Raavan : Review

Perpetually rainy landscapes, roaring waterfalls, thick forests, some crazy bunch of men, A.R Rehman's haunting score, Mani Ratnam's classy direction and some good performances.. Here comes Raavan, another in the series of the much awaited movies of this year.
Raavan is an interesting take on Ramayan. It is the story of Beera, an eccentric, impulsive tribal from the jungles of Laalmaatee who is revered by the locals and loathed by the Police. An Indian Robin Hood of sorts. The story begins when Beera kidnaps the Superintendent's wife Ragini aka Aishwarya Rai and takes her deep into the forests to ransom the SP and finally kill her. But Ragini's fearlessness and staunch iron heart comes as a surprise to Beera who is feared by everyone. He develops a liking towards her and the story moves on as the Police give them a chase through the forests. Beera tells her of his revenge with the Police and why SP catches up with him, Beera leaves him to go free with his wife. However, things in the end take an ugly turn.
Raavan scores on many aspects. Its super awesome visuals and cinematography hold you in a daze. After Avatar, this was one of the most beautiful picturisations. The score by Rehman is excellent. The actors give a good performance on all fronts.
However where Raavan falls short is the story. The message Mani Ratnam wants to put through has been woven into a very average Bollywood story. The story as it reveals itself fails to impress and you keep wondering if there was something more to it, when actually there is nothing.
The parallels with Ramayan are evident. Ram, Raavan, Sita even Govinda as a potential Hanuman and Hariya as Vibhishan and Hemant as Laxman.
Raavan is an impressive piece of artwork but an ordinary piece of writing. I will go on a 3 on 5 for Mani Ratnam's antiparallel Ramayan.

Raajneeti: Review

"Aap junta ko khaane, paani, kapdon ka aasraa de dijiye, junta kisi bhi rang ka jhanda utha legi". Usi tarah aap film ka khoob prachaar bhi kar lijiye junta dekhne toh aa hi jaayegi. Raajneeti, another big film to release this year truly disappoints!
So what's lacking? Powerhouse performances by Nana Patekar, Ajay Devgn, Ranbir Kapoor, Manoj Bajpayee and a movie directed by a director himself in "Raajneeti" who has previously delivered two very good films; still fail to lift the movie to higher echelons.
Reasons: Well there are many. The movie draws suspiciously close parallels to the epic Mahabharata and Mario Puzo's The Godfather. Prakash Jha forgets that in doing so he is challenging one of the most powerful literary phenomenons and that both have been replicated on the screen with justice. Remember Nana Patekar a.k.a Lord Krishna, Sooraj a.ka. Ajay Devgn alias Karna. Samar a.ka. Ranbir alias Michael Corleone? Too much coinicidence ain't it?
On one hand these powerhouse performances do well and on the other hand you are let down by the equally dismal show by Arjun Rampal (who holds the mike like a rockstar) and Katrina Kaif. Both of them don't know how to speak desi Hindi and Katrina Kaif looks almost robotic during her election campaign!
As far as the story goes, there's nothing extraordinary there too. A bitter family feud which involves politics and ends in bloodshed on all fronts. Nothing we haven't seen before or heard about. There is no good or bad here. Only the strongest survive, that is the only take home message from this film. Rolling in thousands of people in for Viraat rallies in the film may thrill you once but not all the time. Truly speaking there is no punch in the film, nothing that will hold you to your seat.
Though the film has some moments. There are few well written dialogues like the one - "Raajneeti mein murdon ko gaadaa nahi jaata, unhe zinda rakha jaata hai taaki waqt aane par wo bolein". But then these few dialogues are weighed down by the lackluster story and the very average direction.
From a director who has delivered us Gangaajal and Apaharan, I expected something much better. I'll go for a 2.5 on 5 for Raajneeti, purely for the good performances by the aforementioned stars and it's huge anticipation. Expect no blockbuster.

I'll be there for you

Paulo Coelho has said in his book, The Zahir - True friends are not those who come with their sympathy in times of grief. They are the ones who come with their sad faces because they don't feel lonely in knowing the fact that someone else is suffering too. I admire Paulo Coelho's work, but this statement of his, I feel it's way out of line.
Just yesterday I happened to send a poem written by me to one of my friends. She replied with a palpable sense of melancholy. It so happened that she bid farewell to her love the same day knowing the fact that they won't ever be together. I had no idea of the pain she was going through and my poem seemed to have brought her again on the verge of tears. Her life hadn't been going as it should have for the past some months. I apologized for my message though really I had no idea about the damage it could do. I comforted her and told her that she shouldn't cry over the passing of those whose time had come. I knew it was a matter of time. Time that heals and makes it all so fine. Time would take away her pain and she would be happy again. But till then I knew she needed some support. I would give it to her and I did. Never once did I think that - "Oh, she's suffering like I did" and feel content about this fact. I had been through what she was going through and I knew it. But to think that this was a thing to be happy about was very selfish.
Yes, when I am forced to go to someone's funeral or observe a minute's silence for someone who has passed away or comfort someone whom I barely know for the pain in his life I do wear a mask. I make a sad face and do it. Frankly, why should I bother? What's the death of someone whom I have hardly met matter to me? Yes, that is the time I am truly indifferent.
But Mr. Paulo Coelho, though I really loved The Zahir, true friends do share the pain and that too selflessly! I'll be there for them when they need me because I know that they'll be there when I need them. So does the life go on.

Kites: Review

One of the most hyped movies of this year, I went to see this on mixed reviews. Kites is a long hauled project by Anurag Basu which has been in news for the most part because of Barbara Mori. And I would like to add here, the movie wasn't disappointing at all.
The film is the story of two people, an Indian who makes his living in Las Vegas with dancing and occasionally doing some crook jobs like marrying women wanting a Green Card into USA. He is desperate for money. This is Hrithik Roshan aka Jay. His counterpart Barbara Mori aka Linda alias Natasha is a poor Mexican girl who happens to use Hrithik Roshan's Green Card services to get into USA only to become engaged to the son of a wealthy casino owner, Bob in Vegas. The owner is Kabir Bedi whose daughter Kangana Ranaut is gaga over our dancing dude and is kept happy by him only because of his desperate need of money and fame.
However things take a turn when Jay meets Linda at Bob's house where she is going to get married to his son, Tony. They instantly strike a chord and fall in love and thus begins their whirlwind romance. But as all things that explode, this one too is short lived and Jay is left searching for his love in the desert while himself being mortally wounded.
If you read this, you can assume it is nothing but a typical Bollywood romance story. But here is the difference. Firstly, Hrithik and Mori's chemistry is mindblowing. The movie brings forth the fact that love can be expressed in more than words and sometimes it just has to go with the flow, relying on your instincts. Sometimes, the feeling is all that takes. The moments shared between Hrithik and Mori are simply superb. Secondly, the direction and the switchovers between the flashbacks and the real time film are good. Thirdly, Tony makes an impressive villain. Fourthly, Mori is a very very good choice for the film, not only is she stunningly beautiful but also she is not a bad actress. And lastly as I had expected Hrithik delivers an absolute powerhouse performance. I won't say his best but nonetheless amongst the best. You'll love him when he is funny, serious and also when he is in extreme grief. He takes the movie many notches up.
The climax was satisfying if not excellent but I would have wanted to tweak it a little bit, not with an intention to change the story but only to make it more impacting. The background score is damn good. Obviously the movie has its flaws but looking at it as a whole I would say it isn't worth the call.
To conclude I'd say I loved the new duo on screen and I loved the 'on the edge, instinctive and extremely expressive love' churned out on screen. I would go on a 3.5 stars on 5! Only someone please tell me, what was the meaning of showing that line in the trailer - "Love should have no strings attached". It held no relevance to the movie!

Winds of Change

Yesterday evening was a beautiful one. One with a revelation and like a flashlight pointing towards a changing world. Thanks to the unexpected "Laila" marauding the eastern coast, Jabalpur was blessed with a rather unusual evening.
The weather was cooler, the evening temperatures dropped as the cool winds swept through the city. The house inside was hotter than the outside. I took this opportunity to take a break from studies. Standing outside in the open air I felt that sense of euphoria that accompanies so often when such a weather comes around. But there was something that was missing. I was tempted to go to the top of the new hospital building to feel the air. So I did. I went up four floors and then stood on the sort of projection that juts out of the buildings terrace. It was the tallest building in the neighbourhood. After a long time I was witnessing the Jabalpur "skyline". Long since the building was built and newer buildings came up, I had lost this view I was witnessing at that precise moment. The last of the birds were making their way back to their trees. The sun had set and an orangish hue painted the western horizon, the sky a patchwork of clouds that looked as if they were in a confusion whether to rain or not. But it had rained somewhere close by as I could smell the familiar and intoxicating fragrance of earth. I could feel my hair stand up. I looked below. Few years back I could see this sight from the terrace of my house, when the tall palm trees looked formidable on which we scribbled our names with nails, when there was a beautiful garden, water flowed in fountains and waterfalls, when the summer was in the luxury of mangoes, the rains in the taste of the Jamuns, the winter with the guavas and the miniature Japanese guavas, when there was a rose garden in the backyard, when I used to play cricket with the gardener's son, when I was a child..When the mornings and the evenings were the same, when all there was to do was to play hide and seek or 'pittu' or some or the other game. It was another lifetime altogether. And now as I stood on the roof I could see the world around me as it had changed. The 'duniyadaari' surrounding me like an inevitable shroud. I spread out my arms, closed my eyes and felt the smell of earth fill my lungs, felt these winds, these winds of change which penetrated every pore of my skin and suddenly I felt as if I had been reborn, reborn to accept the realities that were facing me today. I knew that the world had changed and so had I, but the sky was the same, so was the wind and so was the feeling that came in when I stood there. And it told me it would always be there to guide me whenever I felt it was too hard to come to terms with the present. I got down the four floors and went back to my desk and opened the page where I had left it. It was time that I turned it.

The Pay-Out Traitor

It was 9^th July 2005. The Pune sky I saw overcast with the monsoon clouds, sent forth infinite drops of the familiar “Pune Piddle”. I was in my car driving upto this college with my dad from Jabalpur via Bangalore. A year before, I had never imagined that I would end up joining the best medical college in the country, for various reasons. However, as I sat reading The DaVinci Code in a reclining seat I knew I had finally arrived. Then, there was no Bhairoba Nala for me, no complications, there I was with me and my future laid out in front of me.

It was in the “Faccha Term” I came to know that for reasons unknown, the autowallahs weren’t familiar with what AFMC was. So was my dilemma as well. And thus we were given advice by our seniors to ask the autowallahs to take us to Bhairoba Nala Police Chowki. It’s an advice which still endures in its authenticity. I still ask the autowallahs to take me to Bhairoba Nala and from there too, straight ahead (they are confused as to whether to go left or straight, mostly scowling upon being asked to go straight).

The autowallahs have remained ignorant but I have not. In the years that went by I have learnt a great deal about this college, its traditions, culture etc. I have followed them, fought for them, had issues with others regarding them and even disregarded some of them. But now, after four and a half years, I can call myself a Kilroy. I have come to love this place as it has been and as it has changed. I don’t regret a bit about what I have done and not done, I believe it was maktub, meaning it was written.

It was my last month there. I had decided that I won’t be joining the Forces. It wasn't my hatred, it wasn't because of the money but it was simply because I had a different dream. And I had been called a traitor, betrayer…had been questioned am I even a worthy AFMCite? It hurts. After sharing four and a half years of everything with my college, I had been labeled a “gaddaar” by those who are too busy warming their chairs in air conditioned offices. What had I done? I had given so much to this place, taken too but never with the intentions of stealing away and I was subjected to this? Many others like me said – “How does it matter?” On appearances it doesn’t but deep inside it does.

Was I running away from responsibility? Was I stealing? People have their priorities. I like most others joined the college because I wanted to become a good doctor. Joining the Forces was an option that was added on when I joined this college. Can’t people just simply understand the simplicity of this fact?

But I am not angry, I am not repulsed; I am just saddened. After so many years I am still led to believe that I am still a newbie. A fresher who is yet to discover what AFMC is. Like that autowallah who still believes in the landmark of the wretched Bhairoba Nala Chowki and who, after spending so much time in that city is yet to know what AFMC stands for. Does it stand for all this? And to mock it all, they still charged me the fee for the Alumni Fund! Ridiculous! Let them live in their little worlds and be happy. I have paid the fee.

Like Everyday

The light goes out at 6.30 in the morning. Its cool outside but inside the confines of my room, heat descends on me like a patient predator waiting all night to have beads of my sweat for an early morning breakfast. I wake up. The birds outside are in a furore. Everyday holds so much adventure and promise for them. I envy their noise. I stretch out my arms trying to shrug off the weight off my yesterday so that I can take on what today has to offer to me.
That's how my day begins. Everyday. I do my routine in the gym, have a long bath (though in minutes I am sweating again and I think what good was the bath?), take my car keys and wallet from the desk, pick up my bag and my apron and head up for breakfast. There's no time for reading the newspaper. I quickly munch on the food, drink my daily dose of Lassi and reverse out the car out of the house to drive the 7.5 km to the hospital.
I know that the traffic will be pathetic even at 9am in the morning near the bus stand. Everyone is in a hurry and almost no one is bothered about the rules of the road. So my hand automatically puts the gear in 2nd or even 1st for that matter. Like everyday. I know the expected bumps and potholes, I know where the thullas will be (though the traffic is actually better without them), I know where I can speed up the car and I know where I am going to park it inside the hospital. Like everyday.
The hospital is not much of a change either.I give the patients OPD numbers, write prescriptions, explain to them that they won't get most of the medicines in the hospital's drug store, listen to the monotonous whine of the medical representatives, take attendance and come back. Like everyday.
Once I reach home, I am sick of the heat. The car had been baked in the sun and even the AC on full blast could do little to drive that heat away. I have lunch and sit on my desk for a date with the buggers who wrote these PG entrance exams books. I invariably have some post prandial sleep but I am able to carry on. By 8.30 in the evening I am thoroughly bored. Like everyday.
I have no friends here. One disadvantage for being away from home for 12 years. There is no one to hang out with. The thrill in life is gone. In college, plans used to be formulated in moments. One moment you would be sitting and studying and the other you might just be speeding off on a bike to a nearby lake. The adventure and the thrill of the uncertainty of the next moment has disappeared. I have nothing to do and there is nothing much I can do about it. I have to study, I have to go to the hospital, I have to wake up early and I have to live each day like everyday. It's killing me.