Fireworks | Mid-night, Mid-week

Time continues to elude. 

While the world fought options, we saw fire work its magic. 

On Dussehra this year the cosmic powers that be, perhaps, rejoiced the return of one of their own. 

Steven Paul Jobs lived the life of a creator in his very own right. One of the few who transcended the boundaries of art and science and was pivotal in bringing the two together. A man singularly responsible for making the color white chic and simultaneously making "i" synonymous to all things intuitive. 

Rest in peace, the one who lost but one battle.

Some moments here: Fire works @ midnight .

Kaka Quote: For we may live in a world full of 'options', but rarely do we have a 'choice'.

Bests,

Review Kaka 

ChaoticOrder: Shahjahanabad

While the will to write stays, the time for same eludes. 

 

The fascination with miles, pebbles and the tarmac continued over the weekend. 

Find some snippets here (ChaoticOrder: Shahjahanabad) and let me know what you thought of it. 

-

Bests,

ReviewKaka

And the road comes free...

(Riverful of night sky - II)

Twenty five years, is a lot of time. That's exactly the number of years I have been around for. Perhaps we've met. Now, I am not, what one would call the "well-traveled", but over the years, travelling with friends, family and by self - I have learnt a thing or two. Two. The two facets of travelling, as per me, and essentially, as for me. One, all that exists by the road - the views, the works..., and then, The Road. My fascination with the latter, possibly the most under-commemorated thing ever made by man, continues - and grows, unexplained, till date. 

Travelling on the road through the hills and valleys of Ladakh, perhaps for the first time, I began to think, or I think I began - my fascination for The Road.

Reflections, by the Road

Ladakh is a painted landscape, only, in motion, dazzling you with an impressive Dali here and a Monet there. The monasteries, that dot the landscape, stand with a quaint spirit of timelessness. If you've had the good fortune to see the 'World of Albert Kahn', Ladakh might just come across to you as a living, breathing autochrome. Anachronism is a concept lost in Ladakh, for all that ever existed is now. From people to places, thatched huts to the palaces - all defy time in ways their own, one moment at a time.

This is where, you could wake up everyday, day after day, and live the same day - all over again, a la Groundhog Day. I can't say, at least for now, if I'd want an out. May be. But not just now.

As you go along the road - you'd see glimpses of everyday valiance. For these are harsh terrains, and some battles are fought everyday. What Sun Tzu, did not give the world was the art of the everyday battle. Perhaps it has been lying, scattered, somewhere by the road, for centuries. Waiting to be compiled and compartmentalized.

And then, somewhere by the road, you would see the wisdom of centuries. Centuries, compiled and  compartmentalized, neatly in red. I ain't no dharma-bum, yet was happy to know that in these places they've let God be.

Days to centuries. Dust to dust, ashes to ashes.


Snaking our way to Kargil, through the cold inhabitable desert, sometimes, the road was the only sign of any human connection the place has had. The roads here, so I've been told, do not get washed away, in-spite of the extreme weather. An art which other, more developed, cities have not yet learnt.

The war memorial at Kargil brought back some memories and mixed feelings. While the fervor was palpable, so was the sheer disappointment in the establishment.

'War is young men dying, and old men talking', centuries after Achilles was told this, I felt the chilling accuracy of the statement, in all its brutality, while seeing the names and pictures of the soldiers martyred in another war, the world could have done without. Operation Vijay.

Take a bow here. Thank, and take a moment to think before you hit the road again.

The road ahead leads us to 'the valley'. Few years back, I wondered (here) if fighting for Kashmir, still holds any value for India and should we not simply let Kashmiris decide the fate that beholds the land. I was young, and like all people young, swayed and foolish. While I still do not agree with the policies which originate from New Delhi's Lutyenian elites, I stand firmly by the view that Kashmir is an indispensable part of our nation.
We spent a day in Srinagar, where people were as welcoming as the Hazratbal dargah.

                                       











A major part of the time in Srinagar was spent on the deck of the houseboat, playfully named Khilona. Khilona stays by the banks of the Nageen lake. We spent our time watching the smokes rise up. Watched as the night bled a purple haze. There were reflections from the road.

Reflections, on the Road

Why do I like the road? Perhaps, for it is the perfect companion. When you pay for the spirit, the road comes free. It may not belong to you - but, it will let you own it. It shall, or let you believe that it shall, long for you. You ain't the well heeled traveler, for you are just the wanderer, yet the road says it sees no difference.
In these funny mobius strip ways of my world, the road, becomes the sanctum sanctorum.

And when all is said and all is done, take a final look at the road. For that's whence I heard the words  - where next?

Riverful of night sky - I

Tripping down the memory maze,

Memories of that Shpongled gaze.

Days shone eternal bright, infinite them

revelations,

Dagger on the moon, nights bled purple perceptions.

Their spirits sublime with memoirs of the war,

Saw brimming pride, felt the fervor raw.

In the riverful of night sky, I saw stars rain,

How, when I waked I yearned to dream again.

For some are truly lost and some wanderers in fairness,

Alas, again, forever - I've been a fool for randomness.

______________________________________________

Now, for aeons, boys and men, of my generation, have grown to believe that the worlds greatest mountain range belongs to Belluccistan. I know a few who swear by the magnificence of the city of Malena. Ladakh, Leh'd all those claims to rest.

Ladakh, perhaps for the want of a better word, can only be described as 'pristine'. Pristine, not in the usual connotation given to the word, of the delicate, pure and untouched. But rather, pristine, in a way, and so I guess, only Ladakh can be - by being at the cusp of the delicate and the rugged. Not in a hyphenated, afterthought way, where one realm ends making way for the other, but in a juxtaposition where both exist at their very prime, forceful in their presence with the presence of each accentuated by the adjacent contrast.

This space has been my ranting board for quite a few things and a journey has never been one. There is a first for all things. And Ladakh is all about the journey, for no matter where you reach - you would be in the middle of the most picturesque routes of your life, for most part. "But no matter, the road is life.", immortal words from Kerouac resonate throughout these vast stretches, or at least in my head.

One of the meanings, to the word "destination", is "the ultimate end or purpose for which something is created or a person is destined". Perhaps, to that end - Pangong was my destination. If getting lost into the vast oblivion were a religion, this is where I'd come for my pilgrimage. I will. For this is where nothing and everything makes sense. For this is where nothing is not just something worth doing, its something worth being. For this is where being and becoming, converge. For this is truly, beyond. A meta-dimension.

(To be continued... )

Logorama

(image: http://walyou.com/futuristic-brand-computer-keyboard-design/)

We live brands.

Debate as much you want, but this is the truth. And no, the post is in no convoluted way deriving from statistics establishing an obscure number of brands we inadvertently use as part of our urban living, every single day. Neither is this an attempt to give you a peek into the Hermes, LVMH powered super luxe life, a-la Vir Sanghvi. The brands, I here refer to, are the plethora that have an omnious presence and recognition, across economies and geographies.

While I extend my 'full-spirited' and 'absolute' support to Naomi Klein for most part of her No Logo campaign, I cannot refute the fact that I love advertising. Perhaps a few decades down the line, they shall refer to this ideological irony as the "Kaka Paradox". Simplified obfuscation ;)

What prompted this advertising-brands-movies rigmarole on a peaceful saturday morning, you ask. The answer lies in this piece here.

Titled Logorama, this short movie (16 minutes) takes the concept of movies based around a brand, like say BMW Movies, a step further - giving you a movie about brands. Thanks, in no small measure, to a constant diet of american sitcoms and Hollywood, these essentially american brands could cut the recognition ice with people from Atlanta to Delhi, alike.

In itself, the global recognition of these essentially american brands/logos is like a lab demonstration of a flattening world, or a classic case study of the american cultural imperialism; whichever side of the coin you chose to look at.

Sub-texts aside, I liked this movie and loved the execution, right to the very end with I don't want to set the world on fire by the Ink Spots playing through credits.

Enjoy your break.

-

Love,

Review Kaka

ZNMD: The Rat-pack's coming of age...

With a little bit of artistic liberty and a flight of imagination, one might say this cinematic season in India has been dedicated to celebrating the Indian rat-pack. Some might disagree with the observation and purists might scoff at the thematic semblance I choose to draw with the timeless but quintessentially American legend.

That is where I drop the intellectual subterfuge :) and get right back at the business of discussing the movie that it was!

Looking at the lineup of movies remaining for the year, I believe ZNMD was the perfect finish to the riot that started with Pyaar Ka Punchnaama, carried a notch or two higher with Delhi Belly, and then peaking with Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara.

So here's what you ideally should know even before you set out for the movie:

a) "Trader", in the rich man in London/NY scheme of things, is not your regular trader. In the hierarchy of the filthy rich men in the financial world, traders one-up the fabled i-bankers and on good days can make the latter look like underpaid overworked slaves. Liars Poker, will give you an ample insight. (Appeal: Someone snitched my copy sometime last year. Please return, no questions asked. Just remember, karma is a bitch.)

b) We are all fools when young. Some fall for the wrong girls, some fall for the wrong girl their friend falls for. And yes, then, some - take sides. Much worse than the previous two - because, hey at least they had a whole lot of fun! Thomas Moore, did a lot more than poetic justice, while writing this piece.

c) Lastly, a loosely borrowed and slightly doctored idea, which I agree with - no matter how ugly or poor you already feel, there is a director at work somewhere, slowly and painstakingly plotting a scheme with a single aim: to make a film that makes you feel more so.

The Plot

Set in the familiar territory of college friends, caught in myriad mundane roles, coming together to relive life, through a few memorable days in guise of a bachelor party. And when money, like it never is in movies, is not a constraint - the locales are bound to be exotic, the bachelor pad has to be luxurious, with a view and lastly, an instructor - who is Katrina Kaif (need i say more?).

In a setting so flawless, not much can go wrong. What sets the movie apart from the run off the mill bachelor party saga, is the purpose. And 'face your fears', did not sound like a bad one. So you have deep-sea diving, sky diving and running of the bulls thrown in.

The Sub Plot

The sub plots for the movie were presented through the internal turmoils of the three protagonists. While they all had their fears in the worlds outside - of water, heights and of course, dying, the conquests of which form the larger plot. The internal conflicts set the stage for the subplots. The collective fears, carved immaculately and ingrained within the characters - make for a well rounded story, with depth.

Here's my theory about a set of three friends: Pick up any set of three friends and you will have a) the "Uptight"; b) the "Nice guy" doing the only thing he knows to do: be nice; and c) the "Joker". The Joker and the Uptight shall, for the very virtue of their characters, have conflicts.

From the epochal DCH to the current ZNMD, the theory has withstood the test of time for the very simple reason: art imitates life.

True to the master plot - Hritik plays the Uptight, Farhan the Joker and Abay the Nice guy.

The High Point(s)

There are a few combinations that spell synergy. Singularly good, but outstanding when clubbed with a certain element. Rehman rendering his voice to some of his songs is one. Javed Akhtar writing poetry for son Farhan's movie is the other. The poetry written by Javed Akhtar and voiced by Farhaan is definitely one of the high points.

The other strength lies in the stunning photography stamping its brilliance throughout the movie. The sweeping panoramic shots used to capture the scenic landscape of the spanish countryside are complimented by the intense close-ups. Add the two points - and you get the sequence that stands out in the movie, at least for me.

I strongly recommend the movie, for it marks the rat pack's coming of age. In Indian cinema, on the silver screen and of course in my mind. For someday, life shall imitate art.

-

ReviewKaka.

Delhi Belly: *Punch Drunk Love*

I promised a counter-view to A's take on Waking Life. As much as I hate procrastinating, I shall hold my guns for some time. The real challenge for now: Delhi Belly.

To the angst and disbelief of many-a-parents, we did not find the movie obnoxious and yes (if not all) some/most of it is true.

Right on the heels of Pyaar ka Punchnaama, we knew AmirKhan Productions really had to pull out a rabbit from the hat to keep the BoxOffice score-sheet divided between AamirKhan Productions and everything else. And a rabbit he pulled. Not just any rabbit, but an all singing, all knowing, all dancing - king rabbit, but disguised cleverly and mischievously. But yes, we all laughed, and all who laughed knew the mischief.

As for me, as I sit down to write this piece, after watching the movie for the second time in the first week, the real challenge lies in how to stay true to the experience and treat that it was, without indulging in ravings about Poorna Jagannathan and my oft-declared-in-the-past-week love for her.

I shall try.

I remain assured that you, the rare and precious reader of this obscure piece on the web, have already seen the movie. I shall not, even momentarily or customarily, assume that you have come here without having already seen the movie.

Instead, I dedicate this piece to celebration of all things that end well. A celebration that lasted a good 4 hours past the movie, with laugh riots and DK Bose jokes filling the air :)

For me personally, it marks a rare departure from - you know they should have killed that central guy/character in the end. I liked the movie in-spite of all characters kept alive. Though that is not to say I wouldn't have liked it dark, Mithya being the point of reference.

As promised, earlier, I will not even pretend that I am reviewing something. I will just share the things I loved the most. To begin with - Poorna J, as Maneka. Correspondent with the Times of India in Delhi. Single, divorced, pretty and charming.. um errr.., Yeah and there are other good things too - the music from Ram Sampath (I hear a friend say he is quite a popular name in the Indian rock circuit.., I will take his word for it). The music is indeed, a surprisingly strong part, inspite being goofy, all the tracks make for good listening. Personal favourites being Jaa Chudail

and Tere Siva. The latter for quite obvious reasons. The tag line of the movie "shit happens" quite succinctly describes the plot and somewhere 20 minutes before the climax you could sense that all roads from here on lead to a shootout at an everybody-meet-everybody else scenario. But as I said earlier, the rabbit out of hat this time around is a clever rabbit and the movie stands apart. Vijay Raaz with his 'ever so pure' dialogues delivered with the 'ever so pure' mannerisms singularly holds the greys of the film and imparts just the right amount. I remember Monsoon Wedding, and I remember Vijay Raaz from Monsoon Wedding - he was good then and has only gotten better since then.

The surprise element of the movie though is Poorna J.

I remember watching DCH in my early teens and I remember walking out of the movie theater feeling 'punch-drunk-love', for the first time. It was Ms. Zinta then. More then a decade and some 50 odd movies later, I walked out of another theater, quietly smiling to myself as I quietly updated the mental status to 'punch-drunk-love'. It must have been a good movie.

I conclude wishing you all an equally joyous experience.

PS: Inspite of probably knowing the entire existing readership of this space by first name and the last, I still pray that Poorna stumbles upon this post. So at the cost of sounding like a eff-ing irritating chain mail, may I request you to please help spread the word and pass on the link to 10 people. After all its just six degrees of separation :)

Cheers,

ReviewKaka