It all started some time ago when my
then-girlfriend-now-wife refused to watch Rowdy
Rathore with me. “Why would anybody watch an Akshay Kumar movie,” she
asked. I protested meekly. “He isn’t that bad,” I said (Rowdy Rathore is a TERRIBLE movie, just for the record). I don’t
quite mind Mr. Kumar. And no, I won’t refer to him as ‘Khiladi’ Kumar. I am
embarrassed to do so and he must be too. 
The evening tastes different.
Look, it's dark. Look, it's pale.
Look, it's strangely soothing.
Ghosts curl together in the stomach
and laugh
Oh! The din. The riot.
A hundred horses gallop.
You are still there, distant.
Still sweet.
So annoying.
Tickle.
A big lump in the throat.
You sing a happy, haunting song.
---
All things stale and Biprorshee
Walk.
Alone.
Wind.
Not a sound
but Floyd's 'Brain Damage'.
Smoke.
"The lunatic is on the grass...
...the lunatic is in my head."
---
All things mad and Biprorshee
A song that will break all hearts.
A song that will well up eyes.
A song that will only hurt.
A song they will not ignore.
A poem that will beg for pity.
A poem that will pinch.
And everyone shall know
a poem that will scream.
For me, will you write?
---
Will nothing help Biprorshee?
We could walk endlessly.
Holding hands, laughing.
We could walk endlessly.
Just you, just me.
Just you, just me.
So much joy, it's childlike.
Just you, just me.
So much of us, it's never enough.
So much of us, it's never enough.
I talk, you listen.
So much of us, it's never enough.
You share, I collect.
You share, I collect.
Little shells, filled with tears.
You share, I collect.
Little hearts, big hopes.
Little hearts, big hopes.
Little steps, big strides.
Little hearts, big hopes.
Home shall never come.
Home shall never come.
Feet shall never tire.
Home shall never come.
We could walk endlessly,
you know?
---
All things without you or Biprorshee
Stranger, you shouldn't be here.
You don't belong.
Your sorrows are none of our business.
This is a happy town.
Stranger, you don't look too well.
We see through you.
You are too easy to read
and this is a happy town.
Stranger, we fear you.
You shall corrupt.
A touch and we will wither.
This is a happy town.
Stranger, don't even talk.
We are deaf to all but laughter.
We are blind to all but love.
Such a very happy town.
Stranger, we won't think twice and let you go.
There is no net to catch you. Be warned!
No trapeze acts here.
All clowns in a happy town.
Stranger, see our children?
They are all rats.
Your music seduces.
Get out of this happy town.
We thank you for your time, stranger.
We will never meet again.
And till the time you find your heaven,
best wishes with love from the happy town.
---
All rats wander like Biprorshee
This little blanket saves me from the demons.
It's dark, very empty around.
It's dark, very empty within.
You could hear a pin drop.
But you wouldn't.
There isn't one to drop.
It's dark, very scary everywhere.
This little blanket saves me from the demons.
It's unbearably warm.
The sweat flows down
the forehead
carefully treading over the nose.
Into a mouth that is not welcoming.
The river has picked up all the dirt
along the way
to reach a gutter.
I hate the taste.
What else did I expect?
I am not thirsty and I drink
so much sin
I am not hungry and I eat.
Poison.
I am scared but I remember.
This little blanket saves me from the demons.
A silent word of thanks.
To whom?
To You?
Yes!
Thanks for the eyes
that see black.
Thanks for your eyes
that show black.
But the gratitude is sincere.
The prayer is childlike. Earnest.
Under a pillow.
With assurance, I unrest.
With fear, I tremble.
But this little blanket saves me from the demons.
Oyster.
Snail.
Shut.
Tight.
Black.
Protection.
I see nothing.
I hear all.
I hear all say nothing.
I hear fear.
I hear laughter.
Evil. Teasing.
Creeping up to sleep
next to me.
To tickle, to poke, to grab, to rape.
Knock knock. Who is there?
Not a joke for sure.
It's tucked deep.
It cannot be pulled.
Someone still tries. Someone walks by. Coughs.
But this little blanket saves me from the demons.
Will they still try to strangle me?
---
All things scare Biprorshee
She asks how has life changed since I met her
But I just started living.
She asks how has life changed since I met her
I kiss her eyes and tell her, "The lips can wait".
She asks how has life changed since I met her
I raise my mug. God turned the rum to tea. Lo! Miracle.
She asks how has life changed since I met her
I laugh. Some more. And tell her, "Every time, it's for you (not at you)".
She asks how has life changed since I met her
I write. Some words. She reads. And knows the muse isn't pain.
She asks how has life changed since I met her
I actually see what's the romance about beaches now, I say.
She asks how has life changed since I met her
I hold her hand. I hold on to her hand. She lets me. This is how.
---
All things loved and Biprorshee
“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!
---
All roads fiery as Biprorshee
(Picture Courtesy: Metallica.com http://www.metallica.com/photo-gallery/oct-30-2011-bangalore-gallery.asp)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!
---
All things Metalllica. Period!
