Circa 1989. A grainy VHS tape on Cable ('Bad') was my first exposure to a performer who was so compelling to watch, that it left me really dazed. To put it frankly, hadn't seen anything like it before.This was a different kettle of fish when compared to ABBA, for sure.
What puzzled me most at the time, was why the dude was proudly calling himself 'Bad'? Wasn't that a you know... bad thing? I couldn't understand a word of what he was singing (WTF were Shamone! Owww! Cootchie coo! supposed to mean anyways?!). But there was something about the way he moved, and the way he performed, that demanded that you kept watching.He was the first point of entry into the big bad world of 'western' music for me. There was no MTV here, yet. He was the personification of what the west had to offer, music-wise. My only exposure to that stuff prior to 'Bad' was in the form of a couple of mixtapes filched from a cousin, full of 80s pop gems like 'We Built This City', 'Madonna's Eyes' and 'Party All The Time'. This guy's music was on another totally different class level, and it was evident that there was a lot more to pop than 'Love Touch'. Like good, bouncy music which didn't sound right off the bat cheesy, even to a kid in the third standard.
Add to that the dancing moves which seeped into my veins like Smirnoff Green Apple Twist does these Friday nights. They were emulated so relentlessly by yours truly, that when puberty really kicked in, my hand would go to my (*blush*) crotch every five minutes, do that patent grab and (gentle) twist, and my mouth would twitch and sneer, and go "Hee hee, Hee hee HEEEEE" all in one smooth, spinal-cord-controlled motion. It got to a point wherein I had to actually learn how to consciously control it in slightly more austere and public surroundings.
The moonwalk was a slightly more difficult proposition. Try hard as you would to perfect it, you invariably ended up looking like you were walking backwards trying not to step in something of animal/human origin. And of course, classmates at that age can be very ruthless in their criticism. Childhood innovations then included sprinkling the mother's Emami talcum powder in generous quantities on the floor, and then achieving markedly better results. This workaround lasted (quite gleefully, I must add) till that parsimonious lady suddenly found herself buying two tins a month. After that, it was trying it out with socks on feet, which was not exactly the same thing, but worked all the same.
I still remember watching Moonwalker - The movie with desperate devotion, and not caring a damn about niceties like plot, and such assorted blahs. He turns into a robot at the end of the movie, and a spaceship too. The way I looked at it, 'Hell, if he could do the moonwalk, and do that bend in the 'Smooth Criminal' video, he's entitled to do just about anything that he wants. I'm watching.'
'Thriller' was yet another dose of pure childhood pleasure. Every bleeding song, was radio worthy - there was just no filler material on it. The sound was a little dated for me, when compared to 'Bad', but there was something very fresh about his voice on that record. A sure grower, and once hooked, 'Beat It' and the title song were on heavy rotation. My parents especially were very disturbed by that laugh at the end of the title song.
'Dangerous' happened at the peak of my MJ obsession. I remember staring at the cassette cover for hours, while the cassette was blaring on in the background. The man released videos that single handedly took the scene to another level. At that age, a super sultry Naomi Campbell (phew!) in the mix definitely made things more interesting. 'Black Or White' even featured an Indian dancer! Yay! MTV must have made a sound fortune off the back of this album's videos alone... played in an endless loop, on the hour to boot. Of course, that was when you know, MTV used to play music videos (remember those?!) almost exclusively (gasp!). 'Smooth Criminal' remains one of my all time favourite videos. Ever.
Post 'Dangerous', I kind of outgrew my obsession with the whole thing, and gradually drifted off his music completely. Part of the whole growing up process, I guess. Add to that his personal woes which really affected his output as an artiste, and overshadowed his achievements to a large extent. To the point where the music was totally forgotten, and all that was projected was a freak in financial trouble.Of late, the odd iPod shuffle randomness would invariably hit me with a shot glass worth of nostalgia - think the intro of 'Wanna Be Starting Something' or 'The Way You Make Me Feel'.
His reach, and his popularity, at the peak of his powers, was a truly global phenomenon (tip - think of all those countless, milked-to-death-due-to-dehydration 'Mai Ka Lal Jai Kishan' jokes, in the best of Bollywood comedies on offer). There is no one today, to cut across barriers like he did, and achieve the same kind of connect with audiences the world over. Blame it on the shortened shelf lives of musicians these days, or the shorter attention spans of people in general, or maybe, just accept that there was no pop star even remotely in his league, once he faded from the limelight. Think boy bands and the unspeakable things they did to the pop music industry in general. All but killed whatever little hope you had of listening to something with a little more depth, even though it was labelled 'pop'. Everything these days is an ephemeral niche. He was a lot more than that.
Do check out the official RAIT Alumni site. A spiffy effort and a good place to reconnect, and find like minded people there to moan about how you wish that 'those' years would keep replaying themselves somehow. Yeah. That's exactly how good life outside Vidyanagari is. :)
(A little late in the day, but hey...) An idyllic village scene. Young girl rushing to meet her paramour. Gets him parathas, but forgets to get anything to go with them. Heated words exchanged. Something on the lines of "Kaat loonga" "Noch loongi" And right there at the beginning, we are exposed to the inherent a-hole-ness within the character 'loosely modelled' after Devdas. No Baby Guddu/Master Raju stuff here, for sure.
This irreverent problem child grows up to be exactly that later on. Without letting go of any of his trademark a-hole-ness of course. Which is a landmark in our type of cinema. You would be hard pressed to remember the last time you saw such a complete jerk in a Bollywood lead role.
Dev D is a nicely twisted take on the old Devdas yarn. And that is really an understatement.The old plot has been reworked very well, with the basic storyline being the same, but with enough tweaking to spin it in a couple of completely different directions.
What's so different? Here goes...
The Dev D - Paro section:
There sure ain't no cut to kissing flowers/thunderclaps/burning logs here to show some action. What we get is a very good idea, even if the camera is not really letting you totally into the picture, so to speak. The sheer primal, get-on-with-it nature of the 'romance' shown is totally not afraid to get animalistic. Nor bashful either. The hand pump scene stands out here, and is worth a mention. (And no, it's not what it sounds like :D) The language, and the zero melodrama laden dialogue delivery are yet another plus.
For a change, Punjab is shown in a brilliantly non Yash-Raj kinda wash, and it frankly takes a little getting used to. The mustard fields are there alright, but minus the dancing nancies with VIBGYOR outfits. What you get are authentic looking houses, and grimy old economy factories.
Also, you kinda learn that relationships can be complicated. Yes, and we really see just how. You see how easy it is to throttle something that you thought was there all along, taken for granted. All it takes is one heated moment, and you have something to live with and fight against, for probably the rest of your life. Or the best years of your life at least...
The Dev D - Chandramukhi section:
A search for distraction throughout the grime of Delhi's underbelly is very evocatively shot - complete with trippy sequences galore (these include showing paraphernalia which induce these trips in the first place), blue lit nightclubs and a bunch of three dancing dudes. The not-so-sordid nature of the 'international' side of the world's oldest business was also quite a revelation. Chunni babu as the facilitator and the owner is Dev's guiding light through the whole walk through sludge, so to speak.
Chandramukhi here, serves as a fantastic foil to the leading guy, reminding him about what he really is, at every available chance. The chemistry is nicely done, without devolving into anything maudlin. No overt preaching too.
Till the end, where the director hits home with the fact that the only place left to go really, when you hit rock bottom, is up. It sounds like an awful cliche on paper (straight out of some newspaper's 'Wellness and Health' supplement), but the execution here, is niftily done. The redemption track seems a little bit rushed, but then, one way of looking at it is that what construes a life changing event, is totally up to you. No amount of external hammering can make it here, it's totally your own call.
A must watch if you want something really novel. No pun intended.
Ever had that expectant buzz before watching a movie, just as the starting credits begin to roll, trying to guess whether you will have a good time or not? And then, when you are shown this, you just KNOW that you will, your whole body relaxes, and a smile just refuses to leave your lips once it creeps there, almost like a rictus? And so, persistent reader, begins yet another journey into Mithun land... (hanging on tight isn't just recommended, it's mandatory. Ah well, almost...)
Out of the blocks, we are treated to an ailing childhood version of Prabhuji (Ramu), who clamours for a little 'Halwa' to cure his sickness. Medicines be damned. Gratuitous elder sis dotes on him, as his singer/performer parents walk in (with 'Halwa' of course). Now, they all stay in a hovel, and are harassed for rent by the mandatory miserly landlord with a topi, who just can't get enough of the fact that they have enough dosh to stuff themselves senseless with Halwa, but not pay their bleeding rent!(There is no justice in the world... seriously.) He gives them a final-ish warning, and spitefully confiscates the Halwa, leaving poor li'l Ramu pawing at thin air, and his sister pawing at him in an attempt at sweet (pun intended) mollification.
The 'rents then take off to a function organized by a Satyr like Maharaja-of-all-he-sees Thakur (played incredibly, incredibly well by the sublime Amrish Puri). Now, the mother puts on a super show, not actually in line with her humble bharatiya (singing) naari roots, which is enough to drive the Thakur into a series of Beavis and Butthead-ian mental escapades (song in question being 'Zoo Zoo Zoobie Zoobie Zoobie' - which Ramu specifically asks his mother to sing, cos it's his fav song. You start to get a little uncomfortable with the idea, when she launches into sensual overdrive midway, making 'happy woman noises' along with the usual singing). So much so, that he tries to invite them over for a private show, (which is very cleverly rebuffed by Ramu's pater) and then when all reason and lusting fails, has him popped off, and captures the mater, who escapes into the endless jungles of his terrain.
Leaving Ramu and Sis, at the mercy of the streets, and later, good old Juhu beach where he promptly passes out due to his Halwa cravings. Sis cadges a buck, and stuffs his face with it. And then dishes out that grandfather of all mission statement metaphors for life,
"Tujhe agar halwa khaana hai, to tujhe naachna hoga. Dance. (Pause for emphasis). Dance. (With real gusto)." Brilliant. And that's why you know why the movie is called what it is. Happy now?
Immediately, Li'l P breaks out into some mean scissoring legs routines in the azure Juhu beach waters (with a super porcine halwa vendor with a mound of really vile looking halwa and the immortal - "Aa geyahh aa geyahh, halba baala aa geyahh" in the foreground) and voila, cut to Big P, generally living it up.
Now, Ramu, Sis (Smita Patil) and his bunch of merry men (and women), are basically eking out a living from (dance)show to (dance dance)show (that pun felt good), searching for that one big break. For this, they gatecrash Parsi gatherings ("Everybody dance with pa-pa-pa, Everybody dance with ma-ma/1-2-3-4, Hum saare masti ke chor" - featuring some killer blastbeats and Morello-ish guitar work with Bulls On Parade scratch effects from Thathee Thapooll... in probably the role of his lifetime), meet music managers called David Brown (Hmmm...), and bowl over music moguls disguised as bellhops (and just in case you are wondering how, by feeding him... you guessed it, intrepid reader. Halwa). Till they land at an audition for the hottest new talent - braving a nasty Binjo Babu's stonewalling (played with effortful elan by Dalip Tahil). Here, the heroine makes an appearance. Binjo is head over heels for our lady (Hmmmm), and all but ensures that she wins with some bitchy poll rigging, till P and his gang pip her to the post. Armed with a classic like "Sooooperrrr Dancerrrrrrrr - Aaye hainnn aaye hainnn", does anybody have a chance in (rigged, manipulated) heaven? Pah! Prabhuji and team walk home with the trophy and darn near the trophy factory as well...
Overnight, Ramu becomes Romeo, and becomes the (buttered) toast of the nation. Fame greets him warm, and he just can't say good bye (Yeah...Good byeeaaaahhhhhhh!!!!). Faced with the pressures and pleasures of sudden fame, Romeo pithily marks "Yeh Zindagi bhi badi ajeeb cheez hai, kabhi paani maango, to manaa kar deti hai. Aur kabhi paani maango, to whiskey pila deti hai", while he is scarfing down a free shot at a pub. Just as you are wiping your eyes, the heroine makes another entry, with a super classy cabaret number. Romeo gets plastered, and just as he's started off his brand new Maruti Omni, the heroine's-dignity-to-be-saved situation arises. Loverboy brushes off the clearly uimpressive danger, and escorts her home. Love blossoms, and it's the first flush of spring and all that(cos she's an innocent college girl, who does cabaret shows just cos she likes to dance. And of course, because she lost that competition). Romeo invites her home for a platonic live-in.
Till...
Things start to fall apart, thanx to an evil nexus formed between Binjo (smarting after he lost the heroine to P) and our Thakur (smarting... well... just because you know... he CAN). These guys decide to hit Prabhuji where it would hurt him the most, by convincing Thathee to torture Romeo's sister (almost forgot, they're married). In much the same manner as Sonny would lose it in the Godfather, Prabhuji is tempted. But his sis keeps playing the defender-of-the-suhaag-order, thus leading to a lot of suppressed emotions, which start to fry Prabhuji's circuits. He starts hallucinating to the point where he beats the stuffing out of his poor drummer at a show, imagining him to be Thathee instead. David Brown waits for Romeo to stop smoking whatever he's smoking, and then when the going gets too tough, drops him like a hot batata wada, asking the heroine to take over instead. And take over she does... wowing audiences wherever she goes.
Till one fine day, (preggers) sis croaks, after a violent spat gone wrong with Thathee (intriguingly called Resham). But not before absolving him of all criminal troubles, which opens his Binjo-and-Thakur blinkered eyes.
Soon, it takes a little bit of living like a commoner for P to realize that maybe he was missing too much of a good thing (read the free booze shots, adulation, and the woman he loved - he throws her out of the house, asking her to shut the lights out on her way out), and that he has to generally try to be the best damn dancer there is, to give his dear sis something to smile about from the wispy white fog above.
Till it all boils down to a super concentrated climax (not totally unlike that hideous Maggi tomato soup you get from those coffee machines at work). The heroine has a show at that aspirational venue for all pop stars, Jalpaiguri, the road to which happens to pass thru the Thakur's magic kingdom. His men ambush the cavalcade, and out of the woodwork pops Romeo's mom, who has been running from the Thakur in the jungles for the last quarter of a century. In a spotless white saree, no doubt. She saves the evening, and from there on, it's one man's quest to get his life back. After an extremely short reunion with Mom, it's time for him to dance. Why? Just... Dance. Dance Dance Dance. Dance is Life... Life is Dance! Prabhuji dances for his sis, his mom, his chick, and his fans. He dances for the years, dances for the laughter, dances for the tears. He dances for today, because maybe tomorrow, the good Lord will take it away. In short... he dances for his life. Within an inch of it too, when his liver starts acting up. Till the Thakur draws a bead on Romeo, Resham strings it and dies with an apology on his once venomous lips. Prabhuji polishes off the evil Thakur like so much Halwa, and then walks regally off stage with family.
And of course, leaving you, who has read thus far, wondering where in tarnation the Halwa exactly went...
Things no one tells you when you're growing up. (Actually, maybe it's better no one didn't quite spell it all out... :))
1) Life will never meet you halfway. You would be very naive to expect it to.
2) If something looks too good to be true, or is almost/exactly what you have been craving for, for ages, chances are that there WILL be a catch, which shatters those rose tinted wrap-arounds just a little. And the degree of the catch is directly proportional to how badly you want that thing in the first place.
3) Decisions can get REAL tough as time goes by. So much so, that you wish somebody else would take some calls for you instead.
4) Do not cast disparaging glances at your classmates in school/college just because they don't seem tuned in enough. As it turns out, your college score card has VERY little to do with how far you go in the real world.
5) No one has it all figured out. No one. If it seems like they do, they are doing a fantastic job of covering it all up. And you are doing a fantastic job of buying what they are selling.
6) There will always be people who have it easier than you. Deservingly or undeservingly so. Get used to it.
7) 'Life mein aur thoda settle hone ka hai yaar', is alas, but a pipe dream. An easier way is to change the definition of 'settled' as you pull on...
8) Compromise is not such a dirty word. It actually gets to be a little bit of a good friend as time goes by.
9) Beware of people who tell you that once you achieve 'x', it will all be OK. Remember all your relatives telling you how bad the 10th is, and once you are in the 11th, it will be relaxed? Then it was the 12th boards, once they are done with, the degree would be even more chilled out. And then, once you get a campus placement, you're all set. So on and so ****ing forth, if you get the drift...
10) Hindsight is ALWAYS 20-20. But looking back, it's still a bit fuzzy...
Just when you thought it was OK to skim furtively past by here, hoping for no updates, here is one...
Traffic is one shrew which seems to get deviously untameable (sic?) with every growing year. Now with the monsoons here, one kind of gets them heebie freaking jeebies... especially when you've watched lone dust roads get beaten into decent 4 lane concrete roads with almost filial joy. Only to watch that spanking new concrete being dug up again, to pave (is there a pun here?) the way for the Metro Rail. And also when you have statements full of self-belief like 'We are ready for the monsoons' from the powers that be. That inherent confidence in those statements is eerie. Almost as eerie as the wedgie that the monsoons give them every ****ing year.
Which brings us to the topic at hand. When you have all the time in the world (and the next) thanks to yebauve paragraphu, the following can provide a lot of relief as you shall soon see. Or something like that...
Just in case that trippy tissue box is clouding things up, it says 'Sab Lal Hai'. Which makes it very clear now, yes? Good. (Note - I gave up trying to figure out what that meant, after about 3 tries and a half-hour wikipedia jaunt.)
Countless stories abound about the virility of our brothers from the heartland. I'm sure you've heard that rural legend which goes like "Hamre bhai sambhaalte hain..." (nudge nudge, wink wink). This is just the confirmation you need. Just a plain vanilla "Who's yo' Daddy" ain't enough here. No sir. "Who's yo' GrandDaddy?!!!" is more like it. (Grand)Daddy liiiike... (Grand)Daddy liiiike...
And of course, lastly, the sucker punch. Pithy, cryptic, and somehow, very very tragic. Has a very 'human condition' vibe to it, as the artsy types would put it. Had me thinking till I reached office. And looked up Wikipedia for the colour Red.
Presenting some visual distractions. A little more cynicism than usual, might help you appreciate them.(Barely, though...)
1) When you are out to enjoy a meal, and regally ask for the menu,the below pic hitting you first thing out of the block, doesn't exactly serve as a very appetizing start to the scheme of things. One mother of an appetite killer, if there ever was one. Kind of reminded me of that poor dissected female rat, whose ovaries I had almost called testes, as part of my HSC Bio practicals viva.
2) While we are still on the subject (different joint), sudden radioactive visions appear out of nowhere on reading the indicated item (follow the arrow). Especially when you are hungry. Assuming of course, that the dragon isn't messing with your mind.
3) From a brand of 'multi purpose' tissues, with the typeface stuck seriously in the 80s, comes this naughtly little flourish. Check out that last bullet point. The grandmother of all etc's.
4) And finally, the clincher. There are no words. Just amazement.
