Miscellany

My first friend

2011-12-21T22:41:00.005+05:30

The first friend I had in life was my mamu, my mother's brother. More than an uncle, he was a buddy. Every evening, I would wait for him to come home from work. As soon as I heard the familiar phat-phat of his scooter, I would race out of my home and accompany him two flights of stairs up to his. There, I would wait patiently till he had his bath and ate a snack that my grand-mom had prepared for him, and then we would hang out together. We would go for a spin on his scooter around the colony or drop in to his friend Kersi's place or just go to the circle down the road to pick up a lottery ticket.

He had all sorts of nicknames for me. When I would go to him crying because I had been scolded by my parents, he would call me Kashmira, a girl's name. When he needed some help to fix something at home, I would be Begaari, labour. But his favourite name for me was Saparchand, apple or figuratively, simpleton. I would retaliate and call him Keru, banana. But it never had the effect I desired on him.

He clicked pictures of me and my sister through our childhood, and then lovingly mounted them himself in an album. We still have that album and treasure the memories of our childhood. The picture above is from that, of him holding my little sister. (Unfortunately, it's not of the two of us together.)

The album was kept away, locked in his cupboard, and we had to demand to see it. We weren't allowed to turn the pages. He would turn them himself. The first picture was his. He would point to it and say "Behesti (the late) Dara Bomanshaw Desai."

He took me to my first movie. He took me to Chowpatty to go up Bombay's first escalator and see the public Diwali fireworks. To the Don Bosco church where we waited in a serpentine queue to get a glimpse of a newly installed statue of Mary.

When I was in kindergarten, he made me bunk school on a Saturday and took me to Udwada for a weekend. When I asked him what do I tell my teacher when she asks the reason for my absence, he told me to say, "Heart fail." I chickened out, however. When the teacher indeed asked me why I hadn't attended school on Saturday, I truthfully said I'd gone to Udwada.

When I was a little older, he was transferred to Goa on work. I would wait for his vacations to Bombay with great anticipation, first counting down the days and then the hours to his arrival. On Thursday, my mid-week school holiday, he would take me out on a whole-day outing. We would leave in the morning on his scooter to his office at Wellington Mews, then to the World Trade Centre to buy shirts, always from Stanrose. The rest of the day we would visit relatives, his masis and mamas and cousins. My sister would be very jealous of these outings; Mamu was her friend too, but never such a big one as mine.

He had a signature whistle. Every time he bounded down the stairs, down from his house to mine, he would whistle. That was our cue to run to the door and open it. My first attempts at whistling were to imitate that signature tune.

That wasn't the only thing about him I tried to imitate. My ambition then was to be an engineer like him, and I even ended up studying in the colleges he studied in - Ruia and VJTI - before realising that my ambitions were actually elsewhere.

There are a couple of things though about me which I think are completely his influence, on reflection. A morbid sense of humour. And the way I behave with the children of my friends - more like a friend than as an uncle.

When I was 12, he married. Something ended then. Things were never the same after. He had his own family, and I moved on to newer friends. We became uncle and nephew.

Last month, as I watched him battle unsuccesfully with pancreatitis in the ICU at Jaslok Hospital, these memories came rushing back. And with them, the realisation that he was actually the very first friend I had.

Love you, Mamu. And miss you.

The Delhi-isation of India

2011-10-28T10:21:00.002+05:30

I do not watch much television. I don’t read newspapers or magazines, either. Very little in them interests me or engages me any more. My viewing and reading is increasingly over the Internet where I can search for stuff that interests me.

Last week, however, I was in Lucknow on holiday, and without the laptop. I ended up whiling a few hours in the hotel room in front of the television. And I found myself having a perverse attraction to two shows on Channel [V] in particular – Love Net 2.0 and Axe Your Ex.

I say perverse because these shows (and others like Dare To Date on the same channel and Emotional Atyachar on Bindass) pander to two of our basest desires for their success – the first is the desire of having a fantasy coming true (meeting your chat friends, revenge on your ex, spying on your boyfriend, going on a blind date) and the second, the voyeuristic urge to know the personal details of other people’s lives.

While watching these shows, I couldn’t help reflecting on the journey of the music (now turned youth) channels over the past two decades. They were “cool” in the early 90′s when they launched, transformed themselves to “desi cool” at the turn of the decade, and now are just plain “desi”. In a way, the sensibility has travelled, very evidently, from South Bombay to West Delhi. From people in ivory towers in South Mumbai producing what they think we should be watching, we now have people in ivory towers in Gurgaon producing what they think we want to watch.

It’s not just our youth channels that have made this journey. It’s the trend across channels. Fantasies come true when an Akshay Kumar hosts Masterchef India. Voyeurism is the USP of Big Boss and our daily soaps. Our news channels are full of it. And then there’s the IPL.

There’s nothing wrong in this Delhi-isation. Of course, Delhi-isation is a harsh term to use. It reinforces the unfortunate stereotype of Bombay being sophisticated and Delhi being boorish (which they aren’t), and doesn’t do justice to the good work coming out of this phenomenon, especially in films and advertising. Filmmakers like Anurag Kashyap and Dibakar Banerji are putting their Delhi sensibility to good use in their work and presenting a view of contemporary Delhi in much the same way as Hrishikesh Mukherji and Basu Chatterjee used to do with Bombay in the 70′s. And Piyush Pandey rewrote the rules in advertising by bringing Delhi to his work.

The reason for the increased Delhi-isation of our media is also due to a shift in our influences from British to American. Compare NDTV which started off as a BBC clone and transformed itself to a clone of Fox News. Or our cricket coverage whose packaging resembles that of any sport on American TV.

It may well be that Delhi-isation is a phase we have to pass through, before we become Kolkata-ised, like we were before the 70′s.

I’m reminded of a similar analysis of this phenomenon by the Bates planning team that explains it as a transition from Brahminical values to Kshatriya. You can read that here.

Badi Behenji is watching you

2011-10-25T12:34:00.006+05:30

Step out of Lucknow’s Amausi airport and you are greeted by giant hoardings proclaiming Mayawati’s achievements with Behenji smiling benignly from them. Leave the airport and drive into the city, and you’ll be haunted by them at every street corner there is.

We had come to Lucknow for a leisurely break. An unlikely destination for one, for sure, as people kept reminding me. “Lucknow?! On a holiday?” We were prepared to stay put in our hotel and just enjoy our time together. But Lucknow surprised us, and pleasantly.

I looked around for hints of the city’s famed tehzeeb. But other than being called ‘janaab’ instead of ‘sahab’ by autorickshaw drivers, shop salesmen and sundry others, I didn’t find much of it.

We avoided Mayawati’s grand parks with elephants that cost a crore each to sculpt and her handbags immortalised in stone (“I refuse to see such a colossal waste of public money,” as the wife put it), and instead opted to visit Lucknow’s heritage.

Amid the ruins of the Residency, where the mutineers of 1857 laid seige, we found ourselves invading the privacy of numerous amorous couples. We bid a hasty retreat to the Bada Imambara where guides are trained to parrot out the same old information while giving it a fresh new twist. So we encountered medieval age ‘CCTV cameras’ and other modern-day security features.

All this while, Lucknow’s autorickshaw drivers made sure they had a good Diwali at our expense. I’d always thought the biggest rogues in India were Chennai’s auto-walas, but Lucknow’s, I discovered, beat them by a fair distance. The Lucknow autorickshaw driver only counts in multiples of 50. He knows no other numbers.

At Hazratganj, Lucknow’s colonial shopping district, there seems to be a law that all signage on heritage buildings have to be white on a black background. It was quite interesting to see the all-too-familiar Airtel and Vodafone logos shorn of their brand colours. If you are a brand manager with one of them, don’t visit Hazratganj. You’ll have the worst nightmare of your life.

I couldn’t take a picture of it, but here’s a photo I found at http://sites.google.com/site/lovelylucknow/hazratganj_lucknow that will give you an idea of what to expect.

Stray thoughts on Anna Hazare (in reaction to a post by Raj Balakrishnan)

2011-08-16T23:48:00.000+05:30

Raj Balakrishnan I think most people support Anna without having an understanding of what he stands for. He stands for an unaccountable, undemocratic monstrosity called the Lok Pal, appointed by unelected civil society reps, which will stop development and become the fount of all corruption. The principle of fighting corruption is fine, Anna's solution is a disaster. Fasts unto death are intrinsically undemocratic.

The Congress of course has demonstrated continued incompetence

Kaevan Umrigar I don't know what Anna stands for, but I support him wholeheartedly. Why? Because he represents my angst with the system. I don't want his Lokpal Bill, I don't think he will even manage to get it passed. But I want his wake-up call to the Government. Let our politicians and business be less corrupt or more careful. The people have found a voice, and it will take some stifling.

Kaevan Umrigar I was watching Gandhi yesterday, and find the parallels unmistakable. Anna however is no Gandhi. Gandhi was a wily man who saw a virtue in being simple. Anna is a simple man who sees no virtue in being wily.

Kaevan Umrigar I have to add that I wasn't pro-Anna until today. I dismissed his Jantar Mantar fast as useless idealism. I laughed at the Baba Ramdev circus. But the way the government reacted today made it very clear that it has a lot to hide and a lot to lose. For a lone man to provoke such a response from a system makes him in my book worthy of my support.

From an email exchange with Mani Kaul

2011-07-07T09:01:00.000+05:30

"The value of an image or a sound (in the cinematographic system) is not in what it is; rather, it is in what it is not."

"When the most important (the most hidden idea) is found (or even sensed), the film will show how rich people are in their minds and hearts, and not how rich the film is in its forms and ideas."

"You will have to think for the film a sequence of scenes and for each scene a sequence of shots that are repeatedly informed of this question on account of their various juxtapositions. Not just raise the question at the end of the film in an epilogue. The question then will simmer between shots. In other words you should not attempt to make a single shot 'say' a thing. Rather, use differences between two or more shots to make the audience raise the question. The difference may in extreme situations amount to a contradiction."

"The relationship between images, between sounds and between images and sounds alone determines the content ( a world view or if you like the question) for the film. Keep only necessary images and necessary sounds. The necessity is on account of their mutual relationship."

"Do listen to others (I being one of the others for you) but strictly follow your own impulse. The project of any film is to find oneself in the making of it and not to merely fashion an cinematic object of high emotional or intellectual kind that is external to oneself."

RIP

Can we create a space for alternative films in the mainstream?

2010-01-05T15:05:00.002+05:30

In 2007, while travelling to Docedge in Kolkata from Colombo, I stopped over in Chennai to spend some time with friends. I was narrating to one of them the problems documentary filmmakers face in India - little access to funds, and worse still, even less access to an audience - when she said, why don't you guys start your own channel. It doesn't take much to lease a transponder, the problem is in creating content. And since documentary filmmakers already have a body of work that's waiting for an audience, it makes sense for them to get together and start a channel of their own.

At that time, I wasn't really convinced it would work. I made some vague arguments against it, but unknowingly a seed had been planted in my head.

A year later, I was at Docedge again. At a discussion about the future of documentaries, a fellow documentary filmmaker said that finding funds to make a documentary was not as difficult as finding avenues to show the documentary.

Suddenly, Vasantha's idea of documentary filmmakers starting a documentary channel seemed feasible to me.

A couple of weeks later, I was at MIFF, and there was another discussion of starting a documentary channel. A few filmmakers felt the government should do it, others thought an association of documentary filmmakers should do it. I was sceptical either would. And even if they did, they would suffer from all the problems that committee-run institutions suffer from. The government channel would be tepid and uncompetitive; the filmmakers' channel would have a collection of excellent films, but would not have the resources to effectively sustain it. Mainstream media groups, I knew, had been toying with the idea of starting a documentary channel too, or having documentary slots, but to make them commercially viable, they were giving documentary filmmakers a raw deal.

The only way out, I thought, was a kind of venture that's part co-operative, part corporate. I spoke to a friend who's into M&A about the viability of such a venture. He wasn't too enthusiastic about my amateur attempts to take on the Stars and Zees and UTVs of the world, but I still thought the idea was worth pursuing. For the moment though, I kept it on the backburner.

About a month back, an invigorating discussion on a note by Batul called 'The David and Goliath of filmmaking' motivated me to give the idea a public hearing. I'm posting what I wrote in that discussion to share the idea with a more disparate audience here, to see if we can bring this idea to fruition together. Here is the post:

"I had a long read at all the posts here, and I think this is the right forum to pitch an idea a friend and I have been toying with for a long time.

I agree there is a large audience for the kind of films we want to make. The problem is, the audience is too widespread to efficiently target through regular film distribution channels. But our own TV channel might just be the answer. An alternative TV channel that shows anything and everything mainstream has no room for.

I haven't done all my homework regarding the viability of this, it's not something I can do alone, but I gather that transponder costs are not much, what kills a channel are acquiring the software to keep it going, getting cable operators to carry it, and advertising the channel to the target audience.... See More

To avoid these pitfalls, we thought of a business model that's part corporate, part co-operative. It works like this. The channel is a proper business entity. We need to secure some initial funding from venture capital funds to set it up and for operating costs. We will definitely need to do a lot of number-crunching to prove the audience exists, that they are more than willing to watch this channel over other general entertainment channels, etc to attract this funding, for which we need to business and marketing people who think like we do

This venture capitalist gets part of the stake for the capital they bring in. The rest of the stake belongs to filmmakers who get a share in the company in proportion to the running time of the films they bring in. The software acquisition cost therefore becomes zero, which is what makes this idea plausibly viable. And as and when the channel picks up an audience and advertisers, and starts making profits, the filmmakers will get dividends on their investments.

Now for distribution. Going through the regular cable distribution set-up is going to be bloody expensive, and the channel will fold up even before it starts. But there is now the option of DTH. If we can tie up with one of the DTH platforms, charge a reasonable monthly subscriber fee, we might be able to attract an initial audience from those who watch World Movies and NDTV Lumiere.

About the only expense we will have is promoting the channel.

Is this idea practical or utopian? We need to discuss this with some business and marketing heads to find out."

Pink Chaddies

2009-02-12T08:29:00.001+05:30

The Pink Chaddies campaign is everywhere. On Facebook. On people's blogs. In the news. Everyone seems quite excited about it - a symbolic protest against the moral police. But, I have my reservations about it. As a symbolic protest, it just doesn't work.

The protest reminds me of Paromita Vohra's documentary film, 'Morality TV and the loving jehad'. I remember being thoroughly entertained throughout the film, laughing at the statements being made by the custodians of morality. But when my laughter subsided, I felt that if I was a conservative watching this film, I wouldn't be laughing or even understand that my views were being mocked by the filmmaker. Instead, I would be shaking my head in agreement with whatever these custodians were saying. And so, at the end of the day, the film, to me, was a wasted effort. It was like sharing a private joke between the filmmaker and her audience, and the butt of the joke just didn't know he was being laughed at because it was not in a language he understood.

This is exactly the problem I have with the Pink Chaddies. Instead of making the perpetrators of the Mangalore incident feel even a tinge of remorse at their actions, it is only going to act as further justification. "Women who send their chaddies to unknown men deserve to be beaten up."

So, the Consortium of Loose, Pub-Going and Forward Women, protest in a language these men understand. Target a bar at random, enter with a posse of women and TV cameras, and beat up all the men for not taking care of their families.

Kiarostami's short gems

2009-01-06T00:41:00.002+05:30

Hamsarayan (The Chorus)

Nan va Koutcheh (Bread and Alley)

Do Rahehal Barayeh Yek Mass (Two solutions for one problem)

Some great music...

2008-10-04T10:10:00.002+05:30

...I've been listening to, over and over again, ever since I discovered it on YouTube.

Jolene - Dolly Parton

Let's Call The Whole Thing Off - Louis Armstrong & Ella Fitzgerald

Man Smart, Woman Smarter - Grateful Dead

Rock On and The Lives Of Others

2008-09-05T14:42:00.002+05:30

Given the paucity of coherently written scripts in Bollywood, I thought the script of Rock On rocked. The characters of Aditya and Joe were very well developed, and I was willing to forgive the compromises the script would have taken to get it made as a mainstream Bollywood movie - like its unauthenticity as far as the rock scene in Bombay is concerned, and the complete absence of sex and drugs as part of the lifestyle, which films from the West wouldn't shy away from. I was even willing to forgive it for its glaring weaknesses - the undeveloped characters of Rob and KD. Especially Rob's. The two dramatic moments that the script offers him are completely unconvincing. I also thought the script copped out when they show him dying of a brain tumour. Clearly, AIDS is still taboo in mainstream Bollywood.

Anyway, I thought the script still rocked. Until the next day, I saw The Lives Of Others. Suddenly, my benchmark shifted. The script sketches the character of the Stasi agent so strongly, it makes the two lead characters in Rock On look pretty tame.

Snippets from a love story

2008-08-09T14:22:00.001+05:30

It was her birthday. And our second date.

After an evening of drinking, eating, talking, we were walking to Marine Drive to sit and talk some more.

She was telling me, if I remember right, how her aunt wanted her to be more like this, more like that.

I told her, you are fine the way you are.

Ah, you like me, she squealed. And punched me on the arm. A devious smile was on her face.

I continued walking, my hands in my pockets. Hell, I admitted to myself for the first time, I think I do.

***

On our first date, she proposed marriage four times.

Each time, she casually slipped it in, in the middle of a conversation, catching me out unawares.

She would laugh at the momentary jolt I got, before I would get the joke.

Then, on the third date, we spent 17 hours together.

In those 17 hours, she revealed, for the first time, a side to her that she had buried under all her jokes. I suddenly knew, I just knew.

I decided the next time she proposed, I would accept.

She sensed it. I am scared, she told me, you don't react any more when I talk of marriage.

I would have blurted it out then, but I had a feeling it would be taken for another joke.

But later that evening, I casually slipped it in, in the middle of an SMS conversation.

***

Her answer was No.

She didn't give any reasons, and I didn't ask for any.

Well, that was that, I thought to myself.

Later, she called. She said she liked being with me, enjoyed my company. But her answer was still No.

Back home, Vinoo asked me how the trip with her went.

Life, I told him, is getting complicated.

Vinoo hummed about in the kitchen, fixing a cup of tea for himself. He smiled. What terms people have for falling in love, he said, life is getting complicated!

Teach India

2008-07-18T11:09:00.002+05:30

I didn't pay much attention to the long copy ads that made up the Teach India print campaign. The hoadings however caught my attention. You can't miss them. They are all over the city. Proudly reinforcing stereotypes. The rich are fair. The poor are dark. The educated are fair. The illiterate, dark. The successful are fair. The wretched, dark. It is just too blatant.

Code Inconnu/Michael Haneke (2000)

2008-07-06T01:32:00.002+05:30

Each shot is a like a fragment of a jigsaw puzzle. You piece it together in your mind. The pieces don't dovetail into each other though. They just touch tangentially at points. And not all the pieces are there. But you can still see the complete picture unfold in front of you. A satisfying film on all counts.

On A Tightrope

2008-06-30T23:57:00.002+05:30

As I watched fellow students talk about each other to the camera at a school for tightrope walkers somewhere in China, I had a vague feeling I had watched something similar before. Then, as the coach started berating his students and another teacher, it suddenly hit me where I had seen it all before. On every bloody reality show on Indian TV. And every bit as tedious.

Mithya

2008-06-28T11:38:00.002+05:30

Somewhere near the end of Mithya, after you have sat through all the tedious buffoonery, you suddenly realise what a film it could have been. There is so much potential and power in the idea of a man ending up living and believing in the part he is playing. Instead, Rajat Kapoor tries to make it comic, to make it more audience-friendly and producer-friendly, I guess. The result is a film that is neither art nor commerce.

Jodha-Akbar

2008-06-28T11:17:00.003+05:30

Given that Hollywood is influencing Bollywood in a big way these days, I was expecting to see a more contemporary version of the costume dramas of Sohrab Modi and K Asif - something more like Troy or Gladiator. Instead, Jodha-Akbar is pretty much stuck in the old theatrical style of the days gone by. If it was meant to be a homage, it just doesn't work. The war sequence in the beginning was pretty awful, and the film only began to regain my interest at the Sufi song midway through the first half. I thought that was quite stylishly shot and choreographed. The film picks up from there till the interval, largely because of Hritik who lifts the film with a compelling performance. It raises your expectations for what is to follow after the interval. Sadly, the film doesn't deliver on them and reverts back to being a shoddy imitation of 19th century Parsi theatre.

Persepolis

2008-06-28T10:57:00.002+05:30

What impressed me most about Persepolis was that the simple animation style did not lighten the blow, it did not lessen the impact of the brutality of Islamic Iranian society. Two moments, in stark black animation, that I particularly remember are a pitch black tank in the foreground filling up the screen and another when thick black blood flows out of the body of a prostesting thick black figure.

Persepolis is also an inspirational film. The characters - whether it is Marjane herself, or her feisty grandmother, or her many relations in the Communist Party, or even her mother - are all about being true to your own self and doing things on your terms, against all odds. Something to feel nice about, as one soldiers on in life trying to do the same thing.

Aamir

2008-06-25T01:09:00.002+05:30

I really really wanted to like Aamir. Not since Satya have I seen a film that captures the underbelly of Mumbai so grippingly. So much so, I was willing to suspend my disbelief and accept that a couple of bikers could toss a cellphone to an unsuspecting stranger and lead him on to a treasure hunt where the treasure is his kidnapped family. I was also willing to forgive the overuse of the shift focus, the overuse of music. What I couldn't forgive, however, was the end. Finally, all the realistic treatment cannot salvage what is an unbelievable storyline.

Two photo exhibitions

2008-06-21T09:51:00.006+05:30

As you spiral up the split level exhibition spaces at the NGMA looking at the Raghu Rai retrospective currently on there, you do not give much thought to the space itself as you do the individual pieces on display. It is only when you reach the top that you realise the elegance of the building design. The dome at the NGMA has to be one of the most impressive exhibition spaces we have in the city. And fittingly, it showcases some of Raghu Rai's best work in the entire retrospective. Some of the early work on the lower level is also very memorable, but the work displayed at the levels in the middle were, to me, middling at best. Especially the colour photographs which are not half as haunting as the B&Ws.

The Raghu Rai retrospective is on for another month, but unfortunately the Martine Franck exhibit at Art Musings in Colaba ends today. I liked her work even more than Raghu Rai's. She has a wonderful eye, both for moments and compositions. Martine Franck, incidentally, happens to be Henri Cartier-Bresson's wife.

For those who won't be able to make it in time to the exhibition by 4 pm today, here's a selection of some of my favourites from the work on display.

Clicked with the mobile

2008-06-04T19:12:00.001+05:30

Somewhere near Alleppey, Kerala

The pool at the edge of the world

2008-06-04T13:55:00.001+05:30

Wildernest resort, Goa

Two houses in Wayanad, Kerala

2008-06-04T10:14:00.010+05:30

You can drive up to the first floor of this one. Or better still, just hop across to the terrace from the road.

And this one comes with its own pet rock.

Things Fall Apart/Chinua Achebe

2008-06-02T02:08:00.001+05:30

I have a fascination for Africa and I thought I'd share with you one of my favourite books on Africa.

Things Fall Apart tells the story of a pre-colonial Africa. Of a time when the white man was yet to set foot on the dark continent and change it irreparably for ever. It talks of the tribal traditions, superstitions, culture and way of life. And it tells it like a traditional tribal storyteller. It is as if you are seated around a bonfire at night, sitting rapt and enthralled, as the ancient teller of tales recounts the history of the tribe.

There are a few lines I can never forget. A tribal woman sings her child to sleep with a traditional Ibo song:
"For whom is it good? For whom is it good?
There is nobody for whom it is good."

Chinua Achebe provides a very African view of Africa. For a South Asian view of Africa, I recommend VS Naipaul's A Bend In The River and In A Free State. And for a warm-hearted look at a continent ravaged by AIDS and civil wars, read the No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency series by Alexander McCall Smith.

84, Charing Cross Road/Helene Hanff

2008-06-01T17:04:00.000+05:30

This is the story of an online relationship long before the days of the Internet. In post-war America, Helene Hanff, a struggling writer, writes a letter to a bookstore in London. And thus begins an exchange of letters that endures for over 30 years. This is one of the most warm-hearted books I've ever read, and it brings a smile to my face every time I read it.

Also recommended is the sequel, in a way, to this book - The Duchess of Bloomsbury Street, Helene Hanff's journal of her long-awaited trip to London after the publication of 84, Charing Cross Road.

Mixed Marriage and other Parsi stories/Meher Pestonji

2008-06-01T17:03:00.000+05:30

Are we Parsis really as great as we think we are? Meher Pestonji's answer is a vehement no. In this collection of atypical Parsi stories, she exposes our collective dark side, picking up one taboo subject after another. In many ways, this is an angry book, an extreme book, and your first reaction may be we are not this way at all. But then, we're nothing like the hagiographies we like to write and read about ourselves too. So I suggest you read both extremes and get a sense of balance of who we really are.

Histories for the Subjugated/David Hardiman

2008-06-01T17:01:00.000+05:30

As a community, we Parsis have always regarded our history in India as a glorious one, full of pride and achievement and very little else. But there are other aspects to our history as well, unsavoury aspects that we choose not to see because it doesn't fit into the self-preceptions of who we are.

Histories for the Subjugated gives us a subaltern view of history - history from the point of view of the opressed, not the oppressors. In our case, they are the adivasis of Gujarat who got subjugated to Parsi liquor dealers and landlords in South Gujarat.

The Parsi as the evil Thakur who usurps peasant lands and has his way with their women won't go down well with those of us who believe that we can do no wrong, but the fact is that despite good thoughts, good words and good deeds, we are no more human than anyone else. And alternate readings of history provide a much-needed balance to our perceptions of who we are.

An introduction to experimental films: Bare/Santana Issar

2008-06-01T16:46:00.004+05:30

Perhaps, the most exasperating films to watch are experimental films. That's because many experimental filmmakers experiment for the sake of the experiment itself. Audiences however are used to watching films for a story to unfold, and are unable to figure out what story the filmmaker wants to tell. To appreciate such films, we have to make a dramatic mental shift and start seeing films not for the story but for the film itself.

This is not easy at all. Therefore, to introduce you to experimental films, I'm showing you a film that experiments with the way it tells a story, a very personal story, using the most personal of material available to the filmmaker. Describing it further will only kill the experience of watching the film, so just go ahead and watch it here.

http://video.tiscali.it/categorie/Cortometraggi/Filmvideo/1124.html

An introduction to documentary films: Nanook of the North/Robert Flaherty

2008-06-01T16:46:00.003+05:30

If you are brought up in India, chances are, you consider a documentary film to be a dull, boring film that has long-winded soporific commentary and an overdose of information. It's unfortunate that the only documentary films we have been exposed to are the really bad ones, propaganda films in disguise. And those, sadly, have formed a lasting impression of documentary films as a genre in our minds.

To change that impression, I would like to show you one of the first documentary films ever made. Nanook of the North gives us a glimpse into the lives of the Eskimos (Itivimuits for the politically correct) in Canada's Hudson Bay at the turn of the 20th century. I don't want to say much about it, except that it's everything you think a documentary isn't: entertaining, funny, dramatic. Most memorable for me is the scene when Nanook goes hunting for seals.

Watch Nanook of the North here.
http://v.youku.com/v_show/id_cc00XMTM3MTc5MDg=.html

An introduction to Iranian cinema: Children of Heaven/Majid Majidi

2008-06-01T16:43:00.002+05:30

If you are tired with the formulaic fare of both Hollywood and Bollywood, a good alternative is Iranian cinema. Subtitled DVDs of Iranian films are available across the globe, and the masters of Iranian cinema - Abbas Kiarostami and Mohsen Makhmalbaf - are among the all-time greats of world cinema. Their styles are very different from each other. Kiarostami is spare and austere, even downright minimalist in his later films, and Makhmalbaf uses melodrama in very unmelodramatic fashion. If you haven't watched foreign films too often though, it could take some time to acquire a taste for them. A good way to begin watching their films is through the films of Majid Majidi.

Children of Heaven is a simple story of an Iranian schoolboy who loses his shoes, and has to share a pair with his sister. It leads to a lot of problems in school, and the only way out is to come second place in a race, the prize for which, you guessed it right, is a pair of shoes.

You can watch it on the net at
http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=2085360636693346701

It's not my favourite Majidi film. I personally find the film a little manipulative in extorting emotions from you, but it's a good introduction to Majidi's other films that I really like, Colours of Paradise and Baran (Rain). But the reason I talk about it here is that I think it is one film that will hook you on to Iranian films, and make you want to see more.

Another early film: The Conjurer/George Melies, 1899

2008-06-01T16:42:00.002+05:30

When we were shown this film in film school, we found it hard to believe that such a film was made in 1899. Melies was a magician before he got interested in films, and here he performs magic with film.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OYa4gBBFaqY

The world's first films: Lumiere Brothers, 1895

2008-06-01T16:41:00.002+05:30

I didn't know that the world's first films made by the Lumiere brothers still existed until I saw them at film school. Watching a part of history was quite a moment for me and I thought I'd share it with you here. Watch the films screened on that memorable day, 28th December 1895 here.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QZIfZ0yJPX8

Silent comedy: Buster Keaton

2008-06-01T16:39:00.002+05:30

The world world seems to know Charlie Chaplin, but not that many people have heard of Buster Keaton, another legendary comedian from the same era. But among those who know him, Buster Keaton enjoys cult status, as he traverses from adventure to adventure with the same deadpan expression on his face. Two of my favourite Keaton films are Sherlock Jr and Seven Chances. The chase sequence at the end of Seven Chances is just too hilarious. The women of the entire town run after him to get married to him. I couldn't find it anywhere though to show you all, but no matter, here is Sherlock Jr. Watch and laugh.

http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-8074699069179823154

Salata Baladi (Maison Salade)

2008-06-01T16:37:00.001+05:30

When she sees her little nephew listening intently to the mullahs dividing the world into Islam and its enemies over the loudspeakers one Id, Egyptian filmmaker Nadia Kemal decides to introduce him to the multicultural origins of her family. The result is her documentary film Salata Baladi (a Parsi approximation of the title would be Akoori ☺).

A beautiful portrait of a family develops, as we slowly get to know the characters – the nephew who’s far more intelligent than his years, his grandmother who reveals a depth far beyond a cuddly old woman, her husband who’s insignificant through most of the film, but shows a most unexpected side of him when it really matters, and an extended network of family and friends spread across countries, cultures and languages.

The film is long but absorbing, and unfortunately, not yet available on DVD. The best place to catch it is at a documentary film festival. Meanwhile, here’s a trailer you can watch.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eAFJU2pkKTU

Colombo - The Seaspray at The Galle Face Hotel

2008-06-01T16:30:00.001+05:30

Right where the Galle Face promenade ends in Colombo, The Seaspray begins. The Seaspray sits at the edge of the sea, just above the rocks into which the Arabian Sea crashes with unfailing regularity. The first thing to do at Seaspray is to pull your table right to the edge of the parapet; don't listen to the protests of the waiters. Then order your favourite poison, face the sea, listen to the waves crashing below you and feel the sea spraying into your face. If you are lucky, the other guests will be in a similar mood, and will not be chattering away too much to disturb what is a superb ambience. This is one place where the food and drink don't really matter; in fact, I don't remember what I've eaten there. There are other beachfront places in Colombo where the seafood is great, at Beach Wadiya and the Mount Lavinia Hotel, but they just don't have the magic of The Seaspray.

In the few months I lived in Colombo, The Seaspray was one of my favourite watering holes. The others were the Inn on the Green, also at The Galle Face Hotel, with an incredible variety of beers and where Newcastle Brown Ale became my favourite tipple; The Mix, the sports bar at the Taj Samudra which played some wonderful 80's and 90's music; and the Bambalapitiya Bar, a seedy rundown place where the liquor was cheap, but still somehow had a charm of its own since it looked like an old Parsi house, it even had a few chairs that looked like they belonged to one.

The ECR to Pondicherry

2008-06-01T16:17:00.000+05:30

The East Coast Road from Madras to Pondicherry is perhaps the most picturesque highway in India. It skirts the sea for the major part, and the sea is a deep green, unlike the murky waters around Bombay. I first went to Pondicherry on a business trip. And it was truly mixing business with pleasure. The client wanted to give us a taste of Pondicherry, so he put us up at the Ashram Guest House. It's part of the Aurobindo Ashram, and isn't really a hotel, but more of a meditation retreat. So it comes with strict house rules. The doors shut at 10 and you better be back in your rooms by that time. There's no TV, no phone, no AC, in the rooms, but the rooms are very comfortable, and the sea crashing on the rocks outside the balcony provides some wonderful music. And oh, the cafe only serves healthy satvik food. Forget the French repast here.

The second night he took us to his beach house on the outskirts of Pondicherry. Built on the sands, mainly with wood, operating on solar power. We had to leave the car we came in at the gate, and hop into a Land Cruiser to traverse the final few hundred metres or so from the gate to the house. Indian SUVs, like the Safari we came in, we were told, can't drive over the sands. It was an idyllic retreat, but I fear the tsunami would have ravaged it completely.

The next morning, he and his wife rustled up a wonderful meal for us, couscous and hummus and whatnot. In return, we created an excellent advertising campaign for him. I hope it brought in customers to his satisfaction.

Whistle-stopping through South Kerala

2008-06-01T16:13:00.000+05:30

The earlier post brought back memories of another whistle-stop tour to Kerala I made many years back. I was in Bangalore then, and always wanted to make a trip to Kerala, but it was getting difficult to coordinate a holiday with a whole bunch of interested friends. A friend was getting engaged in Trivandrum, and two of us decided to travel with him, for a short weekend trip. We took a bus from Bangalore on a Thursday afternoon to Quilon, the buses to Trivandrum were all booked. At Quilon, we got into a train for the hour's journey to Trivandrum.

There wasn't much to do in Trivandrum, so I suggested a trip to Kanyakumari. There's nothing much in Kanyakumari other than a rock, my friend told me, and instead we spent the evening at the Kovalam beach. Beautiful waters, but a bit too touristy for my liking. The next morning, we drove down to Periyar wildlife sanctuary at Thekkady. Took a boat safari and went up the river looking for elephants. The next morning, we signed up for a walk into the forest to take a closer look at the magnificent beasts, braving leeches, leopards and other wildlife, along with a forest guide. We did see the elephants close range in the wild, quite an experience. Luckily, they didn't charge at us :)

After that, it was another long drive to Cochin, where we took a boat ride in the harbour, and got into a bus back to Bangalore. Our friend went back to Trivandrum for his engagement.

Whistle-stopping through North Kerala

2008-06-01T16:06:00.001+05:30

A few weeks back, I went on a week-long budget holiday to the north of Kerala – the three northernmost districts of Kasargod, Kannur and Wayanad. Admittedly, the north is not as pretty as its southern cousin, but it still has its own charms.

One of them is Theyyam, the reason I was here in the first place. It’s difficult to describe what Theyyam is. You could say it’s a dance form, similar to Kathakali, but it is also something much more. It shares with Kathakali the elaborate face-painting, the colourful costumes, the ornate headgear, but that’s where the similarity ends. While Kathakali acts out stories about the gods, the performers who don the Theyyam become gods themselves.

Steeped in religion and superstition, Theyyam is certainly not for the queasy. Walking on hot coals, possession by spirits, animal sacrifice – it’s all part of a Theyyam performance.

Theyyam performances take place all over north Kerala from November to April. They are a visual spectacle, red being the predominant colour from the painted faces to the costumes to the headgear. And people throng to get blessed by the gods. The devotion and humility with which people listen to the performers parroting blessings in exchange for money was something which really amazed me.

The north of Kerala has quite a substantial Muslim population. We took a ferry through the backwaters of Valiyaparamba, and at every stop a few women in burkha would climb aboard. When we reached the last stop, a long line of women all dressed in black trooped out of the boat. It was like watching an Afghani film or Mani Rathnam’s Bombay right in front of my eyes.

We also made a 3-day whistle-stop tour through Wayanad. Wayanad is forest country. And the road from Kannur to Manantawadi passes through some very dense forest. There were parts when I couldn’t see the sun through the trees. The attractions of Wayanad are the inhabitants of the forests – both tribal and animal. We didn’t really have the time though to venture deep into the forest where the tribal settlements are, and with the animals too, our luck was no better. The jeep ahead of us spotted a tiger, the one after us spotted a leopard. We, on the other hand, had to make do with elephants and spotted deer.

A must-visit in Wayanad is the Edakkal caves. Clambering over the rocks is a physical and mental challenge, and quite a thrill. And the pre-historic cave paintings simply awesome.

Into the forests of North Karntaka

2008-06-01T15:00:00.000+05:30

It’s 500 km from Mumbai to Belgaum, but it’s a great road to drive on, and the eight hours (including stopovers) go by comfortably. The next 50 km to the Chorla ghat on the border of Karnataka and Goa though are anything but comfortable. The road (if you could say one exists) is extremely bumpy, and you are better off leaving your car behind in Belgaum like we did, and avail the pick-up that the Wildernest resort so willingly provides.

The 50 odd kilometers to Wildernest are the most trying. It takes two and a half hours, the bumps jar your body, it feels like the road will never end, and your patience gets severely tested. But the destination is worth the journey.

The Wildernest resort is exactly what its name suggests – a nest in the midst of wilderness. You trek down from the reception down to your rooms. And what rooms! Cabins built out of wood right at the edge of the hill. There’s no television, but a widescreen window plays the National Geographic Channel live. The view is spectacular. The state of Goa unfolds itself from the hills to the sea, with the Mandovi river snaking in between. The swimming pool is also perched on the edge of the hill, and must be one of the most spectacular pools in the world.

The Wildernest is however not for the queasy. You’ll be sharing your room with all sorts of creepie-crawlies – ants, bugs, lizards, perhaps even the odd rat and snake. You might also complain about lack of sleep because of the incessant chirping and chattering of various insects, frogs and birds. And there’s very little to do there besides being at one with nature. If you crave for some comforts of civilization along with your dose of Mother Nature, you might find Dandeli more welcoming.

Dandeli is another 100 km away from Belgaum, and thankfully other than a small stretch of 10 km or so, the road is quite comfortable. Of course, once you’ve been on the road to Wildernest, any road feels comfortable.

The Kali Adventure Camp at first sight is quite a disappointment after the rustic charms of Wildernest. It looks like any other Government undertaking – unimaginative, uninteresting and unromantic. But the staff more than make up for it with their enthusiasm for wildlife. Our guide, Datta, took us on a very exhaustive tour of the teak forests in search of wildlife, foraying deep into the woods. At the end, he was as disappointed as us in not spotting much wildlife.

Other things to do at Dandeli are whitewater rafting down the rapids of the Kali river, and floating down with the current in a coracle in search of crocodiles.

You could also replicate the Wildernest experience in Dandeli at another resort called Hornbill where you can stay in tree-top houses on the edge of the river, and make the river your private swimming pool.

And on the way back to Mumbai, stop over at Kolhapur for two authentic Kolhapuri specialities – the chappals and the food. There’s a street in Shivaji Market that sells nothing but Kolhapuri chappals in various designs and shopaholics will find it hard to resist picking up as many pairs as possible. And dig into really spicy Kolhapuri mutton between large gulps of Bisleri.

Sri Lanka: 'Upcountry'

2008-06-01T11:51:00.000+05:30

You would find it hard to imagine that in a tropical island like Sri Lanka, there would be places where the temperature would drop to freezing. I didn’t believe it myself until I went to Nuwara Eliya.

Nuwara Eliya is where all Sri Lankans go to beat the heat. It’s up in the hills, in the heart of the tea country. When we went in March, there was a delicious nip in the air. We could imagine how chilling the winters must be.

The best way to get there is to drive there. The road snakes through tea plantations, and there are plenty of diversions en route if you are in the mood to stop and look. There’s the place where ‘Bridge on the River Kwai’ was shot, and Adam’s Peak. We didn’t have much time though, just 3 days, so we kept driving on instead.

A must-visit when you are in Nuwara Eliya is the Tea Factory Hotel. A terribly bumpy ride takes you there, and it is some way off from the town, but it’s worth all the trouble. Like the name says, it’s an abandoned tea factory that was converted into a hotel. Packing crates form the bar, and most of the machinery is still intact.

Also worth visiting is Horton Plains, a primeval forest, that’s approachable by another scary road. The best time to be there is before dawn, a time unfortunately when all of us were cosily dreaming in bed. You could also visit the Hakgala Botanical Gardens, but the Peradeniya Botanical Gardens near Kandy are better.

Kandy is also in the hill country, but not as cold. It’s the cultural capital of Sri Lanka. I went there in August to witness the Esala Perahera, an annual procession when the tooth relic from the Temple of the Tooth is paraded around the city accompanied by hundreds of elephants, dancers, acrobats and what not. Frankly though, there’s a limit to the number of elephants you can keep watching, it just gets repetitive.

Other cultural sights in Kandy are the Temple of the Tooth itself, and the famed Kandyan dancers. Other sidelights are the Pinewala Elephant Orphanage and the Peradeniya Botanical Gardens, with its exotic double coconut trees whose nuts weigh 20 kg.

If it’s culture though you are looking for, the places to go are further north of Kandy – the cultural triangle of Anuradhapura, Dambulla and Sigiriya. I haven’t been there myself, but the pictures of Sigiriya really make me wish I’d made a trip there. Perhaps another time.

Sri Lanka: 'Down south'

2008-06-01T11:47:00.000+05:30

I spent 9 months in Sri Lanka, and found it a difficult place to live and work, but I’d still recommend it as a great place for a short holiday.

My travel tip is to spend the least possible time in Colombo. Once you’ve shopped at Odel, had a typical Sri Lankan lunch at Senkada opposite, had your choice of drinks at the Inn on the Green or the Seaspray at the Galle Face Hotel, and dined over seafood at the Wadiya Beach or the Mount Lavinia Hotel, there’s nothing more left to do in Colombo. Just head out and see the rest of the country.

The north and the east are out of bounds, unfortunately. The options you have are to go ‘down South’ or go ‘upcountry’ as the Sri Lankans put it.

The South is avoidable in the summer months, but any other time of the year, it makes a beautiful road trip. The road runs parallel to the sea, and the views of the ocean are breath-taking.

We just headed out one weekend without a plan, stopping wherever we felt like, whenever we felt like. We had been recommended the lunch buffet at the Blue Water at Wadduwa, so we made a stopover there. Enjoy a swim, dig into the buffet, and when overfull, lie on the deck-chairs under the swaying palms and enjoy a siesta. Then perk up with a cuppa and head out further south.

Further on up is Bentota, but we gave that a miss and drove on to Hikkaduwa. It’s a very touristy town, popular with Germans and Swedes. It’s a bit too commercial, so if it’s not a mini-Goa you are looking to visit with handicraft shops and and seafood restaurants at every step, then you are better off just passing through.

The real beauty of the Sri Lankan south is further ahead at Galle and beyond. The Galle fort is a charming heritage site, where people still live inside the olden houses of the Dutch fort, with pretty much the same furniture. It’s like traveling back to colonial times, and quite a few houses are reminiscent of old Parsi houses in the villages of Gujarat. And, oh, the waters are amazingly crystal clear.

Further south is Unawatuna, which is as far as we went before we made the long drive back to Colombo. A sleepy resort town, with none of the commercial fare of Hikkaduwa. You can see the famed stilt fishermen here, who perch on stilts in the sea hours on end to catch fish.

If you have the time, you can continue to the southern tip to Matara, and move up the south-eastern coast where the beaches are emptier and more peaceful. But I had work the next day, and had to miss out.

In the next post, we go ‘upcountry’ to the tea-gardens of Nuwara Eliya.