When the ‘Garden of Eden’ called for..




Images that speak for such beautiful moments of my life..

I have had few enormous stints at the ‘Eden’, this one proved special as it marked my comeback to the ‘City of Joy’ and then to the ‘Eden’. Significantly, it was with my sweetheart and she was ecstatic :)!
Picturesque and panting with energy, it was a live-wire to be present and experience the sheer joy!

Never mind the result, ‘Eden’ has been an amphitheater for spectacle and Cricket looks ravishing in those lush green famed plateaus!

More to come from my city, till the next arrives!

In Transit (Delayed!) Reviews: ‘Attacks of 26/11’ and ‘Inkaar’

We all saw it happen, felt the anguish and disgraced the shameful deed of audacious crime with open arms. Yet, RGV’s bio-centric recapitulation of gory chapters spits venom and reminds us of inhuman embellishment.
It isn’t a review, because it isn’t. It was bad walk down the memory lane, with events unfolding in front of us as the ‘Joint Commissioner’ runs us through his hapless credentials that were a victim of cohesive damage.
Splattered blood, screeching yet relevant background shells, hapless Mumbaikars and Kasab (as depicted in the terror sequences) – RGV recounts with pain and uncomfortable questions, yet again.
But I loved every bit of Nana. He has been a terrific actor in such intensified author backed roles and doesn’t disappoint. His baffled expressions, ferocious yet restrained was the need for a film that took one of the darkest chapters in its belly. I am sure it’s inspired well from real protagonists but reel was evidently cinematized, understandably (credits did indicate that some liberties have been incurred). His duels with Kasab was of great intrigue, shocking at times. But RGV has been kind. Kasab is still human in his adaptation, and difficult to believe that bloated individuals with utter disrespect for human life would live with weapons of a normal, very normal human being. [Read: Emotions]
An attempt to be recorded for not playing again.

A Sudhir Mishra film is always special for me. An assignment filled with intrigue, awe and perspiration, ‘Inkaar’ deals with one of the most sensitive issues in our racks with pertinent audacity.
Stylishly penned and laced with necessary humour content, it takes off from the stands. A famed moderator (Deepti Naval), usual colleague suspects and loads of ‘tu tu main main’: elements that have never ever given us the right verdict on such deterrent issues. Fair enough, Sudhir gives us drama and emotions in toasts and keeps us glued to continue battering about an issue that has long undergone human evolution, few systemic and few are iconic indulgence. Debates, have and will occur as long as men and women work together in mutual-non mutual congruence. ‘Inkaar’ gets this uncomfortable liaisons out in the park.
Impulsive, arrogance, egos – they have been hallmarks of show business for ages now, and we have been splashed with those ethos, with some sweet melodies and titillating screenplay. Arjun Rampal and Chitrangada Singh’s chemistry sizzles, both come up with terrific performances. Rest of the cast supports with flair.
Not a typical classic, yet ‘Inkaar’ has moments of breeze and pedigree.

random and voltage..

last 3 weeks have given my potent force, an enamored and polarized bloke!

some silken laced moments, an emotional walk around some of the most beautiful lanes and by all means, being accompanied by the woman of my life is a journey of a lifetime that has just begun.

don’t believe in rebirths, but do believe that a birth has an intention to fulfill, and human desires are notorious in getting them fulfilled. I, being one of those in the illustrious bandwagon, ceases to admonish and galore with the naiveness of an amateur sailor on the pacific.

missing the paradoxical events that have been the breeding ground for a long time, omnipresent yet petals do flourish amidst adversity! rejoicing never had a quotient level to diminish porcelain stripes, and I continue to rejuvenate amongst those who are oblivion of a great lesson, taught and learnt with a gimmick of a pulverized lion. A hungry one too!

pride is a great protagonist, never lets you down! decisions can never be wrong when conviction is the greatest ally! and, patience is a great virtue when backed with instincts of an empowered mind..

Amen! ah.. doesn’t it invoke polished yet rampant values? well, that’s an amalgamation of me, courageously loves to be daunting!

second coming..

“life isn’t your bane, you are!”

This isn’t a typical comeback, but then with plausible child monotony, this could be a turnaround. Or, may be, it does act as a litmus test. Nevertheless, does with darned fortunes.

I am in joy with the city that possibly, and inevitably, made me. I am a believer in roots, and I have great inclination towards mighty legacies that have today’s larger blokes at bay. But I don’t think I care! Not for the old warhorses, but for the ones like me who live and eat passion.

10 years is a long time, almost! The core hasn’t changed, the people have probably become intrinsically lavish, the govenrments have rendered with ply-mouths and bandhs remain a cakewalk (tomorrow is one!!). But the charm is back, the vibes are alive and I come back to relive the days of evolution. Primitive but prerogative!

As I commute between 2 arms of Calcutta (‘Kolkata’ never really got in), I see altered landscapes with a flair of famished plunder. The ‘Calcutta’ I knew is still buzzing but what paves the way is the ‘Greater’ one. As a resident, I love to be admonished with a sense of newness. And with a wife, my days will be a feast. For her, and for my insanity towards this city of marque collage.

Welcome me 🙂

a voyage of a different kind..

The last 3 weeks have been crazy, probably crazier than I thought it would be. But didn’t surprise myself as the transition ought to be instrumental in shaping me in the next few months. Not nerves but a feeling described yet not exported in its vague bonanza.

Pre nuptial-knot days were thrilling and some fine moments spent with the family will be remembered for a long time to come. With Pups down here with Mushki, times were so wonderful that I failed to notice that it was flying at the same pace. Photographs speak a language of emotions and I look back at them with such ominous glee that cannot be plagued over.

Now, for the third in my life. 2 beautiful women blessed my life with unsurmountable love and irreplaceable qualities of a super human being. Truly and evidently, their influence shows up in every frame of my life. Today, I am every inch proud and evasive in saying that my better half would exceed me with palpable blush. A simple and sweet human being, she continues to impress in what might be an extended stretch of a lifetime. Thanking them would be a shame but can’t shy away from saying this: Mom and Pups – I love you! Sarada – Your love will take our lives forward and bind the family together like never before.

Ah! Emotions have never been my best playground, yet.

It’s been a travel sojourn, if I can term it that way in a nutshell. From the backwaters of Allepey to the stylish suburban of Kochi, from the ever gorgeous Athirapally falls to the heavenly shores of Goa, from the in-lawful Bangalore to a sublime Vijayawada – it has been nothing short of a roller coster ride. I am drained and living out of a suitcase hasn’t been a great feeling. But, I guess, every moment has been worth it. Satisfying.

I am back. Normal livelihood calls upon and I have some critical decisions to be taken in the next few weeks as a new journey begins. Waiting for it and the showdown to the penultimate has been perfect. Almost!

Rest of 2012 and 2013, am coming for you with full josh and excitement of my life. Amen!

Barfi! – Sweet..

Landscapes woven out of an artist’s dream, streets that flush meadows in daylight, people who appear and are human, love that has touched the arms of divinity. ‘Barfi!’ is straight out of a folklore that doesn’t exist. Rather, you and me don’t know if it ever did.

In the last 15+ years of Indian Cinema, filmmakers have evolved, writers got back to the drawing boards that was probably alive during the early 70s till mid 80s and audiences are demanding more than a mere 150 minute potboiler sans sense and sensibilities. Anurag Basu, for me, has joined that elite bandwagon. Or at least, he has embarked on a fascinating road.

Barfi, Shruti and Jhilmil are rare protagonists in a script that’s woven around their vulnerable lives. One is disabled minus speech and sound, an autistic young girl who still is alive enough to emote and the third, is fulfilled with the right organs but without the sting that makes life meaningful. Barfi and Shruti share beautiful chemistry but the sustainability matrix falters in the ask of a society that never understands the intrinsics of human yore. It does also reflect upon failed relationships wherein we start living our life on the staircases of compromise and ‘that’s my fate’ attitude. Desires play a vital role as well, and seldom do they go hand in hand with what the heart says. Shruti exits (briefly though) and Jhilmil squashes in with a cherubic dose of innocence. Barfi, despite his limitations, is notorious and charming. His camaraderie with Jhilmil is magnetic and keeps you engrossed. Shruti shrugs her inhibitions (along with her family) to come back but she loses Barfi to Jhilmil. A limitless story unwinds in the backdrop, but for me, the 3 stand out as the yolk remains enriched. Obviously so.

Terrific performances make ‘Barfi’ memorable. Post ‘Rajneeti’, and ‘Rockstar’, Ranbir Kapoor’s big ticket is ‘Barfi’. His histrionics gave us a glimpse of an actor in the making and he has carried it off in style. Priyanka Chopra gives us a stunning Jhilmil with lots to rave about and has showcased immense courage to take up this act at this stage of her career (7 Khoon Maaf still remains a personal favourite though). Ileana D’Cruz is my surprise pic of ‘Barfi’. Not out of this world, but certainly a notable performance as debutante. She still has that plastic touch but saw less of it here and Anurag has worked well with her. A performance well within herself, she does look ravishing as the Bong girl. A well written script with precise screenplay treated impeccably, Anurag Basu has delivered a thorough winner.

I wouldn’t claim ‘Burfi!’ to be unique though. ‘Black’, ‘Taare Zameen Par’ and ‘ Guzarish’ have been such marvels in their own zenith but I would rate this as ‘audaciously penned’.

Oscar or no Oscar, ‘Burfi!’ is a craftsman’s delight. It would have worked very well in Mars or Jupiter, it most definitely doesn’t belong to the inhabitants of this planet. I might just head to the theatres next week to taste the sweetness of life, again.

Arth – Mahesh Bhatt: Retro Marvel!

There are filmmaker’s who make films. And then, we have filmmakers who churn epics. They resonate and come back to us with a trace of fervour. ‘Arth’ is such a product of pandemonium class.

Mahesh Bhatt ranks amongst the country’s finest minds and this probably was his most honest trade. Human relationships have always intrigued me, and I continue to mend my ways to attempt not to meander desires. ‘Arth’ flashes human paranoid in every frame of life. Inder, Pooja, Kavita, Raj – they are all etched out of our pedestrian lives. Insane, talented, desirable, greedy, dreams, obsession. The characters are immersed in such juggernaut that they fail to miss you and you are glued with your gums stuck to the walls. The floundering means of Inder, Pooja’s desperation to possess a family that refrains to let hold and Kavita’s psychotic bliss take you to a fold of manned pandora that refuses to bleach naked carousels.

Few scenes stand out. ‘main keh raha hoon, keh raha hoon, keh raha hoon’ fused humane madness, Pooja’s proverbial outburst in the party where she spots Inder & Kavita together and Kavita’s oscillating moods define masquerading battles within. Raj’s acceptance of Pooja’s refusal establishes the fact that people with such beautiful feelings do live and breathe amongst us.

Pravin Bhatt is excellent with his camera, editing flays yet restrained and the script palanquins the stamp of vulnerable wannabes. ‘Tum itna jo muskura rahe ho’ is my forte and the late Jagjit Singh’s soulful rendition renames melancholy. Background score rests beneath as the writer creates his own playground of fatal tombs.

The performances: What can I say? It features some of the finest this country has ever seen. Khulbhushan Kharbanda plays Inder like a man possessed. If this generation has to know what KK could do as an actor, then ‘Arth’ is your destination. Shabana Azmi as Pooja is astounding. Raj Kiran as Raj sinks and does so with aplomb. Finally, my toast. Smita Patil delivers a stunner. At an age when women centric roles were orthodox and venturing out of the commercial territory was almost impossible, Smita lived Kavita in every frame. The swinging mantra of her loneliness, her insecurity to retain a man in her arms and the insatiable wants of a marauding woman – Smita had it all. Hats off!

An autobiographical monument, ‘Arth’ became a path breaking phantom. 31 years since, and Mahesh Bhatt’s mangled human yore oozes brilliance.

Valentine? Pseudo..

Roses galore, petals kiss your thirst and mountains spit collages of serene kiosk…
At a time of penchant vows, I courageously demean the dawn to caress and make love.
Very, astonishingly, brave, mild, grizzly moan and fetish desires engulf paradigm.

I, fake, not to diminish but to flourish with pretentious glory.
Ah, my pittance of a mimic glows through the veins of malicious pun.
And, respite doesn’t meet me until I devour the known to giggle the unknown.

Yet, women, mostly, are paradoxical occurrences of my mingle minds. No, they love me.
Why? Where? Hmmmm… How? No, let’s go back and fend actions that mattered.
Am I to love and perish with substance that usually forges anonymity?

Guess what, I still love thee to elude wrath and flaunt insatiable within core.
Ecstasy, mind you, is a state of being you and inviting magnetic proportions.
I, think to be devoid, but, known to be alive despite.

While the world basks itself in ballistic hormones of youthful bliss (well, evolution might not alter few that scream from within), I, the most laudable of niche, wish you all, the memoirs of a beautiful and a voluptuous lifeomaniac. Or, perhaps, for the one that’s in the making.