Lots, and coming in..

Has been a good and hectic time of pandora around with glitz and curiosity in equal measures.

No, not because of Germany’s triumph but for the vanquished ones. Have always been an admirer of Albiceleste since school days and those sentiments probably stick around. Not to mention, I played ‘pada’ football during much of my younger days and have some fond memories from those packet sized foul mouthed haute. Days of such ignorance and yet so blissful ! Loved the world cup though, some interesting matches with the seldom class that hovers around the big match players and the vital games. Though 1.30 IST hurt, but got through with little hiccups.

Went through some invigorating movies to laud myself. Bit of weaver stuff as my appetite for versatility keeps growing :).
Feeling about money and making money are 2 very different things in life, 2 such films played a frivolous penchant to my bickered thought process.
‘Wolf of Wall Street’ was a Scorsese chaos with a stunning collage of characters woven in dollars, drugs and pussy. It had a rawness about the protagonist, not to mention his incredible ability to persuade and destruct his instincts with an insatiable orgy towards the inimitable greed.
Oliver Stone’s Wall Street is more sober, yet punches in intrigue with oodles of human tussle that involves ego, deceit and vengeance through convulsive relationships. Yet again, greed is a component that emerges as a human parasite. Extinguished but never withers away to defy a comeback.
Though a Scorsese patriot, Stone’s Wall Street was more real in terms of pudding versus pie tussle.

Lot more happened, and I could just about remain reclusive as work treated me as its host with lot to unravel. And, continues, that is.

54 CW glories, the pinnacle at Lords and the nadir in Manchester, Djokovic’s Wimbledon triumph, Hockey India’s march till Australia put paid to the illuminating hopes.
My Blu-ray orders that never erodes away, Calcutta’s rain which defines intermittent oscillation through our mandate chores.
WWDC was more mellowed to replenish our expectations, iOS 8 means less as much as a device that would pour more that intends to carry 8 with aplomb.
Apple is all set to end my wait for a 5.5 iPhone, hopefully it transcends to a kettle of revolution that once made my 4 flaunt with incorrigible pride. It still remember my stores saying – ‘the days of iPhone 4 were an absolute chaos, and few around knew what an iPhone would do for them in the next few years’. Do I say more? Don’t think I have to.
I must say that Samsung Note 4 could tease the next iPhone (not as much as Google Glass did to re-imagine our tech tooth) but I would like to see an overhaul for the latter.

My in transit relationship with a voice over awaits in the next few weeks, and am waiting for an even quicker backlash. For now, if that gives you reason enough to sit through for my next.

Tale of four cities

Lawrence of Arabia
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0056172/

A pedigree of class and indulgence, this Academy de noir was a spectacular voyage. More than half a decade later, it still ranks high amidst world heritage stuff. Gloriously shot, it captures the glitz of sand and vivacity of the deserts with enormous thirst. The lengthy golden traits, the exquisite sights of crawling camels under divine sunsets, the marauding Arab camps and the ever pretentious Whites in their game of philandering supremacy. The wit versus hoard through bilateral landscapes unfold in a fashion of a classic entrepreneur wielding his own fortunes. A hungry and a dramatic adventure, LoA reminds me of the vintage era that basked in sumptuous glory and plethora of elegance.

Iruvar
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0119385/

Perhaps, Mani’s finest yet. The cinematic hordes within a gamut of political and devious velvets, it brings the sliver screen in a breathing grasp of the mammoth Gulliver. Though the tag line of ‘not a true story’ is almost a paradoxical hunch, the script is so evidently intense. Aided by brilliant performances and a powerhouse background score, this sweltering script often acknowledges applause and awe in the same planet. Though panned by critics for obvious reasons within the territorial hinges, this remains to be a gutsy product in the world of Tamil and Indian cinema.

The Lunchbox
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt2350496/

Human relationships are probably the most intriguing of all, you can write and talk all day but the sensibilities continue to elude you.

This AK production mystifies the age old enigma with a touch of nostalgia and a heart of gold. The backdrop is the quintessential Mumbai dabbawalas who become the messengers of a strange interlock that wields in to a fountain of deceit and redemption. Extracting terrific performances from it’s lead actors (Irrfan Khan and Nawazuddin Siddiqui), it governs your senses through heart wrenching moments. It takes away less, but returns a galore of humane traces that guilds through kettle drops.

Jatishwar
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt3365690/

Post Ritu da’s departure, I felt that a vacuum was fielding Bengali cinema that has survived generations through a fierce conjunction of story telling through poetry and literature. I can see an evolution, Jatishwar took my vibes seriously.

Sreejit’s baby, it has loads to garland upon. Manoeuvring between traditional folklore and contemporary compositions, it manages to stitch the legacy with it’s tame shadows. Though the characters have earlier references and script itself is no stunner, the treatment is quite engaging. For a musical, the scores and rendition could have been a notch higher but couple of soundtracks continue to sing around me. Performances stand out. Prasenjit delivers another scorcher (doesn’t surpass his Baishey Shrabon jigs though!) and Jishu gives a terrain performance. Some valuable actors have been wasted and the leading lady was a frown. Yet, I will take this one with the yolk and the egg for the class-o-vein.

Random, again.

Long time coming but good things usually a take a turn while the next is due within the ballet☺.

I probably have too many things under the platter but chose to exclaim while others decide amongst themselves.

Leaders on a prowl as the nation await yet another swagger from our elected blade. Not a great political aficionado but certainly want a nation with a better person to lead, crunch and mess as required (not necessary to be in the order prescribed!). Hear shouts and slogans; want them to speak with actions and whips (for a change). Like all, I wait to ponder.

IPL begins yet again, oops. Well, let’s talk something else now.

Past few weeks have been quite endangered, and relatively dull. Not sure why and how, as these sensibilities do not proclaim to be my pals often. Yet, lived them with a sitter of an attitude, and helped blessed connotations regain control. Grained, weather conditions, people change, culture changes, small battles with little gain, souring temperatures (in and out), gloated path ways and a light at the end of the tunnel. Truly, quite impressive, I must say.

Worth mentioning is the field day I had with my boys in a cricket field after hiatus. Battling sapping heat and handicapped self, it was fun to be crackling again with whims and crooks. I relived my younger days with prejudices of a known specie and was worth a million smiles.

A visit to Sikkim was meant to be a rocker and we didn’t disappoint ourselves. Rather, would have chosen to succumb to my premonitions and advertise the Sikkim sojourn in to helm the impact on a brighter paradigm. The week was a bygone with flourish and a great memorabilia.

Keep flushing the pages and I will be right back.

Nation’s Notion: Review – Midnight’ Children (A Deepa Mehta Film)

As a nation, we have transcended and befell before rising amidst tumultuous weathers. Freedom in 1947 is alright, but the transition was as beleaguered as the nation itself that was standing amongst perennial ruins. The sacrifices were largely destructive; the indelible impressions of such are still fighting the storms, till date.

Deepa Mehta dwells India from the darker blemishes to the brighter convoy. We, as a nation, have evolved – socially, economically, financially, and culturally. But we have never managed to rise above our inhibitions that remain to be a colossus out of pervasive root. Talking of roots, I am fond of them. But if they are a form of parasites living upon the bricks of incessant atrocities, I tend to shy away with discretion. Well, I probably, am dating back albeit numerous episodes but Midnight’s Children does have an anecdote of a marauding legacy.

It begins with the times of legions when women are morally and physically, living in captivation of human taboo. It’s more of a defining statement at a time when a nation lies embedded in its own tatters and is crawling its way out of debris to attain rejuvenation. We have always been a country with so much inside our cultures, and introspection reveals stunning facts; facts that are often so unacceptable but are immersed within and continue to wager around in inexplicable overtones. The hidden magic and their exponents of the wavered art are depicted with rustic beauty and roll over syndrome. It peddles around 2 gruesome partitions that tore the nation apart, and juggles between the immediate pre–post-independence that threw the nation in to a post traumatic celebration of freedom from known devils.

In accordance, the film is a reflection of our conjugated manifestations and the seeds that were sown amidst precarious monsters and selfish brilliance.

The performances are closely stitched with the script and sways between the eras of baffled poignancy. All play in with nuanced and restrained acts and held their own.

If freedom is what we celebrate each year, it remains unaccomplished. Yet.

Note: this has been lying in my archives for sometime now and I have been struggling to catch up with time, delayed but don’t think will disappoint my readers!!                                                                      

10

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When God leaves fraternity, there is an unearthed celebration within the veins of mourning.

I have to admit that his departure from the game will bring a platonic end to the childhood within myself. My passion persists for the game notwithstanding, feels like a great amount of melancholy lies within the era that saw us emerging as world champions as the Master plundered, conquered and steered us through abundant pride amidst crazy chaos.

119 in Manchester, 114 in Perth, 169 in Cape Town, 134 & 143 in Sharjah, 155 in Chennai and Bloemfontein, 141 in Dhaka, 136 in Chennai, 217 in Ahmedabad, 176 in Nagpur, 193 in Leeds, 176 in Kolkata, 241 in Sydney, 141 in Rawalpindi, 194 in Multan, 141 in Kuala Lumpur, 153 in Adelaide, 163 in Christchurch, 160 in Hamilton, 175 in Hyderabad, 203 in Colombo, 214 Bangalore.

These epics were stunning exhibition of his rhetoric dynamics and appetite for big match mantles. Not to forget, his World Cup exploits remain at the helm as he plundered oppositions at a spectacular 65+ of an innings (includes his powerhouse 90-ish against Pakistan and his menacing run in 2003 edition that took the tournament by storm).

Geographies, pitches, weather conditions and opponents bowed for his unwavering blade and wider were his array of strokes. 53 of his tons fetched India sublime victories at an average of just below 60. Stunning and staggering! Yet, our maniac ridden cricketing world asks for more as he continued to deliver with the caricature that defined Sachin-ism.

Cricket will never be the same without him.

mere me!

for people who don’t know, am a crazy movie freak with subtle variations. For people who know, it’s nothing short of a aberration.

well, to cut through the pragmatics, I am basking in my own warehouse with a collection that could pour evidence with a dent.

am too much to ask for, care a damn to get critical and get myself in the brink of a known merchandise with playful gawd.

nothing short of an adventure, watching classics and revering icons with such brutal precision.

the sound, the ambiance, the collage of characters in a dimensional beam and getting the whispers right in to your ears – the joy of such buoyant derivative is imperative.

Ah! The endeavor to last for a lifetime, till my nemesis overpowers my voices.