her failed studies abroad, my other friends are pissed about their other friends, my aunts are pissed with my uncles, my uncles are pissed with all the aunties, my students are pissed with results, other students are pissed with someone elses results, the auto driver is pissed with us for not giving enough money, for paying heavily on the fuel, we are pissed with him for taking us literally for a ride, the bus conductors are pissed with us for not having exact change, we are pissed with him cos he always never does give the ticket, the buses are pissed with the driveers, the drivers are pissed with roads, the roads are pissed with the authorities, the authorities are pissed with their highers whackos, the higher whackos blame it on the government, the government blames it on people, and people are now beginning to get pissed with God and God obviously has no option but to get pissed at himself. Why exactly are we so involved in getting pissed, How come we never do something about what we are pissed with or about. Why do we with so much passion crib and whine about everything around us, everyone around us. If u actually see, there's so much much to look forward in everything we do. Things have always been this way, things that are getting screwed were always meant to, thing that went wrong, went away, things that dint happen, dint... so be it... just go on, and stop cribbing. Life has always been like this and its only wise to enojy all the screw ups instead of making them worse by jus complaing and being angry about them. be happy, and leave the rest to time. Because time always has time for shit.