tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60714519070706811892024-03-05T12:06:14.048-08:00The musings of my lazy, crazy mind..This, that and everything in between...Rahul MDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11448938920453501288noreply@blogger.comBlogger22125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6071451907070681189.post-70659491628637850892017-03-03T08:43:00.001-08:002020-01-23T10:09:31.008-08:00The art of misdirection - the Gurmehar Kaur debacle<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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With so much literature all over the place on Gurmehar Kaur,
#SaveDU and the #ProfileforPeace campaign she was part of; most of it polarized
one way or the other; it’s hard to ignore what is happening. Even though
I’m not very much up to date on current affairs, my Facebook news feed is
filled with so many posts either slamming Gurmehar or exalting her, I just had
to try and understand what the fuss is all about. And frankly, despite spending
some time researching the subject, I am none the wiser.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Don’t get me wrong – this particular issue does pose many
pertinent questions, which we will try and dive into momentarily. But what
really gets me confused is how no one is acknowledging the fact that this is
less about issues like free speech and patriotism/anti-nationalism, but more
about political opportunism from virtually every player involved. And that is
not something I care too much for.<o:p></o:p><br />
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Let’s recap what has been going on. Actually, let us start
with a prologue dating April 2016. Gurmehar Kaur was part of a video entitled
“Gurmehar Kaur Soldier of Peace” posted in the ‘Voice of Ram’ Youtube channel <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: red;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=97yJsfddi4w" style="background-color: yellow;" target="_blank">(Link to the video)</a><span style="background-color: white;">.</span></span><span style="color: red;"> </span>The video is 4 minutes 23 seconds long, and shows
Gurmehar holding a series of placards telling her story as the daughter of an
army man who passed away when she was two years old, and how her mindset
changed from hating all Pakistanis and Muslims, to someone who has given up
hatred and wants the Governments of both countries to find a resolution to put
an end to the bloodshed. We will dwell into specifics a little later, but this
is the gist of the video.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Fast forward into February 2017. Ramjas College, as part of
a two day seminar on “Culture of Protest”, invited two speakers – Umar Khalid
and Shehla Rashid, students of Jawaharlal Nehru University (JNU). Members of
Delhi University Students Union and Akhil Bharatiya Vidyarthi
Parishad (ABVP) gathered outside the college and shouted slogans demanding
the invite to the “anti-nationals” be cancelled (Umar Khalid was arrested on
sedition charges by the Delhi police in February 2016 and subsequently released
on bail, while Shehla Rashid led the agitation for the release of him and
others arrested). There were also allegations of stone pelting, locking of the
seminar room and cutting off of electricity by the ABVP members, but police
claimed there was no violence. So to protest the alleged violence and the
restriction on the speakers, the #SaveDU campaign was launched – of which
Gurmehar Kaur became the face. Her protest placard read “I am a student from
Delhi University. I am not afraid of ABVP. I am not alone. Every student of
India is with me. #StudentsAgainstABVP”. And this caused a shitstorm of tweets,
Facebook posts, open letters, protest marches, political statements, news
items, editorials, and even Facebook emoji opinion polls.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The Ramjas College issue itself isn’t especially unique – it
is pretty similar to the Milo Yiannopoulos – UC Berkley riots, where hundreds
of protesters rioted against the event involving the controversial speaker,
leading to the event being cancelled (not to mention the huge property loss). <span style="background: yellow; color: red;"><a href="http://edition.cnn.com/2017/02/01/us/milo-yiannopoulos-berkeley/" target="_blank">(Link to the news article)</a></span>. It seems to be more of a law and order issue – people do have
the right to protest <u>peacefully</u> and if there is violence involved the
police need to intervene. I don’t know how the permissions and stuff work, but
I guess this is the basic deal. Just as this applies to ABVP and their allies,
it also applies to their opposition – in this case National Students Union of
India (NSUI), the #SaveDU campaign and others.<o:p></o:p></div>
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This would ideally not be something that causes a national
outrage, right? It’s pretty regular student politics. Things took a weird turn
when the video from April 2016 gets mixed with Gurmehar’s protest in February
2017. I wasn’t able to figure out how it started, but one frame of the video,
where she holds up a placard saying “Pakistan did not kill my dad, war killed
him”, started doing the rounds and that’s how public interest got drummed up.
You have to admire the genius behind it, really – a single frame of a video
which isn’t even related to the issue at hand is taken and portrayed as the
real issue, thus letting ABVP and politicians (both for and against) piggyback
on it to generate nationalist and uber-patriotic wave among anyone who takes a
look. I mean, honestly, how many people really research what they see anyway
(besides jobless idiots like me)? And it’s really easy to paint any
disagreeing voice with the anti-national and un-patriotic brush when such a
statement is in question.<o:p></o:p></div>
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When only one frame in an almost five minute video is taken
under scrutiny, it shouldn’t take a genius to realise that there is more to it
than meets the eye. But this one frame has got so much hate and misguided
support – I happened to read one of the open letters written, as well as some
of the tweets against her. It’s pretty evident that none of them have seen the
whole video. I don’t expect many others have seen the full video either – even
though it is not a correct barometer to judge given the multiple avenues
available, the original Youtube video has only 198,154 views as of writing this
post.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I saw the video in 2016 when someone forwarded it to me,
well before the controversy. So I do have an objective standpoint to view it
from – how I perceived it when I saw it then. It seemed unambiguous enough at
the time – it was a plea to both Indian and Pakistani governments to stop
pretending and take some serious actions towards resolving their differences
and ushering in an era of peace. I believe the placard that sums up her video
more accurately is not the one that is being flashed all over the place, but
the one that says “Majority of regular Indians and Pakistanis want peace, not
war”. Call me naïve, but I believe that statement to be true (and if it weren’t,
I sincerely feel there would be no hope for humanity). Even ‘gormint aunty’ is
more concerned about the state of politics in her country, and probably doesn’t
harbour any negative feelings for India (if you don’t know who gormint aunty
is, please find out – and thank me later). There is nothing anti-national in
her video, neither anything that undermines the sacrifices made by the Indian
army. She asks for a stop in state-sponsored terrorism as well, among other
things. What is so anti-national and offensive about that? In all honesty, it
is just a version of “Aman ki Aasha”. I didn’t see anything that indicated
someone whose mind was polluted. But maybe I’m too slow. Could she have worded
her comment on war killing her father better? Maybe – but then again, she was
19 years old. How smart were you when you were 19? Her point was simple –
it wasn’t all of Pakistan but the Government and politicians who started the
war who killed her father. If it was such a problematic thought to have, why
didn’t it receive any backlash immediately?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7WVur3BRAe7qkDDqxSmMRksGZIykhUTj39YMbLU_8vYIs-9bf8sJOhP31_rAUeHrXFQK8XSOpUep2YIuViqF5GS5p6gIvg-ZbxtLMj9FgUbnuvuJGO4ppP9zec0dICHp6Pqn02pz9e1o/s1600/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="175" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7WVur3BRAe7qkDDqxSmMRksGZIykhUTj39YMbLU_8vYIs-9bf8sJOhP31_rAUeHrXFQK8XSOpUep2YIuViqF5GS5p6gIvg-ZbxtLMj9FgUbnuvuJGO4ppP9zec0dICHp6Pqn02pz9e1o/s320/1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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One of the tweets that garnered a lot of attention is the
tweet from Virender Sehwag. Sehwag held a placard saying “I didn’t score two
triple centuries, my bat did”. Whether that is funny or not is a matter of
personal taste, but a more accurate analogy would have been “I didn’t score a
triple century against Pakistan, I scored it against the Pakistan Cricket team”
(kinda takes the zing out of it though). But that is an important distinction.
All the other joke tweets, memes etc. try to put across that people can absolve
responsibility for their actions by blaming their tools. On the contrary,
Gurmehar, in my opinion, was concentrating the responsibility on those really
responsible – not the soldiers, but the Governments. Sehwag, like many others, completely missed
Gurmehar’s point.<o:p></o:p></div>
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But, and I may be alone in this, I don’t think Sehwag meant
to troll Gurmehar – Sehwag has been known to take jibes at everyone on Twitter,
so it was nothing more. What he did on Saqlain Mushtaq’s birthday could be
considered far worse. I think Gurmehar should be thick-skinned enough to take
the joke. And also, freedom of expression, right? The same rights that Gurmehar
has also apply to Sehwag. The one I really feel sorry for is Randeep Hooda –
all he did was appreciate Sehwag’s joke. And now he is also being accused of
trolling Gurmehar. If even a hint of criticism against Gurmehar is taken as a
vicious attack on her, how are the liberal flag bearers any different that the
ABVP? I think among the many, the one I want to really address is Javed Akhtar
– it was a cheap shot to take by targeting their education, sir. They have done
our country proud in their respective fields, and even now are doing no more
than expressing themselves. You may be passionate on the subject, but you are
behaving no better than a troll – and a hypocrite as well, undermining the very
thing you are supposedly fighting for. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The real trolls in this situation are the politicians, who
have made Gurmehar an unwitting pawn in their game. It is them and their
minions who have forced Gurmehar to back off, not Virender Sehwag and Randeep
Hooda. Both the people who exalted her to promote their own political agenda,
as well as those who mocked and berated her for the same reason – they are the
real villains in this story. And honestly, no one in this is patriotic. I
believe it is more an anti-national act to threaten rape and murder of someone
just because they have a different opinion (even though it is "alleged", I don’t
doubt that it is true). <o:p></o:p></div>
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This really shouldn’t be rocket science – this is an issue
of student politics which has taken on national scope, thanks to the media and
our politicians. At the heart of it, it is all about law and order. Everyone has
a right to express their opinion, within the confines of the law. There should
be a clear definition of what sedition means. Also, if the allegations of the
threats of rape and murder against Gurmehar are true, the culprits should be
punished. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">At the end of it all, all this is just a magic trick – the art
of misdirection perfected. I just end up hating our politicians all the more. Seems
to me that Gurmehar became an unwitting pawn in all of this; just because she
was the face of the protest. I also hate the general public (celebrities
included), who swallow anything fed to them without attempting to find out the
whole story, and jump onto the bandwagon to showcase their hypocrisy by taking
one side without listening to the other – so much for the argumentative,
rational Indian. And once again, I hate the media for their cheap
sensationalism in covering the whole thing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">As an Indian and as a human, irrespective of how
I feel about her political views, I can’t help but feel for Gurmehar – I hope
she stays safe, and can put all of this behind her.</span></span></div>
Rahul MDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11448938920453501288noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6071451907070681189.post-89886461403848827802017-02-09T09:44:00.000-08:002017-02-09T09:44:07.663-08:00What the gym and Game of Thrones taught me about fraternity<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">I recently started going to
the gym in my office again. And I observed something common between people who
go to the gym and people who watch Game of Thrones. Actually that’s misleading (though
it’s a catchy idea) – what I noticed is something that is common to most fraternities,
if not all. My recent visits to the gym have been met with a lot of enthusiasm
from other friends from work who are regulars at the gym. They offer
suggestions on correct postures, politely exaggerate my achievements, give pep
talks and generally “have my back”.</span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">I observed the same
phenomenon when I started watching Game of Thrones, and it was even more
evident when I started reading the books. The fans of the show/books in your
friend circle are all excited when you start watching or reading, and they are
always there if you want to get into discussions (which is inevitable). But the
greatest proof of fans watching out for one of their own is the policing around
plot spoilers. The number of forums dedicated to the show and books are insane,
but despite so many avenues, the amounts of spoilers that come out are
surprisingly low (especially given that there are so many things to spoil). And
it isn’t that this just happens – almost all content on analysis of the books
or show comes with more than adequate spoiler warnings.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">There have been other
instances earlier in my life as well. When I was an article assistant for an
audit firm, I had to travel to Mumbai by train. Towards the end of my already
long and quite uncomfortable journey, I had to take a local to reach the hotel.
My colleague and I didn’t find a seat right away and we were standing as
the train groaned into motion. But almost soon after, a person got up from his
seat and offered it to me saying “I guess you are new to the city. Take a seat –
be comfortable.” (I guess my bags and “somebody kill me” expression gave it
away). A few others nodded sympathetically and started shuffling to make way
for me to take off my backpack and sit. Taken aback and a bit unsure of how to
receive this generosity, I first offered the seat to an older gentleman who was
standing near to me. He waved me away, and my saviour told me “Don’t worry – he’ll
get a seat. You sit down”; and proceeded to almost forcefully plonk me onto the
seat. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">When I was a college
student in Chennai, I enrolled for CA classes at the prestigious Prime Academy.
The institute, famous for its brilliant faculty and its status as temple of CA
learning, is also notorious for its early morning classes. Without a vehicle, I
had to wake up before dawn and walk two kilometres to catch a bus and get to
class barely on time if I was lucky. And all that effort would earn me a
miniscule portion of a bench in the last row, where I could precariously rest
half a butt cheek. I gave up after two days. A few days later, a classmate at college
who also attended classes at the academy came up to me and casually enquired on
my absence. I told him my situation, and he instantly offered to pick me up. He
waved away my protests with a simple “Your place is on my way to class – it’s
no trouble.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">I know that the examples I
have given aren’t formal fraternities (though they fit the bill), and that this
behaviour is expected in a fraternity – in fact it should be its defining
feature. But when I hear about the kind of horrors one has to go through to get
into an actual college fraternity in many places, and the continued abuse they
face to stay in, I’m not so sure. There are assholes in every group, but I have
had mostly positive experiences and I am grateful for it. And I don’t want to
get political, but the idea of fraternity is slowly getting a lot of hate
around the world; which seems to be leaning towards cliques not so slowly but
oh-so surely. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">I guess I’m just trying to
point out the lasting need for fraternity, and that a few seemingly small acts
of kindness can leave a lasting impression. Or maybe I’m just trying to thank
the nice guys who made me feel welcome in an uncertain time and place. Or maybe
I wanted to brag about going to the gym (however briefly). Either way, thought
I should put this out there.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><b><u>P.S.</u></b></span><span style="background: white; font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"> Harish, if you are reading this, I am forever
grateful for the bike rides to class. Without knowing it, you made a CA out of
me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Rahul MDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11448938920453501288noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6071451907070681189.post-70149108420394190632016-10-06T10:57:00.000-07:002016-10-06T10:59:58.994-07:00The Art of War - Is the call for a ban on Pakistani artistes justified?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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In the wake of the recent tensions between India and
Pakistan, there has been a lot of debate around the ban on Pakistani artistes
in India. I wanted to share my two cents on the issue. Though this has
been a largely emotional issue, I wanted to try and take an objective view of
the issue (as much as possible).<o:p></o:p></div>
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I enjoyed Fawad Khan’s performance in ‘Kapoor and Sons’, I
am an admirer of Rahat Fateh Ali Khan’s and Adnan Sami’s creations (not to
mention the late Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan), and ‘Khuda Ke Liye’ was a movie that
really moved me. And these are just a few examples. Of course, Pakistani
artistes have contributed a lot to Indian cinema and music. To argue that India
hasn’t gained by the inflow of talent from Pakistan would be a lie, or at least
an act of denial. And this is not just restricted to Pakistan – there are many
Indian movies that boast of talent from abroad, both in front of and behind the
camera. Art flourishes from the mixture of varying influences, cultures and
experiences, and in an ideal world, any sort of restrictions would only hinder
it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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That being said, a reality check may be in order here. We
are not in an ideal world. The on-and-off relationship between India and
Pakistan is now tense, thanks to the recent Uri attacks and the retaliatory
surgical strikes by India. In such a situation, is it really wrong to ask that
a ban on Pakistani actors be imposed?<o:p></o:p></div>
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There are certain aspects that I do not want to address. The
almost adamant refusal by Pakistani actors to condemn or even comment on the
terror attacks, in a country where they are earning their livelihood and for
whose hospitality they have showered praises for on many occasions, is shocking.
That being said, it is their personal decision (whether under the influence of political
pressure or not, I do not know). Also, the various opinions of celebrities that
have been doing the rounds of social media, and the varying responses in
support of, or opposing those statements, are nothing more than personal
opinions. So, in my opinion, trying to analyse the Twitter posts and interview
responses of celebrities does not amount to anything. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Instead, it would be interesting to look at what is achieved
by things like bans on actors, cancelling music concerts, stopping sporting
events, etc. There is no doubt that this will not resolve the issues between
the two countries. In fact, many Indian people would suffer losses on account
of this on account of cancelled shows and matches, unfinished projects,
inability to meet professional commitments, just to name a few. And of course,
none of this changes the ground realities of the soldiers who put their lives
at risk to defend our nation. So why do it?<o:p></o:p></div>
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For one, there is the obvious emotional element. The show of
solidarity to the cause of the nation. I have no reason to believe that
Pakistani actors and sportspersons are not good people, but this isn’t about
that. Even the soldiers on both sides do not have any personal enmity against
each other. Though this may be a misplaced idea, and targeting a few Pakistani
celebrities wouldn’t have any direct impact, it definitely sends a message. As
long as India ensures their safety and does not treat them unfairly or with
disrespect, I think there is no real moral high ground lost. But again, this is
not something that can be imposed as it would be coercive and more of a ‘forced
volunteering’.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Another aspect to consider here is money. There is no doubt
that both Bollywood and cricket are two of India’s biggest industries in terms
of money. So any move to boycott Pakistani actors and cricket matches would
hurt Pakistan financially. And such a boycott or ban would not be unlike the
sanctions that are imposed on nations that threaten the sovereignty of other
nations. This is one of the main reasons why over the years, there has been a
lot of emphasis by Pakistan to keep sports and arts separate from bilateral
talks.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Perhaps the most important aspect of all is the influence
that India exercises in the world through Bollywood and cricket. In his TED
talk on ‘Why nations should pursue “soft” power’, Shashi Tharoor talks about
how the view of people around the world on India has changed over the years, in
no small part due to the reach of Bollywood across geographies. The same can be
said of cricket. Also, the influence of Bollywood on the world in terms of the
perception of India cannot be denied. Pakistan no doubt understands this – why else
ban the M.S. Dhoni movie? M.S. Dhoni has a lot of fans in Pakistan. Though I haven’t
seen it, I’m sure the movie does not have a jingoistic agenda – there is no
real reason for the movie to be banned in Pakistan, except to hurt Bollywood
financially and more importantly to reduce its influence in the country. I
think India can send a very strong message by banning Pakistani “imports” in
arts and sports – arguably as strong a message as the surgical strikes. This is
not meant to be disrespectful, but just a recognition of the power of the soft
skills of India as a nation. While international terror attacks like the Paris
attacks were talked about and condemned all over social media by posts, hashtags
and slogans; the major dialogue on the Uri attacks has come through discussions
and debates on the surgical strikes and the ban on Pakistani actors. The world
political situation is such that terrorist attacks on India don’t seem to get the
same reaction from the world audience as a Paris attack. So, India has to
ensure that its voice is heard through different means. And Bollywood and
sports are really potent weapons in India’s arsenal.<o:p></o:p></div>
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That being said, as a nation, we should be careful about how
we approach this situation. A diktat by the MNS without any backing by the
government, forcing Pakistani actors to leave the country and making them feel
they are not safe in India would not be the right way to go about it. It would
be far better (though I’m not sure how practical it would be) if the government
through an appropriate body arranges for Pakistani actors’ safe return to
Pakistan. The tirade of hate from many fronts on this issue is not helping our
cause, and we must show a dignity in our reaction to the entire situation.<o:p></o:p></div>
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These are times of war, and there should be no requirement
by India to act against its interests in the name of acceptance. We must
preserve our interests as a nation first. But, most importantly, we must do it
in a manner that is true to our nature and maintains the high standards of conduct
India has in world diplomacy.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Rahul MDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11448938920453501288noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6071451907070681189.post-85721114297994910562016-09-15T13:00:00.000-07:002016-09-15T21:32:52.264-07:00News outlets and facts - A Divorced Couple<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I was recently watching a video posted by Youtuber “Nerdwriter1”
(someone whose content I highly recommend) on how fact checking can be used as
a tool by news anchors and debate moderators while reporting/moderating the
presidential race and the upcoming debates (<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hBweUnkfQ2E" target="_blank">click here to see</a>). </div>
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One crucial sentence in the video grabbed
my attention - “But what are news organizations if not truth squads? Free
people the world over still care about facts; and we look to our news media to
sort through bullshit and lies to find them.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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Though the video wasn’t related to it, this made me question
the validity of the statement in the context of news media as a reliable source
of factual information. Do we really believe the news that is presented to us
today? If so, is that a reasonable assumption to make? Or should we take
everything with a pinch of salt, and recheck every story across sources?
Unfortunately, from an Indian perspective, there have been numerous instances
in the recent past that have given the lie to the statement that news media
outlets (NMOs) can be relied on to provide accurate information; or even be
expected to do basic fact checking before reporting on something. This is
definitely the case for television and social media, where the ‘instant’ factor
is the key USP.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Let us start with what is perhaps one of the most basic and
shocking errors in news reporting – EVER! The below picture has been doing the
rounds on social media.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiStTgJjKDVdlEK1J6RC_56ISbWyxxlUTjipJ7YiupC0eSkM880pBnhuK0xOJIVUW6cDDY7u6GJ6WVrPM9NnKbcD9FiPJG-H6Rnqv663lG55VpCW7RH5K1_au2pSe5s_5eagGXz9T8VbMM/s1600/IMG-20160913-WA0007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiStTgJjKDVdlEK1J6RC_56ISbWyxxlUTjipJ7YiupC0eSkM880pBnhuK0xOJIVUW6cDDY7u6GJ6WVrPM9NnKbcD9FiPJG-H6Rnqv663lG55VpCW7RH5K1_au2pSe5s_5eagGXz9T8VbMM/s320/IMG-20160913-WA0007.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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ABP News stated that the Cauvery water dispute is between
Bengaluru and Karnataka! For anyone with even a basic knowledge of Indian
geography, or even current affairs, would spot the mistake right away – and we’re
talking about a news organization here! Now, if they had taken even a few
seconds to just proof read what was going to be printed on screen, a lot of
public bashing on Facebook and WhatsApp could have been avoided. Of course, it’s not like most of our NMOs
are capable of feeling embarrassment, so I guess they wouldn’t care anyway. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Funnily enough, I was trying to find some kind of
confirmation this story was true since I had only seen pictures which could
have been easily doctored – unlike our NMOs, I felt the urge to fact check
before putting something out there. And the beauty of it is; I found it on ABP
News’s own YouTube channel – <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QAgfJXBXugw" target="_blank">click here to see</a>. 8:44 of the video has it for
all to see. I wish I could say that I was surprised the video is still there,
but I am not. <o:p></o:p></div>
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In the above example, there are no real victims (except for
ABP News and common sense). We can just laugh it off as a display of utter
stupidity. But let’s take another example where the stakes are a little bit
higher. I was reading an article about how actor Randeep Hooda corrected NDTV
journalist Sunetra Choudhury, who tweeted about alleged rapes in Haryana (<a href="http://tagtub.com/randeep-hooda-rectifies-ndtv-journo/" target="_blank">click to read</a>). She also made certain inciting statements on Kashmir, but let us
ignores that. The fact that she didn’t actually accept her error (forget
apologize for it), but instead tried to sidestep it by showering praise on the
actor’s awareness is especially disturbing. Indian journalists have a very
bad track record of accepting their mistakes. Even
if we were to ignore that, it is a worrying sign for Indian journalism that a
journalist, whose job it is to state facts, is corrected on factual information
where there is no room for misinterpretation or judgement. <o:p></o:p></div>
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But there have been far more severe cases, where the lack of
basic fact checking (forget investigative journalism) has damaged someone’s
reputation. Out of the many examples, let me talk about two instances. I’ll
start with the now (in)famous “Rohtak bravehearts” (<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rohtak_sisters_viral_video_controversy" target="_blank">Link to the Wikipedia page on the issue.</a>) A video showing two sisters beating three young men with a belt who
allegedly harassed them was prominently displayed across all NMOs (I unfortunately
don’t remember who started it), and a lot of people saw it as an instance of
the abused females standing up against their male abusers and a milestone in
women’s liberation. Of course, everyone was too busy celebrating the bravery of
the girls to hear the other side of the story. The events were questioned only
when a second video of them thrashing another guy surfaced. Since then, there has
been an investigation, multiple witnesses have come forward giving a completely
contradictory story, and even lie-detector tests have been conducted. I haven’t
been able to find anything on the current status of things (which is
of course not surprising since follow up on news by our media is unheard
of). As such I cannot comment either way on who was in the wrong here. If only
our NMOs could also shows such restraint. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The other example I wanted to talk about is the Jasleen Kaur
case. This is where Jasleen Kaur accused Sarabjit Singh of harassing her at a
traffic signal in Delhi. She posted his picture and described the event on
Facebook, after which it was picked up by the media and sensationalized, not
surprisingly only looking at one side of the story. Sarabjit Singh was harassed
in return, not only by the public playing judge, jury and executioner; but also
by news channel Times Now. This story ends on a positive note though – Times Now
has been told to issue an apology and pay a fine for its reportage in this case
by the News Broadcasting Standards Authority (<a href="http://www.firstpost.com/india/times-now-told-to-apologise-for-jasleen-kaur-story-all-media-houses-should-take-note-2677810.html" target="_blank">Link to the news article</a>). Though
it may not be enough to compensate Sarabjit for the trauma he went through, we
can atleast hope that this would deter NMOs from irresponsible journalism.
Though the cynic in me knows this will not happen. If you’re wondering as to
what Times Now did that caused a slap on the wrist, just watch <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bk2bCD04OVY" target="_blank">the linked video</a>, which shows Times Now reporter Pooja Shali bullying and harassing
Sarabjit. (<a href="https://www.blogger.com/%3Ciframe%20src=%22https://www.facebook.com/plugins/post.php?href=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.facebook.com%2Frahulmd1%2Fposts%2F10152990335817026&width=500%22%20width=%22500%22%20height=%22443%22%20style=%22border:none;overflow:hidden%22%20scrolling=%22no%22%20frameborder=%220%22%20allowTransparency=%22true%22%3E%3C/iframe%3E" target="_blank">I had commented on this on Facebook linking the video on Times Now’s YouTube channel where they boasted on Pooja’s ‘brave’ journalism, but unlike ABP News, they had the sense of removing the video.</a> However, we live in the
world of the internet, and what is dead may never die.)<o:p></o:p></div>
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All of these are clear cases of irresponsible journalism. I have
purposely focused only on reporting news without checking facts, and avoided
topics like <o:p></o:p></div>
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<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><span style="font-family: "symbol"; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Journalists playing judge, jury and executioner
and basically labelling suspects as criminals (Times Now labelled Sarabjit “the
pervert”), influencing ‘the court of public opinion’</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "symbol"; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Journalists who focus on a single agenda and
cannot look beyond it, thereby losing the ability to on anything objectively and
the right to preach ‘journalistic integrity’ (the main reason for the term ‘presstitutes’
being coined, used and abused in social media)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "symbol"; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">The priorities of NMOs focusing on attention
grabbing headlines and news items of little or no value over real news (the
woefully late coverage of the recent Chennai floods is a case in point)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "symbol"; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">The mad dash to report any and every development
as an exclusive, and present facts without any substantive evidence (the coverage
of the Indrani Mukerjea case)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "symbol"; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">The propensity of NMOs to sensationalize topics
and try to sway public opinion (<a href="https://www.scoopwhoop.com/inothernews/shameontimesnow/#.elg4v90s6" target="_blank">Times Now’s coverage of India’s loss to Australiain the 2015 World Cup, which was met with widespread criticism</a>)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "symbol"; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Journalists not apologizing for mistakes made,
or burying it under other stuff so that no one notices</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "symbol"; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Irresponsible coverage of events like the Mumbai
terror attacks and Pathankot terror attacks, where the coverage was akin to
army secrets being leaked to terrorists (<a href="http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/city/mumbai/26/11-attack-Media-pulled-by-Supreme-Court-for-its-role/articleshow/16054201.cms" target="_blank">the Supreme Court pulled up media for its reporting of the Mumbai attacks</a>)</span></li>
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Despite not touching on far more serious topics, I think it’s
clear to see the sorry state our NMOs are in. To be fair, this isn’t an epidemic
exclusive to India. And you cannot paint all journalists with the same brush.
But that doesn’t make it less disturbing. While many other problems can be
attributed to a shift in the way the role of journalists is perceived and the
important of allegiances in our cruel world, the examples I have mentioned are
clear misses. Nothing to be debated there. Fact checking is probably the first (and
most important) rule of journalism. And the fact that pretty much all NMOs - in
their mad dash for ‘exclusives’ and TRPs - ignore it and don’t even care about
being wrong, is indicative of the fact that the rot has set in. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Shashi Tharoor put it very eloquently, as only he can. “Television
news in India, with far too many channels competing 24/7 for the same sets of
eyeballs and ratings, has long since given up any pretence of providing a
public service, with the "breaking news" story privileging sensation
over substance. (Indian TV epitomises the old crack about why television is
called a "medium": "Because it is neither rare nor well
done.")”<o:p></o:p></div>
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The recently released movie ‘Rustom’ showed how the media
had the power to influence a jury. The media does have great power to influence
public opinion, and more importantly, to bring about change (I’ve gotten tired
of hearing about the CNN IBN impact!!!). But, as Uncle Ben taught us, ‘with
great power comes great responsibility’. The fact that our NMOs are ignoring
their responsibility to report facts accurately, and at the same time boasting about
their power and journalistic integrity, shows the deep rooted hypocrisy in what
was once an esteemed profession. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I would like to conclude by appealing to our NMOs directly –
if you’re reading, please get your act together. A lot of people rely on you to
provide us a view of our city, our state, our nation and the world. I think we can wait a few minutes for you to
check your facts before splashing it all over the place as an "exclusive".</div>
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Rahul MDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11448938920453501288noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6071451907070681189.post-17205583470124599822016-03-26T05:14:00.000-07:002016-03-26T05:14:13.001-07:00Sleepless Night - Part 2<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="http://rahul-mohandas.blogspot.in/2016/03/sleepless-night.html" target="_blank">Link to part 1</a><br />
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After he had ridden for five minutes, Rajesh stopped the
bike and took out both phones he had on him. He was relieved to see that there
were no calls on either phone. He quickly turned off his phone and turned on
the GPS to check how long it would take him to get to Doddaballapur railway
station. He cursed when he saw that it would take him another one and a half
hours to reach there. He tried to memorize the route he needed to take and,
saying a silent prayer, put on the helmet and set off.<o:p></o:p></div>
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He had ridden for about twenty minutes, when the phone
started ringing. He ignored it and continued riding, wondering how long it
would be before they realized that he had stolen the phone and what they would
do next. He couldn’t care either way. It wasn’t until another ten minutes that
he was greeted with a sight that sent shivers down his spine.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The next roadblock in his path was just that – a roadblock.
He looked in horror as he saw policemen stopping every vehicle and checking for
cases of drunken driving. And there were already quite a few people whose
vehicle keys had been taken, desperately trying to negotiate with the police.
Rajesh knew that there was no way he would be allowed to pass given his
condition. He thought about turning back and finding another way, but he was on
the highway and couldn’t find any lanes to take a detour on. He contemplated
turning around, but a cop noticed him and blew on his whistle, indicating with
his hands to come for the inspection. Rajesh was sweating profusely under the
helmet. His mind racing, he slowly moved forward towards the cop.<o:p></o:p></div>
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As he was heading towards the policemen, he realized he had
no other option. He saw that the divider on the road was not in very good
condition, with several areas cracked creating small gaps. He knew that
people on bikes regularly used such cracks to get onto the other side of the
road rather than traveling long distances looking for a U-turn. He also knew
that right now, he had no other option. He turned the bike left and headed for
the divider. He picked up speed, trying not to think what would happen if he
was wrong.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The bike did a small jump as it hit a broken piece of the
divider. As the bike landed on the other side of the road, it swerved and
Rajesh nearly lost balance; but managed to steady it. He recovered quickly and
started speeding away. The cop, who was momentarily in a state of shock, now
started blowing his whistle. It took some time for the other policemen to
react. Rajesh kept looking to his side and he saw the entire scene unfold, almost
in slow-motion, as a lathi came hurling towards his front tyre. He swerved and
managed to miss it, turning around to see the pandemonium behind. He heard the
lathi clatter on the floor, and the cops hurling insults at him, as he turned
back ahead and saw the green liquid on the road. “Oh shit!”<o:p></o:p></div>
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The next few minutes were a blur. The bike skidded out of
control once the tyres touched the diesel. Rajesh desperately tried to control
it, but the bike fell over to the left and dragged him along for a bit, sparks
flying around. Once it stopped, Rajesh
pushed the bike up and wriggled out. Once free, he rolled away from the bike
and lay on the road, too shocked and tired to get up. He had barely caught his
breath when he was grabbed by the collar and hauled up. <o:p></o:p></div>
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“Get your helmet off!” yelled one of the cops. Rajesh
struggled to get the helmet off, mainly because the cops were holding onto his
hands to ensure that he wouldn’t get away. “Crazy idiot! Do you have any idea
what would have happened if the sparks had caused the diesel to catch fire??
And what would have happened if your accident was more severe?” Rajesh’s
Kannada speaking abilities were not the best, but he didn’t need a translator
to let him know just how angry the cops were. The policemen supported him, as
one of them checked him for injuries. “He’s badly hurt. He’s got serious
bruising near his left rib and on his elbows and knees. Lots of bleeding. His
clothes are torn in a number of places. But I don’t think we need to call an
ambulance.” The policemen tried to get him to sit down at the edge of the road,
but Rajesh shook his head vigorously. “Sir, please sir, emergency. I have to
go”, he pleaded in broken Kannada. The cops looked furious. “Where you’re going
is to jail. I’ve seen people do crazy things to avoid being caught driving
drunk, but this is too much. And you were crazy enough to drive so drunk – the
smell of booze is coming from your bones!” They dragged him unceremoniously to their
jeep, as the other drivers who had been caught and the two policemen who had
stayed behind looked on, some of them shaking their heads in disbelief.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Rajesh kept pleading with the policemen. “Sir, please let me
go. I have to leave sir. It’s a big emergency sir.” One of the policemen
slapped him on the back of the head. “Shut up! Or else I’ll make sure you are
the one who is sent to emergency. Gowda, put him in the jeep.” The other
policemen moved on to the others standing next to their vehicles, waiting to
try and negotiate their case. As Rajesh and the policeman walked towards the
jeep, the policeman asked him “Is there someone we can inform? Somebody that
you need to call?” Just as Rajesh shook his head, the phone in his pocked started
ringing. <o:p></o:p></div>
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“Answer the phone. Or wait, give me the phone. I will talk
to the person and ask them to pick you up.” Rajesh didn’t know what to do. If
the cop answered the phone, all hell would break loose. “No sir, leave it.”
“Hey, give me the phone man.” The cop tried to reach into Rajesh’s pocket and
take out the phone. A scuffle ensued between the two. Before Rajesh could
realize what was happening, he pushed the policeman onto the floor and started
kicking him. Rajesh then got on top of him and started punching him in the
face, breaking his nose. After a few punches, the policeman stopped
resisting as he was knocked out.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Rajesh got up, panicking. He had just assaulted a policeman.
But more importantly, he still had to get to Doddaballapur railway station. He
turned around, to see that none of the others had noticed what was happening.
He ran towards the last bike standing – the policemen still hadn’t gotten to
the driver. He caught the driver unawares and hurled him onto the floor. As he
got onto the bike, the other drivers tried to stop him. He struggled to push
them aside, shoving and kicking as he started the bike and revved the engine.
He sped off, weaving his way dodging those who tried to stop him, barely
escaping the many people trying to stop him. He dodged the roadblocks set and
sped off, away from the cacophony that he had created.</div>
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He had barely ridden for a few minutes when he heard the
incessant honking. He turned around to see the police jeep gaining on him. For
some reason, the cop driving had not turned on the siren. Rajesh was already
going as fast as he could – it wouldn’t take too long for the jeep to catch up
with him. He realized that his only option was to take the service road, and he
could see a break coming up ahead. He turned into the service road and took the
first lane into one of the streets, hoping he would be able to lose the jeep.<o:p></o:p></div>
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He rode around, trying to zig-zag through as many lanes as
possible in an attempt to avoid being found. He turned off the lights of the
bike, hoping that it would help to confuse the policeman further. He rode
around a little more, until he found a narrow path, strewn with garbage – he
could ride through that path to make sure the jeep would not be able to follow
him. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Rajesh now had to try and find the best possible way to get
to the railway station, without attracting the attention of the police. He was
in no doubt that they would be out looking for the bike, but he couldn’t think
of abandoning it. Once he got to the railway station, it wouldn’t matter
anyway. He took out the phone and tried to figure out an alternate route. As he
did, a white sedan came along slowly and stopped right next to him. The
driver’s window rolled down and the man inside looked at him calmly and said
“Get in.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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Rajesh hesitated for a moment. He had no idea who this man
was, or how he had managed to find him. But it didn’t matter – this man could
get him to the railway station, hopefully without any further incidents. Rajesh
got into the back seat and sat back, heaving a sigh of exhaustion, as the driver
started the car and drove off. He wanted to ask the driver who he was, and more
importantly why he hadn’t come to pick him up at the party itself, or even at
his home, but thought better of it. He tried to relax and not think about what
would happen once he got to the railway station. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The driver made good time, and it was forty five minutes
before he had stopped. Rajesh had spent the whole journey praying that Smriti
was alright. The driver turned around and said “The railway station is about a
kilometre from here. Just go down this road, take a right at the dead end and
keep going straight.” Rajesh nodded and got out of the car. As he walked off,
the driver turned the car around and drove away. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Rajesh ran to the railway station as fast as he could. He
reached to find the station empty. He ran around frantically, looking for
anybody. Two minutes later, he saw the man. Rajesh ran over to him and the man
held out his palm, ordering him to stop. He walked over to Rajesh and began
checking his pockets. He took out the two phones and pocketed them. “Come with me.”
Rajesh followed him without protest. They reached a small Maruti 800 and the
man got in, and beckoned Rajesh to get into the seat next to him. He got in,
and they drove off. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The Maruti 800 entered into the compound of what appeared to
be some kind of factory. Rajesh could see there were people standing guard near
the entrance, as his escort stopped the car and got out. As Rajesh got out of
the car, the fear that he had been trying to block out gripped him. What was
going to happen now? He followed the man without a word, while his mind was a
whirlwind of thoughts. They got into the building, where three men stood
waiting for him.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Rajesh now stood facing the three men. The man in the center
was like a giant, and fixed him with an angry glare. “So, at last you’re here.
So, do you know who I am?” asked the owner of the voice that had set off the
whole chain of events. The giant’s face screwed up in anger. Without warning,
he attacked Rajesh and pushed him to the floor. He started kicking him, venting
out his frustration. “Tell me, why did you do it? Who asked you to do it?” he
shouted as he kept kicking Rajesh in his ribs. Rajesh doubled up in pain as the
man hit him where we had been hurt from the accident. “I don’t know what
you are talking about!!” That was greeted with an even more aggressive assault
on him. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Rajesh was unable to resist the onslaught, and almost passed
out. Then, in an instant, everything changed. There was a loud bang, and his
assailant fell on top of him, lifeless. All of a sudden there was the sound of
gunfire everywhere. After a few moments, Rajesh, using all the strength he
could muster, pushed the giant away. One of the men who had been with the giant
ran over to him and dragged him away to a vantage point behind some machinery.
Rajesh felt he was in a dream, and he was constantly going in and out of
consciousness. After what seemed like an eternity, the gunfire stopped. His
saviour came over to him and helped him up. Leaning on his shoulder, Rajesh
limped out of his hiding spot. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As they got out of the factory, Rajesh saw Smriti sitting on
one side with a policeman. Relieved, he said a silent prayer of thanks. When
she saw him, Smriti ran over to him and gave him a hug. Ignoring the pain he
was in, he hugged her back. As he did, Rajesh saw the man who had saved his
life giving instructions to another policeman. The cop saluted him and rushed
away. In the distance, Rajesh could see the white sedan that had dropped him
off to the railway station. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Rajesh’s hero came over to him. “Hi, Mr. Rajesh. I am
Inspector Rudra. Sorry you had to go through all this trouble. But you have
just helped us take down one of the biggest players of the underworld. We tried
not to get you involved in all of this, but unfortunately things didn’t really
go as planned. Even tonight, it took us a while to come to your aid – by the
way really smart of you to keep the GPS on. We were able to track you once the
owner of the phone called and we were made aware of the entire incident. Add to
that all the confusion with the traffic police. It’s not very easy to coordinate
everyone at such short notice.” He gave an almost nervous laugh. “But I made
sure your wife was never in any kind of danger. We would have wanted to avoid
the whole thing altogether, but Murugappa was getting impatient. We just had to
put you through all this till we could get the force coordinated to carry out
this operation.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I really don’t understand what you are talking about. I’m
not even sure what I did. And what did this Murugappa have against me?” Rajesh
was completely confused, unable to understand what was going on. “Of course you
didn’t do anything – not willingly atleast. But inadvertently you got caught up
in our operation. Let’s just leave it at that. The less you know, the better it
is for you and for us.” Rajesh shook his head vehemently as all the frustration
he had came out now. “What do you mean? I want to know why my wife and I were
put at risk and subject to this kind of torture! I need an explanation for what
has just happened here!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Inspector Rudra’s face turned grave. “Listen Mr. Rajesh.
Murthy, the officer who got you here, will take you and your wife home. There
will be police protection for you till the time you leave for the U.S.
tomorrow, and even there we will have a word with the Consulate to keep an eye
on you. Murugappa does not have too many connections abroad as far as we know,
but just to be safe. Tomorrow morning, you will be taken to the station to
debrief on whatever has happened – we cannot give you many details. If you ask
me, let it go. There are some things that it’s better you don’t know about –
for your own good.” His tone was one that would not accept refusal.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Rajesh nodded slowly. There was probably no use pursuing
this further. He trusted the inspector on keeping them safe. “I assaulted a
policeman”, he said quietly. Inspector Rudra smiled slightly. “Yes, the traffic
constable. Gowda is his name I think. It’s ok – we’re taking care of it. Of
course there will be no case against you. I suggest you buy your friend a new
bike though. Anyway, go home and take rest. I wish we could have met in better
circumstances, but I’m still glad to have met you.” With that, Inspector Rudra
extended his hand. After a moment, Rajesh shook it. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Rajesh and Smriti walked over to the sedan. Smriti helped
him into the backseat and then got in herself and rested her head against his
chest. As the sedan drove away, the first rays of the sun pierced the night sky.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i><u><br /></u></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
****</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i><u><br /></u></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i><u>Author’s note: ‘</u></i></b><i>Deus
ex machina’, literally meaning “god from the machine”, is a plot device whereby
a seemingly unsolvable problem is suddenly and abruptly resolved by the
unexpected intervention of some new event, character, ability or object (The
phrase was coined as this technique was used in a lot of Greek tragedies
performed in theatres, where actors playing gods would be brought on stage
using machines). Though it is often criticized for being too convenient and
simplistic, I find the idea fascinating and wanted to try it. I tried to put the
protagonist in a variety of seemingly unsolvable situations and used this
technique only towards the end, trying to highlight the impact this technique
has on the plot. And of course it was a lot easier. </i><i><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span> <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>As for the ending, I
wanted to try and make an ending that is not a ‘resolution’, despite all
character arcs being complete and no future events being warranted. The easiest
way to do that was to leave a past event unexplained, hence ‘unresolved’. Not
giving a full closure is something that has been adopted a lot especially in
films, and it’s fun to mess with the audience. And of course it was a lot
easier. </i><i><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span> <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>The idea of this story
came from the French movie ‘Sleepless night’ (Original title ‘Nuit blanche’)
and draws a lot of inspiration from it. I highly recommend the movie.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>As always, let me know
your feedback.</i></div>
</div>
Rahul MDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11448938920453501288noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6071451907070681189.post-1562952248181032242016-03-18T23:44:00.001-07:002016-03-18T23:45:18.801-07:00Sleepless Night<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Cheers! To the man who’s going to take over the Big Apple!”
This was the millionth toast to him, Rajesh thought as he gulped down yet
another shot. It was still only 10pm, and he was well and truly drunk.
Obviously, his colleagues were not kidding when they told him that they would
ensure that he needed to be carried home. He was dreading tomorrow morning, and
how Smriti would chastise him for this ‘escapade’. Not to mention the long
flight he had to take, and all the small things they needed to finish up before
they left.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
However, the excitement of relocating to New York, to a big
promotion, soon took over. It had taken a lot of hours of hard work over the
years and a lot of maneuvering, but he had got what he had always wanted. And
he was glad that despite all the office politics (he wasn’t naive enough to
think everyone at the party was happy at his achievement), everyone had come to
celebrate his moment of triumph. And he was okay to get drunk for that.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He realized he wasn’t eating enough, as he was handed yet
another mug of beer. His feeble attempts at refusal were pushed aside, as his
manager Manoj literally poured the bitter brew down his throat. He nodded
furiously as he accepted the mug, hoping Manoj would stop. Thankfully he did, and
handed him the mug as he went away to flirt with the new joiner who had been
attracting a lot of advances as the night progressed. Alone for a moment,
Rajesh went over to the table where the starters were laid out and chomped down
some spring rolls.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It didn’t help that the food wasn’t very good. He forced
himself to have a kebab. His stomach rumbled. About two minutes later, a wave
of nausea took over. He tried to make his way to the restroom, but was
interrupted by Pavan, who marched over to him with a waiter carrying a tray of
shot glasses. “Come on, no excuses. You gotta have this one. Be a man!” Like
moths to a flame, a group of his colleagues came over and with a loud
“Cheers”, they all gulped down shots of vodka. Rajesh gulped down his vodka
grudgingly, and licked off the salt and chewed on the lemon, hoping he would be
able to reach the restroom before any disaster. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He avoided the hand that reached out to hold him and hastily
headed towards the restroom. It was thankfully empty, with the exception of
Gaurav, who was throwing up into the wash basin. Rajesh quickly got into an
empty cubicle and shut the door. Just being away from the loud music and the
smell of alcohol made him feel a lot better. He didn’t feel the need to throw
up. “Hmph. False alarm. Thank God.” He decided to bide some time here, till he
felt good enough to head back to the party. He relieved himself, flushed the
toilet, pulled down the seat and sat down. He put his head in his hands,
wishing that the throbbing would stop. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
About thirty seconds later, his phone rang. He fumbled in
his coat pocket and took it out. It took a moment for his head to stop
spinning, and another for his eyes to adjust as he read “Private Number” on his
phone screen. He frowned, wondering who it could be. He answered the phone.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Hello, Mr. Rajesh Padmanabhan. How are you tonight?
Planning to go to America and didn’t even let me know? Tsk tsk.” The caller
spoke in Tamil, and Rajesh had no idea who he was. His gruff voice and menacing
tone sent a shiver down Rajesh’s spine. “Sorry sir. I am not sure I remember
you. Who is this?” The caller laughed. “Sure you do.<i> </i>Asshole, don’t play dumb. Anyway, I know you are a busy man, so
I’ll get straight to the point.” There was a brief pause before a different
voice came on. “Rajesh, help me! These people have kidnapped me!” Rajesh was
stunned, scarcely unable to comprehend what was happening. The caller came back
on line. “I have kidnapped your wife. As long as you do as you are told,
nothing will happen to her.” Rajesh’s head was reeling. “But, but, who are you?
What is the meaning of all of this?” “Enough! Don’t talk, just listen. I am
waiting for you, with your beautiful wife, near Doddaballapur railway station.
I want you to come here – alone. We have your phone tapped, so don’t think
about making any phone calls or anything. And don’t take any of those taxis to
come here. We don’t want your movements to be tracked now, do we? Come on your
own, don’t do anything silly, and your wife will get out of this in one piece.
If you try to do something stupid, she will end up in pieces. Got it?” Rajesh
though he was going mad. This felt surreal. “But I cannot drive in my current
condition. I don’t even know how to get to Doddaballapur.” “Shut up! You think
I am playing the fool here? This is not some joke. Get here or else.” With
that, the call was disconnected. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Rajesh held his head, trying to stop the spinning. He tried
to make sense of what was happening. Was this some kind of joke? He tried
calling Smriti’s phone. It was switched off. He shook his head, and tried three
more times, to no avail. Seconds later, the phone rang again. It was a private
number. Rajesh swallowed and answered the phone. “<i>Dey </i>son of a whore, I wasn’t joking. No matter how much you try,
the phone won’t ring. Stop fucking around and make your move.” Before he could
say anything, the phone went dead. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He sat in a state of shock. He found it hard to believe, but
there was no denying the phone calls that had come. Or the fact that he had
heard Smriti’s voice, and the panic in it. He tried to think through what he
had to do, but his thoughts were all muddled up. He came to the realization
that there was nothing more he could do than to follow the instructions he was
given.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
With some effort, he got up from the seat and headed out of
the cubicle. The restroom was surprisingly empty. His steps as he walked to the
wash basin were shaky. He held onto the sink to steady himself, and washed his
face repeatedly to shake the grogginess. He was now fully alert, but was still
feeling disoriented. He tried not to think about how ludicrous the situation
was. He looked at the mirror, trying to figure out what to do next. As he
opened the door of the restroom, he was still none the wiser on how he was
going to proceed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He stepped out back to the loud music, the smoke and the stifling
heat. He weaved his way through the crowd in varying degrees of inebriation,
avoiding those who were trying to grab onto him. He tried to remain
discreet as he scanned the crowd looking for Manoj. He saw him on the dance
floor, trying to keep up with the youngsters shaking a leg. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Rajesh went up to Manoj and, grabbing him by the elbow,
shouted into his ear to be heard over the loud Punjabi track playing “I need to
talk to you – alone!” Manoj turned around to face him and, giving an animated
look of finding a long lost relative, grabbed Rajesh and started forcing him to
join in the dancing. Rajesh shook Manoj’s hands off his shoulders, grabbed his
hands and again pulled him close and shouted into his ear, almost growling
“NOW!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It must have been the urgency in his voice, but the jovial
expression on Manoj’s face quickly became one of concern. He nodded, and the
two started walking away from the dance floor, brushing aside eager hands that
were reaching out to force them to stay. It took them some time to get to the
exit.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The loud music and smoke filled air was replaced by the
distant din of the reducing traffic and the cool night breeze coming in from an
open window outside. Rajesh took a deep breath to try and clear his head. It
didn’t help. Manoj asked “Is everything alright? What’s the problem?” “I need
to go home.” Manoj looked at him incredulously. “You can’t be serious. We’ve
bloody thrown this grand party for you, and you want to leave? And it’s not
even 11. You know the trouble these guys went through to make sure this place
would stay open well after 1? You can’t just up and leave now!” “Look, I’m
really grateful for all this. But I’m really not feeling well. I just want to
go home. And Smriti will also be worried.” “Don’t worry about Smriti – we’ve
got permission from her to get you home whenever in whatever shape; as long as
you’re in one piece. And why don’t you just sit out here and relax for a bit?
The fresh air will help you feel a bit better, and then we can go back in and
rock the party“. Rajesh tried to hide his exasperation with little success.
“Look, I really appreciate it, but I just want to go home right now. Please, I
really don’t want to argue on this further.” Manoj looked unconvinced, but
eventually gave a grudging nod. “Ok – I really don’t understand this, but if
that’s what you want, I won’t keep debating with you. But just so you know, I’m
not happy about this. And I doubt anyone else will be.” “Yeah, I know. But
I really need to leave. And I really appreciate everything.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They walked back into the madness. Though now, Rajesh was
hard pressed to decide which the greater madness was – the party inside or the
turmoil his life had taken suddenly. He hoped to leave silently and figure out
a way to reach the railway station. It took him a moment to realize that Manoj
was now heading towards the DJ booth. Before he could wonder what was going on,
Manoj had a mic in his hand and the music was stopped. “Hey everyone! I hope
you’re all having a good time?” Shouts of ‘yes!’ emanated from the dance floor.
“It pains me to say this, but our guest of honour does not share your
enthusiasm. Rajesh has turned into a wuss and wants to go home and curl up in
bed.” Exaggerated shouts of ‘oh no!’ filled the room, and all the eyes in the
room started searching for the person in question. Rajesh felt a sense of dread
rising inside him, as all eyes were trained on him. “I say we make sure that we
get him piss drunk and give him a night to remember, and he will thank us for
stopping him from making such a stupid decision!!” The rousing speech was met
with loud cheers and applause. The entire crowd turned and started inching
towards him, many of them with glasses in their hands. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Rajesh didn’t know what to do. He had half a mind to make a
dash for the exit, but quickly abandoned the idea as he knew there was no way
he would make it out. He tried unsuccessfully to ward off the advancing crowd,
but it was no use. In a matter of minutes, a few drinks were forced down his
throat and he was hoisted on the shoulders of his colleagues as they advanced
towards the dance floor. The DJ started playing ‘We will rock you’, which was
greeted with cheers from the crowd followed by everyone singing along.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As they put him down to the ground, Manoj came over and
embraced him. “We’re not letting you leave tonight” he shouted, though his
voice was barely audible over the loud music and the cheering from everyone,
who had also started stomping their feet to the beats of the song. Pavan
appeared from nowhere, carrying a tray of shots and shouting loudly “Time for
some shots!!” Rajesh was in a daze as he came to the realization that he had no
choice but to do the unthinkable. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Not everyone realized what happened. The punch Rajesh landed
on Pavan’s jaw sent him careening backwards, and the tray filled with shot
glasses up in the air. Both Pavan and the tray with the glasses landed on the
floor with a crash. The glasses shattered on the floor, and people who were not
already seeing the scene unfold now came rushing to look, trying to make sense
of what had just happened. Even though Pavan sprawled on the floor and didn’t
look like he would get up anytime soon, Rajesh knelt over him and landed
another punch that caught him square beneath the jaw. By this time, a few
people had recovered from the initial shock and pulled Rajesh away from Pavan,
who was now out cold. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Rajesh was pushed roughly towards the bar, and Rajesh ended
up scattering several glasses as his hands fell onto the counter. He held one
of the few phones that had been left lying on the counter and slipped it into
his jacket pocket, hoping that no one had noticed. He then turned around to
face a visibly upset Manoj, who grabbed him by his shoulders and violently
shook him. Rajesh felt he was going to throw up, even wished that he would. But
nothing. “What the hell do you think you are doing?! You may be drunk, but what
is the meaning of these crazy shenanigans?” Manoj screamed. There was pin drop
silence, as everyone had their eyes fixed on the exchange. Rajesh hadn’t
realized when the music had stopped. “I told you I want to go home. Now
just let me go and get back to your party.” Manoj was speechless for a moment,
unable to comprehend what was happening. He slowly shook his head and said
“Vinod, come on. Get you bike and take this fellow home.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Rajesh shook his head. “No, just let me go and I’ll be okay.”
“Oh no you don’t. After the scene you have created, I’m not sure you’re
completely capable of going home on your own. Either way, we never intended to
have you going home without someone. Vinod is the designated driver for
tonight, and he’ll take you home. I hope you are in a position to sit behind a
bike.” Rajesh thought about protesting, but then realized that he would not
have much chance of winning an argument after what he had just done. He nodded
his assent.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Vinod came over with an outstretched arm to steady Rajesh –
an offer he rejected with a show of his palm. The entire crowd didn’t take
their eyes off the two as they silently made their way to the door. They were
escorted by three others till the elevator – clearly they didn’t want to take
any chances. The elevator opened and all five of them got in. The crowd still
remained in stunned silence as the elevator doors closed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Rajesh waited near the entrance while Vinod went to get his
bike. “Poor guy”, he thought, “and to think this is his first office party.” Rajesh
pulled out the phone and quickly tried to unlock it. Thankfully there was no
pass-code and he was able to unlock it. He was not sure what he was going to do
with it yet, but it may come in handy. After a few more taps, he locked the
phone and kept it back in his pocket. As he waited, the manager of the
restaurant came up to him and said “I hope you enjoyed the party sir. Please do
remember us for your other events.” Rajesh looked at him incredulously –
obviously he hadn’t yet been made aware of what all had happened upstairs. He
would have laughed if the situation had been different. “Yes, sure. Thank you.”
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Once Vinod came on his bike, Rajesh hopped on and they were
off. Vinod had already been told where Rajesh was staying so they went along
silently. Rajesh tried to figure out how we would get from his house to his
railway station. He had already sold his car and bike. He doubted he could ask
his neighbours at this hour, and in his current state. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It had taken them almost an hour to get to Rajesh’s place at HSR Layout.
It had taken every of ounce of patience Rajesh could muster not to shout at
Vinod to go faster. As they reached the parking under his apartment block,
Rajesh got off and turned to Vinod. “Thanks so much for getting me home.
And sorry you had to miss the party. Now go back and enjoy yourself. And
if you can, tell Pavan I’m sorry.” Vinod parked the bike. “Sure sir. Let me
first take you home.” “You’ve done enough. I can manage from here. Don’t
trouble yourself.” “No trouble sir. Let me just drop you to your door and I’ll
be off.” Realizing it was futile to protest, Rajesh let out a sigh and nodded. Just
as Vinod was about to get off the bike, without warning, Rajesh staggered as
his legs gave way. He plonked onto the floor. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Are you alright sir?” Vinod knelt down next to him, unsure
of what to do. He was getting increasingly worried about the precarious
situation he was in, and feared the worst. Rajesh’s breathing was laboured as
he said “It’s my blood sugar. I need you to do something. There is a syringe
pack and an insulin bottle on the table in the hall in my house. I need you to
go and get it.” He tossed his keys at Vinod. “Sir, let’s call your wife sir.
She can come with the medicine.” “No, she isn’t at home. She’s staying at her
friend’s place.” Vinod wanted to suggest calling a doctor instead, but saw how
uncomfortable Rajesh looked – he turned around and ran towards the elevator. It
seemed like an age before the elevator door finally opened. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As soon as he was sure that the elevator had started moving
up, Rajesh got up and looked to see if Vinod had left his keys on the bike. He
heaved a sigh of relief when he saw the keys in the ignition. He had timed his
‘attack’ to ensure that Vinod hadn’t gotten off the bike yet. He hoped Vinod
would waste some time looking for the non-existent insulin bottle before coming
down. He felt bad about doing this, but he did not have any choice. He got onto
the bike and, after a quick look around, started the bike and sped away.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
****</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><u>Author's note:</u> This is turning out to be very long, so thought I'd split it into two parts. Stay tuned for part 2, to be posted (hopefully) very soon. :) Would love your feedback as always.</i></div>
</div>
Rahul MDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11448938920453501288noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6071451907070681189.post-47860041808968353682014-04-17T13:09:00.003-07:002014-07-04T12:57:27.402-07:00Sec 377: Questions from a layman<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<u>Disclaimers:</u></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -18pt;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">I am not a lawyer. If there are some legal
nuances I have misunderstood or missed out, please let me know by commenting.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -18pt;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">I believe that members of the LGBT community
should have the same rights as anyone else. That being said, I do not have an
agenda here. In any case, Sec 377 not only criminalizes homosexual acts, but
also a lot of heterosexual ones. All I want to do is put questions I had on
Sec 377 out there, and try to get answers through dialogue.</span></li>
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I should let it be known that I am not very bright. I don’t
understand why a lot of things are done, and in many cases I fail to see the
bigger picture. One such case is the existence of Section 377 in the Indian
Penal Code (IPC). But I want to try and understand some things about Sec 377. I
hope you can help me. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<u><b>The law in question:</b></u> The Section 377 of the IPC
covers ‘Unnatural offences’, and reads “Whoever voluntarily has carnal
intercourse against the order of nature with any man, woman or animal, shall be
punished with imprisonment for life, or with imprisonment of either description
for term which may extend to ten years, and shall also be liable to fine.” <o:p></o:p></div>
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<u><b>Question 1: The question of what:</b></u> What is ‘carnal
intercourse against the order of nature’? Is there an exhaustive or even
indicative list of what constitutes this? The explanation given is “Penetration
is sufficient to constitute the carnal intercourse necessary to the offence
described in this section.” I don’t think that cleared up anything. Is
procreation the deciding factor here – I know certain Catholics consider use of
contraceptives against the order of nature. So, is sex using contraceptives
illegal? Is it illegal to use sex toys, lubricants, or anything else, since it
isn’t strictly ‘natural’? In case of lesbians, how does the law work? I know that
oral and anal sex are illegal. That sucks! (Pardon the pun)<o:p></o:p></div>
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<u><b>Question 2: The question of why:</b></u> I don’t know what
purpose the law serves. However, the very basis for the arguments supporting
and opposing the law hinges on this. From the reading of this law, it looks
like the person who enacted this law wanted to make any form of sexual
experimentation illegal, doesn’t it? The activists who want the act repealed
point out that this law is archaic and was set up during the British rule on 6<sup>th</sup>
October, 1860. However, that doesn’t necessarily make the law wrong. If the law
still serves a purpose and is in the best interests of the people, why repeal
the law? However, in this case, whose interests does it serve, and how?<o:p></o:p></div>
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From what I understand, contrary to popular belief, the law
isn’t against homosexuals – I am currently setting aside the fact that they are
the ones who are most targeted as a result of this law, since you can’t really
blame the law for how people choose to read it. The law can be used even
against someone who does anything a little kinky. Is that any reason for
punishing someone with life imprisonment in the worst cases?<o:p></o:p></div>
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There have been arguments that Sec 377 is required to
prevent sexual offences against children. To counter, there is no mention of
age in the law – so the law is vague here. Further, that argument has lost
relevance with the ‘Protection of Children Against Sexual Offences Bill, 2011’.
The need for Sec 377 for prosecution of perpetrators of rape is also not a
valid reason, as there is no mention of consent in the law either. And the
Criminal Law (Amendment) Act, 2013 specifically addresses rape and sexual
harassment. As for animal cruelty, a specific provision in ‘The Prevention of
Cruelty to Animals Act, 1960’ makes more sense that this unspecific law.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The most common argument for Sec 377, however, is that
homosexuality is against the Indian culture and religious beliefs and Sec 377
is used for protection of our morals. To counter, though I have seen some Bible
verses which indicate that homosexuality is an abomination; I have also seen
depictions of various sexual acts in temple walls which are propagated as
against Indian culture. Should we break them down too? But let’s ignore this
for now. Even if Sec 377 was meant purely as a means of making homosexuality
illegal and nothing else, it is an extremely inadequate law in my humble view, because
homosexuality is not highlighted specifically here. But really, is it the
purpose of the law to act in favour of culture if it violates our fundamental
rights? Especially in a country with so many religions and cultural beliefs as
India? If that is the case, am I wrong
to believe that this sets a dangerous precedent? <o:p></o:p></div>
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I was trying to compare unnatural sexual acts (whatever they
are) with smoking, which is not illegal in India. It is a scientifically proven
fact that smoking can lead to life threatening illnesses, both for active and
passive smokers. And we have gone only so far as to have specific designated
areas for smokers, and haven’t banned it outright. Here you have an act that is
known to be lethal, which is not illegal, but cannot be done in public. On the
other hand, you have an act that is not a risk to anyone’s life, done in total
privacy, which is illegal for some reason I am unaware of. If two or more
consenting adults decide to engage in sexual relations in a manner in which all
parties involved are ok with, what is the problem? Let’s make no mistake,
society is not a party involved here. It’s a private matter, and it’s done in a
private space, harming no one.<o:p></o:p></div>
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As you can see, I am really confused as to why this law
exists. I just don’t see the point.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<u><b>Here’s what went down:</b></u> Ever since the PIL filed by
the AIDS Bhedbhav Virodhi Andolan in 1991, and the subsequent PIL by the Naz
Foundation in 2001, the arguments on all things Sec 377 have been linked to gay
rights in India. And probably for that reason, this battle has become so
controversial. To quickly recap, one of the starting points was when Kiran Bedi
refused distribution of condoms to inmates in Tihar jail, since that would be
abetting a crime under Sec 377. After a bit of back and forth – where the High
Court refused to consider the petition since Naz Foundation had no standing to
challenge the legality of the law and no one had been prosecuted by the law in the
recent past; but then the petition was sent back by the Supreme Court to be
reconsidered on merit. Of course, there was a lot of political hullaballoo
around it. <o:p></o:p></div>
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But, on July 2, 2009, the Delhi High Court ruled – “We
declare that section 377 IPC, insofar it criminalises consensual sexual acts of
adults in private, is violative of Article 21, 14 and 15 of the Constitution”
(protection of life and personal liberty, equality before the law and
prohibition of discrimination). “The provisions of Section 377 IPC will
continue to govern non-consensual penile non-vaginal sex and penile non-vaginal
sex involving minors. Secondly, we clarify that our judgment will not result in
the re-opening of criminal cases involving <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Section_377" title="Section 377"><span style="color: windowtext; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">Section 377</span></a> IPC
that have already attained finality”. So that cleared up quite a bit of the
confusion. Without a doubt, consensual homosexual and kinky heterosexual
intercourse had become legal, but non-consensual acts and acts involving minors
were still illegal.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Of course, after the Delhi High Court verdict, Suresh Kumar
Koushal filed a petition in the Supreme Court against the verdict. Who is this
guy, you ask? “Petitioners are citizens of India who believe they have the
moral responsibility and duty in protecting cultural values of Indian Society”!
And of course, in their eyes, sexual freedom of any kind is against our
culture. Anyway, it’s clear that the only reason this petition was filed was
that they weren’t happy with gay sex being legal – the actual question of
constitutional validity and equal rights had nothing to do with this. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Anyway, on 11 December 2013, the Supreme Court ruled “we
hold that Section 377 IPC does not suffer from the vice of unconstitutionality
and the declaration made by the Division Bench of the High Court is legally
unsustainable.” Of course, a lot of protests and political noise ensued, and
still continues.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<u><b>Question 3: What did the Supreme Court actually say, and
what does it mean?:</b></u> Obviously, the Supreme Court didn’t just say this much.
The judgement runs 98 pages. Needless to say, I have so many questions on it. So
what exactly did the Supreme Court say? Below are some things the Supreme Court
said (not quoting):<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><i><br></i></b></div>
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<b><i>Every legislation enacted by Parliament or State Legislature is
presumed to be Constitutional, since the legislature is a body representing the
people and takes their best interests into account and represents the will of
the people. As the law has not been amended yet, it can be concluded that the
Parliament has decided to leave the law in. So, the Court cannot strike down
the law simply because it is misused or times have changed. </i></b>So,
Parliament needs to take the decision that Sec 377 should be removed. That
could be a lot more difficult to achieve, don’t you think?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><i>Though the law does not specify age or consent, the bench is
apprehensive of whether the Court would rule against someone in case of proved
consensual intercourse between adults. So, it is difficult to prepare a list of
acts that would be covered by this section. Sec 377 does not criminalize a
particular people or identity or orientation, but merely certain acts. </i></b>Oh,
that’s a big relief. No one is discriminating against the LGBT community here!
Being gay is not illegal, as long as you don’t engage in gay sex. Huh?? So, just
to be clear, is the message “Be as gay as you want, but don’t have sex.”? Err..
ok. Are all homosexuals supposed to be celibate? Doing it behind closed doors
still makes it illegal – just that you don’t get caught. Isn’t this tantamount
to denying homosexuals the right to a full life? Actually, why even deny
heterosexuals their choice of sex? And why have ambiguities in the law to make
the Court apprehensive about the outcome of a case – why not make the law
specific to clarify what it intends to achieve? I still don’t understand why a
private matter that harms no one is illegal.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><i>The writ petition filed by Naz Foundation failed to give particulars of
incidents of discriminatory attitude by State agencies towards sexual
minorities, and so, denial of basic human rights to them. Also, Naz Foundation did
not furnish particulars of cases involving harassment and assault from public
and public authorities to sexual minorities. So, the details were insufficient
to find that homosexuals are being subject to discriminatory treatment.</i></b>
I have no idea what was the evidence provided by Naz Foundation, but aren’t
there enough cases to indicate that there is discrimination against
homosexuals? Distribution of condoms to homosexuals is abetting a crime, since
Sec 377 criminalized homosexual intercourse. Also, isn’t the petition filed by
Mr Koushal enough evidence that society treats homosexuals as criminals? But,
from a legal perspective, can sufficient evidence be collected to prove this?
And what would count as evidence?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><i>Those who indulge in ordinary intercourse and in intercourse against
the order of nature are different classes of people and the second class cannot
claim that Sec 377 suffers from the vice of arbitrariness and irrational
classification. Sec 377 only defines the offence and prescribes punishment for
it. People should be tried and found guilty before being punished. So, the High
Court was incorrect to rule Sec 377 as being against Articles 14 and 15 of the
Constitution.</i></b> What does this even mean? How is this not irrational
classification? In fact, it’s insane classification. Also, is the fact that the
offence is described and punishment prescribed and trial is required supposed
to make things any better?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><i>The High Court overlooked the fact that a miniscule fraction of the
country’s population constitutes the LGBT community, and in over 150 years of
the law being in place, there have been less than 200 prosecutions. As such the
section is not against the provisions of Articles 14, 15 and 21.</i></b> So what?
Even if I ignore the persecution versus prosecution aspect – the fact that this
law is being used as an extortion device against homosexuals, this makes
absolutely no sense. Isn’t the violation of even one person’s rights a failure
of the law? Should the number of prosecutions matter when making a decision if
a law is fundamentally right or wrong? If the prosecutions were 2,000 or
200,000, would the judgement be any different? And who decides the number that
will make this a relevant case? Moreover, if the LGBT community constitutes
such a small part of our population, shouldn’t the efforts to make sure that
their rights are protected be more? Isn’t it the purpose of the law to treat
everyone equally, and to protect those who are marginalized? How can we preach
equality for all if the supreme legal body of the country used the rule of
“majority wins”?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><i>Naz Foundation attacked Sec 377 on the ground that it is misused to
harass, blackmail and torture people, especially from the LGBT community. This
doesn’t necessary make the law itself bad, as the section does not mandate,
suggest or condone such behaviour.</i></b> No argument there. The law cannot be
held as bad just because the keepers of the law are abusing it. But can’t this
be grounds for revisiting the law? Surely, if a law is more misused than used
(less than 200 prosecutions versus innumerable cases of blackmail and
harassment using the law), there must be something wrong with it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><i>In its ‘anxiety’ to protect the ‘so-called rights’ of LGBT persons and
to declare that Sec 377 violates the right to privacy, autonomy and dignity,
the High Court had relied extensively upon the judgements of other
jurisdictions; and though these were informative about the plight of sexual
minorities, they cannot be applied ‘blindfolded’ for the constitutionality of
the law enacted by the Indian legislature.</i></b> Makes sense, I guess. The
culture, lifestyle, etc. of other countries are different from ours, and due
thought should be given before using these foreign cases in our context. So give
it thought. Make an informed decision based on the cases from both home and abroad.
Don’t rubbish a decision just because other countries’ judgements have been
referred to. Article 14 of the Indian Constitution has been adopted from the
Irish Constitution. The very law in question was written by the British, for
crying out loud!<o:p></o:p></div>
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On a parting note, <b><i>“While
parting with the case, we would like to make it clear that this Court has
merely pronounced on the correctness of the view taken by the Delhi High Court
on the constitutionality of Section 377 IPC and found that the said section
does not suffer from any constitutional infirmity. Notwithstanding this
verdict, the competent legislature shall be free to consider the desirability
and propriety of deleting Section 377 IPC from the statute book or amend the
same as per the suggestion made by the Attorney General.” </i></b>Basically,
the bench has said that Sec 377 is not unconstitutional, so it is not the
Supreme Court’s job to do anything to the law. That doesn’t stop the Parliament
from doing something about it. They have passed the buck to the politicians.
God help us.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I have to say, I think
the Supreme Court is being harshly criticized and being made the target for all
hate on the verdict. Though some of their pronouncements baffle and shock my
simple brain, and I believe that Sec 377 is unconstitutional and so can be
dealt with by the Court, they are right in a lot of ways. The legislature
should man up and remove/revise Sec 377. After all, they represent the will of the
people. The ruling party is quick to say that they are disappointed by the
verdict. So do something about it. But we all know the reality of the situation
– if this comes to a vote in Parliament, the law will not change. It’s sad
that our country is so helpless in almost all important issues because of petty
politics.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b style="text-decoration: underline;">What next:</b> The
first option available is a review petition, asking the judges to relook at the
case. This has already been rejected by the Supreme Court on Jan 29, 2014. A
curative petition was filed, which the Supreme Court agreed to consider on
April 3, 2014. So now, we wait in hope. Given that the Supreme Court passed a
landmark judgement recognizing transgenders as a “third gender” (India is the
first country to do so), we can still be hopeful. If even this doesn’t work,
the only hope we have is that there would be a legislative amendment or an
ordinance passed. But honestly, I don’t think our politicians have the balls
for it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<u><b>It’s a simple
question, really:</b></u> For a moment, forget the nuances and due process and
legal mechanisms bullshit. I think the purpose of the law is to separate right
from wrong. Are the actions suggested in Sec 377, if done between consenting
adults, wrong? Doesn’t the law violate the rights of any person, LGBT or not,
to express their sexuality? Gay, transgender or straight, don’t we have a right
to choose with whom and how we enjoy sexual relations? Isn’t this a human
rights issue, rather than a political, cultural or religious one? I have so
many questions on this law, but I think it all boils down to a simple question:
“Is this law right?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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**</div>
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<b><i><u>P.S.:</u></i></b><i> I have used words like homosexual, gay
(including lesbians), and LGBT interchangeably. I don’t mean to be insensitive
in my usage of words, but I haven’t made attempts to be politically correct. I
hope there is no doubt that my heart is in the right place.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
</div>
Rahul MDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11448938920453501288noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6071451907070681189.post-57217072880332828992012-07-20T04:48:00.000-07:002012-07-20T09:14:33.935-07:00THE DARK KNIGHT RISES MOVIE REVIEW<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://www.cinemablend.com/images/news/31034/New_Dark_Knight_Rises_Poster_Arrives_Online_1337636698.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.cinemablend.com/images/news/31034/New_Dark_Knight_Rises_Poster_Arrives_Online_1337636698.jpg" width="216" /></a></div>
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<i>Warning: This is a
review by a true fanboy, but I have tried to be as unbiased as can be. Can I
help it if the movie is so darn good?<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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Ever since the release of 'The Dark Knight', everyone had
wondered if Christopher Nolan could match it. And with "The Dark Knight
Rises", all speculation comes to a rest - Nolan clearly rises to the
occasion (pardon the pun) as he delivers an epic conclusion to what is arguably
the best comic book movie series. And that is the best way to sum up the movie
- EPIC!!</div>
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To go into great depth on the plot would be giving away too
much. "The Dark Knight Rises" starts 8 years after the death of district
attorney Harvey Dent aka Two Face, for whose crimes Batman has taken the fall
and become an outlaw. Now, with the passing of the 'Harvey Dent Act',
Commissioner Gordan has been able to take down organized crime in Gotham,
but has not been able to get over the guilt of lying to everyone. Bruce Wayne
has become a recluse and cannot move on after the death of Rachel Dawes and
Batman's fall from grace, leaving the running of Wayne Enterprises to Lucius
Fox and the board members, including the money minded John Daggett and wealthy
philanthropist Miranda Tate - until an encounter with a skilled cat burglar
Selina Kyle, and rookie cop John Blake. Enter mercenary Bane, former member of
'The League of Shadows' (remember them?), who plans to complete what Ra's Al
Ghul could not - destroy Gotham city. Will Batman be able to save his beloved
city from destruction?</div>
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Christopher Nolan's trilogy has been essentially about Bruce
Wayne's journey, and the focus on Bruce Wayne (and not only Batman) is what
lends this series the emotional depth that is hard to find in comic book
movies. And with "The Dark Knight Rises", the writers (Christopher
Nolan, Jonathan Nolan and David Goyer) are able to provide a suitable
conclusion to Bruce Wayne's journey. </div>
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But, Nolan does not lose sight of the fact that this is, in fact,
a summer blockbuster movie. Make no mistake, this is an action-packed, high
adrenaline ride on a grand scale. The movie has a lot of edge-of-your-seat
moments, cool gadgets and memorable lines. The action sequences are raw and
gritty, and many of the set pieces will leave audiences in awe, most noticeably
the introduction of Bane, the explosion in the football stadium - and not to
forget the amazing climax. Special mention to Hans Zimmer's score, which
captures the mood perfectly. All this with a superb plot. The choice of Bane as
a villain is brilliant, since he is perhaps the only one who is a match for
Batman physically as well. And this has been incorporated very well into the storyline.</div>
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I must mention Nolan's direction, though it
is no news that he is a genius. With both the story and his direction, Nolan
has been able to give a very realistic look on what the impact of a terror
attack on a city would be, and how the economic slowdown can be used as a
weapon. All this while not making the movie too heavy for the viewers'
sensibilities. And he does all this with a comic book movie. </div>
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The performances of the movie, similar to the earlier two,
are brilliant. Morgan Freeman, Gary Oldman and Michael Caine all reprise their
roles and it's as if they worked in continuity with the earlier movies. Joseph
Gordon Levitt gives an earnest performance. Marion Cotillard does well, in a
role that really doesn't have much to offer. Anne Hathaway silences anyone who
doubted her ability to play the part with a brilliant turn as Selina Kyle
(she's never referred to as 'Catwoman'). Tom Hardy plays the brutal Bane with
the terrifying intensity that shows in his eyes and his garbled voice. The
movie, however, belongs to Christian Bale. His ability to portray pain makes the
audience sympathise with Bruce Wayne, and keeps them rooting for Batman.</div>
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As for flaws, the movie has a run-time of 2 hours and 45
minutes, and some may find it arduous. It is essential to watch the first two
movies of the trilogy, and those who haven't watched them would be at a loss
for a major part of the movie. For me, the only disappointment was the absence of
Alfred for the most part - it took away something from the movie. </div>
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Comparisons to the earlier movies, and to the more recent
comic book movies are unfair, yet unavoidable. In my opinion, this is the best
movie to come out this year by a long shot. Not that
"The Avengers" and "The Amazing Spiderman" were bad - they
were fun. As for comparisons to "Batman Begins" and "The Dark
Knight", I can only say this - these three movies form part of a single
story, and it doesn't make sense to compare. Each movie is as it should be,
complementing each other. Having said that, "The Dark Knight Rises" gives
you everything you could expect, and probably more. </div>
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I have not been so eagerly waiting for a movie since
Christopher Nolan's last movie - "Inception". And once again, I was
not disappointed. While watching the movie, I felt like a small boy opening a
much awaited present, overjoyed and excited that it was all he had hoped for.
My verdict - if you still haven't figured it out - is two big thumbs up. Do not
miss "The Dark Knight Rises" - this is the biggest movie of the year.</div>
</div>Rahul MDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11448938920453501288noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6071451907070681189.post-26910234595875779602012-02-07T22:31:00.000-08:002012-02-07T22:31:13.725-08:00Lost Love<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">The cafe was crowded that night, and it was by an off-chance that Priya noticed Kiran enter. Or perhaps, it was decided by fate. Despite the dread of facing the person she had hurt long ago, Priya could not stop herself in time and found herself calling out to Kiran. Kiran looked thoroughly surprised, but walked to the table immediately, smiling.<br />
<br />
<br />
“My friends have taken a table at the smoking section – I’ll call them and let them know I won’t be joining them”; Kiran said without hesitation in response to Priya’s invitation to join her. After the call, the two of them sat opposite to each other, exchanging nervous glances and sheepish smiles. It wasn’t until the waiter arrived to take their order that they spoke further.<br />
<br />
Priya did not know where to start. Gingerly, she tried to make small talk.<br />
<br />
“So, how have you been?” <br />
<br />
“Good. It’s nice to meet you. It’s been so long! You still look lovely as ever.”<br />
<br />
“You’ve changed so much. I could hardly recognize you.”<br />
<br />
“Well, yeah. You could say I went through quite an image makeover from the school days.”<br />
<br />
“Hmm.. So, how is everyone?”<br />
<br />
“Parents are good… You don’t know anyone else in my circle, so I won’t bore you with that stuff.”<br />
<br />
The waiter came back with their order. Priya reflected on the conversation so far. It was definitely going better than expected. Kiran hadn’t completely ignored her. Or hurled abuses at her. But she still was not sure on how to bring up the delicate subject. Take it one step at a time, she thought to herself.<br />
<br />
“You still haven’t lost your sense of humor. And your flair for journalism. I’ve been following many of your articles. And they’re really good. Of course you don’t need me to tell you that – you’ve been raking in the awards!”<br />
<br />
“Haha! Thanks. Well yeah, professional life has been good. Actually, come to think of it, so has my personal life. Anyway, enough about me. What’s going on with you?”<br />
<br />
“Oh no! The conversation was just starting to get interesting. Are you.. “ Priya hesitated. “Are you seeing someone?”<br />
<br />
“Tell me what’s going on with you, and I promise I will answer all your questions.”<br />
<br />
Realizing there was no escape, Priya sighed. “Well, what’s there to say? I lead a pretty boring life – I got married 5 years ago. I’ve been a dutiful housewife since.”<br />
<br />
Kiran did not miss the hint of bitterness in Priya’s voice, but decided to press on. “Come on, give me a few details.” The voice was overly cheerful, trying to mask the uneasiness of its owner.<br />
<br />
“His name is Madhav. Things are… good.”<br />
<br />
Not knowing what to say, Kiran muttered “Hmm.. Nice.”<br />
<br />
Priya tried to sound cheerful. “So, who is the special someone?”<br />
<br />
Kiran smiled. “Her name is Radha. We are currently living together. She works as an investment banker. Of course, I am sure you wouldn’t approve of our relationship.”<br />
<br />
Priya felt the words sting her. “I’m not the same person, you know.”, she replied coldly.<br />
<br />
“I mean about the whole ‘live-in’ thing. Sheesh, relax!”<br />
<br />
“Whatever.”<br />
<br />
An uneasy silence followed. Priya stared at her well-manicured fingernails, trying to frame her next words. The apology that had not been told for ten years. The words that might, just might, help wash away the guilt gnawing inside her for all those years.<br />
<br />
“Listen.. Kiran.. I wanted to apologize to you.. for what I did.. all those years ago…” Priya’s voice trailed off.<br />
<br />
Kiran tried to hide any signs of emotion, but the hurt was evident. “Oh? I see.. can you please tell me what exactly you want to apologize for?”<br />
<br />
Priya was on the verge of tears. “Kiran, please… I just… I’m so sorry…” <br />
<br />
“For what? I want you to say it.” The icy cold tone of Kiran’s voice sent a shiver down Priya’s spine.<br />
<br />
“I was only 16 then. What you told me was too much to take. I mean, I was scared. I didn’t know how to react. I mean, my best friend being a lesbian!”<br />
<br />
Kiran’s face twisted in anger and sadness. Her voice was trembling now. “So what did you do? You threw me out of your life. And then you distanced yourself from me, made a fool of me in front of all the other girls in school! No wonder I had a nervous breakdown!”<br />
<br />
Priya was now sobbing uncontrollably. “I didn’t know how to react. I was stupid.”<br />
<br />
Kiran’s eyes gleamed with tears. She did not want to continue, but could not help but vent her emotions. “Oh, you were much more than that. You were inconsiderate to my feelings. I had opened up to you before anyone else. And your reaction was so cruel. I told you I had feelings for you, but it wasn’t like I wanted you or something. But you made me feel like a criminal. For so many years, I felt so guilty, for something that wasn’t even my fault. That wasn’t wrong. So many therapy sessions. Thankfully others around me were supportive. But despite all that, I wished you would accept me for who I was. I hoped you would try and contact me atleast once, let me know that you considered me a friend even if I am gay. But you never did.”<br />
<br />
“I am sorry. I don’t know what to say. I wish I could take it all back, I really do. But I cannot. And now, I feel fate has punished me for what I did. My marriage with Madhav is crumbling. We are on the verge of a divorce. I am lonely.. so lonely..”<br />
<br />
Kiran’s voice softened. She stretched out her hand to touch Priya’s, but pulled it back. “I am not so sadistic as to say that the tables have been turned. I want you to know that I am truly sorry that you are not happy. But, even if it gives you closure, I cannot forgive you for what you did.”<br />
<br />
Priya looked at Kiran, her eyes pleading. Kiran took a breath, wiping the tears that had rolled down her cheeks, before continuing.<br />
<br />
“What you did to me scarred me for life. I went through hell, and you didn’t even turn to see what I was going through. I know it must have been difficult for you to accept me, but then you were my best friend. It was your responsibility. And even if you couldn’t accept me for what I was, you didn’t have to go to such lengths to make my life miserable.”<br />
<br />
Priya continued sobbing, looking down at her empty coffee mug.<br />
<br />
“I wish you have a good life, and that you can find happiness soon. But I don’t want to try and be your friend or get in touch with you. You don’t deserve it. I’m sorry.”<br />
<br />
With this, Kiran took some money out of her purse and kept it on the table. Without waiting for a response, she got up and started walking away. Priya could do nothing but stare at the retreating figure of the best friend she had lost. <br />
<br />
**** <br />
<br />
P.S.: I've racked my brains, but am unable to come up with a good title for this post. I have used my working title, which I had intended to change. Would appreciate it if you guys can suggest an alternate title.</div>Rahul MDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11448938920453501288noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6071451907070681189.post-7032239840714328642011-10-07T10:22:00.000-07:002011-10-09T00:37:00.647-07:00The Bald and the Beautiful<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-IN">“You know, my mom and I got talking about impotency.” said Rajkumar, the trademark mischievous look on his face. “How did that come up?” Shachi asked ever so innocently. “That’s the point – it didn’t.” I said, before Rajkumar and I burst out laughing, while realization dawned on Shachi. “My mom and I were talking about my receding hairline.” I immediately offered my sympathies, having had to undergo a similar torture not too long ago.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-IN"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-IN">It’s no secret that I am, as Colin Mocherie put it, “follically impaired”. Let’s face it, I am going bald. And honestly, I have no problem with that. Well, maybe just a little bit, but then one can’t be blamed for feeling a little sad about going bald. What really gets me is how all and sundry feel obliged to help you get through what should most definitely be a difficult juncture in your life. The constant tut-tutting, the sympathetic looks, and the inevitable suggestions ranging from home remedies of applying virtually every food product on your scalp to the more ‘scientific’ methods like hair weaving, transplants, and of course, “Hair-o-max” and other similar medication.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-IN"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-IN">As a kid, most people admired my head of strong and lustrous hair. My father, who was apparently “the Rajesh Khanna of his college” in his hay days, would beam proudly at me and say, “Of course, he gets it from my family. I was the only one in my college whom my principal didn’t ask to get a haircut. Even he was in awe of my hair.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-IN"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-IN">Obviously, it irritated him to no end that I insulted the God given gift of amazing locks by cutting them very short. The very mention of a haircut was enough to get his blood boiling. Even if it was 45 degrees of scorching heat in the typical Dubai summer. “But dad, it’s so hot outside! My hair itches from sweating like crazy. And besides, my hair is curly and it never stays in place.” “You should learn how to comb your hair. Let me work on those beauties.” After what seems like eternity, and using an array of weapons ranging from the hair dryer, hair sprays, an assortment of combs and God knows what else, he gets my hair glued to my scalp and takes a step back to look at his handiwork. “Ah, there you go. A true work of art, even if I do say so myself. If only I…” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-IN"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-IN">“AAAAAAAAAAA!!!! What on earth is that???? Oh please, do not subject our son to such cruelty!!” My mom came running into the room, with a look on her face that can only be described as one of pure horror. I looked at the mirror and realized why. My hair would single-handedly put me in contention for the most ridiculed boy in school. Actually, there would be no contest. I would win hands down. Thankfully, before this potential nightmare would be realized, my mom ensured I got a haircut at the earliest.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-IN"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-IN">The recession came once I moved to Chennai. I’m not sure what it was – the intense heat, the really bad water, dandruff, or just plain heredity. Whatever it was, once the first hair hit the ground, what followed was just pure freefall. Day after day, I watched helpless as the hairs migrated from my head to my t-shirt, and more of my scalp was exposed to the world. But even then, I wasn’t overly concerned.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-IN">It wasn’t until one of my visits to Dubai that this ‘problem’ was addressed. My dad took it quite badly that his son was losing hair – and even worse – didn’t even bother to find out ways to overcome it. I would hear him muttering “Not even remotely worried that he will soon be bald. How will his future shape up?” I thought it best not to bring up the various concerns I had with his cribbing statement, lest I open Pandora’s Box. My mom was also wrought with grief, though she tried her best to hide it. “It’s hereditary. You’ve got it from my family”, she said, her face guilt ridden. I tried my best to pacify her and my dad, but between disappointment and guilt, my parents were quite inconsolable. It wasn’t until I agreed to see a dermatologist that some sanity ensued.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-IN"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-IN">After avoiding the matter for as long as I could, I finally paid a visit to the doctor. The doctor, who had a fine head of hair, looked intently at the edges of my hairline. “You have type-A male baldness”, he said, “Most common kind of baldness”. Like being part of the most happening baldness club was supposed to make me feel better. “As for the treatment, I can prescribe some hair ointments and tablets. However, you have to be extremely regular. And you must take quite a few precautions for your hair.” I did not like this, but gave a sigh and nodded. The sacrifices one has to make. “I’ll do my best. Whatever it takes, I guess.” The doctor hesitated slightly. “Er, there is one more thing. Of course, it is a very rare thing – in fact, the rarest of rare, if you will.” He laughed nervously. “But ….”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-IN"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-IN">I got out of the doctor’s office in something of a state of shock. My train of thought was interrupted by a call from my mom. “I just met the doctor about my hair; rather the lack of it.” “Oh finally! What did he say?” “He suggested some medication, but there is just one thing.” “Oh, what is it? Please don’t come up with some silly excuse to avoid this.” “The baldness is caused by excessive testosterone production in the body. There is a very rare possibility that the medication, which reduces this, can cause impotency.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-IN">The silence that ensued spoke louder than words. After what seemed like an eternity, my mom finally spoke. “Let’s just wait a bit on the medication. Probably not the best time to start.” I hastily agreed, sure that this would be the last discussion on the topic. Some things are just way more important.<a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=6071451907070681189&postID=703223984071432864" name="_GoBack"></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-IN"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-IN">I have gotten a tonsure multiple times. While it wasn’t a dress rehearsal for my future as a bald man, I realized that I don’t look too bad with a clean head. And it does feel free. But then, not too many people share my opinion. They instead take it upon themselves to try and steer me away from my impending doom, from a fate worse than hell itself. Little do they realize that they are actually pushing me further towards it, ‘cause I’m about to tear out my hair in frustration.</span></div></div>Rahul MDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11448938920453501288noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6071451907070681189.post-14668327709658598012011-06-04T12:28:00.000-07:002011-06-04T13:03:31.978-07:00What's in a Name?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">“Don’t get me wrong. It’s not like I don’t like the sound of it or anything. It’s just that it has too many inconveniences attached to it.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">“I’m sure you’re exaggerating. Or atleast overreacting to the whole thing.” I could see that even though he was trying to maintain a neutral, even somber tone, he was finding it increasingly difficult to suppress his smile.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">I sighed. “I know most people find it funny. But it is true – despite my parents’ best intentions, my name has presented a few difficult situations.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">He laughed out loud. “Oh please, what sort of difficulties could the name ‘Rahul’ present? If anything, it should have made you a lot more popular and actually helped than hindered.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">This is a common misconception that most people have. I am not sure if anyone besides Shah Rukh Khan has found the name ‘Rahul’ to be a lucky charm. But then again, I am not sure if any of my countless namesakes find being christened ‘Rahul’ a cross to bear for life. Maybe I am overreacting.<br />
_____________________</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">I was sitting, as usual, in the last bench of the class, slowly dozing off to sleep. Just when I was about to lose track of reality, I was brought back to earth with a shrill “Rahoool. Don’t be napping in my class.” I woke with a start. In a class with two other students sharing my name, I was the only one who was addressed as ‘Rahool’ by my English teacher. I guess it was an elegant solution to the problem of having too many students with the name ‘Rahul’. Never mind the fact that it spawned countless imitations and the fact that many of my friends still make fun of me.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">But even then, the fact that my individuality was preserved made all the jokes tolerable. However, not every teacher was as considerate to my plight. In most other classes, every time the name “Rahul” was called out, my eyes darted from one Rahul to the other like a pinball trying to figure out who would respond. Needless to say, we were constantly nagged by friends. A case in point – once the Chemistry teacher called out to one of us, which was followed by “Rahul”, “Rahul”, “Rahul” from all corners of the class – ‘helpful’ students ‘inadvertently’ adding to the chaos.<br />
_________________________</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">The train arrived ten minutes late, and we didn’t have much time before the train to Chennai would leave the station. We frantically ran towards the coach A2, and looked for my name. As I was unable to see it, my heart started racing. Had the travel agent screwed up? Would my college admission be in jeopardy? Would it be another yelling session from my dad for no fault of mine? “There it is!!” Relieved, I moved my eyes towards the name my mother was pointing at. Wait a second, why did the name read ‘Ragul’?? </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">It was not until later that I realized that the Tamil alphabet doesn’t use ‘hu’, but rather uses ‘ku’ or ‘gu’ instead. During the three years of my college life in Chennai, there were countless instances where my name was written as ‘Raghul’ or ‘Rakul’. I won’t even get into the various ways my name was mispronounced at that time!<br />
___________________________</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">My fever was getting worse. I made the long overdue decision to visit the doctor. The receptionist, after giving me a concerned look, took out a card and asked for my name. On hearing my name, with a sly smile on her face, she said “Rahul – naam toh suna hoga”; which was followed by giggles from all and sundry. How naive of me to think that my 103<sup>o</sup> F fever would suffice to stop random people joking about my name. As though I had not heard enough of “Rahul is a cheater!!” to last me several lifetimes.<br />
____________________________</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">I guess these are trivial occurrences in the grand scheme of things we call life. But then again, isn’t this enough suffering on account of one cause, that too one not of my doing?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">He probably figured out that I was taking the topic a lot more seriously than he had guessed. “Dude, don’t take it to heart. You are a person, not just a name. As Shakespeare wrote; ‘What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.' ”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><br />
It was then that I realized that he was right. People liked me for who I am. Who cares if they had a little fun at the expense of my name? Why did I let it get to me? I had found inner peace. I was Po.. er, no, Rahul. But that’s the point. I would no longer be bothered by people……..</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">“Hey Rahul Gandhi. When did you get out of prison?” </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">AAAARRRRRGGGHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!<br />
_______________________________</div></div>Rahul MDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11448938920453501288noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6071451907070681189.post-40065853596595763372011-01-28T22:20:00.000-08:002011-01-28T22:20:14.616-08:00ADDICTIONJoseph was a nervous wreck. He was having a tough time staying away from it. “No, I should not. Everyone is right. My addiction will destroy my life.”<br />
<br />
Joseph was trying to think things through. “How had all of this happened?” he wondered. He remembered the days of his childhood back in his village – the shy, quiet boy who was the consistent topper in all his exams in his school.<br />
<br />
He was trying to distract himself, he realized. He was trying not to think about the craving he had, the desperate urge he felt to fulfill his desire – no, his need – for it. He kept pacing up and down, trying to think of something else, anything else. But he knew that this would be a futile effort. He knew that no matter how hard he tried, he would not be able to distract himself forever. <br />
<br />
“My son has got admission in a very prestigious college in the city!!” He remembered the fateful day, the joy on his mother’s face as she distributed sweets to everyone. Joseph had got a scholarship in the city, and now his dream of joining college would be realized. And why not? He had worked hard for it. As he remembered the events that had led to his current situation, Joseph could not help but be overcome by emotion. As he closed his eyes shut, a tear rolled down his cheek.<br />
<br />
“Why did I get into all of this? Why did I let it take over my life?” Joseph cursed himself. He knew there was no one else to blame but himself, no excuse he could hide behind. But deep down inside, he knew the reason for all of this. He remembered the first two semesters in college – how he had tried so hard to fit in, how he could not work in group projects or presentations because of his awkwardness, how he could not make any friends, how he felt like an outcast. He remembered how he had felt so alone; so left out in a crowd.<br />
<br />
And then he had found it. At first, he had been skeptical. He had not wanted to try it. Someone had mentioned it in college, and soon curiosity got the better of him. He remembered going into the dingy room, sitting in the tiny space nervously, as he tried it out for the first time. He had not even liked it that much the first time. But then he had got hooked. It transported him to a new world – a world where he had no worries of his awkwardness and his different mannerisms, where he was liberated. He now felt popular, he felt cool – this was an elixir for all his social handicaps. For once, he was happy and felt part of something – he felt he belonged.<br />
<br />
But his newfound happiness came at a price – he could not concentrate on anything else. He constantly wanted to get his fix – he bunked his classes, barely ate, lost out on sleep, and spent most of his limited money on going back to get his fix. His marks took a nosedive, and he failed many of his exams. The subjects he had in arrears kept piling up. His life was spiraling downward, but Joseph was oblivious to any of this. Nothing else mattered anymore.<br />
<br />
Joseph tried not to look at the cupboard in his room. He had been trying not to all day, but his gaze kept going back to it. Each time, it got harder to look away. Joseph realized he was shaking now. The effort it took to hold himself back was more than he could bear. His willpower was waning, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before he succumbed to temptation.<br />
<br />
And then, in a moment he knew he would regret; Joseph did it. His body moved as though controlled by an external force. In a determined stride, he walked to the cupboard. As his hand reached out and opened the door, Joseph felt euphoria amidst all the nervousness. Joseph took the pouch out of the cupboard.<br />
<br />
He placed the pouch on the table and opened the zipper. The very sound of this made him cringe. As he took out the contents from the bag, he remembered how he had begged his classmate for it – he had made tall promises to use it for a week. “I’ll give you anything, please. I need it only for a week.” Joseph felt ashamed at how he had stooped so low, how he had made a spectacle of himself. Tears welled up in his eyes.<br />
<br />
As he assembled the components together, he remembered his mother’s tearful breakdown, the worried look on his uncle’s face, and the words of advice from his professors. All of them had come to meet him, because they cared for him. And he was letting them all down by his actions. He was letting himself down. Joseph felt the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach gain intensity. He tried to push aside his thoughts and got to work.<br />
<br />
Joseph switched on the laptop with a shaking hand. He felt the soft whirring sound of it booting fill the room. The startup music on the Windows operating system felt so loud, his ears hurt. With a sense of urgency he had never known, Joseph connected to the unsecured wireless network of his neighbor. <br />
<br />
He opened the Opera browser and looked at the favorites he had saved earlier. He felt relief flooding his senses now. He was ashamed of it, but he could not deny the unbridled joy he felt. He opened his Gmail account in one tab, his Facebook account in another, and his Twitter account in the third. As he succumbed to his addiction for the virtual networking world, Joseph broke into tears.Rahul MDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11448938920453501288noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6071451907070681189.post-86928816130104565772011-01-16T22:37:00.000-08:002011-01-16T22:37:07.225-08:00REVENGEAsif Khan and Karim sat at the entrance of the abandoned shed, looking out for any movement. The monsoons were lashing out with all its fury on the streets of Mumbai. As Asif Khan clutched his Beretta 93R, Karim noticed that his hands were shivering. Was it due to the fact that he was wet and cold, or was it due to the fear that had been gnawing at him, Karim wondered. Karim had been with Asif bhai for over seven years now, and had seen the deterioration of the dreaded underworld don to a paranoid, almost crazy maniac.<br />
<br />
“Bhai, come in. You are cold. I’ll keep watch here.” Asif Khan looked at Karim with affection. Karim had been his trusted aide, his right hand man for almost five years now. Karim had proved himself time and again, both with his cunning and his sheer ruthlessness. And his devotion to Asif Khan. Asif Khan knew that he owed his life to Karim. Even now, the only reason he was alive was that Karim had warned him about the police, who were now hunting him all over the city. Asif Khan thanked Allah for a younger brother like Karim.<br />
<br />
As Karim watched outside for any sign of the police, he thought of the events that had led to all of this. It had been three years since Salim had arrived and almost entirely ruined the Asif Khan gang. It was amazing how one man consumed by hate and driven by revenge could do such damage. Karim had heard the story a million times by now, mostly from Asif bhai himself, as he rued his mistakes and mourned his crumbling empire.<br />
<br />
Asif Khan’s thoughts once again diverted to Salim, and how that bastard had ruined him. But he knew that he had wronged Salim’s family, and the guilt that haunted him had made him weak. If only he had discouraged Hussain’s taste for women’s flesh.<br />
<br />
The story had been forgotten by everyone. But Salim’s entry into the underworld had brought it all back. Gang members spoke about it in whispers. Some even thought it Allah’s will. Altaf had told Karim the story of how Hussain, a previous gang member, had raped and murdered Salim’s sister. Asif bhai had ordered the entire family be killed. An explosion in the family’s home was orchestrated during the mourning, but Salim had escaped. Two days later, Hussain’s body was found. An entire magazine had been unloaded into him, one bullet to each kneecap, one to the torso and the remaining to his chest. It was clear to see that he had been tortured with a knife as well. <br />
<br />
A city wide search for Salim ensued. Asif bhai even used his connections in the police, his informants in other gangs and his boys on the streets to try and find Salim. But there was no luck. There were a few unfortunate deaths of young men resembling Salim, but the real Salim was never found. Everyone felt that he had fleed town, but Asif bhai was never really convinced. Asif bhai felt that Salim had received shelter from one of the rival gangs, but his gang members pleaded with him to avoid a bloody gang war. Asif bhai had relented, but felt that he had not heard the last of Salim. Six years later, he was proven right.<br />
<br />
Salim returned to Asif Khan’s life with a bang. A boat carrying heroin came in with nothing but torn up sacks, the bodies of the crew members, and a note by Salim swearing vengeance. What followed was a relentless attack on Asif Khan’s gang by Salim. Asif Khan’s informants in other gangs were exposed and murdered, his rackets constantly raided by the police on account of tips from anonymous informants and his turf was attacked when a car bomb exploded, killing five of his gang members and injuring Asif Khan.<br />
What followed was probably the bloodiest chapter in the saga of the Mumbai underworld. Asif Khan asked for whoever was hiding Salim to surrender him to avoid an all out gang war. When no one came forward, Asif Khan declared war. The days of peace were over, and reign of the gun had started. Karim masterminded the sure and savage wipeout of the opposition, both outside and within the gang. Many gangmembers who had reservations about Asif Khan’s latest move either kept quiet out of fear of Karim, or were silenced forever by him. The Mumbai police, who were helpless spectators for most part and tried their best to curb violence in the city, could not help but admit that Asif Khan was doing his job by getting rid of the gangs. The underworld suffered, in terms of lives, business and money lost in this mindless carnage. The streets of Mumbai were awash with the blood of the underworld.<br />
<br />
In all of this, there was still no sign of Salim. Asif Khan grew more and more frustrated as each passing day brought no news of Salim’s death. He drank too much. He started having nightmares of the devil, the shaitan, coming and dragging him into the depths of darkness. He had trouble staying composed, and despite consulting a lot of doctors, there was nothing that could be done if his mind could not be calmed down. He suspected his men were plotting against him, and kept telling Karim that the blast in his turf could not be orchestrated without the help of an insider. His health took a downturn as he started eating less. He was consumed by fear, and he was helpless to do anything. His nemesis, his hunter, was lurking, waiting to strike, and he could do nothing but wait. <br />
<br />
Karim, in the meantime, did everything he could. Salim’s photo was sent everywhere; but to no avail. He managed to get rid of most of the rival gangs using all the means he could. But things got worse. The police were given strict orders to clean up the city and put an end to the bloodbath. Asif Khan was to be captured, dead or alive. Karim had no illusions about which option the police would choose. It wasn’t long before his informant in the police told him that an arrest warrant had been issued for Asif Khan. Karim knew he had to act quickly. He arranged the fake passports, the money and the tickets to Singapore. Soon Asif bhai and he had left the house in an old Maruti 800, but had to hide out in an abandoned shed after Asif bhai noticed a couple of policemen who may have spotted them from a checkpost. Now he sat near the entrance of the shed, his Colt Double Eagle clasped firmly in his hand.<br />
<br />
Asif Khan was slowly drifting into sleep. He saw, out of the pitch black, a figure emerging. Covered in flames, the figure was coming to him slowly. Asif Khan tried to move back, but he could not move an inch. He was crying and yelling in fear, but the shaitan came to him, burning bright. The shaitan stretched its hand, reaching for his feet, ready to drag him to hell.<br />
<br />
Asif Khan was woken by a loud bang and an excruciating pain in his knee. Blood was oozing from his kneecap. Wailing in pain, he clutched his knee and looked up. His eyes widened at what he saw. Towering over him was Karim, pointing his Double Eagle straight at him. The smoke from the barrel rose slowly.<br />
<br />
“Karim?” he asked, almost in a daze. “Why? Why are you doing this? Did Salim hire you? Or was it the police? I treated you like a brother. I trusted you. WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS??”<br />
<br />
“Salim is dead. He died all those years ago. He had succumbed to his injuries during the blast you triggered. You killed Salim. You killed his parents, my uncle and aunt. And Abida. That bastard raped her and murdered her. Your henchman dog killed her. And you let him. You let him loose on the streets, and instead, killed my innocent family. You took away all the family I had. You murdered my love. I was going to have my nikkah with Abida. And you took her away.”<br />
<br />
“Karim, please.. please.. listen to me. There was nothing I could do. I tried to stop Hussain. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. Please. I’ll give you anything. I have money. You know that. Please let me live. For Allah’s sake, we were like brothers.”<br />
<br />
Karim fired a shot onto his left kneecap. Asif Khan yelled in pain. “Hurts, doesn’t it? You were no brother to me. Getting into your gang and gaining your trust was necessary for me. And you have given me everything I needed. Your slow death from fear – THE ONCE INVINCIBLE ASIF KHAN, NOW SCARED OF HIS OWN SHADOW – that has been my greatest reward. You made me kill people. You made me go against Allah’s will – and now you beg for mercy using Allah’s name? You are a pathetic man; and the world would be a much better place without you. YOU WILL DIE, YOU SON OF A BITCH!!”<br />
<br />
Asif Khan’s face turned ashen white. He had realized that Karim had taken away his Beretta, and now there was nothing he could do. He could hardly move because of his damaged knees. He started crying and begging for mercy. As he looked up, he saw the contemptuous smile on Karim’s face. This was the last thing he would see, as the bullet from Karim’s gun hit him in the chest.<br />
<br />
Karim emptied the magazine into Asim Khan’s chest. He was shaking with fury. He let out a roar; filled with anger, rage. All the emotions he had hidden deep within for so many years. He had finally had his revenge. He wiped Asim Khan’s blood from his face and hands. Throwing the gun aside, Karim walked out of the shed. As he stepped out, he felt the rain, coming down hard, cleansing him. He had journeyed through sin for seven years and had finally achieved redemption. He got into the car and drove away.<br />
<br />
P.S: A note of thanks is in order here. Many thanks to Rajkumar, who through his facebook post (also titled "Revenge") unwittingly inspired me to write this piece. Thanks dude, for bringing me out of a creative slump. I owe you one. <br />
<br />
P.S. 2: Of course, like Rajkumar, I am also a man of peace.Rahul MDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11448938920453501288noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6071451907070681189.post-2152540491579926042010-07-17T11:08:00.000-07:002010-07-17T11:09:16.019-07:00Inception Movie ReviewNot many movies that are highly anticipated are able to live upto the hype they create. “The Dark Knight” was one movie that managed to deliver more than expected. And now, Christopher Nolan does it once again with the much awaited “Inception”.<br />
<br />
Anyone who has followed Christopher Nolan’s work would find it impossible not to be taken by his creativity and artistic vision. I am no exception. However, I can safely say that one doesn’t need to be biased to know that “Inception” may be one of the most important movies to come out of Hollywood. And that Christopher Nolan is a director to watch out for (that is, if you are not already doing so).<br />
<br />
In a world where multiple people sharing a single dream is a reality, Dom Cobb (Leonardo DiCaprio) specializes in extracting information from a sleeping person’s brain for money. A fugitive who cannot return home to his children, Cobb gets a chance to earn his freedom when a powerful businessman Saito (Ken Watanabe) hires him to do the impossible – putting an idea into his business rival’s (Cillian Murphy) subconscious mind, viz. inception of an idea. For this, Cobb must assemble a specialist team, consisting of his right hand man Arthur (Joseph Gordon-Levitt), “forger” Eames (Tom Hardy) who can shift his identity in a dream, chemist Yusuf (Dileep Rao) who produces the sedatives required to pull off the task at hand, and architect Ariadne (Ellen Page) who creates the elaborate structures where the dreams are played out. The team must pull out all the stops to accomplish the impossible, which is made all the more difficult by visits from Cobb’s dead wife Mal (Marion Cotillard), who tries to disrupt their mission. Saying anything more would be sacrilege, and I don’t think I could inflict such a crime on those who are yet to see the movie.<br />
<br />
“Inception” is a movie that works on every level. It is a racy heist movie that still has great emotional depth – something that is extremely difficult and rare. With that alone, “Inception” won half the battle. Add to that the brilliant cinematography, the effective use (not overuse, thank God) of CGI, and the fearless use of grandeur to create the grand scale of dreams; and “Inception” becomes a visual masterpiece. Top it off with a stellar star cast who play their parts perfectly and you are presented with sheer movie magic.<br />
<br />
But the star of the show is none other than Christopher Nolan. As the writer, he has created a story that is truly unique in its originality, level of detail and sheer “out of the box” concept. His screenplay ensures that the viewers are not just lazily absorbing the movie – that they are active participants in the elaborate puzzle that is “Inception”. As the director, he creates a work of art that uses every aspect of film making to its optimum level to ensure that viewers are rewarded with an experience that is unlike anything they would have experienced before. He truly deserves all the accolades that this movie will undoubtedly bring him. <br />
<br />
Usually, I find it difficult to rate movies and prefer to avoid it. But this one is a no-brainer. Five stars and two big thumbs up for the work of art that is “Inception”.Rahul MDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11448938920453501288noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6071451907070681189.post-50740262414155530992010-03-08T17:46:00.001-08:002010-03-08T17:48:58.316-08:00The Event<div style="font-family: inherit;"><meta content="text/html; charset=utf-8" http-equiv="Content-Type"></meta><meta content="Word.Document" name="ProgId"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 12" name="Generator"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 12" name="Originator"></meta><link href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5Cashokind%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml" rel="File-List"></link><link href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5Cashokind%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_themedata.thmx" rel="themeData"></link><link href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5Cashokind%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_colorschememapping.xml" rel="colorSchemeMapping"></link><style>
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;">Govind was still trying to come to terms with what had happened so far. Things had started innocently enough, just like any other day. But now, it seemed that history was in the making. Govind shivered at the thought.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;">Time seemed to be moving very slowly. The tension Govind was going through was too immense. He knew he was not alone. This was something that would touch many lives. How would people react? This would be something that would be remembered for years to come. Life would no longer be the same anymore. The rules of the game would be changed forever, so to speak. Govind started pacing up and down, the suspense getting the better of him. He started praying furiously.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;">“It was fate. How else could one explain that it was exactly this day that I had to be here at this time?” Govind thought to himself again and again. The television channels would burst out with the news, the newspapers would be splashed with reports on how it all happened. But that would not be until later. Govind started thinking about the commotion that would start afterwards. He realized he was sweating, despite the cool environment.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;">The events had unfolded in a manner that made the final outcome look almost inevitable. No one would have thought at the start of it all that it would amount to this. But now, there could be no doubt. It would happen. There was no stopping it. Govind found it almost impossible to contain the mix of excitement and fear. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;">But now things looked a little different. It almost seemed like time would run out. “So, there still is some unpredictability to the proceedings after all.” Govind thought. Exciting things were still happening, but it looked like it would not end the way Govind had anticipated it to end. Govind felt helpless; wringing his hands that there was nothing he could do either way.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;">After what seemed like an eternity, the stage was set for the final act. It was as if the whole of the universe waited with bated breath to see what would happen. Govind felt that everything was moving in slow motion. He could hear the beating of his heart, louder than ever before. He could sense his breathing, heavy, almost labored. He held his breath as the final act was set to take place. He felt his heart had stopped breathing. And then it happened.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;">The relief flooded into Govind’s body in a rush. He let out a loud sigh. He knew that what had happened would go into the history books, and he was glad he had been a witness to it. He still found it hard to believe. It was like the perfect dream, the greatest fairytale. He thanked God that it had happened in his lifetime. And then he jumped for joy. It had finally happened.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;">Sachin Tendulkar had become the first man to score two hundred runs in a one day international innings.</div>Rahul MDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11448938920453501288noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6071451907070681189.post-2962596864225598952010-03-04T20:01:00.001-08:002010-03-04T20:01:28.655-08:00Love at First Sight<div style="font-family: inherit;"><meta content="text/html; charset=utf-8" http-equiv="Content-Type"></meta><meta content="Word.Document" name="ProgId"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 12" name="Generator"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 12" name="Originator"></meta><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CrAHUL%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml" rel="File-List"></link><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CrAHUL%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_themedata.thmx" rel="themeData"></link><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CrAHUL%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_colorschememapping.xml" rel="colorSchemeMapping"></link><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF/> <w:LidThemeOther>EN-IN</w:LidThemeOther> <w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/> <w:DontVertAlignCellWithSp/> <w:DontBreakConstrainedForcedTables/> <w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/> <w:Word11KerningPairs/> <w:CachedColBalance/> </w:Compatibility> <m:mathPr> <m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/> <m:brkBin m:val="before"/> <m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/> <m:smallFrac m:val="off"/> <m:dispDef/> <m:lMargin m:val="0"/> <m:rMargin m:val="0"/> <m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/> <m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/> <m:intLim m:val="subSup"/> <m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/> </m:mathPr></w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
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</style> <![endif]--> </div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%;">“It’s such a nonsensical idea. How can you just see a person and fall in love with him or her?” Rajeev asked.</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%;">“You’re so unromantic machan...” Neeru responded. “Can’t it happen that you just get a look at someone and feel like you are in heaven?”</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%;">“Thunderbolt!” Tom chipped in.</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%;">“Riiight. You fall in ‘love’ just based on looks without any idea what sort of person he/she is. How superficial is that?”</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%;">“You’re so pissing off man. No wonder you have no girlfriend.”</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%;">“Thank God for that!!!”</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">==================</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%;">It was not until three years of knowing her that Rajeev told Pavithra that he loved her. Two years later, he proposed marriage.</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%;">“Finally!”, Pavithra exclaimed. “It took five years, but atleast now you got the courage!”</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%;">“It wasn’t about courage, Pavi. I wanted to make sure that we were perfect for each other. This isn’t a Hindi movie where the girl and guy just fall in love looking at each other. This is our life.”</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%;">“Hmph. You could have tried to be romantic atleast today.”</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">====================</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%;">Rajeev walked through the corridor of the hospital as if in a trance. The duty nurse was offering soothing words. It didn’t help. As he reached the empty waiting area, he prayed that Pavithra would be alright.</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%;">It seemed like an eternity before a nurse stepped out of the theatre. As she walked towards him, Rajeev prayed furiously. “Congratulations. You’re the father of a beautiful baby girl. The mother is fine too.” Rajeev accepted the small bundle the nurse offered gingerly, trying to be delicate. Looking at his daughter; taking in every tiny detail, Rajeev felt like he was heaven. </div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%;">Tears running down his cheeks, Rajeev laughed silently. It had finally happened to him.</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%;">It was love at first sight. </div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">====================</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%;">P.S: My first attempt at a genre I never thought I would venture into - "Flash Fiction". A word of mention to <a href="http://sujithkamath.blogspot.com/2010/02/mission.html"><span style="color: windowtext; text-decoration: none;">Sujith Kamath's post</span></a> (which I think is a work of genius), which helped open the doors. Thanks dude.</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%;">I hope you guys like this post. Please let me know with your comments.</div>Rahul MDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11448938920453501288noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6071451907070681189.post-12662322945224241232010-02-20T14:31:00.001-08:002010-02-20T14:31:00.313-08:00To Eat Or Not To Eat<meta content="text/html; charset=utf-8" http-equiv="Content-Type"></meta><meta content="Word.Document" name="ProgId"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 12" name="Generator"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 12" name="Originator"></meta><link href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5Cashokind%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml" rel="File-List"></link><link href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5Cashokind%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_themedata.thmx" rel="themeData"></link><link href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5Cashokind%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_colorschememapping.xml" rel="colorSchemeMapping"></link><style>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;">Since I spent the first seventeen years of my life in Dubai and visited India only during the vacations, I was treated as royalty by almost all of my relatives. So, every visit to a relative’s house assured me, (after a lengthy discourse on how thin I had become), a more than healthy supply of food in general, and sweets in particular. This was all fun as a kid, what with me being a food lover and all. However, as one grows (both in age and in waistline), the constant overfeeding loses its appeal drastically. My last trip to Kerala drove the point home like never before.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;">The visit to my aunt’s house started with her eyeing me from top to bottom and exclaiming, “How thin you’ve become!! Don’t they feed you in Bangalore?” I looked at my paunch and then at her, wondering if old age had affected her vision that much. She ushered us into the hall in the hurried manner that is so customary of her, and went about busying herself, muttering “I’ll get you something to eat.” My mom and I gave each other anxious looks, since we knew this was the signal for things to come. Our cries of “We have already had lunch! Please don’t get too much!” were ignored completely. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">My aunt came with a tray full of snacks enough to feed the entire colony, followed by her daughter-in-law who carried tea and biscuits. I made a comment on how much food was on the table, and how it would affect my newly initiated diet plan; to which she replied “Nonsense. You should eat at your age. You can cut down later.” Since this is the same thing she says to my dad, who is 60, I don’t take it seriously. I started eating slowly, spending more time in conversation. However, it isn’t long before she realizes my tactic, and starts chiding me for not eating. The problem with my aunt is that she believes the food she serves is a major part of showing her affection, and she takes our not eating too much very personally. Seeing my inhibitions about gorging everything on the table, she started getting tears in her eyes. I tried to explain to her the law of diminishing marginal utility, only to increase the flow of tears, and getting a discourse on the ill-effects of western influence on my nutrition. It seemed there was no other way. Either I would have to let my aunt stay upset, or I would have to leave her house stuffed enough to burst. </div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">The choice was, surprisingly, not a hard one to make. I patted my paunch and resigned to my fate. It looked like it was here to stay a little longer. I sat down, and tried to stuff myself. My mom pitched in as much as she could. Despite all this, my aunt bid us farewell telling us how little we had eaten. All the same, at least she was happy with our spirited effort. We wobbled out of the house almost ready to burst. There was an unspoken understanding that dinner would not be required that night. But despite everything, we were really happy, and I felt silly about trying to avoid it in the first place. I realized that I would have treated her the same way had she paid a visit to our home. And this got me wondering – why are we so particular about feeding our guests? Why do we coax, cajole and even blackmail them to eat, eat, and eat some more?<br />
<br />
</div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">It is a known fact that Indians love their food. It’s one of the things that bind us as a people. The fact that we go to great lengths to ensure that their guests are properly fed is an indication of how much we care. In a way, we are ensuring that the guest gets the best we have to offer. It’s in our culture to be hospitable to our guests – and it doesn’t matter if you’re rich or poor, old or young, conservative or liberal, Congress supporter or BJP loyalist. After all, isn’t India the land which reveres the phrase “Athithi devo bhava”?</div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">So, the next time you are invited to an Indian house for a meal or otherwise, don’t fret about how much you will have to eat. Be happy that their affection for you will be served with some delicious food. Just go with an open mind, a healthy appetite and loose pants.</div>Rahul MDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11448938920453501288noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6071451907070681189.post-77088765244000591082010-01-16T01:07:00.000-08:002010-03-04T20:10:03.331-08:00The day we raided Marrybrown<meta content="text/html; charset=utf-8" http-equiv="Content-Type"></meta><meta content="Word.Document" name="ProgId"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 12" name="Generator"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 12" name="Originator"></meta><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CrAHUL%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml" rel="File-List" style="font-family: inherit;"></link><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CrAHUL%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_themedata.thmx" rel="themeData" style="font-family: inherit;"></link><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CrAHUL%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_colorschememapping.xml" rel="colorSchemeMapping" style="font-family: inherit;"></link><style>
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<div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">The last of the CA PE-I exams (foundation exams, if you will) was over. Six students stood outside the examination centre, a strange mix of frustration and relief flooding them. Relief because the exams were over, marking the end of a month long toil. Frustration because all of them were sure they would fail the exams. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">We talked for a while about how badly each of us had screwed the exam. Before we knew it, our stomachs were growling. Since no one was in the mood to go home, we decided to eat outside. As we left the school, we saw a Marrybrown outlet. What’s more, there was an “all you can eat” offer. It was a no-brainer. The six of us entered the empty outlet, and two waiters sprang into attention. They walked toward us with pamphlets. We shouted “Six all you can eats!!” to save them the effort of coming to our table. The message was relayed to the kitchen, and soon enough, our table was covered with burgers, chicken, fries and drinks. What followed can be termed a “blitzkrieg”. The plates were empty so fast that we had caught the waiters off guard. We had signalled our intent. Refill after refill came, but it seemed our hunger was insatiable. All the frustration and the anger that was in us were taken out on the food that kept coming to our table. It was like we were men possessed (probably by very, very hungry spirits). <o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Soon, the situation came where the waiters started getting genuinely worried. They started shifting around uneasily, and urgent messages were relayed to the kitchen area. At one point, when we complained about the slow service (which was totally unjustified, in retrospect), a waitress came and in a choked voice, told us “Sir, please understand. It takes some time for us to prepare it. We have to give it fresh and hot.” I felt bad for her; and gave an angry glare to my friend who complained “Hmph! So much for fast food!” I gave her my best smile and told her “It’s okay. Take your time.” My complaining friend, who had caught my glare, returned a sheepish grin. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">But that was as much sympathy as the staff got. They didn’t have a moment’s respite, as our plates and glasses got empty faster than you could say “Marrybrown”. Soon, the time came when they were all cleaned out. The waitress came to us, almost trembling, and broke the news. Surprisingly, everyone stayed calm on hearing the tragedy, much to the relief of the waitress. She didn’t stay relieved long though. “There was something about all you can eat ice cream”, I commented. She sighed, defeated, and said “Yes sir, I’ll get it.” <o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">The all you can ice creams were the small vanilla cups you get for Rs.5 or so. They were in a small cabinet. “You may want to bring the entire cabinet here”, one of us said. The waitress considered our suggestion in all seriousness for a moment, and then decided that it wasn’t an option. If she thought that would slow us down, she was grossly mistaken. The cabinet was emptied with the same efficiency with which we had emptied the kitchen. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">At the end of it all, we sat at our table, finally content. All the frustration was gone, and we were at peace now. We laughed, joked, made plans for the next day, and of course, burped out loud. The bill came to our table, and we left a generous tip. As we left the place, I noticed that the manager was having an urgent conversation with his waiters (probably discussing if there was a possibility of keeping the outlet open till night, given that they would have to get a whole set of supplies). I know it is a cliché, but if I were to sum up our visit to Marrybrown, all I can say is “We came. We saw. We conquered.” <o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Not long afterwards, as I was passing the area where the outlet was located, I saw that the Marrybrown outlet was closed. I am not suggesting anything, but then it was also interesting to note that the “all you can eat” offers that were there in many of the fast food outlets in Chennai stopped after a few months. If there were a few more cases like ours, I can’t blame them. </span><o:p></o:p></div>Rahul MDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11448938920453501288noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6071451907070681189.post-86693369630836945072010-01-08T21:55:00.001-08:002010-01-08T22:59:48.214-08:00Proud to be an Indian?Are you proud to be an Indian? I know if I put forth this question to anyone of you, pat will come the response - “YES!!” But hold on. Don’t give me an answer that has been programmed in your head, and don’t give me an answer that is all heart. For this is a vital question that really needs to be pondered over, and its significance is huge.<br />
<br />
What do we have to be proud of as an Indian? There are a lot of things. The first thing that comes into mind is, almost always, our rich cultural heritage. Not only do we have a rich and diverse culture that has survived the test of time, our earlier generations were pioneers in many fields, and many of their achievements are even marvelled at today. We can be proud of the fact that we have embraced all cultures, and live in harmony despite our differences. “Unity in diversity”. There is our independence struggle, which brought forth many heroes and was perhaps the first freedom struggle to showcase non-violent methods as an effective force. India has taken leaps and strides in its 62 years of independence, and is now a world power to be reckoned with.<br />
<br />
But look at these reasons. Don’t you think we are constantly looking at the past for things to be proud of? Sure, the past is definitely something to be proud of, but is it enough? What about today? What can you say that you are proud of now? Unity in diversity? We all know the reality to that – politicians using the weapon of religious politics have ripped apart our unity, not unlike the ‘Divide and rule’ policy adopted by the British. The people who once were ready to embrace all that was good, no matter what the religious background; and who said that all people on earth were their kinsmen, today cannot even tolerate people practicing their own set of values. As for the progress chart of our country, our position in the world is something we can be proud of. But what of the situation within the country? Sure, we have come a long way, but was this all we could achieve in 62 years?<br />
<br />
I know what you will say. Every country has problems. It is not just exclusive to India. And I don’t disagree. But this brings me to the vital point. We talk about the shortcomings of our country (which have been there for a very long time, mind you) in such a matter-of-fact way. We don’t feel even slightly upset about the plight of our nation, which we are apparently very proud of. When someone talks about all the ills of India, we nod our understanding and sympathetically shake our head and mutter “This country will never improve!” in disgust. <br />
<br />
Being proud of one’s country isn’t only about standing at attention and singing the national anthem. It isn’t only about shedding a tear or getting inspired when a patriotic movie is on. It isn’t only about supporting the national team at sporting events. It may include these. There is a common misconception in India that being proud of India is all about shouting the virtues of our country on a loudspeaker, while blinding ourselves of all the problems that face the nation. “I love my India, whatever it be, however it be.” Noble, but is it enough?<br />
<br />
Isn’t patriotism or being proud of one’s country about loving the country enough to look at the problems it faces? Wouldn’t a patriotic person feel upset about the fact that his/her nation is lacking so much, when it has so much potential? Wouldn’t he/she be so distraught over the plight of his/her nation that taking action would seem like the only step left?<br />
<br />
Today, apathy is a disease affecting each and every Indian. The “chalta-hai” attitude of her people has become India’s curse. Indians talk about India with a hopelessness. How can such people say that they are proud of India, if they think there is no hope for India?<br />
<br />
As proud Indians, shouldn't we join hands and move towards a common goal – to take India to where it can, and should be? Isn’t it time we actually made an effort to shed our apathy, our helplessness, and try to act? Don’t we all deserve a country which is the pride of its people and which is looked at in awe by the world? I think we do. And I think it is time we made our love for our India count. After all, we believe we are proud to be Indians, don’t we?Rahul MDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11448938920453501288noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6071451907070681189.post-62081441556701627022010-01-07T18:02:00.000-08:002010-03-04T20:11:56.453-08:00Sherlock Holmes Movie Review<meta content="text/html; charset=utf-8" http-equiv="Content-Type"></meta><meta content="Word.Document" name="ProgId"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 12" name="Generator"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 12" name="Originator"></meta><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CrAHUL%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml" rel="File-List" style="font-family: inherit;"></link><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CrAHUL%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_themedata.thmx" rel="themeData" style="font-family: inherit;"></link><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CrAHUL%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_colorschememapping.xml" rel="colorSchemeMapping" style="font-family: inherit;"></link><style>
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<div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s evergreen creation, the sleuth Sherlock Holmes whose intellectual capabilities have always left readers spellbound, has been brought to the screen before. Now Guy Ritchie tries his hand at it, and how! The movie explores characteristics of Sherlock that have been mentioned in the book, but seldom made their way into the television adaptations. A lot of effort has gone into defining the nuances of the character; notably the eccentric nature, the adeptness in martial arts and his relationship with Watson. The movie also takes some distinct turns away from the book – the witty exchanges, Holmes’ disregard for personal hygiene, the fast pace and the importance to action. The end result is a facelift for Sherlock Holmes from the stuffy, tight upper lipped intellectual to a modern, eccentric genius, more suited to today’s audiences.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">The movie starts with Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson capturing Lord Blackwood, who has murdered five women in his practice of black magic. Lord Blackwood is sentenced to death by hanging, though he warns Holmes that this was only the beginning and that he would rise from the dead. And true to his word, he does. It is now up to Sherlock and Watson to stop him before he succeeds in his plan of ruling England, and then the world. And, to make matters worse, Holmes has to deal with Watson’s relationship with Mary Morstan and the fact that Watson will no longer be his partner. What follows is a whirlwind ride with twists and turns, the beautiful but deceptive Irene Adler, a secret society, a huge French speaking adversary, and innumerable perilous sequences, all leading to a conclusion that is pure Sherlock in its logic and completeness. To give out any more of the plot would be sacrilege, which I do not intend.</span><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">The movie is different from other Guy Ritchie movies (thankfully showcasing that he can be versatile), though many of his creative styles and trademarks are evident. He skilfully handles the job of reinventing Holmes while maintaining the essence of the novels. I can’t say this is his best movie, but it is definitely not short on style or substance – thanks to a good screenplay (though over the top at times), great camerawork and smart editing. The scenes where Holmes anticipates incidents in his mind are noteworthy. And let’s not forget the art direction, which brings the late 19<sup>th</sup> century England to life. The feel is further accentuated by Hans Zimmer's unique score.</span><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">As for performances, Robert Downey Jr. and Jude Law are perfectly cast as the lead pair. The chemistry they share as the squabbling duo is one of the highlights of the movie. Mark Strong gives a chilling performance as Lord Blackwood. Rachel McAdams is efficient as Irene Adler, though she may not have been able to hold her own among the other performances. The rest of the cast provide able support.</span><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">So, what’s the final verdict, you ask? Elementary, my dear Watson. The movie is fast paced, action packed, and also exercises your grey cells; in short - a winner. Some may argue that the movie could have been better, but no one can dispute that it is a fun filled ride.</span><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">For my astronomically inclined readers who suggested that I introduce the star rating system for my reviews, ****. </span><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div>Rahul MDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11448938920453501288noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6071451907070681189.post-15693096531045210962009-12-26T22:46:00.001-08:002010-03-04T20:13:43.409-08:003 Idiots Movie review<meta content="text/html; charset=utf-8" http-equiv="Content-Type"></meta><meta content="Word.Document" name="ProgId"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 12" name="Generator"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 12" name="Originator"></meta><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CrAHUL%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml" rel="File-List" style="font-family: inherit;"></link><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CrAHUL%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_themedata.thmx" rel="themeData" style="font-family: inherit;"></link><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CrAHUL%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_colorschememapping.xml" rel="colorSchemeMapping" style="font-family: inherit;"></link><style>
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<div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: small;">“3 idiots”, the latest offering from the Raju Hirani-Vidhu Vinod Chopra team has definitely been different for them; atleast with respect to the level of hype created prior to the movie’s release. And with good reason. For one, it comes three years after the hugely successful “Lage Raho Munnabhai”. Secondly, it is loosely based on Chetan Bhagat’s cult novel “Five point someone”. Add to that a stellar starcast that includes Kareena Kapoor, Boman Irani, Sharman Joshi, R. Madhavan and, of course, Aamir Khan. If this does not generate hype, I don’t know what will!! Now that the movie is out, the big question is, “Does it deliver?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: small;">Thankfully, in this case, Aal izz Well. Very very well indeed. Despite a run time of almost three hours (Hirani’s longest movie to date), the movie is never boring. Like his other two movies, this too is a clean, light hearted entertainer that extols virtues like friendship, caring for others, and all the other good stuff; and proves that you don’t need cheap thrills to make a successful movie in Bollywood. For this could be Hirani’s most successful movie yet.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: small;">The movie starts with Farhan (R. Madhavan) and Raju (Sharman Joshi) embarking on a journey in search of their long lost friend, Rancchoddas Shyamaldas Chanchad aka Ranco (Aamir Khan). The journey takes them down memory lane to the halls of Imperial College of Engineering, where the three met, and they revisit the various events that shaped and indeed changed their lives. As the movie progresses in flashback, we are shown the unique bonding of the three idiots, amidst the hardships of life in a premier engineering college, made all the more terrible by the autocratic dean Professor Viru Sahasrtrabuddhe (ViruS, as the students “lovingly” call him). Add to that Rancho’s romance with ViruS’ daughter Pia (Kareena Kapoor), conflicts with the college nerd Chatur Ramalingam (Omi Vaidya in an impressive debut) and the enmity between Rancho and ViruS caused by Rancho’s revolutionary antics, and we have a full fledged college movie.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: small;">Like the Munnabhai movies, “3 Idiots” works primarily on the strength of its script, breezy narration and well defined characters. While the movie may not be as well written as “Munnabhai MBBS”, the movie still works on every level. The fact that some of the gags are not original does not make them any less funny. However, the movie does slip into melodrama mode at certain times (probably to emphasise the seriousness of the subject of pressure on students); and one scene does verge on absolute stupidity (the scene where a baby is born). The second half does stretch a bit, but has some very powerful scenes forming the core of the film’s message (notably the conversation between Farhan and his father, and Raju’s job interview), so you won’t really mind. Music, like in every other Hirani movie, is more suited to the script than standalone listening, though “Aal izz well” and “Give me some sunshine” deserve repeated listening to.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: small;">As expected, the performances in “3 Idiots” are brilliant, and star-power gives way to the script. Kareena Kapoor does justice to Pia, despite limited screentime. Boman Irani has shown why he is a constant in all of the Hirani movies; he just becomes ViruS, who epitomises the rigidity of the college. Omi Vaidya has made his character (which could have easily become a caricature) flesh and blood. Watch him especially in the scene where he delivers a speech in Hindi. Absolutely mind blowing. A word of mention to the guy who plays Millimetre – he really makes an impression. Let’s also not forget the beautiful IIM – B campus, which becomes a character in itself. As for leads, R. Madhavan as Farhan proves that he is an actor equally watchable in Hindi as he is in Tamil. Sharman Joshi delivers a marvellous performance as Raju, the scared idiot with his share of family troubles. It’s hard to imagine another actor in his role. Last but not the least, the man who can transform himself to any character – Aamir Khan. It never crosses your mind that this is the same person who was a revenge seeking hulk just last year in “Ghajini”. Aamir Khan is Rancho in his every pore, as he adds one more to his list of outstanding performances. The chemistry between the three leads makes the movie.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: small;">To sum up, the worst thing you can say about “3 idiots” is “It’s nice”. It is definitely one of the best movies in a year which has seen quite a few impressive movies. And what’s more, it just adds to the festive spirit. Go ahead, enjoy yourself. “Aal izz well”, maamu.<o:p></o:p></span></div>Rahul MDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11448938920453501288noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6071451907070681189.post-76890078852352626792009-11-15T09:54:00.000-08:002010-03-04T20:18:34.636-08:00Thr3e months in hell - Memoirs from my study leave<meta content="text/html; charset=utf-8" http-equiv="Content-Type"></meta><meta content="Word.Document" name="ProgId"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 12" name="Generator"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 12" name="Originator"></meta><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CrAHUL%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml" rel="File-List" style="font-family: inherit;"></link><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CrAHUL%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_themedata.thmx" rel="themeData" style="font-family: inherit;"></link><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CrAHUL%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_colorschememapping.xml" rel="colorSchemeMapping" style="font-family: inherit;"></link><style>
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<div align="center" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">"Long is the way, and hard, that out of hell leads up to light." - John Milton<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: small;">The life of a C.A. student isn’t easy. It’s a saga of struggle, despair, hope, hopelessness, insanity, sacrifice; and all the other elements that go into making a ‘70s Hindi movie. And that’s the biggest problem… just like our Hindi movies, a C.A. student’s life also stretches to what seems like eternity.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: small;">One can safely say (and I am sure those who know me will agree), that I am not a conventional C.A. student. For starters, I am not particularly fond of most of the subjects, tend to fool around when I need to study, have an attention span of five minutes for all academic purposes, never stick to my plans, and am definitely not in the habit of daily studies. Not to mention sleeping in class, always being on the phone, living on movies rather than study material (or even food)… you get the drift.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: small;">Like everyone else, the day I cleared my C.A. PE II exam, I decided that I would study everyday for my finals. But, like everyone else, I didn’t. No sir, the entire ocean of C.A. final exam studies came crashing down like a tsunami in the three months before my exams, i.e., my study leave.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: small;">As I awoke on August 1<sup>st</sup>, my first thoughts were not about attacking my books; it was about the movie reviews in “The Times of India”. After I had performed this all important task, I chalked up a plan – 10 days for each subject, leaving me with 10 days for revision!! Planning phase complete! The sheer simplicity of it reflected the true genius (or stupidity, call it what you will) of its creator.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: small;">Thus began the journey… I trudged along, trying to study for more than 4 hours a day, amidst distractions created by Oriya music (courtesy my cook), Bhojpuri music videos (courtesy my roommate), and necessities like the telephone, television, sleep, etc. And of course, there were the classes for Costing, Law and Direct Tax. By the time August was over, I had finished running through MAFA, auditing and MICS, and had forgotten every word I had read. But at least I was going as per plan.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: small;">I think it was September 1<sup>st</sup> (I had lost track of time by then), when the nightmares started. Since I was attending costing classes, and studying solving MAFA or accounts at home, most of my thoughts revolved around sums. I would dream at night that I was furiously solving some huge sum. But then, I knew that I was dreaming (probably because I realized that if I were solving the sum so well, I had to be dreaming). It was like I was watching myself as a third person viewer, and thinking “I don’t remember seeing this sum anywhere, but then since I am solving it so well, it must be there somewhere.” I would wake up with a start and frantically look into my books for anything bearing even the slightest resemblance to the sum. By the time I realized that I would never find the sum, I had lost my sleep and would wearily hit the books again.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: small;">The days zoomed past, and my studies crawled ahead. Amidst power-cuts, “Rock On”, a visit home, “A Wednesday”, phone calls, “Drona” (shudder), feelings of damnation, and classes I couldn’t follow, I tried to push in as much information into my head as I could. Things had actually started looking positive as October came in. But of course, the worst was yet to come.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: small;">Most professors who teach the Indian Income Tax Act, 1961, say that they prefer the subject to remain difficult. “How would chartered accountants earn if the law was simple that anyone could read it?” I have to admit that the point is valid; but then how can they expect us to pass the exams? Income tax is a subject that I dread, and I had left it for the last month. When I told this to friends, they were surprised. But then, they came up with as many suggestions as they could so that I could keep up with my schedule. For the first time in the past three months, I was scared to even open my books. I prayed to God to give me strength. I spent a lot of time on the phone, crying about my situation and listening to words of encouragement from the other end. I think that may have been the only thing that kept me going at that point of time.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: small;">After getting a new hairdo at Tirupati, and moving into a new house on the auspicious occasion of Diwali (I hoped that moving in during the festival of lights would somehow miraculously shield our house from power-cuts. I was wrong, of course). My few days of revision involved looking at a few pages per subject per day, burning the midnight oil, and crying about how I had wasted so much time in life. I kept scratching my newly acquired bald plate, thinking about how badly I had screwed up.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: small;">The time had come, all too soon. My three months of toil, sweat and tears had all lead to this. I reached the exam center in Jayanagar to attend my accountancy exam. I was equipped with all the necessary stationery. I found some friends with whom to exchange last minute woes. Somehow, it seemed I was the only one with the woes in the world of confident C.A.s to be. Probably the phone was a better idea. I called up the one person who had undying faith in me, and who had emotionally carried me through the last three months – Shachi, my girlfriend. Being a non-C.A. and a recently qualified MBA graduate, she was the only one who understood me but was still non-judgmental. “You will clear. I just know it!” she would say defiantly to all my comments on how I was so dead. “How on earth can you say that???” “I don’t know… And I don’t care! All I know is, you will clear!” These words, though crazy, were deeply comforting. Reassured, I sat to write the exam. And I got royally screwed.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: small;">Most people said that the one day leave between exams is a welcome gift for students. Although I am thankful for this day, the emotional turmoil that I went through during these days makes me wonder if this is actually a boon or a curse. Seeing how my accounts paper had gone, I decided to rethink my strategy. Not for studies of course (It was too late for that), but on the stuff I did before the exam. I decided on a new routine. I shaved before the night of the second exam. Before I left for the exam, I would watch a ‘certain’ genre of short movies (people who know me best can guess what I am talking about), just like I used to before exams in college. “It relaxes you, and at the same time stimulates you.” That was my explanation. After my ritual phone call, I sat for my MAFA paper. It went surprisingly well, thus deciding my pre-exam ritual for the next six papers.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: small;">After the other five exams went pretty well (other than the fact that all the questions I thought were important for auditing were considered unimportant by the examiners, I had an emotional breakdown before my law paper, my costing answer paper had many empty pages in between, I wrote nonsense in my MICS paper, and almost fainted before my direct tax paper), the unthinkable happened. The day before the indirect tax paper, the electricity at my house went off, and refused to come back. Panicking, I went to a nearby building using a generator to ask if I could study. They flatly refused, earning my curses. By the time I was about to leave for my friend’s house to study, the electricity came back. God, and BESCOM, have a weird sense of humor.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: small;">Finally, the day had arrived. My last exam! As hard as I tried to focus on the task of studying, all I could think of was whatever I had thought of doing after the exams all through my study leave. I wasn’t really scared of the exam, since it was the easiest paper in the last attempt. In the morning, the electricity went off again. This would have been ok, except for the fact that my ritual would be broken. I used the little battery left in my laptop to watch at least something. What can I say, desperate times call for desperate measures (not that kind of desperate, you moron!!). I went for the exam with a weird feeling in my stomach. Shachi told me I was crazy. The exam came. And I got screwed.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: small;">I won’t go into the details of my post-exam depression. Needless to say, my post-exam plans of fun were washed by the tears I cried in my mind. My struggle had ended in tragedy, thanks to my first and last paper. It hurt. But now there was nothing to do, except wait and watch… and pray.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: small;">Looking back at it all, I realize how dumb I was, and how inadequate my preparation. But would I have prepared any other way? Honestly, I don’t know. Crazy as it may seem, I actually enjoyed my study leave. I know I study best under pressure. I enjoy the rush. Just like a rollercoaster ride. But maybe this was a bit too close for comfort. Who knows?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: small;">Like I said, the life of a C.A. student isn’t easy. In fact, it is downright difficult. But then, maybe it should be. After all, isn’t the path to salvation beset with all sorts of trials and tribulations? Isn’t that what makes everyone value it all the more? Or am I just talking a lot of crap? Whatever may be the case, I believe that it’s all worth it. I just wish it wasn’t oh-so-hard.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: small;"><u>Disclaimer:</u> Don’t try my study methods for your exams. Please!<o:p></o:p></span></div>Rahul MDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11448938920453501288noreply@blogger.com6