“Wazir”, A Review

Last day was tiring for a lot of reasons. Mother dear called me while, I was having lunch and told me that my dad had been hospitalized. That was followed by the usual feeling of helplessness and pain that often follows the student who is forced to study outside. I just could not hop on a train and get there and take care of him in any way.

Then again, I saw this movie yesterday. “Wazir” is a movie that holds promise at the very least even if it does not really live up to it all throughout.
While, the characters are quite lovely on pen and paper, on screen the transition is kind of clunky. Sadly, this is not the fault of the actors at all. Farhan Akhtar and Amitabh Bacchan both give stellar performances.

Yet, the script falters. It meanders endlessly in the first half and despite a brilliant set up that promises to deliver, in second half it just becomes a sort of a mess, with glaring plot holes everywhere.

The emotional impact of the film is put on the backfoot by the director to make the point with chess while, both could be interlinked in a beautiful way. And in a film which has such emotional ingredients that is quite a sad thing.

Then again one can only marvel at the acting and the set pieces. There are some images which stay with you as you leave the movie hall an some questions that eat at you.

I’m sorry for the short post, am thoroughly sad today


Water at the end of the road

The summer heat rises to the top and there’s no space left to run. My home city burns in the heat and there is little shelter available. The tiredness settles in like a veneer and refuses to wear off. This is not the Kolkata I love.

Poems are hard to write at 2:30 PM at the bus terminus when your date has cancelled on you and you have little to return to. The nearest tea seller has not started making another set of tea yet, and the shoppers seem to have returned home finally after everything.

And then you walk, a little foot before the other. Your white uniform transparent with sweat, the bag weighing down on you with vengeance. That little child dancing before the rolled up windows of a car with the wish of some money. A washed up beggar looking up with hopes of some alms. A broken down city looking for hope.

These were the days when I found her.

Washed up saree with no romance in her eyes. A pot of water before her, some sweets by it’s soide.

A drink of water a handful of sweets. A thing that my father used to do when he was much much younger

A slice of romance in the sweltering heat

The Indian Wedding Part – 1

My cousin got married this Republic Day (apologies for being hella busy) and it was quite awesome apart from some parts that did irk me. Indian weddings are a scene to observe, something you would remember for the greater part of your life. They are huge, all-encompassing scenarios where you meet all kinds of characters.
The main deal of this wedding was that it was a love marriage, and the lovers were together for about 6 years before they finally decided to tie the knot.
So, basically the husband looked like a goofy teenager for the first time that day, he was smiling like only a boy who knows the entire deal can. Also he was nervous as hell when it all happened.

However, let me start from the beginning, when the entire show was not yet, underway. You remember that line in “27 Dresses”?
“It’ll be an incisive look at how the wedding industry has transformed something: That should be an important rite of passage into nothing more than a corporate revenue stream. In a fun, upbeat, you know, cheerful way.”
Well, Indian marriages are an industry within themselves, and while we might not generate billions, it is only because the prices are a lot cheaper this side of the ocean.

So, when we started, that was about 6 months ago. We were buying stuff frantically and decorating the gifts that we’d present to them (53 bloody trays that we gave to them), something that continued up till the night of the reception. We also brought a thousand and other things that are needed during the wedding.
Just the day before the wedding I had brought 30 kilos of onions with my mum for the cooking on the wedding day. 250 people were going to come and we hadn’t a moment to waste.

But, then when the day started, we had a hundred other things to do. We went around the entire community, getting stuff that would be needed. A decoration with oil floating that couldn’t be made to shake (Shree in Bengali), Gas cylinders from two different locations, Chicken from the local bazaar, the most elderly person of the house from the bride’s home.
Me and my cousin worked relentlessly, to the point that we really didn’t have any rest for the two days that the wedding took place in. As did my cousin’s (the one who was getting married) friends.

But, then the juxtaposed relationships breaking into colours do not stop even a little. We move on from that one snotty relative who does not stop from picking apart anything that is going on around the space, to the little child who is hyperactive and running around all day. We see the elderly couple who are crying and bidding goodbye to their granddaughter, we see the mother who works off even if she has been physically hurt and advised not to run around the entire place. The caterer who is trying his best to keep everyone in line, the entire bunch of men in the house who would not plan anything and just follow orders.

But, everything is worth it for the small moments. When the bride is up on the stage getting turmeric rubbed over her face and she breaks in a giggle and every one of the friends and brothers give off a unified laughter themselves. When they sit together for food and laugh like heck.

But, that’s not even the wedding, that is just the way it starts off…