Trad Bongs Versus Non-Trad Bongs - Bengalis from the Point of View of a Bong

“E ma, tui machh khash na!” (“Oh My God, you don’t eat fish!”). If I got a Rupee every time someone said this to me, I’d be quite rich by now. Yes, I’m a Bengali. And no, I don’t eat fish. I don’t like Rosogollas and Phuchkas either. I think a few Bengali foodies just fainted…

I heard someone say a couple of weeks ago that the dislike of fish is a fashion among Bengalis of the younger generation. Hello! Fashion? What fashion? Isn’t it my wish what I do and do not put in my mouth and attempt to digest? I don’t see you wearing a low rise jeans or a plunging neckline despite not being comfortable in it. The sweet stink that accompanies a fish has been major turn-off for me since childhood. The mere thought of putting something which smells that stinky, despite however it might smell after cooking, in my mouth is repulsive. But hey! I don’t go around stopping other people from stuffing themselves with platefuls of fish. 

So why do I have to keep explaining my gastronomical preferences to one and all. I’ve seen how you all look at other forms of meat. Not ‘chikayn’. Never ‘chikayn’. After the holy fish-gods, ‘chikayn’ is the only meat looked at as being of pure noble spirit. Nothing bad ever comes about from having excess ‘chikayn’. So KFC flourishes all over Calcutta. Ok, so the bird is safe. What about the goat? Well, there my fellow Bongo-bashis are split down the middle. Some adore it; others avoid it like the plague. Depending on which side of the fence you sit, it qualifies either as the juiciest meat you’ll ever taste or the rubberiest. And then come the other two types of meat, the ones-that-must-not-be-named; or eaten. The mere mention of those types of meat to most Bengalis is sure to get you struck off their invite list. One is dirty, the other is holy. I wonder who made those classifications. Not as if someone’s asking you to eat them raw. But again, I don’t impose. But still, they do. 

The problem, they say, is that you’re not quite Bengali unless you are able to de-bone the boniest, most foul smelling, pieces of meat with your bare hands and gulp them down, with curry covering your hands till your wrists.

Then there’s Phuchka. You should listen to my fellow Bengalis boasting about how many they ate! “Once I ate 50”, says the local aged uncle. “That’s nothing”, quips his younger fellow commuter on the bus. “I once ate 70, with extra spice”. There’s surely a Guinness world record waiting somewhere. It is said to brighten the gloomiest of moods, encourage the juiciest of conversations and make you feel excellent in general.  Must be alcohol they mix in the water, because that’s the only thing I know which has those effects. And so the model Bengali spends their lazy evenings at his local Phuchka-wala, named appropriately as Gangu, gorging on a few dozen Phuchkas, without worrying about why the same water is used in their dish as well as to wash Gangu’s hands.

When I was younger, no name struck more fear in me than the one and the only – Rabindranath Tagore. 

I’ve got to be careful not to get thrown out of this city with what I say next. Agreed, he won India’s first Nobel Prize. Agreed, he wrote a lot and a lot of good stuff too. But please, have you ever wondered who his target audience was? Was it really the 13 year old student being force fed Mr. Tagore’s works in the name of syllabus? Was that blasphemy I just committed? Well, I guess I’ll find out after I post this. Wouldn’t it be better if his works were taught without the pressure of having to sit for exams on them at the end of the term? Anyway, those are questions for another time and place. The fact that I prefer English authors to Mr. Tagore is also a problem. Is writing his name as Mr. Tagore also a problem? Not Bengali enough maybe, I don’t know. I like reading English because I had good English teachers who were able to generate my interest in the subject. It’s nothing against Bengali. Just my preference. But that’s strike 2 isn’t it?

Then there’s the country’s favourite pastime – Cricket. Or maybe it’s favourite religion? Either way. For a Bengali, before 1996, Cricket meant Sachin Tendulkar. To be fair, Cricket meant Sachin Tendulkar for the whole country back then. From 1996, Cricket meant Sachin and Mr. Bongoshontan himself, Sourav Ganguly. 

They cheered when he hit his famous cover-drive, groaned when he got out, defended him with their lives when he got Tendulkar run-out against New Zealand in the Champion’s Trophy final in Nairobi. Some even dared to call him greater than Sachin himself. Heresy, I say! And then there’s the fact that India has never produced a worse criminal than a certain Rahul Dravid. How they blasted him on our mighty one’s ouster. Ouch! You’d think it was murder! He came back a couple of years later, and retired a couple more years later on his own terms. They said he had been forced. They said he was the greatest. Hold on, what about the other Greatest? Surely, he wasn’t greater than God! And then KKR dumped him after three unsuccessful seasons. We became Pune-ites (for want of a better word) overnight. The discussions were mind-numbing! “It’s only a game”, I thought. They were ready to execute. The next year Pune dumped themselves out. IPL was the forbidden fruit. They missed the chance of celebrating two IPL Championship wins. They took it on the chin with stoic faces and muted applause. My fellows have exiled themselves from ‘India ka Tyouhar’ (that’s difficult to spell in English!).

The year is 2025, Yuzvendra Chahal, the captain of India walks out to the toss. Heard in Behala that afternoon, “Sourav kokhonoi batting nitona ei pitch e. Plus, eta toh day night match. Raate eto dew. Ei shob player ki kore je captain hoe ke jane. Gelo ajke.” (Sourav would never have batted first on this pitch. It’s a day-night game. Plus, the dew factor will come into play. I’m amazed at how such players become captain. We have no chance today”. I rest my case.

Okay, the traditional Bengalis are not all that bad. And no, I don't call myself or my fellow Begalis as Bongs. This post is meant to be a satirical comment from one who is a so-called non-traditional writing about his observations about the traditionals. They sure make for interesting conversation. They love their food, their literature, their history, their culture and their cricket. Also their football. Don’t get me started on the Brazil versus Argentina argument. It could go on all night! They’re some of the most passionate people you’ll ever come across. My girlfriend’s a traditional Bengali and I’ve got no complaints so far. In fact, all this makes for excellent conversation topics. And a reminder, just because I don’t share their preferences, doesn't make me any less proud of all this. It isn't fashionable to be different. Just that I am different.

2 States - The story next door!

After much pushing, shoving and an ultimatum, here I am writing my next movie review - 2 States. It's been awhile since I watched the same, but lets face it, Calcutta has been too hot to sit and think straight, much less write something cohesive and do justice to the same. Enough blabber and excuses, down to business...

At the onset I have to mention that this is the first movie adaption of any Chetan Bhagat novel which has kept exactly the same story line as the book. I have not dared to watch 'Hello', adapted from 'One Night at the Call Center', so please pardon me for the my lack of knowledge about the same (:-P). And with good reason too that it sticks to the book; this is the only novel which Bhagat got right as a complete package. Sure, '5 Point Someone' was hilarious, but this one actually had some readability in terms of language. So sticking to the book it did, and I believe Abhishek Varman, the director, did a good job of it.

The thing that strikes you most in this movie is the use of bright, almost happy colours through most of the movie. Whether it be Alia's dresses, the Holi celebrations or the ornate wedding decorations, colours seem to fly at you from every direction like a Sony Bravia or Samsung Smart TV ad. The colour scheme goes equally mellow in somber scenes. That perhaps was the best part of the cinematography.

The songs are another part of the movie that have been well used. The entire soundtrack is really peppy and sticks in your head. At no point do they become irritating or feel out of place. Shankar Ehsaan Loy has come up with another impressive album after 'Bhaag Milkha Bhaag'. Its a shame they don't do more work with all the rubbish being thrown at us nowadays.

Coming to the part which impressed me the most. After watching 'Student of the Year' last year (why oh why!! sorry Soumi :-P), I had written off Alia Bhatt as just another face in the crowd. But boy! can she act. She showed her skills with 'Highway', putting in a performance to match the rugged Randeep Hooda. Here, she steals the show. It's hard to keep your eyes off her. Not that Arjun Kappor doesn't do a good job. He is Krish and plays the role of the goofy nerd smitten by Ananya well in the first part and wins your heart with the lovable Punjabi mamma's boy caught between his love and his mother in the second. But everytime Alia shows up on screen, she portrays the feisty Ananya with aplomb. The best scene of the movie is definitely the one where she convinces Arjun's screen cousin's groom to not call off the marriage, putting him in his place, before he could realise what had hit him. She delivers every emotion required of her with natural ease, much more impressively than a lot of her over-hyped contemporaries.

There are accomplished roles played by Amrita Singh and Ronit Roy as Arjun's parents. The tension is palpable as the flashback scene is shown explaining Krish's current situation with his father. There is also a very good performance put in by Revati, as Alia's mother. The scene where she sings in Krish's office function brings a smile to your face.

All in all, the film is well made and the best part is that it sticks to the plot of the book. I would give 3.5 for the movie and an extra half points just for Alia.

Verdict : 4 out of 5. Well worth a watch, if you've not seen it already. Worth a second watch too with friends and/or loved ones as it never bores you.

Till next time. Cheers :-)

Seven Stages of Love...

"dilkashi, uns, mohabbat, akidat, ibadat, junoo, maut"

Attraction, Infatuation, Romance, Reverence, Worship, Obsession and... Death
This is what we learn when we go to watch Dedh Ishqiya. This and the fact that no amount of graying hairs or aging limbs can take away the acting prowess of the two powerhouses, the enchanting Madhuri Dixit and the magnificient Naseeruddin Shah. They lead the way in this movie where love, lust, deception and treachery is cleverly woven into a series of comical escapades which end with our lovable thieves back to where they begin.
This edition of the movie picks up where the last one left-off. Arshad Warsi tries to wriggle his way out of Death's grasp with cunning words and sly intelligence. What follows is an unholy re-union with his Khalu, who is on a quest to re-capture his childhood sweetheart's love. The story takes us to Mamudabad where the widowed Begum, played with her usual regal grace by Madhuri Dixt, holds a poet's congregation to chose a husband for herself. This is not what she desires, but does so to fulfill a promise she made to her late husband, the erstwhile Nawad of Mahmudabad. The poets try to outdo and out-recite each other from the moment they lay eyes on the Begum. Introducing the Begum to us is the lovely Huma Qureshi, who holds her own even in scenes with the legendary Madhuri. She portrays the role of a loyal confidant, a friend and a soul-mate to the aggrieved Begum, helping her live through her hardest days. She looks in every way as lovely as Madhuri herself, with perfect dialogue delivery and a commanding screen presence. I predict a very bright future for this actress.
This is where the story gets interesting as Naseeruddin Shah, posing as a Nawab, impresses the Begum from the outset, much to the chagrin of the local MLA, played with aplomb by Vijay Raaz. A scene where the uncle-nephew duo and the MLA and his men square off with guns pointing at each other is hilarious. The comic timing of every actor is spot-on and the audience is left in splits. I must commend the script writers here, who capture both the polished Urdu as well as the local slangs used in the film with equal capability. Nowhere does any of the lines seem out of place, nowhere does any of the verses seem exaggerated. The main twist in the film is somewhat predictable but there is another twist at the end which will leave you thumping the arm rests in the theaters.
Enough cannot be said in praise of Naseeruddin Shah. He seems to be getting better with age. From Ishqiya to Dedh Ishqiya, and everything in between, he mesmerizes with both voice and presence on screen. The first verse he recites in honour of the Begum as well as the song he sings at the poets' congregation are worth remembering. Madhuri Dixit still has the capability of stopping a million hearts with one look. She fits perfectly into the role of the aggrieved widow, matching Naseeruddin dialogue for dialogue, emotion for emotion. She displays the trials and tribulations of a single woman holding together the crumbling empire with precision. Arshad Warsi is at his hysterical and explicit best in scenes with Naseeruddin Shah and Huma Qureshi. This is a role which he fits into very well. He mixes innocence with deviousness with ease to portray a cunning but extremely loyal thief. Huma Qureshi is surely heading for big things if she continues to play such roles. After her success in Gangs of Wasseypur, this adds another feature in her slowly increasing cap of movies. The songs, as usual, by Gulzar, are worth mentioning. He has even written a rap song, sung by none other than Honey Singh! "Dil ki Misaaj' and 'Hamari Atariya', which unfortunately comes on only at the ending credits, will stick to you for some time. The direction, by Abhishek Chaubey comes without much room for improvement, with the screenplay keeping one interested all through the movie. Nowhere in the movie did I feel bored.
All in all, I would definitely recommend Dedh Ishqiya as a weekend watch, and beyond. As good as the first installment.

My Rating: 3.5 out of 5

My First Train Ride Alone

On 25^th July, 2013 I boarded a train alone for the first time, at the ripe old age of twenty-four! I was going home from XIMB, to spend the weekend after the mid-semester examinations. Yes, my stay at XIMB is the first time I am away from home, ever! All my life, my schooling, my engineering under-graduation, my job, everything was based in my home city, Kolkata. On 9^th June 2013, I boarded a train, not alone, to come to XIMB, which is my home now and will be for the better part of the next two years. Needless to say, this is the longest I've ever stayed away from home. So when the time came to go home after six weeks here, it was new experience for me. I told myself, “How hard can it be?”, and plunged into it without hesitation.

On reaching the station, I realized just how uninformed I was about travelling in trains. I did not know previously that train coach numbers came up on electronic boards on the platform. I had asked at least five different people how I would know where the compartment was where I had to get on. The waiting time was just five minutes in Bhubaneswar, so I was worried about missing the train (your regular ‘Jab We Met’ moment).

After getting on the train itself, there was another surprise waiting for me. The train was the Puri-Howrah express. So, it had already travelled one and half hours before it reached Bhubaneswar. The time when I boarded the train was just before twelve o’clock. What greeted me in the compartment was darkness! Everyone had already made their beds and fallen asleep! I don’t think I have to point out that life is in full flow at any B-School at Midnight. So, in six weeks here at XIMB, I had gotten used to that lifestyle as well. Unfortunately, I had no option but to tie up my suitcase, make my bed and pretend to fall asleep. Sometime later, a serious looking Ticket Checker turned on an overhead light and asked for my ticket. On being satisfied by what I produced, he left, leaving me, again, alone in the darkness. I knew there was no way I would fall asleep that early. So I decided to spend some time playing Blobby Volleyball on my cell phone. Eventually, the phone started making noises indicating low battery, so I had to give on that avenue as well. I resorted to looking out the window. It was raining.  I could make out that there was a strong wind blowing from the way the trees were moving. I saw some headlights but couldn’t make out if they were from a car or a tractor. Eventually, I grew tired of looking out into the darkness and decided to call it a night. The time was almost 2 a.m.

When I woke up the next morning, I had almost reached Kolkata. The weekend which followed was refreshing.  I caught a train the night of 28^th July for Bhubaneswar, my second train journey alone…

We Shall Overcome - He Did

What do you do when you have to face the pains of your past on your path to redemption? In Milkha Singh's life, the only option was to tackle it head-on and come out a stronger man.
Leading the race at the Rome Olympics, 1960, Milkha Singh made the mistake of turning back to look at his competitors. With that went his chances of winning, as he was overtaken by Otis Davis, Carl Kaufmann and Malcolm Spence. The headlines the in the newspaper the following day went something like 'Milkha Singh - The Great Indian Tragedy...' and many others. Ironically, the first four finishers all broke the World Record in that race. The movie revolves around the reasons surrounding his unexpected hesitation at the end of the race on that fateful day.
The first half of the movie is a tad slow, showcasing everything from Singh's childhood, to him as a young adult to his days in the army. Everything is inter-woven into a mesh, jumping from one part of the flashback to the next, explaining and connecting various stages of his life with each other. The camera-work and often wacky frames are a delight. The use of slow-motion, while very apt and effective for the races, becomes a bit repetitive when used for nearly all aspects of his life. His fledgling love affair with Sonam Kapoor's character, her initial distaste and eventual reciprocation are shown with just the right amount of comedy and playfulness. Unfortunately, Sonam Kapoor once again comes up short in what can be called a glorified cameo. While she looks gorgeous, smiling and blushing at the right moments, her acting and dialogue delivery remains iffy. The music for the movie is peppy and keeps the spirit up through much of it. A cameo by Loy as a singer in a night-club brings smiles.
The movie picks up steam at the end of the first-half with Milkha Singh being selected for the national team after a near-impossible fight against adversity. The scene where he returns home after selection, and the interaction with his sister, played by Divya Dutta, is one which will pull at the heart-strings. It is a shame that Divya Dutta gets cast in such bit-part roles when she is quite capable of pulling off much better roles. Infact, there are many accomplished performances in supporting roles, notably of Pawan Malhotra as Milkha's coach in the Army and Yograj Singh as his coach in the National team. A special mention for the young actor who plays Milkha as a child needs to be made here. Another touching scene is his return to his Army division after winning numerous races : he puts his medals around Pawan Malhotra's character's neck, as a gesture of thanks. Needless to say, he is the toast of the town at this point.
After this comes the disappointment of Rome. Eventually, Milkha gets his chance at redemption at the Friendship Games in Pakistan just following the 1960 Olympics. There, he finally puts his demons of the Partition in his past once and for all. Adding to that, he earns his famous nickname 'The Flying Sikh', from a comment made by General Ayub Khan, the leader of Pakistan at that time. The quote at the end of the movie is worth remembering for everyone. I will not spoil it here. Go see it for yourselves.
If there is just one reason you'd need to watch this movie, it's Farhan Akhtar all the way. The effort he put into building himself up for the role is evident. At no point in the movie would you feel that he does not belong on the track. From the peppy tracks to the emotional turmoil of a much travelled athlete, Farhan pulls off one of his best performances.
A movie definitely worth watching. Go catch it with friends :-)

My rating : 8/10

The CAT, the Bell and the X

It all started almost exactly a year ago, when I started preparing for MBA entrance exams. Initially, there was no intention of joining a B-school in 2013. "My target is to join one in 2014", I used to say to people, "This year is just for practice". As the days progressed, with a lot of encouragement from a certain special someone, I started making good progress, and somewhere along the journey, I said to myself, "What the heck, I should just give it my best shot". On the day of the exam, I was astonishingly calm, composed and too early to the exam center(:-P). That shows some nerves, doesn't it? The exam went surprisingly well, but I didn't get my hopes up so early. I mean come on, studying just 4 months for CAT and cracking, you have got to be kidding me. Well the day of the results came, and I was as surprised as the rest of my family, 94.48, not too bad. Still, I kept my excitement to a bare minimum. Then the call for IIM Shillong came in, and I said to myself, "Hang on, this could really work out." The call from X came in as well, with me just clearing all cut-offs marginally(phew!). The GD and interviews went like a blur. I came out satisfied, but still not convinced. Finally, on the day of the results, there came great Hope, 'Wait-listed for PGDM, ND-76'. 'Pagalguy' had told me this should easily clear. And it did, eventually. The final call came on Friday, 24th May. I resigned the following Monday after much negotiations with my manager. Packed and caught a train on 9th June. Reached here on 10th morning.

My Hostel at X

So here I was, my first time away from home. My first would-be experience in a hostel. Meeting new people, making new friends, getting to know them, all seemed a part of this new journey. And then there was the campus - expansive, green and full of life. The first week flew past before I even realized it. There were welcomings, faculty interactions, do's and don'ts, group activities, interactive sessions and a some things more. Classes have already started...

Our Pledge

I've played more sports here in the past 2 weeks than I'd done in the past 2 years, met more people and made more friends in the past 2 weeks than the past 2 years, gotten used to a new way of life in 2 weeks which I'd never been accustomed to before. Another thing, scored my first goal playing football in X yesterday, cheers to that...

Second Hand

A long time ago, a certain Ayn Rand wrote an in-your-face, blatantly honest, thought provoking novel by the name of 'The Fountainhead'. In it, the protagonist, a self-proclaimed egotist, lives his life and works his profession in the only way he knew how, in his own terms. He is not open to borrowing ideas, not keen on accepting changes to his plans, and in general not in favour of most of the compromises people make to 'gel' with society. He says that every person has a brain of his own, to use on his own. A group can come up with a joint solution, but each person comes up with their own idea, using their own thought process, from which a decision is made. He says further that everyone who has ever made a great discovery or invention has not done it for others, but to get an end result to his own creative thought. From collegiate life to professional life, he is generally hated for his lack of social ethos. Infact, people are afraid of him. People are afraid of him succeeding. They are perhaps afraid that their otherwise slovenly world would suddenly have meaning, make sense. This fear can be attributed to man's general intolerance towards change. 'Let things be as they are...' is much easier to say and to do than 'Let me try something new today...' or asking the simple question 'Why?'. 'Why does it happen this way? Is this the only possible solution? Can't I come up with something better?'. When was the last time you asked those questions?
Though Ayn Rand wrote this book almost three quarters of a century ago, it is more than relevant today. If somebody at office tells you,"There is no need to think about the way you do your programs, just follow the way it's been done in the existing ones. There is a shortage of time and we can't afford experiments. There is no need for you to put new inputs into this." And to top it off, this was supposed to be my 'learning' for that day! Whatever Miss Rand wrote all those years ago, I could hear them resonating in my head that day. There is a serious shortage of independent thinking. The worse part is I'm starting to fear that I'd lose that ability myself trying to be professional. There are very few corporate organisations who give independent thinking a fair chance. Everyone else is just running the rat-race. Onward Ho!!