You know you work at a Call Centre when...

 

1. When ‘First Shift’ means going to work at 5.30 in the evening.

2. When you find that you’re more familiar with the 50 states of the U.S. than our 28 states. (Or is it 29 states)

3. When you say that you had a ‘good night sleep’ and you actually mean that you slept from 6.00AM to 4.00PM.

4.  When you say your name and your company’s name at the beginning of every call and still get asked ‘Who’s this and what company are you calling from?’

5. When you compare your company’s hold music with that of other companies’.

6. Everytime your phone rings, you have an inexplicable desire to put  on headphones.

7. When your Manager calls for a meeting everytime he feels lonely.

8.  When you’ve mastered the art of twiddling your pen, using the keyboard, waving at your friends and of course, talking with the customer at the same time.

9. When your Manager calls the above activities ‘Multai-tasking’ when he really means Multi-tasking.

10. When you pronounce ‘Zed’ as ‘Zee’

11. When you discuss the climate of Florida and that of Arizona as if it’s really in your backyard

12. When you regularly get called by something other than your name.

13. When you're more comfortable with a Coffee vending machine than a real coffee boy.

14. When every other person you meet tells you conspiratorially that he just wants to get out of this industry and that he ‘just isn’t interested in making a career in this industry.’

16. When you know that B stands for Bravo and not Bombay and though you know what L stands for, you don’t even have a clue as to what ‘Lima’ actually is!

Needh kaa Nirmaan Phir Phir...

   

           The clouds gather ominously. The gentle breeze starts blowing with the force of a gale. Lightning strikes. It hasn’t begun raining yet, but you can smell the rain. Trees are ravaged, bent over double by the gust and the only sound you can hear is that of leaves swishing violently and that of tin boards of shops falling over. The sky darkens even more as the sun sets and it is accompanied by loud thunder. All you can see is clouds of dust rising up towards the sky and it is difficult to keep your eyes open. You look up towards the sky and you see that one sparrow which is being bullied mercilessly by the wind. It looks so vulnerable, a small sparrow braving the mighty wind. For every thrust ahead, it is pushed twice backward. And sideways. Still, it fights doggedly and survives another storm.

And then sheets of water start pouring.

And people scamper for safety.

It reminds me of a Hindi poem that I learnt in school and I love quoting it. It is written by Harivanshrai Bachchan and it’s based on perseverance & re-generation. I couldn’t recall the whole poem and therefore googled it. I shall soon post a translation as well.

 

 

Yah Uthi Aandhi Kii Nabh Main
Chaa Gaya Sahsa Andhera
Dhooli Dhoosar Badalon Ne
Bhoomi Ko Iss Bhaanti Ghera
Raat Saa Din Ho Gaya
Phir Raat Aayi Aur Kaali
Lag Raha Tha Ab Naa Hoga
Iss Nisha Ka Phir Savera
Raat Ke Utpaat Bhay Se
Bheet Jan-Jan Bheet Kan-Kan
Kintu Prachi Se Usha Ki
Mohini Muskaan Phir Phir,
Needh ka nirman phir phir
Neh ka avhaan phir phir!

Kruddha Nabh ke Vajradanton Main
Usha hai muskaraati,
Ghor garjanmay gagan ke
Kanth main Khag pankti gaati
Ek chidiya chonch main
Tinka liye jo jaa rahi hai
Vah sahaj mein hi pavan unchaas ko
Neecha dikha rahi hai.
Nash ke dukh se kabhi
Dabta nahin nirmaan ka sukh
Pralay ki nistabdhata mein
Srushti ka navgaan phir phir.
Needh ka nirmaan phir phir
Neh ka aavhaan phir phir

Revisiting the tryst with destiny...

"I still remember, I was in parliament on the midnight of Aug 14. There was a huge gathering in the hall and we were jostling for space," said  Bal Krishna Khurana, who migrated from Pakistan in 1943 at the age of 25.

"When Pandit Nehru uttered the words 'long years ago, we made a tryst with destiny...' there was not a single person in the hall who didn't have tears in his eyes,"

-Hindustan Times

 

Nehru’s ‘Tryst with destiny’ speech is one of the best speeches I have read. I have seen the video a million times and it still has the same effect upon me - A sense of pride, the proverbial  lump in the throat and a familiar glistening of the eye.

I always felt that this speech deserved to be up there among the greatest speeches along with Martin Luther King’s ‘I have a dream’ and Winston Churchill’s ‘Britain's finest hour’. What makes it even more deserving is the fact that this speech was made impromptu i.e. without any advance preparations.

(Full text of ‘Tryst with destiny’ available here)

 

 

 

Very similar is Nehru’s ‘The light has gone out of our lives’ speech. Sincere, emotional, eloquent and touching and not to forget, impromptu. Nehru almost chokes with emotion during the speech and it is easily one of the finest eulogies in Indian history.

 

(Read the full text of ‘The Light has gone out of our lives’ here.)

My looniest essay ever..!!

I was asked to write anything that started or ended with ‘One dark, stormy night..’ It was one of those times when you can really write stupid essays and still stand by your taradiddles. So reader, I warn you.. it is NOT a nice, wise post.. :D :P

***

Gotham City was being battered by rains that night. It was one of those nights which would’ve otherwise scared the whole of Gotham City but not now. Most of the criminals of Gotham City were safely behind bars. Still, an entire city was asleep and it’s protectors were held back by the forces of nature. This made Gotham City vulnerable to attacks by dark, nefarious elements. 
From his customary spot at the top of a building, The Batman kept a lonely vigil. He knew the criminals would be wary of his presence tonight and they might just let the storm pass. He let his thoughts drift...
Lately, all his thoughts or all his drifted thoughts revolved around only one person – The Catwoman. He was unable to get her off his mind. He recalled the day they met for the first time. He had relived the moment a thousand times but the memory still excited him. He then recalled their first date –at KFC. How the Catwoman had emptied bucket after bucket of chicken! He smiled. He had only $2.25 with him and The Catwoman would have to foot the bill in the end.

And so it happened. The Catwoman had to pay for the chicken and later they went for a walk in the nearby park. Halfway down the garden path, they stopped. And then they kissed. It was the wildest sensation he had ever experienced.

‘It’s a dark, stormy night.’ He said.

‘No, you clumsy fool! It’s 3 in the afternoon.’ The Catwoman replied. ‘Your hood has fallen over your eyes.’

‘Duh..’ He said,‘But I thought I heard thunder.’

‘No dearie, it wasn’t thunder. It’s just the chicken that I had.’

And the gaseous thunder rolled in again.

The Batman smiled at the nostalgia and resumed his vigil. The rain had stopped a long time back. Even the sun was ready to shine.

‘So much for his lonely vigil!’ Said The Catwoman to herself. ‘Falls asleep on top of a building every night. How I wish he could stop fantasizing about that dark, stormy night!’

Pressure or no pressure…

This is inspired from reading the newspaper this morning. (Perhaps it’s one of the ways of overcoming a blogger’s block!)

Well, it was about the ongoing SSC admissions that have finally begun after an eternity of waiting. A whopping 13500 students scored 90% or more this year compared to Karnataka’s 7000 odd whereas UP and Bihar have 2 and 4 students scoring more than 90%. Andhra Pradesh leads the pack with 140,000 students crossing the coveted threshold. During my school days, there wasn’t even a single student in 15 years who had breached the 90% mark but now the smarty’s list at school is inundated with ninety percenters. This is so reminiscent of the ‘.com’ or the 'stock exchange’ bubble. This is also a bubble waiting to be burst.

While the parents of the super kids would be gloating over the success of their kids, little do they realise that their kids might find it very difficult to end up in colleges of their choice despite having scored so heavily in the examinations. One can’t blame the Kids for that because it seems that the entire state is scoring in the 90s now-a-days. By the time the kids get a grasp of what’s happening they are already past school and doing something they don’t want to do.

What’s more ironical about this ‘90% era’ is the increasing number of protests about the pressure of studying in a school or the weight of a school bag. When we were in school we used to carry the same number of books and the teachers used to spank as well. And the State hadn’t started the much anticipated dumbing down processes as well.

However, there is no denying the fact that there is more pressure on the students now than ever before. However, the source of this pressure is rarely due to a heavy bag or a ‘strict’ teacher, it is more often than not the Parents themselves. Nowadays, kids are enrolled in everything possible right from Hindustani Classical Singing to Salsa, Cricket and Acting classes. Mostly, just to assuage a wealthy Parent’s ego.

Rarely do we see kids chasing butterflies. Or dreams. And that’s the real problem.

The Interview Room

As the title suggests, this is about an interview room. Generally it so happens, that at an interview one gets to see all kinds of people wearing a multitude of expressions. I feel very content to observe them from a distance. Tired by the waiting, this group of interviewees formed a circle to share their miseries and while away time.
Like every group, this new assortment of individuals too, had those stereotypical members - A garrulous know-it-all, a wild party animal, his sidekick,  a petite bimbo and her loyal buffalo.
The Party Animal started the whining, ‘I heard this place has no good pubs or bars around. I doubt if I would survive here for more than two months.’
His sidekick nodded faithfully.
‘I heard this job required knowledge about Servers and all.’ Wailed the Bimbo. 
‘Naaah! This job is a cakewalk’ Said the Know-it-all, ‘Literally a       c-a-k-e-w-a-l-k’
‘I have done my Majors in Computer Science but I don’t even have a clue about computers.’ The Bimbo continued pitifully.
‘Bah! I have worked in this process all my life. All they might ask you is about the OSI Protocol or something about DNS.’ He replied with such pompousness that the Queen would’ve been humbled.
The Buffalo joined the party, ‘I have only worked as a receptionist in my previous company and I have no clue as to what am I doing here.’
The Bimbo in an attempt to allay the Buffalo’s fears said, ‘If I get through, you’ll get through too, savvy?’
These wise words somehow seemed to placate the Buffalo.
Then the Party animal took over. It was a colossal monologue about how his previous job was fun and how they did everything except work and yet commanded an obscene salary. The Sidekick played his part to perfection by nodding fervently at all the right time.
Throughout the monologue, the Buffalo’s eyebrows kept on rising and at one point, I feared it might hit the ceiling if he did not stop at once.
Finally it began and the interviewer called took them in one by one.
The Bimbo came out first. Her expression gave everything away.
Still, The Know-it-all asked, ‘How was it?’
She gave a pitiful smile.
He prodded further. She replied, ‘He asked me many questions which I couldn’t answer. He finally asked which OS do I have installed on my laptop. I said it is ‘Window 2007 version 8’. Then he looked at me incredulously to which I said that I have sufficient knowledge about computers but just don’t know the terminologies.’
The Know-it-all laughed cruelly and said, ‘He was so impressed by my resume that he didn’t even dare to ask me a technical question. So I cracked a joke, made him laugh and walked out.’
The Buffalo seemed so tickled by this that all the adipose tissue on her body started heaving up and down as if she were sitting on the bonnet of a moving tractor. She then added, almost apologetically, that she didn’t fare too well in her interview either.
           The Know-it-all then, true in the manner of those self-professed intellectuals, told the Buffalo that she would definitely find a job somewhere and left the sentence hanging midway as if it was upto her to figure out that some companies in the world still hired cretins.                                                                                                          The Interviewer then came out and said that out of the five, only one had cleared it. He then looked at the Bimbo meaningfully who took cue and left. The Party Animal and the Sidekick had left already. And then true to the manner of the cruel twists of fate, the Interviewer looked at the Know-it-all, who was by now grinning ear to ear, and said that he too, has been rejected on technical grounds.

Now it was his turn to look at the Buffalo incredulously. She replied coolly, ‘I am Bimbo’s classmate. I too, Majored in Computer Science!’

Natarang – Mesmerising, charming..

Natarang released on the 1st of January 2010 and I have been a fool to have missed it for such a long time. While I watched overrated duds like ‘Lalbaug Parel’ and ‘Mee Shivajiraje Bhosle Boltoy’ on the first day itself, I somehow missed this movie despite the fact that it starred one of my favourite actors - Atul Kulkarni.

Atul Kulkarni plays Guna, a poor labourer who barely manages to keep the food on the table for his family. He is enamoured by Tamasha     (Folk Art) much to the chagrin of his father. Tamasha was considered to be an immoral form of act in those days. When his only source of income is taken away from him,  He goads his friends into starting a theatre troupe. He assumes the responsibilities of a writer/lyricist. Soon, they realise that their Tamasha would not draw crowds unless they have a female lead. So,they scrounge into the nearby villages for a female lead and finally manage to convince a dancer. The Dancer puts forward a condition that the troupe should also have a Nachya (A Pansy character) who will provide comic relief and also will be a crowd puller. Nobody is willing to play the character fearing the consequences and due to the stigma and the social taboo attached to eunuchs.

Finally, a reluctant Guna, has to play the Nachya and he takes it up as a challenge. Then follows his struggle to gain acceptance in a society which identifies actors with the characters they portray.

             Atul Kulkarni’s transformation from the heavily built Guna to the slim and slender Nachya is astounding. It is said that he gained and lost 16kgs in 42 days for the role. But what is more noteworthy is the ease with which Atul Kulkarni switches from the rustic Guna to the graceful and elegant Nachya. He pumps the testosterone levels in the first half and then drowns everyone in oestrogen in the second. He captivates you and while you’re still gawking at his physical transformation, Atul Kulkarni moves on and mesmerises you with his acting.

Kishore Kadam is also brilliant as Guna’s manager, Pandoba. Sonali Kulkarni is also charming as the female lead. Guna’s wife, Darki has a half baked character and she complements it with an equally listless performance.

The musical score is simply outstanding especially “Atta vajile ki baara” (It’s midnight) and “Apsara Aali” (The Celestial Nymph has arrived) which make you want to get up and dance.

This is a must, must watch movie. I rate it as one of the very best of the Marathi film industry and it easily makes into my list of recommendations..!!

Take a bow, Mr. Kulkarni..!! :)

The Litterateur’s languor

A Writer’s Block is supposed to affect a writer. I am, at best,  a Non-Writer. I have a blog and I like to think that I am blogger. So, I surmise I have the ‘Blogger’s Block’ then because I no longer contribute to the poor creature.

I was always pretty regular with my posts in the Blogosphere. I never scrounged for ideas they just came to me. But for the last few months, I have just not been able to type anything that’s even remotely sensible. Not that it has bothered me too much, blogging was always just another hobby but somewhere deep down, I guess it matters. The bar on the right hand side which shows the number of posts per month reveals a drastic downward curve and leaves little to the imagination.

Still, I have so many ideas and they all just fail to manifest and become a post. The drafts section has about 18-19 incomplete posts with some being very stimulating to be the mind, they just don’t make it to the blog somehow.

The fact that I haven’t done anything in months that could be termed as ‘activity’ is one excuse I can offer. I haven’t stopped reading though. On the contrary, I have been reading some seriously ‘serious stuff’ off late almost as if to make up for my lack of contribution to a very relieved blogosphere.

I have been thinking of writing a mean review of some of the landmark movies that have released this year or perhaps about some book that I have read recently. Or perhaps, rant about politics or just fume over the ‘Blogger’s block!’

Or write trash, which comes naturally!! :D

Faiz revisited...

 

आज एक हर्फ़ को फिर ढूँढता फिरता है ख्याल,

मध् भरा हर्फ़ कोई, ज़हर भरा हर्फ़ कोई,

दिलनशीं हर्फ़ कोई, कहर भरा हर्फ़ कोई,

आज एक हर्फ़ को फिर ढूँढता फिरता है ख्याल...

 

हर्फ़-ए-उल्फत हो कोई, दिलदार-ए-नज़र हो जैसे,

जिससे मिलती है नज़र, बोसा-ए-लब की सूरत,

इतना रोशन की सरे मौजा-ए-ज़र हो जैसे,

सोहबत-ए-यार मैं आगाज़-ए-तरब की सूरत,

हर्फ़-ए-नफरत कोई शमशीर-ए-ग़ज़ब हो जैसे,

आज एक हर्फ़ को फिर ढूँढता फिरता है ख्याल...

 

ता आबाद शहर-ए-सितम, जिससे तबाह हो जाएँ  

इतना तारिक, के शमशान की शब् हो जैसे

लब पे लाऊँ तो होंठ सियाह हो जाएँ 

आज एक हर्फ़ को फिर ढूँढता फिरता है ख्याल...

- फैज़ अहमद फैज़

 

 

Urdu-English translation:-

Aaj ek harf ko phir dhoondta phirta hai khayal

(My mind is groping for a word today,)

Madh bhara harf koi, zeher bhara harf koi

(A word as sweet as wine and as bitter as poison)

Dil-nashin harf koi, qeher bhara harf koi

(A word that bewitches but is full of rage)

Aaj ek harf ko phir dhoondta phirta hai khayal...

(My mind is groping for a word today...)

 

 

Harf-e-ulfat koi dildar-e-nazar ho jaise

(A word as desirable as the lover herself)

Jis’se milti hai nazar bosa-e-lab ki surat

(Whose glance is like a kiss on the lips)

Itna roshan ke sare-mauja-e-zar ho jaise

(As radiant as a sea of gold)

Sohbat-e-yaar main aghaaz-e-tarab ki surat

(In the company of a lover, where love is blossoming)

Harf-e-nafrat koi shamsheer-e-ghazab ho jaise,

(A hateful word cuts like a terrible sword)

Aaj ek harf ko phir dhoondta phirta hai khayal...

(My mind is groping for a word today...)

 

 

Ta abad shahre-sitam jis’se tabah ho jayein

(A word that could destroy this city of sorrow forever,)

Itna tariq ke shamshan ki shab ho jaise

(As dark as the grave,)

Lab pe laoon to mere honth siyah ho jayein

(So dark that my lips turn black,)

Aaj ek harf ko phir dhoondta phirta hai khayal...

(My mind is groping for a word today...)

 

- Faiz Ahmed Faiz

 

P.S. I have translated parts of the Poem, but a lot of credit goes some prior translations on the internet and a certain Sikander Fayyaz who was patient enough to sit through agonizing trial and error session(s) .

The Plight of the Indian ‘Picasso’

                 

While the papers were going gaga over Sachin’s stupendous feat, it also modestly reported the MF Hussain story. While the story did not gain the mileage it should’ve, it was yet another defeat of the secular India that our leaders had fought for. The Hindu Taliban won again as we continue our steady march towards becoming a Hindu Rashtra where minorities cower and dare not meddle with the Brave majority.

It’s time our bourgeoisie intelligentsia wakes up, shrugs off it’s mask of nonchalance and takes up the cudgels on behalf of a 95 year weary,  old man who is too tired to fight his own countrymen. It’s time the isolated voices unite and become a movement requesting the return of the one who was once hailed as the ‘Picasso of India’ by Forbes. The Government could have convinced him easily. Shamefully, they chose not to ‘hurt sentiments’ again.

                

Nudity has been a part of India’s iconography since centuries. Besides, what good is art if it does not provoke or trigger a debate? But then, the country of Hussain’s choosing is equally worse. He would be allowed to paint as many naked Gods and Goddesses as he wants, but can he paint an Arab woman in the nude? Or can he roam famously barefooted in Qatar? Will he have gushing fans in a land where artistic freedom is still a foreign concept? And will have any outraged fan to stand by him if he rubs the Qatari Royalty the wrong way?

Still, Hussain’s rejection of India is a shameful indictment of a nation that has treated it’s most famous face so callously. Thousands of Indians give up their citizenship willingly every year to become citizens of U.S., Canada or Australia and we have no shame in claiming them as our sons and daughters every time they make it big. Hussain, on the other hand, walked barefoot into the greatest of International galleries and made the country proud each time. And we shunted him out of the country. I shudder to put myself in his shoes. We don’t deserve someone like MF Hussain. He could’ve so easily and deservingly been Bharat Ratna. (India’s Jewel)

Shame.

Sach00!! Sach00!!

This is a post I had written on the day Sachin scored ‘The’ Double..! For reasons even I don’t know, I did not post it. So reader, please imagine you’re reading this the day after Sachin broke the record.. it’ll might make more sense then..!!

***

And so finally somebody broke Saeed Anwar’s 13 year old record!! And it had to be Him!

Just a couple of days ago I spoke about how Sachin makes Indians proud and brings the country to a standstill and how he has ruled the hearts of millions. How an entire nation breaks into an applause everytime the little master dances down the track to hit a six. Or how everytime a billion hearts stop beating when he is on 99. Or how everyone, young and old, forget to breathe when Sachin is on song. Or how, all of a sudden, every person in Bombay seems to be in a great mood..! Or smile when people say, ‘Commit all your crimes when Sachin is batting, because even God is busy watching!’ Today, Sachin, did all of that once again.

           

Although I have so much to write about this breathtaking display of batting, I have run out of words! It’s impossible to try and explain Sachin in words..

Take a bow, Master..!! :)

An Open letter to – The Saviour of Saviours…

Disclaimer :- Bloggers are liable to the content they publish and therefore, I will use some easily guessable monikers to save my behind. Besides, I hate to ‘hurt’ public sentiments..!

***

To

The Goonda of all Goondas ,

The Führer of Bombay oops, Mumbai,  The King of the Great Warrior Clan- The SS (what an apt acronym!), To the Great Remote Control wielding Tiger, Beholder of our destinies... I prostrate myself before you..!!

                                                                                                                         

I am Ayyappan Pillai. I am a nobody. An Indian by Citizenship, Tamilian by birth and a Maharashtrian by domicile. I hate to disturb your afternoon siesta by writing this letter about a trifling issue. But these Middle-Class values just don’t seem to die.

Not long ago, your Son was talking about how he needed to change the image of violence attached with the SS and how he needed to work in the rural pockets of Maharashtra and gain their trust as well. I heard him extolling the benefits of welfarist politics and about resorting to the SS’s original ‘80% Social Work and  20% Politics’ motto.  Well, he is not the first politician to do a volte-face nor would he be the last, but your Son had briefly won my admiration and a silent acceptance. But now, He seems determined to wrench your political legacy (Of Hatred, Violence and Intimidation) from your nephew.

I can, therefore, understand the ‘Patriotism’ behind your Son’s opposition to the Pakistani players taking part the IPL. And everyone knows your penchant for digging up pitches and the Government also took your threat to poop on the seats seriously. But even I, your most ardent fan, was pleasantly surprised to know that you always were referring to the seats of the movie theatres. What a ruckus it created, Sir! Every newspaper was lauding your parochial politics. We always knew that the Khan was always a loudmouth, and a migrant loudmouth at that. The exercise proved beneficial for the both of you sir, The Khan’s movie became a raging hit and your Party’s sagging fortunes were revived.

I was also pleasantly surprised when you opposed the inclusion of Australian Players in the IPL as their countrymen were guilty of beating up the citizens of our country. Well, that sounded a bit rich coming from you Sir, as you have beaten more of our Countrymen than the Aussies ever will..! Besides, an IPL without the Pakistanis, The Australians, The Bhaiyyas, Muslims and the Madrasis would no longer be the (I)PL, perhaps you should rename it as well..!!

You claim to speak for the Marathis and the Maharashtrians but you seem to have targeted the most prominent and loved Marathis. Would you allow Sachin to play in Bombay, because Sachin is also guilty of being an Indian. And Sachin has made the Marathis and more so The Indians, more proud that you can ever!! He too, is guilty of bringing Bombay to a standstill by smashing the Aussies but the difference was that Bombay was always too thrilled to stop – And watch Sachin bat..!

At a time, when the whole world is moving forward at a dizzying pace, Sir, you with your parochial politics, are doing no good for the people of Maharashtra. Rather than scaring away the investor or bullying them with frivolous demands like Marathi signboards, we should find ways to woo them. Look at Mr. Modi, once he too indulged in exploiting people’s fear but soon he realised that it serves only a limited purpose. Setting up the odd Vada-Pav stall would do no good for the Marathi Manoos or to the state’s economy. It’s high time you realise that Bombay is in Maharashtra and not otherwise..!!

- Ek Maharastrian Manoos

Tahaan – A Delight..!!

I was intrigued by the movie long back when I saw it’s trailers. The star cast was impressive and the plot was interesting as well. Set in the backdrop of Kashmir, it was the story of a small boy and his pet donkey. I managed to miss the movie, but with so much left to catch up when it comes to movies and books, it is not difficult to forget one movie. Until recently.

            Perhaps, it was Friday, when the name of the movie cropped up. A friend casually mentioned that the protagonist of the movie, is my Dentist’s son. I happen to be one of the Dentist’s regular patients (Sigh!) My Dentist is a very handsome chap so his son in the movies was not something unimaginable. Predictably, I went home and googled ‘Tahaan’. It was indeed my dentist’s 8 year old son in the movie.

               I picked up the title the very next day. And was very excited about watching a movie I had long forgotten about. The prospect of watching Sarika, Rahul Bose, Anupam Kher and Victor Bannerjee was mouth watering. And of course, it featured my Dentist’s son! The title of the movie intrigued me. Tahaan in Marathi means thirst. I could not recall what it meant in Hindi or Urdu. Upon googling it, I realised that it meant ‘Merciful’ in some languages and in Bengali it meant ‘Tolerance’. In the end, Tahaan turned out to be the Kid’s name.

                                Tahaan’s mother (Sarika, expectedly brilliant performance) sells his pet donkey to a businessman make both the ends meet. The movie revolves around a distraught Tahaan trying to get Birbal, his pet Donkey, back. (Apt name for a donkey too!) Tahaan believes that his life’s purpose is to get his donkey back and would do anything for it.

 

 

 

The Kid (Purav Bhandare) was a revelation. He was so cute and so vulnerable at times, that you almost reach out to him to protect him from this world. Innocence , sensitivity was like second nature, when he cried, I smiled benignly almost as if to say, ‘Kid, don’t worry nothing’s going to happen, Indian movies have happy endings!’ Aah, how I wish I was a child again..!! :D