Rockstar: Dazzling Debonair!

It happens during an occasional hiatus when a film with heart and soul appears to melt you down. Very few could have a translucent and vibrant mix of love, eccentricity, attitude, sadness, loss, romance, obsession, creativity and perhaps, madness. ‘Rockstar’ embodies these in plenty and takes you through a journey of elapsed yet powerful minds.

It’s a musical and the fact remains has it has bygone the script of the film in every single frame of the 2 hour 25 minute Imtiaz Ali offering. I have to admit that ARRs compositions are very closely etched with the threads and caricature of the film. The way it begins, the manner in which Imtiaz takes you through the valley of Kashmir and caresses past the sedative lanes of Prague are poignant. The story oscillates between JJ and Jordan impressively, his rise to stardom and fall from grace owing to creative indiscipline is a stuff that’s emerging from the tales of our real yet disgraced reel entertainers. The storyline cannot be termed unique (it’s unfortunate that it has few similarities with a dud that happened to release couple of months before – MBKD) but thankfully, the ordeal isn’t replicated here at its worst. Rather, the proceedings of their love story has a touch of elegance masquerading infinite barriers. The steamy sequences are not left out but handled with connotations of a classic and oozes exuberance. Well, if it’s a musical and a love story, such depictions are an epitome of fluctuating human desires. Evidently, they are congenial and apt.

‘Rockstar’ reinforces the age old formula of the tinsel town in to a grand symphony. ‘Zindagi mein kuch banna hai to dard chahiye’ is the statement doing the rounds and JJ becomes Jordan, not to mention that you need to be unanimously talented and carry the passion inside your guitar. “A woman is man’s greatest inspiration, not because he wins her with all in the platter but loses her with everything at stake”. I live by this beautiful plot but ‘Rockstar’ pulls you in with this as the pinnacle and carries you through with aplomb.

For me, the cast was critical and again, not so very critical. Jordan aka Ranbir Kapoor walks away with all the accolades and deserves a pat on his back (though I still feel his best is yet to come). Imtiaz made this for him and he has obliged with a crackling performance. Nargis Fakhri makes a stunning entry in to the BO and owes it all to Imtiaz for a royal beginning. Performance-wise, It was a mixed bag but for a debutante, I see it as a grand beginning. She is very hot, though and you will battle to take your eyes off her. Yahoo man’s final celluloid appearance was an icing on the cake. The rest, as they say, were just about there to render aid to the central characters.

The winner, not surprisingly enough and with all due respect to Ashtavinayak and Imtiaz Ali, is A.R.Rahman. I remain soaked in ‘Naadan Parindey’, ‘Tum Ho’, ‘Kun Faya Kun’, ‘Hawaa Hawaa’ and ‘Katiya Karoon’. I go berserk every time ‘Sadda Haq’ and ‘Aur Ho’ is played, no wonder the former is being touted as the ‘Anthem of the Youth’. Arguably, this is one of Rahman’s finest magical products and undeniably, the soundtrack of the decade. Mohit Chauhan has arrived and is the flavour of the month.

I had expectations from ‘Rockstar’ and I came out of the cinemas with curtailed vigour. Imtiaz has struck gold, yet again and Bollywood has reasons to cheer from the stables back home.


Those were the days..

While sipping the customary lemon tea and exchanging pleasantries for the day with couple of my colleagues during our early morning banter, we ran in to a conversation that seldom fades away.

Our younger days are our inspiration and the greatest teacher (few would disagree with me on that). We cursed our teachers, accused our parents of being dictators and loathed on the paramedics of a delightful world that laid its shadow on us to beget. Well, or to say, besieged the frivolous mind.

In retrospective, I feel that our misdeeds have made us the mettle that we are made of today.

As a kid, we needed the cosy shields of our parents and flourished precariously. As teenagers, we saw them as paid liabilities, :). The most affluent aspect of a students life is to vanquish our teachers, and we take a lot of pride in such accomplishments. Our freedom is on a sabbatical journey and our aspirations look outrageously impressive.

We are at the disposal of every opportunity that encourages naive inhabitants and we strictly believe in the classic theory: all that glitters is certainly gold. Savouries, clothing, G&G, girls.. Merchandise was alluring and the opposite gender is swooning over your persona of callous grammar. Or, vice versa, for starters.

Dad’s money was RBI’s self funded economic mystery; I would be happy as long as it kept swirling out of his wallet. To our dismay, having five bucks in yours pockets in that glorious era was an aberration and spending them was equally distasteful. But honestly, dad’s money had its own flavour (still has!) and the cash coming out of his adorned enclosure was a boon. I might have more bucks in my pocket today than he does, but, somewhere down the line, I miss the chemistry.

Ek taakar cha, ded taakar singhara, 2 taakar garam kachoodi aar aadai taakar lengcha: the denominations look primitive but for me, these are priceless and offer life.

How could I forget ‘Symphony’ in the bustling corridor of Dharamtalla! Dad’s hard earned money lies in his little wooden box of overflowing proportions and I would gorge upon the store to wait for the new releases. Today, I am disposing my Dad’s souvenirs!

Folks, this juggernaut will never stop but got to go for good. But my coherent legacy will get me back and I assure to take you down the memory lane, again.

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