A Nobel Laureate, An Astronaut and Naseeruddin Shah –Too Much for an Old Mic like me.

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   Myself Mr. Mic-Swamy

Namasgaram , I am myself, Mr. Mic-Swamy. I belong to this place called the IIT

of Kharagpur; It is the Indian US of A. When I was very small, one toddler you can say, my parents, the good old Gramophones of yesteryears [ God Bless Them ] had high dreams for me like every decent Indian parent. Of course, they noted from our own superstar films that you can become an engineer by studying in an Engineering College but cannot become the president by studying in Madras Presidency College. One big bummer in the path of their dreams for my future. So, they chose the former and sent me here.

                                           

From childhood only my hero was Rajnikanth. Abba, yenna class, yenna action! Super! My hero noted that you can see tea in a teacup but not the whole world in the WorldCup. That was the, what you say, Turning Point in my sports life. I stopped watching the Blue Men of India.

With my mother, the Gramophone

With My mother, the Gramophone

So far away from home, I was also missing my mother. I thought then that I will get into this IT and Y2K thing because of what everyone called Motherboard. But my dreams crashed like one lungi falling off when I saw it! My Devi sang such lovely lullabies while all this size-zero thing did was to make horrible noises..hiss..chchk..bham. Chee, chee. Shameless thing! No decency it had only!

This whole world is about the tailam [oil] – cash, in more gentlemanly terms. So, without one job also how long I will last, you say? Finally, I went to this place called the Sound Systems Unit. If the motherboard and her assistants were noisy, this place was untolerable! Abbabaaa! My sensitive eardrums which could pick out even the slightest octave change in my Devi’s voice were now going crazy. Ayyappa Swamy sharanam Ayappa, Save me!! I screamed only.

But they had a job. All I had to do was to stand where they put me – and you know, those rascals, they stuck me to this unclean, cold piece of metal. It didn’t even look as first-class as the tons of Gold I had seen back home. God only knows when was the last time it had polished itself nicely! Third class! Full third class only!

                        Shiny Loafers and the First Class Mics of YesteryearsShiny Loafers and the First Class Mics of Yesteryears

Shiny Loafers and the First Class Mics of Yesteryears

Anyway, I stopped grumbling when they told they will take care of me fully. It was then that I realised my worth. All big-big, long lines were useless without me. Everything had to be put to me for voice. Devi’s tutoring during childhood had shown me my success. Amma, you really are my Devi, i say! With that began my life and youth took off.

Twenty years later, I have remained more or less the same. No marriage, I am living with myself. I spend my time contemplating about life, the tasty coconut rice back home, how much gold is weighing now and so on. Now, two days ago they requested my permission that some fellow celebrities wish to accompany me on some lecture. You see, when guests come, they always come to local heroes like me and pay homage. Old is Gold, mind it. I am the only one they trust. Not these shiny loafers of nowadays with too many buttons and switches.

Of course, I did my background work like any veteran before consenting. This was a festival of the modern world. Lots of young students, some old people, some crazy dancing which I absolutely disapproved of at first sight itself! It reminded me of the motherboard only! If only, time had worsened things! But my job was admired and respected. Thousands would attend when I was to be on stage, they told me. I readied myself for a comeback.

                     Myself and the Centrestage

Myself and the Centrestage

I was given a luxurious bath and put to a new rod. Thankfully clean! Over the years they had learnt better than to put me off with those dirty metal pieces. Cables came. The power was on. Sounds checked. And LIGHTS! The stage – my homeground.

 

Nobel Laureate Sir James Mirlees First was a nobel Laureate. An old man with white hair. I liked him, my generation you see. But he was talking and talking like he was dancing. Up and down. Abba, if only Rajni sir would give him a crash course – then he would be super at Indian English! Simply Super! Anyway, I had to cover up for him. SO, I brought everything onto one line. I made him ten times slower, how my audience will know otherwise? And after one hour, everybody clapped for my hard work. Ah, how nice it felt!       

       Nobel Laureate Sir James Mirlees     

If the noble was funny, the next person – one Astronaut who Astronaut Paulo Nespoligrew four inches in Space was too good, anna! Abba! Swept me off my feet! I was so enthralled that the people had to spend two whole minutes bringing me up again. Yenna class! Only one drawback he had. He was too tall. That rod was short, like average Indian. So I had to again do some covering up. I became loud. Put all my God given energy to give a masterpiece performance. Again, I was appreciated with loud banging applause. And that kind astronaut, he realised I was tired. SO he bowed on my behalf. Nice foreign manners I say!                                             

Astronaut Paulo Nespoli                   Bollywood Actor Naseeruddin Shah

Finally, to conclude I told the manager I want one bright Indian. What man, no brains left in our people aa, getting all foreigners? So, they arranged for a Bollywood person. Naseeruddin Shah. Again, my class. 24 Carat Gold Class. Smooth and Shining even in Old Age. The crowd loved me this time. They went dizzy shouting and laughing at my sense of humour. And to not disappoint that old man, I gave him a minute or so of stage time too when I went into hibernation so he could do whatever he wanted. But that also he doesn’t know! Kept on waking me up. All these people! They can’t do anything without veterans like me! How humbling!

So, I came back to centrestage. Gave them all what they kept asking for. At the end of the day, that is what an actor should do, what say? Entertain the people. And mind it, I do it well.

  Bollywood Actor Naseeruddin Shah

After three performances packed in one weekend, performing to fully packed people, I felt happy. Like after some polishing with pure coconut oil. I was still loved. Devi, your son has really made you proud. Thanks, Amma!

With this, I went back to my space. Contemplating until another day when I had something to share with the world. I will call someone again. Maybe I have reached a stage where I can demand Rajni Sir, what say!

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Agneepath 2012: A fitting remake with Sporadic Sparkles.

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Agneepath, Release date: January 26th 2012

Remakes, they are strange. People have sky-high expectations and nostalgia ruling their minds all the time, while they are busy judging the new flick against the old classic.

You can not copy the original. Neither can you miss the essence. Especially when the legendary original one itself has been inspired by a movie as raw and as brilliant as Scarface and features Amitabh Bachchan introducing himself as one Vijay Deenanath Chauhan.

What do you do? What can you do? The only way out is not to copy anyone. Neither Al Pacino, nor Amitabh Bacchan. Let Hrithik be Hrithik.

Exactly what the 2012 version of Agneepath does. And that’s why it somehow clicks.

Tony Montana     Vijay Deenanath Chauhan       Another Vijay Deenanath Chauhan

The story is definitely not new. It’s somehow the timing in contemporary  hindi cinema that makes Agneepath a bit different from the tech freak dons and robots and eurotrip-zindagis and DK Boses and pervert Behls of 2011.

‘A schoolmaster’s son revenging his father’s murder amid the expanding drug empire in the Mumbai of the 1990s.’

Though the movie is full of stars, it all boils down to an angry and grave Vijay (Hrithik), a voldemort-Kurtzish demon drug king Kancha (Sanjay Dutt), and a heavyweight fox-eyed girl-trafficker Rauf Lala (Rishi Kapoor).

Piyush Mishra’s dialogues are on the heavier side. Sometimes, they overpower, sometimes they irritate. Kancha’s excessive recitation of the Bhagwad Gita confuses us. At times he looks and behaves like a dickhead, and at times, he seems filled with immense spiritual wisdom. Intentional or not, but it does add to the dark villainy, typically present in the movies of 80’s and 90’s, and generally absent 2000 onwards. The look builds on Brando’s colonel Kurtz in Apocalypse now, and the unpredictability grows on the excessive muscles of Dutt.

Sanjay and Marlon. Voldemorts with noses.

Overall setting looks very impressive. On rare occasions do you see a remake making the story frame more archaic and mystic than the original one.

Hrithik might not have surpassed Amitabh, but Sanjay Dutt definitely goes beyond Danny. And in style.

One good thing about this agneepath is that hrithik in no way has even tried to attempt Amitabh’s demeanor. Even when he says,

“ Vijay Deenanath Chauhan, Poora Naam. Baap ka Naam, Deenanath Chauhan, Gaon Mandwa. ”

All we can see is his intense dialogue delivery and emotions flexing in sync with his muscles. The movie also scores real high amid the unpredictability of the characters. The background score is alarmingly loud, but the overall effect that gets created with darkening clouds, people getting hanged from dried banyan trees, screeching drum beats and a monsterous devil Kancha reciting verses of Bhagwad Gita while conspiring to become the drug king of Mumbai is a bit overwhelming.

Reference to Harivansh Rai Bachchan’s ‘Agnipath’ poem is mesmerizing, and does send chills down the spine, especially when these lines are uttered in different frames:

यह महान दृश्य है,

चल रहा मनुष्य है

अश्रु स्वेद रक्त से

लथपथ, लथपथ, लथपथ.

अग्निपथ, अग्निपथ, अग्निपथ.

Alok K.

Jan 26th, 2012

P.S. Priyanka Chopra has been wasted. Om Puri’s character has been denied justice. The scene with Hrithik and Priyanka running on the beach with his 15 years old sister holding a bunch of balloons is just not digested. But more than anything else sucks that damned ‘Chikni Chameli’. She’s the worst addition Karan Malhotra could add to his tribute to the original. In the song, both the hero and the villain look equally embarrassed by the “butt-batting” of Katrina!

The last thing Kancha and Vijay would have wanted in the movie was Chikni Chameli. Ah Bollywood! :|

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To the ‘Republic’ of India

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Will she be able to maintain it or will she lose it again

Mr. B.R. Ambedkar on the Constituent Assembly:

(From the Constituent Assembly debates volume 11)

“I feel, however good a Constitution may be, it is sure to turn out bad because those who are called to work it, happen to be a bad lot. However bad a Constitution may be, it may turn out to be good if those who are called to work it, happen to be a good lot. The working of a Constitution does not depend wholly upon the nature of the Constitution. The Constitution can provide only the organs of State such as the Legislature, the Executive and the Judiciary. The factors on which the working of those organs of the State depend are the people and the political parties they will set up as their instruments to carry out their wishes and their politics.  If they adopt the revolutionary methods, however good the Constitution may be, it requires no prophet to say that it will fail. It is, therefore, futile to pass any judgement upon the Constitution without reference to the part which the people and their parties are likely to play.

….On 26th January 1950, India will be an independent country (Cheers). What would happen to her independence? Will she maintain her independence or will she lose it again? This is the first thought that comes to my mind. It is not that India was never an independent country. The point is that she once lost the independence she had. Will she lose it a second time? It is this thought which makes me most anxious for the future. What perturbs me greatly is the fact that not only India has once before lost her independence, but she lost it by the infidelity and treachery of some of her own people. In the invasion of Sind by Mahommed-Bin-Kasim, the military commanders of King Dahar accepted bribes from the agents of Mahommed-Bin-Kasim and refused to fight on the side of their King. It was Jaichand who invited Mahommed Gohri to invade India and fight against Prithvi Raj and promised him the help of himself and the Solanki Kings. When Shivaji was fighting for the liberation of Hindus, the other Maratha noblemen and the Rajput Kings were fighting the battle on the side of Moghul Emperors. When the British were trying to destroy the Sikh Rulers, Gulab Singh, their principal commander sat silent and did not help to save the Sikh Kingdom. In 1857, when a large part of India had declared a war of independence against the British, the Sikhs stood and watched the event as silent spectators.

Will history repeat itself? It is this thought which fills me with anxiety. This anxiety is deepened by the realization of the fact that in addition to our old enemies in the form of castes and creeds we are going to have many political parties with diverse and opposing political creeds. Will Indians place the country above their creed or will they place creed above country? I do not know. But this much is certain that if the parties place creed above country, our independence will be put in jeopardy a second time and probably be lost for ever. This eventuality we must all resolutely guard against. We must be determined to defend our independence with the last drop of our blood.

On the 26th of January 1950, India would be a democratic country in the sense that India from that day would have a government of the people, by the people and for the people. The same thought comes to my mind. What would happen to her democratic Constitution? Will she be able to maintain it or will she lose it again. This is the second thought that comes to my mind and makes me as anxious as the first.”

Sir Subash Chandra Bose addressing the INA:

“Let me remind you that you have a two-fold task to perform. With the force of arms and at the cost of your blood you will have to win liberty. Then, when India is free, you will have to organize the permanent army of Free India, whose task it will be to preserve our liberty for all time. We must build up our national defense on such an unshakable foundation that never again in our history shall we lose our freedom.”

Swami Vivekanand at ‘The World Parliament of Religions’, Chicago:

“and I fervently hope that the bell that tolled this morning in honor of this convention may be the death-knell of all fanaticism, of all persecutions with the sword or with the pen, and of all uncharitable feelings between persons wending their way to the same goal.”

I hope all these great men are at peace in the heavens.

Happy Republic Day, India.

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aS featured: On the Other Side

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One who reads, writes. More so, if he/she is an aS reader. (Oh yes!) This new year we bring to you 'aS featured' where we will publish selected arbit creations submitted by the readers to us.


'aS featured' takes off with the wings of poetry. We sincerely thank all the participants for sending their entries. Judging all those poems was difficult. Or may be not.
Ladies and gentlemen, presenting to you, the first winner of aS featured!!!
Akhilesh Prasad – IIT Kharagpur
 
Here’s the winning entry:

On The Other Side
There was a time when,
Eating was not about a strict diet,
Not about counting the calories in an ever losing fight,
Not about, for a rainy day, saving adipose in your thighs,
It was about
chomping on chocolates till your nose begins to run,
Ice-creams and lollipops and sugar-laden buns,
Hogging it all down like an insatiable Hun.
 
There was a time when
Life was not about 'Working in the present'
Not about 'Aspiring high and a higher ascent'
Not about societal expectations that ancestors did invent.
It was about
Rough-housing in the dirt, and not giving a thought
Searching papa's pockets to see what for you he bought,
And throwing a pretty tantrum if your search returns you naught.
 
There was a time when,
Love was not about relationships or compromises,
Not about callous biases,
Not about 'understanding' your partner's devises.
It was about
A sketchy crayon doodle from me to you,
a flying kiss over miles as the wind blew,
and wondering if we'd get married at the zoo.
 
There was a time when,
Friends were not about mutual benefits,
Not about being kept close by affidavits,
Not about 'bye-bye, bro' if the profits dip.
It was about
Sharing lunch-boxes under the sun,
Daily shenanigans all in innocent fun,
and comic fighting over that toy gun.
 
There was a time when,
Professional life was not about stress and survival,
Not about cheating past your rivals,
Not about craving for that elusive promotion's arrival.
It was about
Unwillingly reading under mother's watchful eye,
And in ten minutes protesting with your trademark battle cry,
Only to be quieted with sweet words (or with a pinch on the thigh).
 
There was a time when,
Security was not your responsibility at all,
'Twas not about avoiding them fanatical bar brawls,
Not about dangers to your wife and children, to forestall.
It was about
Running amok on the roads with father sprinting behind,
Sleeping 'tween your parents, where ghosts won't ever you find,
Boohooing over a tiny bruise, but the world won't be more unkind.
 
There was a time when,
Partiality and bigotry were unknown perceptions,
'Twas not about hating blindly, and making exceptions,
Not about keeping your peace with self-deception.
It was about
Playing with the other boy, irrespective of his name,
Wanting to celebrate all festivals (who'd miss those sweets, clothes and games!)
Where they came from, or who they prayed to - for you it was all the same.
 
There was a time when,
Life was so much simpler,
Things were so much clearer,
Goals were so much funner,
Existence was so much freer
Than it is today.
 
There was a time when,
My hands were so much nimbler,
My thoughts were so much cleaner,
My feelings so much truer,
My worries so much fewer,
Than they are today.
 
Nostalgia, you add weight to my heart,
But then I see from my window,
My own little children playing in the courtyard,
The littlest one falls down and bruises her knee,
"Papa!" she comes crying to me,
And as I tend to my tiny princess,
The heavy weight lifts away,
For if it's true that my childhood is long gone,
Life has a smilingly curious way of going on,
I find myself in a childhood again with pride,
Just that this time, I'm on the other side.
-Akhilesh Prasad                                                

Do you think that your poem is aS-featured worthy too? Send across your English/ Hindi poems to arbitspecs@googlegroups.com . Who knows, you might be the next aS-featured!!!

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