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Dirtscapes

Read. Suffer. Try to Enjoy.

A Farewell To Agrawal's - In all Earnest

Saturday, January 01, 2011
Today's paper read like the proverbial morning cuppa. Only this time, it was strong enough to jolt self out of years of blogging slumber.

Well, you know this has to special right?









Agrawal's Classes (Ideal for Scholars) is downing shutters.

Big deal you might say, if you're not from these parts. But for any Mumbai Science HSC student, there is a lot of context here. Especially if you were lucky enough to have got an admit into the hallowed portals of 1st floor, Harganga Mahal. Oh, in case I didn't make it really clear, you got an admit, you just didn't enrol by throwing money. Right. There was a CUT-OFF to get ADMISSION here. A 'COACHING CLASS'. (Show me any other place which had the cojones to do that, and I will convince you that Mumbai has gone to the dogs. Wait, do I need to...?)

The SSC Marksheet - Science+Maths total - would determine whether you were good enough to enrol here. I remember rushing for an Agrawal's admit immediately after my SSC results were out, and then worrying about which Junior college to go to. The joy on dear Mother's face was of Nirupa Roy proportions on learning that I had made the grade by one mark. "You have made us proud, and our struggle was worth it", et al.(If this sounds too melo, well, she had the habit of subtly pointing to the neon logo, whenever we would pass by Dadar TT, ever since I was one.)

All in all, a very smart business model by the man. If you take the cream of a city's students, and subject them to a really bitchin', bad-ass boot camp, you are bound to top the HSC lists too. Which really gives their proclamation that 'Top ranking students almost always come from Agrawal's classes' a very very smug sheen indeed.

By the time I was in, Agru's offered only vacation batches - where we had to wolf down the entire HSC syllabus, in a generous 3 month period. This led to discovering areas about self that one didn't ever know - prime fact being that the human brain is incapable of concentrating on Limits and Calculus after half an hour. This is where the seeds of that seminal life skill called Zoning Out were sown. Probably the single biggest thing I have taken away from Agru's and used in Life. Which is saying a lot.

Agru's weekly tests would be exercises in the worst kind of sadism possible, with questions airlifted from IIT JEE levels. There would be just one question related to what was taught in class, and all the rest were barbed wire underwear masquerading as 'Application of Knowledge'. Prime Example? Physics 2 - "Why do farmers plough their fields in winter, and not in summer?" (This still sticks, after more than a decade. The trauma.)

Held in IES Dadar, with a marriage unfurling outside your classroom, what with (Shrikhand+Puri+Batata Bhaji) fumes creeping up your nostrils, shehnai white noise, and you cooped in Fourth Standard benches, it was barely enough to just write your name and roll number without wincing, leave alone answer gems like the above.

To pile on the joyousness of it all, there was a mandatory half an hour minimum period to be spent in the classroom, irrespective of whether you wanted to write past the first question or not. Which in my case, was 11 times out of 10.

The sheer evil genius of this whole show, was manifested in the Report Cards. Which arrived by good old Indian Post, for your parents to admire and cherish. More so, when they had the highest scores, the average score, and your ward's score, all neatly laid out, with mug shots of the toppers. Was something I really looked forward to.

Agru's had a great selection of profs, ranging from the pits to absolute stud-boys, and everything in between. You couldn't get a better deal though, for the price you paid. Their entire fees would cover one subject's tuition fees for 'Private' (sic). Individual attention be damned. Some real dudes who taught there who still trigger unbearable nostalgia attacks are

  • Prof Babu ("LimtuponLimitSumofLimitCompleteIt!!!!!")
  • Prof Vengsarkar ("IIT Question... very popular question, give it some thought.")
  • Prof Awatramani ("You are my students... How CAN you fail?!")
  • Prof Kadali ("Hello Hello Alkane, Dihalo Alkane")
  • Prof Kulkarni ("In general...")
  • Prof Dhir Singh ("Yes please")

D Damodar functioned as the un-official canteen for Agru's, and a couple of samosas a day, served as the highlight, where you could commiserate with other wounded fellow men, marvelling at the pincer attacks of the subjects before and after.

Agru's peons were the friendliest people on earth, and had sweeping executive powers to make you stand outside as punishment, in case you were late for the lectures. Their word was final. Even friendlier were the sari shop owners just below the building, who would shoo us away like cattle, if we blocked their display windows while waiting to be let up. Evidently, they lost crores in five minutes. Heartwarming.

Agru's memories are something which will stay with me for a long time, and ironically outlive Agru's itself. It is sad to see them wind up, and it is like one part of your life which you thought would be there for ever. Fact of the matter is, that nothing ever is.

Quod Erat Demonstrandum.

posted by Tapan at 1:12 PM

The Sawatdee Digest

Saturday, March 06, 2010


Some lessons learnt from a week in Thailand

--> Leaving your slippers outside a temple doesn't have to be a panic-attack inducing affair. There are no hustlers outside offering to look after your precious 'paadukas'. You leave them in stands (free!) and you come back to find them exactly where you left them.

--> Tiger cubs are not as adorable and docile as you think they are. They momentarily fool you into "Awww... they are just like kittens" mode. Till they roar, and try to swipe your epidermis off. And then shoot you another baleful look.

--> Carrying army rations of Gujju savouries just-in-case, is not worth it. There are tons of desi restaurants almost everywhere you go. With passable food.

--> An omelette is not necessarily always flat.

--> If it looks like a pea, and it's a Thai curry, it's probably not a good idea to shovel spoonfuls of them into your mouth.

--> Singha beer totally rocks. Till you try Singha Lite. Countless bottles of which later, there's no rocking, just spinning.

--> If the board says it's a massage parlour, and if the building is huge-ass and posh, and if the crowd going in and shooting you quizzical looks (since you are with the Missus) is all male, then there's a very good chance that the place is not as wholesome as it seems. Think this.

--> The night life in Pattaya is a total piranha like assault on your senses. You think you have a handle on what it might be like before going in, but nothing prepares you for what lurks there, on Walking Street. All I can say is the words 'boom boom', 'ping pong' and 'Russian ballet' will never be the same for me anymore.

--> Getting currency exchanged after a trip down forementioned Walking Street is not a good idea. You will keep smiling, even though the exchange rate sucks. And even after the lady has warned you twice before handing you the forex.

--> Thai guides and vendors surprise you with their Hindi. "Chaaalo!", "Teen shau paachaash baht!", "Naariyal paani!". Till they sucker punch you with their Marathi. "Chalaa! Chalaa! Kaka, Kaki!" (not too good, if you still harbour visions of youth for self), "Basa!", "Utha!". Mere watan ki saundhi saundhi khusboo and all that.

--> Having seen Ong-bak (highly recommended) and Prig-Kee-Noo (Ditto. Had seen this way back on MTV when I was in school) are great ice-breakers.

--> While shopping, it is a good idea to just pay up, if the price seems fair enough. Bargaining to reduce already basement bargain rates will cause those welcoming smiles to vanish like breath on a razor blade. And invite some really warm treatment. Like quoting 10 times the price suddenly, and asking you to go and die if you cannot afford to buy it.

--> Traffic can be bearable, if no one honks. And especially if the driver comes extremely well prepared with an ice-box cooler full of water and Coke, and a couple of newspapers. When faced with a long wait, swig some cola, read the papers, and move when everybody does. No melodrama, no cardiacs. The no honking policy also applies to vehicles behind cabbies who are negotiating fares, and the signal is full chalu. Respect.

--> There is a universe (called Bangkok), where a taxi ride (for an AC Toyota Corolla, 6 people) is cheaper than an autorickshaw one.

--> It is a pleasant surprise not to be harassed majorly (negligible by Mumbai standards) by 'friends' outside airports, hotels and touristy places. It hits home even harder, when there are prominent signs all over Mumbai airport arrival, asking you to say 'NO' to touts.

--> God bless digital cameras. Coming back and marvelling at the sheer number of redundant photos of the same thing you have clicked, makes you feel decadent on an almost Roman-emperor-before-it-all-crashed level. Or like an IT professional in 2007.

--> Saying thank you and please so often starts to grate on you. Till you catch the return flight home, that is. Full of extremely well-behaved bretheren, it feels so, so right. As soon as the boarding gates open, there's the stampede. Seat number wise boarding calls be damned, only to be turned away at the boarding gate. After boarding, there's yelling, there's ordering the air hostesses for glasses of water ("I also want water.") around even before take off, there's a massive fight because one didn't get a 'special meal' which is resolved only on receipt of an exclusive arrest offer by the Captain himself, no less. Then there's cranky middle aged farts who are in a tearing hurry to get to their seat ("What if the plane starts to take off while I'm standing! Gasp!"), exhorting you to "Do fastly fastly!", when you are searching for space to stow your measly backpack amidst the rough Johhny Walker seas in the overhead bins.

Sure ain't no place like home. Especially when you start feeling it right on the tarmac at Suvarnabhumi.

posted by Tapan at 11:42 AM

You Hab My Attention

Monday, February 01, 2010
Finally, a reason to click on 'Publish Post' at good old Blogger. Courtesy Greatbong.

My Top 10 Hindi Movie lines

1) Abbe O guroor ke mitti se bani hui ghamand ki moorti!!!! - Charanon Ki Saugandh
(Prabhuji at his romantic best.)

2) Na goliyon ki bauchar se, na talwar ki dhaar se, bandha darta hai, to sirf Parwardigar se... - Tirangaa
(The mother of all 'entries'.)

3) Chhilegi chhilegi. Kyon, chhilegi na? - Maine Pyaar Kiya
(Cute. When it comes from Bhagyashree.)

4) Shekhar Gupta, kya aap Damini se pyaar karte hain? - Damini
(Cuter. Especially when it comes from Sunny.)

5) Sumri mein kumri - Rakhwala
(One of Shakti's lesser knowns.)

6) Abbe, agar tu Bijli hai, to main paamhhaus hoon... paamhhaus - Aag Se Khelenge
(That's 'pumphouse', the way Aannil 24 Kaaboor says it. Note: If you have seen this movie, please leave me a comment. I am sick of being the only one.)

7) Bhaaaktaaaawaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr - Hum
(Cathartic bliss.)

8) Yaay loob loo tibiya... - Shikari
(That's 'I love You' in Russian. This is the Prabhuji-F C Mehra flick. Note: Again, If you have seen this movie.. etc etc)

9) Aila, Juhi Chawla! - Andaz Apna Apna
(A precursor to the innumerable one-liners that hit you every 30 seconds later on... picked this, purely cos it's kinda the first one out of the gate.)

10) Khoya to maine hai 'Deddy'. Aapne kya khoya? Asli pyaar,apnapannnnn, maine .... Bihari ke ghar mein paaya. Bi-hhh-aari. - Khudgarz
(Jeetu at his anguished best, on learning that 'Deddy' (played by the ever adorable Saeed "Of course, betchey," Jaffrey) has razed Bihari's little 'hotulll')

My Top 10 English Movie lines

1) Yeah well. The Dude abides. - The Big Lebowski
(Again, there's just too many to choose from. This is the one with maximum skull thwack impact. Sums it all up, don't it?)

2) Why don't you quit? It'd be cheaper for both of us. - Midnight Run
(See this movie, am not going to give this away. One of De Niro's lesser known gems.)

3) You talkin' to me? - Taxi Driver
(No explanations required, eh?)

4) Run, run, you stupid son of a bitch! Run!!!!!!!! - Forrest Gump
(Somehow, this sticks...)

5) Our Great War's a spiritual war... our Great Depression is our lives - Fight Club
(...)

6) You come into my house on the day my daughter is to be married and you ask me to do murder - for money. - The Godfather
(Gives you a VERY good idea early on, that this is not gonna be your average movie experience...)

7) Then you'll see, that it is not the spoon that bends, it is only yourself. - The Matrix
(A little too Zen mebbe, but yep, it works.)

8) What business is it of yours where I'm from, friendo? - No Country For Old Men
(Chilling. Probably the best scene in the movie.)

9) Let's sort the buyers from the spyers, the needy from the greedy, and those who trust me from the ones who don't, because if you can't see value here today, you're not up here shopping. You're up here shoplifting. - Lock, Stock And Two Smoking Barrels
(Again, gives you a VERY good idea early on.. etc.. etc..)

10) You complete me - The Dark Knight.
(The one from Jerry Maguire came in a close second, actually.)

Quote

1. On your blog, provide a link to this page.(http://greatbong.net/book).

2. Then write down your top 10 Hindi movie lines or top 10 English movie
lines (You can do both if you want. Only one set is required for the
contest). If you cannot think of top 10, make it top 5. Cannot think of
even 5? Make it top 3. No problem. Only restriction: no two lines from
same movie. This done to make it fair for other movies so that they dont
get swamped by Gunda or Loha or Sholay.

3. Tag five friends to do the same.

4. Go to the comment-space of this post and post your blog's link so I can go and read it.

Unquote

I hereby tag SEV, Aarbee, Supremus, Guns, and of course GB. Heh heh.

posted by Tapan at 9:03 PM

The King Is Dead. Long Live The King.

Friday, June 26, 2009
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.

Travel well, MJ.

posted by Tapan at 10:14 PM

RAIT Alumni Network

Monday, May 18, 2009

All ye mangy RAITians out there...

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. :)

Also on twitter: http://twitter.com/RAITalumni

The official RAIT Alumni Mag(RAM) presence on Facebook is at
http://bit.ly/RAM_on_Facebook
On twitter: http://twitter.com/RAITalumniMag

posted by Tapan at 9:11 PM

The Dev D Movie Review

Friday, March 20, 2009
(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.

posted by Tapan at 12:35 PM

The Halwa Identity/Supremacy/Ultimatum - The Dance Dance Movie Review

Sunday, September 07, 2008
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...

The End.

posted by Tapan at 7:18 PM