Of Men and their vices …

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In my early years in school, we once had Uncle Tom’s Cabin (an anti-slavery novel by American author Harriet Beecher Stowe) as the prescribed text in Reading Comprehension. Then I was too young to comprehend the significance of this prose in its entirety. But the characters like Uncle Tom and Eliza did leave a mark on an impressionable mind.

Today I watched 12 Years a Slave on the big screen. Ironically this comes in the aftermath of the merciless killing of my brother and fellow Indian Nido Tania in the nation’s capital just because he looked Different. I couldn’t but help wonder about the eerie similarity between what happened in Lajpat Nagar the other day and what happened to Solomon Northup in 1850s America. Both the incidents stemmed from a deeply prejudiced and racist society.

America had just come out of a bloody civil war and ABE LINCOLN had finally succeeded in granting the “Niggers” their freedom. But racial discrimination still continued as New York embraced all as equal but states like Washington D.C. and Georgia didn’t. This disparity continued till the Civil Rights Movement led by Dr. Martin Luther King finally helped America get rid of this racial bias. But as the popular serial Mad Men and The Help Movie show, bias was still prevalent and the process of abolishing this was painfully slow. Some might argue that this movement has come full circle with the U.S electing its first African-American president Barack Obama.

Well this movie tells the true story of Solomon, an erudite free citizen of Saratoga, New York , who is kidnapped and forced into slavery. What follows is an agonizing tale of indescribable suffering and ruthless oppression that these “slaves” were subjected to as Solomon becomes Platt, someone who is forced into believing that he is only meant to “serve”. When he finally attains freedom after 12 long years, Solomon decides to write a book on his ordeal and names it, “12 Years A Slave”.
I haven’t come across such a gritty and gut-wrenching cinematic depiction for a long time ( Schindler’s List maybe). But all through the film , my mind continued to veer towards that ghastly Delhi incident.

The time has come when we Indians should introspect. Something somewhere has gone terribly wrong. When someone ridicules the physicality of a fellow national, he is actually mocking the very idea of our nationhood which is (as much cliched that might sound) still “Unity in Diversity”. So the death of Nido is actually a body blow to the Idea of India.
The Economic Times did a front page article as recently as 25th Jan recounting the ordeal that Kim Barrington Narisetti, an African-American professional, who lived in New Delhi for nearly four years, had to experience. If we cannot confront this menace, we have no right to point fingers at other nations.

Solomon Northup and his legal counsel were unable to prosecute or have convicted the men responsible for his being sold into slavery. But America at least partially corrected its course when Dr.King’s (We have a) Dream was finally given the legislative push and segregation was abolished once and for all. The time has come when we Indians should stand up for our brothers and sisters in the North-East and say “Enough is Enough” before it is too late.

Say NO to RACISM, Say NO to PREJUDICE, Say NO to BIGOTRY and Say YES to the idea that is INDIA.

Mann se Ravan jo nikale, Ram uske mann mein hai ..

The Wolf of Wall Street – more flash than substance …

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“Greed is Good”, those were the exact words (now immortalized) which Michael Douglas taught a young Charlie Sheen in Oliver Stone‘s Wall Street. Ironically, Wall Street was released just before the October, 1987 US stock market crash. Incidentally, Martin Scorsese‘s The Wolf of Wall Street starts on that very same Black Monday when Leonardo DiCaprio‘s Jordan Belfort starts his first day as a stock broker, only to lose his job the same day.

This is an era where the world economy is still in the throes of a recession with Occupy Wall Street chants of “We are the 99%” protesting the “greed & corruption” that is allegedly all-pervasive in the financial services sector.

So what was Martin Scorsese thinking when he made this movie? If Gordon Gekko in Wall Street romanticized greed, the Wolf has INSTITUTIONALIZED the same. Sadly Scorsese’s latest venture lacks any depth at all. It is just 2 hours and 59 mins of a shameless display of greed, lust , debauchery of the highest order glorified to dizzying heights. In fact, in the course of watching it, I lost count of the number of times the f-word was used (Scarface™ has been put to shame here seriously). They must be gunning for the world record on this count. DiCaprio is magnificent as the millionaire fraudster as he virtually sleepwalks through the role as he has done so often in his previous avatars as The Great Gatsby or as Frank Abagnale in Steven Spielberg‘s Catch Me If You Can.

Mr. Scorsese, you have given us such cinematic gems like Taxi Driver, Raging Bull and The Departed, so we expect no less. The Wolf of Wall Street is supremely entertaining no doubt but the soul of the movie is sorely missing. Unfortunately, it is obnoxious, bordering on the level of unimaginable and shallow to the core. No attempt has been made to explore the psyche of those guilty of gross financial misdemeanours (read scams), filling their own coffers by duping the public of their hard-earned money by manipulating the system. Or what prompts someone as eminent as Mckinsey ex-director Rajat Gupta to fall prey to Insider Trading or for that matter for young bright investment bankers of Goldman Sachs to bet against the products it was selling to the customers. No serious effort has been mounted to delve into these grey areas. The black humour, the satire .. are strewn here and there but sadly overshadowed by the almost visceral treatment by the director. Ultimately what could have been a masterpiece, turns out to be just another heady cocktail of women, weed and of-course moolah.

For me, the only cinematic highlight of the film was the lunch conversation between Belfort and his charismatic boss Mark Hanna ( cameo played brilliantly by Matthew McConaughey of The Lincoln Lawyer & Mud The Movie fame) on the first day of his job where the protagonist is initiated into this world of white collar criminals with the hypnotic “Money Chant” while pounding his chest. Or to a little extent the last scene, where an out-of-prison Belfort teaches an eager audience (with the hope of earning the millions stamped across their impressionable faces) HOW to SELL at a seminar.

In Wall Street, Bud Fox clears his conscience by turning against his mentor Gordon Gekko, knowing fully well that he would be prosecuted for the illicit trades. Sadly there isn’t an iota of remorse anywhere to be found in the Wolf, which is an intoxicating but terribly hollow tale woven around the real-life story of a millionaire scamster.

I don’t want to play the Moral Brigade here. The Wolf of Wall Street is an exhilarating roller-coaster ride but lacking the cinematic soul that has been the hallmark of Scorsese’s past ventures.

The eyes had a feast but the mind is starved ..

Remembering Farooq Sheikh

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Ajeeb aadmi tha woh

Mohabbaton ka geet tha,
bagaawaton ka rang tha
Kabhi woh sirf phool tha,
kabhi woh sirf aag tha
Ajeeb aadmi tha woh.

The great Urdu poet Kaifi Azmi must have had someone like Farooq Sheikh in mind when he penned those words ..

In a decade, when mainstream Hindi cinema was on a downward spiral with outlandish plots and bawdy songs, Farooq Sheikh came as a breath of fresh air. He along with the likes of Amol Palekar & Ravi Baswani came to symbolize light-hearted, “middle-class” comedies, as the proverbial Mr. Nice Guy (remember Sai Paranjpye’s Chashme Buddoor, Hrishikesh Mukherjee’s Kissi Se Na Kehna and his amazing chemistry with Deepti Naval). He gave equally memorable performances as the disillusioned youth of post-partition India in M. S. Sathyu‘s Garm Hava (debut) & as the naive lover in Bazaar. And then there was this another facet of his acting, where he exuded the old world charm and tehzeeb of Lakhnavi / Awadhi royalty with elan, be it in Satyajit Ray‘s Shatranj Ke Khiladi or Muzaffar Ali’s Umrao Jaan. And all this while, he along with Shabana Azmi, continued to beguile theater lovers the world over with their enthralling performances in the two-act play Tumhari Amrita, the story of unrequited love, read out through reams of love letters between Amrita Nigam and Zulfikar Haider, exchanged over 35 years, starting with Amrita’s eighth birthday party, when she first wrote to the ten-year-old Zulfi.

Farooq Sheikh made an equally effortless transition to television as the sly, cynical & perennially dithering and indecisive minister in Ji Mantriji, an Indian adaptation of BBC’s Yes Minister or as the warm host who brought out the best in his celebrity guests in Jeena Issi Ka Naam Hai.

The last time I watched him on the big screen was in Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani in a short but sensitive role as Ranbir’s father, who lets his son live out his dreams. Sadly no more .. a man of abundant aptitude and fluent charm, always endearing to the eyes.

Dec 28th, 2013 is a historic day as AAP storms to power in the national capital but an equally sad day for the cinema buff and theater lover because the man who portrayed the Aam Admi with such subtlety and dignity, is no more. But his body of work remains for generations of cinema lovers to marvel on.

His was neither a short story nor a grand novella but a life lived in the moments.

Shayad, Jeena issi ka naam hai ….

Winter Wonderland !!

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Dot, dash, full stop …

Dot, dash, full stop …

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