The importance of being nice.

Is there a course in modesty? If so, it should be prescribed in all colleges compulsorily. How to talk on phone, the correct conduct in offices, the common courtesies that make life much more bearable. Getting your thank-yous and sorrys in place! I sound like an etiquette-Nazi, here. But I won't apologise for that.

Look at Mr Amitabh Bachchan. Whatever his personal merits and demerits be, he is extremely courteous and self-effacing when speaking to the press. Not 'I am the God of Indian Cinema and you better not ask me any silly questions'. Never. Maybe that's just a facade and all that modesty is just a clever emotional barricade. The point is, he makes an effort when he doesn't need to. People would continue adoring him, even if he was more ego-maniacal or less modest. Fake it, if you don't feel modest or can't be bothered. But at least make an effort.

Attitude is a good thing. Snobby, snooty, holier-than-thou, intellectual-than-thou attitude is just a piggy thing. Recent example: Chip-on-the-shoulder-candidate at office interview can't be bothered to give answers and acts like he/she is doing a favour by appearing for the interview. What's worse, said candidate was desperate for the job but post-interview acted like he/she would do us a mighty favour by joining, and that it was probably too infra dig for the star-applicant. Tough luck. When someone walks in for an inteview, it is also the attitude at test, no matter how impressive their skill-set is. I always thought this was obvious. But apparently not.

Of course, this doesn't mean we should all be robotic prototypes of exemplary behaviour all the time. Arrogance comes in handy when dealing with somebody with a bad attitude. Shout back at the bullies. Aloof, standoffish, cold and impertinent attitude is just the cure for some who deserve a taste of their own medicine. Use the swear words, when they have the maximum impact and when the situation calls for it. Not the whole effing-time. It is not 'cool', really. It just shows your limited vocabulary.

Johnny mera naam

One of the joys of watching a less-hyped movie is the experience of being pleasantly surprised. If the movie fails to deliver, well you didn’t expect much anyway, but if it is good, then you can bask in the serendipitous glory of having discovered a good watch. So that’s what happened when I saw Johnny Gaddaar(that too on DVD!) this weekend.

Busy as I am(smirk), I never knew when this movie was released and went and briefly registered itself in my memory. Only when my brother literally ‘forced’ me to watch it this Saturday night. “It is excellent, you will be glued to your seat,” he said. Since I somewhat trust his opinion in Hindi movies, I decided to give it a go right then and there. I watched it with ‘lowered expectations’ as I had no clue whatsoever except that it stars the very good-looking grandson of legendary singer Mukesh. Ah! The joy of seeing a gripping, nail-biting thriller when all you had in mind was a typical pot-boiler.

Hats-off to the director for not resorting to a Hollywood storyline – which is the preferred and easier thing to do these days. Johnny Gaddaar excels in most departments of film-making, but I can’t get over the simple but original storyline that could have been a James Hadley Chase novel but is not! The plot is the hero of the film and the execution of the story is close to perfect. I won’t do a critique of the excellent cinematography, background score, flawless acting and kick-ass narration, as there are people better-placed than me to do that. I am no expert. But I have a sort of twisted pride in my own judgement. I consider my taste in movies very sophisticated and invincible. I won’t like something rubbish just because it gets good reviews and vice versa. I don’t even read the popular reviews anymore because the critics mostly support the clan they belong to (still haven’t gotten over the four star or was it four-and-a-half for Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gam). I simply rely on the better judgement of friends who have good phillum-sense.

In a nutshell, it is brilliant; a very good finished example of ‘how to tell a story’. A film-noir tribute to the 70s. All those references to Parwana, Vijay Anand’s movies, James Hadley Chase, Scarface, establish it clearly that here’s a director who loves movies a bit too much. What’s more, the suspense is revealed at the beginning of the film. And to then keep the what-next element alive, requires directorial panache. So bonus marks for that. I would write about the superb acting here but then the post will run into several pages. May I just say that Neil Nitin Mukesh is a true find. He totally rocks and sure has guts. It requires courage to debut in a ‘negative role’. Especially when you have chocolate faced good looks - the stuff that Bollywood launch-pad romantic flicks are made of.

What then irks me is that NNM doesn’t get half the media-hype that a Ranbir Kapoor gets(forget awards since they clearly follow a different kind of lobbying). I haven’t seen Saawariya, so no comments whatsoever on Ranbir Kapoor’s calibre(or possible lack thereof). But maybe I shouldn’t be complaining. At least NNM got half an IIFA, if that counts. (Fresh Face of the Year award, it seems!. All these award functions should get an award for coining newer categories every year to fit in everyone and please one-and-all. And the most innovative new award for creating new awards goes to..... )

Finally, thank you Neil for dragging me to watch it at gun-point. (I mean my brother not the actor!)

Disclaimer: This is not a film review. Just relentless gushing over an entertaining film from a cinema-buff who doesn’t watch so many films anymore. Kisi ko bura lage to ghar jaa ke do roti jyaada kha lena ;-)

Let me tell you a secret

It is about one of my favourite blogs. Confession: I am addicted to the Internet in a big way(and being a website subeditor doesn't help it any.) I love visiting new, unusual, sites and reading up on the net. One reason why I have been writing less and less, surfing and reading online, more. This is how, I stumbled upon this legendary blog(site?), which I am sure many are aware of. It is postsecret.blogspot.com/.

One of the most phenomenal projects, modern art in progress, innovative-beyond-belief experiments that I have come across in a long span of time. IT is so beautiful and touches such a raw nerve, that it hurts. I don't just get this affected by anything anymore. Books, music and movies used to do it for me, when I would have goose-bumps and shiver all over with the emotion of the thing(not to mention cry hopelessly in public or private). But now although I can admire a good movie or a stimulating read, it doesn't have the same impact. I am jaded.

But postsecret does it for me. Based on the ludicrously simple concept that completely anonymous people decorate a home-made postcard and portray a secret that they had never previously revealed to anyone, albeit, as beautifully and as creatively as they can. I don't know if it is the one-sentence messages crawled across the postcards or the soulful images and visuals they employ t0 make these post-cards, but it blows me away every Monday(the site is updated every Sunday) when I have a look.

Words are simply inadequate. Watch this video(though nothing compares to viewing the post-cards on the website). I want to collect the postsecret books now and maybe even post a secret some day. I am hooked.

There’s more to Baroda than Sev Usal

A few years ago, I tried googling the word ‘Baroda’ being an ardent Baroda-phile. Apart from a couple of other ‘Barodas' across the globe, I found a few entries on my Baroda. I wasn’t interested in looking at commercial websites but more of a blog or an individual account of the city – I didn’t find any.

What I did find after a variety of keyword combinations were various posts on messenger boards and Baroda websites, mostly nostalgic tributes by expatriates and Barodian students at universities abroad. All of them mentioned how much they missed the city and had one thing in common. An unabashed tribute to the famous Mahakali’s sev-usal. That’s it. No reference to the city’s great culture, heritage, or history.

Now sev-usal, essentially a Maharashtrian dish is hugely, insanely popular in Baroda. So popular that we have one road-side laari serving this in every corner of the city. And Mahakali’s sev-usal for those who have savoured it is a cult in itself. I can see why though, having been converted after one taste of this legendary pea bean soup. But I am unwilling to let it go at that. There’s more to this city than sev-usal.

More recently, I found this breathtakingly beautiful slide-show of old Baroda pictures. An absolute delight for someone who loves this city (and possibly even for those who don’t?). See for yourself.

And here’s a short list of things that set the sleepy, lazy town of Baroda apart from any other that I know. IMHO, of course.

Navratri: Indubitably, it has the world’s best, best Navratri ever. No comparisons. For these nine nights, the city well and truly wakes up and lives it up in an unusual style.

The Maharaja Sayajirao University: for what it was to a lot of people, and still is to some. True, the 127-year-old institution is not the same anymore, but how many 127-year-old things are? The Faculty of Arts, Fine Arts and Performing Arts in particular. Kudos!

The great visionary: Maharaja Sayajirao Gaekwad himself, who had astonishing foresight that is visible in every institution, every monument and every system of the city that bears his stamp.

Culture: Not called sanskar-nagri for nothing. The air of Baroda has a different something, be it the Gujarati they speak here. Artists of international acclaim that reside here, the poets, the novelists, the academicians, the botanists and the zoologists. The great singers, musicians, dancers, dramatists. In fact, even the architecture, the landscaping and the old four-walled city lend a character quite unlike any other.

The Banyan trees: Pardon me for stating the obvious, if it is obvious. But the city does get its name from the magnificent Banyan trees that dot the roads and every park. They are beautiful and very, very Baroda. And one lesser known fact about Vadodara is that it is the one of the rare cities in India that has an abundance of the hyphaene or the branching palm – which is beautiful to look at.

Rail connectivity: May not sound like much but being an important junction has obvious advantages and connectivity that makes life easier.

Block prints: Generally speaking, I haven’t seen the kind of block-printed cotton that you get here(way different from Rajasthani ones), something that’s on the shopping list of all out-of-town family and friends. Really marvellous how they have kept the traditional block prints and the cottons going on for years on end.

Contribution to cricket: By which I don’t mean the Pathan brothers. The Baroda Ranji team and the BCA have a unique association with the game that goes as far back as 1904. The BCA has a beautiful picture gallery of old and new rare moments in cricket history, which is a must-see.

Paan: I have been told by paan-lovers that they just don’t make them like Baroda anywhere in the world. I know a lot of people from Nadiad (what’s the word for that – Nadiadites or Nadiadians or Nadiadadis?) who think the same about Nadiad paans and a lot of Mumbaiites claim about their paan too. A dubious distinction again.

And last but not the least food: be it Duliram’s penda, Jagdish’s bhakharwadi, Room-zoom’s pani-puri, Pyarelal’s kachori, Sandwiches, bhel and sev-puri on R C Dutt road, and of course Mahakali’s sev-usal.

why don't you blog?

i get this a lot!(surprisingly). i have several answers. For starters, why should i assume people would be interested in what I have to say. i don't have an opinion on everything in the universe and even if i would, why would I declare it to the whole, wide, world. And who cares two hoots about my favourite flavour of ice-cream or why Georgia is my favourite font, or why i prefer British English over American.

No offence to bloggers in general, i am hooked to a number of them and really think they are doing a great job, out there. But it is a different kettle of fish. And not just anyone who can write, can blog. It takes a whole lot of courage to put your thoughts out for the world to judge, criticise and comment on. And courage i lack.

More importantly, my mind just refuses to write when there is no pressure of a deadline(or for that matter no four-rupee per-word incentive). It is a different thing when you are writing for a newspaper and the clock is ticking by and you have to make the 6 pm deadline, along with the title, the slug and the captions. you'd better get typing and do your bit towards deforestation.

So why i am i blogging finally? Because, after months of persuading myself not to for all the above-mentioned reasons, i finally lost out to the greater truth. Blogging is about celebrating the trivial, and microspecting the mundane. Making daily mountains of molehills, if you like. And more importantly, to stop taking oneself so bloody seriously. To laugh and be laughed at. So now I long to be a part of the big, bad, blogging world out there. Come hell or high water. I blog!