We the Deserving….

The honourable Congress MP from Goa, Shantaram Naik, made a statement in Parliament to the effect that women who socialise with strangers beyond midnight invite rape. His remark was later expunged – I love this word – from the records of the House. It’s as if those words were never said. Would that it were that easy for the victims to expunge the memories of rape…..as if it never happened. And why blame this man, when the Chief Minister of Delhi, herself a woman, believes that a woman travelling alone at night invites trouble? And, given her liberal parole-granting record, we can safely guess that she also believes a woman working in a bar after midnight is asking to be shot.

So, I thought to myself, let me get this argument straight. What do we have here? What does this argument, so often touted by our law-makers, imply? Well, here’s what Naik actually wished to say but couldn’t fully articulate (he’s a politician after all!): a prostitute deserves being coerced into a sexual act by cops. A woman out at night with strangers deserves to be raped. A woman out at night with friends deserves to be raped. A student travelling on a rickshaw with her brother deserves to be raped. A female tourist in India deserves to be raped. A girl spending time with her boyfriend deserves to be raped. A two-and-a-half year old child deserves to be raped. A mentally-challenged twelve-year old girl deserves to be raped.

Well, I know I am a little slow, but I finally got it. What Naik and his ilk actually meant is this: if you have a vagina, you deserve to be raped.

I think that’s a very clever argument. And we are extremely fortunate to have such people decide our destinies. It’s just a matter of time before these bright sparks figure out that this line of thinking – ‘blame the victim’ – can be extended to many other sticky situations. Say I die in a terror attack. Clearly it was my fault. Why was I out shopping, or eating out, or even travelling in a train? I should have stayed home. I deserved it. And if I die because the overloaded boat I’m on capsizes? You guessed it. My fault again. Who told me to take a holiday? I should have stayed home. I deserved it.

Ok, I get it. I should be home. But what if I die at home? Say terrorists attack my building and shoot me dead. Or, if I wish for a relatively more prosaic ending, my unauthorised, bribe-enabled and therefore sub-standard building collapses. What then?

Why, then we have the failsafe! That’s right, you suckers, we’ll expunge that awkward question!

See? It’s as if it was never asked.

Expunged. I just love that word.

 

Review: Rocket Singh

I have been a fan of Shimit’s since Ab Tak Chappan, and while disappointed by Chak De, still went into this film hoping he’d redeem himself.

The story is fairly simplistic – and I shall get to its flaws later – but writer Jaideep Sahni sticks to what he knows best – the realistic middle-class Punjabi milieu. Note the phrase ‘realistic middle class’. As in Khosla Ka Ghosla. This explains why his worst efforts have been set in Sarsson-da-Khet-land, populated by Chopra-esque Punjabis. Fortunately for us, this film has none of that.

The characterisation is good, and the casting is perfect. The porn-addict Giri is brilliantly cast, as is Nitin Rathore. Gauhar Khan slips into her role of Koena Shaikh with ease. Boss Puri is good. Even the other salespersons are outstanding, right down to their attire. Ranbir is superb. The only sore thumb is the Padamsee girl, but if you can accept her as a flaky SoBo (sorry, SoMu) type, she passes muster. So what if she’s a Dadar girl in the film.

It is a story that most of us will identify with – we’ve all had to sell something at some point in our lives, and we’ve all had to deal with pesky colleagues and a prick of a boss. While Shimit initially captured the office politics perfectly, the politics quickly changed into more of middle-school-classroom-type bullying. And you kind of wonder at HP’s (as Ranbir’s character is known) restraint, till you realise that the full effects of any incident hit him with a lag. And is that why the otherwise calm HP gives in to some late and uncharacteristic ranting? You feel for HP, but you wish that Shimit had dared to attach some questionable morals to the character. In my opinion, that would have raised the film to another level. He’s tried a middle-of-the-road approach that works in parts but leaves you wondering about what might have been. But – and this is saying a lot – even when you know how this is going to end, you still wait for it to happen, to reach its very predictable conclusion, because the character works for you. And I also felt it was paisa-vasool just because of the great dialogue and witty lines.

The film plays out at more or less a low level and we thankfully do not have the melodrama that most Indian directors love to resort to. And no songs!

And just in case you were wondering, of course it has its flaws. The whole romance bit, even though its tone was low and even, seemed grafted on as an after-thought – and Padamsee’s lacklustre performance only makes it worse.

Let’s look at the glitches in the story. There’s the bit where HP refuses to bribe a Purchase Manager and even puts in a written complaint against him. For some unfathomable reason, he’s not sacked, but let off with a tongue lashing, and is even given time to complete his training! Convenient, and, in a film that relies simply on the power of a realistic script, it struck a very jarring note. As did the part in the second half where Boss Puri discovers the secret of the phone numbers. So far so good. But why would he keep calling the numbers when it is clear – especially to him – that the office is empty? The reveal was such that it would be clear even to a moron that the receptionist was involved. Why the drama? Why the pathetically amateurish attempt at suspense and entrapment? He could have simply called in the morning. More effective, greater probability of success and, as far as the audience is concerned, more plausible.

Then, the ‘evil’ Boss finally gets his comeuppance, but his resultant change of heart is so mysterious, it comes so suddenly and silently that you go “What the fuck made that happen? What epiphany, what catharsis?” And the explanation seems contrived, inadequate. But I suppose God and Indian film-makers work in mysterious ways.

Having said that, I would still recommend you watch Rocket Singh to see a different kind of Hindi film. Refreshingly low-key. Free of hyperbole, item-numbers, mustard fields and Manhattan. It’s quite likely that you will watch the film in a near-empty theatre, and that will make you truly understand just how painful the tastes (Love Aaj Kal, De Dana Dan) of the Indian movie audience are. I am one of the harshest critics of the Yash Raj School of film-making, but I wish we had given this film a chance. And that’s the unfortunate lesson the fate of this film teaches all of us, including Shimit – in real life, nice guys do finish last.

But for a couple of hours in that dark and depressingly empty theatre, this film made me wish that weren’t true.

*

Poonam, Vee, Vimal and the rest have come up with the Avant Garde Bloggers Award 2009. Please visit Poonam’s blog or Vee’s blog to learn about the categories and the rules. There’s just a week left before nominations close, so get over there and nominate your favourite posts!

 

WTF Buddies!

I chanced upon an interview of someone called Sonal Sehgal, who’s acting in Radio. It seems she has a line there where she asks another female character – presumably about Himesh – “Are you fuck buddies?” (In theatres, look out for the line “Are you beeeep buddies?”)

Oh the horror, the sheer horror – and incredulity – of it all. Himesh? Fuck buddy?? WTF??? (What will we have next? Aamir as a student? Nah. Let’s not be ridiculous.)

Unless, of course, the film is inspired by that classic fairy-tale about the Princess and the Frog, with Himesh having landed the “before” part.

To be fair to Himesh, his self-belief and tenacity are admirable. He believes he is a ‘hero’, and it seems the universe has granted him his wish. Thrice. And why not, considering that Kishan Kumar was also granted his. Many times.

*

Kishan Kumar who? Don’t tell me you never heard that musical blockbuster, Kaccha Sila Diya Tune Mere Pyar Kaa! Enjoy!

 

Let’s Bare and Green It!

Not that we needed any proof. But if ever we did, then this experiment of the National Trust in Britain would be evidence enough. Evidence that our cultural arrogance is not only justified, it also has its basis in sound scientific reasoning. What else can you expect from the people who gave the world zero, all those centuries ago?

The National Trust is conducting an experiment at one of its heritage properties to conserve water. Its gardeners have therefore been instructed to pee in the open, on beds of straw provided for the purpose. Finally, vindication of the fact that Indian men whipping out their penises to pee when confronted with walls is nothing but concern for the environment! If, as the Trust claims, just 10 male staff members following this recommendation will result in a reduction of the estate’s water consumption by a third, can one imagine the trillions of litres that we have saved as a nation? After all, our sex ratio is skewed in favour of males.

Given this fact, it’s even more critical now that we stand our ground at the Climate Change Meet at Copenhagen. Bolstered by such third-party data substantiating our continued active concern for this planet’s fragile ecosystem and scarce resources, we can grab the moral high ground.

We should actually go a step further – we should humbly (but not too humbly – remember, pride in one’s culture is a good thing, and we should slap that point home), underline the fact that even our great defecating tradition, apart from being as environmentally friendly as our urinating habit, is actually a precursor of organic farming.

In fact, we could actually pep up the agricultural sector’s numbers by some clever marketing, selling our farm produce at premium prices by labelling them ‘100% organic’. Let’s set up a Green Certification Authority that certifies agricultural products as completely natural, with little stickers that say, for instance, that “This carrot was nurtured by pure, uncontaminated human faecal matter, carefully, personally and naturally sprayed on by the farmer and his family”. In time, like with the great wine estates of France, particular fields in India will also develop their own characteristic identity. You know, potatoes with a unique taste and aroma from one estate, and distinctive enticingly-flavoured cauliflowers from another. India’s fruits and vegetables will become global brands!

But we still need to take one last small step in our journey towards being one with the environment. While we are an “Outdoors” people (not to be confused with the Canadians, who are just an “outdoors” people), we still use water to, well, clean up after. That has to change if we are to preserve water. No, I’m not recommending paper – that only destroys rainforests. But surely we can use leaves? Completely natural, totally bio-degradable, absolutely environmentally friendly.

Let not Copenhagen be another exercise in papering over the cracks.

Let’s wipe the planet green. Let’s bare and green it!

 

There’s no stopping Progress!

In 1947, there were approximately 568 princely families controlling our destinies. They, along with a few thousand zamindars and other members of the minor royalty, formed an elite corp, completely insulated from the rest of India. Going by their incomes and lifestyles, they may as well have been from a small planet somewhere in the vicinity of Betelgeuse as far as the rest of India was concerned. By and large, these families had no abiding interest in the progress, development or betterment of their fiefdoms and peoples and sought only to perpetuate their power, which was the source of their incomes and therefore lifestyles. The faceless masses, with their aspirations, dreams and nightmares, may as well have been from some other planet in the vicinity of Betelgeuse as far as this bunch was concerned.

In 2009, there are approximately 543 princely families controlling our destinies. They, along with a few thousand MLAs, MLCs, Corporators and other members of the minor royalty, form an elite corp, completely insulated from the rest of India. Going by their incomes and lifestyles, they may as well be from a small planet somewhere in the vicinity of Betelgeuse as far as the rest of India is concerned. By and large, these families have no abiding interest in the progress, development or betterment of their fiefdoms and peoples and seek only to perpetuate their power, which is the source of their incomes and therefore lifestyles. The faceless masses, with their aspirations, dreams and nightmares, may as well be from some other small planet in the vicinity of Betelgeuse as far as this bunch is concerned.

We sure have come a long way!

 

Wanted: One Foreign Policy

NOTICE INVITING TENDER

Ref: VRSCRUD/000

Date: 15/10/2009

SUB: URGENT AND CRITICAL REQUIREMENT FOR 1 (SINGLE ONLY, COMPLETE IN ALL RESPECTS) COHERENT FOREIGN POLICY, SUITABLY CUSTOMISED TO DEAL WITH NEIGHBOURHOOD BULLIES AND BRATS, WITH ADDITIONAL REQUIREMENT OF BACKBONE-CONFERRING PROPERTIES, WITHOUT MAKING USER FOOLHARDY.

You are invited to submit your bids for the abovementioned in one single sealed envelope, quoting abovementioned tender number and abovementioned date, at belowmentioned address, taking into account belowmentioned terms and conditions.

Earnest money is Rs. 1 lac only. Award of tender will be based on seller’s ability to transfer large, unaccounted and non-refundable (Duh!) sum of money to numbered offshore account. Seller will be allowed to mark-up bid to the extent of 250% only of the said large and unaccounted sum abovementioned, not counting transfer fees and bank charges, which will be on seller’s account.

You are requested to submit your bids at the earliest, preferably before-it-is-too-late. (For the issuers of this tender, not the bidder.)

Sd/-

Effing Clueless

 

Requiem for a Country

On 26 November 1949, the Constituent Assembly unanimously adopted the Constitution of India. In the debate leading up to that event, Dr. B.R Ambedkar, as Chairman of the Drafting Committee, spoke at length about the way the committee went about preparing the draft for the document that was to be the Constitution of India. But he also, in the latter part of his remarkable speech, made a few incredible observations that ring truer today than at any time in the past. Dr. Ambedkar, quite apart from being an extremely erudite man, also had great foresight.

For example, he wondered if India would lose its independence again, and said: “What perturbs me greatly is the fact that not only has India once before lost her independence, but she lost it by the infidelity and treachery of her own people”. He cited quite a few instances in our glorious history to underline this point.

And then he went on to say: “….in addition to our old enemies in the form of castes and creeds we are going to have many political parties with diverse and opposing political creeds. Will Indians place their country above creed or will they place creed above country? I do not know, but this much is certain that if the parties place creed above country, our independence will be put in jeopardy a second time and probably be lost for ever.”

He listed three things that he felt were essential for the preservation of our constitutional democracy:

“The first thing in my judgment we must do is hold fast to constitutional methods of achieving our social and economic objectives…..it means we must abandon the methods of civil disobedience, non-cooperation and satyagraha……these methods are nothing but the Grammar of Anarchy….”

“The second thing we must do is observe the caution which John Stuart Mill has given to all who are interested in the maintenance of democracy, namely, not to lay their liberties at the feet of even a great man, or to trust him with powers which enable him to subvert their institutions…..This caution is far more necessary in the case of India than in the case of any other country. For in India, Bhakti or what may be called the path of devotion or hero-worship, plays a part in its politics unequalled in magnitude by the part it plays in the politics of any other country in the world. Bhakti in religion may be a road to the salvation of the soul. But in politics, Bhakti or hero-worship is a sure road to degradation and to eventual dictatorship.”

The third point he made in this connection was how critical it was to integrate and incorporate the principles of liberty, equality and fraternity in our democracy. And not just by mouthing platitudes.

Dr. Rajendra Prasad, as President of the Constituent Assembly, said in his speech that followed Dr. Ambedkar’s: “…..I would have liked to have some qualifications for members of the legislatures. It is anomalous that we should insist upon high qualifications for those who administer or help in administering the law but none for those who make it except that they are elected. A law giver requires intellectual equipment but even more than that capacity to take a balanced view of things, to act independently and above all to be true to those fundamental things of life – in one word – to have character. It is not possible to devise any yardstick for measuring the moral qualities of a man, and so long as that is not possible, our Constitution will remain defective”.

The rising trend of politicians and parties to relegate the larger interest to the garbage bin and focus on self-aggrandisement instead, the increasing prevalence and acceptance of unconstitutional and usually violent means of protest and of making your voice heard,  the growing cult of nepotism, dynastic succession & absolute power as well as our apathetic surrender of the reins of the country to those whose place is actually in prison -  all in the name of the will of the people – this was foreseen, more than sixty years ago, by those who gave us our freedom and our constitution.

Eerily prophetic, both of them. Our country truly misses leaders of this calibre.

*

If eternal vigilance is the price of liberty, we sure as hell haven’t paid for ours.

 

Review: Dil Bole Hadippa

Utter Fucking Crap.

 

Shit Happens!

I was having no luck getting an auto-rickshaw yesterday, and was resigned to a spirited sprint in the rain (admire the alliteration?), when I saw one just ahead of me, with the disembarking passengers paying the driver what they owed him. As I ran towards the auto, I thought I caught a smirk of sorts from one the passengers as he walked away.

The driver leaned across and said something in Hindi that I couldn’t catch. I thought he was saying that he couldn’t go, or wouldn’t go, or some such thing, and I geared myself up for another one of those fights – till I realised that what the driver was saying to me was “Bhaisaab, mujhe abhi number 2 jaana hain”.

Which is the Hindi Victorianism for “Dude, I so gotta take a dump right now”.

He’d apparently told his previous passengers to get off as well…..and that is why they were laughing as they walked in the rain.

Shit happens.

 

Firang Songs That Get Desis Moving

What does it take to get desis moving?

Well, in the pubs I frequent, it could be any one of four songs; until any one of these songs is played, we’re all there, staring into our drinks and minding our own business, or talking to other members of our group. But when the song begins, we feel this incredible urge to join in – even if we only know the refrain. Some may even want to make a few moves, and there’s a lot of foot-stompin’, clapping, shaking and a horribly out-of-tune chorus that invariably accompanies these songs.

And it’s always one of these four songs:

I personally don’t rate any one of these songs very highly.

Take Another Brick in the Wall. For the life of me, I can’t figure out why this song is preferred to other fantastic songs in the same album – Mother, Goodbye Blue Sky and Comfortably Numb among them. But everyone, without exception, perks up when this number is played, and starts mouthing the lyrics.

Similarly with I Want to Break Fee. Many other brilliant songs to choose from – Don’t Stop Me Now, It’s a Hard Life, Bohemian Rhapsody, We are the Champions, Man on the Prowl – and this is the song that brings the house down.

Money for Nothing has to be the worst song ever from the Dire Straits stable. Brothers in Arms wins top honours in that particular album – though Why Worry and So Far Away are also very good. OK, so they’re not exactly pub songs, but what’s wrong with Walk of Life? And if I have to go across albums, why not Sultans of Swing, or even something like Heavy Fuel? And let’s not even talk Shakespeare or go down the Telegraph Road.

I have saved the Doors for last because I always seem to rub people the wrong way when I tell them that, in my humble opinion, this is the most overrated band in history. And they still managed to come up with songs better than Roadhouse Blues. So, if someone must play the Doors, play another number instead! How about Light My Fire?

What do you think? Do you have a list of songs that you are absolutely sick and tired of hearing?