Parasailing, also known as parascending, is a water sport where a person (two or three people may also ride at the same time) is towed behind a speedboat while attached to a parachute. The boat then drives off, carrying the parascender into the air, to about 200 meters above the ocean. The parascender has little or no control over the parachute.
The beach from which our speedboat started is called Mue Suasi, supposed to be the longest strip of sand in Mauritius. The boat initially cruised over the shallow coral waters, and then we were in the deep blue ocean. The sea was rough- our little winch-boat bobbed up and down as it sped towards the horizon. The instructors strapped a life-jacket over my chest, pumped it with air, and then buckled it to the parachute. I was made to sit (rather, bend my knees) on a harness. The whole thing was connected by an extendible rope (later found out to be a total of 200 m in length) to the boat.
When everything was ready, I stood on the the small launchpad of the boat, said bye to Dad, who would remain in the boat, and suddenly, I was off. At first, it was fun. Hovering a few feet above the boat, I felt a rush of cool sea wind, and looked around. Before I could realize and shout to make them stop, I was up, up, and up. The boat grew progessively smaller in size, until I could see it no more. I was all alone up there, hanging on for dear life. My feet swayed struggling to mantain the sitting position that I had been warned to keep. The parachute swerved to one side, and then the other, and as Wikipedia so kindy pointed out in the opening lines of this post, "...the parascender...," had "....no control over the parachute." Fortunately, the sun was hidden that day, and i could easily look around. It was all water till the horizon on the left, all water till the horizon on the right, a little belt of trees and beach at the horizon straight ahead (the boat had reversed its direction, and was now travelling back towards the beach), and I'm sure (though i didn't dare look), all water behind me as well.
It was lonely up there- and uncomfortable. I have never practiced a more difficult yoga aasan than the position my body was in up there, 200 m above sea, and another 100m above the sea-bed. It was then that I felt the tug. The coaches had warned me before take-off that when they'll be "landing" me, there will be a slight tuck-tuck. But up there, I was convinced that the rope had snapped. It hadn't; I have lived to tell the tale. But it became so uncomfortable just before the end, that I shouted into air, "Get me back FAST!"
When I was just a few feet up, i shouted, "Hi Papa!" I had made it back, torn, broken, but safe. Dad's voice was breathless with emotion: "Karan," he said as soon as I stepped out of the harness, "you got 95%! Mummy just called (mummy was in delhi)....I told her I'll call her back again, but she said you've got 95%! Congrats, beta!!!!"
I had a lot of difficulty in restraining myself from jumping in the boat with joy...No, of course that wasn't how I got the results. Of course, I did do parasailing, but that was exactly 12 hours before they came. Here's what happened:
In the wee hours of Friday morning, the couple in the room adjoining ours- in mauritius- called up the hotel reception, to complain about "the extremely unruly behavior of the Asians next door, shreiking and fighting in the middle of the night." They were badly mistaken. Dad and I weren't fighting; he was laughing and I was shrieking with joy.
The time was 2.30. Extremely nervous, I had laid down to sleep barely 45 minutes earlier, and had dreamt that I'd got 40% marks in all subjects in the board exams. I cannot describe the relief I felt when my eyes opened and i realized that it was only a dream. The lights were on, and Dad was not in bed. I heard him in the toilet, and went to hug him. "I had a very bad dream...I had only 40 in all subjects." I felt almost like crying, and didn't tell him what else I had seen: in the dream, i saw dad tell me, "I wish you'd studied harder, you took it all too lightly."
He had difficulty speaking with all the emotion in his voice, "beta, don't worry. You've got 95%."
Seriously? I asked
He said, "Haan beta. Mummy just called. Your aggregate is 95. I had to go to the toilet immediately, so I told her I'll call back to get the break-up."
The tenth board result, though different in almost every conceivable aspect, was same in atleast one: Dad, on the phone, writing the marks on a very ordinary scrap of paper, and I, disbelievingly looking as the result appeared in dad's illegitible handwriting.
Mom had the marks corresponding only to the subject codes. I didn't want it to be that inexact; i took the phone and shouted across the indian ocean, "ma! admit card nikalo! admit card nikalo! Codes and subjects are written in that! Jaldi karo!"
Here's what came out:
English: 91
Economics: 91
Physics: 95
Chemistry: 98
Math: 97
I kept hoping that eco was not one of the 2 91's....i had been expecting nothing less than 98 in that. But it was. It was the only thing that wasn't what i wanted it to be that morning.
I tried to make myself happier by telling dad, "Kya pata? maybe the whole class's economics result is kharaab. Maybe in that way I'm lucky to have even got that much.
I was right. Nothing short of a disaster. 55, 77, 84, 82, 86, 69...and these are the marks of our class's toppers. People who'd otherwise have got 92, 96, 97...Luckily, Delhi University understands this, and that's why they consider only best of 4. So those friends who had been counting on DU, can chuck economics and submit only their english, physics, chem, and math marks.
Thursday, May 31
Tuesday, May 15
My Mobile's Gone
I have spent the better part of last hour trying to get my mobile back up again. It was supposed to be a routine affair- with the balance finished, I drove to the nearby market (the car must have touched atleast 5 people on the way- no, nobody was hit) and bought a recharge coupon.
Back home, I tried recharging the phone 4 times using the coupon, but to no avail. Each time I tried, I received the same response: "Error code, indicates voucher not found."
So I drove back to the market (this time I was in the passenger seat) and went back to the tiny cubicle from which the mobile shop operates. The owner tried another 6 times, and then tried calling the Hutch Customer Service, all to no avail.
Initially, he told me Aapka phone band ho gaya hai. Phir sare paper dene padhenge. This really irritated me. I told him Mera to lifetime recharge hai. Expiry hogi 2012 mein. Then he said Woh to theek hai, par aapko firse sare paper jama karvaane padhenge. I said Lekin message aa raha hai ki Card Invalid. Phone to chal raha hai.
Then he softened. He told me that apparently, the Hutch server is down. So it will refuse to recharge mobile phones for some more time. While I was waiting, I saw them turn back 6 customers who wanted to buy Hutch Prepaid Cards.
I asked Has this ever happened before? He said Yes, yeh hota rehta hai. I asked Kitni der tak rehta hai? He said Kuch ek ghanta, kabhi do bhi.
So there was no real point in waiting there. He returned the card, took down its serial number, recharge code (okaaaay), and my contact numbers. He said Don't try again. Your phone and this card can be locked. He also said I will keep trying, and when I get through I will call you up.
I said okay. There was no other way other than to trust him. While leaving, I had to say, Aap bengali ho? Main bhi bengali hoon, lekin bangla nahin aati.
No, I ain't Bangla, but had to relate to him just in case. Wonder what difference it will make though.
I regret telling him at one point of time, rather angrily, Phir meko aap doosra card de do. Of course, there was no point of saying that and I regret it even more now.
So, I have 29 paise left in the phone. No calls, no messages. Lekin aap log call kar sakte ho.
Back home, I tried recharging the phone 4 times using the coupon, but to no avail. Each time I tried, I received the same response: "Error code, indicates voucher not found."
So I drove back to the market (this time I was in the passenger seat) and went back to the tiny cubicle from which the mobile shop operates. The owner tried another 6 times, and then tried calling the Hutch Customer Service, all to no avail.
Initially, he told me Aapka phone band ho gaya hai. Phir sare paper dene padhenge. This really irritated me. I told him Mera to lifetime recharge hai. Expiry hogi 2012 mein. Then he said Woh to theek hai, par aapko firse sare paper jama karvaane padhenge. I said Lekin message aa raha hai ki Card Invalid. Phone to chal raha hai.
Then he softened. He told me that apparently, the Hutch server is down. So it will refuse to recharge mobile phones for some more time. While I was waiting, I saw them turn back 6 customers who wanted to buy Hutch Prepaid Cards.
I asked Has this ever happened before? He said Yes, yeh hota rehta hai. I asked Kitni der tak rehta hai? He said Kuch ek ghanta, kabhi do bhi.
So there was no real point in waiting there. He returned the card, took down its serial number, recharge code (okaaaay), and my contact numbers. He said Don't try again. Your phone and this card can be locked. He also said I will keep trying, and when I get through I will call you up.
I said okay. There was no other way other than to trust him. While leaving, I had to say, Aap bengali ho? Main bhi bengali hoon, lekin bangla nahin aati.
No, I ain't Bangla, but had to relate to him just in case. Wonder what difference it will make though.
I regret telling him at one point of time, rather angrily, Phir meko aap doosra card de do. Of course, there was no point of saying that and I regret it even more now.
So, I have 29 paise left in the phone. No calls, no messages. Lekin aap log call kar sakte ho.
The Day My Car Hit 110 kmph
And then it was all freedom- a free surge towards the beckoning road, towards the green forest on my right, towards the dark clouds for which I knew I was one day destined....I was weightless, pushed back against my seat, unaware of the enormous weight it was exerting against my back. Very slowly, not wanting to let go of the delight, I lifted my bare right foot off the accelerator, and saw the speedometer needle swing anti-clockwise toward the seventies...
I am sorry for not being able to post for, as my dashboard tells me, 8 days. I have been writing for my old class blog, the 10-E blog, writing a series of posts on the teachers who taught us back then. It has been a wonderful experience, and I'm amazed that I carried so many incidents with me, submerged within my sub-conscious mind. You can read the 5-part series at teneof2004.blogspot.com.
There was not much to write about either. I'll review the Namesake soon, but as of now I've only read the book. I want to review the movie and the book together. I also have to post the list of 100 Books that Naita has tagged me with, as well as a post on the whole point of a blog.
Recently, I stumbled upon a blog that had a couple of my friends as members. It has been inactive since February, but I found this post, first published last October:
I am the PRESIDENT SECURITY COUNCIL in DPSMUN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!I first found out last night, when Prateek sent me a mail congratulating me, and then we chatted last night, Prateek, Shoikat and me, and Prateek clarified.This morning, I just got the call. It was Karan to whom this wonderful task of spreading joy was given, and he wished me for all the festivals, and then congratulated me. So I *hehe* feigned ignorance, and I asked what for.
"For becoming a chair at DPSMUN."
"Are you SERIOUS?????? What Committee?"
"Security Council."
*silence*
"Oh..my...god....Are you sure?? That's amazing!!! omg, I can't believe it!!! Shit, woooooowwwwww!!! SECURITY COUNCIL!!!! Thanks so much!!!"
And I went on and on in a similar vein, and Karan was just laughing at me indulgently.
This paragraph awoke several dormant memories within my mind. I'm having a lot of difficulty in finding the right word for how I felt reading this post, this recounting of the conversation I had with her. Reading it, I could clearly imagine my telephone call to Sanjana last October: I had been in the car, on the way to नानी-घर. It was the afternoon of Bhai Dooj, and the festivals she mentions were Diwali, Bhai Dooj, and Id (the last two had coincided last year).
It was so much like the other conversations I'd had that day; after all, I'd called up twenty people and uttered almost the same words. Naturally, all the reactions hadn't been similar: I remember one executive board member even said Shit; not the shit of surprise, but the shit of frustration.
What had seemed so ordinary back then, and thus had been relegated to the back of my mind, suddenly flashed back, and came alive today. And made me want to post.
I am sorry for not being able to post for, as my dashboard tells me, 8 days. I have been writing for my old class blog, the 10-E blog, writing a series of posts on the teachers who taught us back then. It has been a wonderful experience, and I'm amazed that I carried so many incidents with me, submerged within my sub-conscious mind. You can read the 5-part series at teneof2004.blogspot.com.
There was not much to write about either. I'll review the Namesake soon, but as of now I've only read the book. I want to review the movie and the book together. I also have to post the list of 100 Books that Naita has tagged me with, as well as a post on the whole point of a blog.
Recently, I stumbled upon a blog that had a couple of my friends as members. It has been inactive since February, but I found this post, first published last October:
I am the PRESIDENT SECURITY COUNCIL in DPSMUN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!I first found out last night, when Prateek sent me a mail congratulating me, and then we chatted last night, Prateek, Shoikat and me, and Prateek clarified.This morning, I just got the call. It was Karan to whom this wonderful task of spreading joy was given, and he wished me for all the festivals, and then congratulated me. So I *hehe* feigned ignorance, and I asked what for.
"For becoming a chair at DPSMUN."
"Are you SERIOUS?????? What Committee?"
"Security Council."
*silence*
"Oh..my...god....Are you sure?? That's amazing!!! omg, I can't believe it!!! Shit, woooooowwwwww!!! SECURITY COUNCIL!!!! Thanks so much!!!"
And I went on and on in a similar vein, and Karan was just laughing at me indulgently.
This paragraph awoke several dormant memories within my mind. I'm having a lot of difficulty in finding the right word for how I felt reading this post, this recounting of the conversation I had with her. Reading it, I could clearly imagine my telephone call to Sanjana last October: I had been in the car, on the way to नानी-घर. It was the afternoon of Bhai Dooj, and the festivals she mentions were Diwali, Bhai Dooj, and Id (the last two had coincided last year).
It was so much like the other conversations I'd had that day; after all, I'd called up twenty people and uttered almost the same words. Naturally, all the reactions hadn't been similar: I remember one executive board member even said Shit; not the shit of surprise, but the shit of frustration.
What had seemed so ordinary back then, and thus had been relegated to the back of my mind, suddenly flashed back, and came alive today. And made me want to post.
Saturday, May 5
Cutie thing
This is a wonderful piece i found yesterday:
Two Beggars Disputing their Right to an Oyster they had found
a Lawyer thus decides the Cause
Blind plaintiff, lame defendant, share
The friendly Law's impartial care.
A shell for him, a shell for thee,
The middle is the lawyer's fee.
So judge's word decrees the people's right,
And Magna Carta is a paper kite.
By Mathew Prior (1664-1721)
Age-old theme in the poem...yet what i loved about the poem was "and magna carta is a paper kite." The opening of a can of corrupt worms. More of that later.
Today, I was at the American Diner at the IHC, and noticed one of the framed old advertisements they've put up to give the place the sixties feel:
Marilyn Monroe says,
"Yes
I use Lustre-Creme Shampoo." [on the right is her pic with a bottle of "Lustre-Creme Shampoo."]
Marilyn Monroe,
starring in
GENTLEMEN PREFER BLONDES
A Twentieth Century Fox Production
Color by Technicolor
One of the imp. things I noticed was the way the synonym (though of course there really are no synonyms) of hue was spelt: color. I used to think that the american version was a fairly recent attempt at linguistic and etymological autonomy.
But what was more serendipitious about this display, the reason why I'm posting about something as stupid as a picture hanging on the walls of american diner is the movie: Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. Only yesterday, I read about the book on which the movie is based, in an article in Newsweek. The article was about Edith Wharton, her contempt for Joyce's Ullyeses, and liking for Anita Loos' 1925 novel "Gentlemen Prefer Blonds."
How strange to have turned upon the same name in the most unlikiest of places.
Here's the wikipedia entry about the whole affair, a rather funny story spanning books, their sequels, silent movies, musicals, and talkies. I know the english is rather childish, but it adds to the fun!
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gentlemen_Prefer_Blondes
Two Beggars Disputing their Right to an Oyster they had found
a Lawyer thus decides the Cause
Blind plaintiff, lame defendant, share
The friendly Law's impartial care.
A shell for him, a shell for thee,
The middle is the lawyer's fee.
So judge's word decrees the people's right,
And Magna Carta is a paper kite.
By Mathew Prior (1664-1721)
Age-old theme in the poem...yet what i loved about the poem was "and magna carta is a paper kite." The opening of a can of corrupt worms. More of that later.
Today, I was at the American Diner at the IHC, and noticed one of the framed old advertisements they've put up to give the place the sixties feel:
Marilyn Monroe says,
"Yes
I use Lustre-Creme Shampoo." [on the right is her pic with a bottle of "Lustre-Creme Shampoo."]
Marilyn Monroe,
starring in
GENTLEMEN PREFER BLONDES
A Twentieth Century Fox Production
Color by Technicolor
One of the imp. things I noticed was the way the synonym (though of course there really are no synonyms) of hue was spelt: color. I used to think that the american version was a fairly recent attempt at linguistic and etymological autonomy.
But what was more serendipitious about this display, the reason why I'm posting about something as stupid as a picture hanging on the walls of american diner is the movie: Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. Only yesterday, I read about the book on which the movie is based, in an article in Newsweek. The article was about Edith Wharton, her contempt for Joyce's Ullyeses, and liking for Anita Loos' 1925 novel "Gentlemen Prefer Blonds."
How strange to have turned upon the same name in the most unlikiest of places.
Here's the wikipedia entry about the whole affair, a rather funny story spanning books, their sequels, silent movies, musicals, and talkies. I know the english is rather childish, but it adds to the fun!
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gentlemen_Prefer_Blondes
Water
I finally saw Deepa mehta's oscar-nominated Water, and really wondered what was it that made it better than Rang De Basanti. Water was at least nominated, RDB didn't even get to the semi-finalist list of 9.
The movie no doubt is very tender. Though my feeling that the movie was starting with an Om-Namah-Shivay Nataraja statue immersed in subliming dry ice sequence (the feeling was caused by the starting music) turned out to be quite wrong, Deepa Mehta immediately started shocking, disgusting, and impressing the audience with a Mistry-esque detailed account of the rituals of widowhood.
The movie becomes rather drab after Chuhiye, the 10-year old girl who has become the latest inmate at the विधाश्रम, starts liking the people she meets. Madhumati, the strong, bossy, and fat head of the place, strangely reminds me of Rita Khanna at our school. She is cute and puddly but her ganja-smoking character is so much less so. Lisa Ray looked very foreign. Frankly, she looks better with cropped hair later on in the movie (all widows are supposed to have shaved heads, but because Ray as the prostitute is the bread-earner for the ashram, she has to keep her hair long and beautiful. However, as a punishment for trying to re-marry, Maudhumati cuts off her long hair. And then Lisa starts looking even more beautiful!) John tries to carry off his role well, his character loves Gandhi, Kalidas, and the Indian flute. And of course, Kalyani a.k.a Ray. When she finds out that her lover's father is the same person whom she's compelled to visit every night, she commits suicide. In a very strange way. I mean, one doesn't just pass into water and hope not to survive.
The character, and the actor, who reallly holds the movie together is Seema Biswas, as the confident, pious, and one could say, smart widow at the ashram. She once wonders aloud, "should we still listen to our conscience even when it goes against our religion?" She's probably the most adorable character, and thereby the most likable actor, in the movie. Commanding respect but never really wielding authority. Funnily, when told about the Widow Remarriage Act, she asks, "हमें क्यों नहीं बताया इसके बारे में?" Is she the real protaganist, and Ray and Abraham merely supporting cast?
Too much for the hyper-hyped A.R.Rahman music. The songs are rather short, but what we need to commend is how Rahman brings out the provincial rusticity through them. The lyrics are amazing, and the movie could have done with a few more of these.
Is Deepa Mehta commenting on a social issue? Most probably, because even though the movie is set in the late 1930's, the social attitude remain the same. Had I told my grandmother that I wanted to marry a widow, her reaction would have been far sharper than that of Waheeda Rehman (i think she was playing JA's mother). And as the director points out, thereare still 34million hindu widows, amny of whom are made to abide by the Laws of Manu. Perhaps it was this socio-political commentary which the VHP used to prohibit its shooting in Benaras. Instead, it had to be shot in Sri Lanka. Hats off to the production team- not one indication that the land is Lanka, except maybe the south indian mother-daughter duo at the temple, offering alms to the widows...
Climax is interesting, but not gripping. Seema Biswas gives Chuhiya up to Gandhiji through his sewak Abraham. This follows a rather brusque Gandhian speech, almost as if to validate Mehta's point that it is the Gandhian era.
Overall, it was a rather slow movie. I'd give it, say, 6 on 10?
The movie no doubt is very tender. Though my feeling that the movie was starting with an Om-Namah-Shivay Nataraja statue immersed in subliming dry ice sequence (the feeling was caused by the starting music) turned out to be quite wrong, Deepa Mehta immediately started shocking, disgusting, and impressing the audience with a Mistry-esque detailed account of the rituals of widowhood.
The movie becomes rather drab after Chuhiye, the 10-year old girl who has become the latest inmate at the विधाश्रम, starts liking the people she meets. Madhumati, the strong, bossy, and fat head of the place, strangely reminds me of Rita Khanna at our school. She is cute and puddly but her ganja-smoking character is so much less so. Lisa Ray looked very foreign. Frankly, she looks better with cropped hair later on in the movie (all widows are supposed to have shaved heads, but because Ray as the prostitute is the bread-earner for the ashram, she has to keep her hair long and beautiful. However, as a punishment for trying to re-marry, Maudhumati cuts off her long hair. And then Lisa starts looking even more beautiful!) John tries to carry off his role well, his character loves Gandhi, Kalidas, and the Indian flute. And of course, Kalyani a.k.a Ray. When she finds out that her lover's father is the same person whom she's compelled to visit every night, she commits suicide. In a very strange way. I mean, one doesn't just pass into water and hope not to survive.
The character, and the actor, who reallly holds the movie together is Seema Biswas, as the confident, pious, and one could say, smart widow at the ashram. She once wonders aloud, "should we still listen to our conscience even when it goes against our religion?" She's probably the most adorable character, and thereby the most likable actor, in the movie. Commanding respect but never really wielding authority. Funnily, when told about the Widow Remarriage Act, she asks, "हमें क्यों नहीं बताया इसके बारे में?" Is she the real protaganist, and Ray and Abraham merely supporting cast?
Too much for the hyper-hyped A.R.Rahman music. The songs are rather short, but what we need to commend is how Rahman brings out the provincial rusticity through them. The lyrics are amazing, and the movie could have done with a few more of these.
Is Deepa Mehta commenting on a social issue? Most probably, because even though the movie is set in the late 1930's, the social attitude remain the same. Had I told my grandmother that I wanted to marry a widow, her reaction would have been far sharper than that of Waheeda Rehman (i think she was playing JA's mother). And as the director points out, thereare still 34million hindu widows, amny of whom are made to abide by the Laws of Manu. Perhaps it was this socio-political commentary which the VHP used to prohibit its shooting in Benaras. Instead, it had to be shot in Sri Lanka. Hats off to the production team- not one indication that the land is Lanka, except maybe the south indian mother-daughter duo at the temple, offering alms to the widows...
Climax is interesting, but not gripping. Seema Biswas gives Chuhiya up to Gandhiji through his sewak Abraham. This follows a rather brusque Gandhian speech, almost as if to validate Mehta's point that it is the Gandhian era.
Overall, it was a rather slow movie. I'd give it, say, 6 on 10?
Friday, May 4
Life today
Argh! It feels so bad to be sufferinf grom constipation...you know there's stuff in the stomach, it moves round and round, but it disobeys gravity and comes up rather than going down. It is very irritating, uncomfortable, and it really saps one of his happiness, health, pleasure from life's good things.
So after returning from the driving school, where we learned about how change tyres, replace engine oil, brake oil, and a fan-belt which probably the insructor himself had never changed in his life; how to distinguish brake oil (he made me the tester- I dipped the right index finger right into the stuff, and it came out burning), how to shift gears et al, and of course, how the engine works: हवा और टेल के मिश्रण को करंट देके फाध्तें हैं, और उससे एक शक्ति पैदा होती है...anyway, after returning from the driving school, I have been sleeping half a dozen hours....there was general morbidity- problem in the stomach, things stuck inside the esophagus, and body stiff from an unnaturally long sleep, and then a slight fever. Argh!!!
There were a couple of things I forgot to mention in the previous (ta ra rum pum वाला) post. Like the new buisness of advertising through movies. There were atleast half-a-dozen brands which advertised in this movie. Chevrolet Aveo, obviously, but also Castrol GTX, MetLife, McDonald's (okay, that may have been co-incidental), JK Tyre, and a few others which I've forgotten.
Then there was the issue of RV attacking and over-turning Rusty's, which I touched upon as the reason why I deducted half a point from the movie's rating. I really didn't like that attitude of giving-it-back, an-eye-for-an-eye, and revenge. Everything is not fair in love and war. And sports. You play by the rules. Of course, that फिरंगी shouldn't have done that to poor old RV, but why did Our Man have to do the same thing to his arch-rival? If he knew what it is to suffer an injury in sports, why did he have to do that to someone else?
The cousin with whom I saw the movie remarked that it was necessary for RV to make Rusty realize the latter's mistake. But as I said, having gone through hell himself, would one sportsman want to make another go through the same fire?
So after returning from the driving school, where we learned about how change tyres, replace engine oil, brake oil, and a fan-belt which probably the insructor himself had never changed in his life; how to distinguish brake oil (he made me the tester- I dipped the right index finger right into the stuff, and it came out burning), how to shift gears et al, and of course, how the engine works: हवा और टेल के मिश्रण को करंट देके फाध्तें हैं, और उससे एक शक्ति पैदा होती है...anyway, after returning from the driving school, I have been sleeping half a dozen hours....there was general morbidity- problem in the stomach, things stuck inside the esophagus, and body stiff from an unnaturally long sleep, and then a slight fever. Argh!!!
There were a couple of things I forgot to mention in the previous (ta ra rum pum वाला) post. Like the new buisness of advertising through movies. There were atleast half-a-dozen brands which advertised in this movie. Chevrolet Aveo, obviously, but also Castrol GTX, MetLife, McDonald's (okay, that may have been co-incidental), JK Tyre, and a few others which I've forgotten.
Then there was the issue of RV attacking and over-turning Rusty's, which I touched upon as the reason why I deducted half a point from the movie's rating. I really didn't like that attitude of giving-it-back, an-eye-for-an-eye, and revenge. Everything is not fair in love and war. And sports. You play by the rules. Of course, that फिरंगी shouldn't have done that to poor old RV, but why did Our Man have to do the same thing to his arch-rival? If he knew what it is to suffer an injury in sports, why did he have to do that to someone else?
The cousin with whom I saw the movie remarked that it was necessary for RV to make Rusty realize the latter's mistake. But as I said, having gone through hell himself, would one sportsman want to make another go through the same fire?
Thursday, May 3
Ta-ra-rum-pum
Do you remember Jo Jeeta Wahi Sikandar? It starred Aamir Khan and Juhi Chawla, long before the latter went and had a baby and started doing Punjabi movies. Just imagine that movie in NYC, replace bicycles with cars, and of course replace the actors, and you have Ta Ra Rum Pum. Certainly, there's more to this movie than that, but the theme remains the same.
I'd give it only 5 outta 10. Earlier, I was giving it 4.5, but that was before the producers managed to thrill you with the obvious climax. That made me give it 5.5. However, the fact that Saiffy busted Rustin in the end made me deduct .5 to get 5 outta 10.
The move no doubt thrills, but then there isn't much laughter. You feel happy, but there aren't many jokes. Forgivable. The music, though, is really clichéd and boring. There is supposed to be sadness in the movie, but it just doesn't go deep enough. I mean, they're poor and so happy, and you don't feel their anxiety much. No steep valley, only a gradual depression.
And lastly, it is too conventional. Too much a family movie. I saw it with dear good old mummy, and at one point I saw her nodding her head vigourously. She's someone who looks for morals everywhere, and I just knew she loves this movie. Add to that the fact that it is typical bollywood. Rich girl marries poor boy and father refuses, and then attempts to dole out money. reminds you of something???
I'd have enjoyed the first half much more had I not temporarily lost my wallet (It was found below the seat during intermission). This was my first movie north of Patel Nagar's Satyam, at M2k in Pitampura. The place used to be barren, and is now filled with empty malls, in which the only thing that works is an ascending escalator (they didn't put a descending one- after all, it's easier to climb down stairs!), McDonald's (their burgers didn't have lettuce- global warming has depleted the stocks this time round), and of course, the multiplex, whose layout reminds me so much of DT. Alas!
I'd give it only 5 outta 10. Earlier, I was giving it 4.5, but that was before the producers managed to thrill you with the obvious climax. That made me give it 5.5. However, the fact that Saiffy busted Rustin in the end made me deduct .5 to get 5 outta 10.
The move no doubt thrills, but then there isn't much laughter. You feel happy, but there aren't many jokes. Forgivable. The music, though, is really clichéd and boring. There is supposed to be sadness in the movie, but it just doesn't go deep enough. I mean, they're poor and so happy, and you don't feel their anxiety much. No steep valley, only a gradual depression.
And lastly, it is too conventional. Too much a family movie. I saw it with dear good old mummy, and at one point I saw her nodding her head vigourously. She's someone who looks for morals everywhere, and I just knew she loves this movie. Add to that the fact that it is typical bollywood. Rich girl marries poor boy and father refuses, and then attempts to dole out money. reminds you of something???
I'd have enjoyed the first half much more had I not temporarily lost my wallet (It was found below the seat during intermission). This was my first movie north of Patel Nagar's Satyam, at M2k in Pitampura. The place used to be barren, and is now filled with empty malls, in which the only thing that works is an ascending escalator (they didn't put a descending one- after all, it's easier to climb down stairs!), McDonald's (their burgers didn't have lettuce- global warming has depleted the stocks this time round), and of course, the multiplex, whose layout reminds me so much of DT. Alas!
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