The King's Speech

Sometimes, when I ride through the streets and see, you know, the common man staring at me, I’m struck by how little I know of his life, and how little he knows of mine.

King George VI, The King's Speech (2010)

When his brother David - who has ascended to the throne reigning over a quarter of the planet's residents, and soon going to war with the rest, as Edward VIII - abdicates it in 1936, the Duke of York must reluctantly accept the crown, taking his father’s name to become King George VI. And with the advent of radio and newsreels, and the tense times, it is vital that the nation’s figurehead can speak with firmness. And clarity. And resolve. And NOT stammers punctuated with tortured silences..

"If I am to be king… where is my power? May I form a government, levy a tax or declare a war? No! Yet I am the seat of all authority. Why? Because the nation believes when I speak, I speak for them. Yet I cannot speak!"

So what does our King, portrayed by the oh-so-brilliant and oh-so-Brit Colin Firth, do? We have Lionel Logue, self-taught speech therapist, to the rescue, played appealingly by Geoffrey Rush.

The movie touches a number of interesting themes. A sucker for British royalty as I am, I see the film continue with the post-Diana mode à la The Queen, reminiscent that despite being subject to very human emotions, desires and limitations, the royals are not like you and me, or at least they aren't supposed to be. Even stammering royals, and royals wishing for the beloved common man's privilege of being able to marry a divorced woman, cannot withstand a commoner's treatment. Not because of arrogance, just because that's the bell jar they've been raised in. A divine right. The tension is ever more visible with the Australian Logue's dismissal of protocol, calling His Majesty The King Albert Frederick Arthur George, "Bertie".

Once over these hurdles, we begin to see the real reasons why Bertie was the way he was. The pressures of a royal childhood, a strict father, the repression of his natural left-handedness, a painful treatment with metal splints for his knock-knees; and a nanny who favoured his elder brother, deliberately pinching Albert at the daily presentations, unsettling him and making him cry, so his parents would allot less time to him and more of their attention to David. "You know, Lionel, you're the first ordinary Englishman... [Lionel whispers, Australian.] ...I've ever really talked to."

If only a few more people had been able to call him Bertie, if only he hadn't had his childhood fears and failings so brutally criticised by his father... Lionel is not merely a medical practitioner (which in fact he isn't at all), but a friend, a confidant!

With 14 BAFTA and 12 Academy Award nominations, a lot many more speeches need to be prepared for.

Vision India 2020: Take with you, the boldness...

While every book is prone to being judged by its cover, Sramana Mitra's Vision India 2020 is not your average "India Shining" coffee table read. Neither does it make empty assertions of "India Rising" with false reassurances of global supremacy. It is, in fact, exactly what it claims to be: a Vision, backed with intricate research, deep insights and realizable roadmaps, all set in an imagined, yet realistic future.

I have earlier posted a series of articles covering the keynote lecture at E-Summit 09, IIT Kharagpur by Sramana Mitra and Dominique Trempont.

A celebrated Silicon Valley strategy consultant, entrepreneur and business author, Sramana has not only penned down a complete view of the future that every Indian dreams of but cannot fully comprehend, she also bears a torch illustrating the very real paths of getting there. And when I say complete, I mean complete.


The book provides insights to 45 unique business opportunities in India. Every thinkable and unthinkable sector, field, service or product has been covered, each presenting a case for a scalable and realizable entrepreneurial endeavor, while simultaneously releasing immense untapped economic value for the nation. From shopping to shipping, engineering to equity, horticulture to furniture, candles to carbon, convergence chips to gourmet cheese, rural development to real estate development, Water Desalination to Water Diplomacy, Solar Energy to Software, Schools for slums to rural cinemas, films to pharmaceuticals... the offerings are overwhelming, but presented in a very organised fashion, so as not to confuse the reader. Significance is given to essentials such as healthcare, education, infrastructure and rural development, with multiple ideas discussed, mutually exclusive and collectively exhaustive, thus aiming universal access. The theme of doing well by doing good, and the idea of doing business at the Bottom-of-the-Pyramid, is touched upon at many points.

The forty five complete case studies are not just about innovative ideas, but about how the innovation can be brought to the market. Insights to crack seemingly 'done' industries as well as exploring uncharted waters have been provided, and even VC-unfriendly sectors such as education have been tackled. Every narrative has been written in a post-facto fashion, analyzing the success story of the discussed model from a future perspective. Sramana's expertise on entrepreneurial planning and strategy is clearly visible in the extremely detailed models, unraveled with not only economic but social, environmental and diplomatic factors in mind as well, while keeping pace with the timeline and the corresponding changing scenarios. Financial engineering has been incorporated wherever needed. At some points the book does take a very Utopian turn, neglecting many bureaucratic and political hurdles. However, while described as a work of business fiction, many of the futuristic models and idea bombs are discussed as scaled, extrapolated and rectified versions of already conceived success stories. Vision India 2020 remains an immaculately written exciting and inspiring read.

For budding entrepreneurs, a reading of the book should be an engaging and inspirational journey, starting off with Sramana's own saga about chasing her dreams, instructing the reader to "take with you, the boldness, as you read..." It also serves as a reminder of the responsibility that every entrepreneur must embrace, of generating a social impact on the community, nation and world. While the book shall gain interest amongst policymakers and investors, it's message is central to the youth of India - "Close your eyes, exist in this future - be each entrepreneur."

And how far is that future?

Ten years, at most.

Vision India 2020 by Sramana Mitra is available from Amazon.com in paperback and Kindle, from Flipkart in India, and from Smashwords.com in all e-book formats.

Ghajini - A Review

Go on, read the review. Absolutely no spoilers!!! Except Ghajini itself of course.

For the first time, I saw a movie being touted as a Hollywood remake not being anywhere close to the 'original'. And for another first, I actually wished it was a blatant copy, not an ‘original’. Of course, in Bollywood terminology, a frame-by-frame reconstruction is a remake, but if you pick up 3-4 good Angrezi films and make a messy cocktail, well that's ORIGINAL. So there it was, a drop of Memento (just a drop, mind you), a bit of The Butterfly Effect, with a large serving of THE HULK. Add some good old Rajni-style action for some desi tadka, and that’s Ghajini for you!

So there’s this medical kaalij Professor assigning projects to final year students, but he wouldn’t let Nishabd girl Jiah Khan take the “short-term memory loss” patient (apparently the term “anterograde amnesia” is not good enough for a final year medical student researching neuroscience). Anyways, her heart yearns to know this guy, and next thing she knows, she bumps into him by pure chance. Knowing his past was a cakewalk using his journals. Oh did I miss the journals part.

Chairman/ Managing Director/ CEO/ Maalik (terms used interchangeably) of India’s largest telecom company, and very conveniently one of the world’s largest as well, with firangi execs scampering around like pooches, this multi-billionaire returns from the States and goes to office dressed in tight body-hugging almost-cut-sleeved office wear (now that’s corporate muscle-flexing). And like all good Harvard-bred Chairmen/MDs/CEOs/Maaliks, he maintains a regular journal in Hindi, on his affair with his oh-so-simple & ah-so-gentle goody-goody girlfriend. And while this Sridevi 2.0 (or make that 1.0) helps blind-old-baba cross the street while giving him complete and colourful descriptions of the kids playing and wives beating their husbands along the way (she guessed it compensates blindness), she’s all over the mass-media falsely telling the world she’s in [mutually] love with the tycoon. The catch here is that neither she nor anyone else in the country has seen a picture of Mr.Rich-n-Famous or have any idea what he looks like. Oh, and about the journal, no hindi Romaantick diary is complete without shayari, and no reading of the diary complete without a bit of dancing around the trees with a whole bunch of colour-coded extras (dance routines which also serve as an additional showcase for that elusive 8-pack and the bulging biceps). But there’s another side of the eight pack..uh... story as well. The Diary stops right before Mr.Eligible-8-pack-Bachelor turns into the hulk.

Didn’t I tell you about the Hulk? Man, this anterograde amnesia short term memory loss thing is getting to me. Anyways, the rich-guy-poor-girl candy floss love story gets all bitter and really f***ed up with the girl getting brutally killed and the guy getting amnesiacally injured by this Haryanvi gentleman, Ghajini (Oh c’mon that’s hardly a spoiler...this is revealed at the beginning). Against all expectations, Ghajini’s a minor character in the movie, and played by a [deservingly] unknown face. Don’t blame Amir for using that for a title, it’s a remake after all. Mr. Ghajini also happens to be a Chairman/MD/Maalik of a pharmaceutical company (again very conveniently one of India’s biggest) and comes complete with a whole ensemble of skull-cap donning body guards.

So while Ghajini moves around attending college fests and trading kidneys, our bhoolne-ki-bimaari patient brandishes his injury on his head and goes all the way eight-packing to avenge his fiancé’s death, armed with pecs and abs and a Polaroid camera (complete with a beep every 15 mins) and notes and tattoos... Wait, tattoos?

But why the tattoos? To remind him every morning of all that stuff that he can’t remember? Hmmm... But he lives at his own home, which is full of post-it notes and helpful graffiti anyways. Maybe it’s just not the text, but rather looking at all that meat on which it’s imprinted that makes Mr.Mutton-ki-dukaan go into The Hulk mode. Anyways, don’t blame Amir. It’s a remake, remember. So what if the tattoos actually served a purpose in Memento. And unlike Memento, our avenger does not visit the local tattoo artist, and saves on his money in these difficult times by keeping a tattoo gun home. He’s obviously trained himself to tattoo on his chest and arms and legs all by himself.

So here’s our Hulk roaming around the city looking all over for... his own house at times, travelling in autos and buses, in malls and jewellery shops, all the time looking helpless and confused, but at the same time ceremonially beating his breasts and pumping his breath furiously to keep the fire of revenge burning. There’s the medical student to help him (whom he, by the way, almost murdered once, not that he’d remember that) track the G-guy, and keep reminding him of his mission. She understood the whole story by herself from the journals and newspaper archives (Man, why didn’t the police think of that. Everything was there in the old newspapers to solve the murder mystery.), which also helped our avenger re-learn his own story (à la The Butterfly effect). The 15-minute memory span conveniently vanishes during such times. It of course, reappears mid-fights, when our guy doesn't know why all these goons are piled around him like used polythene bags.

So while Amir throws around 15-20 goons at the same time, attacking them with bathroom fittings (At one point, he’s confused to see this tap sticking out from this guy’s tummy, only to turn it on and see blood flow. But damn the Censor Board!), the fight sometimes has to be choreographed by the to-be-doctorni. The fight sequences are doubtlessly Rajnikant inspired, and some of the old-school Bollywood dhishoom-dhishoom makes its way into the movie as well, mostly providing comic relief. But that sariya going through the navel, that’s gotta damage the picturesque eight-pack. Well, you win some, you lose some...

Till now everything you've seen is oh-so-bollywood-ishtyle, that even if I don’t tell you whether it’s a happy ending or not, you know it already. As for me, I was just happy it ended.
Maybe I’m biased in my opinion for having watched that masterpiece of a motion picture, Memento. Anyways, even ignoring the unique non-linear narrative of the cult film, Ghajini does not even remotely touch on the themes of memory, perception, grief, self-deception or reality the way Memento does. While the screenplay writer’s wildly swerving train of thought does seem to flirt with scientific coherence briefly, it may just be considered a chance event. The amnesia switches on/off as and when convenient. By the way, Memento has been cited by prominent medical experts as one of the most realistic and accurate depictions of amnesia in popular media and is recommended by neuroscience researchers to those interested in exploring the neurobiology of memory.

Anyways, I am still pretty sure this movie will do well in the first couple of weeks, and will probably be declared a hit. In case it doesn’t, there’s always the Recession-excuse for the producers to cushion the fall. I am an ardent admirer of Amir, but the perfectionism is reflected not in the content but only in the marketing of Ghajini. Look who’s using the brand name now.

My advice to you: if you are planning to watch Ghajini, well, don’t. Run to your nearest DVD-rental shop and get a copy of Memento for the weekend. Or, contact your nearest IITian for another cult classic, Gunda.

[Needless to say, comments are more than welcome.]

Peace...

Mithun Chakraborty's Gunda: Watch it to believe it...

“There are two kinds of people in the world. Those who’ve seen 'Gunda'. And those who shall see it.”

 ——Anonymous

I don’t actually remember when I first heard about the movie. It’s just that over the past couple of years, I’ve been asked countless times by various people if I had seen Mithun Da’s Gunda. They have usually peppered that baffling question with an equally baffling, memorised anecdote or two from the film: The auto-rickshaw action sequence; the fight scene while prostitutes swing on khatiyas; or You know that part when the hero, says to the open-mouthed villain with a sing-song voice, “Bulla, ye teri beti hai.” (This is your daughter), who then says, “Oh! Toh ye hai Hasina ka paseena.” (This is the sweat of sin.) I must desist from literariness that’s lost in translations!

It was just one of those times when me, Aditya and Vijay were trying to pick a movie to watch, and all of a sudden the name popped up. With unanimous harmony, we gave in and sat down to watch Kanti Shah’s Magnum Opus.

The synopsis can also be read on Wikipedia (Yes, it’s there), which is a masterpiece in itself. Some lines from the same have also been quoted below:

Mithun plays a coolie, Shankar, equally at home on airport runways and docks, where he has frequent run-ins with the villains as they take their pet leopard for a stroll or organise fighting contests. “...the protagonist, who works as a coolie in a shipyard airport...” (Yup, That’s Wiki). Not only was there a Shipyard Airport (?) in the film, it was serviced by labourers dressed à la Amitabh Bachchan in Coolie. Shankar represents the typical hard-working Indian man forced to balance time between an overweight girl friend, an even fatter sister, an overacting father, alcoholic friends and a pet monkey who can drive a car. It is Shankar and his family that is crushed underneath the “system” of the 90s—a system that Shankar rises against through the inspirational “Do, chaar, chhe, aath, dus. BAS!!” reciting of even numbers and associated retributory cleansing violence.

The most memorable sequence in the movie, however,  is when the villains introduce themselves.

First there is Bulla, the main ‘evil man’. “Mera naam hain Bulla, rakhta hoon main khullaaaaaa.”

Next there is Chutiya(!), played by Shakti Kapoor(!!!), Bulla’s hermaphrodite brother(!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!). Bulla feeds him “London se sex-vitamins ki goliyan” and like a kind elder brother provides him girls to rape. Till one day Chutiya emerges a man —an occasion he marks by disco-dancing with eunuchs to the tune of “Haye haye mere bhai jawaan ho gya, toota hua teer kaman ho gya“. And yet just when “tere tube main light aaya tha”, Shankar despatches Chutiya to his maker (as Bulla says: “tera fuse uda diya”) by cutting off his organ. The scene that almost got Aditya reacquainted with last night’s dinner!

Then there is Pote—jo aapne baap ki bhi naheen hote. He declares a gangwar, with barely controlled glee: “Hum aise lashein bicha denge jaise kisi nanhe-munne bacche ki nuni se peshaab tapakta hain…tap tap.” When the sound of dead bodies falling on the ground resonates like the pitter-patter of an innocent baby’s urine striking the cobble stones, you know its war.

And don’t forget Ibu Hatela, whose patented introduction is “Mera naam Ibu Hatela, Ma meri chudail ki beti, baap mera shaitan ka chela,[pointing downwards] khayega kela?” No comments!!!!

It’s really hard to be creative these days in the era marked by blatant piracy and copyright infringement, Gunda managed to defy the masses by bringing out original dialogues. While the dialogues may not be accepted by the elite (sample: Super-pimp Lucky Chikna screams at a sex-worker who is doing “liptam chipti chipkam lipti” with another guy instead of servicing her client. When she protests that “Woh buddha kuch karta naheen hain. Sirf bolta hain choos choos meri ungli choos“, Lucky Chikna delivers the line:”Dhande pe baithi hain to buddha kya, jawan kya, chotha kya bara kya, baitha kya khara kya.”), but kudos to the sheer originality of the writer, director and producer.

And who can forget the conclusion of the film where Shankar squares off against a legion of rickshaws with a grenade launcher — pausing only to look down the barrel of his weapon, to see if there are any more grenades where those came from — truly mesmerising, provided you are a viewer magnanimous enough to overlook the tacky production values.  

“In the climactic scene, Bulla and Shankar have a showdown in the shipyard airport complex. Bulla his backed up by several auto-rickshaws who run helter skelter and attack Shankar. Shankar is well prepared for this, and he takes out a grenade launcher and takes down the auto-rickshaws.

The action quickly switches to a coal mine, where Bulla tries to use the adopted baby which he thinks is Shankar's daughter to gain leverage in the fight. Soon Bulla realizes that the baby is his own, he still uses the baby as a shield, Shankar rescues the girl with the help of his monkey, Tinku [Actually just throws the baby in the air mid-fight, who is and then ‘caught’ by the monkey] and kills Bulla.” (You guessed it.... Wikipedia to the rescue)

The Mithun Chakarborthy-starrer has gained a surprising amount of cult popularity over the last few years, with several adulatory reviews and even fan-sites cropping up. Gunda is a triumph of style over substance — essentially the same old rape and revenge saga that several thousand Indian films are built around, packed with a truly bizarre and original assemblage of characters and situations. Gunda discards several of the rules, conventions and concessions to tastefulness that plague many Hindi films. The characters speak in rhyming couplets, laden with double entendre for around 50% of the film. But that’s essentially the charm of the film — a very casual put-together-on-the-fly vibe. It seems refreshingly unpremeditated, the spawn of a dozen ‘what if we...?’ and ‘wouldn’t it be cool if...’ conversations on the day of shooting. The dialogues are almost absurd in their crudity; like a desi Quentin Tarantino ranting on country liquor. 

Gunda is on IMDB at 8.4/10 with over 1400 voters. It is uniformly accepted as a masterpiece. Golden Plaza, one of the companies that’s released the film claims to have sold in excess of 5,000 copies at Rs 99. A few dedicated fans even uploaded it on google video. It has all the trappings of a cult classic like The Rocky Horror Picture Show: a legion of fans who spend time obsessing over the minutiae of the film and who can quote its dialogues verbatim. Kanti Shah’s creative partnership with his writer Basheerbhai Babbar has been compared to the likes of Ismail Merchant and James Ivory, or Akira Kurosawa and Toshiro Mifune! 

There are so many questions over which fans have agonized over the years. Why does the hero’s father’s moustache disappear and reappear between scenes? Why does the Mithun-da character, a coolie, have a cellphone in the mid 90s? And also a rocket-launcher? Why does 70% of the movie take place on a tarmac? Is the relationship between Bulla and Lambu Atta homoerotic (as Lambu says: Bulla ke naam leke tune khara kar diya hain mera)? Why did Chutiya think that the bathroom is the only place Shankar will not look for him? Are the Ambassadors in the movie remote-controlled? Why is the Vidhan Sabha and the High Court the same building? Why…

Some true fans have tried to find the solution to these questions through the Gunda FAQ. But of course, trying to find total coherence in Gunda is ultimately a self-defeating experience. The amazing thing about it, as noted by Vijay, is that, at no point does the movie actually try to be funny. This is probably the only time you’ll find yourself laughing your lungs out over a death scene.

My advice to you: don’t watch Tashan, Rock On, Hello, or, God Forbid, KARZZZZ – save your money, save yourself from the agony, save the film industry by not buying/downloading any CD/DVD (original/pirated) of any of these. Instead, simply watch Gunda on Google Video! 

Peace...