Woes of a lazy journo

This piece was supposed to be written by a former trade journalist but she's apparently too lazy to do the needful. What's intriguing though is the behavioral interpretation of whether she was/became lazy before/after she switched careers. However, what we expect of journos is that they are meant to be on their feet 24/7 with their eyes and ears wide open. But then there are exceptions too. Not all scribes are like Clark Kent (just so you know Superman has quit his job as a journalist and is currently vella!). If that weren't the case, the present standards in media wouldn't have been in love with gravity. There are people who take things for granted and it has more to do with their personalities and less to do with their profession. So what makes a mediaperson complacent? Is it the rigorous call of duty? Or are there other reasons? For instance, transcribing is considered a bane in print media. Conducting interviews is not half as cumbersome as the task that lays ahead. Typing while listening to the dictaphone lets a journalist acknowledge how indolent s/he can truly be. Media often abuses its right to speak out of turn but it's funny how you can't transcribe out of turn. You've got to wait for the interviewee to finish the sentence and then you can go ahead and twist the quotes! This is just one example of how the sinful sloth works against you. There are many more. Besides, journalism is where you get more things done out of laziness than not. And the trick is to put the know in journo and the media in immediately.

A year in a tabloid

I completed a year in MiD DAY today. Having entered the IIT of Bollywood Journalism exactly one year ago, it's hard to believe that they haven't kicked me out yet! Time went by and all i could do was take printouts of my broken dreams. I don't know what i just said. Anyway, that's not important. What's worth noting, however, is the fact that i didn't do something I'm really good at: giving up easily. I stuck to this job even though I'm well aware that i lack the qualities of a typical journo. Pitched against the pace at which my colleagues churn out stories, I'm a snail but i console myself by convincing myself that I'm a better writer. Not that it matters. Also I'm damn honest and my integrity is an endangered species. Yes, it matters. And to top it all, i don't scream (out of agony) when i see my salary slip. On the brighter end, my editor—like my former editor who hired me in the first place—is one of the coolest people i know. The colleagues are wonderful too as they are kind enough to laugh at my silly jokes. But it would be a lie if i said that i knew where i was heading to when i joined this rag. It would be a bigger lie if i said that i know where I'm heading to as of now. Currently positioned as the entertainment reporter who covers movies along with music and books, i get in touch with people y'all usually read about. In all honesty, that's the only incentive of this otherwise unimaginative job. When you meet famous people in flesh, you realize how similar they are to us. Only the wall of fame separates us. I hope i keep hurdling this wall in the days/nights to come and more importantly, i get the raise i so deserve. Thank you, HR, for reading this exclusive piece of trite.

A week full of names to drop

   Though incredibly busy, it had been one heck of a week. In the meanwhile, I met some interesting people from the film industry who didn't fail to impress despite my constant attempt at asking silly questions.

   It all began on Monday night when I had a chance interaction with SRK at Mannat. I was made to wait for 3 1/2 hours but it was worth the wait. This guy is phenomenal as I must have noted before but this time around, he was doubly fun because my interview lasted 56:53 minutes—more than double the time allotted—all thanks to his generous "Let him finish!" to his manager. He is such an awesome raconteur and has so much to say, with his trademark pinch of humour. I still feel that his early movies were his finest in terms of acting but I believe that he's an enlightened soul now. I might be wrong here... but he was right about chasing dreams without worrying too much about consequences. Well, he tried and look where he's now.

  The following morning, I went to meet Ang Lee at Marriott. I was supposed to wrap up the interview in 15 minutes. And there I was sitting next to the most humblest person (given the scale of individual achievements, of course) I've ever met in my life. It's hard to accept that this saintly guy made such bazooka films! The more occupying thing I heard from him was about God. He said something to the effect of filling the void in us by creating His/Her image outside us. The first and last celeb I took a picture with was Shashi Tharoor. I so wanted to click one with dao-yan (meaning director/master in Mandarin and that's what the lucky debutant Suraj Sharma calls him) but then I decided against it. Related: I'M SO F—ING REGRETTING MY IMPULSE RIGHT NOW!

   Later that day, I also got in touch with Tabu and Irrfan. The former was very funny, quashing the serious image media has so far created out of her. The latter was quite absorbing and diplomatic. Since Life of Pi has a strong dose of spirituality induced, I asked him about it. His question to me was eye-opening: "What do you mean by spirituality?" This was a startling response because at that point, I fully acknowledged the ambiguity of words. My spirituality could be different from yours just like your ignorance could be better than mine. Everything differs.

   On Wednesday, I met Reema Kagti. She directed Talaash and is waiting for its release, just like Aamir's fans are. I wish I could say that she was boring because if you look at her picture, that's the image that your mind tends to paint. At least my mind did. Anyway, Reema was on a blitzkrieg and barely allowed me to ask my usual foolish queries. The no-nonsense interview got over in 11:34 minutes, a new record!

   Thursday was spent doing what I generally do: waiting for the kind of weekdays I just mentioned to occur.

   On Friday night, I went to Tata Theatre and met Naseer saab backstage. I was warned beforehand by my Editor that he's a difficult person to talk to and if my questions don't interest him, he won't hesitate to let me know. Fortunately, he spoke for more than 15 minutes and even cracked a few quips while he was at it. To me, he's one of India's few complete actors. Before leaving the green room, he re-asked my name and said, "Write whatever you want!" In all probability, I must have posed engaging questions for him to say that.

   On Saturday, Katrina Kaif called at 12:46pm when she was supposed to pick up my call at 11:30am sharp. Talking on phone is a pain because I'm not really good at it. One-on-one is comparatively easier. Also, stardom and punctuality aren't meant for each other in Bollywood; especially when it comes to phoner. But her heavily-Brit accent was certainly meant for my screwed-by-transcription ears. To top that, she battled all my tabloidish questions with panache. She is no dumb girl as the ads in which features suggest. I'm not saying this because she was nice to me and said "Babu, please speak a bit louder... I can't hear you" but because she was nice to me and said "Babu, please speak a bit louder... I can't hear you".

   On Sunday afternoon, I saw Astad Deboo at NCPA. I can't dance but I admire dancers. More so, I admire Astad for all the good work he has been doing with the street kids and hearing-impaired ones. I feel he's under-appreciated given the change he has brought to modern Indian dance form by his fusion. He's as old as my dad but it's hard to believe. I liked him.

   This field of art and artistes are full of such unbelievable people whom you come to believe once you sit down for a chat. They are very much like us: flawed and humane. Sorry for being pompous but being underpaid never felt so compensated!

Birthday girl

The white flower placed over her ear

greets you even before her face does the same;

Some personalities are loud, some insane,

Many are considered few amongst the rest,

Some are overlooked nonetheless.

But she's neither of them: unique yet not subtle.

She talks with the command of an age she hasn't grown yet

— youth and life and pain and strife and truth;

In any case, you end up listening to what she has to say.

It's difficult not to pay attention when her questionnaire makes your day!

There's a mischievous laughter that echoes

despite her words not intending so.

Maybe that's the beauty of an innocent soul, 

coiled inside that cast of a tough modern girl.

The classic maternal touch is evident like a 24-hour sun

When she feeds you while you pretend to be famished,

or about to die

and even when you're not.

All you've got to do is ask and whine a bit,

her drawer never disappoints you.

Like her heart and eyes, it's always full...

Perhaps finding a friend with food is oasis personified.

Perhaps finding a good friend today is life personified.   

NB: This doggerel (if you don't wish to call it a poem) is dedicated to Avantika, a dear friend and a lovely colleague.

That founder of a foundation

I met Sudha Murthy yesterday at a book store. If you aren't aware of her yet, i not only doubt your general awareness but also your general existence. Seriously. I don't know about you but i feel that she is doing something truly meaningful with her life. No, I'm not referring to the almost three dozen enlightening books she has written so far. I'm talking about the kind of philanthropy she's involved in. She travels like anything and goes into the remotest of villages in order to help them in best possible ways—education. On top of that, she redefines that hyphenated word called down-to-earth. Simplicity comes naturally to her charming personality. I spoke to her for about 12 minutes and within that time frame, it became quite obvious that she doesn't invest in having two faces. In her case, what you see is what you get is what you deserve. And she's ridiculously rich though it's hard to believe so in her presence. The reason might be pretty simple: She doesn't portray herself THAT way or maybe she is THIS way. Like most of us, rich folks were poor once but few remember that on finding fortunes. Perhaps Mrs. Murthy is one of those very few. She effortlessly discards the invisible barrier and the mischievous gleam in her eyes conspires with an innocent yet impish smile on her face. She's a polyglot who speaks with alacrity and undeniable honesty. Maybe rich people aren't supposed to be like that. Or maybe it's my indoctrinated middle class mentality blabbering.

PS: I hope she found my questions interesting (or weird) enough to feature me in one of her stories in future.

Naam ke liye kaam!

The worst part about being a two-bit wannabe film journo is you have to keep reminding yourself that you're a two-bit wannabe film journo. Though you can choose to be sincere about your job, one of the drawbacks of being an honest journalist is not many acknowledge your integrity. Furthermore, irresponsible citizenry is forgiven but irresponsible journos aren't. In the end, it all boils down to two genuine matters: byline and money. Now, byline is a word we use for credit but nobody actually cares about it except that guy who wrote the article. To common readers, it doesn't matter who wrote what. They don't bother with the lonely name stated at the beginning or the end of the printed piece. Talking of money, there's a reason why a journalist's job involves constantly changing jobs—apart from being a journalist! Money is always THE issue with any given publication. No wonder journalism, at present, somewhat lacks the urge in resurgence and ideal journalism is nothing more than an oxymoron. Nonetheless, writing shouldn't be confused with reporting. A writer doesn't have to tell you the way things are. Some tasks are better left to journalists. Khushwant Singh knows this perfectly well as he might be older than journalism. Notwithstanding the facts, my experience as a wannabe film journo has taught me one rhyming lesson: Your views aren't necessarily the news readers can use. And coming back to my financial status, I'm a poor man's journalist who wants to die rich. But at the same time, i also realize that the trick is to avoid trading one's invisible soul for visible bylines.

The unbearable act of overlooking

Robert Pattinson is four days younger to me. But he was recently voted the Sexiest Man Alive by a British magazine for the fourth consecutive year. By doing so, he beat the likes of Shakti Shetty, Johnny Depp and Ryan Gosling to the podium. Now, I've got nothing against him. I think he's a fine vampire who got cuckolded by someone as tepid as Kristen Stewart. And just three years ago, he was seated rather uncomfortably behind Brad Pitt at the Oscar ceremony and he smirked every time the camera panned on Brangelina. Almost seems like a decade ago. Perhaps with new age comes newer kids on the Holly block followed by the newest definition of sexiness. Anyway, Western publications conveniently presume some countries don't exist at all while selecting their man (or woman). Because at any given period of time—if i commit suicide—I'd be unanimously the Sexiest Man Dead. Enough of cribbing, I'm glad at least Time magazine maintains some standards. Like last year, i was ranked 101 on their 100 Most Influential People list. 

On defending a structure

    There are three kinds of people on this planet: those who admire Aakar Patel, those who resent him and those who haven't heard of him. The fourth kind is still in the making. For the beginners, he is someone who arouses attention more than anything else. Although his views are rigid at times, they don't vacillate like most other writers' do. If Destiny had a Child from a surrogate mother named Controversy, Aakar would be him. However, he's not the bad guy here. 

    Just that he simply doesn't give a damn about being the sugarcoating good guy who is liked by all. His writings throw light on topics we care not to discuss. Or too ashamed to even talk about. He presumptively owns an excellent nose that digs out subjects of mass digression. Be it on caste, religion, riots, regional identity, music, society, entertainment or just bare philosophy. It's pretty obvious that his sole intention is to bring forth the possibility that a mainstream columnist can and should write what has to written. And while doing so, he prefers to be honest to himself first and his readers, second—if not last. No surprise this journalistic idealism doesn't always get appreciated and often backfires because being the straightforward guy that he is, he rarely sees himself as the eyes of his beholders.

    Yes, his articles sound drunk sometimes. But he punches his way through to the final round and delivers obscure inputs too. Over the years, there have been several contentions related to his columns, the most recent ones hovering over his decision to praise South India over North, not to forget that 'deplorable' article on Bollywood biggies and Sachin. Even his harmless conclusion that crowned the restless yet intellectual past of Kolkata over Mumbai's present didn't go too well with the public.

    What people don't seem to get is the fact that India and the elements that make it an undivided country are distinctly divisive. And trying to homogenize those crumbs won't serve the purpose. 65 years is a blatant proof of that approach. At the most, it will procrastinate on the uncomfortable questions that needs to be asked whereby disgusting answers will start to flow. In simpler words, he's facilitating healthy discussions on the very platform that loves to kill time with words: Internet.

    There is a spark of knowledge in this guy that masquerades as wisdom. He pretends as if he doesn't know the sort of impact his sentences have almost every weekend on the Twitter (a den prone to unnecessary outrages and trending topics). And to make matters sorrier, he doesn't even bother to be on the social media. After all, Dalai Lama and Pope tweet regularly! Aakar's not on Facebook either.

    The reason why I'm writing this piece is not to be his mouthpiece. I haven't met him yet but I've heard a lot about him. Folks in my office who have worked with him have nothing but nice stuff to say about their former editor. He was known for his vision and uprightness. I feel that the so-called literate class of India is better off with somebody like him chiding our sagacity. His insights may occasionally appear biased but then so are ours, aren't they? Just because he refuses to take a middle path and decides to accompany his intuition doesn't make him an incompetent fool. On the contrary, i think an Aakar Patel who compels others to speak out their mind for a change is a must. 

Honesty, the best policy?

   Loneliness can make a person lie, especially on the Internet. The relentless need of companionship might compel people to not only enhance their online avatar but also change their realities at least in words. The protagonist of this film does exactly the same and pays a cinematic price.  

A still from the film

   I M 24 follows a 42-year-old balding writer who is known for his honesty. Well, that was the case before he falls in love with a much younger aspiring beauty queen. To make matters worse, his friends decide to help him win her affection. The premise is pretty clear though: He’s not the guy she is looking forward to and she’s not the girl he should be looking for.

    Directed by Saurabh Shukla, this movie is bound to find resonance amongst those who spend a lot of time on social networking sites. After all, only they realise how different they are in actual life from the image they display on the web.

    The screenplay could have been much tauter had some basic loopholes been taken care of. For instance, if a stranger tells you that he composed the music of Rockstar, you’ll at least Google once to confirm no matter how ignorant you are about Bollywood. To add insult to injury, it’s happening in the big bad world of cyberspace! Also, would the societal balance be maintained if the age of the protagonists were to be interchanged? Like, if she were 42 and he, 19?

    This has to be Rajat Kapoor’s finest big screen performance till date. He simply slips into the character and doesn’t deviate an inch from his graph. Manjari Fadnis is adorable as his love interest. Ranvir Shorey fits the bill as his hyperactive best friend. And Neha Dhupia’s non-mainstream performances tend to better her mainstream ones. Forgettable songs notwithstanding, this is a one-time watch thanks to sincere acting from almost everyone present on the canvas.

'Help' yourself to it!

     A whodunnit usually doesn’t carry the burden of ethical or social lessons but this movie chooses to do the exact opposite. It begins with a bright day in the Capital but eventually ends up throwing light on the darker and narrower mindset of a well-fed society when it comes to dealing with underprivileged servants inside their spacious home. At the same time, the plot makes sure that the audience has a different perspective for a change too and involves a pair of British eyes to do the job.

A still from the film

     Set in Delhi, a rich yet dysfunctional family is preparing to welcome a foreign guest with aplomb. But within minutes, it becomes apparent that this guy has been robbed of his money. And toeing the line of Bollywood clichés, the needle of doubt points towards the domestic help. What follows is a trail of misdemeanor on one end and helplessness on the other—both connected with moments of laughter, awkwardness and ultimate closure.

     For a debutant director-writer, Prashant Nair has heralded a promising start though he could have focused more on the characters than the predictable climax itself. The reason being simple: the people in his film are flawed, real and engaging. It could have been any other city in the country but these folks shared the same Indian sentiments; unabashed hypocrisy being the most evident.

    The casting is near-perfect. At times, Lee Williams reminds you of Martin Henderson from Bride and Prejudice. Anjali Patil’s dusky features coupled with an elusive performance as a maid steals the show. However, it is Lillete Dubey and Kulbhushan Kharbanda who convincingly exhibit the charm of a disgruntled couple. Victor Banerjee is present as well as absent on the screen.

     In a nutshell, this is the kind of story that needs to be told as its moral echoes today in every Indian household that employs a servant.

Yes Saar, K?

Not that anyone is complaining but I haven’t updated my lousy blog in quite a long time. The reason behind this era-distorting act lies in my changing of priorities. In other words, I’ve got priorities now. Like beauty queens from India who think becoming a Hindi actress will save the world, I too am an entertainment journo now. Sorry, I forgot to add the word ‘wannabe’ in my previous sentence. But for all it’s worth, I’m busy chasing Bollywoodians nowadays and I’ve somehow convinced myself that this will ultimately save the world.

So far, so rude? Well, not exactly.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve been meeting people from B-Town and I’ve got to admit I’m amazed and perplexed at the same time. Amazed by some big stars’ down-to-earthness and perplexed by some not-so-big-stars’ defiance of gravity. For instance, I met King Khan last week and passive-smoked three cigarettes within 16 minutes. I didn’t mind it since he came across as someone who knows what he’s talking about and answered all my queries. He was sharp, philosophical, witty and seemed very well-read. And by well-read, I mean he appeared to have read my conjectural article that got published in January!

I met other Bolly A-listers too but it’d be better if I don’t disclose them now. Maybe I should wait until I figure out where exactly to use ‘wannabe’ in a sentence.

The ball is stuck in Bolly's court

Hindi film industry never ceases to surprise us. While at some point we feel that it has moved ahead with leaps and bounds, at certain other points it feels like it is rapidly regressing. We have some wish list for Bollywood to help it squirm out of the shackles of ghisa pita formulae and take some risky steps forward…

NURTURE INDIE ATTEMPTS: Throughout the calendar year, we barely notice any independent work hitting the theatre. This situation can change if big movie banners throw their weight behind these small-budget filmmakers without interfering much in the creative process.

GO RURAL: Since the majority of India resides in villages, Hindi cinema can always tap this part of the country for stories. A fully rural- based work like Lagaan, Hazaaron Khwaishein Aisi, Swades, Welcome to Sajjanpur, I am Kalam happens far and between. With Peepli Live, Aamir Khan proved that marketing skills makes all the difference at the Box Office.

DESI ANIMATION SOMEONE?: A majority of the animation we consider worth watching are imported from Hollywood studios. The reason behind this trend is pretty naïve: Our industry can’t match their standards nor wish to catch up with them. Intriguingly, Japan’s anime industry doesn’t ape the West in this regard as they created a niche for themselves with indigenous work like Ponyo, Spirited Away and Akira.

WHERE ARE THE DOCUS?: We have issues. Lots of them in fact. The reality is that there are documentary- makers out there whose work never hit the theatre due to absence of financial backing. This is precisely where Bollywood stars can step in. They can take a leaf from Leonardo DiCaprio who produced and narrated The 11th Hour. George Clooney did the same with Sand and Sorrow. Matt Damon asked all the grinding questions in the muchacclaimed The Inside Job.

BACK TO BLACK AND WHITE: We aren’t tired of colours but what’s the harm in churning out reels in monochrome or sepia for a change? The world cinema, if not just Hollywood, have done exceptionally well by reliving the good old charm. To boost this argument, flicks like The White Ribbon, Sin City, Good Night, and Good Luck and most recently, The Artist, were appreciated.

SAY AYE TO GAY: In the last few years, there have been commendable attempts by some filmmakers to bring homosexual characters to the forefront of screenplay. This trend is worth encouraging. So superstars, drop your inhibitions and say yes to a gay role.

RECLAIM THE ERA OF SILENCE: Silent cinema was considered to be passé. Until The Artist took place. With the kind of reviews it is earning and the number of awards it’s picking up, one can safely say that perhaps we need to think twice before calling this genre passé. If our memory serves us well, Pushpak ( starring Kamal Hassan) set the tone right for modern silent movies in India but unfortunately nobody followed the trail. Maybe it’s time.

WORK IN PROGRESS: Western cinema adheres to a concept yet adopted by ours — suggestions from peers during production phase. The producers there conduct trial shows the movies they’re working to get a better perspective from experts. Why not take off blinkers and ask an outsider’s honest point of view before release?

Bollywood could reach greater heights if only it stepped out of its safe cocoon more often. Everything said and done, as beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder, cinema too lies in the eyes of the viewer. Ideally, Bollywood will surprise us. Hopefully, Bollywood won't disappoint us.

PS: MiD DAY puts the on in office when it publishes a hypothetical article such as this.

Biography se bioscope tak

It’s an ongoing trend in Hollywood to make biographical films. A Beautiful Mind, Alexander, The Aviator, The Queen, Frost/ Nixon, The King’s Speech, 127 Hours, Moneyball, J. Edgar and The Iron Lady are some recent examples. Bollywood hasn’t replicated this fad. Yet.

Interestingly, India’s first feature film Raja Harishchandra was a biopic. But the Hindi film industry continues to shy away from this genre for commercial reasons. Audience’s lack of zest for history is also to be blamed. Asoka, Rang De Basanti, Mangal Pandey — The Rising, Jodhaa Akbar, Guru, Bose: The Forgotten Hero and No One Killed Jessica were a handful of brave aberrations.

There is certainly no dearth of characters from our history to inspire film writers.

Here are some personalities who could inspire an interesting watch and the actors who might do justice to their role.

Sardar Patel (Aamir Khan): For a man who drew our map as we know it today, we barely know anything about him. After all, he was not called the Iron Man for nothing.

Dara Shikoh (Ranbir Kapoor): He was the rightful heir to Shah Jahan’s throne and a cheerful hedonist but a political fool. A Sufi liberal whose advocacy of Hindu- Muslim unity proved to be his undoing.

Sanjay Gandhi (Saif Ali Khan): Not only a Nehru scion and an apparent heir to the political dynasty, he was also someone who was a rebel and was drawn towards commotion. His magnetic demeanour mixed with hyperactivity and an eventual premature death makes his life quite cinematic.

The Emergency (Multiple Cast): A proper mainstream film on the 21- month long blemish on the face of Indian democracy is prone to drama… and dramatic characters.

Premchand (Irrfan Khan): The discoverer of the soul in rural India — the unsung Tolstoy of India. He influenced both Hindi as well as Urdu prose. Fortunately, we are aware of his beautiful stories. Unfortunately, we aren’t aware of his story.

Jyotirao-Savitribai Phule (Pavan Malhotra-Shahana Goswami) This Maharashtrian couple with their modern mindset faced huge opposition from the society but made long strides in the field of education and the upliftment of women and untouchables. Jyotirao was labelled the Mahatma long before Gandhiji and Savitribai set up India’s first female school.

Dhyan Chand (Shah Rukh Khan): The very symbol of Indian sportsmanship and the undisputed wizard of our national sport. His successful legacy stays surprisingly humble. He is party to awe- inspiring anecdotes that involve Bradman as well as Hitler.

Swami Vivekanand (R Madhavan): He died young, leaving behind a legacy of spirituality and the idea of a global Indian. The monk who made the West buy the eternal philosophy of Upanishads ought to make a wonderful script.

Bahadur Shah Zafar (Victor Banerjee): The last emperor of India and his melancholic final days in the country before being deported to Burma merits attention — not to mention his mental vagaries and poetic indulgences.

Budhia Singh (Irfan Khan of Chillar Party): The world’s youngest marathon runner who made the media wonder whether he was a victim of torture. They’ve already made a documentary on him. A movie would be going a mile further.

PT Usha (Poorna Jagannathan): Her journey towards becoming the fastest Indian woman wasn’t an easy one. Coming from a humble village, her life story has what it takes to make an enthralling sports flick.

JRD Tata (Naseeruddin Shah): A humane capitalist who provided a better meaning to the word enterprise in free India. Though we are familiar with the brand Tata, we don’t have much clue about his life.

Birbal (Kay Kay Menon): Arguably the wittiest person from the Mughal era. Apart from his brainy exploits in Akbar’s court, very little is known of him. This allows the writers to complement fiction with legends.

(NB: This over-imaginative article appeared on MiD DAY's Hitlist today.)