Sunday 29 December 2013

MOVIE REVIEW - DHOOM 3

Recipe: Take Uday Chopra's dad's money, call some Hollywood stunt experts, spend hours copying scenes from the best action movies, and oh! ensure Aamir, and his carbon copy, and voila! Dhishoom....no....Dhoom 3.

Gone in 60 seconds, The Dark Knight, Bad Boys 2, and the latest episode of Cops are what you get to see in this movie, mixed with desi masala. In fact, the BMW and its modifications are impressive, but compared to The Dark Knight, the bike looks like Hot Wheels. Tamils are made fun of again, with the scene introducing Yash and Abhishek Bachchan. He goes through walls punching criminals, like his father did, trying to be the angry young man of the 70s again. But, for some reason, the makers decided to do a wheelie in a Bajaj auto, and even drive it on rooftops, like Will Smith did in Bad Boys 2, in a jhakhaas yellow Hummer. This scene however, is just jackass.

Yes, your girlfriend can drool over Aamir, you over Katrina and your mum over Jackie Shroff. The circus acts remind you of Cirque du soleil. The role played by the child artist Siddharth Nigam is just endearing. Pritam has given good music, and some scenes the background score is just perfect. The makers have done a good move by moving to BMW, instead of the usual Honda, Suzuki and Yamaha. How on Earth did they manage to pull off the surprise character of Aamir Khan and the twist in the story is anybody's guess. But, it is a job well done. Dhoom 3 is a must watch just for this, Aamir, or do we say Aamirs, at their villainous best.

But some things never change, as my co-critic pointed out. The police always show up late, even when they go abroad, they oogle at firangi girls, nothing happens to them even when a dozen bullets are fired, and they never miss their mark, even when dangling from a helicopter. Salaam Indian Police!
Also, the Transformers type scene, where the bike turns into a wave runner, is nice, but hard to believe. But, its an Indian masala entertainment; so, just scratch your head and leave it at that. Even America's finest are scratching their heads, figuring out how they lost so many squad cars, while Abhishek and Uday dodge them, without wearing helmets, on their bikes.

Is the movie worth your time and money? Yes, absolutely. Period. Kudos to Aamir for promoting helmets and riding gear. No points for Abhishek and Uday for clowning around, both in dialogues, acting and bike safety.

Wednesday 25 December 2013

WINE, CAKE AND SOUL FRIENDS-THE BEST XMAS EVER

Fabian Cuffley, or Fabian uncle as i call him, showed up in his trademark Ray-Bans, monkey cap and a sleeveless jacket. With his 3/4th pajama and a strong smell of cigarette hovering on him, he was carrying two boxes of cake and two bottles of wine. He wished us a merry Xmas, and prayed for my dad and family. He praised dad as a good human being and a great cook and teacher.

I could not help but notice the warmth and love that was present in that moment. Fabian uncle is the guy one would remember when Loyal World first opened. He wore a crisp white shirt and tie, and with his round head would hover across the racks. He has known dad for a long time, and they have become good friends. Through his heart attack and dad's cancer, they have been there for each other. Fabian uncle, with his stories and choice of words, sends us into peels of laughter.

But, what surprises me is that their friendship has been forged without Facebook, e-mail, Wattsapp or even text messages. They talk briefly on the phone from time to time, but when they do meet, they talk for hours. This is something i'm glad to have inherited from dad. 

I envy my aunts and uncles. Yes, they have dabbled in Facebook and the maximum they have done to reconnect is to "poke", rather than send a friend request. But the friendships they have forged in their teens and twenties are still strong. Even if they haven't called each other in months or seen each other in years, whenever they meet, its like they met just yesterday. One would wonder if they had been friends for lifetimes, or Siamese twins joined at the hip at birth. They laugh, they giggle, they hug; sometimes you would pass them off as well dressed lunatics.

But isn't that the beauty of it? A friendship that is not based on whether you hit the 'like', 'comment', or 'share'; it doesn't matter if you did not reply to a text or did not speak for hours on the phone. These bonds truly stand the test of time. Its no longer the other person's caste, gender, belief, differences, mistakes; you transcend all that and become soul friends. You are happy just being there with him or her, and don't give two hoots to what the world comments on your relationship. To you, and your buddy, its one of the best things that could ever happen in life, finding a soul friend.

And so this Christmas, i wish you and your soul friend(s) the best of times and hope your bond strengthens and deepens. And if you haven't found your soul friend yet, I pray to Santa that he packages one for you. All you need to do is to keep an open heart. Your gift might be waiting for you right around the corner.

MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Thursday 19 December 2013

THE POT BELLY BARD - SAMSON'S UGLY SISTER

Samson had a sister, her name i chose to forget
She had a big crush on me, and my lego jet;
Though it was one-way, and i was not gay
I let her go for the reason, she was just too God damn ugly.

Her breasts were sagging South
Her tummy bursting at the seams;
Thighs were the size of tree trunks
Her rump that of a well fed farm pig.

She smiled through her braces
Dirty shoes with grime and untied laces;
Her polka dot frock resembled warts on her face
Table manners were nasty and devoid of grace.

She waved her hand in unladylike glee
She jumped and strutted in manners that made buried moles flee;
Samson loved his sister too much and pampered her
It showed in her unkempt hair and dirty finger.

Alliances was called from lands far and near
No man dared to step forward, nor a Knight in shining armor;
The Bard was called and dictated, "A wife she is and a fine cook for you, good Sir"
"No thanks Mr Samson," said he,"She is just too God damn ugly".


Wednesday 11 December 2013

THE POT BELLY BARD - THE KING IS NO MORE

Hear one, hear all; a tragedy on us has befall
Our beloved King, the docile giant and chubby prince
Yes the one we know as our beloved Wadiyar
Is no more...Is no more...

Down the shutters and close the registers
Douse the lamps and destroy the wicks
Let the streets plunge into darkness
The sun has set and shall rise never on the clan.

The streets are deserted and bereft of hub
Hearts with remorse, cannot digest a grub;
Let the women wail and beat their breasts
The men have important matters, wicked minds cannot rest.

The Palace has lost its glory and charm golden
Now forever, the red-beacon atop shall be lit;
Bring out the guns, 21 times shall they salute
To the last departed man, a legacy 400 years old.

Oh my brothers on Urs road, Kalidasa and Kuvempunagar
Heed my word, follow my advice
No more shall you drown your sorrow in alcohol
Hang-up the butcher's knives and bow your head.

Rumors are rife about a legendary curse
Loose tongues will spew blood on mud
This is no time for politics and hatred
The hearse has arrived, let us gather and bid goodbye.

Look in awe as a great fire engulfs the funeral pyre
Such was the Kings glory and magnanimity;
The Bard shall sing his praise in fields, markets and cities
May we echo his name and those of his Fathers for a thousand years.

LONG LIVE THE KING..........

Sunday 1 December 2013

THANK YOU READERS

It was with apprehension that i started to write my second blog. My first attempt at blogging was not that successful, though it paved the way for me to reach an audience i could not see. I wrote from heart, and still continue to do so. I have just used some tools and applied some time tested techniques to ensure my readership increases, and i'm still learning.

But all this would not have been remotely possible without your support and love. Be it Facebook, Google+ or Indiblogger, readers like you have kept my morale up. You, yes YOU, are the reason why i continue to write and am determined to continue in this path. Your comments have cheered me up and lifted my spirits. Each time you share my post and applaud, those few words feel like i have received the Booker prize. That's how important you are to me.

I started with 10 hits. Today, i reached the 10,000 milestone. Though many of you have hits more than this, for me, this is my first major breakthrough. I used to aim for the maximum hits, and would get dejected if it did not reach even a measly 15. Sometimes it was disappointing. But i realized its better to be original than to please an imaginary crowd. And it paid off.

It did take time, but slowly i built my audience, who accepted my words for what they are. Though small, it is an integral part. And you are an important piece of that. Be it Australia, Germany, Korea, Maldives, USA, UK and many countries from where you read, i'm happy you appreciate the thought process and immense mental and physical work that goes into publishing those few paragraphs.

However, i for one, could not have reached this stage without the help of a few people. They helped me in ways i thought was selfless of them:

My mum and dad. Thanks for the providing the creative freedom to write and the atmosphere of learning.

The team at Facebook, Google, Blogger and Indiblogger. It's because of you that i have an online existence.

Gautam. He suggested the name Murgi Baba....the rest is history. God made you from a mould and then threw it away. There is none like you mate.

Surya Kiran. Suri gave comments and hit the like button for all my blog posts. He is the God Father of Thus Spake Murgi Baba.

Vijendra aka ViJi. You know me since i was an obese teenager. Thanks for always being there for me old pal.

Dileep. Narsimhan, as rough as you look, you have a heart made of apples and honey. Thanks for kicking me in the butt whenever i was low. I needed it.

Shruthi. If there is one family member who encouraged me to write more, it was my favorite cousin Shruthi.

Serena. Many of the topics, specially for The Pot Belly Bard came during conversations with her. Hope some of your amazing will-power rubs off on me.

Tutti aunty. An occasional phone call from you appreciating my writing meant a lot to me. Thank you aunty.

Manohar. Manu, you egged me on for every post. Cheers to you friend.

Thanks to all of you, and the unknown reader out there. Murgi Baba loves you all.