Upward spiral

Jack Daniel's completed 150 years of existence and for the first time ever, they admitted that the original recipe of their whiskey came from a slave that Mr. Daniel owned. This revelation is just another thread one can hold on to for showing how dominant racism was once upon a time. It’s unimaginable to see a white person sharing a platform with a non-white. Remember, it’s always Sir Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay—not the other way round. But i’ve got a bigger grudge to grind here. I think the world, be it any given era, relied on the lower section of the society for the cool stuff without giving the due credit. The finest form of music came from the poor and so did the language and art. The only difference being the rich and the privileged lot somehow hold the trump to declare what is cool and what ain’t. This has been going on for ages. The so-called upper caste, be it in Europe or Asia, did two things: accepted whatever they liked and owned whatever they could make of it. The flow has been upward for the most part. Which might explain why two decades ago, the Hindi gaalis were hush-hush but today, punctuating sentences with MC and BC is a unit of cool quotient. 

Critically devotional

The correct reply to “Do you believe in God?” has to be “I believe in stories with nice endings.” On a personal front, i believe in songs where God is addressed directly. No priest, thank you. The words expressed are quite bold. Furthermore, they sound like a chat you weren’t supposed to eavesdrop on. 

• Like Tina Sani’s Mori Araj Suno where she threatens God with dire consequences if he doesn’t heed her request: she’ll go and find another God to worship! You don’t take threats in Punjabi lightly. 
• The passion is similar but the tone is mellowed down when MS Subbulaxmi sings Kurai Ondrum Illai with sentiments that border on defeatism as well as gratitude. She appears to be informing her Creator that she has no more grief and she’s finally in a place where she isn’t afraid of dealing with sorrow. Simply put, she doesn’t care anymore. Of course, this is one interpretation as there can be hundreds to poetry. 
• There’s a Marathi song where Ganaraya (Lord Ganesha) is pleasantly chided for his shyness. It’s almost like the devotee is making fun of his God for being too coy to appear in front of him. Sarcasm at its divine best! 
• A Kannada song, Sada Enna Hrudayadalli, pleads to God to make the singer’s heart his permanent abode. This song is my ma’s favourite and the innocence in its lyrics makes you want to accept the sweet marriage between religion and drama. 
• When Lata Mangeshkar croons Ae Maalik Tere Bande Hum, she is basically building a case against God for his apparent injustice. Similarly, Itni Shakti Humein Dena Daata appeals to human strength of character which for some reason depends on God’s belief in us. 
• There are very few singers around with a hotline to God the way Abida Parveen does. And her criticism of God in “Tune kya kya na banaya, koi kya kya na bana... ab mujhe hosh ki duniya mein tamasha na bana” is as subtle as it can musically get. 

Filmi nostalgia

If i'd continued being a film journalist, i'd have been very close to completing half a decade in journalism. Well, that ship has sailed but there are days when i miss being part of the media. Although the pay sucked, the narcissism that followed a byline or the esteem of a press card were unmatchable. You can't go around telling people that you wrote a line/slogan for a corporate company because it doesn't carry your name. That ain't the case when you write a 500 worder for the city tabloid. Also, when you are a film journalist, you get to watch a lot of movies. Most of them are indeed shitty and you watch them just for the sake of writing reviews. But there are times when you feel privileged. Like when you could boast that you were one of the first people in the country to watch Christopher Nolan's Inception. Oh, the press shows! I wasn't a fan of the samosa-chai/samosa-cola addendum as long as the show took place on time. I just loved watching films on the big screen. The way a movie is supposed to be watched. So, yeah, i miss that bit. However, the part i miss the most is how there were no kids wailing during a press show and nobody's phone rang. Ever. 

Writer's unblock

I'm going through that phase where i don't have a clue what's going on. No, i'm neither talking about Brexit nor that jaguar who got killed by Olympics. I'm talking about lack of concentration and probably, writer's block. I must admit that i've always been scared of blank pages. I might have a thousand ideas in my head but i don't remember a time in my life when i didn't go nervous sitting in front of a blank page. It happened during school days. It happened during polytechnic days. It sure happened during college days (no wonder i dropped out). It happened during transcription days. It happened during journalism days. It's happening, again, nowadays. To be frank, the whole affair is a dissolving emotion. You look at this bully of emptiness and you're scared that it will consume you. The only way to defeat it is by punching in the keys but you don't want to rush either. You might end up with rubbish work. So you take it slow. One sentence at a time. And before you know it, you've wasted an hour writing less than five lines. Yes, that's what it has come down to. At this rate, i won't be able to start/finish that once-in-a-lifetime-novel i've been mulling over for over a decade now. The whole situation sucks. However, i've got a remedy for now: i close my eyes and imagine myself in a prison filled with dangerous people; hardened criminals whose boners can't wait to own my ass and i'm there all (over)tattooed sitting in the centre in front of a blank page diverting my focus to filling it up with words. 

When i open my eyes, i write like magic. 

Chhoti soch, bada Rajan

The problem with inspirational people like Raghuram Rajan prematurely quitting their position is there aren't many of his likes in our country. It's not everyday you come across public servants that are universally acknowledged as the finest in their respective field. Which is sad because these personalities are known for their work ethics and they mean good. What's sadder is Indian politics somehow always wins against diligence and gumption. One can argue that commoners like myself don't have the depth to understand economics and there are better people up for the job. I hope that is the case. We all know how the last government wasted a decade. We all can see how the chief minister in the capital went from an admirable IRS to an excuse-mongering mockery. We can also see how this government is goofing up big time with its senseless appointments and dismissals. It's not a joke for a central banker to be disrupted the way Rajan was. After all, India is going to pay the price at the end for these mistakes, if any. 

They can't steal your jokes!

Vivek reached home one night to find that his room was ransacked. The cupboard door was flung open with some clothes hanging on to the shelves while others piled up, feeling the floor. Books were scattered here and there. The drawers weren't where they were supposed to be. Also, they were upside down as if hiding something from Vivek. When he lifted the wooden thingie up, there was nothing underneath them. Surprisingly, the only thing orderly was the window as it was tightly shut. Whoever visited the room before him was thorough with their search but didn't have the decency to tidy up the room before leaving. Well, then, robbers are popular for lacking the most basic of etiquettes. They had taken away his jeans, recently bought shirts, shades, runnings shoes, two external hard disks, a trek backpack, camera—among other loot. When something like this happens to you, your first resort isn't humour. Laughing about a hapless event happens after a month or so; not the very next day. But then, Vivek ain't your regular guy. He somehow found the courage to find a funny sub-plot. Apparently, after going through his room and the disdainful condition it was in, he felt a bit dizzy and went for water. Guess what? There was no water in the house. The robbers emptied the 25 ltr water can. "They were either very thirsty or thought of bathing with bottled water," was his apt conclusion. 

Bend it like Messi

Messi scored this magical free kick last morning and was trending on Twitter for the same. If you follow football, you're already aware of his superlation but there is something about him that's beyond the cheap thrills of bragging rights commonly associated with sports. For instance, he is quite literally short who makes up for his height with his mind and pace. As you can see above, the wall consists of much taller footballers (all exceeding 6 feet) jumping higher to contain the overhead ball. Regardless, the ball just ricochets into the top right corner as if it's following a holy command by Messi's left foot. I remember as a kid how Ronaldinho single-footedly destroyed Seamen's career by bending that ball in. I also remember Beckham saying that goal was a fluke. I don't think it was. Some footballers (like Beckham himself must know) have something special going on for them. They perform impossible feats, leaving mere mortals like us to find ways to create GIFs out of YouTube videos for the first time.