Stunner of a Sunday

If it was raining glorious passing shots and some brilliant baseline tennis in one corner, the other corner at home celebrated Cricket’s brand new World Champion. And, a cracker of a contest it was!

The Wimbledon final was expectedly a long one as I could not expect anything less from the 2 top players battling it out for the ultimate prize. With 38 Grand Slams between both of them, this could only be as epic as it gets. And, I don’t think I was disappointed. Another iconic Wimbledon final with a 5 set thriller, it all boiled down to energy and perseverance. Federer was sheer class, Djokovic was rock solid. It’s a shame we had to choose one winner, but Djokovic finally prevailed over the 8 time champion. Aptly, only he could have stopped the legend from claiming his ninth, and his fifth could not have come in a better time and place.Apparently, I was focusing on the Wimbledon final today. My attention was diverted when England were 86/4 and I could sense that another thriller was in the offing. And, no surprises met me this time. A World Cup final going in to a Super over has not happened ever before, and this one took the nerves to the wire. I almost felt it was going to be New Zealand, but England’s persistence won hearts and the cup. The over throw that yielded 4 runs in the final over was a painful turning point for the Kiwis and some dazzling scenes in Lords and Trafalgar Square meant that England just seized their first ever World Cup Glory.Over to 2023.

When emotions win.

How much ever we try to elude the inevitable question, an India – Pakistan Cricket Match isn’t a Cricket match any more, it never was. More significantly, it’s even more illogically placed if it is a Cricket World Cup. And, that’s exactly what unfolded today. Our emotions were more pertinent than the significance of a World Cup match, though you will see diplomacy and kind words doing the rounds when men are talking in front of the cameras. But we know, what’s going on inside.

Both nations have seen turbulence together, our hatred for each other is born out of sheer legacy of discard, gore and admonished fervour. Both nations also have a strong history in Sporting events like Hockey and Cricket. But with time and tide, Cricket has gone to another level, not particularly in the ascending curve. Most of our dispensed feelings is attributed to devious political minds and a self destructive plague of concurrent events. But, the those feeling are mutual. For sure, it looms large over the prospects of such glorious events like Cricket World Cup.

We don’t want to play them but we can’t escape playing them in big ICC events due to the massive logistics involved. Big Money, Marketing, Sponsorships and Betting flies high in such encounters, it makes things more obvious that India holds centre stage today in World Cricket and has to abide but cannot be dismissive of their opinion which oscillates between Patriotism and Realism.

Today’s victory was clinical, no doubt, but it was another prominent reminder to Pakistan that India have kept their winning streak in World Cup intact. And, the battle will always continue offline, off the ground and off the limits.

London, again.

This is my nth time in London. We visit London very often, reasons are plenty. Friends, and I think we really love London. At times, I find London overrated, sometimes so vibrant and exuding energy all the time, with all the people around. I guess, I do love London. Sorry, said that twice now. But, it’s just that I am so copiously surprised with myself that despite so many encounters with London, the city keeps calling us. Perhaps, for a reason but I don’t know yet.

Lunch with friends, a visit to Kensington Gardens with my family and some delightful stories across North Greenwich.

Done and dusted, this time around.

No Blood, Just Death

Not often do I see crime and gangster dramas without a blood splattering show. ‘Siberia’ was one such example. Less (in fact, none at all) blood, fewer dialogues, some steam to get you hot and an insanely predictable end. Love lost, cause lost, not sure why it all started in the first place.

Gosh, I have seen Keanu Reeves in a better shape and in a much better house as an actor. Sadly, he is approaching nadir in this so-called thriller.

Deceptive Vengeance

It’s not inspired, it’s purely taken from ‘The Invisible Guest’. Yet, watch Badla for one man’s tormenting eyes which describes a hundred tales – Mr Badal Gupta.

I call it, ‘Vengeance with Venom’

Irish Waters

Quite a trip it was!

Such a picturesque land of navigating waters, waves slashing against rocks invincible and the cordoned beauty of the suburban lands! Well, we never wanted to come back but civilisation has its own perils and we are bound by its torrid tentacles.

A quick round up of what unfolded in 3 days and how astounding our lives looked till we took the road back to insanity.

Day 1 – The Beginning of Boundaries

It all started in Belfast, the city so gorgeously appearing to enjoy the bliss of its eloquence.

Day 2 – Game of Thrones Tour with Giant’s Causeway

What can I say about this ethereal day! Words are not enough but the scenes are just floating around my eyes. Rest, I will let divinity do the talking.

Day 3 – Birth of Tragedy

Belfast is home to the most iconic masterpiece that never lived – ‘Titanic’. It was built and designed in Belfast, but the ‘unsinkable’ could only replicate its stature in the history books. The story of its making and its inevitable demise is equally riveting and colossal. And after lunch, we drive through Belfast by-lanes, watch the sunset by the harbour, few more shots with my wife and son before deciding to call it a day.

Stay in Marriott

Ravishing, as usual. Food was, uh, tad disappointing but Uber Eats compensated for the otherwise comfortable and contagious stay.

Human Sans Logic

If man has to choose between money and man, he will go straight for money. In a world of such perennial aura and superlative torrents, ‘Triple Frontier’ offers solace. But I am quite deterred by the aftermath depicted.

How on earth do you manage to infiltrate in to the den of a most wanted Narco terrorist with a bunch of extremely self motivated ex army men equipped with state-of-the-art logistics and no one blinks an eye? Worse, the narco terrorist whose forest wrenched mansion was just ambushed, doesn’t care to retaliate and they are left alone to happily walk away with all the booty?!

The plot here hangs in an unknown frontier, this time.

Bazaar – Bizarre Market

Certainly not ‘Wolf of Wall Street’, but tries to come close. Share market, ‘Bullish’ vibes, the inevitable passion to brutally excel in what you play for and deny the eventual – these are traits for the ones who dare to enter this playground with balls aplenty.

‘Bazaar’ falters in the last 30 minutes or so, but still remains watchable till the penultimate frame. It brings back Saif Ali Khan to do what he does best – remain subtle, hold on to his natural histrionics and act. Which he does impressively, and it solely remains to be his film. I seriously think he should stop doing those baseless Rom-Coms, which looks so jaded and irrelevant to our times. He has much more left in him as long as we have scripts with meat.

Watch it for Saif, his plot and others.

Blackmail – Vengeance is Inside

When does a person blackmail another person?

When he realises that he is being screwed upright behind his back and still expected to believe that things are hunky dory between the mundane episodes of life.

Well, that’s exactly the plot here. What you are bracing for is an entertaining series of encounters and the fetish yet evil face of human adversity. One follows another, a vicious circle develops and ends up destroying each of their lives. Well, you can argue if they ever had one.

A Seer’s Rage – Episode 2

Madhu grew up in a land of priests and religious fanaticism. Not surprisingly, his thought process was quite inclined towards his Father’s during his younger days. But as days went by and he grew older, time and education taught him a wider aspect of his faltering childhood.

Close to his mother but in awe of his father. Madhu’s situation was quite disturbing and precarious. But he was a kind, noble and compassionate person. Perhaps, his roots have him given him the foundation he needed.

Madhu does see himself as the son of the Patriarch but doesn’t essentially see him in his Father’s shoes. In fact, Literature fascinates Madhu ever since his school days and now as he confronts his end-of-school days, he is quite convinced not to pursue his Father’s legacy against his unsurpassable wish to get his degree in Literature.

Madhu’s inclination towards Literature comes from his Mother. A school teacher in Banaras Christian Community School before she got married, Madhu’s mother was also adept in writing short stories for few small publications in the town. Yes, she quit long back but Madhu has inherited his mother’s talent.

He plans to inform his father about his plans though he is equally crumbled under fear to talk about his proposition with his Father. On the other hand, his mother is on his side and encourages him to do what he wants.

சர்வம் தாளமயம் – Refreshingly Rythmic

I have not watched a musical for a long time now. They don’t make classic musicals any more.

But ‘சர்வம் தாளமயம்’ bought back poignant moments in a musical journey which stands out as simple, light hearted and make-you-feel-good drama with an outstanding soundtrack, which in many ways describes A R Rahman – The Master Composer.

Carnatic Music with a blend of vocal magic and art of percussion instruments. I love the semblance of anything which is connected to our roots, and this is just so apt.

Thank you Rajiv Menon, for giving us a glimpse of the ‘Mozart of Madras’, just like old days.

A Seer’s Rage – Episode 1

A land of spiritual resurgence. We need messiahs, someone who can turn this world upside down, in the right way. Not a torch bearer, but we need tools for sustenance.

Madhuprayan George Roy was born in Banaras, India to a Hindu Father and Catholic Mother. His father belonged to an ancestral Priest family and one of the oldest patriarch in the city of Banaras. Not surprisingly, an orthodox family with strong spiritual roots and a legacy that takes you back to 18th century, Madhu (as he was fondly called by his parents and friends), had a conventional and often, difficult childhood.

Being bought up in a situation of ‘Priesthood’ isn’t easy. His father was a staunch, god fearing priest in one of the oldest temples in Banaras. Quote obviously and inevitable, hugely respected across the religious circles, in and around Banaras. This made things even more difficult for Madhu. He was scared to talk to his father.

Madhu’s father was a good man but his approach towards his son was whimsical. He was a responsible father but not a doting one. His position in the town made him almost invincible to others and untenable to his son. This was not going down very well with Madhu.

His mother, though equally conventional and a devoted Catholic, was a compassionate and caring mother to Madhu. Madhu was very close to her and the fact that his parents got married in a twist of fate also meant that he was more emotionally inclined to his mother than his father. His mother understood Madhu’s dilemma but was equally intimidated by her husband’s position in the realms of Banaras. She was not scared of her influential husband but had her own reasons to adopt submission.

Colours of 2018

As I bid goodbye to this year (few hours to go), I would like to remember the year with a sense of mixed emotions.

I enjoyed embracing the usual suspects of life – Instability, greasy starts, disappointments, progressive altar, some wonderful moments with family, watching my son grow another year older, seeing ourselves evolving as parents (my wife is a better parent by all means), and the everlasting hopes of the next year bettering its predecessor.

I am done with words, let’s see my 2018 through these pictures which obviously are far more expressive, more fascinating and much more refined than my quintessential words.

Happy New Year fellas! Cheers.

The Story of Love

Love isn’t your essentials today, it’s a feeling of abounds and benefits, especially with our generation. We don’t believe in classics, our roots are more inclined towards lust and insatiable components (sex is one of them).

Just hold on before you judge me. I am not an anti-love person. In fact, I am a great believer in love per se. But, love isn’t the most sweetest, isn’t the most glorious and isn’t the most vivacious emotion in your life, as it is famously depicted and air-played in our lives. I am not counting the success stories yet, but failures have had a greater impact in my life.

Great, legendary stories of live are the ones that failed miserably and were considered ‘forbidden’ in the legacy of a society. Reasons could be plenty, but what it does prove is that love equally vulnerable to the whims and fancies of the kind of world we live and breathe in. That’s why, failures matter. Such admonishment throws a jinx around which propels people to believe that they might succeed if they do things differently. But, a game to dismantle cannot establish the torrid affairs of human inconsistencies. Human beings are naive, weak and just cannot cope with this battle between love and it’s adjacent factors of ‘status quo’.

As we are generally made to believe and as infamously displayed over by the media and our own unscrupulous society, Love isn’t the indispensable ‘Jesus’ of our times. In fact, quite the opposite. If there is a punching bag for the critics, then it has to be’Love’. Though ‘Love’ claims to be unanimously unbiased, devoid of prejudices, caste, creed and religion, languages and cultures, it remains to been seen if ‘Love’ could come out of its impoverished reputation.

Love has allies – Sex, lust, brood, jealousy, money, power… The list might seem endless as long as you are willing to accept the fact that love is beyond the borders of invincibility, quite tenable, brittle and devastatingly broken between man and his heart. Heart still beats, but love continues to fade away amidst evil tentacles that surrounds our dispensable lives.

Fall in love, but don’t fall for the perils associated with this divine and absolutely torrid encounters. You can give up your heart but life is another game for a different latitude to play around. Not for this one, if I am to be asked.

8

8 is a magical number. No, it’s not my favourite number by any chance of a jitter but it sure is furiously sane for Quentin Tarantino and his rustic yet brilliant and audacious script writing. 8 is just not a number from his classroom, it ushers his school of filmmaking in a way nobody else can.

As people, as individuals, we have stopped talking to each other. We have stopped having conversations in life, we don’t introspect our inner devils and we remain submerged in a world of sin without admitting that we are grossly guilty. Tarantino’s films are about conversations of life. His characters are evil and disdainful, yet so human, besieged of war, hatred, passion and what they call, ‘a diabolical bitch’. Son of a Gun, it is so ‘Tarantino’ when I say it this way.

Be it the smell of vengeance, the unceremonious hatred for the Nazis, the evil ideologies of slavery, the whims and ways of a mercurial gangster in a gang of equally super crazy, mad inhabitants or the way each of his characters infuse excruciating expressions that define the myriad ethos that our lives remain stitched in. – Tarantino is undoubtedly the Master of ‘Neo Noir’ and his ever dispensable characters.

Tarantino and few of his actors bond like ‘holy mother fuckers’ who last for a lifetime. Samuel Jackson is born to act with Tarantino and then die one day, Michael Madsen is an icon in his style of filmmaking, Christoph Waltz gave us his most inspiring and menacing performances with Tarantino and Leonardo DiCaprio was a fine revelation in Tarantino’s supremely crafted piece of work since ‘Pulp Fiction’. Not to forgot, Uma Thurman in her marauding avatar of a revenge machine in the ‘Kill Bill’ saga.

Invariably, the million dollar question is not ‘What’s next’. It’s the ‘How’ that keeps me hooked and stoned to Quentin Tarantino.