My two minutes at Traffic Signal

 There are two ways which stretches out, leading to my office, almost an equal distance, but one road has a traffic signal.  Everyday on my way to office, I take the road with the traffic signal because it gives me my precious few minutes in these humdrum of city life. There are days when the signal is green and I zoom past that point (without any regret when I am awfully late)  but on most days, it is red and I get to perk my bike, sit and breath a bit and look around the life at the traffic signal for a couple of minutes.

A child selling Indian flags on a traffic signal.

Of course, there is a film by Madhur Bhandarkar named 'Traffic Signal' released in 2007, which dealt with the lives of the people who live and earn their livelihood staying around similar signals but that depiction was more inclined towards the underworld and the underbelly of Mumbai slum. 


In contrast, when I stop around this signal and see the lives around me, I see stories all painted with so many emotions and feelings. I see struggle, pain, hopelessness and also human endurance and the zeal to strife for a better tomorrow.

Sometimes there are kids trying to sell pens, pencils and balloons, sometimes there are women trying to cook something in their makeshift kitchen-cum-bed room, because this was nothing more than a piece of cloth tied to the grills of the wall which made their roof near the Indira Gandhi National center for Arts at the Rajendra Prasad Marg in New Delhi, the capital of India. Sometimes, there are some old men, sitting hunched forward in a circle, talking about somethings which I probably would never know. 


Sometimes I have this urge to skip my office and sit with them, spend an evening with them, listening to their stories, stories of struggle, loss, defeat, pain and hopefully hope. I mean there ought to be some hope or else how can they spend their days, day in and day out, on these streets. Sometimes, I wonder, probably they would have a lot of anger for the better off or the have-nots, who perk their cars and bikes (like me) for that two minutes, often not even bothering to give them a look, as if they don't even exist. I too probably do it everyday, sometimes intentional, sometimes unintentional but always without any malice or perhaps that the way I would like to justify my actions.

Even though I think so much about their lives, I never stop by, never get down from my bike, never talk to them, never offer any help, never try to make any attempt to bring any chance. Perhaps, I think I am not capable enough. But then they say change may start from anywhere, from anyone. Then why not? I don'y know. Something binds me inside, stops me, tells me if I can't make a change by talking to them should not give them any false hope or perhaps they might interpret my action as an attempt to take some sadistic pleasure knowing their lives lived in squalor and penury.


I am still looking for answers to these questions, probably I will not get them because for that I would have to take that one step someday. Knowing everything, still the hunt for the answers continue and continues my two minutes of solace at the traffic signal amidst the humdrum of the city.

Chakde India!!!! Rise of the fallen Heroes

The Noise that drowned the Dhyan Chand stadium at the capital never sounded so sweet before and the floodlights that drenched the stadium faded in comparision to the light in which Indian hockey found itself tonight. Our national game had once again achieved its rightful place. Indian hockey had finally erased the ignominy of not qualifying for the Beijing and had earned its right to fly to London, the hosts of the 2012 Olympics. 

Even as the countdown began for the final hooter, thousands of hands applauded the feat, fans who have been waiting for this moment for long, stood there and screamed their lungs out, the national flags fluttered under the night sky.

It is quite an irony that the victory came on a day when many many miles away, the Indian cricket team had laid down their weapons once again against an emerging Australia, the pain and shame of the disastrous tour written on their face. 

While on one hand, some stars fell, at Dhyan Chand Stadium many new heros were born, where on one hand a game followed like a national game plunged into further shame, the actual 'national game' was once again finding its foot in the world of sport, where cricketers were finding ways to escape the limelight, Michael Nobb's boys were basking in their new found glory. 

For many in this Indian team, this win will put to rest the 'nightmare at Santiago' four years ago, for many it will be the answer to their prayers over the years and for many it will a day when they found their long due. But nevertheless for everybody it will be a day of pride, a day that would stay enveloped in the corner of their mind forever.

Of course, many would argue that for a country that taught hockey to the world and have been the Olympics champion eight times, qualifying for the event shouldn't arose so much emotions but one shouldn't forget the condition in which, the game had found itself after their 2008 disaster. 

It wouldn't be wrong to say that perhaps hockey in India would have died a silent death, unmourned and unheard and this win has actually given a new lease of life to the game which had been catapult to the international arena by none other than our own major Dhyan Chand. 

India can still come a cropper against the mighty teams such as Australia, Holland and Germany, who in the last three decades have galloped away too far but at least this win has given a ray of hope to a lot of future hockeyroos who otherwise would have picked up a racket or a bat instead of a stick. This win has shown as coach Nobbs very rightly puts it "that this team is worthy of admiration and respect of the people of India."

Heartbroken once again, Saina why did you lose?

Arthur Robert Ashe, a three-time Grand Slam winner, once said: "You are never really playing an opponent. You are playing yourself, your own highest standards, and when you reach your limits, that is real joy.”

Surely, Indian badminton star Saina Nehwal could not achieve that real joy today because she knows she never could really reach her limits or touch the high standards that she set for herself in the last two year.

"Failing to prepare is preparing to fail.” But for Saina, who has been training specifically for the World Championship for the last one and a half months, preparation was never a factor.

Infact, she was in the best shape to clinch the title this year considering the fact that she invested so much time to practice and achieve perfection in her strokes but then why did she falter once again at the quarters of the World Champion is a question that none but she can answer better.

Plagued by a lingering ligament injury for more than half of the year, Saina had done well to recover completely and get rid off that scrap bandage which she wore this year in most of the tournaments and regain her full fitness before the tournament.

There were concerns with her foot movement in the court but even for that arrangements were made as she was under the guidance of Tom Jones beside her mentor Pullela Gopichand but all these preparations meant nothing in the end as she succumbed to a straight-game defeat against world number three Xin Wang.

No loopholes in preparation, no dearth of motivation and there is no paucity of talent either, then why Saina, who is revered by one and all in the country couldn't achieve her dreams which she had seen many times since her kindergarden days. Was it this very pressure of a billion hearts that wants her to win every time she takes the court or it is the lack of believe?

For a shuttler, who has entertained the nation and the world in the last two years, beaten the chinese umpteen times and is considered one of the best in the world by not only her country men but also coaches and players across the world, it has to be a sad day. As a fan of the sport and as a fan of her game, I am disappointed.

Chiller Party is a story of courage, hope and friendship

     Bollywood has never been known to produce films for children. It was only after 'Tere Zameen par' that this genre of movies was taken seriously by the filmmakers and although even today there are very few movies being made for kids, films such as 'Stanley ka Dabba', Makdee, 'Blue Umbrella' and now 'Chiller party' gives a lot of hope to this genre of movies.
     Chiller Party is an honest film made with a lot of heart by directors Nitesh Tiwari and Vikas Bahl. The film, co-produced by Salman Khan Being Human Productions (SKBH) and UTV's Spotboy, is a story of courage, hope and friendship that transcends all borders.
     The film, mostly shot inside a colony in suburban Mumbai, is about a group of young boys living in the colony, their camaraderie and their friendship with a boy, who comes to the colony to work as a car washer, and there fight to keep his dog 'Bidhu' from being taken away by the dog catchers.
     The film doesn't have any big name and it doesn't need one. Though there are a number of character actors but the main USP of the film are the kids, who made this film worthy of more than just a watch.
     The film gathers steam right from the start as the different kids are introduced to the audience one by one and simply sails through as the kids goes about their job and leaves no stones unturned to save their friend Bidhu. They take the help of the media, conducts 'chaddi' rallies -- all without the help of their parents. There are moments were it becomes a tad slow but it keeps its feet on the ground althrough.
     It is a heart warming film which also passes on enough messages to the adults without sounding preachy. Overall a good watch!!!!

Primer is a intense, dialogue-based sci-fi movie

To make a Sci-fi movie with an intriguing plot is any day a very difficult task and to make it on a low budget could spell doom for the director's hopes. It is here that Primer steals the hearts of the audience because it is not only fresh and intriguing, but has been made at a shoe-string budget of USD 7,000.

    A 2004 American Sci-fi drama dealing with time travel, 'Primer' is a winner because of its meticulously and methodically constructed narration and editing which keeps the movie buffs glued to the screen till the last scene.

    The film starts with four young office-goers spending their extra hours inside a garage involved in a discussion on a scientific project which unexpectedly leads two of them to the discovery of a device that makes it possible to travel backwards in time by a day or two.

    'Primer' is dialogue-driven and is full of scientific jargons which are not explained. Nothing in the movie is explained and it takes a lot of attention to understand which actually is happening on screen.

    The narration is linear but the sharp twists and turns and the characters travelling back and forth makes it edge-of-the-seat but equally hard to follow. Primer is a movie which needs viewing more than once and it is quite impossible to completely decipher what is happening on screen.

    Like Christopher Nolan's Memento, in 'Primer' writer, director, producer, musician and actor Shane Carruth puts the audience in the state of mind that the characters are going through and that makes it all the more immpressive.

    However, it can also put one off, especially because we all are habituated to watching hi-fi Sci-fis with visual graphics but Primer have absolutely no stunning visually stimulating scenes which can leave you mesmerised.

    It is more of a thriller which deals with the emotional implications and how greed can take over and break down your relations after you come up with such an exciting discovery like time travel.

    It is not the greatest Sci-fi film ever but has a strong tight script and a story which is experimental to the core and demands load of patience given its intricacies.

Delhi Belly:An edge-of-the-seat comedy

At a time when Dabaang, Ready and Double Dhamal types of movies are trying to make people laugh with their slapstick and double meaning and often offending dialogues, Delhi belly comes has a breath of fresh air. It is a no-nonsense and on-your-face comedy which doesn't try to be a comic but tickles your funny bone by its sheer situation and characters and their predicaments and difficulties and its fast pace of narration.

Delhi Belly falls in the line of movies such as Sanket City, Phas Gaya Obama and love ke liye kuch bhi kharega, which have entertained people with the sheer power of their scripts and performance.

Delhi Belly doesn't have a great story but it's biggest strength is its script, dialogues and screenplay besides the performances. From the first scene to the last frame, the director never leaves the acccelarator even for a moment as the characters and their predicaments unfold in a breath-taking pace which leaves the audience enthralled.

In fact, by the time the credit starts rolling, you actually feel completely satisfied with Aamir Khan's I hate You (Like I love you) item number serving as a perfect dessert for the audience.

But having said that, it is not for the ones who likes to go out on an weekend with their families or for the moral policing couples. It is a perfect outing for a group of friends -- the 20 and early 30 somethings -- or for couples who are more friends than husbands and wives.

Reasons: Its language is crass, full of slangs, perhaps you can make a dictionary of slangs out of this movie. It is the language of the youths especially of Delhi, which almost every commoner hears day in and day out in the capital and though the language is raw still at no point it seems that the director tried to forcibly include those slangs in the movie. Also if toilet humour makes you abominable then stay away from it, because you have plenty of it here.

Also some of its scenes are too raw by Indian standards, because we think twice before including those in Bollywood perhaps fearing the moral police, although, it is a reality of the young and ever-changing India.

In fine, Delhi Belly is a laugh riot, a complete paisa vasool. It is a kind of film which gives a lot of hope to an industry which generally depend on homophobic and racists jokes to entertain people in the name of comedies. It gives a ray of hope to the dying genre of comedy in Bollywood.

Did MF Hussian deserve what he received?

M F Hussian is no more. A man who is considered to have catapulted India to the world art map, a man considered to be the Picasso of India, a man loved and loathed in equal measure is dead.
From being a movie billboard artist to becoming India's most sought after painter, MF has travelled a long journey and on the way have courted controversy as much as he was bestowed with accolades.

From being India's most influential artist to one of the most persecuted, MF covered a full circle during his lifetime and even after his death while on one hand there are people who mourn his death, there is another group who doesn't feel an iota of pain in the demise of the legend.

In a career that started even before India's independence, MF turned from a hero to a villain only in the later stages of his life. His works which brought laurels to the country and hoisted him as one of the treasures of India -- all faded and forgotten once he started depicting Hindu goddess and deities in nude.

He was hounded by the law, activists and moral police and eventually had to flee his country and take refugee in Qatar before breathing his last in exile in London.

I often wonder if MF deserved what he received from his own countrymen, if he really was a pervert not a painter, if he actually committed such a huge crime that he didn't even deserve a death in his place of birth,
if he really intend to hurt the sentiments of a particular religion with his paintings, if he really deserved to be a pariah.

Art as I see is an interpretative form of communication that thrives in interpretation. What I see in an art can never be similar to what someone else gauges in between those strokes of brushes. What I read amidst those blend of colours can be diametrically opposite to what others feel and sense.

I wonder if the fabric of religion is so thin that a painting can tarnish it, can tear it into pieces with just some strokes of brush. What good is of democracy if there is no freedom of expression, if there is to freedom to live the way one intends to.

But then when I see those paintings and think from a lay man's point of view or just stare at those nude images of the goddess without trying to look beyond them, I have to admit even the staunch secular and liberal in me, feels more than a bit awkward.

My mind questions why MF didn't paint any other religious goddess or deities in nudity, why he never tried to inculcate nudity in the Islamic themes which he explored, why all his painting always ended up portraying only a particular religion.

Perhaps, these questions will never be answered, perhaps I lack the understanding of seeing his painting in the right perspective or perhaps he actually was what people say a butcher in the grab of a painter.

Whatever it might be, all I can say is "Now that you are gone, May you get what you deserve in a world which is beyond us". Amen!!!