PC-less Alice in Temporary TV-land

Our desktop went on the blink—again—and I rediscovered TV—along with certain attendant truths.

I happen to be a homemaker-reader-blogger-spouse-parent. The two offspring now reside in different corners of the world...and my time is more or less my own, to follow inclination and sense.

The daily routine generally follows this pattern—give spouse breakfast while he watches a bit of tv; mostly shut off tv soon after (unless there is a charming Farooq Shaikh speaking sensibly and mellifluously in Urdu to a pretty equally well-spoken interviewer, as happened the other day); have breakfast, clean up, attend to maid—and sit down at desktop for a session of browsing-blogging-skyping. The rest of the day follows as per work schedule—and at the end of the day, late evening or so, there is some more tv, whatever spouse has finally settled on after a manic round of channel-browsing (in the manner of many men; more on this later, another blog post).

Now from the afore-mentioned lines, one thing is obvious—tv is rather low on my priority list. Not that I shun tv totally, oh no; I am not one of those who declaim in supercillious fashion—“I don’t watch tv’. It’s just that my tv viewing is limited; I'm a specific audience, not a random surfer. Occasionally I get drawn into a particular show—like Masterchef Australia -- when a family member tempts and draws me in. But with daughter away for the nonce—my next session of dedicated tv viewing will be if and when I make the effort for something that catches fancy.

Well, to get to the point—my tv set has my attention again, for the present, at least. The late morning browsing session has been replaced by some rediscovery of tv-land.

And here are some revelations from within the box.

1. Private news channels are as banal as ever. Also, a bit of a fraud. More time is devoted to commercials, than actual news. Besides, to a lay viewer, the news presentation and content seem, umm, slanted perhaps.

2. Doordarshan and its sister channels are as quaint and charming as before. While DD news is just about ok, features are generally good, worth a watch at the least. Thus it was that I got re-acquainted with Farooq Shaikh.

And not just Farooq saab. Bonus add-ons included scenes from Farooq’s films. So one got to watch Poonam Dhillon in her very first film (Noorie), plus all those alternative cinema stalwarts from the nineteen-eighties—an actually slim Satish Shah, a kooky Neena Gupta doing a comic turn in one of Farooq’s zany comedies; a young Shabana Azmi good as ever…well, the whole class of eighties, really. Now I have this urge to watch Gaman, Rang Birangi, Bazaar and all those forgotten charmers from those innocent times.

3. Movies on tv—ahhh. How long is it since I watched a full film on tv? Very long, really ; but, here I was watching on two consecutive mornings, two films, almost completely—meaning, I caught the films after they had started—but watched to the end. Interestingly both films starred a filmi favourite, and equally interestingly, it was fun to note the transformation of an actor from effortless charmer in mid-nineties to a still-in-there-trouper.

And yes, the other actors…Karisma Kapoor could act very well indeed, even though her film Raja Hindustani managed to self destruct from a fun and musical first half to a Bolly melodrama in the second half . Still, overall, RH was a good watch in its own way.

Far better of course, was the second Hindi film I watched, on a weekday morning. I had watched Rang De Basanti in a theatre , Feb 2006, loved it, despite its questionable nihilism and climax. Since then I have watched it a couple of times on video and of course recently on tv. As before, the film managed to move and simultaneously engage my attention and admiration. I just love the whole ensemble cast, the varied characters but especially those of  the young Muslim  pacifist  Aslam and rightwinger Lakman Pandey ( who finds himself reconsidering his rightist leanings).  Plus of course the music…fabulous, absolutely thrilling.

 Basically RDB is right up there among my favourite films.

Must report though that tv-land provides only this much and no more; by the end of the first week, the tv remote was contiuously being used, channels changed--all in vain; an old sitcom elicited some smiles, but otherwise the procession of boring news and silly bolly item numbers—it simple had me reaching for the remote. Back to waiting chores, and, my good ol’ friends -- books.

4. Rediscovery of Discovery, Fox, National Geographic and all knowledge-entertainment  channels—as usual worth every minute. Thus it was that I watched Paul Merton in China and somebody else in Argentina. The feature on China was like revisiting an old friend, but the one on Argentina—something fresh and new, a revelation.

A couple of days back, it was Paul Merton again, in India now, entertaining his blasé much travelled self in a Hyderabad ice-land, where blazered and well-covered Indians forked out Rs 250 for a chance to experience an artificially created indoor landscape of ice, snow and blower-driven winds. If I am not mistaken my home town Chennai too, has one such  polar- place.

Vide Discovery’s Animal Planet channel, I found myself getting reacquainted with the Tigers of India, the few that manage to survive . A new revelation was the use of robot driven moving cameras for use in film-capture of tigers, deer, monkeys, wild boar, the tiger cub-hunting leopard… the magnetic cast of jungle-India. Fascinatingly, some of these robot-cameras are each attached to an elephant’s tooth! A group of elephants steered by mahouts spend the day in the jungles of Pench Forest Reserve in Madhya Pradesh tracking a tigress and her cubs, through a whole year of recorded observation. Some cameras are also fixed at certain spots, notably water holes where all jungle animals come to slake their thirst, splash about, and cool off.

Robot cameras--What a unique, clever yet unobtrusive tool to capture undisturbed, the glorious reality of Wild India.

And yet another fascinating discovery was the National Geographic Channels’s In the Womb show. This line from their website says it all—

Using ground-breaking photography, state-of-the-art special effects and amazing 4D scans National Geographic's In The Womb takes us on a series of remarkable journeys into the extraordinary world of fetal development.

5. Watching one good film and one bad film—all in the space of one afternoon.

So, well into the second week of PC-lessness, I decided to check out the movie fare available on tv and watch one worthwhile film  plus one cheap-thrill flick. Luckily, I managed to get a sample of each kind. MGM was showing a musical, ‘Tom Sawyer’, an American production from—unbelievably—Readers’ Digest. The film was of course charming , sweet, funny—as expected. The unexpected pleasant surprise came from watching a very young Jodie Foster, playing Becky Thatcher.

Now  anybody wishing to see  this  nice sweet ol’ film--please do-- check  it on video, or watch out for its appearance on MGM channel. Here is a link that gives information about this 39 year old production--http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0070814/.

And to end this report about surviving-rediscovering tv—here is a bit of rant about one annoying Hindi film from recent times—Rascals, the BAD Hindi copy of a slight but charming American film—. the late eighties comedy, Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, starring a favourite (Michael Caine) and a couple of Holly veterans . The Hindi abomination Rascals easily wins my Golden Kela/Rasberry for the Worst Film of period 2001-2011. Starring two Hindi film ‘heroes’ (one 40 plus, the other 50 plus) in their worst possible roles, plus a 25 year old Himachali beauty who here manages to look sexy in an ugly manner, this is the sort of film that needs to be taught in film school, under the subject—How NOT to make a film. Crass, silly, vulgar, cheap, loud—watch it if you want cheap thrills.

And thus ends my two week PC-less holiday. The desktop is back—and the tv set has been ignored more or less, over the past twenty-four hours. I am NOT an IPL fan, so the April-May cricket carnival will go on without my passive participation. I will of course continue to peep in and catch whatever the spouse is surfing; will also as usual, check out newspaper listings, hoping to chance upon a long-awaited show…the usual city-life circus, it rolls on.

Rhyme from an old Diary

Mrs.  X  runs a heavenly home;

So  neat , so nice, such a nest.

The curtains are crisp,

The taps don’t drip --

 The house passes every blessed test.

Well almost every test;

For while I do swear

That  cockroaches don’t dare

To prance on her tables—

She’s just too  perfect, too  able.

The morning newspaper

Is in it’s place,

Yesterday’s is inside a shelf;

I can’t find a quick-stray  pin or a pen –

They’re all in their appointed stables.

There’s nothing unexpected,  no  sudden joy;

No  ad leaflets to laugh at.

The useless is thrown off,

The  latest displayed so –

To be used and promptly disposed off.

There's no shoebox old,

Brimming with tales,

Of a naughty birthday greeting,

Or a bauble that sparkles

With mischiveous memories

Of  a riotous party.

And  so  the  X   nest ,

So  squeaky-clean , so neat;

Still fails one final test—

To  my  seeking  mind

It

Is

Just,

Too  predictable,

So

Totally

Utterly

Boring.

Book Review: Ice Boys in Bell Bottoms—Krishna Shastri Devulapalli

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A quick review, in a nutshell --  This book is a laugh riot. Finally, a genuinely  funny, sweet, sensible Indian book about the angst of growing up. Two thumbs up!

It’s  been a  long time since  I’ve laughed out loud after reading an Indian writer’s English  prose. Maybe it happened last in the 90s —when  Upamanyu Chatterjee and his English August had one chuckling at the shenanigans of bureaucrats in small town India. Next,  Pankaj  Mishra had  the same effect with his  debut work travelogue, Butter Chicken in Ludhiana. Of course since then,  the internet space has thrown up a variety of LOL raisers, but by and large, Indian English fiction is generally dead serious, nostalgic, whimsical, sometimes twee, occasionally  risqué—but rarely funny, hilarious, in the mould of  a Sue Townsend or a Bill Bryson.

To get back on track—here is a debutant novelist bucking the trend –and having this reader-reviewer at least, in splits. ROFLing, to use internet forum  jargon.

Ice Boys in Bell Bottoms by Krishna  Shastri Devulapalli is a laugh riot  of a tale about growing up in Madras  of the nineteen seventies. The  book’s back page blurb tells us that it is the first of an intended trilogy. All  I  can say is—we’re waiting  KSD!

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The book  tells a highly diverting tale about the child  Gopi and his journey to teenage angst and understanding, about his  setting roots in Ramalingam  Street of T Nagar along with his delightfully eccentric circle of family and friends—the Telugu film lyricist grandfather-family head; the  comic illustrator- artist father that Gopi tries  to emulate, the pesky siblings and  adventurous friends, the wierdos that weave in and out of  the frisky protagonist’s life; the  movie- buff mother, a surprisingly and pleasantly liberated lady, no doormat this .

Their tales and background have one chuckling  and nodding as  one recalls similar characters from one’s own life, similar situations.  To give an example, the mother experiments with doll- making  and finally gives it up since ‘after hours of  toil, the end products resembled a Nazi experiment gone terribly wrong.’

Like any such ironic tale, there are of course some very interesting neighbours—like the octogenarian neighbor whose monthly shave fest provides Gopi and pals with their very own freakshow, the Dikshit family who  feast and fast in their own special way, the family doctor who turns out to be more than bargained for....  there are the film aspirants from Hyderabad, bedding down for the nonce at Ramalingam  Street, trying their luck in   the movie machine of Madras…and for the reader with insider knowledge of Madras ( and not just Chennai of  present times), it is wonderful to read nostalgic tidbits about the Veecumsee group of theatres, the very first multiplex from back then—Safire, Blue Diamond and  Emerald. This whole lot is now off the map—but the book brings those times alive. What fun.

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Yet fun is not  just fun; the tale starts off merrily enough…but by the time  Gopi’s hormones get active, the story   changes tone, there is young love, teenage angst, moving passages, closure.

Overall the book is a  breezy read. The language is lucid, effortless, effective—‘Our landlord, Raghavan, had built the rambling grey two-storey house with scrupulous savings, and judicious pilferage  from the Indian Railways.’ Ha ha.

 A  couple of small  quibbles—a few copy-editing errors caught my eye.  Also, perhaps, some   lines could improve  with better  phrasing.

But  my final words to the reader of this review—read this book if it is one of the few books you are going to read this year.

As the blurb declaims --Ice Boys in Bell bottoms is ‘gloriously funny and surprisingly poignant’.

Amen to that.

 More details about the book :  http://www.harpercollins.co.in/BookDetail.asp?Book_Code=2931

Finally watched the much maligned film Ra-one--on tv, phookat mein

Watching a much discussed-bashed film  three months after its release--it's akin to reaching a buffet  dinner late--and being told to avoid this sabzi, try that dessert...the fun is  that much less.

I am not a big foodie or anything, but I do like to approach a buffet spread with  an adventurous sense of anticipation.

Anyway, on with the film. Well, I missed the first fifteen minutes--and that's something I hate, miss any part of a film; like to watch it from censor certificate to last credit. Still, I knew I  hadn't missed much, thanks to my bolly-browsing , my habit of reading film  reviews (to an extent; do not like to have spoilers revealed); must add that I do not allow this sort of review-reading to affect my assessment of a film. Of course one's enjoyment is compromised somewhat, since the film is no more a fresh experience.

I guess I missed the early scenes that irritated many viewers--the ones featuring Priyanka  Chopra and  Sunjay  Dutt in guest roles, plus some lame politically incorrect jokes about Chinese folk with names like  Iski Lee, Sabki Lee --the usual PJs about foreigners, Indian style.

What I did catch first was this girly-looking long-haired boy in his classroom, in obviously Brit company. The fat  White  kid indulges in some sort of mischief  on his laptop and the outcome is a raunchy video of the Black class teacher, a buxom lady who is obviously horrified and angered even as the class laughs...umm, wasn't this advertised as a  kiddie flick?

Still, I found myself fairly engrossed in this film, the early scenes that depict SRK as some sort of a nerdy Tamil Iyer  scientist based in  the UK, discussing  the new computer game he was trying to develop in the company of an Indian (Shahana Goswami from Rock On) and a Chinese guy. Don't remember seeing any Brits in this scene, or maybe I missed them. SRK is explaining the virtual reality  game, trying to come up with a name for it--and  Goswami it is who points to the words RA-ONE  on the board, and helps christen the  game--developed by  Indians--so Ra-one and G-one (Raavan and Jeevan...geddit?)....ah well, something new, not bad.

 I had missed the infamous  'Shekhar eating curd 'n' noodles' scene --BTW, my  spouse actually loves mixing curd and Maggi noodles, since it tones down the masala hotness of the  whole goop; but he does eat the Tamil-Chinese-Punju mishmash with a fork, not his fingers. And  in our Iyer home spouse and self  love adding curd to anything that goes with this most gentle of foods--so curd it is, with chapatis, adai, idlis, dosas, rice, sevai,  upma--well, basically everything except halwa and dessert.So there--what's the big deal folks, noodles CAN be eaten with curds.

Back to the film. So Shekhar of the wierd hairstyle was at home--going irritatingly 'aiyyo aiyyo' with every third line of dialogue--and I thought--'what a  lazy screenplay'. First of all the idiot was declaiming in  a poor caricaturish manner--'Aiyo, romba nalla idea-'-and I wondered --'did the dialogue writer even bother to consult a true-blue Tamil?

Here is a bit of advice to Hindi film dialogue writers--if you use a Tamil character, DO NOT make him say Aiyyo when he is happy or pleased . Aiyyo is actually an 'ashubh' sort of word , a word  most Tamil kids are discouraged from using;  aiyyo denotes negativity--so it's  aiyyo, somebody fell or worse died .

And  it's Aaha, what an idea. Or just wow, what an idea, nalla idea...Tamil film heroines and heroes are always going wow whenever they are shown pleased.

I suppose I shouldn't expect any better from a commercial film set up, whether Hindi or Tamil.  A Tamil film hero is likely to say balle balle while playing fake  Punjabi..so I shouldn't dwell on this small matter. But SRK's aiyyo went on for a while and seriously irritated me.

Thankfully, the story was moving along too and there was some good stuff  there on screen. Like any science fiction story set up, here too the scientist realized that he had created a monster and that his creation was now the controller--I was actually moved by the sight of  Shekhar looking helpless and terrified as his creation Ra-one went on a rampage.

The story continues, different setting,  SRK's G-one avatar  now holding center fort, along with the evil Ra-one (Arjun Rampal, looking properly evil). I watched till the end, nether fascinated, nor bored. It was interesting to watch the twist in the tale when Kareena's character is possessed by the...well, for any one still remotely interested in watching the film, I won't reveal more.

This film had all the ingredients necessary to make a decent commercial flick--the premise about a scientist and his  horrifying creation, the emotional family  hooks  that keep an Indian audience happy, some good special  effects  and  action sequences, the Silver Streak reminiscent scene ( runaway train shattering its way out of the railway station), the hot heroine in fit body, a couple of hummable songs, some masala naachgaana, a fight to the finish climax---and yet the whole  dish just did not add up--like curd and noodles, or more likely, halwa and pasta together.

I'd term  Ra-one a missed opportunity, yet surely worth a watch-- or  two (if you are a die-hard all-forgiving SRK fan). My rating for the film is a pass mark of 5/10.

My shelves are filled with old diaries; and the diaries filled with old scrawls--some actually copied off the backs of matchboxes. I  term them...

                                                         MATCHBOX WISDOM

1. Success is the ability to go from failure to failure without losing your enthusiasm.
2.One of life's mysteries is how a two pound box of candy can make a person gain five pounds.
2.A fine is a tax for doing wrong. A tax is a fine for doing well.
4. Anyone who thinks that he is too small to make a difference has never been in bed with a mosquito.
5.Always keep a spare pair of shoes in your office/vehicle.
6. The one time you put your feet up is the one time the boss will walk into the  office.
7.A person with a tidy desk is doing no work.
8. Ugly plants grow faster and better than beautiful  plants.
9.People who say, " I wish I had time to read" are not readers.
10. A penny saved is a penny saved. Think bigger.
11.When you don't know what you are doing, do it neatly.
12.When you cross a one-way road, always  look both ways.

Night Bus to Sringeri

The  Volvo's headlights cast
A pearly ghostly glow
On the fecund flora that dot
The serene countryside
Of Karnataka's  Western  Ghats .

Pilgrims sleep ;
Some try to.
A few lucky ones
Even snore blissfully ;
The big bus ploughs the darkness .

Small hill towns with shuttered windows
That promise interesting tales ;
Pockets of lighted streets and doorways,
Some hooded heads shuffling by....
Then the  forests close in, again .

My spouse cannot sleep ;
Finds an empty front seat .
I doze, slide, recoup ;
Peep through the cold sweating windowpane--
Spy a lonely man and his dog .

Pit stops are made
At appropriate stations--
Hassan, Belur, Chikmagalur...
They all look alike , these bus depots--
Biscuit'n'tea  stalls, loos, shawlled figures .

Relieved passengers  clamber back,
Shuffle their way to their seats;
Take a sip from a bot, adjust, settle in,
Snooze....
But the hairpin bends have started.

Awake again through this scary  section;
Peep out, say prayers , see...
Cliffs on one side
Sheer drops on the other;
The big bus slices through.

Then dawn starts to break.
Just about.
The pilgrim town is wide awake;
Freshly bathed figures can be spied
As we reach the gates
Of the Sringeri Sarada Math.

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Blossoming Bangalore

The title to this piece may be considered most inappropriate in these 'expanding' times--when once quiet and sweet towns have expanded into megapolises that gobble up villages and turn them into suburbs that ring the original town in increasing circles--apparently Bangalore will soon have its third 'ring road'! The first encloses the charming original Bangalore, the second came around after the birth of the tech parks , the shiny office, the homes and hotels..... and now with more 'hallis' getting ripe for real estate makeover.... apparently a third is on the way.

But to return to the title--well, despite the increased urbanization , flowers still bloom on trees that have escaped the town planners' scythe; but something else blooms too --a warm and cozy bookshop called Blossom.

For me. no visit to Bangalore is ever complete without a session of book browsing and buying at this amazing store . And this time I ( and my daughter) did just that during my new year visit to the city--walked down serene Church street, off the bustling MG Road. Walked past some interesting pavement stalls (not too many to clog up the sidewalks, but just a couple or so, to lend character to the street and maybe a curio for your shelf). Walked past good ol' Indian Coffee House, entered a 'Beer Cafe' that also promised coffee and baked goods; refreshed and replenished oneself with crisp garlic bread and , umm, bad coffee--obviously the beer would've been better-- then entered Blossom Book shop next door. It was a short 40 minute peep-in, so I could not indulge in the pleasure of browsing my way right up to the top floor; but did manage to pick up two very readable bargains-- a copy Of Granta (issue # 84, circa winter 2003) and an anthology of column collections from Jeremy Clarkson, the Brit from BBC tv, the motormouth of the motoring world.

Ah, heaven.

I'm back in Chennai, but still reading the books, awaiting my next visit to Bangalore and Blossom.

To learn more about Blossom, just follow this link--

http://www.mybangalore.com/article/0511/stacked-piles-of-wonder-at-blossom-book-house.html