Valentine? Pseudo..

Roses galore, petals kiss your thirst and mountains spit collages of serene kiosk…
At a time of penchant vows, I courageously demean the dawn to caress and make love.
Very, astonishingly, brave, mild, grizzly moan and fetish desires engulf paradigm.

I, fake, not to diminish but to flourish with pretentious glory.
Ah, my pittance of a mimic glows through the veins of malicious pun.
And, respite doesn’t meet me until I devour the known to giggle the unknown.

Yet, women, mostly, are paradoxical occurrences of my mingle minds. No, they love me.
Why? Where? Hmmmm… How? No, let’s go back and fend actions that mattered.
Am I to love and perish with substance that usually forges anonymity?

Guess what, I still love thee to elude wrath and flaunt insatiable within core.
Ecstasy, mind you, is a state of being you and inviting magnetic proportions.
I, think to be devoid, but, known to be alive despite.

While the world basks itself in ballistic hormones of youthful bliss (well, evolution might not alter few that scream from within), I, the most laudable of niche, wish you all, the memoirs of a beautiful and a voluptuous lifeomaniac. Or, perhaps, for the one that’s in the making.

Agneepath (2012): When the legend met his nemesis..

In the 90s, Vijay Dinanath Chauhan epitomised the fallacy of a celebrated gangster. It was touted as THE film of the Shahenshah and famously earned him the national award for an iconic performance.

21 odd years and we have Kancha Cheena rocking Mandwa with his ubiquitous aura. Rauf Lala becomes an aid for Vijay to avenge his father’s death and reclaim the little picturesque near the sprawling Mumbai.

For me, KJOs Agneepath is a far cry from what his dad crafted with Mukul Anand at the helm. Vijay was the consortium of an outcry in Kancha’s devious motives. He topples his empire with ferocious charm and flaunts a heart of gold. The latter is visible in the Vijay of KJOs but the former is completely gone. And, that for me, relinquishes the very soul of Karan Malhotra’s Agneepath. With few notwithstanding, Kancha Cheena, the Bollywood baddie is back rocking and Lala will remain etched in me for sometime to go.

Again, this version survives on splendid performances from its lead actors who are the antagonist. Like the original, the ladies have nothing to cash in on, though Madhavi was a critical leaf in Vijay Dinanath Chauhan’s blood-immersed life of goons. Kaali, is hardly there (except in the song and dance sequences) and her frames with Vijay lack the desired chemistry. Zarina Wahab falls prey to the script she was handed over and does justice (Rohini Hattangadi as Vijay’s unapologetic mother was an irreplaceable venture). Om Puri as Gaitunde was ordinary, and one of the finest actors in our country has been wasted. Katrina does the stealer act with ‘Chikni Chameli’ and leaves quite a few hearts famished.

You could easily blame me for rekindling past a bit too much, but then, nostalgia defines the roots of our lives in a mysterious fashion. I missed these sorely: the confrontation between Vijay and his mother on his ways, her constant attempts to keep him away from his little sister, the delicate relationship between Gaitunde & Vijay and above all, the camaraderie of Vijay Dinanath Chauhan and Kancha Cheena. And, how could I ever forget the ferocious talent of the abusive ally in Tinnu ‘Nathu’ Anand? I will always miss when stamps are bygones.

Sanjay Dutt is my favourite devil here and gives a knock out performance. He is back and look how! The muscle baldie with lingering tattoos of the ‘Shaitan’ is a look borrowed straight from hell and I adored it. Rauf Lala’s inclusion is the biggest saving grace of this Johar remake and Rishi Kapoor deserves an ovation for his stand out feat as the wrecker in chief amidst the Vijay – Kancha despair. His exit post interval took the sheen away and I had to wait till Kancha comes back for the penultimate. The dialogues fitted the bill of the need but Kader Khan’s rendition in the ’91 classic was powerful and remains undisputed.

I don’t believe in comparisons, but I revel in legendary moments. The cash registers are singing the swan song and Dharma Productions will certainly take that. But I am sure KJO will lose the reins over a cup of coffee with his dad at the outcome. And, I would, by all means, take the senior Johar’s side.

Souvenirs from the lasting braces..

# The first day of 2012 was just another day, and not surprisingly, the ones that followed suit replicated the former. Phew! It’s so agonisingly hard to believe that things would venom upon its itself and alter to take a shape of fervour goodness. I trust and always have, that I, as human, cannot remain indispensable for the most of what this planet subscribes to.

# I came across couple of invigorating and sparsely written articles that count amongst the finest of 2012, as equations stand today. A flashback like endorsement for the inimitable Mohd Rafi was not always required, but at times, to rekindle the past could be of such palatial pleasures. I loved every frame and revived the golden era of playback rendition.

‘Unsexing Marilyn Monroe’ was an astonishing document of unravelling facts. Her mystique, stunning beauty and the blatant controversies have intrigued me for long, and this was worth a sublime read.

Scanned many others, but significantly, few could grasp my attention with trance.

# Indian cricket’s dark moments have loomed large since the whitewash in Thame waters, and the annihilation down under has only reinforced the tame truth: this playing eleven might not be capable enough to win a 5-day battle overseas. Failures are apart of this mercurial game, yet the manner in which the most vaunted brigade has faltered in the last 7 duels in the 22 strip has to be a lot more than mere coincidence. I am shocked at our gameplay, and I am not ready to point fingers at one entity. Neither am I terse to proclaim disaster by relegating few legends of the game to tatters. Yet, BCCI has to bridgett much more than minting frivolous cash out of the celebrated IPL and gorge some focus on the fundamentals of a playing eleven which has forgotten to essay its role in the longer and authentic version of the game, which for me, still breathes test cricket as oxygen.

# Ah! Films quote statements. And trademarks slide away for such notes. Couple of Tamil films impressed me and watched ‘Nanban’ with dialysis of the known. Guy Ritchie’s ‘Sherlock Holmes’ was a visual stunner and Rohit Dhawan continued his father’s legacy with a dud-dish ‘Desi Boyz’ which was a poor rehash sans Chitrangada Singh (I have got used to the leggy Padukone now ;)) who stole the squib show with élan.

Not quite impressive but then you can expect me to have rugged weeks with less pomp.

Not wonders, but hoping for the next few weeks to embrace with perfidious nonchalance. Again, I chose restraint while over-boarding appears vicious.

Is adequacy a deterrent?

As events come to a close with 2011, I have been quite evasive in introspection (though it has never been a forte). Me, to remain as I, has been a conflict of sorts with battling aspirations.

I am denying a dud of a 2011 but have my reservations to claim it as an accomplishing one. Fighting yourself is a greater challenge than fighting tangible components of physical influences. Your capabilities slew away from your inhibitions to confront questions of meagre yet astounding nature. Few, I answered. Few, I am struggling to. Many, I cease to avoid with timid corners.

With all the cordial occurrence in close quarters, I got to know myself better. I suffer from self inflicted supreme chaotic syndrome, and honestly, bear this possession with titanic pride. Moreover, realised that PPP (patience, perseverance, potent) have become my ferocious allies with seldom prick. I battle, get down, again battle, fend but not brood (I am guilty of not acquiring this attribute in it’s infancy) and decide to have faith in abilities with the right compass.

As 2011 eclipses and 2012 surfaces unsurmountable desires, I prepare to get myself equipped with instincts of my own.

As I enter the memphis amidst self, I take the onus on me to wish all my readers, a courageous and phantom 2012!

Mayakkam Enna (Tamil Film): Gutsy and Glorious Few!

If human relationships could be bracketed under mystic wraps, then I would be the most prominent protagonist to breathe life with pretentious fame.

‘Mayakkam Enna’ is one such tantalising epic that miscodes and quotes life in phonetic modes. A great ‘hounds and fur’ portrayal of versatile characters in situations of despicable abyss, ME enthrals most of it with flaws of pardonable stature.

Once again, the foundations of a film has been rested on the most curative and blissful relationship known to man: friendship. A spurious gang with a heart of gold, the best friend with an inexplicably beautiful date and the primitive ‘genius’ who gets the better of the both to marry his best pal’s so called girlfriend: the plot and the sequences have been put in place with casual importance. Struggles and veracity are parallels to this bunch of youngsters who fall and blossom with the timeless vein.

The screenplay has been the lynchpin of this Selvaraghavan courage and I was surprised (quiet honestly) to see the maturity in the script. Performances have been top notch and are praiseworthy. Seldom in the elite annals of Tamil cinema has a woman been showcased to be the epitome of man’s evolution (even though the current crop of generation has been able to come to terms with this lost but chrome reality) with such powerful grace. The 8 minute magic were Yamini is requested to embrace infidelity by one of their best buddies owing to Karthik’s pitiable state and her stunning response to his lustful penchant was pure aesthetics from a woman who was very much in love with her husband. It remains to be one of the finest moments crafted in Tamil cinema and I remain loathed till it flows away.

Dhanush delivers a sedate and impressive performance, once again. Here is one actor who is coming of age, never mind if it’s touch unorthodox and lacks pomp. Richa Gangopadhyay’s histrionics are a testimony to Selvaraghavan’s stint with a filmmaker’s pantheon. The supporting cast doesn’t go over board and Karthik-Yamini roll it over with calculated restraint.

I have always penned Selvaraghavan’s works with disdain. With ‘Mayakkam Enna’, he is realising his doses well and is an improved talented version of what he was with his earlier mishaps. An inspiring film with the right ingredients, I look forward to his future assignments with unpredictable glee.

When dominance was ecstasy..

As I watch the ‘Agneepath Series’ at the spectacular MCG, I had my notions revisit the legacy of the OZ juggernaut.

When Sehwag was dropped by the wicket keeper (few minutes before tea), I was like “Omigosh, this isn’t the Aussie side I have witnessed in the last 18 years” and my pandora wasn’t hinting at nothing.

I still remember those days when I used to cuddle myself up to watch a series down under (I refused to replicate those efforts when I had my exams knocking the door and usually, I am under prepared) and an inevitable Indian scorecard of 33-3 or 21-2 would invite my sober eyes. We would end up losing the series by miles (Boss would have scorched few relentless knocks during the course of those defeats but for a losing cause) and we would end the tour with McGrath and Warnie going home with buckets of wickets. I am talking about the world champion Australian side of my era. It doesn’t belong to them any more.

With due respect to the Pontings, McGraths and Warnes, but they were an admonishing asset to the Aussie armoury for years and I, by all means, miss their valour on the inimitable cricketing field. An Adam Gilchrist will be hard to find in the vicinity for half a century, to say the least. Evidently, great bowling attacks had the demeanour to destroy the famous line ups of the world and to our dismay, this generation doesn’t have even one to it’s credit.

The Windies were a Prophet in the cricketing annals for heralding such fire with the ball. Garner, Roberts, Holding, Marshall, Walsh, Ambrose.. I look back at those names with awe and their superiority was stuff that legends are made of. The OZs had that touch of blemish-less arrogance for almost 2 decades but then, as they say, “Even Caesar’s rule came to an end”.

I loved watching those stalwarts as much as I hated watching India crumble. Today, we are the world champions, but with all my oscillating emotions in close quarters, I don’t think we have an Indian bowling side that could take 20 wickets in a test match. We are a phenomenal batting colossus (my equations would change when I fork out the Big-3 out of the playing eleven but I will talk about that in my next ordeal) but our exploits with the adjacent quarter is pedestrian.

As I craft my thoughts over, we are at a steady 147-2. I am smiling with plummeted resistance.

Lifeoholic’s memoirs..

Our ability to emote is a variable widget in our lives. It’s preinstalled but comes in to use depending upon the circumstances and the kind of people we are surrounded by. I, conspicuously and by finesse of nature, am not an emotional creature. But, moments of poignancy does take its toll. When it did evolve this week, I was stranded precariously. And to my fluid pride, my battle with human relationships continues to amaze me.

I believe, places have souls. Cities breath a different aura of tenacity and I get myself constantly sucked in to it’s culture. The same feeling waved along as my third visit to the Charminar city plunges in to some fine moments of my life.

I am not a person who solemnises ceremonies. I conduct myself to the highest order, when confronted with one though. And this time, my presence was a prerogative as I watched my little angel getting in to a holy movement of quick distress and vital fulfilment. I wasn’t very me as the usual phonetics embedded within me gave away to the little one’s grimaces. All well, alright, but for me, it was a resident feeling. Never do I let myself in for such occasions but this one invited itself for a rare celebration and my obligation was customary.

I felt like adulthood was basking itself in such organic gestures and once more, I salute the DNAs for drafting what’s inherent of myself. Being so very human.

When vacationing vents notes..

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“Being iconic doesn’t indicate invincibility but symbolises pervasiveness”.

“A picture perfect story could be buried under debris when pookish fixtures confront you”.

“Andheri, Bandra-Worli Sea Link, Haji Ali, Marine Drive, Wankhede, Aston Martin.. an illustrious ride to Colaba couldn’t pack more muscles”.

“Happy Anniversary to Suddha-Babli, probably the only elite couple who allow me to intrude their privacy :)”. You guys are the best!! The next showdown awaits us with pomp”.

“San Joao offered divinity in abundance: Benoleum took our breath away and ‘Rex’ fed us with plenty to gobble with oomph”.

“Landscapes, curvatures, Jesus in churches, cashews on by-lanes, waters in peripherals and villages amidst bacon paradise. Goa is calling me, I sans insanity oblige with panache”.

“Sports and waters are engaging partners; I engulfed myself and the sea embraced me. Result was mutual: ecstasy!”.

“If affordable becomes my veins, Aston Martin would kiss me, Bentley would cuddle me and Rolls Royce would romance me. Tick tick, time has become a frog, leaps before the carpet reaches out”.

“Destinations don’t matter as long as the desire to provoke and prolong becomes a consonant of my cognisant mind”.

Rockstar: Dazzling Debonair!

It happens during an occasional hiatus when a film with heart and soul appears to melt you down. Very few could have a translucent and vibrant mix of love, eccentricity, attitude, sadness, loss, romance, obsession, creativity and perhaps, madness. ‘Rockstar’ embodies these in plenty and takes you through a journey of elapsed yet powerful minds.

It’s a musical and the fact remains has it has bygone the script of the film in every single frame of the 2 hour 25 minute Imtiaz Ali offering. I have to admit that ARRs compositions are very closely etched with the threads and caricature of the film. The way it begins, the manner in which Imtiaz takes you through the valley of Kashmir and caresses past the sedative lanes of Prague are poignant. The story oscillates between JJ and Jordan impressively, his rise to stardom and fall from grace owing to creative indiscipline is a stuff that’s emerging from the tales of our real yet disgraced reel entertainers. The storyline cannot be termed unique (it’s unfortunate that it has few similarities with a dud that happened to release couple of months before – MBKD) but thankfully, the ordeal isn’t replicated here at its worst. Rather, the proceedings of their love story has a touch of elegance masquerading infinite barriers. The steamy sequences are not left out but handled with connotations of a classic and oozes exuberance. Well, if it’s a musical and a love story, such depictions are an epitome of fluctuating human desires. Evidently, they are congenial and apt.

‘Rockstar’ reinforces the age old formula of the tinsel town in to a grand symphony. ‘Zindagi mein kuch banna hai to dard chahiye’ is the statement doing the rounds and JJ becomes Jordan, not to mention that you need to be unanimously talented and carry the passion inside your guitar. “A woman is man’s greatest inspiration, not because he wins her with all in the platter but loses her with everything at stake”. I live by this beautiful plot but ‘Rockstar’ pulls you in with this as the pinnacle and carries you through with aplomb.

For me, the cast was critical and again, not so very critical. Jordan aka Ranbir Kapoor walks away with all the accolades and deserves a pat on his back (though I still feel his best is yet to come). Imtiaz made this for him and he has obliged with a crackling performance. Nargis Fakhri makes a stunning entry in to the BO and owes it all to Imtiaz for a royal beginning. Performance-wise, It was a mixed bag but for a debutante, I see it as a grand beginning. She is very hot, though and you will battle to take your eyes off her. Yahoo man’s final celluloid appearance was an icing on the cake. The rest, as they say, were just about there to render aid to the central characters.

The winner, not surprisingly enough and with all due respect to Ashtavinayak and Imtiaz Ali, is A.R.Rahman. I remain soaked in ‘Naadan Parindey’, ‘Tum Ho’, ‘Kun Faya Kun’, ‘Hawaa Hawaa’ and ‘Katiya Karoon’. I go berserk every time ‘Sadda Haq’ and ‘Aur Ho’ is played, no wonder the former is being touted as the ‘Anthem of the Youth’. Arguably, this is one of Rahman’s finest magical products and undeniably, the soundtrack of the decade. Mohit Chauhan has arrived and is the flavour of the month.

I had expectations from ‘Rockstar’ and I came out of the cinemas with curtailed vigour. Imtiaz has struck gold, yet again and Bollywood has reasons to cheer from the stables back home.

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Those were the days..

While sipping the customary lemon tea and exchanging pleasantries for the day with couple of my colleagues during our early morning banter, we ran in to a conversation that seldom fades away.

Our younger days are our inspiration and the greatest teacher (few would disagree with me on that). We cursed our teachers, accused our parents of being dictators and loathed on the paramedics of a delightful world that laid its shadow on us to beget. Well, or to say, besieged the frivolous mind.

In retrospective, I feel that our misdeeds have made us the mettle that we are made of today.

As a kid, we needed the cosy shields of our parents and flourished precariously. As teenagers, we saw them as paid liabilities, :). The most affluent aspect of a students life is to vanquish our teachers, and we take a lot of pride in such accomplishments. Our freedom is on a sabbatical journey and our aspirations look outrageously impressive.

We are at the disposal of every opportunity that encourages naive inhabitants and we strictly believe in the classic theory: all that glitters is certainly gold. Savouries, clothing, G&G, girls.. Merchandise was alluring and the opposite gender is swooning over your persona of callous grammar. Or, vice versa, for starters.

Dad’s money was RBI’s self funded economic mystery; I would be happy as long as it kept swirling out of his wallet. To our dismay, having five bucks in yours pockets in that glorious era was an aberration and spending them was equally distasteful. But honestly, dad’s money had its own flavour (still has!) and the cash coming out of his adorned enclosure was a boon. I might have more bucks in my pocket today than he does, but, somewhere down the line, I miss the chemistry.

Ek taakar cha, ded taakar singhara, 2 taakar garam kachoodi aar aadai taakar lengcha: the denominations look primitive but for me, these are priceless and offer life.

How could I forget ‘Symphony’ in the bustling corridor of Dharamtalla! Dad’s hard earned money lies in his little wooden box of overflowing proportions and I would gorge upon the store to wait for the new releases. Today, I am disposing my Dad’s souvenirs!

Folks, this juggernaut will never stop but got to go for good. But my coherent legacy will get me back and I assure to take you down the memory lane, again.

Steven Paul Jobs (1955-2011): The pioneer and his legacy..

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Technology became poorer by tons as we lost a charismatic leader and a creative genius who succumbed to cancer on October 5th, 2011.

I have been reading and celebrating the life of a man who lived in his own terms and his acute manoeuvring skills in the field of computing and later, towards the mobile revolution became history. He gave us the ‘i’ syndrome that has taken over our lives in a staggering fashion.

His oratory skills and presentations are revered all over the world and if not anything, Apple will probably never replace his debonair that stood outclassed. I am to believe (rather certain) that Apple will dominate and still come up with contagious products but for consumers, Apple can never sell anything like Steve Jobs does.

From a college drop out to meeting Steve Wozniak in HP to introduce macintosh was a beginning of an era. Getting fired from his own company owing to his provocative clashes with John Sculley was an aberration; he went on create ‘Next Computers’ and gave the world, a marvel called ‘Pixar Studios’ (Disney bought it from Steve and went on to make masterful commodities like ‘Toy Story’ and ‘Finding Nemo’). He was back at the helm of affairs in 1998 and 2001 saw the emergence of a unique introduction that would go on to change the face of the industry forever: The iPod. iTunes, iPhone and iPad followed, and Steve became the undisputed messiah from the Silicon Valley. Amidst, his health took a backseat (diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in 2004 and underwent a liver transplant in 2009). But the Apple juggernaut continued. His belligerent speech at Stanford spoke volumes about the man’s character. Outstanding conviction and awfully inspired.

Jobs’ failures (Lisa, Next, Apple TV) catapulted him to rare state of sublime self indulgence and his comebacks were lethal. Known for his pulsating banters and taking a dig at his competitors during his iconic product launches, he managed to woo them too. “We are here to make a dent in this planet”. Steve and Apple probably lived this dream in style.

My tribute wouldn’t cause a flutter since we all have been glued to his achievements for the past 3 days. But for a person who is an Apple freak and lives with almost every Apple product, I owe Steve an applause of a special kind for lending his inspiration all over.

“No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don’t want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be. Because Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is Life’s change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new. Right now the new is you. But someday not too long from now, you will gradually become the old and be cleared away. Sorry to be so dramatic, but it’s quite true.” – Steve Jobs

Do we patronise Mr. Gandhi?

I opened up my day with the headlines and to my dismay, it appeared that tabloids were more keen to get a glimpse of the ailing Sonia Gandhi and get to more trivia behind the background rather putting in few sedate moments to remember the reverent Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi.

Is that the kind of relevance we attach to the birth anniversary of an iconic exponent? I am not glorifying ‘Bapu’ but his exploits and ideologies can seldom be forgotten.

‘Gandhi Jayanti’, ‘International Day of Non Violence’ and being an epitome of truth in a dynasty of treacherous values is a credential that hardly evokes enthusiasm in the hearts of our youth. In other words, the message has never been passed on to the generations in a manner it should have been. No, I am not encouraging people to give birth to a messiah or mould children in to a statue of tethering principles. But history must never be bypassed for convenience and all I plead is to share awareness.

There have been numerous stories (written in an outset of fact, fiction, documentary and films) about Gandhi and his relentless battle with the British empire. Or probably, his decision to reach a compromise with Jinnah and subsequently agreeing to have a nation split as 2 individual judicial powerhouse. The latter, is still, a subject of acute debate and criticism, and we are struggling to come to terms with our partition despite the celebration of our Independence surpassing six decades. It’s imperative to have notions floating around, but honestly, you and me can only speculate, scrutinise and retaliate at forums of bane (in)significance.

I can quote ample instances but only with curious subjugations. Here, that has never been the intent. But I would certainly populate few aspects of our governance to the forefront. The idealistic mental tussle that the ‘Mahatma’ fought has been buried decades before, beneath a layer that he never explored or believed in. That, for us, is the greatest of resolute to bear and live with. With the growing advent of terrorism that continues to lead us in to a bludgeon of darkness, we might have to admit that ours has been a government of flawed amenities.

This would be just another stupid article for you that has been read at multiple junctures with collateral damage. But, I would rather invoke than revoke the essence of our legacy that needs to get transformed at the earliest, if not today.