around me

day begins with a yawn, ends with probably a bigger one. life packs quite a punch amidst the most popular and common human encore.

usually, I tend to love bright mornings but escapades of our frivolous nature have plans of their own. Quite rightly so and my arrogance to demand freebies from our creative mother seems uncalled for.

sunrise, morning breakfast, work, lunch at work, long days, get back home to a much jovial and caressing life, inside stories, memoirs, the precarious wait for weekends and the dread of monumental Monday’s. Huh!

for me, there’s much more – inside and out. Such gigs take me out of my glutton head chore and place me in a pedestal of palpable passion.


Did you find yours? Let’s do it together ☺️.


Yes. Consumed. Period. Inflammable isn’t an attribute, it’s a way of getting burnt. 
Hopes. Turmoil. Not over but begun. Ah, just yet.

Travel fascinates me, engulfs life over its normalcy and catapults mortals to a perceived cubicle of succumbing dreams. Yes, am fulfilled. Yes, I dream. Yes, I dare. Yes, started.

Phases co exist, precluding but stoppable. Yells but cannot sustain. We win. Efforts might go beneath but never unnoticed. Not words of wisdom, but conviction of life. Life savers. Rather.

Money sells, relationships don’t. The basis of bestowed values rests upon wealthy bank balances. Not for prosperity but for deterent rodents to feast on economic holes.

That’s, for the people. Former, is self gloated.
Good omen is like waves, comes through stones and rocks to wet us. Quite a welcome air!

Not talking about the heat wave this year, while other linguistics proved much hotter than Sun’s wrath.

Ah! You seem to consider this underrated. Well, just started to blink.

Back2Back: Review Corner

Aamir Khan and Rajkumar Hirani? Well, ideal expectation is a cinematic swagger. The end product is almost perfect, but isn’t the Christmas cake with all cherries and pies though.
What made other Raju films strike a chord with audience (Munnabhai, Lage Raho, 3 Idiots) was them being very close to reality and yet deliver brutal syndromes with sublime affection. They were not cacophony but drew us to the edge of the seats with simplicity and morality of life. PK, amongst all cheers, derails on this benchmark. But does come out with extraordinary moments and a powerhouse performance to stay large.
An alien sans clothes, ethnicity, language and complicated human trilogies, creates questionable situations wherever he lands and flirts with trouble in a fascinating turmoil. Most despise him, few dare to look at him and couple of them adored him. And that’s how, Jaggu and Sanju fit this palpable ride with the most unusual inhabitant of their worlds. One is a nobody but tries to be human, the other has problem of her own and is fighting with self, hoping to see a redemption that would entice sensibilities within a small little world. PK is probably the perfect stimuli to their incomplete lives and brings them to a world of his that’s defined by simplicity and devoid of human subjugation. He makes few to shed tears, brings many to their knees and vows all with his dose of ‘battery recharge’.
Such scripts are usually driven by 2 factors: lead actors and the director. Surprisingly, the director here supersedes the editor by few notches and I term it as the kaput of this plot. Couple of characters were wasted (not usually a Rajkumar Hirani attribute) and few scenes are mirrored from his earlier classics. Music is hummable; Shaan’s Chaar Kadam keeps my foot and heart tapping. PK is shot well, not overwhelming but keeps it to the stature. Supporting acts play around well, Boman Irani and Saurabh Shukla do their seasoned acts efficiently. Anushka as the bubbly and emotional Jaggu is endearing in patches. But her look in PK is probably the reason she will be adored. SSR has a cameo, and sticks to his sleeves.
Aamir Khan towers above all. His body language, expressions of being in an unknown land, framing people about their reason of existence in a manner of an infant who has lots of questions for this world and sharing his moments with people who found joy in his cherubic anecdotes – I was completely floored. He has been evolving as an actor, and PK places him in a pedestal of some fabulous legends we have seen in the world of Cinema.
PK – Precariously King.

When it comes to great films, I expect to see conflict in interests and perception, insatiable urge to achieve glory amidst ruins and oscillating ways of human relationships.
When it comes to Vishal Bharadwaj films, I expect just one. Awesome-ness. And Haider, is a marvel in the zone of the wannabe.
No one toys with Shakespeare as much as VB has explored the genre, and a menacing plot with lust and deceit can never overcome the bludgeon of human intracacies. VB brings in all in this steaming saga of a la Hamlet in the heart of a land which is considered to be the mother of all graveyards – Kashmir.
Kashmir is a long standing battle that burns more everyday. More importantly, there are people who survive and make money when the flames are higher and harder. Haider is born in a stable of hatred and conviction, thus learning that they are the only kinds of people living in this world. The plot is his story, and the symposium is the apocalypse around Kashmir where humanity dies every hour.
I think to be drawn with comparisons with Hamlet itself would be a crime, as they are separated by centuries and withstood by generations. Yet, the context, logistics and monstrous intentions around the epic in both versions remain unhindered. The agonising lives of thousands, the betrayal of their own, the dwindling hopes of a nation splattered in the blood of innocents and a waging war that is fighting their own demons. Haider has his own tale in a web woven out of drastic proportions.
VB’s protagonist is guilt and best ally is hatred. The sibling then, has to be vengeance. All characters belittle each other’s conscience to battered glory, and blood galore.
An uncanny resemblance to an iconic Maqbool is quite inevitable. Though, Haider has it’s golden moments. The mother-son moments, his fathers narration of his desire to avenge the infidelity of his brother and the haunting background score – all distinguish fragments of Haider’s soul.
Kay Kay Menon is quite understated, and Irrfan Khan sizzles in his cameo. But the winner is the mother-son duo. Tabu sparkles in a performance where men are meant to be frontrunners. Truly, she remains one of the most underrated actress in tinsel town. Shahid Kapoor is brilliant as Haider. He whims, drools, broods and perspires in a pit of vicious urge and tyranny.
Haider isn’t the best of the trilogy, but still manages to delight with grit and gross reality.

Tale of four cities

Lawrence of Arabia

A pedigree of class and indulgence, this Academy de noir was a spectacular voyage. More than half a decade later, it still ranks high amidst world heritage stuff. Gloriously shot, it captures the glitz of sand and vivacity of the deserts with enormous thirst. The lengthy golden traits, the exquisite sights of crawling camels under divine sunsets, the marauding Arab camps and the ever pretentious Whites in their game of philandering supremacy. The wit versus hoard through bilateral landscapes unfold in a fashion of a classic entrepreneur wielding his own fortunes. A hungry and a dramatic adventure, LoA reminds me of the vintage era that basked in sumptuous glory and plethora of elegance.


Perhaps, Mani’s finest yet. The cinematic hordes within a gamut of political and devious velvets, it brings the sliver screen in a breathing grasp of the mammoth Gulliver. Though the tag line of ‘not a true story’ is almost a paradoxical hunch, the script is so evidently intense. Aided by brilliant performances and a powerhouse background score, this sweltering script often acknowledges applause and awe in the same planet. Though panned by critics for obvious reasons within the territorial hinges, this remains to be a gutsy product in the world of Tamil and Indian cinema.

The Lunchbox

Human relationships are probably the most intriguing of all, you can write and talk all day but the sensibilities continue to elude you.

This AK production mystifies the age old enigma with a touch of nostalgia and a heart of gold. The backdrop is the quintessential Mumbai dabbawalas who become the messengers of a strange interlock that wields in to a fountain of deceit and redemption. Extracting terrific performances from it’s lead actors (Irrfan Khan and Nawazuddin Siddiqui), it governs your senses through heart wrenching moments. It takes away less, but returns a galore of humane traces that guilds through kettle drops.


Post Ritu da’s departure, I felt that a vacuum was fielding Bengali cinema that has survived generations through a fierce conjunction of story telling through poetry and literature. I can see an evolution, Jatishwar took my vibes seriously.

Sreejit’s baby, it has loads to garland upon. Manoeuvring between traditional folklore and contemporary compositions, it manages to stitch the legacy with it’s tame shadows. Though the characters have earlier references and script itself is no stunner, the treatment is quite engaging. For a musical, the scores and rendition could have been a notch higher but couple of soundtracks continue to sing around me. Performances stand out. Prasenjit delivers another scorcher (doesn’t surpass his Baishey Shrabon jigs though!) and Jishu gives a terrain performance. Some valuable actors have been wasted and the leading lady was a frown. Yet, I will take this one with the yolk and the egg for the class-o-vein.

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!

romantics unleashed – an amateur classic!

a new arrival terms the beginning of an evolution,
budding flowers blossom meandering fragrance amidst vane,
fewer mortals discreet farther feathers,
yet, I love to fall and emerge unravelled.

tinsel town connotes me at a level of subjugation,
a celebrity of self invokes within..
gallops like highwayman when confronted ballistically,
quiver, shiver and smell the fervour of faint, frantically.

an isolation that was felt for minutes that compounded of ages,
ultimate gift of love came in with waves of profound glee,
met with ventilations of pestering values and desires..
squadron that ceased to exist and conquer with patents.

nation dances to tunes that is felt and is the beat that misleads..
new leader at the helm procures emotions and fallacies on a spectrum,
an artist stops weaving his brushes over a 21 yard strip..
baked at the future pokes as a legend withdraws from the realms of the empire.

premier consumer giants provoke and tantalise with oomph..
yet, embraced with goosebumps that yore and yell..
as governments play with inflow and outflow of booty,
big and small battle as the game crouches over the survival of the gamers.

Erodes, as always, and comes in till the following perched unknown.