Swades - My kinda' review

This movie indeed was a unique experience - not really because the director did his job well, but because of the circumstances that make watching this movie special.

Employees of Oracle have come out with a new club, called the "movie" club. Their job, looking out for hot movies, liasing with the theatre owners to get bulk tickets, selling them to Oracle employees at a premium rate and using the surplus money for charity.

It happened that now this club has caught up with a theatre "Sensation Insomnia" - Boy! what a name! - for showing us Swades. The actual price of the ticket was Rs.45 and we paid Rs.110 each for it. They sold out all the tickets and collected Rs.15000 for charity.

It was announced that the movie would start at 12:30pm. But the morning paper says that the movie is at 12:00pm, which confused me. Amid the confusion, I reached the theatre at 12:10pm with great expections and heard that the movie was just starting. I frantically ran into the theatre and could see nothing but the screen. People who know me also know that my eyes take quite a bit of time to open up their aperture to allow more light. How nice would it have been if we had varied ISO settings for our cornea, the way the latest digital cameras have!

OK. I just sat there and started watching the movie. I don't really want to spend time giving the details of the story or making critical remarks about the movie. The websites will be full of such information very soon.

My collegues came in on their own time, their instinct saying that if the movie is at 12:30pm, it would actually start at 12:45pm and in the mean-time, the theatre guys will show some advertisements or documentaries for the bakras that chose to come in early. They were disappointed to hear that they had lost half-an-hour of movie.

This 3 hour 20 minute movie went on at a leisurely pace with interesting background music, photography and an interesting way the story was told. Sharukh was as always, at his best, and the heroine, don't ask me her name, was as good as Gauri in Lagaan. Neat and good-looking.

The movie had an anti-climax, probably just for us. They cut 1/2 rolls of the film and dropped on the credits so abruptly that we were sitting in our chairs with eyes popping out and jaws sagging. The theatre guy was apparently bad at time management. But to get enrolled in a "time management" course, he should be working as a software engineer. And if he were a software engineer, he would be one of the spectators who had popped out eyes and sagging jaws.

Disappointed again at the anti-climax, we came out of the movie cheering each other up. Here are a list of conclusions that really bother me.

1. We paid around 230% the actual price of the ticket
2. We missed the start
3. We missed a reel or two which apparently consisted of one of my favourite songs "Aahista Aahista"
4. We missed the ending

After all this, a point to be noted is that I say that the movie is fairly good. Extrapolating the perception to the point where everything goes well, I think we end up saying that it is a pretty good movie.

I wouldn't advise you to watch it simply because it is not my business, unless you ask.

Eat Street

Had a chance to go to this beautiful place for a birthday party last Friday, with a dozen of my revelling friends cum collegues. You should understand that this place was "special" now that you see it on my blog.

This place sits lazily on the banks of Hussain Sagar, almost opposite to Tank Bund. From the outside, it has a huge wall like a jail's and an entrance arch, which was also like a jail's entrance, expect for the neon lights that spelled out the name of the taurant. I wondered why a restaurant is supposed to be so big, and why it was called a street! OK. Shelled out 3 bucks and parked my Activa, and slipping my bare hands into my jacket's pockets (the evening was a bit on the colder side), stalked into the entrace carefully, glancing at a couple of good looking girls.

I got in, and after a couple of scans of the surroundings, my optical person recognizer spotted my collegues, who had landed there earlier in a car. Bang them, they would not have felt any of the cold sitting in the cozy car. Well, now it was time to look around to see what the place looked like and woallah! How the hell should I describe it... it was like a queue of branded food-stores - coffee day, pizza hut, ohris, baker's inn, subway etc. etc... all lined up, inviting you.

After we got a big table set up for us, we went in and got lots of stuff to eat from all these places. No one really had anything normal... like rotis or curries or biryanis, everyone was gorging on junk. So did I. Had lots of junk... rolls, chat, jilebis, mirchi bajjis, pizzas, chole bature etc.

Did I tell you that this was on the banks of the hussain sagar? At around 11pm, we were still hanging around, and then, God gifted us an excellent moon-rise. Over the lake, and just over a line of lights, there stood, as majestic as a white elephant, a huge crescent. It was not white, it was actually brown. How I missed my camera! Well, if only people had told me about the party a day before!

With the moon-rise, people started revelling and going out of gear. We slowly moved out of Eat Street, were back on the street, took my bike out and drove through the deserted roads of Hyderabad. Well, that's another experience to write about, and is clearly out of scope of this topic.

Time

This world is a mysterious place. There's mystery everywhere. And surely, Almighty has provided a way of "closing" each mystery. God allows us either to crack it or forget it. And God, in his inimitable way, has provided the privilege of controlling all this to a shrewd, unscrupulous, merciless dictator-for-life called Time. This guy, Time, keeps this powerful weapon under his ass, and uses it according to his whim and fancy. I thought I'll write about this guy "Time" today because around two days back, people forced me to see a flash animation describing the characteristics of this wierdo.

This guy, Time, is trust-worthy at times. He has a sureshot answer about how and when a mystery will be solved. Take a look at the most recent biggie - the unfathomable mystery. This world had its sleepy eye turned towards a very excited country - The United States of America, to see how they decide who's going to lead that helluva place. I do not know what implications the result of this mystery has to each dog and cat in this world, but for me, it matters a lot. Bush is boring, we already had 4 years of him. But I don't like this guy Kerry. That's just because I don't know this guy. And I hope neither of the two become the President of the pigsty. But Time smiled at me and said, "One of those two is going to be the President, and you will have to wait till Nov 3, 2004 to know. Yes, I trust Time. I know that when he says something, it's going to happen, exactly the way he said it. You must be aware of the fact that one of the two did, to my surprise and horror, become the President.

I thought I could trust Time to keep me posted on all the things I consider important. But let me tell you, Time knows how to hurt you in such a way as to maximise the pain and optimize the anguish. I just asked him when I will be able to get my hands on my new mobile and what model would that be. Time gave his dreaded smile and said, "You figure that out!". I call that injustice. It is unfair to cut me off when I make a self-less request such as this. I have not asked for my soul-mate. I've just asked for a cell-phone to give some company to my trouser-pocket for a few hours each day. I have no idea why he doesn't let me get my hands on any clues on this.

In another few minutes, Time would give that horrible smile again and let me know that I better leave office and hit the road. But why do I have to obey his orders? He doesn't seem to be going around with a whip. But, he still controls my life in a clever way.

Here's my request to every one who's reading this blog. Please let me know if Time has ever told you which mobile I will buy. I also be glad if someone can give me an idea as to how we can lock this trouble-maker in some prison for a few yea... aah... there you are. I know how Time is controlling me. I can not live without Time. Aw... I hate him, but I can not live without him. But when you can not live without someone, people say that its Love. So, what's this Love-Hate paradox?

I am confused...

^$%^&&%^^$#$^

Segmentation fault. Core dumped.
$ _

My first photo over blogger

My hotel room at Delhi

Actually, notwithstanding the fact that I am a so called software engineer, I felt intimidated by people asking me to use HTML to display your snaps, by pointing to a place where you have your snap online. So, I installed this Picasa and Hello clients. So far so good.

You may ask this question - of all the damn pictures, why this one? That is simply because with this I wanted to discuss my hobby - photography. Don't have much time. Will modify this soon. Keep checking this place out.

Delhi Memoirs

Don’t panic. I am not going to put in what you might want to call – an detailed account of my journey. All I want to record here are my little experiences, which eventually prove that Delhi is not entirely unlike the good old India.

It was around 3 years back that I had the privilege of visiting Delhi along with my class mates – a better word would be friends). We had a letter from some minister then, to get cheap cum deluxe accommodation at the Western Court, a huge whitish building with a pre-independence type architecture. The good things – nice food (I have no idea why my friends hated it) and a geyser that spewed out steaming-hot water 24-hrs a day. All 18 of us crammed into 2 rooms and it was fun.

This time over, the situation was glaringly different. This time, I put up at the Hans Plaza, a 15-minute walk from the Western Court. The deluxe room thankfully had a centralized air-conditioning. I will try to add a webcam-snapshot of a photo of the room I had taken there.
Lunch was unsavory and loathsome. Another difference I see is the climate. The first visit was in early February and it was very cold and dry then. Now, in late July, it was surprisingly hot and humid. I guess now you know why I used the word “thankfully” when I mentioned about the air-conditioning. The good thing is that the steaming-hot water is still there.

My relatives later joined me and the things started to run fine since then. But there is one important episode I wanted to talk about here. I arranged for a tourist bus to collect us from our hotel for a trip to Taj Mahal and its adjoining places of Interest, and this proved to be a real “experience” in every sense.

The attitude of the people is not as impeccable as the roads of Delhi:
First thing I noticed as soon as I stepped out of the Domestic Terminal of Delhi airport was that the roads were good and wide and people had good traffic sense. People were driving about in an orderly fashion and the front-seaters had their seat-belts on. I got myself into believing that the people of Delhi had “grown up”. This misconception did not last long. The guy who was pleased to book tickets for my for the Agra tour promised to pick us up at 7 AM sharp and to deposit us back at our hotel by 10 PM sharp. He picked us up at 7:30 AM sharp and dropped us back at 2:15 AM sharp the next day!

The buzzword of Hyderabadis is “Chalta Hai” and that of Delhi is “To Kya Hua?”
Certain south-Indian individuals were visibly unhappy about certain co-passengers not showing any time-sense. These so-called co-passengers saw something of interest during their walk and they came back to their bus 10 minutes after scheduled departure time. The enraged south-indiam, interestingly, a tamilian who was didn’t get to learn much Hindi started shaking with rage as soon as he saw these nonchalant Dilliwala get into the bus.
“Are bhai… kya problem hai… kitna time leta hai”
“Sirji.. Shant ho jao… bhait jao”
“What bhait jao… kya…. See how many passengers are waiting..”
“To?”
“To kya… time pe aana maalum nai kya”
“Thodi si deri ho gayi. Bas… ab teek hai na”
“What ab teek hai na… night ko late ho jayega… small children hai… you people don’t understand.. late kyoo hua?”
“Kuch zaroori kaam tha bhayya… thodi si late ho gayi… to kya hua?”
“To kya hua… some time sense hona hai…”
“Sirji… mera dimag mat khao… bhait jayiye.. please”
“…”
“Bas sirju…. “

Visiting time is directly proportional to commission
There are three places to see in Agra… the fort, the Taj Mahal and a handicrafts shop displaying so-called genuine marble work Visiting time for Agra fort – 40 min. Visiting time for Taj Mahal – One-and-a-half hours. Visiting time to this shop – 15 minutes, extended to two hours!

All Bengalis are the same
My co-passinjaar in this bus baaz a Bengali. He barks as a secret agent for the Home ministry. He was awarded as one of north-India’s greatest Astrologers. A little catalyst provided in the form of a question triggered an exo-sonic reaction which produced a tedious series of words extending for hours regarding things that interest me and things that don’t. He opened this Kashmiri carpet of his life in front of me, carefully avoiding details of his work. After thinking for a while as to how to stop this exo-sonic reaction, I hit upon this very good idea. I pretended to fall asleep. The reaction stopped and he went to sleep instead (he might have pretended too for some reason… I don’t care). Seeing him apparently asleep, I wondered what were the reactants in this chemical reaction.

Size does matter – the size of the wallet
The last place we visited was Vrindavan. Legend says that it is here that Krishna spent his childhood enchanting and protecting the villagers around. After a painfully long blabber about how lucky we were in being able to set foot on the same land as Krishna once graced, our guide, in his own style of Hindi, ushered us into the main temple. The little idle of Krishna was indeed enchanting. But all the happiness you might ever get by taking a Darshan of this marvelous idol was marred by the priests, whose only business seemed to get money out of our pockets to run some old-age home or old-cow home. The chief target were foreigners. That's the reason why size does matter.

Looks like I am ending abruptly, but I can only conclude that I have seen a good amount of real India. I’d like to write more of it, but its getting late and I need to hit bed for a long day at work. So, signing off….

"Ha...Bhai...Ha..." - the Coldarin saga

I opened my eyes today morning and felt just the way Arthur Dent once felt in the dreaded Heart-of-Gold when in its improbability drive. My head was shaking like a space-craft being hit by a blast-o-presto. The pain resembled a hangover of having 10 awful bottles of the blasted gargle-blaster.

I recovered very quickly, as the Woosters generally do and prepared myself to relish one of Jeeve’s trademark pick-me-ups. My mom very generously made some ginger tea for me, making sure of adding extra-pint of ginger to make sure the explosions inside my head resulting out of drinking the liquid has the desired effect.

I had got out of bed before tea to complete my brushing ritual, but the noise inside my head prevented me from adding other things to my list of worries, and these other things started to tap me all over to grab my attention. Each part of my body registered pain in my brain, which was pre-occupied with other worries.

Nevertheless, the enthusiasm of reading a newspaper pumped some eager blood into my limp feet and I looked around with half-open eyes for the paper. As soon as I opened page 1 and saw the face of the stinking Lalloo, my mouth opened and took in a gallon of air. Within a second, my body compressed all the air, turned my nose and mouth into a triple-barrel air gun and then blasted away. The outburst of energy didn’t stop with that. It played havoc. My eyeballs protruded out as if suffering from the second type of Goiter. Both my hands started to feel as if the blood vessels running inside were pulled out to make a violin or to be used as the string for a medieval Indian’s bow.

My dad heard the blast from the triple-barrel air-gun and came for my rescue. Looking at my half-popped eyes and seeing me clutching both my hands together to ensure that the blood vessels inside them don’t snap, asked me if I had cold, if I had head-ache and if I had body-pains. That’s when I said “Ha…bhai…ha”.

It was then that he wished me good morning.

CB Naidu and RS Reddy

This was the latest circular pasted on the notice board of my apartment - "We are unable to provide 24 hr running water since we don't have enough water underground. This is because we did not have enough rains on time and also because we do not have any water-harvesting infrastructure in the complex. We request residents of Srila Towers experienced in water-harvesting techniques to help us design a good water-harvesting system. This project would be started immediately so that we ensure better underground water at least by next summer'.

When Chandrababu Naidu, CB Naidu as he's better known in international circles, was talking about the so called water-harvesting and pushed HUDA to set up regulations to make this compulsory in every structure raising on Hyderabad soil, there was a hue and cry. Now, after CB Naidu was bundled out of the CM's office, people realize the importance of his words.

Technology is not something that caters only to the high-strata of society. The cause of Science and Technology is to make life easier and more enjoyable. Naidu tried to use Information Technology in trying to make varied information accessible to general public, but people were not ready for it. His was a long term plan, which, when allowed to progress the way it has been, would have made life easier for everyone in the State and would also help Naidu increase his personal bank balance ten-fold.

Well, for all those who say, "Naidu was a corrupt politician", please also go on to say if Rajasekhara Reddy is any better. If Naidu is good at making PowerPoint presentations, Reddy is good at shedding tears without glycerin. Maybe he took special training from old NTR, we never know. One of Reddy's statements when in power was that "Naidu is a puppet in the hands of the World Bank". World Bank has been so generous to have funded several projects in AP and has the right to make suggestions and to take actions whenever deemed necessary - whenever it feels that the fund is not being invested the way they would want it to be. And when a suggestion made is cogent and convincing, a wise man always values the suggestion and implements it. Newspapers today reported a statement from Manmohan Singh about Naidu "Naidu has done a good job in some areas and he will always be remembered for that". Please let me know if I am missing something here.

Politicians in India have always been corrupt and upliftment of self will always be prioritized over upliftment of the poor. As a general statement, I support the idea of prioritizing your own development before thinking about developing others. But politicians exploit their position to expedite their development at the expense of other unfortunate sections of society and I don’t think there is any one living, who can provide a solution to resolve this.

I feel that if Reddy is given a chance to enjoy a full term at office, which looks inevitable, he will rollback everything done by Naidu and leave AP the way it was 10 years ago - struggling with extreme financial debt and lack of development. And please do not give me President Abdul Kalam's fascinating speeches. He is doing his job - giving a speech and I am doing mine - writing a blog.

The Cyberabad Police

The Times of India is an interesting newspaper. Highlights the humorous side of human species much better than any other newspapers... the reason, its a hyderabadi paper! True to the word. hyderabadi characters are more caricaturish than anyone else in the world.

Best example... the police. Annoyed that people are giving a damn to them on the road (yes I did last sunday where I jumped red signal and zoomed through on my Activa ;-) even when the cop was helplessly whistling his lungs out), they take revenge, do a two-day exercise shutting down all shops and hotels, the same way viruses crash Windows machines!

Two days down the line, they extend the damn dead-line and take rest. The commissioner gets into the limelight, and cops are happy coz they're getting noticed.

Hyderabadi police might have successfully arrested dancers from pubs and might have managed to have them dance in their offices. But they will surely not be able to control the traffic here. Hyderabad is so unique that people have the traffic sense of Kolkatans and have roads like in California. There's a new entrant in the 'endangered species' list - the hyderabadi doggy. Maneuvering through the rotting corpses of these unfortunate beings during the day time gives you a good idea.

Driving in the night will give you a bad idea instead. Then the rule of majority makes you the unfortunate victim. Dogs will enjoy chasing your a** till you bite the dust. You will not just bite the dust, but will also have to swallow the fact that a few critical bones on your body are beyond broken.

If something of this sort happens, you will get a lot of gawkers and a much needed helping hand is hard to be seen.

Post-script:
The pusillanimous perpetration of the police on the poor public by purging the pubs of pretty phemales is a perfect paradigm for a pitifully petite perspective. Perplexed?

Cribber's Corner

Ahem! I might be kinda cranky in my first blog. Even engines need a few seconds to get their lub system going. Especially if it is the first time the engine chose to start.

For now, I'd want to touch upon my heading.. yeah. The issue about cribbing in the blog. Yes, I understand that it is hard to find a person who'll sit with you and support you while you sit and crib. So, you open a blog account and type out everything and post it on the internet. Is this the way out? All I want to ask is... do you get your piece of peace when you criblog?

No answers yet. Silence. I remember a saying "maunam ardhangikaram". So, I take it that the answer is half-yes. So, without cribbing further, I take it that blogging can be used for cribbing.

And cribbing can be fun when you make it humorous. But since I am feeling sleepy, yeah, dontya see... I am yawning. let me sign off.

Wish me all the best.