If They Were To Meet Again

If they were to meet again
And Yash Chopra was directing it
There would be melodious music and a long Mangeshkar alap
There would be plenty of nostalgic smiling and awkward glances
There would be a strong gush of wind and the Alps at the back
Their spouses would be oblivious and their kids would later fall in love

If they were to meet again
And Mani Ratnam was directing it
She would be crouching under a cloak and the rain would be pelting down
They could be anywhere and still it would look like they were in Kerala
He would be holding a cup of tea with the rain spilling it drop by drop
And they would fall in self-destructive love, all over again

If they were to meet again
And Karan Johar was directing it
He would be wearing rim-less glasses and reading a book in a NY tube
And she would be wearing the same colors as he is, albeit in a new look
And as she enters the tube, a strong wind would blow and she would know its him
And his daughter would have been named after her

If they were to meet again
And RGV was directing it
It would be in a Mumbai local train during the rains
He would be smoking and she would just look at him
The camera would focus on her ample bosom and his ample chest hair
And there would be an old Rangeela song playing at the back

If they were to meet again
And Anurag Kashyap was directing it
He would stumble out of a night club all stoned
And there she would be in all her rambunctious finery
She would look at him, turn around and land a passionate kiss on her new guy
He would fly into a rage and bang this prostitute named Democracy

If they were to meet again
And Sanjay Leela Bhansali was directing it
She would be in her Carter Road penthouse, chilling in a fancy saree
And she would see him by the sea and run to operatic music
With candles and curtains wreaking havoc all over the house
He would ask "Does he make you laugh?" She would say "Doesnt make me cry atleast!"

But he is, as she puts it, a filmi idiot
And none of these things will happen when they meet

They will meet on a hot summer afternoon in a corporate office
She would be in a purple UCB tshirt and he in a light, sky blue shirt
Her crazy hair would have gone berserk with humidity and anger at this city writ large on her face
He would be laughing smugly about something and would fake surprise at running into her
She would talk about her fucked up life and he would show off his latest designation
And then they would part - thankful that it happened and thankful that it ended

The Definitive Hindi Film Heroine Ranking - The Colour Era

While my friends are busy ranking B-schools and FMCG companies, I do the absolutely mundane. Havent seen the Meena Kumari/Suraiya/Madhubala/Nargis era and hence not included them. Click to see a bigger image.

Keralogue

The Kerala-Tamilnadu Border

It took a lot of courage and alcohol to get myself to do this. I went alone on a trip to kerala last april and came back in one piece. I managed to do a lot of writing on the trip. Below is just a sample of what else I managed to do in my 5 days down south.

Munnar

4th april 10:02pm.. I was greeted by showers at the Kochi airport. What better way to be welcomed? The Kochi airport is very old world style. The first sight after I emerged from the plane was an Air Arabia flight. For a state obsessed with the middle east,it was the perfect intro. I had dinner at the airport restaurant which also seemed to be stuck in that same time warp which afflicted the rest of the airport. My biggest challenge here is going to be the language but unlike other southern states the knowledge of English in Kerala is very impressive. I wish I could speak their language as the best way to know the natives better is always in their language. I am now cooped up in a seedy guest house near the Ernakulam bus stand waiting to take the 5am bus to Munnar. No volvos and sleepers, I will be taking the normal state transport bus and it promises to be a great ride. Watching Sachin bat is the best way to end the day in any part of this world. The high elbow six creamed over the covers capped up a very good day 1 for me.  Quotable quotes- when i asked the hotel guy about the bus to Munnar "Munnar you go with ladies, lonely no fun" When bargaining for the hotel rate, the hotel owner asked me where I was from and then came the obvious retort " You get a room in Bombay at this rate? What you are bargaining saaaaar!" Moment of the day : was standing outside the Kochi airport waiting for my bus and I looked around: there was a Mohanlal image in every direction.. Be it for a movie, a jeweller or a political party. The latest movie Mohanlal and Mamooty are coming in is called The King and The Commissioner. Welcome to Mollywood :)

The house I stayed in at Munnar

5th April 6:10pm.. Found just the kind of place I wanted to stay in munnar.. The important thing is it's so quiet I can actually hear myself breathing.. I was watching Russell Crowe playing James Braddock the millionth time today and still it managed to move me to tears.  You know what, for all my lofty plans of writing my ass off on this trip, I'm finding it very difficult to do the sort of writing that can do justice to this place. Like what I usually write is alright for a city life and a social media upload, but I find myself lacking in trying to capture the simple joy I'm experiencing in this silence, this quiet river, this sound of the insects. City life will always be that loud, functional tube light to the romantic yellow light of the hills. I find the yellow lamps very soothing, it purges me of all my misgivings about life. It is very empowering, this taking a trip alone thing. In so many ways it's a metaphor for life. I just hope I become more and more courageous over the next few days.. I take that hiking trip I turned down when offered by Germans staying next door. I try malabar cuisine, and local fruits and rent a bike and learn to ride it as i go. As always there are two guys within me who are fighting.. The accountant and the Mican. One wants to make the most of the 15 grand flight ticket and visit as many places to maximise Roi. The other wants to take it easy, live in the moment, get lost in the bonus round of intoxications that are on offer here.. I guess I'll reach a truce which will please the both in some way. I hope that is the real me. The peacemaker, the mediator between the two. I hope I don't realise at some stage in the future that I'm only one of them, or worse, I'm neither.  It is so wonderful to live in a place where your window doesn't open into a traffic jam. Even better, it opens into a river and a wooded forest beyond it. I will always wonder if a life in Bombay is worth all the sacrifices we make for it.  Ive tried taking pictures to just put up on the blog but I don't think they come even close to what the Dslr toting mbas are photoshopping all over the Internet. while we all try to fictionalise our experiences to make them sound cooler, I just hope we remember what mark twain once said. He said that fact will always be stranger (and by extension, more riveting) than fiction because it does not have the burden of sounding probable. Reminds me of this article by raja sen about sachins career. Every trip I have ever taken in my life has had a theme song. Well, most things I have done in my life have had theme songs. My theme song for this trip is this little gem sung by sd burman in guide. Wahan kaun hai tera, musafir, jayega kahan. it is a timeless song and just goes with a trip of this sort. Standing outside the kochi airport yesterday, just feeling the damp air and how full of possibilities i felt, this song on my phone just made me very very - how do I put it? - well, hrithik-after- the-deep-sea-dive-in-znmd-y. To inherit the legacy of sd and then becoming the legend that is rd, is a huge achievement. One of those times when a Rahul outdid a sachin.  Have you had one of those bus ride where the bus is almost full and you keep hoping the seat next to you is the one that remains empty? Today, on my way to munnar from kochi I managed to be lucky till we reached the base of munnar. And then, in came this burly malayali moustache Pete all in White. He sat next to me and was snoring within 5 mins. Don't get me wrong, I'm a tolerant guy and I can put up with snoring any time of day. But he wasn't done. As we started the ascent, the hair pin curves made him sway wildly and his full weight fell on my poor shoulders. This went on for at least an hour if not more. I kept telling myself it wasn't so bad. But then I started worrying for my dear shoulders and let it rip. He was gone to a different seat in 5 mins. I wonder if this guy was a more angry sort of a person. I wouldn't be typing with both my hands right now then. So you know I am a filmy guy and take films a little too seriously. While watching Cinderella Man today, I kept thinking of the final fight between Braddock and Max as a metaphor for the final fight HT and TOI are fast heading towards in Mumbai, and by extension, the whole country. And what can I say, the underdog won!

One  of the many paths I took - trusting God and Mallu  hospitality

7th April 3:57pm.. Have had the most awesome 2 days of this year. And considering printworks happened this year,that's saying a lot. Yesterday was spent in the midst of acres and. Acres of tea plantations where me and my auto driver indulged is much tomfoolery.. Right from a jo jeeta Wohi sikandar photo shoot to me driving the auto on the winding ghats. I still found time for precious islands of silence and contemplation. What's more, a murder mystery set in the western ghats on the Kerala-tamilnadu border is fast taking shape in my mind. The only thing awesomer than having a great travel plan is to have a great book to go with it. The meaning of sport by Simon barnes is just that kind of book. But the book itself derserves a seperate post.  So today has been a rather eventful day. After traveling by the creaky ksrtc bus for 7 hours,I have left the mountains behind for the gentle sway of the allepey backwaters. Everybody here seems amused by the idea of this chubby little Indian travelling alone and doing honeymooney places like Munnar and Allepey. But as a friend of mine rightly pointed out, this houseboat thing is indeed an experience to be had alone.  The first scene in the fourth estate has Richard Armstrong, media tycoon who had bit off more than he could chew, standing naked at the head of his yacht, his entire life flashing through and then committing suicide after that. If ever I commit suicide,that's how it will be. From something I own,to something only god owns. The greatest thing I have got on this trip is the abundance of silence. All I could hear in Munnar was the mountain breeze and all I can hear here is the benign river.. Playfully swaying my boat and letting my mind lull into a conscious slumber. Nor is the opulence of it all lost on me. To lounge on the upper deck of a houseboat with a chef and a captain doing your bidding all day is a very enjoyable experience. To be dressed in minimal rags, with a beer in hand and pink floyd on the playlist,even more so. I just love the envious looks I sometimes get from husbands on honeymoons. Little do they know that a part of me is envious of them too.

400sqft of luxury and sumptuous sights beyond it - as if nature dressed up specially for me

Dei Dei !!

Mumbai, 2040

A sprawling bungalow in suburban Bandra. Kabir and Aliya are in the vegetable garden, sitting on swings on a pleasant January afternoon. Kabir is busy rolling a joint and Aliya is chatting with her latest boyfriend on her BBM.

Kabir – It was good to meet dada and dadi. We should try and meet some of these people dad asks us to meet sometimes. Dada is a little uptight but dadi is just awesome. Such wonderful tales they have of their times. It seems kinda other-worldly.

Aliya looks up from the BB to put in her two bits

Aliya – Yeah man. Innocent folk too. Quite unaware of what the world is upto. But really good tales.

Kabir – Dude, I think if they had dad’s ability for telling a story, they would be even more interesting than dad. Coz they really have very interesting stories to tell. I mean, just look at those dudes they were talking about. What were their names? Krishna and Ram and Mahavir and what not. Some ancient version of gods it seems. As if we don’t have our share of gods already. What with Sachin and Gandhi and Sarkozy.

Aliya, tying a pony tail with a yellow rubber band

Aliya – What was strange was the extreme reverence they had for them, yaar. I mean, its ok, they were gods and all. But whats the big deal! They are fallible too, right. Like look at Sachin. For all the greatness that dad talks about, he still was involved in that sex racket, right? Doesnt mean he isn’t a god. He was awesome at his work, right? Thats what counts, right?

Kabir, proudly admiring a well-rolled thin, tight joint

Kabir – Ya sis. These gods have some awesome advantages, yaar. Look at the women that Sarkozy bangs even at 80! Iv decided, Im going to do whatever it takes to become a god. I knew about all the fun our gods have had, but look at Krishna dude. He is actually a double god in my opinion. He acts all pious and gives long sermons about moraility like Aamir Khan and then gets all lovey-dovey with gopis in the garden like Shahrukh Khan. Awesome double life, dude! He had the chakra permanently in one hand, i’ll have a joint.

Aliya – Hehe. Such a dumbfuck you are. Becoming a god cant be the ambition. That should be an underlying theme in whatever you do. My ambition is to become a dancer. I will do it so well, that i become a goddess. So being very good at something makes you a god. Look at this Mahavir dude. He knew some 2500 years ago that there are living things smaller than what the eye can see. Now did he find it out coz some hottie whispered it to him in his sleep or he had some extra special microscopic eyes, I don’t know. But he knew something that science could prove only 2000 years later. I mean, thats real pioneering work. Cool dude too. Comfortable in his own skin. Never cared about fashion.

Kabir – Ya, ya. If he were in Bombay today, even he, in all his naked splendour,  wouldn’t be able to put up with this heat. But you are right, in all the stories, one thing that troubled me too was how both the oldies weren’t willing to hear a single bad thing about them. They didn’t like my analysis of how Shive sounded like another Sunny Deol, but with better dancing skills. I mean, come on, both seem to get angry really fast. One beheads his son and the other beheads his brethren. Oh and there was another one – this Ram and Yudhisthir sound like Hank Rearden from Atlas Shrugged – taking the full burden of the family and trying to do what is right. But Hank Rearden sure was nicer to his wife than these two guys. I mean, simply bcoz they are gods doesnt mean everything they do is right!

Aliya, recalling something important – Yaaaa. And thats exactly what I said to granny in the kitchen. And she looked around worried. Asking me if any of the attendents here were affiliated to, what was it?, Shiv Sena or something. Coz if they overhear us, they will get us killed. I was like, dude, dadi must have seen some very disturbed times to experience such paranoia.

Kabir, letting out smoke after taking a deep drag from the doobie – Paranoia is the word! You remember how they reacted when we told them we found this old Krishna sculpture while digging in the neighbourhood garden. They told us some long tale about how once such a thing led to so much bloodshed across the country. I understand if you destroy that Sachin temple in Kolkatta and erect one for Ravindra Jadeja at the same site, the Sachin fan club will be damn pissed. But bloodshed? Riots? Rapes? Thats an old man’s imagination gone wild!  

Aliya smiled – But good stories yaar! Sweet people, both of them. Infact, I wouldn’t mind if for some days they allow them to come meet us instead of dad. It might help them too. Poor things mistake that higher being that made the world for all these gods. I think people become naive as they grow older. Look at dad’s obsession with making money – like thats going to cure us! Hehe. Oh I have to go. Meeting Zooni upstairs for coffee.

Kabir – Ya alright. I am off to offer my daily prayers to Pamela Anderson. By the way, do you think this higher being that made the world would want someone to take over at some point of time? Id like that job.

Aliya – Why would you like to do that? I guess he must be this hairy, pot-bellied, unkempt unshaven guy who sits on his dirty couch having greasy snacks and pints of beer all day – watching his creations bumbling through life. He cant become a god even if he wants to! All he has to do is sit there and laugh at this farce down here.

Kabir – Precisement!

And outside, the madness continued.

Photo source: www.indif.com

A Letter To My 16 Year Old Self - Lessons From Up Here

Smokers and drinkers are not all bad people
They are good people with bad habits
Sometimes, they are also the right people
You pretended when you studied and you pretended when you had fun
All you had to do was not pretend and you would have done much better, chosen much better

You did not let yourself dance enough
You did not let yourself write enough
You did not let yourself play enough
You thought that people would take you seriously coz you took yourself seriously
Well, its laughable to take yourself seriously even at 26, forget 16
It is ok to be arrogant when you have become something
You were arrogant by the thought of what you can become
Well, all you became was a joke

You never loved someone deeply enough
You never experienced hurt, you never experienced pain
You never experienced sleepless nights while she had already moved on to the next in line
You inflicted all of that on someone else

Your obsession with Ayn Rand was like a pimple - which disappears in your 20s
My obsession with Pink Floyd is like the bald spot - it keeps expanding till it takes over your entire head
You wore strange clothes bcoz they were cheap replicas of SRK's last movie
I wear strange clothes bcoz they are what society thinks is in fashion
You got drunk on water and wreaked havoc on the dance floor
I get drunk on  more potent stuff

You played more cricket on the street, I play more Hangman on the ipad
You were a smug asshole for no reason
I am a smug asshole for some reason
You pretended you were in love when you werent
I pretend I am not in love when I am
You lied to exaggerate, I lie to play down
You never traveled the world - you never had the money
I never travel the world - I never have the time

I am still paying for all the relationships you ruined at your age
At an interest compounded daily

You made friends with an agenda in mind
I am befriended with an agenda in mind
You wrote letters when in love and never got replied to
I get replied to but with layers of meaning too difficult to comprehend

And yet, you were nothing compared to me
You were a mere shadow compared to me
Obsessed with all the wrong things
Oblivious of all the right things
You did not see Umang, you did not see MICA

You were the better dancer
You were the better writer
You were the better cricketer
But I am the better you

Hypocrite

So there was this guy
Who loved to work a lot
Because it kept him busy
Too busy to think 'bout what he really wants to do
He was a helluva liar
So he lied to friends, parents and himself
That this was what he was always meant to do..
This "working a lot" thing

But one day something cracked within
He walked into his boss's cabin
And told him exactly what he thought of him
And went back home and told his dad
That he is off to a north-eastern log cabin
He will be back soon - to his prospective jobs and prospective brides
He booked his tickets for the 36 hour train ride
His dad smirked and asked him to book the return for a week later

Now he found his log cabin, overlooking the Teesta
He found good scotch, and a packet of cigarettes
He found pen and paper
He lost his laptop and ipad
He found Gilmour and Lennon and Knopfler
He lost the internet and the TV and the newspaper, even!

And he wrote and wrote and wrote
He wrote through sobriety, drunkenness and stonedness
He wrote through depression and joy and anger
10000 words, 30000 words, 60000 words

6 months passed and the return ticket never got bought
And then one night, he read all that he wrote
He read through that night and day
Then laughed and burnt it all away

He came back and got a "respectable job"
He came back and got a "pretty wife"
And never did anybody know
How those 6 months did go

Rahul Dravid

He must be sitting in his living room watching one of the movies today.
He dare not switch to a news channel.
He is good at this 'not switching to a news channel' thingy.
He has done it at many junctures over the years.
He will have an early dinner and go to bed so that he can hit the gym early tomorrow morning.
Just the way he has been doing for donkeys years now.
He has toned every muscle, every joint, strengthened every sinew over the years.
His high perspiration levels meant he lost water too fast and constantly needed liquids.
Every shot he ever played was practised like a fanatic in the nets.
Every thought process, every reaction to every ball was calibrated to perfection.
There were so many balls played.
In the matches, in the nets, then again in the mind.
There were balls bowled by opposition bowlers, practice bowlers, imaginary bowlers.
And there were millions of cover drives, straight drives, square cuts, on drives, pulls and hooks.
So many that the body knows only that as natural movement, as a general state of being.

There was injury, dejection, failure, match-fixing, loss of captaincy.
But always, there was the next ball to be played.
For a team sport, this was always his own struggle with himself, his asking questions of himself and then answering them.
There were pretty girls, fancy cars, massive endorsement deals.
But always, there was, above all, the next ball to be played.
There were strike rates, run rates, win rates, and all sorts of rates to be worried about.
But there was a bat in his hand and that was all that mattered.
There were stars, egotists, prodigies, megalomaniacs all around him.
But, as always, there was, most importantly, the next ball to be played.

There were numbers which seemed to be going faster than him
And there were numbers which seemed to be going slower than him
But numbers meant little
There was that night at Wellington, that evening at Headingley, that morning at Adelaide
And then there was that heartbreaker at Queens Park Oval Trinidad 2007

No one in his team played bounce was well as him
No one in his team played swing as well as him
No one in his team showed as much improvement in playing spin over their career spans
No one in his team would have dared to take that wicket-keeping job, that opening slot, that declaration call

He has been a fine example of what human endeavour can achieve
He stands for what an ordinarily talented man can make of himself by sheer character
He might well be the only genuinely nice guy of our generation who finished first
He will be one of the very few my child will have to hear a lot about from me when he is born

Tomorrow he will announce the end of it all
Just as has been the case his entire life - he doesnt have much say in this matter either
There might be awards, commentary stints, political rallies, administrative posts
There might be many family outings, annual days, coaching camps, expert interviews, ad campaigns
There might be a prosperous paunch, a fancy estate, a scotch at the end of the day
But there wont be the next ball to be played

Mr Rahul Dravid, some things need to be said even if they have become cliches
You are, to my knowledge, the pinnacle of human ability and enterprise
Id pay to watch you play cricket in your backyard with your son