Burping in the Rain

Fire Extinguished

2012-01-29T05:58:00.000-08:00

“You saw Agneepath?” “No!” “Full of fighting, man.” That was the 90s. That was when the age was still a single digit. That was me being told why I need to watch this one movie without wasting a moment. I wasted a few before I actually did. “Fighting”? I loved.

Over the years, I saw it again and a few times more. Over the years, I also picked up a DVD. (Over the years, I also saw Scarface.) Over the years, I got my thrills hearing, “Vijay Dinanath Chauhan….poora naam”.

Years later there arrives another movie, incidentally also called Agneepath, allegedly a tribute. I am older now. Try “atthais saal, chhah mahina, aath din…ye unneesva ghanta chal raha hai…maloom (28 years 6 months 9 days.…19th hour this…dig)?”

This time around, I merrily hop to the movies. I have been told it is a must watch. I have been told it is way beyond the original. I have been told it is the lead actor’s finest performance. I have not been told my heroes are going to die a terrible death.

To cut a long story short (and I wish Karan Johar did that too), this was not what I ordered. Agneepath (2012 film) as Wikipedia loves to say -- fail, fail, fail almost everywhere.

Now where do I begin? How about the time I dropped my BlackBerry holster the minute I sat (For all you Agneepath – 2012 film lovers who will ask, ‘Why did you not walk out if you hated it from the very beginning?’)? It is an expensive holster and I had to wait till the very end for the lights to be turned on. So, thank you very much.

What is happening, boss? I know you wouldn’t want me to compare it with the original because you apparently have tried reinventing the movie altogether. I won’t. And even then, what is happening, boss?

I have to give it to the team for actually not copy pasting the original. Good move! Being a part of a heavy metal band in India, I know the flak we receive when we cover a classic song. Why did we not play an original composition? Why did we not reinvent the song if we were so keen on covering it? Same logic. So good show there.

The original was not without its flaws. I would not be in blind awe of it. But the grand manner the story was told; how could you miss that bloody point? My basic trouble with your version? Your characters and the way they were essayed.

I was bloody excited to see the way Hrithik Roshan interprets Vijay Dinanath Chauhan. I was bloody sad eventually. Of course, he should not have based it on Amitabh Bachchan. He didn’t. Some may say, successfully so, I see it as an absolute disappointment. This is not about Bachchan, this is about Chauhan!

You see, the grand daddy of all fictitious Indian angry men convinced me that he was a man on a mission. He was wronged and he was out to kick your damned ass. You know what? His character had style because he was Chauhan in the story and not Amitabh Bachchan. No you cannot pick an eye candy and try to tell me that this guy has learnt his lessons the hard way and watch out, revenge will be sweet. I would like to think there is a certain intensity that comes with this particular protagonist and a mere trembling of the fingers, a loud scream and slow motion fail to bring it out.

Years ago, I saw a movie, I liked. It was called Mission Kashmir. Incidentally, it featured the same actors at war with each other. I loved Sanjay Dutt. I could not stand Roshan. I mean, here is a guy who has very valid reasons for his anger. He wants to burn the world down, shoot the person responsible for his woes at sight but what does he do? Oh! He screams, he screams at the drop of a hat. That was Altaaf. Years later, it is the same Altaaf who becomes Vijay Chauhan.

Do you really want me to believe Roshan looked even for a bit as a leader of men, a mobster with a plan? Not for a moment did I even feel for the character. Hell! I even screamed out loud after he is stabbed multiple times, “Why doesn’t this man fucking die”! I didn’t feel the same when Bachchan was shot several times and came out alive and kicking.

Not for a moment does the 2012 Vijay Chauhan evoke any sort of sympathy. And to remember 1990 when Chauhan comes home to dine with his family or heads to Commissioner Gaitonde’s den to warn him before his family or when he goes out dining with his girlfriend at an upscale restaurant. Each time he is reminded, he is a ‘goonda’, you feel sorry for him. When this edition tries to replicate, you just yawn.

Kancha minus Cheena (minus hair)? What. The. Fuck. If you want a Voldemort, remake Harry Potter. Since when did being evil have to do with looking straight out of a graphic novel? Once again, remember the hairy Kancha? Now that was one suave evil sonofabitch! He didn’t have to go out of his way to make his intentions apparent. Once more, the character, mind you; this is not Danny Denzongpa versus Sanjay Dutt. What is with his cheesy pseudo dialogues right out of the Gita? Once more, was Dutt’s character convincing? Not to me by a mile.

Not for once I am biased about the two actors. I’ve seen enough movies to know better than point fingers at their talent and that is why my problem is with the ones responsible for such shoddy storytelling.

Fine, the unwanted characters were done away with. Thank God there is no one to compete with the corniness of Neelam or Madhavi or Avatar Gill, Sharat Saxena and the other, I forget. But what about the ones those were not? Some justice to them? No? Ok!

Commissioner Gaitonde is reduced to a sorry cop who has nothing to do, nothing at all in the movie. In fond memory of Vikram Gokhale. Why the need for Azhar Lala (Deven Bhojani)? Where does the power of Suhasini Chauhan disappear with Zarina Wahab?

Why in the name of God does everybody have to break into a song and dance at every possible excuse? Oh, that is Bollywood, is it?

A brother’s not at all happy with the arrangement that his sister is not aware of his existence and there you are, the whole slum needs to start dancing to express solidarity in grief and what is worse, the brother soon starts dancing too.

Supposedly intense is the scene when Commissioner Gaitonde approaches Chauhan with words of wisdom as the latter is on his way to end Kaancha (and my misery). What is with what that follows? Chauhan’s girlfriend is sending her man to the front? Oh! My! Fucking! God! And then Chauhan decides to put his “war” at hold….and get married.

The story fails to remain consistent. The moment you think Chauhan will be up to something his girlfriend turns up to spoil the party, his sister decides to show up demanding a picnic and what not?

“Time please, Sir. I have suddenly decided to get married and another song (terrible like the rest) has to fit in” or “Kancha! Chill for a bit. The sister is here and I need to hit the beach with balloons…and guess what…sing another song.”

Just a few hours it has been since I’ve returned from the movie hall and I can’t remember one single dialogue from the 2012 edition. Over two decades and I still remember “Hawa tej chalta hai Dinkar Rao, topi sambhalo, udd jaayega”, “Bandook bhi dikhata hai aur peechhe bhi hatta hai” and some more. Do we miss the Salim-Javeds and the Kader Khans of the industry? Yes, we do.

It doesn’t have to be forever cloudy in Mandva to tell me that it is one fucked up place ruled by the Devil Himself. Karan Johar and Karan Malhotra need not be reminded time and again that it is a movie and not DC Comics.

Goddammit, it is a revenge saga. That 7 year old wanted some “fighting”. This 28 year old wanted an intense storyline or at least something that “looked” like it. Not a bloody glossy family drama.

Not all of it was hopeless though. While Krishnan Aiyar YUM YAY was missed, Rauf Lala more than compensated. What a performance, Mr. Rishi Kapoor! Who would’ve thought? Now that is fucking evil. No dumb make-up, no over the top screen presence but you want to tear into the screen and rip Lala’s head off. I think the last time I felt something like that was watching Denzel Washington play Alonzo Harris in Training Day. That motherfucker deserved to die (Both Lala and Harris).

Priyanka Chopra as Kali, if forgiven certain corny shades is definitely preferred over Madhavi’s Mary. A little more development of the Kali character sure wouldn’t have hurt.

But that is me! I regret watching this piece of crap and I can’t say that enough. I regret my slippery BlackBerry holster worse though.

And I didn’t mention Chikni Chameli because I didn’t care enough to. Katrina Kaif does make a better option than Archana Puran Singh who is busy laughing somewhere. Singh judges comedy shows, I hear. Nice!

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All roads fiery as Biprorshee

Rode the Lightning: Confessions of a Fanboi

2011-11-06T01:14:00.000-07:00

(Picture Courtesy: Metallica.com http://www.metallica.com/photo-gallery/oct-30-2011-bangalore-gallery.asp)

Something happened last Sunday. Something that was made of dreams. Something I am going to hold on to for dear life. Some kind of monster, we call "METALLICA!"

Here's my experience:

Also appears on indianrockmp3.com (http://indianrockmp3.com/2011/11/05/gig-review-metallica-in-india/)

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Rode the Lightning: Confessions of a Fanboi

Chances are you went to school and then to college. Chances are you were a rebel without a cause. Chances are you sought refuge in music. Chances are you were (and I really, really hope still are) into heavy metal. Chances are you spoke of (heard of) this band called ‘Metallica’. Chances are you said at least once in your lifetime, “I grew up with Metallica”. Chances…

Well, that is my life, an average ordinary Joe, just like you, him or anybody else. Pushing 30, never too old to once push that tape into the player, then slip that CD into the slot and now, as much as a certain Lars Ulrich might hate, double click on a Metallica mp3 on my computer.

Yes, my journey into the much hated by parents and the straight A peer group world of heavy metal (Well, you stereotype. So fuck you. So shall I!) began the usual way. With a band called ‘Metallica’, with an album famously known as ‘The Black Album’, with a song called…errr…ummm…ok… ‘Nothing Else Matters’.

All the I-Rocks (strictly Rang Bhavan, thank you very much) and the GIRs of the world, all the Sceptres and Brahmas, all the cover heavy days of the late 90s and the early 2000s; I knew that was the closest I could hear a ‘Master of Puppets’ or a ‘The Memory Remains’ live. So tap that 18-year old on his shoulder and tell him, “You will see the actual band who wrote these songs playing these songs in flesh and blood in your own country one day” and I would politely smile back and maybe sigh.

Even 2007 and then 2008 and then 2009, after being in the front row watching my absolute Gods, Iron Maiden (yes, I still refuse to grant the divine status to the band in question), I remember excitedly chatting up with a Maidenhead brother saying, “WHAT IF we see Metallica one day?”

What if then! Fuck yes, now!

So one evening in June 2011, I call up my kid sister and tell her, “Are you too busy this October 30? If not, your birthday gift is a Metallica concert ticket in Bangalore.” The biggest band in heavy metal history was coming to my country for the first time. Laugh, if you may but it was surreal then, it was surreal on Oct 30 and it still remains dreamlike a week later. The biggest band in heavy metal history played in my country for the first time.

October 30, 2011. Palace Grounds, Bangalore, India. I SAW METALLICA LIVE! There, I said it!

This is not a gig review. You don’t review a Metallica gig. You recall the experience.

Land up at Bangalore airport after an hour and a half long flight on October 28 and you are greeted with a text message, “Dude, Delhi gig postponed.” (And you know what happened later). Fantastic! Inevitable doubt – Will Bangalore happen now? We know better now.

Let’s move beyond the beautiful Bangalore weather, cheating auto rickshaw drivers, insane dosas, excessive beerage, magnificent Kryptos-Bevar Sea-Dying Embrace gig, shall we? It is Sunday morning. The Delhi fiasco has been discussed to death, breakfast has been excitedly had, Metallica t-shirts in your backpack have been carefully avoided, passes have been double checked, “Dude, Bangalore is happening?, Yes, Bangalore is happening” has been done. It is a fine day to be alive.

With family and friends, I arrived fashionably late at Palace Grounds. To avoid the initial eager crowd, we thought. And with the sea of people we were greeted by, we knew we weren’t wise enough. Bangalore was no longer a city of strangers. You recognised faces, you didn’t recognise them; it was immaterial. You flashed the Devil’s Horn to everybody. You screamed if you could, “METALLICAAAAA!!!!” as you waited for the gates to open.

I gave the opening bands a miss. I hope Inner Sanctum and Guillotine won’t hold that against me. I couldn’t give Biffy Clyro a miss. I hope I will hold that against me.

Braving the rain, bullying the security and walking in proud with my backpack (DNA! DNA! DNA! *shakes head*), I am there among each one of you lucky 29,000 people waiting.

A long wait between 7pm – 8pm and then finally on a huge screen, I see Tuco running through the graveyard searching for gold as I hear ‘The Ecstasy of Gold’. This is it! I am being born again. My eyes are probably even welled up.

And then bang! The opening riff of ‘Creeping Death’. Yes, now there is a tear that rolls down. I AM WATCHING METALLICA LIVE! The head is going to snap off and fall. The fist up in the air, refuses to come down. “Die, by my hand….”

It has just begun. Creeping Death ends and immediately Lars thunders and so does the sky. ‘For Whom the Bell Tolls’ now. Then ‘Fuel’. Then shoot-me-fucking-dead ‘Ride the Lightning’, ‘Fade to Black’, ‘Cyanide’…. What a setlist! What a fucking awesome setlist (I could live without the Death Magnetic songs though. Maybe ‘The Day That Never Comes’ would have been fabulous)!

People around me going berserk, genuine fans, fake fans, know lyrics, don’t know lyrics, no one cares. Every man for himself here.

I have always enjoyed watching concerts feeling one with the crowd. That moment came with ‘The Memory Remains’. We all sang in unison, we all sang terribly. “Na-na-na-naa na-na-na na-na-na-na-naa…” Marianne Faithfull be damned!

I heard ‘(Welcome Home) Sanitarium’. The one line in the song summed up my existence through a college life I hated – ‘Leave Me Be’. Then ‘Sad But True’, ‘All Nightmare Long’ and the beyond magnificent and classic ‘One’. I think I really, really wanted to die and freeze it all when ‘Master of Puppets’ began. My most favourite, MOST FAVOURITE guitar solo and all your ‘100 Best Guitar Solos’ lists could go to hell. Once more, we all sang with Kirk Hammett and James Hetfield and their guitars. Once more, that insane feeling of brotherhood only and only heavy metal provides!

Climaxed? Not yet. It was back to …And Justice For All when Hetfield broke into ‘Blackened’. Sweet Mother of God, the pyro! Ok chill now….but bring those lighters out. It is ‘Nothing Else Matters’ time. No, nothing fucking else matters!

And just before the first tease, the opening song on The Black Album…. ‘Enter Sandman’. By now, I can’t see anything onstage. Just heads and thousands of them, I see screaming, banging. I have to completely depend on the screen. Aunty in front of me is tired of trying to climb up her husband’s shoulder and me yelling at her to behave herself.

Then those four men onstage leave. They do. And we beg and plead for more. They return. Encore act! Tribute to Diamond Head. ‘Am I Evil?’ Yes I am!

Yes, we had a broad idea of the set list after Abu Dhabi but then came a surprise…. ‘Battery’. I am running short of interjections and exclamatory marks here. I don’t care anymore. Every Metallica song I cared about, well almost every (‘Turn the Page’, ‘Outlaw Torn’, ‘The Four Horsemen’ and ‘My Friend of Misery’ would have improved perfection), I heard live till the madness came to a close with ‘Seek and Destroy’. Sought! Destroyed! Done!

It is almost 10-30. Two-and-a-half-hour of being in heavy metal heaven has been ensured. I am tired. I am beyond happy. The band takes a bow, thanks the crowd. We thank them back. We thank you in all sincerity James Hetfield, Lars Ulrich, Kirk Hammett and Robert Trujillo for this evening. We thank you Cliff Burton, Ron McGovney, Dave Mustaine, Jason Newsted for helping build this monster. This monster lives!

With Ulrich promising to be back soon, we once again believe. Just how we believed Bruce Dickinson when he promised the same in 2007 and the man kept his word.

Argue that Ulrich probably doesn’t pack in the same punch with his drums (showed most on Battery). That Hetfield tries a bit too hard to bring back that raw energy to his voice. Or maybe Hammett’s shredding isn’t what it used to be. (Say nothing about Trujillo because that man is probably the best thing to happen to Metallica ever since Mustaine left, and is pure powerhouse.)

But this was much more than any of that. This was for a larger cause….to experience Metallica. And that by God, we did!

As the evening sunk in and I left, I knew what I witnessed was more than just a concert, it was more than just another day in my life. On October 30, 2011 chances are….lives changed!

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All things Metalllica. Period!

Lights Out!

2011-10-05T07:35:00.000-07:00

blink blink blink.

sunrise sunset sunrise.

one day second third.

new day?

same same same!

hurt defeat boredom.

pain pain pain.

I stare into you.

blank.

I peep into the cavity

that is I.

dark damp cobwebbed.

how are you and I

then different?

how are you not ugly?

how do I stink?

a scent

beautiful, seducing

factory made.

you offer, I deny.

you laugh and say

"fool, this is how I am different."

no, say I.

you are sunrise

sunset I am. am I?

we both have the sun....

...or maybe I have the night.

"no," say you.

"you Also have the night."

maybe that makes me

different.

different but invisible.

invisible to you, to them.

invisible and ignored.

A gift, a clap of thunder

on a sunny day.

maybe they will not

ignore me

for a moment.

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All nights dark and Biprorshee

Delhi Belly Ki Maa Ka Bhosda!

2011-07-04T02:58:00.000-07:00

Yes, Delhi Belly ki Maa ka Bhosda! Oh, offended, are you? Didn't I tickle your funny bone? No? You will not laugh hysterically? Even if I use crude Hindi to suggest that my posterior is being split into two or tell you in all graphic glory how my faeces look like? You would at least chuckle if I let one rip, won't you please?

No? Wait! You are throwing the world's 'ewwwwws' and disgusted looks at me?

I'm aghast. On Saturday though you wouldn't stop laughing at these very things when Abhinav Deo and Aamir Khan told you that it is funny or at least implied it is.

Seriously, what did I miss?

At the very onset, let me say this is not a film review. I am not qualified to do that. And I am very sure, by now you have your own 4.96418733333/5 stars for Delhi Belly.

This is about a question I need to ask. And you are free to question my intellect, sanity, of course perspective and you are free to be judgmental.

Question? Yes! When did cuss words and reference to human waste become funny? No, do not give me that 'situational' bullshit -- "Oh! But in that situation, it was funny." No, it wasn't.

There are millions of videos on YouTube that show off a "swearing baby", "baby saying fuck", "cute baby farting" and gazillion comments that scream, "Awwwwwwwwww...."

How old were Imran Khan, Vir Das (why does that dude even bother?) and Kuna(a)l Roy Kapur in the movie again?

Seriously, are you going to give me the "Oh-the-movie-kept-it-real" crap now? Am I the only person who thinks it is NOT real and is a bit abnormal for swear words being thrown around like that? No, you do not know what a truck driver's vocabulary I have, so don't get there. I have learnt my Hindi in one of the most crude belts of the country and words/phrases such as "bhenchod" and "teri maa ki chut" were as elementary as the school I went to those days.

You think it is normal and "real" for every second word in a sentence to be "chutiya" or "bhenchod"? You do that? I don't think so.

Well ok, let's say you do consider it normal. If it's normal why are you laughing then? Are you laughing with that whole "Hawwww...dekho gaali diya" thingie on your mind? Then you sure sported a fake ID proof when you went to the movies to enjoy Delhi Belly.

And of course, "crappy" jokes never cease to be funny, does it?

Is it just me who smells a rat behind the swear and shit? Is it just me who thinks that the film makers knew that the plot was weak and the movie had to be sold hyping the profanity and a sex scene that was really much ado about nothing. (Seriously, if that is the hoopla you are going to create about your female lead's pussy being licked, I want to see and hear more than just her moan and groan!)

Does nobody see that there was nothing new about the plot? Does nobody think Guy Ritchie and Snatch? Does nobody find it weird that we are not really laughing at jokes and gags anymore but stuff we wouldn't give two fucks about otherwise in real life?

I have groaned enough thinking when would Bollywood stop paying its unwarranted and terrible tributes to Coppola and The Godfather. I think a new God has been found in Guy Ritchie. At least be worth his style when you copy.

I believe Aamir Khan when he said he never saw Memento. Christopher Nolan would too if he saw the disaster that was called Ghajini. So I'll also believe if anybody makes the Ritchie reference and Khan and his team decide to deny the existence of the film maker.

Take a flying fuck, Aamir Khan and Abhinav Deo and next time you or anybody want to feed me with shit....chal bhagg, bhosdi ke!

Almost forgot...gave you cuss words, potty reference, here's titillating eye candy. At least, now laugh!

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All things chutiyapa and Biprorshee

A Man Was Murdered Three Days Ago....

2011-06-14T00:32:00.001-07:00

Guns, murder, crime have always fascinated me. Rather morbid but yes, they have. I have loved reading about special reports on the 'underworld', the dons' life, murder conspiracies and some such. My favourite movies have been flicks like The Usual Suspects, Reservoir Dogs, Scarface, of course, The Godfather and blah.
And inevitably has remained my fascination for crime reporters! Why, in my journey to become a 'journalist', did I not take the turn to the crime beat, beats me. Seriously! The high point in my career as a journalist writing on finance and later, advertising and media? Covering (Ok! Let us be a bit honest here, 'being there') (in the thick of things of) the 2008 Mumbai Terror Attacks (I did file a couple of stories from Ground Zero, ok?).
Looking around there were my seniors in college writing for the broadsheets and the tabloids covering the crime beat. Looking around there were my classmates cancelling Friday night plans because they had to rush to a crime scene. Looking around there were 'journalists' who were wearing out their soles on the dirty streets. Looking around there were these two men -- Hussain Zaidi and J Dey. And only one remains today!
J Dey, and I confess I did not know it was 'Jyotirmoy Dey' for a long time, was shot dead on Saturday afternoon in a busy neighbourhood in Mumbai. Insensitively, I will say, a just death! If I were to know that Dey had succumbed to a kidney failure in some local hospital, somewhere I would think that it wasn't the end he deserved. I mean seriously, you could get all poetic here and probably write a tragic ballad on guns, goons and J Dey's art.
Dey wrote the best movies I read on print!
For example, Sorry Apoorva Lakhia, your pathetic excuse for a film called 'Shootout At Lokhandwala' just told me that Vivek Oberoi is a joker. J Dey gave me the real Dilip Buwa and Maya Dolas with his stories.
But this isn't a tribute to Dey. I am tempted to show my respect for Zaidi too here but in this country of mine, it is the dead man who is the hero. For how long? Days? Maybe months.
No, this isn't about a tribute to a much respected crime reporter. This isn't about condemning the murder. This isn't about being a part of the fraternity and being one in outrage.
This is about questioning, the fundamental job of a journalist as we were told in media schools. While you question the government, the law; I question you! And dare to suggest that maybe your question is wrong. I beg of you to stop the circus. Maybe even tell you that as a journalist, my job might not be to question the administration and find faults every time.
This is about my absolute hatred for segregation. You protest and demand a law to protect journalists? Why? Why not a law to protect the common man? You demand for answers and for the authority to grab the miscreants by their collar within days? Did you ask for similar results when the old lady in your neighbourhood had her throat slit by a couple of rogues who wanted her money? Your patience is of epic nature then.
This is about my absolute hatred for screaming but not voicing out. What do your candlelight vigils translate into? Post the terror attacks, there was one. Post the terror attacks, there were questions once again thrown at the administration. Post the terror attacks, the turnout for the election thereafter was worse than dismal.
Sadly, your questions each time are just rhetorical!
Quit waving the journalism flag when you don't see yourself bringing a change. Quit waving the journalism flag when you don't see yourself being the common man first. It is a murder investigation. It has been only 3 days. It takes time, right? So what if a journalist was killed? Condemn the fact that a man was killed in broad daylight.
Protest the J Dey murder today and go get your beer later tonight. Return to work the next morning and demand answers to your questions, make a noise. Somewhere you want the administration to be ineffective and callous because that would give you another story for the day. Somewhere you want your leaders to fail to fire your "revolution". Somewhere I don't want to be a part of your family anymore.

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All things question, Biprorshee questions things

The Jester

2011-05-20T05:53:00.000-07:00

My head hurts.
Going round and round in circles,
it spins.

I just described an entire nightmare
in two sentences.
To you.
Did you realise?
Did you care?

Stepping out of the circus
of sand,
I am so small against
how I see you to be.
I am tiny
and you intimidate.
I am puny
and you laugh.

Such might.
Such bravado.

I step back.

I bury my head
in the sand.
And shut my eyes.
I dream!

You eat
me.

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All things entertain like Biprorshee

Death, do be proud!

2011-03-28T03:24:00.000-07:00

Death,

I am kinda humbled.

A little jittery

with a faint smile

and a shocked emoticon!

For you came knocking.

You rang the doorbell

and like an impish child,

ran away before I could answer.

You dirty tease!

I know where this is coming from.

I've teased you enough too;

mocked and poked.

And you never listened.

But you did hear.

I know now.

A slight pinch to say

"Preview of upcoming attraction, kiddo"!!!

Charmed! Thanks.

Saved! Thanks.

Still breathing! Almost thanks.

Next time, give me prior notice.

Got some packing to do.

And when you do knock

don't run away.

Wait, and let us flee together!

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All things immortal and Biprorshee

Anaesthesia

2011-03-23T00:34:00.000-07:00

Layers!
One above the other.
Stacking it all up.
Very heavy within!

And it lessens the load.
Trust me, it does.
You forget the pain
that is at the bottom of the pile.
What is on top does not matter,
as yet!

By the time it does,
it too shall have
a heavy load to bear.

My fine remedy.
Guess even pain
can't stand pain.

Only fair then
that I can't bear
myself!

Imaginary foes
help me live.
I talk to them
in my head.
Imaginary foes
help me hurt.

Press.
Harder!
You'll know what I'm talking about.

Squeeze.
Watch it flow.
Paint all crimson.
Eyes, skin, soul, the works.

Lose consciousness.
Fall.
Sleep.
There shall soon be no pain.
Anymore!
And you and I shall sleepwalk.

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All things painful and Biprorshee

Lunch

2011-03-18T02:12:00.000-07:00

Worms wriggle
in my head.
Dance an ugly song
in my head.
Why?
I don't know or
maybe I do.

Maybe I gave them life.

Of course I did.
I wanted them
to be there,
didn't I?
I wanted them to feast
on what they could find,
didn't I?
They found my thoughts.
Eat! Eat! Eat!

What is that music
they dance to?

I can't hear.
I am deaf!
I can't sing.
I am dumb!
I can see
the nightmare.
I am not blind!

What a gift!
Happy happy!

With my hands tied
to a chair.
And my legs bound.
They eat and they
force feed
me.

Feed me my brain.
Adulterated.
Made bitter.
Eat, with love!

Tomorrow?
Yes!
Why?
Is your life over,
fool?...
...Suffer more!

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All things corrupt and Biprorshee

To Love You Less...

2011-03-16T05:57:00.000-07:00

To stand outside and look at you
is not something I can do too well.
It becomes easy to be judgemental
and call you names
but it is not something I can do too well.

I can point out your flaws.
Being on the other side,
I can be spotless.
Not attempting to break the glass
lest it breaks my fairy tale self.
But it is not something I can do too well.

You will seem ugly to me.
Through the transparent mirror
that is not honest;
as it lies, with you as my reflection.
Of course it lies.
I am not ugly!
The mirror shows the dirt in you
that I must see.
But it is not something I can do too well.

I can be at peace.
I can be comfortable.
I can say that it is all your fault.
I can call it your monster
and not mine.
But it is not something I can do too well.

I can scream
and thrash.
And watch a tear fall down your face.
As it does, I can smile.
And free myself of guilt.
But it is not something I can do too well.

I can take my pain and put it away.
Own yours and hurt.
I can love you too
but it is not something I can do too well.

---
All things useless like Biprorshee

Welcome Freddy!

2011-03-07T00:07:00.000-08:00

Since when did I begin to deal with nightmares?
Not my area of expertise, I always thought.
It was yours;
as you told me how you couldn't sleep;
as you told me how you couldn't dare.
When did I begin to show such courage?

It was ok, I think, when I was an insomniac.
I slept so little; I confused scary dreams.
I slept so little; the alarms broke.

Now, I sleep early.
I think of healthy habits.
And I dream of the worst addictions.
I wake screaming
or maybe wanting to scream.
I have no voice to shout.
I could cry but not out loud.
I would still call it
'To wake up screaming'.

And there's no one around.
Drenched in sweat and there's no one around.
Just black. Just dark. Just a buzz.
You know what I am talking about?
Did this happen to you?
Spooked...Screamed...Black?
Spooked...Screamed...Black!

I was better off not sleeping.
I was better off unhealthy.
I am not healthy.
I am scared.
I don't want to
sleep.

---
All fear awake and Biprorshee

A moo-ing and a moo-stache!

2011-03-04T01:08:00.000-08:00

Someone loves someone else a bit too much and puts it down in words that transcends all that is beautiful and/or could be called so. Here's to a love that can't be defined, a friendship that seems to have the life of a Phoenix. Here's to how beautiful life should actually be. Here's to you, here's to me!

P.S.: You are a much much better writer and a human being than I can ever be. Don't ever argue after this.

---

Remember that boring evening at work? You stuck in your office, me in mine? And that sudden coffee plan? Barista at 8. See you there.

Should have known then what a bundle of lateness you are. I finished reading a two whole chapters of my book before you walked through that door, bag in tow, hair swishing. "Sorry Moodles. Got stuck."

"It's ok, I say," smiling. One really can't be mad at you, can one?

We spoke that evening. A lot. Chatter chatter. About what? Nothing of consequence. Work. Colleagues. Gossip about cabbages and kings. And did we wonder whether pigs have wings? We must have.

Coffee. That's how it always starts. Why didn't we do more coffee trips when I was around? Oh yes, it's always been work.

Never mind that now.

Fate made me move to a different city. You were heartbroken at seeing me go. I, at leaving you behind. Should I have packed you in that suitcase like I'd planned? I should have when I'd the chance. See? I'm not always impulsive.

I promised never to lose sight of you. I promised I'd be there. I promised to do all I could, to stop you from hurting. Wishing I could have all of your pain. Friends? We were beyond that years ago. Soon, you became my son. Me, your overprotective mommy. "Sleep. Get some rest. Eat on time. Don't smoke so much," and all that. Did it bother you? I hope not.

Being your mother, a full time job I loved. I wanted to envelope you in my love. Protect you from the big, bad world. A mother fawning over her little baby. Apart from the fact that I didn't give birth to you, all the motherly instincts were there. I felt normal. I felt like a woman. Responsible for her cub, shielding you from the eyes of the world. Fiercely protective. You were just mine.

Maybe I overdid that bit, in hindsight. Somewhere, I lost the plot. You were not my son, I, not your mother. Happy realisation. Too late. You were not mine for keeps. I had no right to be jealous. I had no right to keep you chained.

But all I did was want to see you happy. All I ever wanted was to grow old together. With you. Live in that palatial house by the sea, which you'd sell your kidney to buy for me. That's ok. About the kidneys, I mean. That's what two kidneys are for. And no, no dog named Gaffurbhai would run in the passages of our home. Shh. No arguments. My word is the law. Because mother knows best.

So what happened? We lived together, we loved together. Sometimes each other. Sometimes other people. But we loved. And we laughed. And sobbed. And hugged. And we sang. And we cheered. Life was good. I had you. And you had me, or so I thought.

Why the past tense now? Why the end, when the beginning seems like just yesterday? Where did time lose us? Where did we lose time? Where did we lose ourselves? Where did I lose you?

I don't know you anymore. And much as I'd like you to, you don't know me. We stopped being a team. When? And when did the tears replace the laughter? Over and over? Why didn't I ever notice?

I was busy. Chasing my dreams. Making new acquaintances. In a different part of the world. You were there. Was I there for you? I now doubt. Like I now doubt everything else. Love, friendship, top that list.

You're gone. And there's nothing I can do about it. 'We' died a pernicious, cancerous death. And now all that's left behind? A black hole. Where happiness goes in, never comes back out. Seeped in. Sucked in. We died a gory death.

This is not the death I ordered, God. Wait, I never ordered one. Trust you to mess up, as always, you interfering pile of trouble.

A cup of coffee stares at me now. Half drunk. It has unfinished business. Coffee. That's how it always starts. But it can end in two ways, mind you. One, you drink it all up. Feel happy. Refreshed.

Or, two, you pour away its cold, forgotten remains. Then you wonder. How would you have felt if you hadn't forgotten to consume it?

And the coffee on my table? I forgot to finish it. Left it behind. The warmth is now gone. What remains behind is a sad, watery, sickening taste of caffeine.

I get up. Pour it away. Watch its remains flow down the sink. With the other hand, I wipe a silent tear that forces its way out of my eye.

Goodbye, my son.

I love you.

---

All love bovine and Biprorshee

Yesterday Song

2011-03-01T00:50:00.001-08:00

Sing me a song, will you?
About yesterday.
About yesterday of colours
and laughter.

Sing me a song and remind me
of me.
Of me that was,
and alive.

Tell me all because I don't forget.
I don't want to.
Tell me and sing me sweet
for it is all that will be
cherished and hated.

Tell me all about the joy
when I impregnated life.
When I fathered my first born,
cradled her and then
flung her to her death.
Leave that memory out!

In words, I live.
Only in words hence, I beg
for you to sing to me.

Sing to me again
in pure velvet.
Sing to me again.
Intoxicate!
Stupefy!
Thrill!

Talk to me again.
Violate and trespass.
Talk to me again.
Love!

---
All Biprorshee remembered

The Good Student

2011-02-23T22:36:00.000-08:00

My God, I learn!
Very slowly but I try.
Very slowly but I do.

This change of air;
stranger land, different faces
welcome,
smile,
accept,
don't accept,
ignore,
teach.

Teach resilience.
Teach patience.
Teach pain.
Teach strength.
Teach life.

Stranger land, you'll never be mine.
Stranger land, I can touch you.
Stranger land, I can't hold.
Stranger land, I can't make love to you.
Stranger land, I can admire.
Stranger land, little you speak.
Stranger land, lot you say.

Slap me across the face
and kiss my black lips.
Bitter lessons are made
of these.
Sweet dreams are too.

Home shall come
in due course of time.
I shall be banished
to the warmth of mother.
With a vinegar tongue
I shall talk
of a mistress I have,
of a mistress I don't,
of a mistress I show off!

But I shall learn a bit more.
Some strength
I will fake.
The strength
that later will take shape too.

My God, I learn.
My God, I love
what is not mine,
what will never be,
what still shall seduce,
and vanish like a mirage.

---
All things teach Biprorshee

About A Love Song...

2011-02-21T01:31:00.000-08:00

I sing
a song and not of sixpence.
I sing
a song of joy.
Of a heart brimming with love.
Of love pouring over.
I sing
a love song.

About the rush to reach where you are,
about your sighs, threats and disgust
and about coffee bars and liquor stores.

About tiny fingers, messy hair and car rides,
about brownies, more coffee and English grammar
and about other love songs.

About hurt, tears and hugs,
about separation, rejection and kissed eyes
and about turning around and not looking back.

About you, about me, about us,
about him, and him and them
and about a feeling inexplicable.

I sing a song.
A love song,
a hate song.

I sing
when the hurt
gets unbearable.
I sing
with a failed voice.
I sing, I wail
all to bury the pain with dirt!

---
All feelings musical, all pain Biprorshee

Will Die!

2011-02-14T23:16:00.000-08:00

Why do things rot
slowly?

Seems like God too loves a slow death.
The sadist immortal.
Poking, punishing and laughing.

I, a snake
without fangs without venom.
It is funny!
It is funny when you Almighty
who can't stop beaming being all powerful
won't let me bite.

What's the deal?
You, the snake charmer
don't charm me at all.
And I still am to dance,
dance to your designed cacophony
Laugh when you poke,
pretend to be tickled.

I am to decompose gradually too.
Wasted of everything I own.
It's funny!
It's funny because You say nothing is mine.
You say, you are the Absentee Landlord
claiming rent for this life.

I, a tenant
can't leave this house.
I, the tenant
can only complain
and You shall demand a higher rent,
and the lease shall never end.

Replenish You shall not.
To corrode I live.
This life, a placebo!

---
All things die quicker than Biprorshee

Up here Down there

2011-02-10T21:16:00.000-08:00

A spirit

High

A spirit

Soiled

A spirit

in a dirty glass

A spirit

Broken...Sharp!

A spirit

Gold

A spirit

Black

A spirit

Bitter

A spirit

Heavy

A spirit

Large

A spirit

Shallow

A heart

Charred

A soul

Sentenced

A spirit

Illegitimate

A spirit

Cheap

---

All things high like Biprorshee

Substance....Abuse!

2011-02-06T06:20:00.000-08:00

Little

I learn.

Slowly

I know.

Walking away from joy

is what keeps me alive.

Pinching the skin,

piercing the heart,

hurting you,

punishing me

has brought me home.

You are my strange drug.

You get me high

staying away.

I am not to breathe you.

I am not to keep you.

A roll call.

I am to mark you absent.

Everyday.

Call out your name.

Everyday.

And know you're not there.

And float in the trip

taking thrills in the distance.

Breathing the smell

of a burnt bridge.

The fumes numb me.

Then quickly thrash

forgetting its anesthetic role.

It then has to singe me

from within.

Cook me on a slow flame,

blacken a blackened soul

to make it ugly and inedible.

You are such a strange drug!

You are such a strange addiction!

You are the most heinous pain,

I love!

Don't ever hold my hand

I must know you not.

I must love you much.

My little fat darling...

I must hate you.

Not!

---

All things you; you who kills Biprorshee

Jerk King!

2011-01-10T00:40:00.000-08:00

Yes, do that and do it well.
You're good at it.
Pretty damn good!
Self gratification you must,
self gratification you're left with.

Jump off the cliff!
They won't save you.
Jump off the cliff,
you'd still land on hay.

It is a strange joke
that you'll fall for each time.
It is a dastardly joke
that does not stop being funny
to everyone but you.

Just as well!
You laughed too, remember?
When they slipped and fell?
You pointed and laughed.
They didn't find it funny then
but they need some kicks too.
It is just fair.

When they call you weak
they are true.
When you lie about your might
you are true.
They can choose to believe you or not.

You're not to call the shots.
Nothing is for you to decide.
Wallow in self pity.
Write cheesy poems.
Masturbate.
Pre mature ejaculation
is your pre mature joy.
The rot is your gift.
The garbage food.

Question but not them.
Complain but in silence.

Death shall not embrace.
Pariah to life, you shall remain.

You bastard!

---
All things hate you, Biprorshee

Cheater Cock!

2011-01-01T17:42:00.000-08:00

What tomorrow promised

was far from what it delivered.

What tomorrow promised,

yesterday had a good laugh at.

A few dozen incomplete songs

that couldn't be sung.

The melody never came.

The meter never perfect.

The lyrics bereft of honesty.

The voice always choked.

Some letters never written

or signed with 'With Love'...

The nib always broken.

The words always blank.

The language vile and cryptic.

Address unknown.

Some journeys planned bad

and left abandoned.

Routes almost always wrong.

Directions never understood.

Stars that were far from guiding.

Destination anywhere.

What tomorrow promised,

what tomorrow brought.

Whom tomorrow loved

I could never be!

---

All things far from Biprorshee

Happy?

2010-12-31T00:28:00.000-08:00

Just a line
and a rainbow I am promised.
One by one they appear.
All I've known, all I've loved,
they are seven colours.

They play
hide and seek now.
They laugh
and pounce on me.
A blast
that tickles.
Then a scream, they mistake
for laughter.
An expression they think
ensures good health.
An irony,
a cancer.

The seven still play.
The seven still laugh.
Oblivious.
Ignorant.
Superficial.
Loud.
Chaotic.
Then they hurt!
All I've known, all I've loved?
They hurt
and turn away.

Slowly, they fade.
My colours unite.
All I've known, all I've loved.
My seven turn black.

And then I laugh...
to bring them back...
to beg for mercy...
to long for company...

"Come back, please."

"Remember the line,
remember the line!"

It is a process
for white to turn seven to turn black.
Welcome.
Accept.
Love.
All I've known, all I've loved.
Geometry will facilitate kaleidoscope.

All I've known, all I've loved
will return.
A mirage.
Touch, I shall not;
feel, I shall.
Hope, I shall not;
remember, I shall.

All of seven return.

I, a child
clap in glee.
The seven now dance
in a blissful frenzy.
Seducing.
Inviting.
The orgy starts.
Making love
with a vengeance.
Cursing.
Screaming.

And then the colours explode
again.
All that I've known, all that I've loved
continue to dance.

I embrace this insanity.
I promise to return
to this brothel.
Where, just a line
And a rainbow I buy.

---
All things BRIGHT and Biprorshee

Heart Shaped Box

2010-12-27T00:37:00.000-08:00

How easily you give up
you little, brittle you.
You frail excuse for a heart --
a crybaby, a box full of complaints.

You do not have a mind of your own.
Very strategically so, right?
You probably would have escaped
at the first chance otherwise.
Parasite! Selfish! Bastard!

You have to feed on my joy
and then bleed me and not yourself
when grief arrives.

Why am I to cry your tears?
When you're weak, I suffer.

Parasite! Selfish! Bastard!
With not a care for anyone but yourself,
you have to sob and bawl
when I don't pamper you.
Stupid kid!

Die, won't you?
No, don't!
Knowing you, you will kill me as well!

---
All Biprorshee must be heartless

You're not welcome!

2010-12-17T01:07:00.000-08:00

I never danced to the music that change played. I reminded myself each time I should but I could not. I am not a beach, am I? I am not made of sand, am I? I don't like myself being scattered by a wave each time I gather myself up. I cannot rearrange so soon and so many times.
Change is the only thing constant, it is said. Why can't I protest? Why bother if life is this fickle? It takes a lot of effort, you know to finish your chores and then the horror to find it messed up again.
A cribbing sonofabitch, I have become and it is easy to say I wasn't at fault. Does it make me any less a man if I admit that at the end of the day I am not the master of my destiny?
This is not the life, I ordered. Hell! I didn't even order. I wasn't given the choice.
So whom do I approach for a refund? You who silently watches and smiles? You who cannot give up your mischievous self and have to pull a fast one on me almost every time? You who feigns ignorance and pinches on the sly?
How much more can I pay? I am broke. Broke in every possible sense. You need to throw the molasses away when there is nothing more to squeeze out.
Leave me be. Leave me to stagnate. Leave me to collect dust. Leave me to get used to one minute of this life at least.
Leave!

---
Nothing leaves Biprorshee

Future, tense II

2010-12-12T22:17:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow when you slit your wrists
would you hold it against your (good) fortune teller?
Tomorrow when you want to wipe your hands clean
would you panic at your palm?
Tomorrow when the lies stare at your face
would you care about yesterday's promises?
Tomorrow when you dance to the cacophony
would you remember yourself as the musician?
Tomorrow when you're still hungry
would you hate Eagles just as much?
Tomorrow when tomorrow arrives
would you really hang around?

Tomorrow would you care
and remember to hate the present
just as much?

---
All things so disgustingly Biprorshee

Hell People

2010-12-11T01:24:00.000-08:00

"...And if you wouldn't care I would like to leave
I hate myself and I want to die
I am not like them but I can pretend
I am my own parasite, I don't need a host to live
Wish away, wish me luck, wake me up
I think I am dumb..."

---
All things Cobain and Biprorshee

Future, tense

2010-12-07T00:11:00.001-08:00

Tomorrow I shall live again.
Tomorrow I shall leap for joy.
Tomorrow I shall be strong
and stand for myself.
Tomorrow I shall not go down.
Tomorrow I shall lie
in all sincerity;
tomorrow you shall believe.

Let me for today fail.
Let me for today decide
it shall be the last time.
Let me for today know
I can look forward.
Let me for today say
this too shall pass.
Let me for today trust
a tomorrow.

Times I live in,
times I fade
Tenses I play with;
tensed I stay
I burn myself today
and tomorrow I'll heal.
Tomorrow, I promise!
Tomorrow, I pray!

---
All times of Biprorshee

As you sang...

2010-12-05T23:11:00.000-08:00

I heard the song yesterday. Again. Again after a long, long time. It was lying right where we left it last. No cobwebs though; it is just the daisy we knew it as.

I heard the song. I heard you. I saw you. I saw us. I lived us. I lived me sitting next to you. I lived you running your fingers through my hair as you sang. I was the better singer, I always said. You were the better music, I always knew.

You sang with all your love. You sang with all your innocence. You sang to me. The words assured I must not go looking for you because you were right here with me. You sang it like you meant it. You sang it because you meant it.

The words were true. The promise still strong. I heard the song yesterday, you were right there and I stopped searching. I stopped waiting. The music never died and we were Lazarus once more.

I heard the song yesterday. Again. Again, after a long time. It is right where it always was. It remains. You are there too but you are not.

---
All things sing for Biprorshee

Doctor, doctor please...

2010-11-29T23:48:00.000-08:00

You came to me with your gaping wound;
showed and cried.
Maybe you wanted me to cry along;
maybe you wanted me to act the healer.
Maybe...

Maybe you didn't know I hurt too
and not for you either.
Did that cause you further pain?

This is the season to be cold.
Jump in and join the fun.
Jump! Get it? *smile*

I must embrace your pain.
I would do good to be your misery.
It would do you good to know that. Seriously!

I told you when
I wanted to be Icarus?
My wings sadly were not of wax;
my wings sadly were just that.
My wings made me fly
and it rained just to mock me!

Come, embrace me
and let us freefall.
Let us dive into this sea
as we forget to flap our wings.
A thundering crash and tadaa...

The curtains shall close on us
and the band shall wrap up another day at work!

---
All pain you and Biprorshee

For you, Popey!

2010-11-26T03:52:00.000-08:00

Dearmost Little Angry Dude
Funny I should be writing to you. Funny I should be addressing you as 'dearmost'. Or maybe, not funny at all!
Laddy, you never knew me, I never met you. Yet you hated me with all your might. Yet I so desperately fell in love with you. No, I don't find the word 'dearmost' funny or inappropriate at all. That is what you are to me. Very, very dear.
Your temper was what legends were made of or so I was made to believe. I was told to keep safe distance, which much to my chagrin, I ended up doing. I did not want to, seriously.
The more I heard of you, the more intrigued I was because to me you are more human than any one else. You are because I have heard of "human emotions" and you are beyond all that.
There was this certain thing about you that made me believe that no human can possibly be this alive, this passionate. That is why I love you. I love you because your love seemed brute, selfish and very, very deep. I love you because I tried to love just the way you did.
And then I saw your picture. You were laughing at me, I thought. I laughed too and winked back. I was jealous as you showed off. You handsome dog, you!!!
Your anger was justified and shall be. My nemesis, I called you once. :) You should know, I was joking.
I miss you, young lad. I so do! And believe me if you can; I would have let you kill me.
I love you my little angry dude. You inspired me to love more. You taught me to love fierce.
Dance with the angels.
We will arm wrestle another time.
Thanks for being true.
Me.

---
All things Popey and beautiful

At the concert...

2010-11-25T01:13:00.000-08:00

I play deaf today!
It is nice. It is peace.
No, I'm not listening to you.
I'm not listening to what you scream.
I'm not listening to what you accuse me of.
I play deaf today
and I play innocent.

I play deaf today,
I play it well.
I play so
because I want to play you.
I play so
because I am tired of playing me.

I play deaf today
and I smile more
because it is amusing to watch a silent movie.
Just how hilarious was Charlie Chaplin!!
*smiley*

I play deaf today.
Tomorrow I might play blind!

---
All things what?? Hello??? Biprorshee????

Evening by the window...

2010-11-23T04:20:00.000-08:00

Let the rain be
It is not without time
It is not without reason

No, it is not to fill your heart with joy
It is not for you to jump right into it and smile
It is not for you to grab a cup of tea and sing a song
Neither is it for you to take that hand and hold it with all your love

This one's mine
This one's for me to repent
This one's for me to wash a lot of guilty time
This one's to replenish my eyes that are so wooden
This one's my shelter that I stand under to throw at you a miserable riddle

Let the rain be
This one's mine
...to scream at God and cry while he shall still see me laughing

---
All things cry like Biprorshee

Stained

2010-11-22T03:46:00.000-08:00

I looked at your face today, Baba
and I saw all that would scare me.
I saw that colour
that was just as dirty as mine.
I saw that frown, Baba.
A frown from years of failure and sorrow,
a frown that has appeared way too soon
on me.
I saw a smile but that was Ma's;
three decades she has worked on
to put it on your face to put it on mine.
But Baba, why were you the stronger one
in your union? In your love?
Why were you the stronger one to pass on your grief
to the next generation?
Why were you the stronger one to pass on the dirty colour?
I wanted Ma's white, I wanted Ma's unrepentant smile.
Baba, you didn't fail. I don't complain.
You were just a man.
You are just a man.
I looked at your face today, Baba.
I did not like what I saw.
I looked at your face today, Baba.
I saw me.

---
All things bright and Biprorshee? Really?...

South of Heaven

2010-11-18T03:07:00.000-08:00

Ugly is all it seems. How much more can I abhor the self? How much more can I stay afraid?

What made You think I could live? What made You think I could earn my strength being handicapped? What made You think I could go on a wild goose chase looking for self worth and not be tired? What made You think I would not give up?

I give up, You hear? I give up! I get tired. If I do not get something looking for it repeatedly, I give up. Call me weak. Be disappointed in me. But recognise there are weak beings. There are the ones who lag behind. Recognise and help. Help, no? I need some.

I have no more skin left to sratch and pull out, to look for that rock You chose to hide under all the mush. You should have known better and made me a tortoise. I could have hid inside a shell each time it rained. I could have hid inside a shell each time they kicked. I could have hurt them.

Who advises You on strategy? Fire him, he's an idiot. He doesn't know what to make of his responsibility. You do not have an efficient personnel department.

You are a failure, You hear me? You kick started this series and put me at the centre of it all to be fired at. A dummy target. You should not have breathed life into this dummy.

I did NOT fail. I took it all just as it had been planned. You, oh Almighty should not hide behind my soulless mass of flesh and blood...and life, and shove your impotency on mine. You must not be scared. You are stronger.

"Wish I was too dead to cry
My self affliction fades
Stones to throw at my Creator
Masochists to which I cater ....
...You don't need to bother
I don't need to be
I'll keep slipping farther
But once I hold on
I won't let go till it bleeds..."
(From Stonesour's Bother)

---
All things lifeless and Biprorshee

I Hope You Don't Dance!

2010-11-08T00:09:00.000-08:00

You think you take a step forward but you soon see, you are moving sideways. You shake your head and move a step behind. But you didn't want that in the first place. This is not even moving around in circles. This is a strange candywalk. Strange and extremely despicable.

Is there a change at all? A change you so desperately need but you can't seem to make any progress.

Progress! The word is a punishment, really. You don't want to progress. You hate the status quo. What is it that you want? Do you have any idea? Any idea whatsoever?

What is it that you pine for? You know that, don't you? It lies not hidden yet latent and not very feebly, peeks out. It's like this Jack-in-the-Box. It sits on a strong spring. You personally have decorated it with cobwebs but it self cleans.

You're still dancing? You're still moving sideways? Is this not like walking in a desert? The next sandstorm is going to remove all traces of footprints that would otherwise give a faint hope, an idea of a direction. You want to be Neil Armstrong now. His footsteps shall forever remain!

You don't want to dance. You don't want to move. But the still waters here run very shallow.

No, you don't want this dance. You want to be a child again!

---
All things &$^%#$, fucking Biprorshee

Will do!

2010-11-02T03:47:00.000-07:00

Will you? Won't you?
You will!
Like everyone else you will
Like a freshly sharpened dagger you will
Like a provoked serpent you will

You will and you will laugh
You will and you will justify
You will and you will stare
You will and you will again

I will but help and smile
I will but sure shall weep
I will and be not surprised
how like you, you never will!

---
All things mock Biprorshee

Winter

2010-11-01T08:35:00.001-07:00

Tremble tremble
Shiver shiver
Hands, fingers, mind, heart
Quiver for you are scared
Pine for you are lonely
Repent for you are you

Tremble tremble
Shiver shiver
Tongue for you are tied
Lips for you are charred
Speech for you have failed

Tremble tremble
Shiver shiver
Soul for you are dirty
Flesh for you are rotten
Bones for you are dust

Tremble tremble
Shiver shiver
You for you are damned
You for you are muck
You for you must now

Tremble tremble
Shiver shiver
Tremble goD!

---
Could not be bright could not be Biprorshee

Feels like God!

2010-08-02T01:41:00.000-07:00

Don't scream into my head like that.
Don't...
It is a barbed wire. Makes me feel like Jesus but like a God
that wants to destroy everything.
That hates to forgive because you still know not what you do.
Because lessons you don't learn.
Because illiterate you are.
Because you hate. I hate.
I could be strong but I want the slipknot stronger;
so that it could hold my fat heart and not let it breathe.
I am Jesus. See? I wish to die to wash your sins.
I wish to die to show off a martyr.
I wish to die.
I am Jesus. See? I am corrupt.
I do not like you.
Or anything else.

---
All things mighty and Biprorshee

They don't make 'em like me anymore...Thank God!

2010-08-01T12:27:00.000-07:00

For every lull, there is a storm;
every silver lining, a cloud.
Maybe it is cool to turn a proverb upside down.
Or maybe it is just to accept the other face in the mirror.
I could sit back and scrutinise this gash
Or I could lie down and look inside it.
Is it just a scratch with a few drops of crimson that makes me cringe?
Or is it how I could show you ripping the wound,
a whole pound of flesh, boiling inside?
What makes the lining fall off everytime?
What makes the serene seem so pathetically chaotic?
And chaos has no different meaning here. It is what it is. And it is not welcome.
It is a hundred faces screaming together. It is a hundred nails scratching the blackboard.
It is pain!
Life, that was me smiling at you a day back. And this is me mocking my own self a day later.
And you are calling me names too...
like that ugly kid in the park who hated my toys when I was a child.
Life, this is not called getting even.
Life, you are a vindictive monster.
Life, you should not be me!

---
Nothing bright nothing Biprorshee.

Just curious...

2010-06-14T04:16:00.000-07:00

Why eyes that shall never hide?

Why speech that shall never speak?

Why heart that hates the mind?

Why mind when never mind?

Why you when you walk away?

Why me when I still stumble?

Why we when there’s still them?

Why them? Why them?

Why death with a life saving jacket?

Why life with no painkillers?

---

Why Biprorshee?

Loop

2010-05-27T01:27:00.001-07:00

Window. Rust.

Ventilator. Cardboard.

Box. Cramp.

Breathe? Breathe.

Air. Pollution.

Lungs. Charred.

Needle. Vibgyor.

Dream. Insomnia.

Yes. No.

No. No.

Laughter. Gas.

Tear. Shred.

Life. Wow.

Death. Heil!

Death. Lazarus….

---

All Biprorshee nothing and nobody

theunderground.in interview with me ahead of the Albatross EP release

2010-04-27T00:23:00.000-07:00

So these boys, Aman Bhadauria, Vaibhav Bakshi and Rishab Bhoot started this web site called http://www.theunderground.in/ to promote the underground metal scene. Do visit because it looks just awesome and is easily one of the better looking spaces on the net amid all the clutter.

Vaibhav got in touch with us at Albatross for an interview ahead of our "Dinner is You" EP release. Following is the conversation that took place between Vaibhav and yours truly...

Hey Biprorshee, with EP release just around the corner, how are things looking?

Hi Vaibhav! While we would love to say that after having wrapped up all the work in the studio, we are chilling now, it wouldn’t be very close to the truth. Albatross is excited about the material that has been produced and we really can’t wait for the release. We’ve already mailed all the stuff to Sweden, but due to the recent volcanic bullshit, the DVDs are still in transit. Having said that, there are a lot of other things that are to be taken care of. We are racking our brains over the distribution of the EP, we are thinking of live gigs, the band look etc. Yes, we are still having fun!

So when is it releasing?

We haven’t decided on a release date yet. A lot, of course, depends on when Andy sends us the mastered version. To cut a long story short, we are hoping for a May release.

Since how long have you people been working on this?

“Dining Table” was first recorded and released online as the second Albatross single after “Gigi” sometime in mid-2009 when the band was still Riju’s studio project. As the EP idea was floated, Riju furthered the concept of ‘Kuru’ writing more material. We formally entered the studio with our songs almost as soon as the steady band line up was put together; sometime around January this year.

“Dinner Is You”? It’s quite a unique name, is there any message or story behind it?

Thanks! Glad you think so. I don’t know about the message bit but sure there is a story to it. That is what we are about. Heavy metallers and story tellers with the whole EP being one “horror story”. While most of you folks who have heard our stuff before and know about the band have a broad idea of the concept, we wouldn’t want to let the cat out of the bag yet, would we?

Can you define the sound of Albatross?

I am sure this is one question that stumps most metal artists or even other musicians for that matter. Sure, we can throw fancy genre names such as “heavy metal”, “death metal”, “black metal” blah but that really wouldn’t be fair trying to slot the sound and music. We’ve been called everything from Literature metal to Avant Garde art metal; truth be told whatever floats your boat man :P

Nonetheless befitting the kind of premise we are working, the ideas we have; we have attempted to bring out the eeriness and the dark elements associated with the story we are telling in our songs. We think we have been fairly successful trying to do that. That is something, we think that will stand out and be noticed when it comes to the “Albatross sound”.

Tell us something about the line-up.

The good part about putting the line-up together is that we never really had to spend too much time deciding on whom to zero on. Every member in the band has been the first and only choice. That speaks a lot about how clear Riju has been about the whole thing.

As you’d probably know already, Albatross is Workshop and ex-Old Monk’s bassist Riju Dasgupta’s brainchild and was a studio project for long where he collaborated with various artists from the local scene. The eventual line up was formally put up only in January this year, as I’ve already told you in an earlier question.

A band concept like this needs not just good musicians but like minded ones. Riju and I know each other for a while now and are pretty much on the same wavelength when it comes to our tastes in music and literature (both very important elements in Albatross).

After having done the vocals for “Gigi” and “Dining Table”, I was adamant that if the band eventually went live, I HAVE to be on vocals because Riju’s ideas thrilled me totally. I’m very glad Riju took my “threat” seriously and agreed to let me get on board.

Raj and Riju, again have worked together at length while in Workshop and while composing and recording “Dining Table”. Not just a brilliant guitarist but Raj is one of the best musicians we know with an incredible ear for all that sounds fantastic. There couldn’t have been a better dude at work when it comes to composing those killer riffs and his skills at music production are an added bonus.

Risking sounding repetitive, Jay too is somebody Riju and I know for long and know well. Since his early days with Colossus (Jay’s band), Riju wanted to eventually work with him. Needless to say, Jay brings in awesomeness on those skins. The kinda stuff he has done while we re-recorded “Dining Table” is legendary.

Jimmy is the only dude who makes Albatross seem more like a bad ass metal band and not a teary reunion of blokes who have “known each other for long”. He plays guitar for his Hindi band ‘Moksha’ and he came to Albatross highly recommended after showcasing his skills at MTV Rock On.

Not to forget, you will be pleasantly surprised to hear Mihir Joshi, of The Works’ fame who has been a huge source of support and has done some killer guest vocals on the album.

Who came up with the name of the ep?

Our good friend, Arjun Dhanraj (from Nerverek) who was Riju’s original choice to sing “Dining Table”. He was the one who thought of it while recording the song during Albatross’ studio project days. Yes, there is a Arjun version of the song and no, we will not give it to you. Let us hit it big and our fans shall bootleg that.

“Do you know of this alternate version of “Dining Table”?? :P :P :P

We all know Andy LaRocque is mastering the ep, how much difference is that gonna make?

Fucking huge, man! That’s the difference Andy is going to make. We could go on screaming how Andy LaRocque is a bloody legend and how it is an epic win for us with him being associated with our debut EP.

It’s not just us being awestruck with the King Diamond lead guitarist mastering our EP but we have and you too must check out the stuff that comes out of Sonic Train Studios. We were blown and we cannot tell you how excitedly we wait to lay our hands on “Dinner is You”.

Also, the “Andy LaRocque brand name” on the EP does Albatross a world of good. Wouldn’t you be kicked to hear an Indian band that comes approved all the way from the King Diamond family, the man who has done it all, all that we have barely begun to do.

Final words for the fans?

This one’s going to be worth the wait! We are proud of what we are about to bring to you folks and nothing would give us a greater kick when you sing along to our songs at an eventual Albatross gig coming soon near you.

Thanks a real fucking bunch for having supported Albatross since it began. Thanks for all the downloads and recommendations. Keep listening to the Master. Let Kuru infect you too!

Check out their new samples at www.myspace.com/albatrosshorror

---

All things bright and Biprorshee

Saale Haraami...!!!

2010-03-01T11:16:00.000-08:00

I am a bastard. Not the kind of introductory line that would suit your refined taste and society, I know but such is truth. I am a bastard and literally so. What I mean is that my father, whoever and wherever he is, fucked Henna and conveniently forgot that the act could sometimes result in creating another disinterested life in a cursed womb.

Henna, by the way is my mother or the way I like to put it, my ‘mother’s’ name. Well, she couldn’t care less. I don’t even know if she can put a definite finger on a man and tell me, “He is your father!!”...No... “He was the one who fucked me to cause you”. But she can’t. And she won’t either. She does not talk to me. And I do not give it too much thought myself. I find it utterly amusing sometimes and even let out an occasional giggle when I think of Henna’s patient wait as her tummy swelled up and her body eventually puked me out. Why did she even bother?

So, now you know, I am a bastard and this is my life. Or death??? Whatever is the opposite of the word ‘life’ because mine is not the classic case of living anyway.

If it offends your otherwise sensitive selves, I have a name too. And a story behind that as well, like almost everything. You have a faint idea that Henna is probably not very crazy about me. Her brother, Asif or ‘Cutting’ as he is known around here, of all people took pity on me and gave me the occasional kind stares and looked out for me now and then.

I do have a name like most of you, in case you were wondering. I have Cutting to blame for the same. He named me Junaid after the first man he killed. He got 700 rupees for the job. “Junna, I worked hard for that money. Those seven hundred-rupee notes made me feel worthwhile for the first time ever,” Cutting once told me. My little moment of pride that was as I thought at least I reminded someone of self worth.

But not many call me by that name. It does sadden me; one of those very few things that do. I like the sound of it. “JOO-NAYY-ED!” I’d reply the very first time someone calls me by that name. Otherwise I tend to ignore. Unlike Cutting, I do not obviously have anything that ‘reminds me of self worth’.

Like that one time, this fellow I bought my hash from called out, “Oi, you motherfucker! You don’t need any maal today?” I ignored. He was probably referring to my father. Quite literally so, he was the one that noun suited best.

Now, don’t think all Junaid is about are those sad, dark and clichéd things the streets are made famous for by the movies. Oh! I am happy, more often than you’d know. Ignore the illegitimate bit, the rant of ‘lacking self worth’ and some such, I am happy.

Did I tell you about Harish? The only one besides Cutting who is allowed to call me Junna. I taught him to roll the perfect joint and make the best roaches out of cigarette packs. And only Harish has access to my best hash. I enjoy listening to him as he yaps endlessly about his girlfriend, he so loves and the school, he so hates.

I once even wore his old uniform and sneaked into his school with him. His girlfriend is an idiot and his school does not teach anything I could teach its students in a day.

Harish’s father is your regular office going guy who usually has this big grin on his face each time he pays our ‘home’ a visit. I leave to smoke up at the temple when he does. It does not take a genius to know what Harish’s father and Henna are up to. He forks out some money to me as well with his signature grin. So Harish’s father keeps me happy as well. “Bastard, you are one expensive family,” he often says. Bastard? Of course!

There is one more thing you probably do not know about this bastard. He is a dead bastard. No, really! Henna took that bottle of Old Monks once and smashed it on my head. God knows why! The last thing I remember as I hit the floor was hearing her say, “What a waste of good rum!”

I think Cutting wept and so did Harish. At least I hope they did!

---

All things bright and Biprorshee

Dinner Time

2010-02-01T21:57:00.001-08:00

---

All things metal and Biprorshee

So what is wrong with me?

2009-12-27T22:53:00.001-08:00

They call me attention seeker. Someone said, "Biprorshee thinks if he thinks unconventionally and differently, he'd be cool". Not that I'm complaining or have taken offence but I'm thinking what seems to be the bother.
The culprits here are two film makers -- Mr. James Cameron and Mr. Rajkumar Hirani. Clearly, the toasts of the season, the men of the hour but I'm not impressed. So, I'm what you call an elitist, someone trying too hard, pretentious, fake and the works.
But I'm so sorry dear world; I hated Avatar and had my set of issues with 3 Idiots.
Let's start with Christmas day or actually a few hours before that when a few of us usual suspects decided to have a pre-Christmas dinner together and follow it up with some alcohol at a friend's pad.
A few pegs, a corny movie and some snooze later, I find my bunch of merry men (and women) deciding to take off with a considerate "You sleep! You need to wake up early in the morning." pat on my cheek. Too sleepy to even try to comprehend the situation, I shrug my shoulders, gulp another peg and crash.
The need to wake up early was 3 tickets for a morning show of the Cameron extravaganza and as expected, I reached well after the flick started.
Now, I've read Facebook status messages that claimed Avatar was the best movie experience ever and some more blah. I yawned. The 3D glasses were bad and it didn't make much difference if I wore them or not. But my basic issue was, "Where and what is the story, guys?"
What was so mindboggling about yet another out-of-the-planet war garnished with a love story, an insider job going bad and stuff that would make our home bred storywriters claim divine status???
Why would I want to celebrate a movie only because the "Special FX were insane"? No, I'm sorry, I've seen other movies that had killer FX with a storyline and performances that kept me entertained. One being Cameron's very own masterpiece.
Another friend who probably thinks the same way as most do about me passes a legend remark -- "Dude, you are asking for an item number in an art cinema". While I totally understand his sentiments, I would like to wonder if the story in a movie has now the same significance as an 'item number'.
Avatar was dumb, very very dumb and after all these justifications, your honour, if my perspectives are still taken to be as a way to be different, please enlighten, what is wrong with me?
Case two and we go back even further to the summer of 2004 when while on a trip to Baroda, I found one lonely little book stacked ignored under the 'New Arrivals' section at a book store there. The title of the book read, 'Five Point Someone - What Not To Do At IIT!'. I picked it up, scanned the jacket and put it right back. I was at the fag end of the vacation with only a few, no, very few hundreds in my pocket. No reason to buy the book but I did. And I read, loved and recommended the same.
What I loved about the book is of little significance here and the fact that the whole world loved it in the months to come and an IIT and IIM graduate soon had enough money to give up a plush bank job and "focus on writing" will of course not count when I would want to be counted not as a black sheep.
Ok let's not digress. So what turned me off 3 Idiots that was based on the above novel? The fact that too many people liked it already? Or that it made people talk of how fantastic the movie seemed much before having seen it? Or maybe that annoying man, his wife and doubly annoying kids sitting next to me at the late night screening?
No, let me first chalk out what I thought worked great for the movie. The look and appeal of the film, the lightheartedness, the music and the beautifully penned lyrics and to an extent the performances.
I say, to an extent, because say what you have to but Aamir 'Mr. Versatility' Khan doesn't look convincing as a student anymore. Seriously, give me a break. Nor do Madhavan or Sharman Joshi. To take nothing away from their performances but we have all been in college sometime and I'm not even talking post graduation. I think we were a bit younger then. Yes, it matters!
I say, to an extent, also because Boman Irani hams and how. "It is difficult to talk like that ya", I'm told but why did you need to anyway?
Mona Singh? I think now I love the braces more.
I say, to an extent, also because most of the performances otherwise are endearing really. Be it the 3 Idiots themselves, Kareena Kapoor or Omi Vaidya ('Silencer' if you can't recognise him). The performances are sincere, the screenplay tight.
However, it is Rajkumar Hirani that is the best thing about 3 Idiots and probably, the worst too.
It is a major Munnabhai hangover. The same solution to the world's crises. Be a black sheep, be annoyingly nice yet eccentric and the hardest of hearts shall melt.
While the first half was enjoyable, the second half seemed as if Hirani had run out of ideas where and how to end it all. It was long, over the top and almost a headless chicken. Seriously guys, while I'm sure engineering geeks are known to come up with the most eccentric 'inventions' but don't you think delivery with a vaccum cleaner is a bit too much to gulp down?
While it is great that the movie is 'based on' and not an 'adaption of' the novel, the direction the story takes in the film is very bizarre. Why the whole Javed Jaffery angle? The mystery of the protagonist could still be maintained.
There were some brilliant instances in the book that were ignored. While the 'insti roof' became the 'water tank', it should've been better captured. The roof almost was another character in itself in the book while the water tank was pure wasted. Anybody who has had a similar adda would know what I'm talking about. An adda is not just where we sat, smoked some gaanja, gulped some rum and slapped each other's backs. It was almost another buddy in the gang.
While there are excerpts that would probably make you 'roll in the aisle' there are others if you think about it, would make you cringe at the sheer 'seen it oh so many times before' nature. The baby delivery scene was one, of course and the whole 'kidnapping' the bride from her wedding was one more.
Utterly predictable, it gets post the interval basically!
And of course, the utterly irritating war against the education system. Again, it was just a part of the story in the book not the main theme.
Bhagat probably will continue all his life basking (read writing) off the glory of his debut novel. I just hope Hirani doesn't do the same. It will be a pity because while I'm not too crazy about the author, the film maker, I have great respect for.
Bah! I tried hard not to make this look like a 3 Idiots review and mask it behind my personal grudges. I failed.
So, what is wrong with me?

---
All things bright and Biprorshee

The Unforgiven ...

2009-12-17T03:56:00.000-08:00

I had a friend....I loved her, everybody loved her and she loved us all...then somewhere, things went wrong...she needed us...we weren't there...instead we hurt her worse...she kept quiet...she just went numb as I could see...

we never got back that warmth...

then somewhere along the way, she lost her son...we were all there...but I could hardly see a handful concerned...she kept quiet...she went more numb as I could see...but she smiled...she smiled at us all...(yes, she laughed at us all)...but she knew when to say "stay away" to us...we couldn't figure out how she could not need us anymore...at least I couldn't...

she moved to a city close to mine...we promised to meet each other and after a lot of such plans that never took shape, we actually did...I met her...we hugged...we talked..we had fun but I could see she'd not let

me cross a certain line...I didn't say anything...we had a lovely day...we never met after that...

I asked myself what could have possibly gone wrong...I got my answer...we never gave her love when she wanted it...we were there to hurt her...more...we made her numb and yet we wanted her to come up to us and be apologetic for something we all began...and then I knew it's too late...the girl had learnt her lessons...

she doesn't need anything, anyone, anymore...I knew it was too late...and WE were all responsible!

---

All things bright and Biprorshee

Mine and Yours, Lovingly ...

2009-11-12T00:29:00.000-08:00

It rains again, do you hear?

Do you feel the drops break on your pale face?

Do you still take joy? Do you smile?

Do you remember?

I taste the rain again

To wonder if it tastes too different from mine

It’s just as bland though, and tasteless

Like my twinge that is no fun anymore

Hopelessly hopeful makes me fetch my cup for more

Two spoonfuls of sugar and I promise I’ll smile like a kid

I think of you too, you know that

I’m not selfish you know

My love’s almost a favour

To you and to me.

I’m not selfish, you know

Do you still smile? Do you still think of me?

Do you still long for us to be under the same rain?

I do.

I do because the rain is your heart

Which when I kiss shatters into a hundred pieces

The rain is you.

It rains again, do you hear?

It rains again, I love you.

---
All things bright and Biprorshee

Lies and more lies....

2009-10-22T01:50:00.000-07:00

It's a hard day's night. But I ask myself as I tiptoe back to my second floor flat, "Which night isn't?".

I knock gently at the door, careful to not use the doorbell. The door opens in a flash and I hold on to the stairs trying not to fall off as she wraps her arms around my legs and screams, "You're home! Yay! Now we'll have dinner, we'll finish the ice cream and I'll kiss you just as you like it when you tell me that you love me!"

Ok, now I'm this short of screaming out loud. Do I blame her for all that I've lost? Or just that one thing that I've lost and I'm the poorest man in the world? Do I blame her for loving me this crazily? Do I blame her for reminding me of my only heartbreak over and over again? Do I blame her for being such a spitting image of her mother, the woman who'd probably be the other person hugging me right now at this unearthly hour and probably saying the same things? Hold back a while darling and let me think am I insane to be loving you or even crazier to doubt if I should be loving you? Hold on, darling, hold on!

She locks up her other best friend in her room lest his barks and craving for attention should hog into her moment in the sun. And I'm so crazy to already think that I'm her best friend. I doubt too much. It's just fitting that I should be so lonely. I deserve it.

As I walk out of the shower and slip into 'something comfortable', she narrates how she punched down the bully in her class who was trying to snatch the sandwich she fixed for herself in the morning. She had, in all her 5-year of innocence, slipped in one half of the same almost neatly packed in foil paper into my haversack. She is careful not to ask me anything about it. Her wide eyes ask me nonetheless. My smile lies, "It was the best sandwich in the world".

As she gulps down her glass of milk and I empty my plate, she offers to clear the table. She does. And then I clear it. :)

I know what she is waiting for now. It's my favourite time before sleep too. I sink into my easychair and she jumps on my lap resting her head on my chest.

"Now show me again how Ma smiled when both of you held me for the first time in the hospital. Tell me again, don't I smile like her?", she asks.

I'm trying hard like every time to hold back those overwhelmed eyes of mine and look at her lovingly at the same time. It's a balance I'm horrible at striking. It is a lie, I'm trying to get better at.

I light my last cigarette. I have tried my best to avoid this dastardly habit of mine before her. I exhale. She screams, "It is winter. Just like how the smoke came out of your mouth the last time we went back to Jaipur".

I swear this is going to be my last cigarette ever. I lie again....

---
All things bright and Biprorshee

Hurrah Everybody!!!

2009-10-15T00:29:00.000-07:00

"Goli khaya, zor se chillaya, mombatti jalaya, gussa bhi dikhaya par saala vote dena yaad nahi aaya! Mumbaikars, chalo Leopold's daaru peene!!!"

Here's to the magnificent turnout for the Rajya Sabha polls in Mumbai! Take delight and the next time you bring out the candles, shove it....

---
All things bright and Biprorshee

A Colossal Push

2009-10-08T05:07:00.000-07:00

Read something online. It made a lot of sense. 'A Colossal Push' it is called.

-----------

A COLOSSAL PUSH

This might seem longer
but carry it with you
like a feathered sprinkle
touching your invisible wings
don't let it break
this charm of a dream
it takes you where the world is
where everything works the way it is
make it grow
like a temptation in the dark worlds
but don't let the force tag you with it
else the fate of Icarus will be yours
keep the faith glowing

-----------

---

All things bright and Biprorshee

Sour nothings....

2009-10-08T00:07:00.000-07:00

What good is a happy heart if not an oxymoron?
Two lives, four words, half a dozen tears...
...and the world's love...

---
All things bright and Biprorshee

Cacophonica

2009-10-06T23:24:00.000-07:00

Sang a song of six pence...
...A music just as cheap as this life!!!

---
All things hated and Biprorshee

Swine thing!

2009-08-23T23:24:00.000-07:00

This space has been devoid of any activity for a long time. But that is so me. I just stand amazed (and happy) looking at the the number of my posts. I'm even looney enough to calculate the percentage rise annually. :P

Anyway, amid all the swine talk that is in the air and handkerchief makers who can't stop thanking God enough in my lovely little cursed city, I, all of 26 braved the flu and managed to catch Kaminey long after all of my good friends are through with their second and third watches of the flick.

Thanks to a party I had no strength or will to attend and Riju Dasgupta who promised me 3 hours of doing nothing before he could grant me his darshan, I made hay while the sun set. Tiptoed into Eternity Mall, Thane and treated myself to front row tickets to the flick everybody can't stop talking about.

To cut a long story short, no, I did not think Vishal Bhardwaj ushered in a brave new world of Hindi cinema with Kaminey. I'm sorry but for once I do not agree with "India's widest read film critic" (so says Wikipedia) Rediff's Raja Sen and his magnificent 4.5/5 rating. Sen could also be India's most hated film critic. Check out the flak he receives for each of his review in the Rediff discussion forum.

But Sen could take a walk, I walked out at the end of the movie exhausted and a tad disappointed. While some of my friends could attribute it to my penchant for disliking all that is popular but such isn't the case here.

I fail to understand why-oh-why could such a potentially strong plot move at a pace akin to cabs in Andheri at 6-30 pm. Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels? Maybe! I was left wanting more. The woven plot made for some serious Guy Ritchie recall but that is not a bad thing at all. The dark theme brought back Maqbool to me after the rustic Omkara but 2.5 hours is a tad too long for the confusion to culminate in the final melee.

The shaky shots work fine reminding me of those 3D rides I enjoyed so much as a kid as I saw myself running with Shahid Kapoor (evidently that's the next best thing Kapoor does in the movie besides delivering a top notch performance..RUN) but it kind of gets a bit overdone.

Charlie Sharma's sudden breaking into philosophical discourses every now and then doesn't work for me. Sure, I understand when you're telling me that I'll get jacked not because of the path I choose to take but the one I choose to leave behind, Charlie but the dialogue sounds cheesy like nothing else and especially when you have to repeat it more than once. A similar thought for your "life's doosra mauka".

The linear way of narrating the story tends to irk me somewhat. But that, of course is a very very personal observation. Me thinks a non-linear narative structure could have made this movie a hell lot interesting.

The end melee is yet another disappointment. A plethora of confusion and a couple of dozen gun-crazy goons make a long and boring climax. Shoot 'em all up, I say.

However what pricked me most was the preachy nature of a movie like this and the utterly and ridiculously run-of-the-mill end. "Zindagi tujhe doosra mauka de rahi hai", "Guddu's twin children", "Charlie's Mikhail & Co."....oh dear brother!!!

Clearly, Kaminey rides high on the performances. One more of those films that pick the lesser-known fine performers but such is the tribe of Bhardwaj and my once favourite RGV. I could still thank Vishal Bhardwaj endlessly for Deepak Dobriyal. Think Rajju Tiwari, the jilted lover, the Roderigo in Omkara or Thapa in Maqbool.

Bhardwaj does a similar favour with Chandan Roy Sanyal who plays Mikhail. An endearing character, I sure felt sorry it didn't last more than it did. While I have already said how the length of the movie annoyed me, I would've liked it better had fine tuned actors like Rajatabha Dutta and Deb Mukherjee been given some more meat and not come across as utterly wasted. I mean, c'mon, your movie is already as long as it is!

Amol Gupte's portrayal of Bhope Bhau makes me wonder why we don't see more of him on screen. Priyanka Chopra does every justice to Sweety Bhope but is clearly overshadowed by Shahid Kapoor to whom this movie belongs.

Kapoor's work reminded me, I don't know why, but a lot of Ken Ghosh's god-awful movie Fida, that was thankfully forgotten 5 years ago. While I'd do myself a favour not talking of that horrid experience of beating-my-fist-to-my-head-because-it-felt-so-good for 3 hours, I knew I had liked Kapoor's sincerity to his braindead character.

I'm glad Kapoor has nobody to steal his thunder this time after Jab We Met (He was just as good if not better than his ex-flame). And then there are two of him this time to take care of any such insecurities. Yay! I'm sure everybody has been saying this; I'll repeat too,"Watch out for more of this guy!"

I'm too bored already to talk anymore of the movie lest I too make an epic of a short story if I haven't done it already. My apologies if I have and my apologies to that cute couple who couldn't make out any more post interval when I moved a few rows behind and were busy looking at me before every kiss they stole. "Kaun dekha, kaun dekha???....Koi nahi!" :)

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All things bright and Biprorshee

Nothing remains but the dance....

2009-06-25T22:04:00.001-07:00

Michael Jackson
August 29, 1958 - June 25, 2009
Healed the World!

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All things bright and Michael Jackson

The Bridge to Nowhere....

2009-06-24T21:11:00.000-07:00

Local tabloid Mumbai Mirror is making a lot of noise about suburban train passengers crossing tracks and either being chopped to bits or landing up in the slammer. Noble intention! Kudos!
The last two days, I've read of horror stories that how a young boy lost his legs and then went on to lose his job and fiancee in that split second decision to split the second shorter. Such a split. Pardon the gore.
I read of this one gentleman who spent a good three days in prison and he remembered them as the "worst days of his life" to MM. Sigh!
Step behind MM. I've seen bodies gruesomely cut and carelessly stacked on stretchers at railway stations well before the tabloid campaign. I've not seen many taking good notes in this classroom.
In absolute agreement with MM, I find the idea of crossing railway tracks totally disgusting to say the least. Beats me how someone would want to display his/her daredevil stunts knowing well the repurcussions.
Statutory warnings don't work and I know that well. The gory pictures on cigarette packets have not impressed me enough to cut my nicotine intake. So I know. All those signboards at stations and bored voices over the PA pleading with the city's impatient citizens to not cross tracks barely have borne fruit. We know that well!
Infact, of those booming announcements, I find one of particular interest. One that tells me that a fast train is about to pass a platform and I shouldn't be trying to cross the tracks now.
So, can I do it later? Is that what you're trying to tell me? The way I see it, the authorities have taken for granted that I shall cross the tracks whether or not I fear for my limbs and life or my wallet or being dragged to jail. Whom am I kidding?
The articles in the tabloid barely serves any purpose. Fear psychosis is not working on us Daredevil Dans. Shame and disgust are virtues, we left behind somewhere in our rush to reach our offices before our bosses. So now what? I don't know.
Let me be as callous, ignorant and self centred as my million other "city-zens" and shrug my shoulders saying, "I don't do this. What goes of my daddy??? I shall hope you too don't and reach home/work safely." I'm a responsible citizen. Amen!
But no, I've been callous, ignorant and self-centred....what about the cribbing me?
Now I point a finger at you, administration. I poke it right in your eye and ask you now that you've fined us big money (with or without receipts), threatened or have called our relatives telling them of our heinous crime, have dragged us to courts and prisons, are you sleeping well yet?
You, oh Lord Almighty have been quick to resort to punishment and did not worry yourself silly thinking about the cure in the first place!
I come from this one small central suburb called Kalyan. Friends and well wishers often can't emphasise enough how it is the other end of the world (You'd be surprised if I tell you it isn't).
The station is big and I'm told is an important junction as well. We've recently been gifted another grand footover bridge over the six platforms. It has dustbins. Woo hoo!
But people are still crossing tracks, my Lord and they are being cut. Chop chop! You see, while you were busy giving us that swanky footover bridge and are busy tearing down the fabric of smooth traffic with the promise of a skywalk on the west side of the suburb, east still remains ignored.
As I walk to the auto rickshaw stand on the eastern scheme of things, I have little choice but to CROSS THE TRACKS on foot. Why? Because my Lord, you didn't think a overbridge was necessary for us Eastern mortals!
Those four parallel tracks on which goods trains ply regularly have seen many a smart asses being hacked in two. Forget that. This being the season Rain Gods are supposedly going to smile on us, I'm pretty sure I will have to just stand there getting drenched on one occasion too many as one of those never ending trains will take forever to pass.
Sure, Your Highness, these are trivialities better best ignored! The West is where the sun shines these days. (Pun intended)
I know of another suburb--Kanjur Marg, which I could safely say accounts for the maximum accidents of this freak nature. Why? Because till recently you never thought a footover bridge was necessary for a two-platformed station.
But now, you've given us one and it is another cool addition. Does the new shopping mall at a stone's throw or those ritzy high-rises that have suddenly sprung up have anything to do with it? They just might!
These are just couple of examples of the lack of footover bridges. I was pleased to note in MM that there were people who felt similarly. "People who cross tracks are not criminals", "The infrastructure and administration still leaves a lot to be desired"...so me-dearies aren't all that callous yet. Phew!
But there are still the ones who insist on crossing those tracks at Kanjur Marg to race to the auto rickshaws, and there are the ones who make a quick dash to the next platform as another "fast train to Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus" is announced at Kalyan. New bridges be damned! The circle continues. We get butchered. I go home!

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All things bright and Biprorshee

Came crawling faster! By God, obeyed the master!!!

2009-04-11T15:29:00.000-07:00

This post comes a week too late and I can't be sorry enough for the same!
Avoiding any further fluff, this is my tribute to the legend that is Metallica.
What prompted this? Unless you're a Metallica fan and have been living under a boulder, you'd know barely a week before, the little short of being the most worshipped heavy metal band was inducted into Rock & Roll Hall of Fame!
If one mere fan among the many zillions can be this overwhelmed, I can just about guess what it could mean to those four gentlemen and everyone associated with the band since they single-handedly invented and perfected a concept called "Thrash Metal"! Big, BIG up to you!
I happened to know of the development courtesy my fellow metalhead brother, Rohan Moorthy. Sometime early last month, as I was walking back home one late night after work, my phone buzzed. Rohan's text read "Metallica to be inducted into Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. (Dave) Mustaine writes them a letter of congratulations. Metallica invite him for ceremony party and induction......" I smiled; both at the Hall of Famers and the olive branch.
Now, as I scan through YouTube watching the ceremony, I gullibly believe that Lars Ulrich, James Hetfield, Kirk Hammett, Rob Trujillo and Jason Newsted did thank me personally when they thanked their fans.
I might have cared to begin this note with a disclaimer that would have probably helped to make me seem a less a charmed fan and more a citizen of heavy metal. I'll try now nonetheless.
Disclaimer: I'm not as much a big Metallica fan as I'm an Iron Maiden or Megadeth freak!!! So there!
But this is not about which is a better band or who is a bigger fan. This is about something, I shall honestly say, not every headbanger feels! This is about something bigger. This is about being a family!! A family of outcastes, a family of wasted teenagers and jobless adults, a family of angry hearts and violent minds?? No, this is a family that lies deep under that superficial shit you all see, a family that lies deep and lies warm and lies strong.
Metallica was one of the first bands to have given me that welcome feeling into the fraternity. I've long believed in this one adage--"Birth, School, Metallica, Death!" I've moved on long before to bands I thought I respect more, bands I thought were technically better, bands I thought and the world told me that "didn't sell out" only to come back to this powerhouse of soul.
For quite some time, there was this one song that defined Metallica to me. Little wonder it would be, it was "Nothing Else Matters". It was epic and I couldn't care about what the band had already offered to the world long before The Black Album hit the stands. When I eventually picked up the album a good 10 years since it actually was released, I was shocked to hear the opening riff of "Enter Sandman" as the tape rolled in my walkman. People actually play that fast??? People actually like it????
Don't laugh but I didn't even know Kill 'em All, Ride the Lightning, Master of Puppets or ...And Justice for All even existed. It wasn't long enough before I knew better. That did not mean I abandoned that little tape that introduced heavy metal to me.
As much as I risk sounding unbelievably naive, I must admit because it is nothing but the truth that Metallica's thrash metal was my best refuge in few of the toughest days I've lived.
I remember banging my head like a man possessed to "The Unforgiven", "For Whom The Bell Tolls", "Master of Puppets" and so much more locked up in my little room that defined my little world for a long time.
I remember hearing "Master of Puppets" for the first time and getting goosebumps (and that is not in the least bit over reaction) listening to the epic guitar solos. I remember hearing "Fade to Black" and wonder what kind of a mad genius can write a song that beautiful and so simple. I remember hearing "(Welcome Home) Sanitarium" and feeling grateful that music voices what I want most--"Leave me be". I remember watching the video for "One" and thinking "This is it! This is so fucking it!!!" I remember "Anesthesia (Pulling Teeth)" and wondering "That's a bass guitar being played???" I remember Metallica and I salute!
It could be argued forever between the Megadeth and Metallica camps over who stayed true to the basics of thrash and who gave in to commercial interests. However, it cannot be denied that had there been no Metallica, there would be as much signs of Megadeth.
Metallica today is arguably the most "popular" rock band in the world and maybe they indeed have long frowned upon single "I Disappear" and the almost shunned by loyalists St Anger to thank for the same.
They might have betrayed by chopping their locks, getting Napster banned, shunning the essence of thrash metal in later albums but they have serviced and nurtured the family long enough to be remembered and respected forever.
Outsider music you might have felt, this always was but had you paid heed to Flea (Red Hot Chili Peppers bassist who inducted Metallica into the roll), you'd know that you chose to forget that while we outsiders made a "song and dance" about anger and violence, we channelised our pain and hurt into something creative that helped many other in need to embrace the gift with open arms and heart. Something beautiful was built by us urchins that let us stick to guitars while you fine world still pulled out a gun. Think about it! We barely sang about bullets, you shot them and still do!
And today I cannot thank anybody more than Metallica for having given me a gift I've held on ever since and have felt nothing but immense pride each time I made a fist of fury, opened it and found my escapade.
I thank only James, Lars, Dave, Ron, Cliff, Kirk, Jason and Rob for the music and the life. Godspeed!
...and to Cliff Burton--"Bell bottoms shall forever rule and you shall forever be that madman behind 'Anesthesia (Pulling Teeth)'. You should've been here. Rest forever in peace!"

"So close no matter how far
Couldn't be much more from the heart
Forever trust in who we are
And nothing else matters"

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All things bright and Biprorshee

I salute thee, Pakistan!

2009-03-15T23:25:00.000-07:00

Blasphemy eh, my fellow Indians? But today, I really want to stand up and salute our neighbour for setting one fantastic example.
For a few days, we saw a country on the verge of spontaneous combustion. Leaders in hiding, no news of the President's whereabouts, talks of a military coup and one frustrated bunch of people. No points to describe the situation as "volatile" and what an understatement would that be.
Nonetheless, all political motivations aside, all the bad blood between Pakistan Muslim League-N and Pakistan People's Party aside, I say kudos to the people's power.
People came out on the streets, heeded to the call of a "Long March" and sparked off a massive civil disobedience movement. What is remarkable is the fact that not a drop of blood was shed and the government eventually was made to listen...AND ACCORDINGLY ACT!
The Chief Justice Iftikhar Muhammad Chaudhry and the deposed judges were reinstated and the "Long March" called off.
Asif Ali Zardari and Yousuf Raza Gilani dismiss it as the meeting of a promise that was made earlier. Ok! But the way I see it, the reinstatement or the promise are not my concern.
What I find of importance here is that in a country like Pakistan about which the world is quick to create stereotypes, a mass movement like this could be carried out successfully.
Could we not take a leaf out of this book? We can't. Even as the general election stare us in the face, we can't. Somewhere I still need to be convinced that we live in a people's democracy and not UPA's, NDA's or the "Third Front's"!
Full power, Pakistan!

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All things bright and Biprorshee

Delhi 6 "Review"!!!

2009-02-21T20:05:00.000-08:00

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"Kaala bandar (Black monkey) ate this review up. CHOMP!!! Bwwaahhaahahahahaha...."
Mummmmeeeeeeeee............

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All things bright and Biprorshee

Lal Salaam!

2009-02-18T20:25:00.000-08:00

February 19, 2009. RED LETTER DAY! First day in the EquityWire, NewsWire18! Got transferred from the Mutual Fund team. Damn! It feels weird. How I felt each first day of a new school that I joined. To think, I'm almost 3 years old in this organisation! Bachaao!!! Damn! I miss FundWire. Boo hoo...

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All things bright and Biprorshee

Bengaluru Tales...

2009-02-16T22:41:00.000-08:00

Now that it's been over 24 hours since I'm back from the Garden City and have little to write about on the mutual fund front (like always), I must put on record my whirlwind visit.

Friday the 13th began with the realisation that not a single thing has been packed for the trip and I can't simply wake up at 5AM. I nonetheless made it to the railway station well before time and after a few initial hiccups (try RAC tickets), began a 24 hour long journey.

Got friendly with these utterly adorable elderly men and sang some few dozen retro Hindi songs late into the night. Who'd even guess that I'm a "bad ass metalhead" headed to an Iron Maiden concert!!!

Reaching Bangalore (why does this sound so much better than Bengaluru), I had a first hand experience of what my mates in B'lore couldn't warn me enough about. "Yaha ke autowaale nanga kar dete hai" which literally reads "The local auto rickshaw guys strip you naked". Before one thinks that the B'lore auto drivers have some strange penchant for less clothed passengers, the sentence should simply be understood as these guys fleece you naked!!!! Oh, well!

Touching base at Barnita's place, I saw how absolutely kooky but totally wonderful Faheem and Barnita are. Gobbled my first masala dosa in B'lore after over a decade. Bliss! And while Shalini confirmed that she can't meet up any time before early evening, drastic plan changes were made as I headed to Shreyas' place.

Killing some time at Shreyas', I left for Shalini's. Shreyas told me just the thing to do to avoid being taken for a ride by the autowaalas. Awesome pun! :P "Make them feel like they rule the world," said Shreyas. While Shreyas took care of the initial crowning, I tried to take care of the rest with my broken Kannada. "Oota aaitu?", auto dude asked; "Oota maadbitte", said Biprorshee. (Had food?...Yes, had food!). Auto dude merrily grins, "Saar, you from Baambaya and you talk Kannada? Very goodda!".

While at Shalini's, Mukherjee aunty couldn't stop saying how I was the naughty, cute kid of the neighbourhood and how different I seemed now. Indeed, considering the last time she saw me was when I was 5 and had a massive crush on her daughter. How naughty, how very cute!

A daal-chawal lunch (the way I love it), quite a few laughs with aunty, Shalini and her totally cute cousin Mithai and I headed back to Barnita's with Gunjan who by then had announced his arrival as well.

Plans were made, pub prospects were discussed till eventually we decided that we are headed nowhere and will be killing time at home trying to get drunk. I didn't even finish my first drink and I was woozy in the head already. Gunjan left sometime late in the night and I crashed on the floor to the tunes of the black metal blaring on Fa's computer.

16th morning and I wake up to find it is 8. Run!!! No shower, just change clothes. Call up Shreyas. Call up Gunjan! Get out. After all the chaos, I hugged Barnita bye bye and thanked both of them for a wonderful time. Aah sweetness!

With the inevitable confusion here and there Gunjan, Shreyas, Shreyas' mate and yours truly reached Palace Grounds at around noon.

The venue seemed much better managed and the event better organised than the previous two. Seems DNA did learn the right lessons. Gates opened fashionably late but no one was complaining. People were seen lazying around and once inside, one could see water kiosks (Thank you thank you thank you DNA), food stalls, alcohol stalls and some such.

The turnout was not surprisingly low. The initial madness like 2007 was pleasantly not seen. People continued to loiter around while we guys cemented our place in the front. Yet another front row...wooohooo!!! We took turns to go have lunch, pee, smoke and the works. We were by then joined by Abhirup and his Pune mates.

The opening bands began around 3 and carried on till 7 (including Lauren Harris excluding Parikrama). By late evening, we guys pretty much had it with the growl fest. Almost every band was more or less a death meets new age meets thrash band. What utter boredom when every song seemed same and every vocalist trying too hard. The UK bands were strictly ok. There's only so much death metal I can stand. The last band called "Brandon Ashley and The Silver Bugs" even had cheerleaders with pom poms on stage. I kid you not, this has got to be a first in rock history.

The pick of the lot to me surely was Bangalore's own "Slain", the first band. Riju had a lot of good things to say about this power metal band and I saw why. While bad sound plagued every band, Slain suffered most and it's a shame because their all original setlist seemed an absolute treat. Watch out for this one.

CRI winners Abraxas' music made as much sense to me as their name. Let's leave it at that. Synaps, another B'lore band were ok. While their Rage Against the Machine cover wasn't really the best one I've heard, the KoRn track was well done. Their OCs made for some pleasant hearing while the front man did a fine job managing the crowd with his "Sit down for a minute please" and "What will you do when I say jumpthefuckup?" stunt.

Now Kryptos is a band I really have respected over the years that I've heard them. Not subscribing much to their thrash/death style, I've always loved their stress on OCs. They made the best of the sound they got onstage and sounded fab. Tower of Illusions was very very neat and now I have a good mind of picking up their last album The Ark of Gemini wherever I can find it.

Once again, I shall refrain from commenting on Lauren Harris though it was rather sad to see bottles, cola cups, and even Gutkha packets and pebbles being thrown at her band. But she really is bad!

Parikrama once again had bad sound to deal with and had a very short set of only four songs. Subir later said how they didn't do a soundcheck and that did them in.

Well, all said and done, at sharp 8, Churchill boomed once again and the veteran heroes of New Wave of British Heavy Metal jumped onstage for the third time in India. We guys held on to the barricade tight and thus began our two hour long screaming, head banging and what not.

The onstage sound this time around was much better than Mumbai last year but there was a sense of lethargy one could sense in Iron Maiden Sunday evening. Now this is a total personal observation but the band seemed in a strange hurry to rush through their set. Bangalore missed the usual entertaining Bruce banter. No, Bruce didn't speak much to the crowd and one song quickly followed another.

However, we got our healthy dose of "Scream for me Bangalore/India" and that more or less compensated. "Moonchild" was dropped from the set and was missed. So my personal highlight this time was "Children of the Damned", yet another monster of a track from The Number of the Beast that Maiden have not performed live for a while now.

There was "Phantom of the Opera" and I know many who were waiting for this song very eagerly. Riju earlier called to say, "Phantom bajaayega to call karna". I did. Minutes after I hung up, I received a text saying, "I owe you a beer". :)

The set was more or less what was played in Mumbai. "Rime of the Ancient Mariner" heard live for the second time in a row. I sure am blessed. The set ended with the 3-song encore act that wound up with "Sanctuary", yet another addition and a promise of a new studio album the next year followed by a "brand new tour" to India. I've said earlier how Bruce Dickinson's word is worth its weight in gold and I believe it in entirety. So I can't wait for my fourth appointment with the barricades whenever it happens.

While the band left and the crowd kept begging for more, I was on the verge of collapsing. "Dehydration" said Gunjan as the rest of the guys almost carried me back. While Shreyas brought my baggage parked at his place, Gunjan's mate Umang booked an early morning cab to the airport for me.

I could barely speak. Somehow I bade Gunjan farewell as I dropped dead at Umang's place. Can't believe I won't be seeing this fellow for quite a while now.

The sleep till 3AM did me good and I can't thank Umang enough for all the help. Although still wobbly, I managed a quick cold shower and tried to sleep the long ride to the airport. Paid a king's ransom (if kings were only kidnapped for 800 bucks) to the cabbie and sleepwalked through the check-in, boarding and rest of the journey back home.

It was back to the grind before you could say "DJango". The Interim Budget being read by Pranab Mukherjee and I'm sitting at the rooftop of Four Seasons Hotel with no clue of what I'm doing.

Shezan's mate in Bangalore Chinmayi hung out with Maiden apparently and Bruce even left her the hat he wore onstage. She was supposed to help me meet the band, which didn't happen eventually of course.

Anyway, Chinmayi called up while Somnath Chatterjee adjourned the session for 10 minutes as one MLA fell sick (the moment the Finance Minister began the part on taxes :P). She screamed, "Rishi, where are you? Let's meet up today and hang out somewhere." I sighed as I told her that the hanging out will have to wait. Till the next time, I again begin to collect dope for "Bengaluru tales"....

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All things bright and Biprorshee

Thought for the day...

2009-02-10T21:48:00.000-08:00

It is very, very strange indeed how our IB has an inkling of Mohammad Ajmal Amir Kasab's life being threatened by the all powerful Dawood Ibrahim while the same IB had little clue when a whole city was under seige and laymen massacred by the very maniac they badly want to protect!
Going by their very mettle, shouldn't for our own safety, we be assigned one IB dude for every person in the country?
Jana Gana Mana Adhinayaka Jaya He...BHARAT BHAGYA VIDHAATA....

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All things bright and Biprorshee

Goa's OK!

2009-01-26T19:13:00.000-08:00

Finally, in my almost 26 years of existence, I managed to make a trip to what I had held so far as the most overhyped tourist destination in this country. After the trip, I was humbled!
My finances were tight to begin with and this had promised to be an expensive trip. It lived up well to the same. Hence, no souvenir shopping, no binging on alcohol, no trance parties (I couldn't care less) and much to my good friend Manojitda's woes, no sex with strangers (or acquaintances either)!
So there were no souvenirs, or were they? I brought along with me snippets in my mind I shall hold on to for a long time. No epiphany, nothing out of the ordinary but a genuine joy that was very, very personal is what I carried back.
I probably was the most boring tourist in the history of Goa tourism but Arambol was love at first sight and there was absolutely no scope for infedility. So there I swore to stay my entire stay.
Be it the cottages me and my four mates rented, the lake between them, Stanzin, Phunti and gang - our absolutely wonderful hosts, the 3AM walks on the beach or the mind numbingly beautiful fresh water lake I discovered on the second day, it seemed like this was my very own, very personal.
The five of us had our bit of fun in our own way. While the rest decided to hop around beaches, get drunk, go clubbing and some such, I was at my best savouring every inch of the Arambol beach, swimming alone into the sea, spending my evenings by my cottage and the subtly lit lake, singing myself hoarse with Phunti going crazy on the guitar later in the night and of all the lovely food Goa has to offer, gorging on Dal-chawal throughout.
There was something incredible to the extent of being divine as I walked the length of the beach woefully early Monday morning. There was this sense of invinciblity as I sang aloud while a rough sea roared. All modesty aside, I never thought I sounded better.
By Monday evening, there was this bittersweet me. I would be lying if I said that "Fuck! I wish I didn't have to leave". But I knew I was going to miss this place. As I hugged Stanzin, Phunti, Om and the rest, my eyes were moist. Come to think of it, I never knew these guys before and these were just the people who owned and managed a retreat I chose to stay at.
But there was something very humbling about this trip, about the place, about the people I met there. Something I've never felt during any other vacation of mine.
There are things I need to thank everyone and everything there for. Thank you Stanzin, for giving me my first hash joint years after I thought I had given up. Not to mention the free whiskeys and the absolutely delicious banoffee pie. You were right, it's completely worth getting caught stealing the pie from the kitchen as many times as you claim. Thank you Stanzin for letting us into that gorgeous little heaven you've built.
Thank you Phunti for sharing your music with me, for strumming the guitar late into the morning without complaining. Thanks for the gorgeous parting words, "Bipro, keep on singing always". I sure shall!
Thank you Om, Girish and Raju for ensuring every bit of comfort. Not to mention the incredible favour of running down to the market each time I ran out of cigarettes.
Thank you Arambol for being so beautiful and so scaringly alive. I've felt you sing along as the seas roared while I sang to you and the starriest sky I've ever seen. I've felt you smiling as I held my mates while on their drunken stupor. I've felt you urging to walk on that sunny afternoon when I tiringly thought I had nothing else to discover and then I reached the fresh water lake around the hills.
Thank you Goa for giving me three gorgeous days (and an incredible tan).
Back at my work desk Tuesday morning, I find a small piece of paper neatly cut to take the shape of a bracelet; on which hand scribbled are the words, "Enjoy Goa!" :) The trademark handicraft tells me it is Mansi. Why thank you Ms. Kelkar because I sure did!

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All things bright and Biprorshee

Slumdog Blah Blah....BLEH!!!!

2009-01-22T22:39:00.000-08:00

Danny Boyle and team, take a bow! Slumdog Millionaire is a fine movie indeed. While the movie releases in India today; being the internet pirate that I am, I checked out a downloaded version weeks back. Fine print, yay!
Now I really liked the movie, I did but things are getting on my nerves now. India, heard of the word "overkill"???
Though I am not surprised but I'd yet want to ask, "Why". Why the madness over the movie? You flip news channels and there are hour long segments over the flick. The movie being nominated for the Academy Awards and newspaper front pages are screaming so. The Globes are over, SM has packed in its kitty a whole load of them and we still can't stop rambling about it. Why?
Hello? SM is NOT even an Indian movie. Sure it is set in India and has a few Indians on the crew but so what? Why are we so hell bent on SM being our moment in the sun? There were other movies like Holy Smoke, The Darjeeling Limited and a few more set in India. When did we go all out to champion those flicks? Maybe they didn't have enough Indians on board. Maybe they didn't showcase our country enough. MAYBE THEY DIDN'T FARE ALL THAT WELL IN INDIA OR SWEEP AWARDS GALORE.
This whole idea of what I completely see as "stealing thunder" disgusts me.
It's just like how we hailed Sunita Williams or Bobby Jindal as Indians when they are actually far from that. I'm sure we understand how having roots in a certain country and pledging alliance to another are two different things. We are the very same who will not tire labelling Sonia Gandhi as an Italian.
Sure celebrate when A R Rahman won the Golden Globe, celebrate if he wins the Oscar, celebrate if good old Anil Kapoor brings home a few recognitions, celebrate if Irrfan Khan is appreciated but why want to go the whole hog? (FYI, Dev Patel is British!!!)
Yet another issue surrounding the movie caught my fancy...our demi God Amitabh Bachchan's perspective on SM. How he thought Danny Boyle portrayed India as a "third-world, dirty, underbelly developing nation". Of course Mr. Bachchan now does claim how he has cleared the air with Boyle and how the media interepreted "incorrectly"! I'm so sorry Mr. Bachchan, we scribes really don't know our job. Thank you for blogging!
I must admit that though initially I did agree to a certain extent but thinking over it, I felt that this is after all a story of a dude from the streets hitting it big and not about Mumbai or India. As a film maker, would I really be showing Juhu in all its grandeur when my protagonist is from Dharavi? I think not!
My good friend, Gautam "The Goatman" Kagalwala has a tongue-in-cheek remark to offer. "He's mistaken that the rest of the city lives the kind of life he lives," Goat says.
The movie has just been premiered here and the news channels are a little short of showing the entire flick if they could.
If only, if only we could live with the fact that we have enough ourselves to take credit for. If only we realise that we just might be taking the charm away off...a "fine movie". Really!

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All things bright and Biprorshee

Stereo Sound...So Typical!!!

2009-01-21T21:41:00.000-08:00

WARNING: This post gets a tad too long but like every other one, this is personal!

A couple of days back, my good friend, Anand Bhaskar sent me an e-mail. He sent me a certain movie review by one Nirpan Dhaliwal published in The Guardian, a widely read British newspaper. The movie reviewed was "Rock On" that Dhaliwal completely dismissed.
Now it isn't the fact that Dhaliwal thrashed one of my favourite movies that was disturbing. A movie critic is absolutely and should be free to express whatever and however he feels about a certain film. I totally respect that!
What was extremely upsetting was how Dhaliwal chose to attack a culture under the pretext of a film review.
One can read the review at http://www.guardian.co.uk/film/2008/sep/09/rockon .
Below are both Anand and my reactions:
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Anand's response:
Dear Sir,
I went through your review of the movie ROCK ON at http://www.guardian.co.uk/film/2008/sep/09/rockon, and I would like to express my views on the same.
I'll start by addressing this to Mr. Dhaliwal himself. APPARENTLY you have a much skewed perception of the Indian Rock Scenario or shall I say the Indian Rock Underground and so does your friend who's researching a book on contemporary Indian youth culture. I would like to comment on various sections of your review.
(1) "The film is split between their younger years when they pursued their dreams and the present, where they're presented as jaded, wistful romantics who regret having sold themselves out for a life of conventional affluence. But the truth is that they never made it because their band, Magik, sucked – big time! Sentimental, anodyne and bereft of any radical edge, their music rocks but only like a granny in a chair."

Do you have any idea, sir, that how true this is. The movie shows exactly what happens in India. People who make bands, and follow their passion for rock, ultimately face the fact that ROCK MUSIC in India DOES NOT HAVE A FUTURE! Purely because money hungry producers go for stupid, lousy and NOISY music which has a local buzz rather than a genre which hasn't been explored fully yet. Has it ever dawned to you that MAYBE the music in the film was purposely composed in a way which was strictly hard rock??? Despite rock music's low popularity in India the tracks are hits, even with the "non-rock listening" audience. Apparently you are the only one with a view that the music sucked which I didn't. Some of the best musicians in India contributed to the tracks of the film. The music sticks to the "Rock Genre" and yet caters to the taste of the “general” Indian Audience.

(2) "This movie presents everything I hate most about modern India's MTV-addicted middle-class youth. Their desperate, pretentious efforts at looking hip and modern seep through this movie like effluent from a leaking toilet: chin-beards and over-stylised haircuts, faux-grunge designer outfits, empty postures of rebellion, over-enthusiastic pseudo-laddish camaraderie and stupid nicknames (the drummer calls himself KD, short for "Killer Drummer")."

Do only Brit Born Indians or Westerners have a right to make efforts to look stylish and hip? Chin-Beards?? What the hell is wrong with that? Why does it make anyone Wannabe-ish? “Desperate, Pretentious Efforts???” Who makes you the judge of that? “Empty postures of rebellion??” Perhaps you have absolutely no idea of the Indian Rock Underground.

(3) “In the west, it's long been acknowledged that the only respectable reason for forming a band is to become famous, get out of your skull on drugs and have sex with battalions of groupies. That nihilistic hedonism is the energy that has spurred every great band–The Stones, The Sex Pistols, through to Oasis. But India's mollycoddled bourgeois hipsters, who all live with their mums, seem to do it only for the backslapping fun of it, before marrying nice girls and sinking into cushy careers.”

Oh, I think its time to feel sorry for the “Wannabe-ish Indian Rock Acts” who do not form a band only to indulge in nihilistic hedonism. It is half-baked presumptions such as yours that are responsible for the surge of wannabes in any rock scenario. “Sex, Drugs and Rock n roll” is just a phrase now, most bands concentrate more on the quality of their music, and perhaps you don’t know that. And yeah, it is true that they live with their mums and dads, but I would like to point to the fact that 99% of the youngsters who try and persuade rock as a career are FORCED by family and peers to take up cushy careers not to mention music producers who want remixes in rock albums as shown in the movie.

4. “Rock music in India isn't spawned by the rage of the poor and dispossessed, as it so often is in the West. Here, it is exclusively the pastime of English-speaking, privately-educated rich kids. Hence, there will never be anything like punk in India.”

“Rage of the poor???” Have you EVER been to India? I am sure you have, but maybe you were TOO busy to notice that the “poor” in India DO NOT SPEAK ENGLISH, neither are they brought up in conditions that make them appreciate something as refined as rock music, and yes only the rich can appreciate rock music, simply because they UNDERSTAND the LANGUAGE! I’m really not sure how or most importantly, WHY, you would expect a rickshaw wallah or a common milkman to understand rock music, or considering an impossible probability, form a rock band!

I would like to mention the fact that I find your review horrendous and offensive to the Indian audience and most importantly to those who compete in one of the most competitive education systems to find respectable professions. I was born and brought up in this country, and founded and fronted a pioneer “Indian Rock” band named Descant. And I understand the hardships that any band in India has to go through to get record deals. We took 3 years to launch one EP titled MAD AMBITION. You were born and brought up in Britain, where a Brit Rock band hits the international rock scene every year. Coldplay, The Killers are the best examples. The same, sadly isn’t easy for and India n Rock band. And I am not sure that you’ve EVER been a part of festivals such as the Great Indian Rock or I Rock or Hornbill Festival or Strawberry Fields. Your comments are purely based on a bird’s eye view of India and the Indian rock scene, something which is not expected from a reputed journalist such as yours. I suggest picking up a few copies of Rock Street Journal to understand what’s going on before writing absolutely lame reviews based purely on your prejudices about India.

Thanks and Regards
Anand Bhaskar

Anand's webpages:
http://bhaskarspace.blogspot.com/
http://bhaskarview.blogspot.com/
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My response:
Sir,
This might seem a rather "Johnny-come-lately" thingie especially since the movie in question has been long released and is already out on DVD but I could not help but endorse Anand Bhaskar's views.
More so because Nirpal Dhaliwal's efforts at reviewing "Rock On" reflects a perspective that is twisted and disgustingly dangerous.
I wouldn't really be critical about how a movie critic goes about doing his job. I respect opinions but not opinionated people. I sure will agree that the movie was not really a masterpiece but it had its own appeal. What is absolutely outlandish is how Dhaliwal chooses to spew venom at a culture and country with a movie review as a pretext.
It's mighty saddening to note Dhaliwal's short-sightedness about a country he probably has no idea about. He dares to make fleeting statements at his own peril and such views published in a publication like The Guardian would only help to build further stereotypes.
Very apparently, Dhaliwal is best said, warped in time, when he talks about the whole "sex, drugs and rock n roll" thing. So we do stay with our parents! Is that bad? What was the last band you heard, Dhaliwal? Iron Maiden still plays to sold out venues. And I don't remember them being a part of the "sex, drugs and rock n roll" phase. Jim Morrison was, so was Hendrix. They are dead!!! SEX PISTOLS SUCKS; and the less said about the Gallaghers' dumb attempt at rock music, the better!
Just to second Anand's opinion, bands whether Indian or from the West now are more into the kind of music they dish out and not getting stoned silly in some alley.
And for Dhaliwal's information, I have a "cushy career" or day jobs as is known in the civilized world that pays me well. And I have a band too that I gig around with. I stay with my mum indeed, and my dad and sister as well and I find it completely normal to do so. It would be lovely if I do marry a "nice girl". Hopefully, so has Dhaliwal. And surprise, surprise Dhaliwal, nobody finds this lifestyle abnormal, not in India, not in U.K. or anywhere else where people know me.
With this whole issue being associated with The Guardian and for the love of still being a responsible media representative and a pissed off consumer later keep me from stooping to the levels of Dhaliwal and making sweeping generalisations like he so loves.
Nirpal Singh Dhaliwal, for the love of God, it's about "reviewing a movie"; don't confuse it as a platform to attack a culture that you don't subscribe to.
Thanks and regards
Biprorshee
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Late addition: Neha's response:

Hiya

A friend of mine just forwarded me his angry reply to Mr.Nirpal Dhaliwal's review of the movie 'Rock On!!!' and I feel compelled to say that I was completely aghast at the way your movie reviewer based in New Delhi starts his review with a personal attack.

"India is currently thronging with wannabe rock acts." Is this the only country which has a section of pseudos? How can a man sitting on a chair pass a comment like that? Is it fair? Is India spawning wannabes and The Guardian will condone this man's view?

I am a journalist myself, and I tend to swing towards objectivity rather than petty stone pelting for perverse joy. My editor will not lap such a sentence "India is currently thronging with wannabe rock acts." in a hurry. There has to be a fair analysis of a movie, not a personal agenda in the making at the very start of a review! The build-up to the movie's review is an absolute shame.

However, his review is amusing purely because it barely passes off as a movie review! It is more about his anger towards some real or imaginary rock musicians in the country. Maybe Mr.Dhaliwal had successive bad nights at a pub where they didn't play good music. How else can you justify his comments? Please see the movie yourself.

Regards

Neha

Neha's blog:

http://mostlyfordistraction.blogspot.com/

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All things bright and Biprorshee

Forwarded Fury!

2009-01-15T20:59:00.000-08:00

A disturbing forwarded e-mail and a disturbed reply:
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THE E-MAIL:
VERY INTERESTING ARTICLE.....ONE MUST READ
Who owns the media in India?
Let us see the ownership of different media agencies.
NDTV: A very popular TV news media is funded by Gospels of Charity in Spain Supports Communism. Recently it has developed a soft corner towards Pakistan because Pakistan President has allowed only this channel to be aired in Pakistan . Indian CEO Prannoy Roy is co-brother of Prakash Karat, General Secretary of the Communist party of India . His wife and Brinda Karat are sisters.
India Today: which used to be the only national weekly which supported BJP is now bought by NDTV!! Since then the tone has changed drastically and turned into Hindu bashing.
CNN-IBN: This is 100 percent funded by Southern Baptist Church with its branches in all over the world with HQ in US.. The Church annually allocates $800 million for promotion of its channel. Its Indian head is Rajdeep Sardesai and his wife Sagarika Ghosh.
Times group list:Times Of India, Mid-Day, Nav-Bharth Times, Stardust, Femina, Vijay Times, Vijaya Karnataka, Times now (24- hour news channel) and many more...Times Group is owned by Bennet & Coleman. 'World Christian Council¢ does 80 percent of the Funding, and an Englishman and an Italian equally share balance 20 percent. The Italian Robertio Mindo is a close relative of Sonia Gandhi.
Star TV: It is run by an Australian, who is supported by St. Peters Pontifical Church Melbourne.
Hindustan Times: Owned by Birla Group, but hands have changed since Shobana Bhartiya took over. Presently it is working in Collaboration with Times Group.
The Hindu: English daily, started over 125 years has been recently taken over by Joshua Society, Berne , Switzerland .. N. Ram's wife is a Swiss national.
Indian Express: Divided into two groups. The Indian Express and new Indian Express (southern edition) ACTS Christian Ministries have major stake in the Indian Express and latter is still with the Indian counterpart.
The Statesman: It is controlled by Communist Party of India.
Asian Age and Deccan Chronicle: Is owned by a Saudi Arabian Company with its chief Editor M.J. Akbar.
Gujarat riots which took place in 2002 where Hindus were burnt alive, Rajdeep Sardesai and Bharkha Dutt working for NDTV at that time got around 5 Million Dollars from Saudi Arabia to cover only Muslim victims, which they did very faithfully... Not a single Hindu family was interviewed or shown on TV whose near and dear ones had been burnt alive, it is reported.
Tarun Tejpal of Tehelka.com regularly gets blank cheques from Arab countries to target BJP and Hindus only, it is said. The ownership explains the control of media in India by foreigners. The result is obvious.
PONDER OVER THIS. NOW YOU KNOW WHY EVERY ONE IS AGAINST TRUTH, HOW VERY SAD.
DON'T FORGET TO FORWARD, LET THE TRUTH BE KNOWN TO EVERYONE."
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THE REPLY:
I don't know whether I should respond to this "article" and post a "Reply to all" in the first place but I'm doing it nonetheless.
At the end of the day, this is a "forward"; whether or not it makes sense is another story. One generally tends to not take forwards seriously. A joke, a riddle, an interesting read; one usually reads it, if time is not much of a luxury even forward it further while a few straight up delete the e-mail without bothering to read.
Whether one reads the mail or not, the reach of a "forward" is undisputed and this is why I want to respond to this "article" I just read. Public opinion could probably be one of the most fickle thing and one that is most susceptible to being swayed.
This email I have received once before and I wondered why did I even bother to go through it. By now one might gather that the contents of the "article" is not what I would subscribe to but I did it to see how lower we could fall to prove our version of the "truth" being more bankable.
If you have read this piece and God forbid taken it seriously, would you mind questioning the very logic of it all? Being a media representative myself, I'm supposed to form an opinion that whatever I choose to write for my organisation is being dictated by the Pope?
Am I going to allow myself to be so daft that I'll believe that vox populi in this country is at the beck and call of a certain faction of the world population? Then I might just clean up my desk, go home and think of an alternative profession.
I AM A HINDU (Knowing well the source of this dastardly idea though I'd be more than happy to be proved wrong). Yes, I am one and extremely religious myself but I'm not scared. I'm not scared of another person on the road just because he sees a divine representative in a different light.
I refuse to believe that the Christians are out there to snatch my religious identity. I refuse to see every Muslim as someone who'd hack me to pieces if need be.
I'm secular not because my government defines itself as one, not because I know the dictionary definition of the word and not because I loved Moral Science as a subject in primary school. I'm secular because I'm secure within. And I'm sorry to say that each person who thinks he is the warrior of his own religion championing his Ram, Mohammad or Jesus is the most cowardly soul around. He is scared and that is exactly why he thinks his faith and his community is so brittle that it could be threatened by another.
It would do us a world of good if we stop and care about the message we "forward", if we see ourselves as a representative of our own conscience. Think responsibly, act responsibly. It is a brittle world with a fragile heart. It takes one small jerk to break it. This is my country, this is my planet and I'm very proud to be just a Biprorshee Das, a citizen of the world!

--
"I never really hated a one true God but the God of the people, I hated!"
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All things bright and Biprorshee

"Wah wah Ramji, Jodi kya banaayi!!!"

2008-12-15T22:02:00.000-08:00

Things haven't really been crack-a-lacka recently. I don't even have to make an effort to keep my depressed look out of office. It just stays! :P
And I'm in no mood to discuss my pain! (Dear Lord! What drama!!!)
It was one of the many bad days at work with everything going for me. Finished the scheduled work by afternoon and then cracked a presentation in the board room; one I wasn't prepared and was in no mood to do either. But the frown remained.
I guess the day would have had to end in the usual way. At Barista with me whispering, "One Cappuccino. Make that very light...VERY LIGHT and hand over extra sugar sachets". I call a friend and we end up taking those extra steps beyond the coffee shop to my next favourite place in South Mumbai--STERLING Cineplex. A movie for every bad day could work more wonders than those apples they said I should have everyday. And as in my case, a Hindi movie it has got to be. I'm unashamedly Bollywood!
I did try the latest Keanu Reeves-Jennifer Connelly flick last Friday at the same place. I think I love aliens more when they come in their gooey Martian avatar. Hunky aliens, giant robots, "spaced out" plot, disaster on your menu!
Back to my lousy Monday evening as I grinned foolishly at Priya who eventually agreed to watch Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi for the second time.
I missed the beginning once again. It is a regular routine now. I miss singing the national anthem. It's all good when Priya is ready to ignore angry stares and narrate out loud what Surinder Sahni has been up to while I was smoking outside.
So should I risk confessing that I'm an obsessed popular culture freak and say that almost inane movie I saw yesterday was fun? Oh hell! I loved Om Shanti Om as well. Why do I even care?
Yes, I really enjoyed (do note, I herein avoid using the verb "loved") yet another mushfest from the Yash Raj camp.
I hear they say that the story is dated, even corny. I'd beg to differ. I saw a certain novelty. I'm sure we all know of the male lead trying to woo the female lead who is in love with the oh-so-boring actor bound to win the next best supporting actor award. RNBDJ tells me a story where the male lead is trying to steal his love from his own self. Ahhh! The strange case of Surinder Sahni and the inevitable Raj Kapoor!!!
A loveless marriage and a distracted wife, we've seen that before. What we probably have not seen is the object of "infidelity" being the husband himself. It works for me. It works when emotions are harped on(sure the Chopras overdo it...nevertheless...) and "sex" is kept on the backburner.
Yes, there are silly moments. For the love of God, I can't understand the utterly silly song which just refused to end while merrily danced the favourite damsels of the Chopra gang.
I can't understand how shaving off a moustache, generously gelled hair and loud clothes can make a man completely unrecognisable to his wife.
I can't understand why would Shiamak Davar and his troupe decide to teach the Amritsar simpletons to shake a leg in a grand haveli.
I can't understand how every "massive heart attack" has to result in death but exactly after the unfortunate being has had enough time to spend with his kin instructing them just exactly what to do so that his soul rests in peace. If only death was that convenient!
But let's keep them aside, can't we? For once, let's accept the fact that though realism is appreciated, every "Ram Gopal Varma" makes a mistake and Ram Gopal Varma repeats them. Movies are made to entertain, right? So let's be entertained.
RNBDJ scores with the performances. Yes, Shah Rukh Khan hams as Raj but just as Taani falls in love with that very silliness, you just might too. And tell me if you don't somewhere feel for Suri as he says, "Punjab Power, lighting up your life ji, Surinder Sahni here." It could be one of Khan's most sincere performances.
Vinay Pathak is an outright winner as the delightful, bumbling, overtly emotional Bobby Khosla. We need more best friends like that.
Debutant Anoushka Sharma isn't bad as Taani either. If only her jumps from a hapless wife to twinkle-toes Taani-Partner were a bit more convincing. But I could only sum it up the way I softly murmured to Priya, "She's cute!"
The music best said is just ok though there are a couple that you could loop on your IPods, hum along and feel good. I did that. :P I just hope Salim-Sulaiman never try another "Hum hai rahi pyaar ke phir milenge chalte chalte". Please, DON'T!
Aditya Chopra sure has come a long way from DDLJ and I don't at all mean it in the positive sense. If that plays on one's mind, the movie will sure be a dissappointment.
But one would do best leaving inhibitions aside and head for some emotional tickling. It sure could seem to be a tad too long for the same but "Ye love story Rab likh raha (tha)". Why blame poor Chopra?
I liked RNBDJ. I probably might see it again. It sure brought a "smiley" end to a "dreary" day and it sure kicks serious alien ass and we're better off than the day the earth stood still! Haanji!!! :P

P.S.: The end credits are pure ownage!!!

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All things bright and Biprorshee

A mockery we are well aware of...

2008-12-01T00:41:00.000-08:00

...Following are the thoughts of Krishnadevan Vijayraghavan, news editor, NewsWire18 or good ol' "KD", as we know him, on the political sham that followed the Mumbai crisis. Thought it was a good read!
The story has been posted with due permission from KD!
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NW18 FOCUS: Mumbai Terror: Anger as politics turns grief into circus
NewsWire18, Monday, Dec 1
.
By Krishnadevan Vijayraghavan
MUMBAI - There is one emotion that is strongly uniting India - Anger!
Cynicism towards politics and its practitioners was prevalent, it's replaced now by collective anger even as politicians don't spare efforts to shoot themselves on their foot.
Lal Bahadur Shastri resigned as railway minister in 1956 owning moral responsibility for a major railway accident in Ariyalur in Tamil Nadu in which 144 persons were killed.
Juxtapose it with current Maharashtra Chief Minister Vilasrao Deshmukh's brazen statement on being "relaxed" while touring the terror ravaged Taj Hotel.
His deputy and Maharashtra Home Minister R.R. Patil surpassed his boss with the statement, "such small incidents happen in big cities".
To compound matters, the Maharashtra chief minister was accompanied by actor son Ritesh Deshmukh and Bollywood director Ram Gopal Varma on a survey of the now ravaged Taj Mahal. An act that reeks of callousness.
The anger against the political class is evident.
Never has consensus against them been so cohesive as now.
Slain Major Sandeep Unnikrishnan's father's outburst against Kerala Chief Minister V.S. Achutanandan, who came calling to offer condolences, is seen justified.
Politicians of all ilk looked for photo opportunities to make a public display of private grief, even as they could not resist taking digs at rivals.
The reported snubs meted to politicians such as Narendra Modi, Raj Thackeray, and Gopinath Munde is widespread recognition of the nature of politicians to fish in troubled waters.
Grief also unites, and sometimes brings out the base elements.
Ratan Tata's statement offering condolences too appeared insensitive.
To make a statement beginning with a reference to "...the destruction of prominent landmarks in India deserve to be universally condemned," was uncalled for.
Yes, the Taj Mahal hotel was a landmark. A place where the swish stayed, dined, and partied.
Questions are now being asked when did corporate India raise its voice against terrorism.
Did they make any statements when blasts occurred across the country or when lives were snuffed out in trains and local markets.
It is churlish to make such statements but truth is bitter. It took bombs to go off in one's backyard to understand the severity of the situation.
Voices ask why did politicians not visit the foyer of the busy
Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus, where terrorists gunned down railway passengers.
.
NO FAITH
The fact that faith in governance has taken a backseat is evident. P. Chidambaram has now been appointed union home minister in place of Shivraj Patil.
A wag commented "we will now see more police stations in Sivaganga". A reference to the former finance minister's penchant for inaugurating bank branches in his "over banked" constituency.
The oft-mentioned "resilient spirit" of Mumbai is now accepted as glorifying "life's compulsion".
Writing in the Times of India, adman and lyricist Prasoon Joshi expresses it well when he writes:
"Is baar ghawon ko dekhna hai, Gaur se thoda lambe wakt tak, Kuch faisley, Aur uskey baad hausley, Kahin toh shuruat karni hi hogi, Is baar yahi tay kiya hai."
Loosely translated meaning,... want to see the wound closer and longer, some decisions, and then some determination, need to start somewhere, is what I have decided. End
.
Edited by Jones Koshy
.
NewsWire18 Tel +91 (22) 6637-8700
Send comments to feedback@newswire18.com
.
Copyright NewsWire18 Pvt. Ltd. 2007. All rights reserved.
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All things bright and Biprorshee

If there is paradise on earth....IT IS HERE....

2008-11-29T22:32:00.000-08:00

I've had enough! I don't want to hear any more of the attacks on Mumbai. I don't want to hear how it was one of the worst terrorist assaults. I don't want to know how it is "India's 9/11" or how my hep countrymen might address it as "11/26" soon. We don't even follow the "mm/dd" way in our regular speech but what the heck, it's American! I don't want to know how heroic the NSG, MARCO, firemen or cops were. I don't want to hear survivor tales. I DON'T!!!

Maybe I'm an ostrich. I want to sink my head into the sand and believe that nothing is wrong with the world because I can't see the oncoming train speeding to mow me down. Leave me be.

But such won't be the case. I'll still have newspapers screaming, my newsroom buzzing with talks, the darned news channels with their horribly annoying stories and those text messages that have changed from "Are you ok" to "Where were you and what were you doing".

What am I to do? I choose to shove my earphones deep and play my music loud but I think I'm missing the grenade explosions and gunshots that was my "heavy metal" for two days.

Are we going to grow up? Are we going to acknowledge our own need to not be masochists? We don't live in a country like that, I'm sorry. I don't think I myself am that way.

I was asked if I was scared being on Ground Zero. No, I wasn't scared and I had many many more of the fraternity being fearless out there too. But I was angry. With every explosion and every round of bullets fired, I was filled with rage and a hope to see a mutilated, bullet torn body of a Pathani clad young boy.

Yes, I typecast. The Versace wearing, fluent English speaking terrorist is not my idea of a miscreant. I went to the extent of saying, "Burn the Mozzis (a term I've taken best care to never use and a phrase I regret now)".

I guess I am (with due "respect" to my countrymen, let me not give in to the massive temptation of generalising) a vindictive monster. Help me God! Please do, because I can't bear to see myself this way but I can't accept anyone tearing down my paradise either.

-----------------------------------

I want to salute the ones who lost their lives but I can't bear to think of them. What did they give their lives for? For us? For the city's safety? Why? Why Mr. Karkare? Why Mr. Amte? Why Mr. Salaskar? Why Major Unni?

We will not learn, don't you see? We are dyslexic! We will not learn to respect. We will mourn, yes. We will cry, yes. But we will never respect. And now I'll generalise because I don't care anymore.

I felt useless, impotent and utterly small when I received calls on Wednesday the 26^th of people asking me if I was ok. I didn’t report to work that day. Know why? Because I didn't feel like.

I felt worse on Thursday morning when I had the option to stay home but headed to work just to satisfy my journalistic ego. I was to stay put at my desk and DO NOTHING. The stock markets were closed! I had nothing to do as my city burnt in my backyard.

And when I eventually reached the two hotels, there was little revelation. The fourth estate had turned the whole thing into another TRP grabbing exercise. There were onlookers galore. Some even having the audacity of saying, "Yaar, mazaa aa gaya. Ye to sirf filmon mein dekha hai".

A certain celebrated scribe from one of the leading TV channels was seen cooling heels while the NSG head and police commissioner made statements to the press. Another news channel proudly aired a "conversation" the terrorists had with them. They declared with even more pride that the militants are from Hyderabad while at the same time other news channels aired that the Intelligence Bureau said that the terrorists had come from Karachi. Where is the credibility if this is journalism?

The administration in a press conference lauded the media for having adhered to requests of not airing live pictures and thus compromising on the troops' movements. The spokesperson clearly made an exception, "Except for one channel, I appreciate the media’s work". That "one channel" refused to compromise and continued to broadcast live pictures till the very end of the operation.. Kudos, such must be the stubbornness of a journalist! Who gives a fuck, right? The administration be damned, the operation be damned, the people who are out there 200 meters in front of your cameras so that you could report in safety be damned!!! Where is humanity and trust if I'm to believe that journalists are humans too and not capitalist robotic motherfuckers?

Yes, yes journalists are humans. I saw it first hand as I saw two cameramen from rival channels almost break into a fist fight under extreme pressure and frustration. "Hey! We need to report it too. Share the list!", "You can have it when I have reported. Mind your own fucking business", I heard! We get angry, we are humans.

Yes, we are humans. "Saale, peeche hat", said a journalist and pulled away a relative of a hostage waiting outside Trident. We get frustrated, we get angry, we misbehave, we are unapologetic, we are humans!

What do we learn? What do we show you, the one who went down to the bullets of a bunch of maniacs? What do we tell we learnt to you, the ones who were shot just because you happened to be the wrong one at the wrong place at the wrong time? What do we tell you?

Our leaders agreed that the whole crisis won’t be turned into a political tamasha and it was heartening to see a certain L K Advani actually speaking in tandem with the PM. How do you stop the new age Iron Man Modi from not checking for a moment and blaming the administration before even enquiring about the whole situation? How about deputy CM, the no-nonsense Patil doing a SRK saying "Bade bade shehron mein aise hadse hote rehte hai"?

One Mr. Gopinath Munde arrived for his evening stroll at the Taj on Friday night. While the media rushed to him for a statement, he refused and yelled to the camera guys, "Lights band karo". His minions solved the mystery to indicate how the lights would attract attention and Munde would be made target. Sure thing!!!! Run Munde, run like the wind!!

-----------------------------------

Much will be spoken of the "Spirit of Mumbai" and the city's resilience. And then some will also be said of the insensitivity that such resilience might reflect. I refuse to take sides because I agree with both arguments.

Yes, Mumbai is probably one of the most resilient cities in the country. But then think again of the number of such crises the city has been subject to and being the "financial capital" of the country, forget just the city, India can't afford Mumbai coming to a standstill.

People have to move on and sadly or not, of all things Mumbaikars may or not have learnt from the many wounds inflicted, they sure have learnt to get up in the morning, get into a local train and then get to work.

Maybe we have become insensitive…maybe we have not.

I have a habit. I tend to doze off sitting idle in anything that moves. This habit shows most in my daily 4 hour journey to work and back in the local trains. My friends have clicked pictures, cracked wise ones of/at me snoring in the train.

In my snoozy state, I tend to fall or lean over the person next to me. And if that person is not known to me (which is the case most times), I get an angry shove, an irritated stare and some heated words sometimes.

Thursday morning, I fell asleep as usual and when the train reached CST, I realised I was resting my head on the shoulder of another passenger. I woke up embarrassed and apologised. I didn't expect and will not forget what happened next. He looked at me and gave me one of the most beautiful smiles that could break on anybody’s face before saying, "It's ok!"

It's ok, Mumbai, it's ok!!

My Mumbai, my home, my most beautiful city in the whole world needs a shoulder to rest and I cannot be enough proud to say there are over 10 million shoulders that would be gladly lent.

I love you, Mumbai!

---
All things bright and Biprorshee

The Maharaja Has Left The Building

2008-11-11T06:02:00.000-08:00

It was June 1996. As the Indian summer was drawing to a close, one certain man was heating things up in Lord's, England.
Sourav Chandidas Ganguly cracked a 131 in his first test appearance for India making him the highest run scorer on debut at what is known as the "Mecca of Cricket". He followed it with a 136 in the next match at Trent Bridge becoming only the third batsman to make a century in each of his first two innings.
The Maharaja had arrived!
I, all of 13, though not in England was in the next best place--Kolkata as the City of Joy erupted in obvious delight. Having been a non-resident Bengali, it made little sense to me then but looking back now, I wish otherwise.
A visit to the Dakshineshwar temple on the banks of river Hooghly will help if one wants to testify this.
Every morning, in some of those many stalls in the temple compound, do not be surprised if you see pictures of Rabindranath Tagore, Uttam Kumar, Kishore Kumar and Dada being worshipped along with Goddess Kali.
While Kolkata found an instant pin-up hero, the country followed suit as the Prince of Kolkata marched on piling runs and making the off-side his own fiefdom.
Come 1997 and Dada showed he could roll his arms a bit too as he made Pakistan run for cover at Sahara Cup, Toronto winning four consecutive man of the match awards. As much as we love to jump the gun, we put the mantle of an "all rounder" on the southpaw. Dada never complained!
After many experiments, the Indian team had finally found a perfect left and right hand opening combination, as Sourav Ganguly and Sachin Tendulkar became one of the most lethal and enduring pair in limited over matches.
The memory is etched firm as I chewed off my fingers literally while Sourav held fort and India successfully and very dramatically chased Pakistan's 315 off 48 overs in the final of the Independence Cup at Dhaka in January 1998.
The 1999 World Cup in England is my next best memory as Ganguly with his future deputy Rahul Dravid blew to smithereens the Sri Lankan attack at Taunton, Somerset.
His knock of 183 off 158 balls remains the highest by an Indian in the tournament while his 318-run partnership with Dravid is the highest ever in the World Cup and is the second highest in all ODI cricket. Defending world champions of the time, Muttiah Muralitharan be damned!
It wasn't for nothing Dravid said, "On the off-side, first there is God then there is Sourav Ganguly!"
The following year as Indian cricket sunk to the lowest low amid the match fixing scandal and dismal performances, the nation cried out loud for a leader. While Tendulkar failed to balance batting and captaincy, Ganguly rose to the occasion.
Results though not swift were apparent. In the 2000 edition of the ICC Knockout Trophy in Kenya, India faltered only at the final hurdle to New Zealand.
Just for trivia sake, Sourav Ganguly was the highest run scorer of the tournament.
Long before Greg Chappell even thought of the "young gun" mantra for the Indian cricket team, Ganguly was twisting arms of the selectors championing the cause of young stalwarts like Yuvraj Singh, Zaheer Khan, Harbhajan Singh, Virender Sehwag, Irfan Pathan and eventually the current Indian captain, Mahendra Singh Dhoni.
The captain knew what he was doing as the youngsters he pushed did not let him down.
In 2001, with Anil Kumble injured, Sourav insisted against popular opinion for the inclusion of Harbhajan Singh in the Gavaskar-Border Trophy. The offie whose career was in question over the legality of action became the first Indian bowler to claim a hat trick in Test cricket and with 32 wickets the Man of the Series that India won.
Steve Waugh's "final frontier" remained an elusive dream and we had the Maharaja to thank for leading a team out of the dumps and into the victor's dressing room.
It was etched in stone. India no longer was a home-turf bully and here was a team that was intimidated by no one.
Be it standing up Waugh at the toss or hurling his 99 number jersey unashamedly from the Lord's balcony on a dramatic victory over England, Sourav Ganguly showed the country leading a team is about taking no prisoners.
He started the now famous "team huddle", he illustrated that matches were not just won on the field and opponents could be thrashed just in the mind, Dada brought the word "team" its true worth.
An almost glorious run at the 2003 ICC World Cup followed when once again the national team played some blistering cricket to reach the finals and to eventually be humbled by Australia.
Only then the chinks in the armour seemed too apparent to be ignored. Fallout with the national coach, dwindling batting form, questions over fielding capabilities saw the king lose more than just his crown.
As Sourav watched his team on television in his drawing room, daughter Sana asked, "Bapi, why are you not playing?" An emotional father quietly replied because "they" did not think he was "good enough".
Comebacks followed but the critics were never silenced. Successful runs were quickly overshadowed by unsuccessful ones.
The old warrior finally knew his time had come when much to the woes of Behala, Kolkata and the nation, Sourav called it a day in October 2008.
As India humiliated Australia in Nagpur and brought home the Gavaskar-Border Trophy after four years, Sourav bowed out and in what style!
In an emotional gesture that would be long remembered, captain Dhoni asked Dada to lead the team one last time. It was yesterday once more as Sourav marshalled his troops in the much familiar style.
Hearts choked as Sourav was carried on shoulders, emotions worked overtime as the crowds chanted "Dada" and there were smiles galore as the shirt came off once again and was hurled to the fans.
And while the curtains closed and Sourav said, "I see myself in Dhoni", we know that the Maharaja is gone but his legacy remains. We believe!

---

All things bright and Biprorshee

...One of the better discussions we've had!

2008-07-02T00:25:00.000-07:00

Blatantly plagiarised from http://mostlyfordistraction.blogspot.com/ (Neha's blog)!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

One of the better discussions we've had
This is true blue..something I kept for the record, since both of us lock horns on varied subjects. In hindsight, I believe I was so much engrossed in telling him what I felt rather than respond to him, the conversation becomes one-sided in many places.All the content is left as it is..with spelling errors, and places where smileys were used, are not transported to word files.

Neha Arora [1:38 PM]:am not gonna read about a movie

Neha Arora [1:38 PM]:i have never liked reading until i see it

Neha Arora [1:38 PM]:even a book

Neha Arora [1:38 PM]:i read The Class

Neha Arora [1:38 PM]:Eric Segal

Neha Arora [1:38 PM]:it's some 500 or more pages

Neha Arora [1:39 PM]:liked it

Biprorshee Das [1:39 PM]:Segal usually writes short novels and good ones

Neha Arora [1:39 PM]:this one's a mammoth read

Biprorshee Das [1:40 PM]:Segal got contorted, mutanted, brain dead and Danielle Steele was born

Neha Arora [1:41 PM]:i think three or four novels of sheldon could come out of The Class

Biprorshee Das [1:41 PM]:you like Steele?

Neha Arora [1:42 PM]:nope, no idea about the stuff she writes (i presume it's a she, since i have read it or heard about it from someone)

Neha Arora [1:42 PM]:somehting thriller

Biprorshee Das [1:42 PM]:she is the mother of soap operas

Neha Arora [1:43 PM]:sheldon's novels could be traced to segal

Neha Arora [1:43 PM]:esp The Class

Neha Arora [1:44 PM]:there is a multitude of characters

Neha Arora [1:44 PM]:spinning in and out

Biprorshee Das [1:44 PM]:yes, that is very characteristic of Sheldon. Too many characters

Neha Arora [1:44 PM]:not just that

Neha Arora [1:44 PM]:those typical heart breakign blows in between a smooth happy story

Neha Arora [1:45 PM]:like the couple is smiling,,and has a long run of stability..then a divorce..and towards the end, with separate partners, and happy again

Neha Arora [1:45 PM]:so much so

Biprorshee Das [1:45 PM]::

Biprorshee Das [1:45 PM]:

Biprorshee Das [1:45 PM]:Requiem is well analysed on Wiki. I'd suggest a read once you've watched it

Neha Arora [1:45 PM]:sheldon lives off it

Neha Arora [1:46 PM]:practically on such things

Neha Arora [1:46 PM]:fame, ambition

Neha Arora [1:46 PM]:these things are dealt with such passion n rigour

Biprorshee Das [1:46 PM]:true

Neha Arora [1:47 PM]:it's a state of unhappiness, perpetual toss n turn

Neha Arora [1:47 PM]:they feed it

Biprorshee Das [1:47 PM]:hmm

Neha Arora [1:47 PM]:am sorry, u must think am carried away

Biprorshee Das [1:48 PM]:of course not. i'm glad you have such deep perspectives.

Biprorshee Das [1:48 PM]:i usually do, about something i like or don't passionately

Neha Arora [1:48 PM]:ownership of perspective lies with the author

Neha Arora [1:49 PM]:it's what he t ried in his novel

Neha Arora [1:49 PM]:feed

Biprorshee Das [1:49 PM]:i'd beg to differ there.

Biprorshee Das [1:50 PM]:i'd say as soon as an artist has made his creation public, he has lost his ownership. he has thrown it open to his audience to accepting his creation in the way they are most comfortable. A piece of art, according to me, has no definite route to take but a skeleton key that opens every door it is used for

Neha Arora [1:52 PM]:i don t think so

Neha Arora [1:52 PM]:when i create soemthing

Neha Arora [1:52 PM]:i know why i did it

Neha Arora [1:52 PM]:i knw why i made it the way it is

Neha Arora [1:52 PM]:yes it's open to interpretation

Neha Arora [1:53 PM]:do it

Neha Arora [1:53 PM]:but it's not cognitive

Neha Arora [1:53 PM]:cognizance is mine, if i dare say, u may or may not 'relate'

Biprorshee Das [1:53 PM]:

Biprorshee Das [1:53 PM]:you're right too

Biprorshee Das [1:53 PM]:which again proves my point as well

Biprorshee Das [1:53 PM]:that there is no thing as a wrong notion in art

Neha Arora [1:54 PM]:if i wish to kill my character with the help of her husband

Neha Arora [1:54 PM]:i have made it that way

Neha Arora [1:54 PM]:u may call it page 3 representation, i may have done it thinking something else

Neha Arora [1:54 PM]:someone rich and famous

Neha Arora [1:55 PM]:ownership of perspective lies with the artist

Biprorshee Das [1:55 PM]:i'm not a big advocate of artist's copyrights because i don't think they deserve it. A piece of art shouldn't be anybody's exclusive property because the instinct of creation is natural and hence the end product should be dedicated to the natural cycle of existence as well.

Neha Arora [1:55 PM]:u may fill me up with ur reasons as to why u think the story i wrote was blhab lha blha

Biprorshee Das [1:55 PM]:

Neha Arora [1:56 PM]:but u r a READER

Neha Arora [1:56 PM]:i am the WRITER

Neha Arora [1:56 PM]:i am establishing a heirarchy

Biprorshee Das [1:56 PM]:of course. and being an audience to your creation, i'm giving it worth. and i have a say.

Neha Arora [1:56 PM]:bcz i think the natural instinct to give my thoughts a FORM

Neha Arora [1:56 PM]:A RECOGNIZABLE FORM

Neha Arora [1:57 PM]:is my talent

Biprorshee Das [1:57 PM]:i so hope Plath was alive to see how her poems are being analysed in Literature classes. Maybe she didn't even mean it that way, which I very strongly believe is the case

Neha Arora [1:58 PM]:i will never step over an artist's creation saying The Class is this or that, i may link it to sheldon, but i say sheldon copied segal,,who knows, maybe sheldon didnt'..that's the fun

Neha Arora [1:58 PM]:in fact, in the novel

Neha Arora [1:58 PM]:a famous Odyssessy

Neha Arora [1:58 PM]:Odyssesy

Neha Arora [1:59 PM]:is created by a pianist and a poet

Biprorshee Das [1:59 PM]:of course it's your talent and YOURS alone. You are more talented. You create something and that is your place in the sun. No one can dare take it away from you but talent is your reward to love and nurture further. Your creation according to me, as soon as it leaves your womb is the world's citizen

Neha Arora [1:59 PM]:the critics n audience

Neha Arora [1:59 PM]:audience thrash it

Neha Arora [1:59 PM]:the poet goes insane

Neha Arora [1:59 PM]:and teh pianist is under special insistence of his producer

Biprorshee Das [2:00 PM]:anybody saying, "a piece of art is this or that..." is being arrogant and foolish, I think. What I mean and how I would want to comment is "The way I see it...."

Neha Arora [2:00 PM]:forced to give into a young pianist's creation to "make changes"

Neha Arora [2:00 PM]:and TIME loves it

Neha Arora [2:00 PM]:they r showered with awards

Neha Arora [2:00 PM]:"because it's the public who can relate it to something else they love it

Neha Arora [2:01 PM]:they couldn't like or appreciate

Neha Arora [2:01 PM]:it in the pure form

Biprorshee Das [2:01 PM]:the pianist as a genuine creator will never give into his audience and create what his audience would unanimously love. He will continue to create and abandon his works in the world

Neha Arora [2:01 PM]:he is deemed arrogant

Neha Arora [2:01 PM]:and also

Neha Arora [2:01 PM]:the young pianist claims he is overrated as said in the classroom

Neha Arora [2:02 PM]:where he learnt music

Neha Arora [2:02 PM]: so this pianist of ours, the creater

Biprorshee Das [2:02 PM]:according to me, that is the true creator who loves his talent to create more than his product's acceptance

Neha Arora [2:02 PM]:lives under that, but eventually the awards make him feel great

Biprorshee Das [2:02 PM]:this is a very serious and one of the better discussions we've had

---

All things bright and Biprorshee

Taglines!

2008-06-17T00:37:00.000-07:00

My good friend (Rishi) Raj Verma tagged me a while back and never bothered to tell me. Anyway, now that I know and continuing where Risi left off, I must say that this is probably one of the busiest week at work and I might as well amuse myself like this:

Rules for the uninitiated:

--Switch on the 'shuffle mode' on your music player of choice.
--To answer each question, simply press the 'next' button on your player.
--And no matter what song comes up, that's your answer. No cheating!
-----------------
* If someone says 'Is this OK?', you say...
Crazy - Aerosmith
"Kyu nahi"
-----------------
* What would best describe your personality?
Spit it Out - Slipknot
"Eh?"
-----------------
* What do you like in a guy/girl?
Headless Cross - Black Sabbath
"Waah"
-----------------
* How do you feel today?
End of the World - Cold
"Incidentally, I wish!"
-----------------
* What is your life's purpose?
The Lord is My Weapon - Otep
"If only!"
-----------------
* What is your motto?
Black Metal - Cradle of Filth
"My mum would've been so happy!"
------------------
* What do your friends think of you?
Melancholy (Holy Martyr) - Iced Earth
"Why am I not surprised?"
-------------------
* What do you think of your parents?
Dream On - Aerosmith
"LMAO"
-------------------
* What do you think about very often?
My Life - 12 Stones
"So true!"
-------------------
* What is 2+2?
Disturbed - Medicis
"Confused!"
-------------------
* What do you think of your best friend?
Rainbow in the Dark - Dio
"Deep"
-------------------
* What do you think of the person you like?
Doctor Doctor - UFO
"Is that a cry for help?"
-------------------
* What is your life story?
Don't Talk to Strangers - Dio
"I need a life!"
-------------------
* What do you want to be when you grow up?
Guerilla Radio - Rage Against the Machine
"Burn some more flags!"
-------------------
* What do you think when you see the person you like?
You Got Another Thing Coming - Judas Priest
"ROFLOL"
-------------------
* What do your parents think of you?
Zombie - The Cranberries
"This I'm sure! This I like!"
--------------------
* What will you dance to at your wedding?
Picture - Kid Rock and Sheryl Crow
"Awww! Ain't that cute?The bride wouldn't like that much though"
---------------------
* What will they play at your funeral?
Thoughtless - KoRn
"...And they'll know why I died!"
----------------------
* What is your hobby/interest?
A Dead Poem - Rotting Christ
"As I said, I have no life!"
----------------------
* What is your biggest secret?
I Stand Alone - Godsmack
"The solitary reaper!"
----------------------
* What do you think of your friends?
Tears of the Dragon - Bruce Dickinson
"Not that weird, surely!"
----------------------
* What should you post this as?
Duality - Slipknot
"Really?"
-----------------------

I tag Neha!

Am I allowed to tag more? Then I also tag Pooja, Dhruti, Shreyas, Snigdha and Pushkraj! Share the joy and laughter :P

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All things bright and Biprorshee

SARKAR RAJ! Oh, dear!

2008-06-08T02:38:00.000-07:00

It all began back in June 2005. No I’m not talking about RGV’s first instalment of The Adventures of Subhash Nagre. Yea, actually that too but not entirely that!
After managing to get into one of the “top-notch” media schools of the country, me and Anand, classmates since degree-college decided to celebrate watching Sarkar at CineMax, Sion or CinePlanet as we SIES guys always knew it.
Yes, yes! When parents were still the source of the green gold, going to the movies was part of celebration plans. Now, of course, it is a necessity!
That rainy afternoon, this RGV loyalist found another piece of work to swear by!
Cut to June 6, 2008! Comes Sarkar Raj and I couldn’t wait to finish the long day at work and head to the theater again.
The guys at work refused to spend as much as they would have to at the multiplexes in South Mumbai while I couldn’t possibly stay for a late night show at a single screen out there.
So I headed to Huma, Kanjur Marg for a 10 pm show! No, I don’t find it uncool at all to go to the movies alone.
After catching up on a smoke in that ultra cool smoking lounge at Huma, I hurry into the hall. Things look confusing as the movie “begins”. I turn to the dude next to me and ask, “Has it been long?” He looks at me and makes a bored face. Further confusion!
It wasn’t long till I realised that I’m supposed to be in Screen 4 and it was Screen 3 that I was in and I was actually watching the flick post interval. I get up and seem horribly lost. People get impatient and start hooting. “Baith na, saale!” (Sit down, you sonofabitch!). Swallow me, mother earth!
I run to Screen 4 and find that just as that afternoon in 2005, I’ve missed the beginning! Oh whatever! Just bring it on now, Varma!
As the first hour rolls by, I’m pleased. The 200 bucks ain’t gonna go to waste after all but I didn’t expect it to either! The language of the eyes is at it again! I’d never forget it in the first movie and seems I’m in for a treat.
RGV is at it again! Those crazy tight close-ups take you into the psyche of the character almost to feel as powerful or vulnerable as Subhash Nagre or as in the first movie as betrayed as Vishnu Nagre! Vintage RGV!
Come interval and I’m back at the lounge puffing my Gold Flake and telling Neha over the phone, “Insane movie, boss!”
I run back to my seat and that’s when it all begins to fall apart! There is as much sign of the good work Varma does in the first half as there is the Sheppard Power Plant in the movie!
I just sit and stay amazed at how a man can lose a plot this bad and at this pace! It’s like Federer losing after having 3 match points at the end of the third set. As I would’ve asked Roger (if he knew I existed), I want to ask RGV, “Dude, how could you?”
I would not say that the man is at his wit’s end and he does not know what he is doing! I’m sure he does but he fails to offer me anything new. He goes back to his first movie, takes the same stuff, assigns it to other characters this time and goes ahead with it. The film loses pace, plot and I wish it lost me because I still had to catch that last train home!
Besides the weak screenplay and storyline, there is enough to celebrate the movie though!
As usual, the performances! This is once again, Amitabh Bachchan’s movie. No, I’m not a big fan of the Bachchans but it is him and him alone who can finish a job with this panache.
What I adored most in Sarkar was the development of a character, from powerful to powerless as in Subhash Nagre or from a mature, sober boy to a powerhouse like a Shankar Nagre.
The senior Bachchan captures the right emotion to the core once more in Sarkar Raj. Watch him ooze power even in Subhash Nagre’s vulnerability. Watch him turn vengeful in the second half. You know why he is what he is. I’m not celebrating Amitabh Bachchan, let me clarify once again but then this man could turn Midas when he wants to.
Abhishek Bachchan fails though. Ramu proudly said that the son is better than the father in the first movie. Although I didn’t excitedly subscribe to the thought but at some level, I agreed.
Subhash Nagre says in Sarkar Raj that a father’s biggest victory is his loss to his son. I think there still is time before Amitabh Bachchan could say that for real.
Shankar Nagre’s character is not allowed to grow much like Sarkar. His somber expressions are overdone. The emotions are almost static. There is little to cheer in Abhishek’s solemn performance. It’s sad because we all know he’s better than that.
His better half is bang on target though. From the ambitious chief executive officer to a helpless audience to a son doting on his father and a father hell bent on vengeance and then to the cold corporate once more. Now, that is not stagnation.
It is in the eyes. You could mute the movie and still get goose bumps as the Nagres pierce the screen with their eyes.
My favourite scene in the movie is the one a little before the interval when the camera zooms out showing a weak Subhash Nagre standing with his head hung. Not a word said but the picture indeed speaks a thousand words. I wish Sarkar Raj had learnt more of the right lessons from Sarkar.
I shouldn’t be forgetting to mention Ravi Kale (Chander). Always in the shadow but yet standing his own ground. Sayaji Shinde (Karunesh Kanga) hams but that is nothing new. Govind Namdeo is crisp as Hassan Qazi but nowhere close to Zakir Hussain or Rashid as we knew and hated him. Victor Banerjee (Mike Rajan) is wasted and a promising actor as Upendra Limaye [(Kanti Lal Vora) (think Page 3, think Traffic Signal)] could’ve done a better job.
Supriya Pathak (Pushpa Nagre) continues as the stoical wife of the protagonist. Lesser role than the first movie but she carves her own space, just as well.
Just like Varma’s other movies, there is usually this one actor who appears from nowhere, does great work and disappears later. Remember Prasad Purandare? I don’t blame you if you don’t. Good ol’ Zamir from Ab Tak Chappan!
That is Rajesh Shringarpore (Sanjay Somji) for you in Sarkar Raj. The typical fanatical Maharashtra leader of the masses. No offences. Somewhere I’m thinking of Raj Thackeray as I was even during the movie. Hee hee!
Needless to say, I missed KK Menon. Who’d forget Vishnu Nagre saying “Kya karega Sarkar?”!!! Subhash Nagre exclaims as the movie ends that he wants Chickoo back from Nagpur. How surprised would I be if KK returns in the next sepia overdose!!! Damn, I’m too filmy!
The soundtrack deserves a special mention. The songs have been aptly composed and much like RGV used just right in the movie.
Who are Bappi and Tutul? I don’t know but by God, they deliver! Tell me if Chaah Bhanwar Trishna does not creep you out. Kailash Kher hits the right notes with Jalwa! The trademark Govinda is back! I can’t help but maintain that Kher is one of the best voices in the country currently.
The movie is crisper in terms of editing, camerawork and sound design! If only the story would’ve been given some more attention!
Sarkar Raj left me wanting a lot more in spite of all that I seem to appreciate about it. But a movie eventually is the tale you tell, right? And by the way Ram Gopal Varma is going, I’m skeptical for what he has to offer ahead.
This is a personal experience of a Sarkar fan. People might still like Sarkar Raj but I couldn’t help but go to Huma Friday hoping this edition would better the first one. I shouldn’t have wanted to draw parallels, right? The canvas was large enough for Sarkar Raj to stand on its own but somewhere, no, I could not help it!
Damn, I miss the Shiva, Satya, Company, Ab Tak Chappan days! Man, Anand, you should’ve been here!

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All things bright and Biprorshee

C L O S E R......

2008-04-05T10:08:00.000-07:00

"The world is shrinking!" Now how many times have we heard that? Do we believe it? I do! Yea sure, it is shrinking and it is shrinking our hearts and souls with it!

A while back, I had wished a certain friend of mine a happy birthday. Now both of us aren't really the thickest of pals and we don't stay in touch all the time but I did remember her birthday. Yes, she was surprised but surprised more because I wished her and not because I remembered the day. It has apparently been taken for granted that reminders on personal gadgets, social networking web sites and some such have taken up the responsibility to remember for us leaving little room for surprises and the romance in it!

Just for the record, I didn't need my cell phone or the damned Orkut/Facebook/Hi5 (I'm very jobless to have my profile on almost every networking site there is! ) to remind me my friend's birthday.

It works the other way too! A certain somebody missed wishing me on my birthday. Not that it was such a big deal but in one of our conversations, it did come up. I was apologised profusely to. "Dude! It didn't appear on my Orkut homepage man!", I was told!

The point is where has the romance of being remembered on a birthday disappeared? In the much boring times when Facebook and Orkut still weren't the order of the day and you could still be cool if you didn't have an email id, I remember the thrill of going up and wishing someone on his/her birthday when he/she never expected you cared! I remember the looks on those faces when they were wished!

Times are much more convenient now. Times are much more skeptical now! Bob Dylan wrote and then sang how times are changing! I lived through the changes. I saw them. I felt them. I celebrated the changes. I woed them all!

"Daddy, get cooler", you'd tell me! Hmmmm....

I've known times when telephones in a household were a luxury and my father couldn't afford it. I remember the first time my elder brother and I watched in awe at that ugly huge black telephone while I actually mistook the dial tone for something that has gone wrong with the phone. Now I have an almost swanky mobile handset (a friend's sister once commented in derogatory Hindi how the Nokia N-series is passe) and calling anyone, anywhere, anytime is at my beck and call and as anyone would know, isn't criminally expensive either!

Then there were letters! How I'd wait eagerly to read letters from near and dear ones everytime I moved to a new city or another acquaintance did the same. How I'd spend hours replying! I still have most of my received letters saved intact.

In the late 90s I was introduced to the concept of electronic mail and letters were much rudely begun to be referred as "snail mail"! A corny email id and a few more and the graduation was over! Suddenly a weekly trip to the cyber cafe used to be the most exciting thing!

Then came the instant messaging system! Loved and most of the times "unloved" ones were no more miles apart. "Chat" appointments were made and excitedly met till the time all the "Heya" turned to "Oh Hi! You're online? Sup?"

Things got even more exciting and further boring as a few years down the line, "Scrapping", "Posting" and the likes were introduced! "Friends" from your most remote and sometimes deliberately forgotten past suddenly were "found" again. Such thrill! E-mail inboxes were now reduced to a space to just store weird "forwards" and formal/official notifications!

As and how we all got closer, we moved further apart.

My friend from class 4, Vandita Singhvi was thrilled when we found each other after almost a decade and a half. A couple of "scraps" later Vandita is just another profile on my friend list! My childhood friend and almost family, Pompi-di made it a point that she wrote at least 3 letters (and really long ones) every month and I would reply back with equal vigour! I do not remember the last time we wrote to each other. An instant message online, a text message or a call is still a far cry!

Time has always been cruel to romance but I'm proud to have been part of all these phases and I'm proud to be a hopeless romantic!

It's my good friend Dhruv Shah's (or Dudybhai as I called him back in school) birthday today. I hadn't wished him on April 5 for a while now but this time I shot off a text message and added this tiny bit to feel better...."I didn't need a web site to remind me this Dudy. Always remembered your birthday!"

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All things bright and Biprorshee

Buddy banter with the Musicman

2008-03-07T21:18:00.000-08:00

Ok! So it has been exactly 3 weeks since I hung out with Musicman Mihir Joshi at his place. Thanks to an incredible concept called "procrastination" and of course, a very busy day at work (yea, right!), this post got delayed! Of course, with the C.E.O. crying foul over unnecessary surfing in office, it meant I couldn't even "put some mutual fund stories on hold" and finish this at work. :P
Anyway, to begin with, this write up would be incomplete if I do not mention here how much I've admired Mihir over the couple of years that I've known him.
Still remember those XIC days, when Gautam came running to me telling me how this one dude has agreed to contribute to a certain class project, a 5-minute news feature that we were doing on one particular "rockstar" I was in serious awe of those days (NOT ANYMORE!). After we shot Mihir at Kalaghoda (in the most unobvious manner, of course), we fondly referred to him as the "one-take guy". That's all it took! The dude came riding on his bike right at the time he had promised, rattled off whatever he had to say to the camera, shook hands, exchanged pleasantries and off he went. Piece of cake!
I crossed paths with him again when he turned out to be the 'mysterious' EMI guy organising a special gig for Zohak at Planet M on the "A Matter of Life and Death" album launch. "I still have not received the merchandise you promised us for that gig, Mihir!"
Thereafter he helped us with a couple of more gigs. And boy, he was a great help, indeed!
What I like most about this guy besides his seriousness about music is his enterprising attitude towards everything. The man has a lot of energy! He's just a call away for just about anything a friend might need!
So here I was! All armed with just a dictaphone and draped in my favourite Iron Maiden shirt (I just can't stop showing off), I stepped into his room, which is nothing short than what I called a 'treasure chest'.
I found Mihir with a friend whom he was quick to introduce me to. "Biprorshee, this is Luke! Luke, this is Biprorshee. He is a journalist and also sings for a band (I somehow would've just preferred the latter bit). He is a big Maiden fan! (I'm synonymous with Iron Maiden, or so I wish)". It took me a while to place that "Luke" was actually "Luke Kenny". I tried hard not to let my jaw fall apart! I adore this man (Luke, I mean). Yes, yes, there are too many people I adore! Thereby breaking a ground rule of conducting a good interview - Never be in awe of your interviewee! (No! I wasn't gonna interview Luke Kenny but just for some journalistic gyaan sake!)
So while Mihir and Luke continued with their conversation sipping tea, I politely looked around! An insane music system, every possible DVD, books, guitar....Mihir, you think your parents would adopt me?
It wasn't long before Luke decided to leave and Mihir said, "Yes man? So what are we doing?...."
Switch on the dicta...start chat.....
The coversation lasted for over an hour and not for a moment did I feel that I was interviewing someone. In fact, I'd hate to call it one. A couple of days later, I tried to summarise not just the chat but those couple of hours. Here goes....
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Along came a dreamer…..

"You are never given a dream without the ability to make it come true," Mihir Joshi freely quotes Richard Bach as he speaks to me in his "treasure-chest" of a room. I smile.

I've known the self-titled "Musicman" since the days he readily helped me out with a college assignment and thereafter organised a couple of gigs for my band and have been awed by his passion each time.

As I get comfortable in his Chembur abode, he doesn't fail to amaze me again. Strewn around are innumerable CDs and DVDs, Presley smiles from one corner on the wall while a swanky music system croons "While my guitar gently weeps"!

Mihir can talk and how! To hear of how a top-notch electronics engineering student treaded the road less travelled (as Frost would've loved), became a radio jockey, promoted music, events, musicians, freelanced with publications, launched a web site, hobnobbed in the music 'corporation' and eventually gave up the plush job to be with his band - 'The Works' makes me gasp. Why? The man did all this in a matter of just four years.

"In an ideal world, I would've loved to just sing," says Mihir. Learning soon that it wasn't an ideal world after all, Mihir did the "next best thing" to share his music. In June 2004, he got the "RJ" prefix to his name at All India Radio.

And while radio continued, Musicman supported the Indian rock scene handling artist relations and event promotion with two honchos of music instruments dealers in Mumbai. Exactly a year ago, he landed himself his first corporate job as media and events manager with EMI Music.

Mihir with almost a mother's pride speaks of eMUSICPOST.com, an online music magazine he started two years ago. Dreamy eyed, he says, "When people think of music news in India, I would like them to think of eMUSICPOST.com".

Reality check! I ask maybe the dreaded question, "Money?" Quick is the retort. "AIR paid me 500 rupees for three hours, which came to about 2,000-4,000 rupees a month when I started. Money progressively increased with the jobs I took up ahead. What I make now is not an exorbitant amount but it serves the purpose," he says.

And so it does! For a teetotaller who doesn't party, Mihir says that he is self-sufficient. He is stingy, he says. "Pretty much, everything that I’ve earned has gone back to music (pointing to his chic music system). I’m happy. This is my investment. I go by my folks' words when it comes to other investments," he grins; while I shudder to think of my pending bills!

It sure must be great making a crowd swing to your tunes, hang out with the likes of Walter Trout, Mark Knopfler and Roger Waters and have a whole loada music enthusiasts looking upto him. However, one can't strike out the risks involved. Risks of failure and acceptance.

Nudge him there and you'd probably love what you hear next! "One-fourth of your life is gone in school and college. Considering an age of eighty, you’ve got three-fourths of your life remaining. One-third of that is going to be spent working. If you spend that time doing something that you don’t like, think about how much of your life you will be wasting away." All applauses due!

The man has given himself a year to find his foot as a musician. He will go back to his corporate ways otherwise. And while we pray such is not the case, Mihir saves a few wise words for the last.

"While it is great to follow your dreams, it is very important to recognise your abilities before you do it. There is no such thing as a problem without a gift for you in its hands. You see these problems because you needs those gifts."

Ozzy Osbourne sang, "I'm just a dreamer. I dream my life away!" Musicman Mihir Joshi will write a new song!

Biprorshee Das
Feb 18, 2008

Bug Mihir at mihirlovesmusic@gmail.com
Check out The Works at The Hard Rock Cafe (they practically live there!) or at http://www.theworks.in/
The Works related external sites:
The Works Videos
The Works Myspace page
The Works Orkut fan club
The Works Facebook community

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All things bright and Biprorshee

Living after Death!

2008-02-04T21:10:00.000-08:00

Bruce Dickinson's word is worth its weight in gold. We know now. Less than a year ago, on March 17, 2007, on a "hallowed" evening at Palace Grounds, Bangalore, Bruce said much to the delight of the fans, "I know many of you here have waited over 17 years for this day. I promise you wouldn't have to wait for even 17 months to see us again!"
And boy, did he keep his word or what!
India, take a bow! The grand daddy of all heavy metal bands, Iron Maiden kicked off their "Somewhere Back in Time World Tour 2008" with a magnificient show at MMRDA Grounds, Bandra Kurla Complex, Mumbai on Feb 1.
After all that I claim about being madly in love with Maiden, I had to be there at the front row. Not wanting to take any chances, I was at the venue by 11 in the morning while the gates were scheduled to open at 4 PM.
I've always maintained that concerts of this magnitude should be held in stadiums or befitting venues. What I saw at BKC was little revelation, really. We never learn. There I was amid huge banners and crazy Maidenheads at a place dug up at every imaginable point, with barely any green-cover, dusty, dirty and everything imaginable that would make you scream in anguish. The corporate hub of the city with barely any place to pick up some grub; a search for water would result in nothing short of a hike and you could easily forget small conveniences like a cigarette store and the likes. Yes, the road to heaven was never easy, they said!
The sun blazed, the fans didn't complain. They were there for a reason and seemed motivated enough. The place was jampacked much before time and deservedly so!
Sam Dunn, the anthropologist and documentary film maker, of "Metal: A Headbanger's Journey" fame showed up with his crew. The man made an attempt to tickle the funny bone of the Maidenheads already growing increasingly intolerant with little tiffs with the security and the volunteers. Dunn asked, "Is this a Maiden show?" We crack better ones, Sam! And you better feature us in your next documentary.
Rumours ran havoc. A voice from one corner said, "Adrian Smith is here!" and everyone ran where Moses directed them only to hear, not even see, what was later agreed as the band's technicians onstage.
Beat, hungry, thirsty, dirty, I was tempted to try using my PRESS card to gain backstage access but the thought of losing a job is pretty overwhelming. For the unitiated, I really doubt the financial news wire I work for would be interested in a gig review.
The gates were eventually opened a little after 4. Stampede time! I ran like my pants were on fire. No way in hell am I giving up the chance to be in the front row. I was there with friends; who were nowhere to be seen. Little I cared!
I did good. It took me a while to realise, "Whoa baby! There is still a lot of space at the barricade." Unreal!
Parikrama were setting up and by the looks of it, I doubt they were very pleased with the onstage sound. The Campus Rock Idol Winners followed Parikrama for their soundcheck.
Very honestly, after the "FTN" fiasco in Bangalore, there was little I expected from Nerverek, from Chennai. There were enough doubts in people's minds about the band. One said, "they play new-age shit man like FTN" while another said, "they are a progressive band and are good!" All doubts were doubled when the frontman played a riff on his guitar. It wasn't very pleasing on the ear. I'm not a guitarist and chose to keep my trap shut but another dude from the crowd voiced my sentiment, "Change your fucking patch!"
The show began (as the overkilled cliche goes) fashionably late. I had to survive just Nerverek and Lauren Harris, I said to myself! (I'm an obsessed Parikrama fan!)
Nerverek surprised quite a many, including me with their set. The patch was the same but the 4-piece band was all said and done...TIGHT! No, it wasn't a new-age band and it was far from the March nightmare called "Fuck The Name". Seems, the CRI guys learnt a decent lesson this time around. Nerverek's set was ruled with their original compositions, which was very heartening and a cover or two, I couldn't recognise. The songs were fairly decent. The last song, an OC called "Marijuana" deserves special mention. I have always respected frontmen who handle the guitars as well. This guy called Arjun, I think was pretty neat with his guitarwork, rhythm and leads. "Marijuana" also saw a "blink-and-miss" take on "Wasting Love", which got a huge roar from the crowd.
Nerverek, if I may dare say have their heart in the right place. They could do well with some better stage presence (Mr. Bassy, I'm talking to you! Awesome bass solos but man, remember Jack Black in 'School of Rock'? "Loosey-goosey baby, loosey-goosey") The keyboardist seems almost wasted. Get your act up docs, you people are good enough to hit the big league.
Following Nerverek was another nervewreck, or so I thought! Lauren Harris rushed onto the stage with her band. Oh boy! Not again! Harris seemed right out of Ronnie James Dio's nightmare flashing the Devil's Horn at the drop of a hat and more. I always maintained that the guitarist seemed a bad rip off of Zakk Wylde (simply by his looks and stance). I'd refrain from commenting on Harris' performance because I'm way too negatively biased about her. The crowd enjoyed though. I doubt whether they really liked her songs or was it the plain eye-candy bit. I couldn't help but notice old man Steve Harris standing in one corner watching the performance. Daddy Dearest!
What was a bigger pleasant surprise was the Mumbai crowd. Generally termed unforgiving and unruly, this one had to be seen to be believed. Unlike Bangalore, there were barely anyone jeering the opening acts, nor was there a lewd remark thrown at Lauren Harris. On the contrary, both Nerverek and Harris were cheered enough. Take a leaf out of this book, Bangalore!
Parikrama was next and I couldn't wait. Neither could the crowd because they knew they were minutes away from what they had come to see. Frontman Nitin Malik didn't need to be a rocket scientist to understand that. He roared, "Let us rush through our set and we are coming right down there with you guys to enjoy what we've come here for!"
Kudos to the band who've hit it big time and deservedly so. It was their fourth appearance with Iron Maiden. Sweet dreams are made of these! There was a new face (a young Srijan Mahajan) behind the drums. All familiar fun man Dilip Ramachandran has moved on but Subir Malik, band manager and keyboardist says, "He still jams with us on weekends."
They literally had to rush through their set as their onstage time was cut. Subir later confirmed, "They (DNA) cut our time from 45 minutes to 30 minutes". Such a shame because as usual of Parikrama, they held their own onstage. "But It Rained" had the crowd singing along every word and an overwhelmed Nitin couldn't help but yell into the mike, "Thank you, Mumbai!"
A shorter set deprived fans like me of one of the crowd favourites, "Open Skies" and a new track "Life is Certain" but I, for once, enjoyed whatever bit I got of my favourite Indian band. Sonam Sherpa was his usual tight self on leads ably supported by Saurabh Choudhary on rhythms. Chintan Kalra didn't fail to entertain with his bass antics. Imran on violins did his usual special appearances and boy, he was incredible, to say the least!
The crowd got its regular dose of the usual favourites like "Rhythm & Blues" and 'The Lord of the Rings' inspired "Tears of the Wizard". Did anyone miss Saif Ali Khan and his tattoo? No offences!
Soon we all knew the moment had arrived. The lights were switched off and busy feet onstage were quickly finishing the set up. I, for once, couldn't wait to see the much talked of Powerslave inspired stage and the rest of the 30,000 (The show did sell out! What did you expect?) was no different!
A restless crowd saw a tiny incident with the middle section of the front row getting into a brawl with the security. A voice boomed into the microphone. Cheers followed only to hear a request, "Please move back!"
Sam Dunn continued capturing footage and interacting with the front rowers. Call me a woman or a spaced out fan of his work, I couldn't help pulling my cell phone out and squeaking, "Sam! Smile!" Sam obliged further embarrassing me!
In front of the barricades were the press guys with the "Access All Area" tag dangling! Lucky dogs! Hey, I'm a journalist too, remember? Damn the stock market! There were a few familiar faces who exchanged pleasantries but I couldn't help but think that all they had in their minds was, "Na-na-na-na-na...Me here, you there!" Aaaarrrggghhh!
And suddenly, Winston Churchill's voice boomed and we listened in disbelief! "...we will never surrender!" and amid deafening roars jumped onto the stage with the familiar opening riffs of "Aces High" the old men of New Wave of British Heavy Metal. Did I say this before...UNREAL????
Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy! It is really happening, isn't it? In an absolute daze, I didn't know whether to head bang, simply stare, pull my phone out to create bootlegs or to throw caution to the winds and start sobbing. I decided to do it all! I was the blessed one and so were each one lucky enough to be there!
One familiar number followed the other and we couldn't care less that our national cricket team had just been plummetted down under that very day! There were "Two Minutes to Midnight", "Revelations", "Run to the Hills", the all familiar "The Trooper", "Powerslave". Backdrops changed, Bruce Dickinson went through a few costume changes while we simply were awestruck and pinching and telling ourselves, "Is this really it and NOT SOME CRAZY DREAM?"
The security dude who by then had got pretty friendly with a few of us came up and said, "John Ibrahim aayela hai!". Indeed there was the actor standing right in front of us but no girl went weak in their knees and no dude stared in envy. I was curious though and found him all smiles and singing along to "Run to the Hills". I smiled to myself!
"Fear of the Dark" was a surprise because I thought they were only going to play stuff till "The Number of the Beast" but I guess, it is too important a track to be missed. We hummed ala Rio, Dormunt and the likes and we found that we are still a long way to go to beat those guys. :-)
They played the legendary "Rime of the Ancient Mariner" while I received a text message from a buddy that said, "Dude, we are actually watching Rime being played live! Can you fucking believe it?". Yeah dude, I sure couldn't! There was "Powerslave" with Bruce donning the Egyptian mask while we chanted the familiar lines..."Tell me why, do I have to be a powerslave?"

Songs like "Iron Maiden", "Heaven Can Wait", "Can I Play With Madness" (not necessarily in that order) followed; each of which making me thank God I'm alive!
"Iron Maiden" saw Eddie in his "Somewhere in Time" avatar take stage and the manic crowd went a step further in insanity. Janick Gers fooling around with Eddie and his stunts with the guitar were a sight to behold.
Bruce was his usual self, running all over the place, climbing pillars, talking to us, reaching out in his own special way to every single person in the audience. He made us dance to his tunes like the rats and the pied piper. He made us believe that Bangalore was great but we were better. He made us believe that Iron Maiden will return again!
Herein, I'm reminded of a certain Brian Fair from the band Shadows Fall who said, "Anytime I've ever felt tired, I thought, 'Man, you can't be tired. Bruce (Dickinson) is up there running around for an hour and a half, covering 30 miles a night on the stage — I have nothing to complain about.' " Words never spoken any more true!
The band took the usual break and came back to the our added delight and Bruce, being his humourous self introduced the band. He pointed to a couple of blokes in the crowd and asked, "What's your name?". My mate, Gunjan swears it was him Bruce spoke to and I'm pretty sure Gunjan would have sleepless nights thinking about it for some time.
They then broke into what was my personal highlight of the evening. They played "Moonchild", a song I haven't heard them doing live in ages and so confessed Bruce as well. It was a flawless exhibition as was every other number. I looped the song on my MP3 player and have been reliving that magic eversince.
And then was heard "The Clairvoyant" and they ended the set with the inevitable and most fitting "Hallowed Be Thy Name" and I couldn't hold my cell phone steady anymore. There was the legendary, "Scream for me, Mumbai!" and that was all he had to say for me to totally break down. Yeah! Call me a wimp but it was way too fantastic!
The set ended and so did an almost two-hour long dream. We were tired sure but could we have gone on for two more hours? You betcha!
Songs like "Alexander the Great", "Flight of Icarus" and "Caught Somewhere in Time" were sure missed but I guess we shall wait for another dream run for that.
Cut to reality, there were a few blatant things that stung. It was not the usual chemistry between the bandmates onstage. Adrian Smith looked visibly upset off and on. It was a weird abrupt way the gig came to an end. There was a good 15 minutes still left for the 10PM deadline, much to delight of the local cops. There was no signature bow that the band took, no picture with the crowd in the background while Bruce seemed in an obvious hurry to get off stage while the rest had already left. Nicko McBrain was sweet enough to stay back the longest hurling drumsticks by the dozen to the crowd.
Subir Malik to the rescue who solved the mystery more or less a couple of days later. Malik said, "The sound was very bad. We thought it was bad for us, but even Maiden's sound was fucked. Really strange, man."
The guys who weren't lucky enough to be amongst the front rowers confirmed what Subir said later. "We could barely hear stuff man! It was real sad", they said.
DNA Networks have to pull up their socks in more ways than one. The onstage sound was far from being flattering in Bangalore; very evidently the lesson wasn't learnt well enough.
Another thing that was a real eye sore was the management of the event. I already said about the inconveniences the venue was plagued with. Add to that, there were not enough public transport available. I myself had to walk all the way from Kurla to BKC in the morning. There was drinking water and the sodas available but the price at which they were being sold made me sigh!
One of the biggest fuck up to me was the way there was just one EXIT for 30,000 people. It was an absolute bottleneck. This was the very thing that happened in Bangalore as well where the turnout was even higher. One can imagine what happens when so many people get restless. Dust everywhere, tired bodies ready to drop; have mercy DNA!
Somehow I managed to get out but without my mates whom I couldn't get through thanks to the jammed cell networks. I quickly dashed to the merchandise store half hoping to find everything sold out. Didn't I say I was blessed? I finally got myself an OFFICIAL IRON MAIDEN shirt and proudly showed off the '2005 Maiden Holdings' to anyone who cared to see!
After all the hurt, it was a day to be cherished. Tedious? Yes! Inconvenient? Oh yes but something to hold on to? Oh fuck, yes!!!!
Indeed, we will "Remember Tomorrow" and will be 'caught in this time forever'. There could be nothing indeed, nothing like 'Living After Death'!!!! UP THE IRONS!

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All things bright and Biprorshee

The Idle Fellows Return!

2007-09-13T03:55:00.000-07:00

Google Talk Trancript
Date: Sep 13
Time: Dangerous ones
Animal Resources involved: Same as before...only worse this time!

me: kyu be shaahne, gym kab se join kiya?
Rishi: huh?
me: abe gym kab se join kiya?
Rishi: wat u talkin bout?
me: about your joining a gymnasium...when did you begin?
Rishi: never did
why do u ask?
me: oh ok...
Rishi: pagla gaya hai kya?
me: just to get an answer...i got it...that you never joined the gym
people can be so skeptical
Rishi: huh???
me: i just asked a simple question that when did you join the gym and you answered "never"...bas ho gaya...simple question...simple jawaab...iske liye itna drama karne ki kya zaroorat hai
me: oh god...your creations don't trust each other now...as if everything needs to have an ulterior motive...what have you done to the world...what has your favourite creation come to...i sob in dismay...i'm so disappointed...
Rishi: kool
me: and they even say "k"ool....such callousness
Rishi: proof that god can screw up too, by creating fuck-ups!
me: no noi can't take it anymore
i'm shaken from within
Rishi: yeah?
wat about?
me: about mankind
man-not-kind
Rishi: great wrestler he was!
mankind
many names he had one of them being cactus-jack!
me: oh dear lord...forgive this mere mortal
Rishi: that certainly i am
this mere mortal is thankful for being so
for immortality brings with it its own perils
me: you should begin to hunt for the inner and deeper reasons for your existence...there are many questions that await your quest...do not limit yourself...do not bind yourself by materialism...give up your belongings and follow your heart...your soul will take you to be one with the Lord
Rishi: my existence doesnt matter
not to me and not to many
therefore the decision to disregard its reasons
me: oh you ignorant fool...you don't know the fathom meaning of life...every life on earth is loved by God...give yourself up to him..he shall take thee
Rishi: sooner the better
me: you're too superficial a human
lift your spirits
Rishi: guilty as charged
me: give up your earthly belongings...leave them all for this nice soul called Biprorshee.
Rishi: sure will
will the lord biprorshee then feed me and provide for me?
me: no he is too insignificant a soul...the greater power shall provide for thee\
Rishi: we shall see
me: thou have the audacity to make silly rhymes...behold the wrath of the Lord
Rishi: i've beheld it for years now son!
teach me not wat wrath is
me: you are invoking immense fury...beware...thou shalt be flung into the lake of fire
Rishi: i'd love to be
me: thou art an unbelievable asshole!
Rishi: thou aren't the first to say that
me: i shalt refrain from speaking to you...
Rishi: ")
i win!
me: you're so wrong again, you low (neech) man...it is I Mac
and Microsoft Windows!
Rishi: hahahha
thou lag behind the times!
thou knows not when the forces joined
thou hast lost again!
me: fuck off! you are the one who uses Zenith Computers!!!
Rishi: certainly

We return and with a vengeance. And I have not a single story on the wire today. Yes, yes, yes, I'm still working at the same place. Jerome would've been proud enough to write my biography had he lived!!! Oh Lord! Thou had to create such random lowlives!!!!

Idle thoughts of Idle Fellows (due respect to Jerome!)

2007-02-05T23:33:00.000-08:00

Google Talk Transcript
Date: Feb 6, 2007
Time: a rather bored one evidently!
Animal Resources Involved: Rishi = Rishiraj Verma (copywriter at some obscure ad agency); me = Biprorshee Das (obscure mutual fund correspondent at NewsWire18)

12:32 PM Rishi: how do u say thx a lot!?

12:33 PM me: very simply...t-h-a-n-k-s..pause for a millisecond...-a-...pause for another millisecond...then l-o-t!!! got it?

Rishi: shit
sorry
wasnt for u
trying to learn tamil

me: nevermind
i hope you learnt now how to say "thanks a lot"
we all should know how to be grateful rishi

12:35 PM Rishi: hmm yes sir i agree

me: it's a splendid feeling
we're God's little creation in his own image
we should never forget that

Rishi: i understand

me: we must always be thankful

Rishi: of course

me: and say "thanks a lot"!!!

Rishi: we should! thanks a lot you too biprorshee

me: you're a good boy rishiraj i shall always be grateful to God for making you

12:36 PM me: and i shall say "thanks a lot"

Rishi: i shall be grateful to my parents for making me i shall too

me: good boy!

This is what Biprorshee does when he has two huge stories pending for the desk! Maybe he should thank his good friend Mayura Mantri, take her suggestion and quit journalism to devote his grateful life researching "Innovative ways to avoid getting fired!" He is a grateful boy, this Biprorshee!

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All things bright and Biprorshee

The King's new clothes!

2007-01-22T20:10:00.000-08:00

So Mr. Khan steps into Mr. Bacchhan's shoes and the result was there for everybody to see. Now I just chanced to catch "Kaun Banega Crorepati"'s inaugural episode in its third season. I stayed away from work with a bad case of gastritis. For the unenlightened, the distance between my workplace and my residence is worthy of being covered by spaceships...hence catching prime time television is a luxury I cannot afford.
Anyway, watching KBC in its new avatar...was I pleased???? You bet I was!
Now, I really don't go all gaa-gaa over the "King Khan", mind you but there indeed was the curiousity like everybody else to see whether SRK manages a disaster or as his fans would've expected, finish the job with panache. I had no expectations...good or bad.
The 4-minute intro music video was a total let down. It dawned that the mother of Indian reality show (really?) finally gives in to commercialism and loses its sophistication. Did I ever see Mr. Bacchhan jump around before he donned the anchor's role? There you go, the inevitable comparison and I swear, I tried hard to stay away from the same.
The show began and there was the same ol'-all recognisable Shahrukh Khan dimpled ear-to-ear grin. The man won the war before it began. He's a charmer...he's the Devil himself! And then poured out the words. Suddenly, "Who Mr. Bacchhan?"!!!!
The roll over contestant tried hard not to be intimidated by the host's presence while the host tried hard to seem one amongst the lesser mortals for an hour. Both failed!
The words have changed. By now you all know! Nevertheless, the all favourite "Computer-Jee" has become "Mr. Computer" or "Compaq-da" or "Compaq" followed by the equivalent of big brother in any language belonging to the "hot-seater", answers are "freezed" now and not "locked", "Devion aur Sajjano" is "Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls".
"Compaq-da" killed me though. Which computer does Mr. Khan endorse again?????
The man's command over languages besides the same over everything else is enviable. And his pronunciation (atleast I'd vouch for Bangla) is almost impeccable. One more home run!
The fact that the man is larger-than-life is not unknown to himself either. Didn't I always think of him as a megalomaniac? I did. His several attempts at hiding this "virtue" was not successful. There were the inevitable punned one-liners. What about that question to the Rama dude from Andhra Pradesh?
"In a game of carrom, what is the red disk called?" The options were King, Queen, Bishop and I forgot the fourth one. When the contestant appeared a bit dazed, SRK while he suggested him to use his "lifelines", delivered this "blink-and-you-miss" liner....."Ab King to nahi ho sakta because King sirf main hoo!" Again, what?
Mr. Khan has brought in one more slight change, which totally bowled me over. "KBC contestants do not quit. Aapko jab bhi ye game chhod ke jaana ho, aap mujhe kahe, Shahrukh main tumhe gale lagaana chahta hoo". Munnabhai anyone? And didn't that sweetheart of a movie thank Shahrukh Khan in the end credits for his "valuable inputs to the script". Hug-o-mania!
In all seriousness Shahrukh Khan has brought a sense of liveliness and many smiles to the show that to me was all about the much touted "General Knowledge", big money, big TRPs and Amitabh Bacchhan; with his tinge of humour (almost sad most of the times) and his attempts at making the people around him feel at home.
As he promises, the guy is giving the contestants more than money and cherishable moments. He is planting a genuine smile in their hearts.
And what has he done for this small-time blogger and his family? As if the spell doesn't quite suggest itself, Mr. Khan has given me a reason to catch the 7-30 fast out of Mumbai CST. The family will sure be happy to see me home much much before way beyond midnight.
"Woh Hain Na" - the man for all seasons, the dude with all the solutions!
Whoa! I seem smitten but did I mention that charming smile? Did I mention he's the Devil? Maybe I should unjoin the "I hate Shahrukh Khan" community that I am a member of on Orkut!
And the man offers to give massages on the show too. Says he's a professional masseur who acts part-time. Talk about being multi-talented!
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All things bright and Biprorshee

Dumbwits

2006-10-04T03:18:00.000-07:00

I was just going through today's set of papers (not something I do regularly) and this particular story in today's Hindustan Times called for my immediate attention (so much for cliched opening lines). Apparently the Christians have been highly offended by Slayer's latest album Christ Illusion's album art.
Yes, I know, there has been enough spoken of freedom of expression but that is not what I particularly want to point out here.
I have to agree that an amputed Christ with a patch eye really does not make for very good viewing amongst the believers.
Apparently, the artwork called for some severe criticism in the US and had to be redone for the record to be on the shelves but somehow the album with the original artwork was being sold in India.
Without any offence to religion and being very religious myself and secularly so, I think the album art is cool and so is the name of the album.
I do not for once understand this whole "religious sentiments being hurt" business. Are sentiments really that fragile? I see such trivial excuses as mere levers that can be pushed the deepest and pulled the hardest.
There have also been protests over the "Skeleton Christ" track in the album. I've heard the song. I've read the lyrics. I've liked the song. Is it blasphemic? Maybe but so brittle is your faith in the Lord Jesus Christ that one line "I'll take the devil anyday. Hail Satan" seems to threaten your unshakeable faith. So much so, the track "Jihad" has managed to raise eyebrows on the grounds that it shall hurt Islam sentiments. Indeed, now get the other players into this as well.
God help me, I'm not an atheist. I believe and love God with all I have and that's why these petty happenings first make me laugh and then want to puke all over. Slayer's last album "God Hates Us All" was a killer. And I myself wear a shirt with the album print. It shows a nailed Bible in a pool of blood. My faith still remains.
I love God enough to not be threatened by the Devil.
Please get some perspective. Voice against what really needs attention. Protest against your short-sighted perspectives. Protest against your fear of change. Protest against your mundane lives.

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All things bright and Biprorshee