83- A nation inspired

 

The movie about India's cricket world cup victory was released last week after much anticipation of a good part of 2 years. Needless to say, it did live up to the hype. It’s a story well told of how a young inexperienced leader managed to inspire his team of veterans and rookies to perform above and beyond what they could, to earn a sensational victory in England after beating a condescending English media and a mighty West indies team.

We may think it was all about the game of cricket. But in all honesty, as a nation it changed our attitude towards life. A rebuilding nation, hungry, desperate for parity with the rest of the world. Tired of tyranny and disrespect from the upper echelons. for the Baby Boomer Generation and Gen X a glimmer of hope and a subtle change of attitude which even they did not realize. it would take another few decades for South Asia to understand what 1983 meant. I am including India's neighbors because it is fair to share the joy with our neighbors. Just because some of our neighbors don’t like us, we have to reciprocate in kind with the hope that they will come around. I digress…………back to 83 the movie. What happened at Tunbridge wells in the match against Zimbabwe, where a young captain, burdened with carrying the team, against all odds, played the game of his life to turn things around, was long overdue. I am glad it was delivered to us by a man who worked his butt off to get where he got. A simple, lovable soul that’s all I can say. I don’t know him personally. In fact, he himself admits going into a trance and not realizing the amazing feat he achieved. it can be compared to the New England Patriots team down 3-28 in the middle of the third quarter, coming back and beating the Atlanta Falcons to win Superbowl.

I am sure the movie will be a commercial success. There is enough Bollywood spice added for good measure. However, the message if you can read between the lines is loud and clear. we have broken free from the shackles of compliance and self-doubt. Yes, that's what the western colonialism wanted us to remain in.  we broke out of the rooster coop(paraphrasing from Aravind Adiga's book).

As a 20-year-old young man, I watched the motorcade carrying the victorious Indian team go by standing outside Mahim church and caught a glimpse of a few players including Kapil with his trademark grin. Little did I know what he did on June 18, 1983 in Neville Ground of Tunbridge wells will inspire a whole nation to aspire for more. Almost 40 years later, if you connect the dots, many of us achieved the heights that we yearned for and millions of us are marching towards the goals that they set for themselves. and for that I salute our captain Kapil Dev Nikhanj for his contributions and inspiration.

"The heights by great men reached and kept were not attained by sudden flight, but they, while their companions slept, were toiling upward in the night."- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

White Tiger - Movie Review

 

 White Tiger - Not a review just an opinion!

• Have you experienced poverty? hunger? discrimination? frustration? homelessness? despair? loneliness? hopelessness? harassment?
• Have you cursed and screamed at no one in particular on top of your voice with your windows rolled up?
• Have you said yes/no when you really wanted to say no/yes because of the consequences that could follow?
• Have you walked around aimlessly and felt helpless to the point that you thought life is not worth living?
  

If you have answered yes to one or more or all of these questions........you could relate to the character Balram in the movie - White Tiger. I am not going to review it here because it is best if you see it, experience it and become it in some way or the other. I have watched it about 4 times now and I know I will be watching it again. Partially because it stirs some memories in my subconscious mind, mostly because Adarsh Gaurav, who played the protagonist in the movie gave a performance of his life to do justice to Balram. You can pause the movie every 2 minutes and think about the situation and see if you could relate.
It is assumed that the story is about the Rich, poor, deplorable caste system, subservience, etc. What I learned from this brilliant creation of  was much more than that. When the credits roll you can tell the rest of the cast, director, and all the details. Sure everyone gets credit for a movie so well made...especially Ramin Bahrani. But Adarsh carried the movie on his young shoulders. One of the most powerful dialogues in the movie is when Balram is wondering to himself about his relationship to his master, Ashok- "Love in the pretext of loathing or loathe in the pretext of loving" it hits a nerve.

A place to call home...

 

In the 70's and 80's thousands of people from all over India left their small towns and villages and headed to Bombay to find work or in some cases pursue education. Yours truly included. Bombay was a big city then, but not the metropolis that it has become now. I do realize that depending on need, change is inevitable, and the city must make adjustments; therefore, the skyscrapers, malls, and other infrastructure changes to accommodate. However, I do miss the small town feel of the 80s when I visit.

 

So the question is, where do all these people who arrive find shelter- a place to call home, sleep, feel safe and be comfortable? Not sure about now, but back 30+ years ago there were Paying Guest accommodations, room rentals, bed rentals and many other creative way people found a place to live. And, there were working women and men’s hostels. I happened to live in one of those "hostels" conveniently located between Hill Road and Turner road, close to Bandra station. I am going to leave out the specifics to maintain anonymity to respect the privacy of the kind gentleman and his family who provided me a place to live when I was desperate. Although, I am sure somebody here may be able to figure out exactly who/where I am talking about.

 

My Landlord was a kind, reasonable, broadminded, no-nonsense kind of person who managed to house  30-40 young men, some of them rambunctious with gentle authority. The rooms were clean, with a window, so fresh air, common bathroom and facilities with running water and showers(which was a luxury). there was no rulebook, only unwritten rules- respect one another, be kind and don’t interfere in anyone’s business if they didn’t want you to. He would occasionally come check on us, but never asked questions or interfered unless there was a reason. As long as the rent was paid on time and you minded your own business there was no problem. He also realized that we were grown men and sometimes friends would visit, it was never an issue as long as it was within reasonable hours. Anyone testing the limits was dealt with firmly and in a manner that others would not even know there was any kind of trouble. When I had an issue with my room, he assured me that as soon as another one is available, I can move there( and I did), I was pleasantly surprised when I got employed by an international airline, he was one of the first ones to congratulate me. His family too was very kind. Eventually, when I moved out, I was apologetic, but he was gracious and remember him staying- " I don’t expect you to live here forever, everyone has to move on and someone else will take your place”. A logical response.

 

Needless to say, I have to say I was lucky to be staying at a prime location, paying reasonable rent,be able to get a good night’s rest, and be a "Bandra boy" even if it was for a couple of years. I have stayed in places where the landlord would raise rent without notice, be abusive and unreasonable, sometimes even evict you without reason.

Mumbai meri jaan ( Mumbai, my love)

 Mumbai is a city of/for dreamers- dream big and reach for the stars. and when you make it big, don’t forget the path you took and where you came from.
My life in Mumbai can be compared to an Andheri local. I have lived in rented beds(yes beds, not a room or a flat) in chawls in Colaba, Flora Fountain, Dadar,Vile Parle, and Andheri and PG digs in Bandra and Andheri. the first 3 years I lived in Catering college( IHMCTAN-Respect!!) hostel in Dadar which was comfortable. Since it was a college preparing us to work in hospitality industry.we (students) cooked and ate what we cooked which was less than desirable. Healthy wholesome food, as the menu was designed and prepared towards nutrition, but taste.....left a lot to be desired. the refuge was vada pao with lasoon chutney at Shivaji Park(which was a staple every evening-cheap and filling), potato toast at Greens restaurant(near Shivaji Park) and when I could afford it maybe a chinese fried rice at Sanmaan near Shivaji park or a Thali at Sujatha Udipi. the first year was tough as I was perpetually broke living on meagre allowance that came from home. Starting the summer of 1981, I started earning some money on the side waiting tables and working banquets. just enough for an occasional indulgence in lifes little luxuries. yeah turning 18 introduced me to some minor vices. on weekends we took the BEST bu 83 or 84 to south Bombay to watch movies at Metro, Eros, Regal, Strand et.al.
Now you might think someone who goes to Catering college would end up in ritzy and glamorous 5-star hotels. Sure, it could be true in some cases. for all the razzmatazz that’s visible from outside, the people who work behind the scenes toil an average 12 hours a day, which pays meagre wages (this is the 80s, not sure about now). Management will suck every bit out of you. The motto was "guest is always right". Gulp, even if the guest is berating you for no fault of yours? Service industry has double standards and it sucks.
Bombay of the 80s was a small town. it’s not the city with mega malls and skyscrapers that it has become today (change is inevitable, but call me a romantic, I miss the small-town feel when i visit). no matter where you are from, everyone was welcome (well-almost everyone). If you can make it here, you can make it anywhere (another cheesy cliché). I worked for an upscale hotel in South Bombay which had a revolving restaurant, Bombay Gymkhana and Air-India before I decided to risk it all and venture out overseas. the owners of Ambassador had a nice looking German car( again, this is 80s, it must be a common thing now) which he would park in front, I would look at and wonder- would I ever be able to take a ride in something like this? 10 years later I owned one similar in a different land- dreams do come true.
Anyone remember Gemini, Gaiety Galaxy? I remember watching Rajesh Khanna's "red rose" in one of those in my first week in Mumbai. There was an Irani restaurant in Khar-Danda, where sometimes I ate with my cousin.  I had just learned to eat with a spoon and fork in Catering college, to show off my newfound skills, I asked the waiter for Kanta (fork), he brings me- Kanda, onions. I am learning quickly- it is baida not anda,batata not alu, and so on.
1986 was a special year because after living for a few years in dark, dinghy, humid, squalid conditions(again, I am always thankful, I had a roof over my head, never had to sleep on the sidewalk, God’s grace) i was actually able to rent a room in Hill Road Bandra with a friend and co-worker. running water, fresh air, proper bed and clean surroundings, it was like coming out of prison and feeling free. Anyone remember Casbah? Beer and mystery meat kababs? Once I got food poisoning and was down for a week. but did that stop me no... went back for more. cast iron stomach. Also, I finally felt a sense of belonging. I was truly happy, a little less insecure, and like any young blood, I felt I could make a difference and change the world. A special person who hopped on my Andheri local and stayed a while before hopping off may have something to do with it. I digress.
I have fond memories of Asiatic dept store, AkbarAllys, Sahakari bhandar, Sundance Cafe, Satkar, Lucky Biryani, Sayba Gomantak (Bandra),the list is endless... ( are they still around?)
Anyone remember Talwalkar's gym at Charni road? I went there for a few months. the trainer took one look at my scrawny physique and said you work out here every day and have a beer after-"body ban jaayega" . I left Mumbai in 1992 as a lean, mean hungry dog. today I am a lazy fat cat.

Platform surfing- circa 1986

 Platform surfing- circa 1986

If you are a Mumbaikar- chances are you have traveled by local train- western or central- don’t matter.
You have heard about train surfing where people are traveling on top of the train and precariously balancing so not to get electrocuted.
I am going to talk about platform surfing.....wonder what that could be? I shall explain..
Most hotel/restaurant workers toil 6 days a week, sometimes 7 if there is a need. Typical routine for a suburban resident working in Churchgate area establishments (or elsewhere) is to wake up hung over (not everyone, maybe some of the young and restless :-)). Now there is a mad rush to make it to work at 11.30am. This applies to people who work break shift. Lunch serving hours - 11.30a to 3.30p, Dinner - 6.30p to 12.30a. if you are lucky you got the full 3 hours of break…….anyways…
So, making it to work at 11.30am…... You take a balti bath or shower, find the cleanest clothes available and try to catch the bus or auto rickshaw to train station. Say if you are living in Bandra W and as soon as you enter it is Platform 1, and the churchgate fast ( bandra-dadar-bombay central- churchgate) arrives on platform 4. you have 2 choices, take the stairs with the sea of people or "Platform Surf". This takes pin point precision in many ways – 1. you dont want to be hit by a train, 2. you dont want to get caught doing it, 3. you dont want to get your hand or clothes dirty.
Lemme explain..As soon as you arrive at platform 1 look at the display for the arrival of churchgate fast on platform 4. now scan for trains arriving on platforms 1.2 and 3. If the coast is clear, take the last drag of your cigarette and toss it J, Jump off to the tracks on platform 1 and like a Derby horse take perfect strides to leap on to platform 2. You are halfway. Now look both sides on 3 and 4 and jump down from 3 and leap on to 4. Perfect 10, you nailed it. Now if you are blessed with long legs, chances are you can do this every single time and have no stains/rips on either your clothes or your hand. But for someone who is of a shorter stature ( wink-wink) unless you are really athletic, chances are you either end up putting you hands on the filthy platform floor or extending your arm for a stranger to pull you up ( props to mumbaikars, no one ever refuses.......now you know why I love mumbai.....the camaraderie and kinship..) I have been on the embarrassing end of this many a times, but once or twice a week....I found success.....small victories 🙂.
After work there is this mad rush to catch the 1 am Borivli local home. on a few occasions I have over-slept and missed my stop and ended up in Borivli yard. then to jump off the train and catch the all night bus from Borivli back to where I can catch a few hours of good sleep. only to repeat the same routine over……...

 

An Unsung Hero : Padmakar Shivalkar

One of the best left arm spinners who never played for India was Padmakar (Paddy) Shivalkar. Being a contemporary of Bishan Bedi, he never made the team. One could make an argument that having him in the team instead of E Prasanna would have made a difference.  Don’t want to get into the politics of a bygone era, but….  As a child, I was a sports enthusiast and needless to say a big fan of Shivalkar. Year after year, I would hope that he made the team, but it wasn’t meant to be.  A humble soul and a great cricketer!

 

 

 Mumbai- Lonely amongst a sea of people...

 

A city of opportunities. A city of dreamers, A city where dreams become reality. A city for families, for youngsters, for old, for the people who love life and  nightlife, for the hardworking and the smartworking, and also for the ones who preferred solitude. One could fall in to some of these categories, one or all of these categories. I was a hard worker, may be not very smart and for most part I liked my own company. I didn’t have many friends, still don’t. I don’t have a dislike for people but I preferred to be alone.

Taking you back to the mid 80's again. the Mumbai I love and cherish and time stands still. Working long hours in the service industry did not allow much breathing room. Once a week on my day off, it would be washing clothes, giving what cannot be washed at home to the Dhobi and either going to the nearest Udupi restaurant for a leisurely breakfast with the day’s newspaper, mostly scanning for what is a movie to watch that afternoon. There was a small nook in AkbarAlly's in Fort where they would sell espresso and snacks. it was a small bar counter with a couple of bar stools. I would sit there for hours having an omelet and sipping coffee reading newspapers and doing the daily crossword puzzle. In the afternoon, catch a matinee, mostly to sit in air-conditioning, many a times, I would go to sleep and wake up at the end of the movie. Sometimes the best sleep I have got. Of course, the bugs would feast on my arms and I have to go get boroline or caladryl to stop the itchiness. but that was never a deterrent. it was a part of life. Evenings I would head to Mahesh Lunch home ( it wasn’t that famous then) or another restaurant for a beer or two or a quarter of Old monk with thums up. and of course some dinner. Once in a while I would go to "Cannon" pao bhaji near VT where you stood around a stall and ate. It was so good there was a line behind you, after you finish your meal, you fall out so the next person can take your place. Walking past all the illegal stalls selling smuggled good near VT, the sad faces of ladies of the night waiting for customers, street pharmacist selling their stuff, making it back to the dinghy room with no window or fan to settle for the night... tomorrow is another day.

Loved walking up and down marine drive, sits on the tetrapods, and gaze at the ocean. watching Arab tourists tossing coins at beggars and waking away indifferently. Sometimes I would go over to fashion street( across from Eros and the moved to across from Bombay Gymkhana) and buy export reject clothes at throw away price. of course you have to bargain.

Leopoldo cafe and another place that I have been many a few times . it was fascinating to see so many Caucasians in one place. Listen to them and trying to understand what the heck they were saying. It was hard to tell Eastern Europeans from Americans or any other part of the world, they all looked and sounded the same.

Thinking back one thing that I didn’t notice then but realize now is the people, there were people everywhere, no matter what time of the day it was or where you went. So much energy and adrenaline that you could feel it and then you become it.

I have seen many like me in the course of the time, sitting alone and drinking, watching the one movie that the restaurant plays all night, walking aimlessly, forlorn look on their face, migrant workers probably missing their families, hoping for a better tomorrow or waiting for the next big break......

Wear a mask, save yourself and save others. Peace

 

Stumbling through life..

As a child growing up, I dreamed of becoming a physician, going to a fancy college in London ( don't know why, maybe because that was the only city that I knew of- after all British had ruled us for over 200 years and I was born in the 60's  a few years after they left) and becoming a fellow at FRCS ( fellow of Royal college of physicians). That dream did not realize due to family constraints. I happened to stumble into newspaper ads for Hospitality management courses in colleges which were out of town. Did not want to take the normal route that most of my schoolmates took, so I applied and got into hospitality management school.

After finishing 3 years of college in HM, my course in life was set to pursue a career in catering industry when I again stumbled into an ad for a major airline seeking flight attendants. thought I will give it a shot even though I did not have a personality for a FA. Surprise, surprise after a 2 year long interview process... I became a FA.

This is it I am going to be a FA for life....or that's what I thought.... 4 years later I stumble into another opportunity to go live in the land of milk and honey.....yep... I did....happily tossed the comfy FA job aside and landed in NY back in hospitality....only to be disillusioned and disappointed. Stumbled into someone who was a Computer Systems Engineer at Columbia Pictures. That laid a thought in my head and head and slept on it for a while. Took some introductory Computer classes and before I know it I was a IT professional. During this time I also stumbled into someone who helped me move to Toronto,  3 years later.......I was a Canadian.

the best of it is yet to come.... I answered a phone call from a young lady who lived in Chicago, as luck would have it, met her a few months later and 11 days later we were married. That was it. Rest of my life was some what planned ahead and there were no major stumbling... or is there? only time will tell.

23

What does 23 mean to you? Michael Jordan wore #23, Don Mattingly wore #23 in his 14 years as a Yankee. 23 is a significant number for me for a different reason. For me, 23 is a state of mind, perhaps my favorite age, so much that deep inside my heart I still feel like a 23 year old. why? it was coming of age for me...in a way...for all my insecurities, shortcomings, I experienced my first few successes at the age of 23... the sweet smell of success, power, love, I got a small taste of it at 23. that is when I realized that even my life is meaningful. My existence has a purpose. I too can make a difference in this world even if it in a small way.

The light at the end of the tunnel was non existent till I actually thought of the tunnel and started visualizing the tunnel and a slight flicker of a light. God works in strange ways, first it was the Wednesday novenas at the Mahim Church, which led to membership at Gym, a mystery lady who came into my life, managerial position at Kumariyas Hotel, the power and perks :-) that came with it, feeling of being wanted, loved, falling in love. If I were a junkie, it could be stated as my first high from my first hit. it was exhilarating and euphoric. it was happening too fast and just like new money ( people who have financial windfalls and do not know how to handle it), it all went down the tube within a matter of time. So.......23 was good.....24 was bad. But it was a building block on which I learned my lesson and build for years to come.... come to think of it I am still building...the light is shining ever so bright. 

The Angst of a teen...

I was walking home one day from the grocery store when I was surrounded by a bunch of bullies in the 'hood. They started calling me names typically reserved for South Indians like anna, Madrasi, idli sambar, annadurai etc. then things got rough. one of them pee'd on my slippers (flip- flops) and feet. Being timid, tiny, weak and scrawny I had no courage to fight back. Luckily, the groceries in my possession was spared, else it would be spanking at home too. I walked home crying after the ordeal was over, really angry and wanting to go home grab my belt come back and beat up the bullies. I never did... did not have the balls to go out there and fight for my pride. This was 40 some years ago.

Today, my teenaged son is going through the same pain... of being bullied. However, he has the courage to come home and talk to me and his mom and we try to find some resolution together. Back when I was in that stage, I felt talking to my parents was pointless as nothing really came out of it. My boy is not like me, he is has a good head on his shoulders, can reason out most things, but face it , he is 13, it is going to get to him sometime or the other, a kid can take only so much. The bullies haven't changed; they attack his ethnicity and try to get under his skin. He remains calm and composed as verbal or physical altercations in school can lead to detention and other penalties. My advice to him is simple, stay strong, ignore and they will go away and eventually stop bullying. They lack confidence, feel inferior and are compensating by directing their frustrations on someone who is successful.

It is up to us the parents to reassure kids and make them look at the good and ignore the bad. It is really important for parents to be really involved in their kids’ lives, no matter how much they dislike it. Engage them in conversations, get to know what is going on in school, in their lives is really important. Ask questions and answer questions, no matter what the topic is. Especially sex. Trust me, if you have a teen with raging hormones, it is normal at that age. They have questions that need to be answered. It is better you be proactive and educate them or they will learn it from the streets which is wrong. Don't be embarrassed to discuss openly about sex, drugs, alcohol or anything that you can think of what you had on your mind, when you were a teen.

While in middle school and high school, I had this humongous crush on my classmate who was also lived in my neighborhood. Needless to say, I ate, dreamed, and slept with thoughts of her on my mind. But I was scared and apprehensive to approach her or any other girl for that matter. To make matters worse, growing up in a lower middle class family was no fun. My clothes were either too big or too small. Tending to our 2 cows was one of my primary jobs after school. Also making cow dung cakes for fuel. Many a times, she would be in the vicinity while I was performing these chores. That was so uncool. But I had no choice, had to do it. Looking back, I chuckle and shake my head. I love animals and outdoors. I thank my parents for that.

Guess what, my older boy has developed a liking towards this schoolmate and he has openly expressed it to us. I tried to explain that, it is normal and natural to feel that way at this age or any age. I also said that the other person may not feel the same way so be prepared for any kind of setback, he thought about it for a while and was cool with it. We are so proud that our kids can openly talk to us about their feelings and ask for our opinion. But being a 13 year old is not easy; school, peers, media, society in general has expectations of how one carries oneself.  If you are different, they pick on you. It is a cruel world of bullies, nerds, geeks, jocks… where does one fit in? Thankfully, we have level headed kids who can differentiate between good and bad although they constantly try to test us on how much rope they can get…what they can watch on TV, what video games they can play and who they can hang out with. Most of the time they comply with our gentle suggestions, but I can sense the resistance as to "If my friends can do it, why can't I?" to which my answer has always been we have a different set of rules in this house which we all follow and is applicable to all, starting with me.

Dear reader, if you have a teen at home you have to be a parent and a friend to him/her. Sometimes, you have to walk the fine line but do it and they will thank you for it in later years.

Gangs of Wasseypore- A review

“The idealisms of the Society are not mandated by the Society, but by the so called custodians of the Society”. Thus stated Anurag Kashyap in an interview. Well... not in those words but that is my loose translation of what he stated in Hindi. In my life I haven't seen a film maker tackle and take head on the custodians of Society like Mr. Kashyap. It is even harder in SE Asian cinema because of the shackles by which the society is tied down. Anurag is like the giant monster that has broken down those shackles and lives large with the audacity to tell a story how it is supposed to be told.


It is easy for the Coppolas, Spielbergs and the Polanskis of the west to tell a bold story. But in India it is unheard of. For us SE Asians cinemas is a means of escapism from reality than send a message or learn about what reality is. The Society in general goes to cinema to escape from the grueling reality that is life and live in a fantasy world for 3 hours. To tell a story like what Anurag did in Gangs of Wasseypore is no small achievement. Yes, this is all about Gangs of Wasseypore and the brilliant story teller that Anurag is. Look at him; he looks like one of my tapori friends who don’t want to be associated with. Smoker, typical bhaiya like mannerisms, etc. Yet today the world loves him and so do I. More like awe than love. But you have to love him to be awed by him.

I remember growing up and getting beaten up exactly with what my mom had in her hand, be a rock or a piece of stick. That was tough love, and I love her to death.

I watched Paan Singh Tomar and said to myself, now this is cinema and this is how a story is told. Then I came across GOW and said hmm.....worth a peek, no harm done, guess what? It has been 2 months since then. I have seen both parts frame by frame about 20 times. Listened to each song about 25 times.

Sneha K, can't say enough of her, she is an evil genius just like Anurag. If you listen to the song 'Abroo ki kasam", "keh ke lenge", oh what the heck all the songs even the “chattano sey kreeda karthi”.......it will suck you in and won't let you leave till you have nothing left. Trust me; you don't need weed or liquor to enjoy these songs. Well... if you do have it I am sure it will enhance the pleasure... not that I had to indulge in any of these to enjoy the music.

I am not going to detail the cinema here. You have to see it to believe it, to understand it, to appreciate it and love it. Every character is unique, even the young junior artist who you see a glimpse of, eating rice with a big smile on his face surrounded by filth, sometime towards the middle of the first part while Piyush Mishra is narrating the changes happening in Dhanbad. Asghar, Guddu, JP Singh, Durga, Shama Parveen, Mohsina, Danish, Babua, Tangent - I am naming the characters instead of the actors because it is as if these actors were born to play these roles and they do it with so much conviction. No melodrama and no exaggeration. I am going to save Sardar Khan, Faisal Khan, Ramadhir Singh, Sultan, Nasir and Definite for special mention as Manoj, Nawaz, Tigaminshu, Pankaj, Piyush and Zeishan will live on forever in the hearts of true Hindi cinema aficionados. Anurag and Sneha blended this story like poetry in the form of motion picture. The Lust, passion, violence, gore and brutality that is shown is true and unfortunate reality. GOW (I am not going to break it down into the 2 parts) is truly an epic that should be canned into a time capsule for people to see a thousand years from now and still appreciate it.

If I compare Manoj Bajpai to Marlon Brando, it is an honor to Brando, and at the same token comparing Nawaz to Al Pacino, is an honor to Pacino. Tony Montana (Scarface) Sonny (Dog day afternoon), Faisal Khan, you can mention these characters in the same breath and not think twice about it. Like Anurag stated, camera loves Nawaz and boy does the camera love Manoj! It is a chilling scene when he asks Ramadhir- “Maja aa raha hain”? Ramadhir Singh had send Sultan to kill Sardar Khan and had failed, the expression on Ramadhir's face not knowing what to expect...is priceless.

Faijal climbing up the window sills to get into his lover's room is a scene that is simply priceless.His awkwardness, hesitation and the eventual explosion where he is pounding away all night, boy isn't it real? The expressionless Faijal pumping hundreds of bullets into Ramadhir's lifeless body is vengeance at its best. So much hatred.... it makes you shudder.

"Bhoos ke Dher", "Ek Bagal mein Chaand", they are playing like a record in my head all day every day for the past few weeks. Hats off to Varun Grover and Piyush Mishra for the thoughtful and melodious lyrics.

GOW will probably go down as one of the best Hindi movies, I have ever seen, along with Aashirwaad, Deewar and Paan Singh Tomar. It will be hard for Nawaz to top what he did in GOW. If he does, more power to him. Same goes for Manoj.

Spurling Banks

Spurling passed away on August 21, 2011. An accomplished musician and a gentle soul. I loved him like my older brother. After fighting with his ailment for a good year and a half, he gave up and decided to call it quits as diabetes took its toll on his body. Love ya man and may your soul always rest in peace.

Saturday Night Fever

It was late 1978, a small group of 15 year old boys lined up outside a run down movie theater in a small sleepy town called Bhopal to watch the latest Hollywood sensation "Saturday Night Fever". No one has a clue as to what the movie is all about. The movie poster outside depicts John Travolta striking a pose wearing the famous white 3 piece suit and a seductive Karen Lynn Gorney. The raging hormones are anxious to see some "action" as otherwise life is pretty boring with not too much to do other than hit the books and cram for exams. They pay for the cheap seats ( Re 1.65) which converts to less than 4 US cents in today’s money and get inside eagerly.

For a bunch of small town boys the movie was nothing to rave about, they come out somewhat disappointed as most scenes were heavily censored, the American English was hard to understand and it was a "silly" movie about dancing."Kuch samajh mein nahin aaya yaar" ( didn’t understand a damn thing), we said as we biked home, one of us even thought of seeing it a second time just to understand what the movie was all about.

If we learnt and understood one thing, that caught on like wild fire, the flared "bell- bottomed" pants with a waistline that came up to the chest and polyester shirts with collars the size of a dog's ear, that was made popular by the actors in the movie. Everyone queued up in front of the local tailors to emulate "Travolta style". I myself went to the tailor with a piece of fabric and told the tailor- "make the bottom as flared as you can", well there was not enough fabric for a reasonable flare so the tailor generously added extra fabric from left over cloth from someone else's garment.

The year 1980 came around, SNF and John Travolta were long forgotten and I made my transition from Bhopal to Mumbai. It was a culture shock, like moving from "Greenbow", Alabama to New York City. Albeit, I survived the initial shock and was also shocked to learn that "flared pants" and "dog collar" shirts are out of fashion and "drain pipes" were in. I was a freshman in a 3 year program in Hospitality management. As fate would have it 'DK' was my batch mate and a fellow Hostelite. He danced the Travolta dance to the tune of "Stayin' Alive" dressed in the white 3 piece suit at a college function, and became an overnight sensation among all the students- juniors and seniors alike. He was the coolest kid and everybody wanted to hang out with him. DK is a successful executive today and well respected by his peers.

Well, as for me, I flew below the radar and no one noticed me. However, I did develop an interest in pop music- Bee Gees, Beatles and tried to listen and understand the lyrics. I even tried to dance in front of the mirror and realized that the best I could do was "Gump"( as in Forrest Gump) like. The first time I stepped my foot in a nightclub was in 1986, courtesy of a friend who knew a friend. I was in awe, sat in a corner and tried to act cool and gulped down a couple of beers while the hip crowd swayed to the music.

Few years later, I landed a travelling job which took me around the world and I too enjoyed the luxury of nightlife at some of the nicest night clubs in the world. "Tatous" (now defunct) in New York city was one of my favorites, '1900' at the Taj Hotel also brings back fond memories.

Just a couple of days ago, mind you, the year is 2010, I was watching History channel and it was a story on the making of "Saturday Night Fever". The story outlines the struggle of the producer, Director and actors to shoot the film within budget and the allocated time frame. Money is short, Local mafia is hustling the moviemakers for money and to top that John Travolta's girlfriend loses her life to cancer. The initial release is met with much skepticism due to thin story line and foul language. But finally, when it was released, it broke all records in the opening week. In the last 30 years I have watched SNF umpteen times and I totally love the movie. Also, being a big Travolta fan I have watched almost all of his movies. "Get Shorty" is one of my all time favorites and all of his other movies come a close second, even the crappy "Michael", story of a womanizing angel.

SNF is about life of teens and coming of age, the story revolves around the mundane chores and mediocre life in Brooklyn. Angst of the characters to break from the monotony and do something sensational with their lives and in the process, one of them actually pays with his life falling off the Verrazano bridge. Robert Stigwood takes a group of little known actors and makes SNF one of the biggest cult sensation ever. John Travolta is adored as the James Dean of 70's and nominated for the Academy awards for best actor. He immortalizes his solo dance sequence in the movie which he executes with pitch perfect timing, tenacity and vitality. It is said that he dedicated 9 months to practice those dance moves to precision. When the director wanted to cut some of it from the final edition, he would have none of it.

John Travolta became one of the most biggest and successful Hollywood Stars. Nonetheless, fame also brings controversy and he has had a fair share of it. Recently, he lost his teenage son in a tragic accident. it is hard to fathom... losing a child is hard, no matter what the age is!

Like Prem Naseer ( my favorite hero from Malayalam movies), young Amitabh Bacchan ( the angry young man of Hindi movies), John Travolta has a special place in my heart. Whether it be a dancer, a cowboy, wily politician, a shylock, a rogue extortionist or a desperate attorney, he plays them with conviction and wins your heart.

To put it into perspective, every one has experienced a little bit of Tony Manero's life. The hair, the swagger, the values, the attitude, we all go through that phase of life. I myself have experienced the agonies and ecstasies as a young man, the little victories which makes you feel like you are invincible and the heartbreaks which makes you not want to wake up the next day. I have 2 kids who will go through these stages in a few years and probably repeat a similar story someday, thus continuing the circle of life.

My Hero!

My cousin passed away recently, succumbing to colon cancer after a futile fight for almost a year. He was my hero, some one who I looked up to and cared dearly. I wrote a letter to my nephew, summarizing my life and how he influenced it. I have somewhat come to terms with him not being around, getting emails from him and talking to him almost every week. Not a moment passes by without his thoughts flashing through my mind. Even when my dear mom passed away, it did not affect me to this extent.
(For privacy, I am changing real names to made up ones)

Dear Roger,

The earliest memory I have of chettan is him lying down on his bed in his room with ammayi( your grandma) sitting next to him and having a heart to heart conversation. I may have been 4 years old then. that would make him about 17. his dad- my Ammavan(uncle) was a good man at heart but very short tempered, most of the time I believe chettan got "caned" silly as he was the only one ammavan could take out his frustration. So, your dad inherited his dad's anger and in your house the poor remote controller and the little dog ended up being on the wrong end of the stick or rolled up paper.

He took care of me as a baby. I was born in your grandpa's house( the big house which you may have not seen). That house had a lot of character. Your Aunt inherited that and eventually sold it. I lived for the first 5 years of my life in Kerala shuttling between Mulakulam, Cheruvally( you must have heard of your dad referring to Kamala chitta), and Ponkunnam ( Biju koch's house).

He studied in Bhopal and Ujjain and I happened to travel to Kerala with chettan for Mallika chechi's wedding. I ate some grapes and my face turned all red. he panicked, thinking that I got some kind of illness and eventually realized it was just grape juice color that would just wash off. on the same trip I pooped in my pants and guess what he did the honors of cleaning me up. This was in 1968.

After he moved to Ujjain, I lost touch with him except for the occasional letter that I would receive from him. I knew he was in Bombay, working as an exporter and travelling abroad. he would send me post cards from exotic places like Hong Kong, Kenya, Mauritius etc. We would finally reunite after 10+ years in 1980 when as a skinny, shy, awkward, timid teenager I would land up in Bombay to study hotel management at Dadar catering college. I still remember clearly, he was wearing a light brown short sleeved shirt, dark pants and his stylish ray ban sunglasses. he gave me a big hug and a kiss- my chettan, he made me feel comfortable right away. I stayed with him in PG dig in Bandra Perry road for a week or so before I moved to the hostel.

Live life like a king, that was his motto, when he had money in his pocket, he had no problems spending it or helping out anyone. When he was broke he would take the bus, else it was always a taxi. Many people took advantage of his kindness.

I would visit him at least once or twice a month, sometimes more to borrow a few rupees, I was always broke ( I use the term borrow loosely because, I never paid him back :-)). In 1981 or 82 he introduced me to a lovely young lady at Andheri Station. She was pleasant but a little aloof, but I liked her right away. She warmed up to me in no time, maybe because of the positive vibes I sent out. No prize for guessing who that young lady was- "your mom". I think I gave her a diary to write notes once as a new year gift. Once she gave me a Gold cross pen which I still have to date, although I don’t use it. I hardly ever write, I am too used to typing and my handwriting is like a 3 year olds.

I was there at their wedding, your Dad was late as there was a taxi strike and he had to walk all the way from church gate to fort where the wedding took place. Your mom had an uneasy feeling, thinking that he might not show up. but he did, all drenched in sweat, I think it was October 8th, if memory serves me right. We went to "Dilli Darbar" in Colaba for lunch after the wedding.

After I finished college, it took me a while to find a job and again stayed with chettan for a couple of months. Guess what, he had to provide for me again as I had no income. Those were tough days for me and tougher for him.

I was a frequent visitor at your Grandpa's house in Nagpada, your grandpa and grandma were gracious hosts. We played cards on occasions and generally just hung around. Mind you I am still the insecure, shy and timid one. I only went because I felt comfortable among everyone there- your mom, grandma, grandpa, uncle and his family.

They bought their first flat and moved to Malad. You were born and were doted upon by your parents. Chettan had a special name for you " Kunjandan" I am not sure what it means but it must have been very endearing to him. He would make up songs like- "Tu soja bituva, tenu ninni aa gayi" ( go to sleep precious, you are sleepy) and others that I cannot remember. There was an elderly lady who took care of you. She was very loving and caring. From 1986 to 1992 I watched you grow from a baby to a toddler to a little boy. We used to play catch, bat ball in your living room. You would pretend to be Sunil Gavaskar walking back to the pavilion after getting out with the bat tucked under your arm and head down muttering :-). I would give you rides on my motorcycle around the block, with chettan watching and instructing you to hold on tight to my torso.

After I moved to US and Canada, I drifted around aimlessly and constantly looked towards chettan for guidance. he visited and you all visited as a family couple of times, you remember the trip to Connecticut in my beat up BMW. I fondly remember him buying all kinds of stuff for you and your room. My first 5 years in North America were hell, made some real bad decisions, lost thousands of dollars......it is endless saga. I kept my sanity with the hope that there is a light at the end of the tunnel and my conversations with chettan. He said never to lose hope.

When I cam to India and got married in 1998, you mom helped me pick out the ring which I gave to my wife, it was a nice small diamond ring on which I spent practically all the money I had. But as luck would have it, Air-India ( my previous employer) owed me some money and I got a decent amount as back pay that they owed me. Lata loves that ring even though it is a small diamond, but there is some thing about that ring that is very special. So when you find that special lady :-)who you want to propose to, take your mom with you to pick out that perfect ring. It may not be the most expensive but it will be classiest.

He was a jovial person, also could be annoying at times :-), he would talk non-stop and some times it made no sense. but that was him. You had to LOVE him for what he was, and ignore the rest. He would write all kids of nasty letters to newspapers and I would tell him -"please chetta stop, some one will beat the crap out of you". You don't make enemies in your own back yard. But he spoke his mind and did not fear the consequences.

The picture frame that hangs in your living room is symbolic( chettan, you and me). I don't need to elaborate. That picture speaks a thousand words.

I am writing this to you to refresh your memory. some of this you may already know, some may be buried deep in the sub- conscious part of your brain and just needs a little nudge. When I was growing up, I did not have anyone to look up to except chettan. You may ask- why not my own father- that is another long story, I will have to tell you another time. Your mom might know. she may be able to tell you. If not, I will share my story with you when we meet in person.

Love and hugs

Your Koch (short for Kochachan- Uncle).