I remember the time when i saw Dhoom 2 and Hrithik and Ash play the "gorgilicous" team of baddies in it. As the suave baddie Mr. A, Roshan Jr. does all things a hero is supposed to do - sing, dance, lip lock and get a happy ending. He also gets ample scope to reveal his toned and tanned body. In one scene of the movie, where the Jr. B and Jr. R get involved in the quintessential good vs evil fist fight, the girl accompanying me to the movie screamed out "Kill him Hrithik!" That blurred the line for hero vs villain for me totally.
Agreed, that The King Khan himself had played the baddie in a spate of mid 90s hits. But remember what happened to those characters? They stammered, they got beaten up and they eventually died. A very different scenario from the new Dhoom and Don movies I'd say where the bad guy walks off with the loot and lot. That's when I figured that Abhishek, with his leather jacket and rugged countenance, could never kill the baddie. Coz the baddy had died years ago. Yes, ladies and gentleman, whether you accept it or not, the Hindi movie bad guy has died a silent death and it's time I pay my homage.
I've been adding a dose of Hindi movies to my diet since the age of eight. I grew up watching the likes of Amjad Khan, Amrish Puri, Shakti Kapoor and Sadashiv Amrapurkar. Things were so different then. Like Ranjeet. If he was there he would try to molest a girl and if he would try to molest a girl he would get the crap beaten out of him by the hero. Ranjeet was in some ways the predecessor of Dhoom's Mr. A. I guess he somehow convinced his producers to give him a chance to flaunt his muscular body. Ranjeet always had a few buttons of his shirt open and when he tried to molest the gori in a gory moment, he would open a few more buttons. Too bad he didn't get a chance to sing and dance ala Mr. A. I miss you Ranjeet uncle.
Then there was Shetty. Aah, what a character he was. My mother, who's a phenomenal resource on B tier characters of A tier movies, gave me so much information on the subject. If Dharmendra was in the movie, Shetty had to be there too. And if Shetty was in the movie, then he had to be killed by getting hit with an iron object (varying from rods, to chains, to drums ...) on the head. Years before the Shilpas and Sunils brought the Shetty name movie fame, this bald and dutiful villain had done his part quietly (literally, coz he hardly ever spoke any words) in many a hit. We will always miss him.
The villains in eighties and even the early nineties had another trait. They had an evil family and friend circle as well. These days the few villains we have are too much in love with hogging abundant screen time (of the little time they get, that is). The old school villains were all family men. In my early visits to the cinemas, nothing thrilled me as much as an evil Kader Khan tormenting a village that had Jitendra as an "officer" (I loved how he never had a designation other than being officer sahaab) having equally evil conversations with his evil but dumb scion Shakti Kapur and the dedicated munimji Asrani. There was always a moment when Shakti Kapur tried to mimic the same moves on the heroine that Jitendra tried (oh, some moves they were) and would get beaten up black and two shades of blue in the process. That would lead to Kader Khan sending his "men with sticks" to pick up the girl, her blind father, polio struck brother and a motley of other characters from the village of Stereotypepur. Innovative torture techniques like hanging the brother upside down and the getting the heroine to dance under a home made waterfall were then employed. And then there was the icing moment, just before the officer sahab's entry, where Kader Khan would try to force the heroine to marry Shakti Kapoor. Oh where have those movies gone Dinu Chacha?
Sadashiv Amprapurkar was a "family villain" too (unless we are talking of Sadak). However bad Mr. Amprapurkar was he always allowed his college going son to do whatever he wanted (it was sad that all the son wanted to do was to tease girls sitting on his motorbike). There are countless movies where the son is the one that brings the hero and villain against each other. That's what would then bring the "home minister" into the equation too. Oh, where have those movies gone?And if there is one thing that I miss most abt the villains of yesteryears - it's their names. When did we start naming our bad guys Raj, Rahul and Aryan (aka Mr. A). What happened to Gabbar, Mogambo, Dang, Dong, Raka, Zabisco, Zulmi Singh and the likes? What happened to their trademark gestures. Be it Gabbar's tobacco chewing laughter, or Mogambo getting khush, or Gulshan Grover adding a "bad man" at the end of every sentence. Why did we kill these characters? Is it just me or does anybody else feel sad when they see Gulshan Grover playing the honest brother in a movie now? Come on! That guy used to be every brothers nightmare. What have we done to him??
So this is my appeal to all you kind readers. Bring back the baddies. Bring them back with captions like "badder and better than ever before". Coz we all know, that as cool and suave Roshan junior might be - he can never pull of a "Arre o samba, kitney admi thhe?".
P.S. I'm almost tempted to make the next post a list of 20 ultimate Hindi movie villain cliches. Lesse.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Monday, August 20, 2007
Tales of the idiot & the idiot box
I wrote this pretty interesting email to a friend and the idea of this post came to my mind and I just had to get it down before I forgot it. So here it goes ...
Sundays are very different for me right now. I try to keep my Sundays free. Fridays and Saturdays normally involve a fair bit of staying up and driving. So Sundays are lazing days. I normally indulge in an afternoon nap. Maybe go for an early movie. Do my laundry in the evening. Call up home ... Sundays, now, also give me the "Tomorrow there's work" feeling. All in all Sundays now are characterized more by stray errands than anything momentous. But things used to be very different as kids. And as I thought through Sundays from the past and their meanings across multiple time frames - it struck me how big a role TV had during my growing up days!!!I was very young then. Maybe ten. Maybe twelve. Maybe nine. Young enough to not remember too well what age I was.
At that time Sundays were "Hindi movies in the evening days." Every Sunday Doordarshan would show some Hindi movie in the evening. Those were simpler times. There was no cable. There were no reality shows. We didn't even have Rakhi Sawant hogging news coverage all the time. All we had on Sundays were the movies in the evening. I remember that I used to open the morning newspaper with phenomenal anticipation to find out what movie they were screening that evening. I would then run to my mom with a curious face. "Maa, they have some movie called Professor starring Shammi Kapoor. Is it any good?" The suspense used to be tremendous, as mom would pass a judgement on the movie and that meant a lot to me. Occasionally she would praise a movie and give me some additional trivia (I remember she did that for Madhubala movies). And then there were days when she would deem a movie completely unfit for my childlike innocence (I remember she did that for Ek Phool Do Mali). That would mean another week of waiting and I'd blast the Doordarshan honchos for spoiling my Sunday evenings.
I remember Sundays also had a regional language movie in the afternoon. The one that followed immediately after the news for the hearing impaired. But those movies had no charm for me. Coz the only regional language I spoke was Punjabi and all the Punjabi movies they ever screened in that slot were very depressing with famines and an unattractive woman always playing a central role :( So yes, Sundays then were only "Hindi movie in the evening days"!!
By the time I became fourteen, Sundays had changed a lot. VCRs had penetrated into mainstream India and watching movies on Doordarshan was loosing its charm. But the Sundays reacted well to this change. We had entered the 9-10 Ramayan/Mahabharat era. Life would reach a standstill as the entire nation came together on Sunday mornings to re-live the countries biggest epics. I used to have lunch at 1 in the afternoon those days and my Mom was kind enough to allow some lunch time TV watching too. So Indradhanush and Space City Sigma were hot topics for Sunday afternoons. Occasionally when Mom was a little more lenient, I would slip in an episode of Stone Boy too (does anybody else remember that show?). So effectively the Sunday TV extravaganza had moved from an evening affair to a morning/afternoon affair.
A few more years passed by. I was a little older then and considered the then Sunday craze Jungle Book kinda lame. I was probably the only one in the country who found the song "chaddi pehen ke phool khila hai" obnoxious. So while everybody raved abt the show, I kept it away from my morning staple. The other craze then was Ducktales, another children's favorite. But let's face it, by then I was too old for animated ducks without clothes below their waist!!! My favorite Sunday attraction had once again moved to the night time slot. It was a show that in many ways changed Indian television by introducing us to the notion of countdowns - the one that started it all - Superhit Muqabla. Yyup! I watched that show and am not ashamed to admit that I even participated in one of their competitions (if you care for more details then lemme tell you that I had voted Romeo Naam Hai Mera from Roop Ki Rani Choron Ka Raja as my song of the week). With a host of erstwhile forgotten personalities like Baba Sehgal at its helm, the show found super success and I was part of the audience that waited all week long to find out who would reach "Hall of Fame" next weekend.
As I said in the beginning - Sundays are so different now. No TV whatsoever. Occasionally a movie. A lot of reminiscing though and that's what I did with this post. Whatever !!!
Sundays are very different for me right now. I try to keep my Sundays free. Fridays and Saturdays normally involve a fair bit of staying up and driving. So Sundays are lazing days. I normally indulge in an afternoon nap. Maybe go for an early movie. Do my laundry in the evening. Call up home ... Sundays, now, also give me the "Tomorrow there's work" feeling. All in all Sundays now are characterized more by stray errands than anything momentous. But things used to be very different as kids. And as I thought through Sundays from the past and their meanings across multiple time frames - it struck me how big a role TV had during my growing up days!!!I was very young then. Maybe ten. Maybe twelve. Maybe nine. Young enough to not remember too well what age I was.
At that time Sundays were "Hindi movies in the evening days." Every Sunday Doordarshan would show some Hindi movie in the evening. Those were simpler times. There was no cable. There were no reality shows. We didn't even have Rakhi Sawant hogging news coverage all the time. All we had on Sundays were the movies in the evening. I remember that I used to open the morning newspaper with phenomenal anticipation to find out what movie they were screening that evening. I would then run to my mom with a curious face. "Maa, they have some movie called Professor starring Shammi Kapoor. Is it any good?" The suspense used to be tremendous, as mom would pass a judgement on the movie and that meant a lot to me. Occasionally she would praise a movie and give me some additional trivia (I remember she did that for Madhubala movies). And then there were days when she would deem a movie completely unfit for my childlike innocence (I remember she did that for Ek Phool Do Mali). That would mean another week of waiting and I'd blast the Doordarshan honchos for spoiling my Sunday evenings.
I remember Sundays also had a regional language movie in the afternoon. The one that followed immediately after the news for the hearing impaired. But those movies had no charm for me. Coz the only regional language I spoke was Punjabi and all the Punjabi movies they ever screened in that slot were very depressing with famines and an unattractive woman always playing a central role :( So yes, Sundays then were only "Hindi movie in the evening days"!!
By the time I became fourteen, Sundays had changed a lot. VCRs had penetrated into mainstream India and watching movies on Doordarshan was loosing its charm. But the Sundays reacted well to this change. We had entered the 9-10 Ramayan/Mahabharat era. Life would reach a standstill as the entire nation came together on Sunday mornings to re-live the countries biggest epics. I used to have lunch at 1 in the afternoon those days and my Mom was kind enough to allow some lunch time TV watching too. So Indradhanush and Space City Sigma were hot topics for Sunday afternoons. Occasionally when Mom was a little more lenient, I would slip in an episode of Stone Boy too (does anybody else remember that show?). So effectively the Sunday TV extravaganza had moved from an evening affair to a morning/afternoon affair.
A few more years passed by. I was a little older then and considered the then Sunday craze Jungle Book kinda lame. I was probably the only one in the country who found the song "chaddi pehen ke phool khila hai" obnoxious. So while everybody raved abt the show, I kept it away from my morning staple. The other craze then was Ducktales, another children's favorite. But let's face it, by then I was too old for animated ducks without clothes below their waist!!! My favorite Sunday attraction had once again moved to the night time slot. It was a show that in many ways changed Indian television by introducing us to the notion of countdowns - the one that started it all - Superhit Muqabla. Yyup! I watched that show and am not ashamed to admit that I even participated in one of their competitions (if you care for more details then lemme tell you that I had voted Romeo Naam Hai Mera from Roop Ki Rani Choron Ka Raja as my song of the week). With a host of erstwhile forgotten personalities like Baba Sehgal at its helm, the show found super success and I was part of the audience that waited all week long to find out who would reach "Hall of Fame" next weekend.
As I said in the beginning - Sundays are so different now. No TV whatsoever. Occasionally a movie. A lot of reminiscing though and that's what I did with this post. Whatever !!!
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Dance with me baby ... won't you dance with me tonight ...
Another visit to a night club.....No big deal to write about all the familiar sights. Only this time, the event was an exclusive Indian music one and hence the sights were radically different. And no, I'm not saying that because the DJ, after a round of expletives and "Are u ready for some rocking music" roars, finally unleashed a Himesh crooning. That was hardly what made the night in an Indian flavoured party different. It was the characters who flooded the dance floor that made the Indian flavor of the night stand out and boy did they entertain me. And this was the second time in succession that I noticed this. You spot them once, they are probably an anomaly. You spot them twice and I smell a trend. So here's to them and here's to them ...
1. Twenty's a crowd.
Those who thought three's a crowd, think again. People from my generation who learnt about singular and plural from the DD spot of "ek anek" would love to see anek single Indian men in groups in these parties. Now don't get me wrong. All night clubs have single people. For some that is the whole reason for hitting the clubs. Get one and get some - that's there hope. For that they come armoured with button opened shirts, an over dose of cologne, money to buy drinks to all and sundry and a shiny pack of protection. Sometimes, the quintessential wingman accompanies them too. But in desi parties the scene is very very different. We are no longer talking of A wingMAN, we are talking abt a freakin army of wings. A group of twenty single men???? What were they planning, an orgy fest?? And boy do they dance. Groups of men assume roles of women and play the female fiddle to the beats as the remaining men churn out manly moves. Then then pause, laugh, elbow each other, nudge and point out women who had dared to show a little more skin than others and then swap roles of men and women and continue their dance routines. Seriously, if you have no idea how scary this image might be, imagine this with me - ten men playing Madhuri Dikshit, as a remixed version of Chaney Ki Khet Mein blasts. Bad enough for you? No. Well then imagine three shirt opened heavily moustached, libido oozing Indian naujawan playing Helen and sizzling to Piya Tu Ab to Aaa Jaaa. Duh! Why do you think Piya is nowhere to be found. Grrrrrr!!
2. The Desi Dude.
It's all about contrasts. After the anek lets shift the focus back to the ek. Singleton rules. There are some self proclaimed dudes in the desi parties who were major studs in their hometown of Bhulbhulaiya. The same guy who had perverted uncles repeatedly pressing his cheeks in family gatherings with lines like "Arrey, he looks just like a young Dharmenderrr". So Dharmenderr grew up believing all Hemas are waiting for him round the corner but never reaffirmed his claims. The same guy who always thought he has all female attention focused on him but never actually spoke to a girl. He normally has a look; a look that he thinks does best to his chiseled profile. That with the gel. That with the shirt tucked in carefully only on one side. That with the collar raised. Seriously, the guy wearing the obnoxious green shirt, i remember from one of the night do's - if you are reading this (which I doubt because reading this would involve, errrr, reading), you have no idea how many times I had the urge to just go and pull down his collar, especially because he looked extremely uncomfortable in it, tilting his head at a strange angle to avoid the collar from acting as a capillary tube to his dripping sweat. Yanyways, I digress. So there are these dudes who position themselves in various parts of the club, buy the one drink for the night and just stand and there and sip it. I like that abt them. They do not make moves. They are not there to pick up women. They just stand and look at women and give a nod stating "I know you think I am hot". Then they turn towards the towering mirror and go through the checklist - collar - up, chiselled Zoolander look - there, twisted neck angle - there and return to identifying unsaid fans from the audience.
3. Uncle and Aunty - ahoy.
Please. Please. Please. And in case that aint enough for you - a fourth pretty please. Can you please stop wearing sarees to night clubs. The saree is less sorry if it is an Indian Mela. It is ok if it's Patel Bhai's daughter's birthday and you want to look all traditional. But wearing a saree (and no, not the chic ones but more like a bridal one) to an event where the DJ is called Percussion is just WrOnG with a capital W O and G. I mean there were some young ones dancing that night who made me feel old but then when I spotted the throng of uncle jis and aunty jis doing the jhatkas and the matkas, I felt like a toddler and almost felt guilty being in a club instead of getting my ass rested at home for the weekend. Seriously did you have to take the ChaCha part of One Two Cha Cha Cha literally. Also, I would like to add to this list the newly wed wives who HAVE to wear a salwar with way too many bangles adorning them to prove their nouveau married status. I mean come on, I am happy that you found someone to dance to your tunes but do you really have to make that statement when dancing to somebody else's tunes (or is it beats)??
And then there were so many more. The one solitary guy who hasn't learnt a move since Mithun rocked with I am a Disco Dancer. He is always there. Churning out one 80s move followed by another. Then there are those first time visitors to a night club who have heard fancy tales of how clubs are great places to get laid. That's their game plan. They just think they'll come and get laid. They come with so many stories they've heard from friends (who returned back to their home town) and during the course of the night their expressions change from that of lust to boredom. They even raise their collar as a final measure of desperation but alas nothing helps. I can write on for a while or maybe I can't and just want to use this as a way to end this post. Whatever it is - I have written a long post and well deserved Friday night slumber awaits me :) So bye... But keep watching this space for more :-))
1. Twenty's a crowd.
Those who thought three's a crowd, think again. People from my generation who learnt about singular and plural from the DD spot of "ek anek" would love to see anek single Indian men in groups in these parties. Now don't get me wrong. All night clubs have single people. For some that is the whole reason for hitting the clubs. Get one and get some - that's there hope. For that they come armoured with button opened shirts, an over dose of cologne, money to buy drinks to all and sundry and a shiny pack of protection. Sometimes, the quintessential wingman accompanies them too. But in desi parties the scene is very very different. We are no longer talking of A wingMAN, we are talking abt a freakin army of wings. A group of twenty single men???? What were they planning, an orgy fest?? And boy do they dance. Groups of men assume roles of women and play the female fiddle to the beats as the remaining men churn out manly moves. Then then pause, laugh, elbow each other, nudge and point out women who had dared to show a little more skin than others and then swap roles of men and women and continue their dance routines. Seriously, if you have no idea how scary this image might be, imagine this with me - ten men playing Madhuri Dikshit, as a remixed version of Chaney Ki Khet Mein blasts. Bad enough for you? No. Well then imagine three shirt opened heavily moustached, libido oozing Indian naujawan playing Helen and sizzling to Piya Tu Ab to Aaa Jaaa. Duh! Why do you think Piya is nowhere to be found. Grrrrrr!!
2. The Desi Dude.
It's all about contrasts. After the anek lets shift the focus back to the ek. Singleton rules. There are some self proclaimed dudes in the desi parties who were major studs in their hometown of Bhulbhulaiya. The same guy who had perverted uncles repeatedly pressing his cheeks in family gatherings with lines like "Arrey, he looks just like a young Dharmenderrr". So Dharmenderr grew up believing all Hemas are waiting for him round the corner but never reaffirmed his claims. The same guy who always thought he has all female attention focused on him but never actually spoke to a girl. He normally has a look; a look that he thinks does best to his chiseled profile. That with the gel. That with the shirt tucked in carefully only on one side. That with the collar raised. Seriously, the guy wearing the obnoxious green shirt, i remember from one of the night do's - if you are reading this (which I doubt because reading this would involve, errrr, reading), you have no idea how many times I had the urge to just go and pull down his collar, especially because he looked extremely uncomfortable in it, tilting his head at a strange angle to avoid the collar from acting as a capillary tube to his dripping sweat. Yanyways, I digress. So there are these dudes who position themselves in various parts of the club, buy the one drink for the night and just stand and there and sip it. I like that abt them. They do not make moves. They are not there to pick up women. They just stand and look at women and give a nod stating "I know you think I am hot". Then they turn towards the towering mirror and go through the checklist - collar - up, chiselled Zoolander look - there, twisted neck angle - there and return to identifying unsaid fans from the audience.
3. Uncle and Aunty - ahoy.
Please. Please. Please. And in case that aint enough for you - a fourth pretty please. Can you please stop wearing sarees to night clubs. The saree is less sorry if it is an Indian Mela. It is ok if it's Patel Bhai's daughter's birthday and you want to look all traditional. But wearing a saree (and no, not the chic ones but more like a bridal one) to an event where the DJ is called Percussion is just WrOnG with a capital W O and G. I mean there were some young ones dancing that night who made me feel old but then when I spotted the throng of uncle jis and aunty jis doing the jhatkas and the matkas, I felt like a toddler and almost felt guilty being in a club instead of getting my ass rested at home for the weekend. Seriously did you have to take the ChaCha part of One Two Cha Cha Cha literally. Also, I would like to add to this list the newly wed wives who HAVE to wear a salwar with way too many bangles adorning them to prove their nouveau married status. I mean come on, I am happy that you found someone to dance to your tunes but do you really have to make that statement when dancing to somebody else's tunes (or is it beats)??
And then there were so many more. The one solitary guy who hasn't learnt a move since Mithun rocked with I am a Disco Dancer. He is always there. Churning out one 80s move followed by another. Then there are those first time visitors to a night club who have heard fancy tales of how clubs are great places to get laid. That's their game plan. They just think they'll come and get laid. They come with so many stories they've heard from friends (who returned back to their home town) and during the course of the night their expressions change from that of lust to boredom. They even raise their collar as a final measure of desperation but alas nothing helps. I can write on for a while or maybe I can't and just want to use this as a way to end this post. Whatever it is - I have written a long post and well deserved Friday night slumber awaits me :) So bye... But keep watching this space for more :-))
Thursday, August 9, 2007
Remembering an old friend.... Probably my first in life
Mr Singh ( Keeping the name anonymous... lets just call him Mr Singh) was a supernumerary of weirdness, tantamount to the most abnoxious nightmare. The first time I laid eyes on this creature with ursine bearings and vapid, dreamy eyes, i knew that we would never be friends, never ever. As fate would have it we became best friends. I learnt 2 things that day, All sardars are not stupid. Mr Singh was a virtuoso with words, a genius, who blew a zephyr of positivity into my life, he was my reality check, and i think I was his..and we both came out good huh? he wid academic vicissitude and me with a new look. His company was therapeutic and fun. So all in all a great friend who stood by me, a self anointed genius, really gullible(he'll believe anything), a diehard junk foodie, Punk to the core (god knows why) and a conoiser of funky clothes & accesories ,and ofcourse a complete wierdo. I cherish the moments we spent jogging, checking out babes, and getting raped by education....Its ages we lost touch with each other... sometimes i feel like getting back to those days.... enuff of nostalgia.... coming back to the present.....before i wind up,the other thing I learnt that fateful day.... its expensive being a sardar, think all that shampoo!!
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
A Peek into an Experience
As i look back today, the last month or so has been an eye opener....i mean things seldom went the way i wanted them to go....I guess I could be pretty pissed off about what happened to me... but now when i am in a sub dued mood, i realise that it's hard to stay mad, when there's so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing it all at once, and it's too much, my heart fills up like a balloon that's about to burst... And then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain and I can't feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my life...You have no idea what I'm talking about, I'm sure. But don't worry... you will someday !! :-))
Thursday, August 2, 2007
I, Me & Myself
Ever heard of opium...
There's often a silence that separates...
the seen & the unseen...
the heard & the unheard...
the pragmatic & the unpragmatic...
Into that silence we often find life's hidden treasures, which have the ability to hold u back beyond all logic...
Now this opium named "Abhi" is the silence...the logic...& the insanity :-)
There's often a silence that separates...
the seen & the unseen...
the heard & the unheard...
the pragmatic & the unpragmatic...
Into that silence we often find life's hidden treasures, which have the ability to hold u back beyond all logic...
Now this opium named "Abhi" is the silence...the logic...& the insanity :-)
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