le Vaudeville..!

Silence before the storm

Fri, 01 Jul 2011 22:18:00 -0400

Tumbling winds, rumbling skies;

Streaks, electric;

fury in guise of violent poetry.

Halls of marble, the towers of stone,

of subdued elegance, sullen beauty;

poignantly stark, until awakened by the moonlight.

Marching armies- pieces of chess-

played by Machiavellian strategies,

and by conniving minds.

Masses, euphoric; a peoples rhetoric;

Chaotic, turbulent-

such runs the course of civilization.

Unsettling hearts, undulating emotions;

Like fluttering wings of humming birds,

nigh unseen by the naked eye.

Desires unlocked, and wishes unchained;

taking flight in turbulent skies…

Naked feet, and naked emotions;

the lovers kiss, passionately warm.

Oblivious, of course, to the chaos around;

United together,

in the silence before the storm.

"Politicians never accuse you of ‘greed’ for wanting other people’s money – only for wanting to keep..."

Thu, 23 Jun 2011 09:54:33 -0400

“Politicians never accuse you of ‘greed’ for wanting other people’s money – only for wanting to keep your own money.”

- Joseph Sobran (via disobey)

Oh look, it's raining!

Sat, 11 Jun 2011 12:13:15 -0400

As a kid, if one ever told me that the monsoon is overrated, and quite annoying, I’m not sure how my reaction would’ve been. Then again, who says such things to children?

Today, however, one said the exact same phrase to me; I’d think that person’s thoroughly misinformed. For two reasons: one, the monsoon, or the ‘rainy season’ as it’s know around these parts, isn’t overrated. It’s usually a case of ‘over’, but of a different kind, most of them being the grammatical cousins of the adjective ‘over-flowing’. And two, they’re not ‘quite’ annoying; I believe the word you’re looking for is ‘very’, and as always, it applies to us humans, and not the natural phenomenon which, I believe, is called ‘precipitation’ by the scientific community.

The thundering of rain clouds and the pitter-patter outside the window coincides with the opening of schools and colleges. Imagine waking up to a nice and cool morning, whilst you’re all snuggled up and cozy in your bed, and then facing the prospect of getting ready to…go out there. If this doesn’t ruin a good day, then I don’t know what does. School days, though, are okay; I mean, you don’t really need an excuse to make mischief, and splash about in puddles, and even if you do, you have a solid alibi: “Mom, it’s raining!”

Once you grow slightly older, and begin commuting, you say the same words; only this time, it’s a low, lazy and unwilling effort on your part, and it usually goes like, “Oh crap, it’s raining.”

But hey, you never really hate the monsoon. You just end up making a list of things that you hate during the monsoons.

Like, walking- anywhere outside the dryness of your house- be it the roads, or train stations; there’s cars splashing water and mud onto you, like it’s their god-given right to do so. And while you’re driving, swearing at stupid pedestrians who practically walk on the roads, like it’s their god-given right to do so. They can have the foot paths, skywalks or the whole of Marine Drive for all I care…but WHY the roads?! Alas, that enlightenment is still beyond me.

Coming to think of it, there is no single apparatus, accessory or even a damn vehicle here that is completely rain-proof, other than perhaps a reinforced concrete structure, with some good paint on the exterior walls; then again, you can’t carry your house everywhere, can you? You will have to settle for either an umbrella, or a wind-breaker. And to make this choice correctly is to have a superior sense of weather-forecasting, much like the Native American Indians. But unlike us, they usually stay indoors, and stock up on food supply when they predict harsh weather. While we are left to battle the unpredictable and unforgiving rain and winds (not to mention flooded gutters and potholes), in which case the umbrella ends up upturned, and the tie as the only garment which remains dry under a wind-breaker.

However, before you dismiss me as a cynic, let me tell you that I, in fact, do love the monsoon. Sure it has its downsides; you’ve just read about four-hundred words of it, and also the fact that I, like over a million people, have been stuck in local trains when the tracks flood (some scary scenario, this is); but, compared to summers that makes pot-holes baking ovens, and winters that are probably non-existent (or very cold, as we saw last year), the monsoon truly is a wonderful season.

Especially if you live in a place from where you can see lush, green mountains and water-falls; and have a terrace where you can get wet without stepping on mud or, being run over by a lunatic whose wipers aren’t working. But, if you live in a place where it floods the instant the skies begin tinkling and where there are traffic jams below your window, then, I’m sorry to say: bad luck, mate.

Do say: “Does anyone like the smell of wet earth?”

Don’t say: “So, um, doesn’t anyone like the smell of wet dog?”

Unsettling Scores

Tue, 07 Jun 2011 03:44:58 -0400

It was an evening like any other; I was on vacation, at my ancestral home, with uncles, aunts, grand-uncles, grand-aunts, and every kind if possible relation a person’s family tree could offer. The evenings, thankfully, were free of power cuts this time; which meant one thing: the television was on, and it usually fluctuated between soaps, news and cricket, accompanied by the commentary of those who were watching it.

Me, I was in another room; that is, until I heard a familiar track coming out of the TV room. I listened to it more intently; yes, I have heard it before. It took two seconds more before I realized what it was: Hans Zimmer’s ‘Pirates Of The Caribbean’ theme. Since when my grand-uncles have taken a liking to Jack Sparrow and his antics, I wondered. Curiosity got the best of me, but sadly, I was disappointed.
On the TV screen there was, oddly enough, no Jack Sparrow. There was a woman, who I deduced was the vamp of the serial; large, murderous eyes with a litre of charcoal under her eyelids, flashy sari, and a wonky bindi which resembled a modern artist’s nightmare on canvas. The camera panned to the protagonist; who was dressed austerely; in fact, by the standards of the vamp, this guy had to be naked. He wore a vacant expression, which I’d reclassify as vacuumed. And on the background, was a score that had made Sparrow’s escape memorable.

Predictably, this was out of sync considering the nature of the serial; which I was later told (rather hurriedly) was about infidelity and surrogate children. I took back my comment it the score being out of sync; to describe it as a metaphor would be to say that the Leaning Tower of Pisa would look good with chocolate and cherries on it. Still, that would be funny. This, on the other hand, evoked a mixed-response of hilarity, amusement, and puzzlement.

It is a sad fact that our country’s film, music and television industries are infamous for being plagiaristic. Or as they call themselves, in a first-grader kinda way, copycats. And when these, um, copycats, try to legitimize their copying as inspirations, we have something known as ‘India’s __________’; now this could be anything. Look at all the Woods we have here: Bollywood, Kollywood, Tollywood, and even the strange SandalWood. As for actors, Amitabh Bachchan, for instance, could be called India’s Robert de Niro, Marlon Brando and Sean Connery put into one; Akshay Kumar as ‘India’s Chuck Norris’; and Ram Gopal Varma as India’s Martin Scorsese and Alfred Hitchcock, who, obviously failed at it.

Okay, I don’t want to insult any more great names this way by drawing absurd references; but you get my point, right?

When it comes to music, though, shamelessness knows no bounds. Music in the Hindi film industry can be classified into two distinct eras; one, when people like R D Burman, Kishore Kumar and their contemporaries made music that was distinctively of their respective eras, like the jive and rock ‘n roll numbers, and the classical stuff. And two, that is, a time when Globalization was at its peak, tracks and background scores were lifted shamelessly off Western movies. We, however, beat that too. Kollywood would remake an English movie, which then would be remade by Bollywood, and then finally, and rather horribly, by Tollywood; which until quite recently had just one staple actor and actress, who usually played lovers, and a villain, his side kick, and a veteran who played roles of a cop/doctor, until he got old and played the role of a cool granddad. And then there’s Mithun, who was last seen on a dance reality show. Sorry, got carried away…anyway, about music.

So, how is the situation today? Much better, really. Yes, you have new and upcoming composers like Amit trivedi, Vishal-Shekhar and veterans like Rahman and Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy, who give Indian music their due respectability and some fantastic scores, if I may add that. Then again, we have people like Pritam, who give plagiarised scores, but ones that at least sound good (I checked if he’s the one who had put the ‘Pirates’ track in the serial; turns out, they didn’t have a music composer).

And of course, how could I forget Himesh Reshamiya. A person who is notorious for singing nasally, in seven out of eight tracks in his own album. Well, he also tends to plagiarise his own numbers…not that any one notices that. Speaking of which where is he?

And, speaking if ‘where’, ‘is’ and ‘he’ again, I wonder where Devang Patel is? If you don’t remember who this mad Gujju fellow was, allow me to refresh your memory. I consider him to be the pioneer of parody music in India. He was India’s Weird Al Yankovic, if I may use that analogy. He never, for a moment, tried to conceal the fact that his songs were plagiarised. Because, they weren’t; they were parodies, and hilarious ones, too!

‘Pichchadi pe kutta katta’ (Who Let The Dogs Out), ‘Hai Kammar’ (Whenever, Shakira), were considered to be classics! And he didn’t leave Indian pop stars of the nineties either; ‘Made In India’ which was a parody of, well, ‘Made In India’ by Alisha Chenoi.

God, where are the good parodies these days?

As I am about to end, I can hear another Hans Zimmer track playing, from ‘Crimson Tide’ in, you guessed it right, in a Bengali serial. In fact, he is one of the most plagiarised musicians on Indian TV, as I gathered through some painstaking (and thoroughly boring) research.

Hindi movies, and even serials, and I might as well add reality shows, too when I am at it, still use plagiarised tracks. And when they have their own tracks, they sound awful. Some Disney shows, though, come up with some very cool tracks; and by that I mean, the Hannah Montana and Jonas type tracks that would only thrill thirteen-year-olds.

As a kid, I grew up on some very good shows, like ‘Hip Hip Hurray’ and ‘Just Mohabbat’, which had some amazing music to it.

If there ever had to be a distinct Indian music of my generation, this would be a part of it; and of course, so would Devang Patel.

Why? Simply because you have to love pioneer when you see one!

Window seat

Fri, 20 May 2011 14:10:35 -0400

The salty air, the cool sweat;

the world passes by, at sixty miles an hour.

Too fast for many, too slow for some.

…A sea, it looks like,

one made of leaves and thorns;

And hidden boughs and roots,

entwined serpentine; barely even seen.

Calm, but violent waves risen high,

dotted across the landscape.

Not intending to return to the depths,

standing, perhaps, for all eternity.

The retreating sea,

the muck it leaves, reeking under the sun;

Filth for many; treasures for some.

The sea retreats, winds advance.

Specks of blue and red on tattered papers-

kites with broken strings;

Lost, now claimed by the winds.

The tides return;

A lone tower stands, its proud foundation weakened,

its bastion ruined, blackened;

A vestige of the vision of wise men,

inhabited now by vultures and vermin;

Crumbling, but hoping still to outlast time itself.

The sea, the winds, left behind;

Life passes by, and life goes on.

The world looks different; alive and surreal,

as I watch, dreamy-eyed,

from my refuge on the window seat.

The Completely Falsified Cricket Trivia. Ever.

Wed, 30 Mar 2011 12:07:19 -0400

#1. Obviously, the sport of cricket is named after a bug; why? Before the legendary Lagaan match (it is true) it was just called ‘bat-and-ball’, then in the early 1800s some Britons accidentally squished a cricket (the swear phrase today is known as ‘crikey’). To honour the dead bug (the players then were entomologists) the renamed bat-and-ball as “cricket”.

#12. The sport of cricket is more tragic than ironic; the Brits who invented it, sadly today are not even that close to monopolizing the game. All a result of their stupid colonial imperialism. Bloody capitalists! And more tragically, Indians like Akshay Kumar are now playing in their teams.

#41. During the Cold War years, India and certain other NAM countries decided to thaw the US-USSR cold vibes by organizing a friendly cricket match.

#46. That plan didn’t materialize as the Americans had more disdain for an English game than they had for a Soviet State. And, most of the Russian players wanted to defect to the West but were later caught and shot dead by the KGB.

#67. The most unfair practice in International Cricket today is the Home Ground advantage; matches should be organized in non-cricketing countries so that it boosts the economy of those nations and well, the propagation of cricket.

#74. The second most unfair practice in International Cricket is the Duck-Worth Lewis method. Actually, it’s the most illogical and worthless thing ever (worse than this trivia, too). I mean, is cricket about an insect and a duck? Or was that an umpire who decided to play God?

#118. The IPL should be renamed the IIPL, International Indian Premiere League. Why? I really don’t know. They can still call it the “eyee-pee-ell“…I guess.

#126. Lalit Modi is actually Sharad Pawar’s long-lost nephew. When he realized that Pawar ditched him at the Kumbha-Mela, he decided to make it large and make his sporting extravaganza larger than the BCCI.

#133. When the Shiv-Sena dug the pitch at Wankhede in ‘91, they were actually planning to bury a few loads of cash. It never struck them that the ditches have to be filled after they’re stuffed with cash.

#149. Call it hypocritical or ironical, I actually cheer for Indian players more in an IPL match than an international one; just a few favourites, mind you.

#153. It’s grossly untrue that most Indians are unaware of sports like hockey and tennis; every Indian knows that the “70 minutes” of a hockey match are the most important 70 minutes for the players; I’m guessing they get paid by the hour. And as for tennis, which Indian male ever missed a Sania Mirza match!

#191. “99” is the second best Indian movie about cricket after ‘Lagaan’; and the best part is, half the movie’s about betting and match-fixing!

#199. No matter how many such random and pointless posts, such as this, you read, cricket will always be second to football!

Days of summer

Tue, 22 Mar 2011 10:18:09 -0400

Sliding down a heap of gravel,

a trail of dust- his legacy;

Little limbs un-tired,

eager to climb, perhaps a tree…

Hard to catch, slipping under branches,

over boulders;

Running ‘cross grassy fields,

swampy marshes,

one day a king; another day, an explorer.

His scrawny elbow scraped,

his sinewy knees hurt;

The smile on the face never fades,

dirtied too, is his shirt.

Butterflies and creepy-crawlies,

stray dogs and tabby cats;

The birds in the sky, too- his companions,

he seems frightened though,

of the fox-eared fruit bats…

In the mornings he leaves,

sits under a tree, avoiding the hot sun;

A blade of grass in his mouth,

with a few human friends, tales they’d all spun…

Sunset they saw from the Three-Kings’ Hill,

racing back home- their final sport;

clothes muddied, knees bloodied-

his ma welcomes him home…

Before he sleeps, he thinks-

Tomorrow, there’s to conquer another peak,

another day, another fort…

"Dance is the tribute to Music"

Fri, 25 Feb 2011 12:53:15 -0500

“Dance is the tribute to Music”

-
Anonymous

(via rhythmoveejhatkas)

"The only thing a writer should be truly afraid of, as in completely terrified, is…having no..."

Fri, 25 Feb 2011 12:44:39 -0500

“The only thing a writer should be truly afraid of, as in completely terrified, is…having no pen.”

- Proshant Chakraborty

WHERE WOULD YOU MOST LIKE TO VISIT ON YOUR PLANET?

Sat, 19 Feb 2011 10:45:22 -0500

hmm…I’d have to go with Middle Earth…

"You can’t have your cake and eat it too."

Fri, 18 Feb 2011 10:47:46 -0500

“You can’t have your cake and eat it too.”

- John Galt

By the Sea

Wed, 16 Feb 2011 12:33:00 -0500

Basking in the moonlight,

I see the sea, before me…

and the breeze, blowin’,

the hair off my forehead…

and the leaves rustling,

shifting, mid air…

sayin’, “yeah, we’re there…”

Walkin’ down the promenade,

a boulevard of flowers,

fragrances, nostalgic…

like the spring showers.

Crashin’, thrashin’,

the waves on the rocks…

I leave my footprints,

on the sand, without socks…

An empty bottle, hollow,

like there’s no tomorrow…

A violent swig, a capsized brig,

on the sandy beach…

No, I ain’t drunk..!

Only groovin’ to the funk…

and all that this night has to offer…!

God’s wonderful creation,

the symphony

of a jazz composition..!

The rhythm and the blues,

the night and its hues…

Come, sing along with me,

‘cause, we’re walkin’ by the sea, yeah…

An Ode to the Moon

Mon, 14 Feb 2011 10:14:12 -0500

A companion on lonely nights,

an ominous glow,

Reassuring; ‘everything’s alright…’

Not merely a disc,

with shifting, changing phases;

But an exciting dream

to discover as time passes!

As bright as a hundred stars!

Gentle beams of light,

radiate purity from afar…

A face, cloaked, surrounded

by the deep-blue stole of the midnight sky;

Nourishing my love,

with abundant passion, and joy!

My heart skips a beat, the Moon I can’t see…

But on the next very night,

a white curve fills my heart with glee!

A companion on lonely nights;

A friend, up above;

Looking down, as I’m walking…

‘Yes, everything’s alright…’

The Frauds Of India (FOI): Misr Awakes

Mon, 14 Feb 2011 10:12:03 -0500

The Frauds Of India (FOI): Misr Awakes:

thefraudsofindia:

Written by Pro-Ashant Chuck-Robot(e), our on-ground reporter in Cairo.

There are many words to describe the situation at Cairo Antarashtriya Havai-adda; chaos is one of them. After collecting my baggage, I was screened for weapons and the sort. My contact in Egypt (known as Misr in the…

A Pocket Full of Pennies

Sat, 05 Feb 2011 07:54:01 -0500

From the rattly ‘ol ferry,

rollin’, pitchin’ in the sea,

being thrown off balance,

he stood in awe,

beholdin’ the sight

of the City.

Made of dreams, thoughts,

and ideas, so bold;

Built by the labour, blood

and sweat of a great too many;

Cast in shafts of concrete, steel,

and glass;

Spread out, uneven,

a jagged, geometric skyline,

silhouetted dark,

against the settin’ sunlight.

Lightin’ up, after dusk,

are lil’ sparks,

of incandescent light bulbs,

and fluorescent;

A thousand yellow-blue eyes staring,

cold, yet comforting.

A place, where,

a pauper could dream,

of being a prince;

Yes, oaths he’d have to make,

inked in blood, toiling in sweat;

Revering the grandeur of the City,

only to break,

or make himself, into what he wishes to be.

Yes.

That day would come;

But today, on this rattly ‘ol ferry,

his heart is filled,

with the weight of dreams;

though his pocket’s filled,

with just pennies.

The sweeper

Sat, 05 Feb 2011 07:19:44 -0500

A wisp of smoke,

rises from the dying embers

of last night’s fire;

formless,

in the hazy morning fog.

Hard bristles,

scrape the cemented pavement;

stroke after stroke,

in a sweeping rhythm,

echoing in the alley.

Dry leaves,

swept like a tide,

melting in a sea of brown-red hues

of the autumn fall;

dust rises,

mingled with the smoke,

suspended in motion;

an artistic cloud, of harmless pollution.

The sweeping ceases,

a discomforting silence

‘til the hard bristles scrape again;

stopping only

when the sweeper wipes

the sweat, off his wrinkled temple,

ruffling his grey hair.

Holding the broom firmly;

elegantly,

sweeping the pavement,

as the morning rush get in…

only to drown

the sound of the hard bristles,

sweeping the cemented pavement…

The Frauds Of India (FOI): Republic Day Special

Wed, 26 Jan 2011 07:19:43 -0500

The Frauds Of India (FOI): Republic Day Special:

thefraudsofindia:

Written by Pro-Ashant Chuck-Robot(E).

“High ho! High ho! Off to Kashmir we go!”

This motto seems to have gripped the BJP’s (pronounced ‘Bha-Ja-Pa’) top brass as well as its lower echelons, causing a political furore across the national, political (and academic, mostly students of…

The Frauds Of India (FOI): The Bollywood Razzies

Tue, 25 Jan 2011 09:17:53 -0500

The Frauds Of India (FOI): The Bollywood Razzies:

thefraudsofindia:

As the Razzie nominations came out, Bollywood decided not to remain far behind. Ta-Run Adhaa-Harsh, Bollywood’s leading film critic along with the Shraap Panchayat have brought out a list of what they think are the worst films to release in India in 2010.

So without further adieu, the…

The Frauds Of India (FOI): Was The King, And Still Is The King!

Sun, 23 Jan 2011 09:23:13 -0500

The Frauds Of India (FOI): Was The King, And Still Is The King!:

thefraudsofindia:

Written by Pro-Ashant Chuck-Robot(E).

The Frauds Of India have done it again. Actually, they’ve done it for the first time in the history of journalism. We, by means of a ‘Top-Secret-Not-Known-To-Any’ communication device, have been successful in contacting those beyond the grave.

This new piece…

Selective (un)Reasoning, Part 2

Thu, 20 Jan 2011 13:16:31 -0500

(Continued from Part 1…)

Scenario One:

“Why don’t you ever try chick-flick romances?” asked a friend, still fresh after a mushy Mills & Boon novel.

“For the same reason you don’t read Bond novels,” was my reply.

I could say she was rather surprised, if not offended by my supposedly ‘sexist’ quip. “There’s no comparison between the two,” she declared. “Your stupid Bond novels just glorify sex and murder, that’s all.”

“The only difference,” I said, “is that my hero carries a Walther PPK, and your knight-in-shining armour carries a, um, they do have knights in M&B, don’t they? I mean, they don’t have Aston Martins for sure!”

Well, what more can I say…to me, I won the argument, but, to be chivalrous, I kept mum. (Well, that should’ve impressed her, since M&B guys are known to be chivalrous. Aren’t they?)

As you can see from the above scenario, my friend is biased in “un-favour” of Bond novels. This is a classic case of prejudice, as her opinions are not based on facts, but just stupid generalizations she gathered from watching half a Bond movie.

My reaction, on the other hand, is that of Selective (un)Reasoning. I have limited knowledge of the working of an M&B novel (yes, I once happened to ruffle through a few pages. Just some innocent curiosity, I assure you). And, in no way am I putting Bond novels at a higher literary position that the M&B ones (but, tell me this, exactly how many M&B novels are made into movies?!)

So, point in case, my logic is partially, but scientifically nevertheless, validated as being selective and (un)reasonable.

So, the next time some once accuses you for being particularly prejudiced, make sure you’re at you Selective (un)Reasoning best.

Or just try cooking up some new term…you never know, I might end up reading your note on that!

Do Say: “There is, after all, ‘logic’ in the ‘illogical’.”

Don’t Say: So, where does the ‘Pride’ part feature in Pride and Prejudice? Er, or was that ‘Bride’ by any chance?