The (O)Scars of India

A chance encounter with one of the Hindi/Marathi film industry's multiple Annual Award Ceremonies has been the trigger for me to write what you will read ahead. The 'Nokia presents 16th Annual Star Screen Awards 2010' is the ceremony in question. Supposed to be a gala glittery event with 'star studded performances', the ceremony was telecast with much editing on television.

I'm not sure about the stars, but it WAS studded with lethargic 'performances', jokes of the calibre of Sajid Khan's sense of humour (which is a feat, by the way, given that he himself was not present), and a host of immature and unfunny gags. An overdose of Vidhu Vinod Chopra's antics, specially after the press-conference fiasco, did nothing to help. The only saving grace, perhaps, was Shah Rukh Khan's quick-wittedness, which he too made it a point to let slip only accidentally. And this is the state of not one, but all award ceremonies in India. Presenters think making funny faces covers up for not being able to recall their lines or read the teleprompters, and having buffaloes on stage qualifies as a stand-by for lack of creative ideas. Cherry on the cake is when, before telecast, special effects like recorded laughter are added in an effort to spruce the thing up.

On comparison with the Oscar ceremony, which is infinitely more sophisticated and mature, and is fortunately telecast live, leaving no time for adding recorded laughter, I find the Indian ceremonies a pathetic attempt. And I'm not ready to believe that this is caused by lack of creativity. The exorbitant amount of money spent in designing costumes and sets should have been spent on hiring creative minds to script the show. The organisers need to be told that a simple stage can also look elegant, perhaps more than jazzy ones.

Another point to note is the absence of any singing/music performances, despite the fact that music sales for some movies account for more than their earnings from theatres! In India, traditionally, music has been the soul as well as the USP of a film, but unfortunately, singers/musicians do not figure in any award show performances. I, for one, would prefer to listen to a jugalbandi of Sivamani and Ustad Zakir Hussain rather than Chatur's crass jokes (irrespective of his performance in 3 Idiots).

Award ceremonies in their current state are more of an insult to an industry that has taken the world by storm. Nevertheless, I shall hope for the day when the sense and maturity of the Oscar ceremony came to India and not just the trophy.

The Tweet Life

11:05 am: Hey guys… got up at 11am… it’s kinda cloudy...... the day’s gonna be awwweeessooommmmeee…

11:45 am: It’s raining… yippee…. no match today!!......... I can sleep!! Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

11:59 am: guess I kinda slept too much last night…….. zzzzz buzzing in my ear :( …

12:04 pm: what to do, what to do… to do or not to do… what to do, what to do…

12:30 pm: wow!! I waited that long before my next tweet…… (halo over head)

12:45 pm: lunch will be ready in… uh.. just about.. uhh.. shit… an hour!! NOOOOO

1:00 pm: what is the capital of hungary?........................ HUNGARY… lollzzzzz :P

1:01 pm: which reminds me….. I’m hunGRRRyyyyy…………

1:10 pm: woken up sid has nothing to do…… anyone game for a home-tweet-home ??

1:15 pm: 4 d uninitiated….. home-tweet-home is a game, where I tweet from my home, u tweet from urs n we fight it out…… YEAH… bring-it-on….

1:30 pm: waiting…. waiting…. (whistle whistle)

1:40 pm: no takers……… :O……… :( :(

1:55 pm: guess I’ll just invite Mr Tharoor, and probly Ms Spears…… (lunch not ready :(…)

2:10 pm: Mr Tharoor, such hifi vocab is not allowed…….. thought you’d learnt a lesson from the recent fiasco!

2:30 pm: Britney.. I was wondering if u’re the wife of a sardar named Brit…… (hu ha ha ha)

2:50 pm: calling it quits……… lemme have lunch……

2:59 pm: back 4m lunch…… hot chick 4m school on gtalk…………. :P

3:10 pm: hot chick 4m school….. sigh

3:30 pm: hot chick 4m…… siiiggghhh

4:00 pm: hot chick…... siiiiiiiiiiiggggggggghhhhhhh…….

4:10 pm: is it chick or chic…… lemme check….

4:30 pm: web seems divided over it………. let’s just go with chick

4:35 pm: btw… obama got nobel peace prize! don’t think poor Nobel will be able to rest in PEACE any more!!! ;)

5:00 pm: facebooked for a while…… log kitne velle hain yaar... sara din orkut / facebook….

5:55 pm: doorbell’s ringing… so is phone… donno which to answer first… there r friends on both ends (rhymes.. wow!)..

6:30 pm: friends just left.

6:35 pm: friends just returned… forgot cellphone…

7:00 pm: winner winner chicken for dinner………. shld I take this week’s bath?

7:10 pm: tandurusti ki raksha karta hai lifebuoy…..

7:11 pm: lifebuoy hai jahaan…

7:12 pm: tandurusti hai wahaan….

7:15 pm: LIFEBUOY……… hehe.. sorry.. bathroom’s occupied for the moment….

8:15 pm: Long shower…….. feels great….. oh no.. I’m dripping on the lappy… wait, I’ll just dry myself and come……..

8:30 pm: dinner time……. passing thought…. what if lunch were called dunch and dinner linner?

9:00 pm: yaawwwnnnnn… whoops… fell on the bed with a thud……

9:30 pm: good night……. thought for the day.. aife aife, kaife kaife, log faara din internet pe nikal dete hain……. nikamme hain faale fab ke fab

PS. I wonder when Rakhi Sawant's beginning to tweet... that, should be fun!

चलता जा रहा हूँ...

एक रास्ता है ऐसा, धुंधला सा दिख रहा है,
पर इसी पर निरंतर मैं चलता जा रहा हूँ
हर कोने पर किसी का ईमान बिक रहा है
मैं बेबसी का लेप खु़दपर मलता जा रहा हूँ।
मुझे बना गई है माया बधिर और मूक
बेड़ियों में बंधा हूँ, और फिसलता जा रहा हूँ
खा रही है मुझे ना जाने कैसी भूख
और बहते, बरसते कीचड़ में, मैं गलता जा रहा हूँ।
अनेक हैं और मुझसे, भीड़ में अज्ञानी,
जाने कितनों को तो मैं ही कुचलता जा रहा हूँ
पर दर्द अब चुभता नहीं, ख़ून हो गया है पानी
कड़वाहट और अँधेरे को सहज निगलता जा रहा हूँ।
सच्चाई यही है कि सच्चाई अब नहीं रही
और उसी की चिता के साथ मैं जलता जा रहा हूँ
इस रास्ते पर सभी समान हैं, ग़लत और सही
मैं भी इसी साँचे में अब ढलता जा रहा हूँ।
पहुँचना कहाँ है यह सोचने कि फुर्सत कहाँ
जब खु़द चुनावी मुद्दों सा मैं टलता जा रहा हूँ
रेत के महलों सा जीवन सामने है ढह रहा
मैं फिर उनका स्थान बदलता जा रहा हूँ।
सभी मुझसे हैं, मैं सब जैसा हूँ
विश्व नामक कढ़ाई में उबलता जा रहा हूँ
हाँ, मैं वही पापी पैसा हूँ
मानवता कि परिभाषा बदलता जा रहा हूँ।
मैं चलता जा रहा हूँ...
मैं चलता जा रहा हूँ...

Through the Window

A mile beyond the wood-pained glass
Amidst tall glistening intimidating grass
There stands a boy with half-open arms
Meandering in his own hesitant charms
His face bares all, his eyes hide some,
His hands reach out, his feet are numb
He's ready to take off, but anchored well
A cheetah's blood in a turtle's shell
And the pastures swaying in the breeze
Make him feel like fallen trees
Yet there's a drive, but questions too many
The answers are expensive, and he hasn't a penny
Perhaps, there's hope, his head rises high
He refuses to give up, but maybe he's shy
He wants to write, but he wants to read
He wants to force, but he has to plead
There are tears across a pitiful face
Yet he exudes a fighter's grace
Cuts and bruises across a torn chest
and marks of subdued, but raring zest
Forgiveness on his forehead, a master's trait
But fear and suspicion for every mate
Pain in every anxious wait
For turns that turn up in his fateful fate
I see a mile of freshness stale
Sad happiness, and brightness pale
I see him distinctly, and I have a fair view
But, maybe it's a mirror I'm looking into.
Maybe, it's a mirror I'm looking into.

Why doesn’t this happen to you?

“The breeze flies past me,
It touches me like a ghost, makes me shiver.
But why doesn’t this happen to you?
It excites every tree
And the black water in the silent river
But why doesn’t this happen to you?

In the bluish-black night sky
That you yourself have lit
Clouds try to hide your light
Apparently making you feel shy
They, themselves, closely knit,
To darken the beautiful night.

I sway along and so my moods do,
But why doesn’t this happen to you?

Why are you just there where you were when I was swung by the breeze?
Why doesn’t your light move with the vapourous cotton crossing your path with ease?
Don’t you feel lonely in the barren plain sky with only a few fixed stars?
Don’t you want to go around and have fun and play on the planet of Mars?”

“No! I don’t feel lonely.
The breeze doesn’t brush me aside
It pats me while on the glide
As if I’m a baby in a pram.

The clouds do not hide me,
They come over for a party.
I do not shiver in the wind’s cold
For, to stay in my place I’m told.

I do not feel lonely at all.

I have myself to have fun
And of course, in the morning, the sun.
Like sitting down there, you enjoy natural sights,
I enjoy people like you all around the globe, the glamour, the lights.
And this is what makes life interesting here.
I wonder too,
Why doesn’t this happen to you?”

Kalam's Speech in Hyderabad

Why is the media here so negative? Why are we in India so embarrassed to recognize our own strengths, our achievements? We are such a great nation. We have so many amazing success stories but we refuse to acknowledge them. Why?
We are the first in milk production.
We are number one in Remote sensing satellites.
We are the second largest producer of wheat.
We are the second largest producer of rice.

Look at Dr Sudarshan, he has transferred the tribal village into a self-sustaining, self-driving unit. There are millions of such achievements but our media is only obsessed in the bad news and failures and disasters. I was in Tel Aviv once and I was reading the Israeli newspaper. It was the day after a lot of attacks and bombardments and deaths had taken place. The Hamas had struck. But the front page of the newspaper had the picture of a Jewish gentleman who in five years had transformed his desert into an orchid and a granary. It was this inspiring picture that everyone woke up to. The gory details of killings, bombardments, deaths, were inside in the newspaper, buried among other news. In India we only read about death, sickness, terrorism, crime. Why are we so NEGATIVE? Another question: Why are we, as a nation so obsessed with foreign things? We want foreign TVs, we want foreign shirts. We want foreign technology. Why this obsession with everything imported. Do we not realize that self-respect comes with self-reliance?

I was in Hyderabad giving this lecture, when a 14 year old girl asked me for my autograph. I asked her what her goal in life is. She replied: I want to live in a developed India. For her, you and I will have to build this developed India. You must proclaim. India is not an under-developed nation; it is a highly developed nation.

Do you have 10 minutes? Allow me to come back with a vengeance.
Got 10 minutes for your country? If yes, then read; otherwise, choice is yours.
YOU say that our government is inefficient.
YOU say that our laws are too old.
YOU say that the municipality does not pick up the garbage.
YOU say that the phones don't work, the railways are a joke, the airline is the worst in the world, mails never reach their destination.
YOU say that our country has been fed to the dogs and is the absolute pits.
YOU say, say and say.

What do YOU do about it? Take a person on his way to Singapore . Give him a name - YOURS. Give him a face - YOURS. YOU walk out of the airport and you are at your International best. In Singapore you don't throw cigarette butts on the roads or eat in the stores. YOU are as proud of their Underground links as they are. You pay $5 (approx. Rs. 60) to drive through Orchard Road (equivalent of Mahim Causeway or Pedder Road) between 5 PM and 8 PM. YOU come back to the parking lot to punch your parking ticket if you have over stayed in a restaurant or a shopping mall irrespective of your status identity... In Singapore you don't say anything, DO YOU? YOU wouldn't dare to eat in public during Ramadan, in Dubai. YOU would not dare to go out without your head covered in Jeddah. YOU would not dare to buy an employee of the telephone exchange in London at 10 pounds ( Rs.650) a month to, 'see to it that my STD and ISD calls are billed to someone else.'YOU would not dare to speed beyond 55 mph (88 km/h) in Washington and then tell the traffic cop, 'Jaanta hai main kaun hoon (Do you know who I am?). I am so and so's son. Take your two bucks and get lost.' YOU wouldn't chuck an empty coconut shell anywhere other than the garbage pail on the beaches in Australia and New Zealand .Why don't YOU spit Paan on the streets of Tokyo ? Why don't YOU use examination jockeys or buy fake certificates in Boston??? We are still talking of the same YOU. YOU who can respect and conform to a foreign system in other countries but cannot in your own. You who will throw papers and cigarettes on the road the moment you touch Indian ground. If you can be an involved and appreciative citizen in an alien country, why cannot you be the same here in India?

Once in an interview, the famous Ex-municipal commissioner of Bombay, Mr.Tinaikar, had a point to make. 'Rich people's dogs are walked on the streets to leave their affluent droppings all over the place,' he said. 'And then the same people turn around to criticize and blame the authorities for inefficiency and dirty pavements. What do they expect the officers to do? Go down with a broom every time their dog feels the pressure in his bowels? In America every dog owner has to clean up after his pet has done the job. Same in Japan . Will the Indian citizen do that here?' He's right. We go to the polls to choose a government and after that forfeit all responsibility. We sit back wanting to be pampered and expect the government to do everything for us whilst our contribution is totally negative. We expect the government to clean up but we are not going to stop chucking garbage all over the place nor are we going to stop to pick a up a stray piece of paper and throw it in the bin. We expect the railways to provide clean bathrooms but we are not going to learn the proper use of bathrooms. We want Indian Airlines and Air India to provide the best of food and toiletries but we are not going to stop pilfering at the least opportunity. This applies even to the staff who is known not to pass on the service to the public.

When it comes to burning social issues like those related to women, dowry, girl child! and others, we make loud drawing room protestations and continue to do the reverse at home. Our excuse? 'It's the whole system which has to change, how will it matter if I aloneforego my sons' rights to a dowry. So who's going to change the system? What does a system consist of ? Very conveniently for us it consists of our neighbours, other households, other cities, other communities and the government. But definitely not me and YOU. When it comes to us actually making a positive contribution to the system we lock ourselves along with our families into a safe cocoon and look into the distance at countries far away and wait for a Mr Clean to come along and work miracles for us with a majestic sweep of his hand or we leave the country and run away. Like lazy cowards hounded by our fears we run to America to bask in their glory and praise their system. When New York becomes insecure we run to England. When England experiences unemployment, we take the next flight out to the Gulf. When the Gulf is war struck, we demand to be rescued and brought home by the Indian government. Everybody is out to abuse and rape the country. Nobody thinks of feeding the system. Our conscience is mortgaged to money.

Thank you,

Dr Abdul Kalaam (PRESIDENT OF INDIA)

I can feel too...

I can smell a fragrance as well as you
or touch a petal as all else do,
but what I still can’t figure out
is why people forget that I can feel too!

I can sense when the sky turns dark
and picture the sun’s fiery hue,
yet they say my sense has worn out
and forget again that I can feel too.

I can hear the chirping morning birds
or relish a tasty steaming stew.
But when among others, I stand out
for perhaps it’s untrue, that I can feel too.

I can touch your heart and mind alike
for which I need no worldly cue;
only my inner eyes, just they
who still think that I can feel too.

I am wild, I know for sure,
yet for me, out of the blue
there are flashes of enchanting light
that make me feel that I can feel too.

This is one of my latest and heartfelt poems. I would like you to tell me how you interpret it, what images it brings to your mind, because that is important for my development as a poet - as a communicator of my ideas.