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..!! :)

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..!

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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

My brilliance.. in virulence..!

 Statutory Warning # 1: Reading this post may irritate some dunderheads. Who might later storm my house and beat me up..! I give two hoots..!! :D  

 

Statutory Warning # 2 : Please, don’t view my posts as Anti-Marathi, they are Pro- India.

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What if our Chota Cub passes out of Bombay Scottish, sails through college, does exceedingly well at the incumbent CAT and actually gets a call from one of the IIMs?

And what if it turned out to be IIM - Lucknow?

 

Any ordinary Marathi Manoos would have been in a dilemma. But not Cub Sir.

He roars into the mike, “My Son conquered IIM Lucknow, but he would not study there. He won’t step into the state that has been Maharashtra’s undoing..!”

A thunderous applause follows.

 

                   

 

And all of a sudden, I pop out of nowhere and grab the mike from Cub Sir’s hands. (It’s MY blog, you see!)

 

I roar into the mike now.

 

“All hail the upholder of Maratha Pride! It is He who has shown us The Way. Like scattered sheep we were wandering aimlessly but now, we’ve found our Shepherd. Like Moses parted the Sea with his staff to make way for the Christians, Cub Sir would part the Indians to make way for the Marathis!

      My fellow Maharashtrians, let us all, at this solemn moment, pledge to not waver like Cub Sir. Let His wisdom give us the strength to emulate him.

             Let us all pledge to never desert Maharashtra. Even if our kids make it to the IITs and the IIMs, let them serve Maharashtra in Maharashtra, for we were fortunate enough to be born here. So, let our children live, rot and die here without ever stepping out of Maharashtra for they were equally fortunate to be born here. Let us kill them all by confining their bright, young minds within the walls of a city and the confines of a language. Let’s poison their thoughts while our leaders indulge themselves in a disgusting orgy of renaming schools and erecting token memorials! Let us rest on our laurels, slip into a trance and croak our throats out over our superiority over the rest of ‘them’! Croak – yes.. we’ll croak because we’re no better than the proverbial frog in the well..!”

 

I am finished. I return the mike to Cub Sir.

There is pin drop silence. One man gets up and yells an obscenity at me. Others follow suit.. soon they start throwing slippers at me.

 

Alas! Nobody likes to listen to the truth..

A Driver, Me...and Raj

“Faaltu main aaya main!” I said, scanning the roster. I shouldn’t have come.

The three guys who were supposed to be with me in the cab did not come fearing for their safety.I was in the cab alone with the driver. I wished I knew in advance that they weren’t coming. I would’ve stayed back too.

Sighing, I rolled down the window and looked outside. The normally bustling streets were deserted today. The empty streets somehow reminded me of Mani Ratnam’s Bombay. The scene where Tinnu Anand surveys a burning Bombay from inside a white ambassador car flashed before me eyes. Somehow, I felt I was him.

The numbers were ringing in my mind. As many as 202 State Transport Buses, 350 Taxis , 115 BEST buses, 3 trucks and 4 private vehicles were smashed or gutted down across Maharashtra in a frenzied display of hatred.  All for a man spewing hate, mocking the constitution and indulging in regional terrorism. If he had even an iota of concern for the Marathi cause, they would have prospered. I was thinking about that young railways aspirant who lost his life for daring to seek employment by just means. And I knew Raj would get bail tomorrow. For murder. Again.

“Sir, ek baat bolun?” said that driver, breaking my chain of thoughts. Can I say something?

“Aap agar aaj nahin aate toh kuch nahin hota. Nahin toh bhi 60% employees nahin aaye hain.” He said. If you would not have come today, it wouldn’t have created much of a scene, as it is, 60% of the employees haven’t reported to work either.

He then went on to add that he would have left for home too. His parents were very worried.

He continued, “Saala gaadi bhi darke chalana padh raha hai..kahin se aa gaye toh apne toh vaande ho jaayenge.” I can’t even drive without fear lest they pop up from somewhere... we can very well forget about reaching office then.

“Yaar, tumko kyaa tension hai, tum toh Marathi ho..agar pakda, toh bol dena, ‘Mee Pan Marathi Manoos aahe!’, chhod denge turanth!” I said. I think it came out more sarcastically than I intended. Dude, why do you have to fear, you’re a Marathi guy, tell them .. I am Marathi too; they’ll spare you immediately.

“Kyaa sir, aisi baatein karte ho. Abhi gaadi kaa kaanch phodne ke baad mereko sorry bolke kyaa faaida? Voh log toh sabse pehle phatthar phenkte hain..” How can you say that sir? They throw stones at passing cars. And what’s the point in apologising after the windshield is smashed?”

I knew the company wouldn’t pay for that. Nor can they claim insurance in riot like situations. Besides, windshields cost a bomb when smashed.

“Abhi voh Nashik main maara voh Hindustan Lever kaa employee, voh toh Marathi thaa. Kyaa hua? Raj ne maafi maanga. Lekin kya sir, Murder ke liye bhi maafi maangke nikal jaaneka kya? Saala, kuch kimmat hi nahi hai apna?” He asked. Last time, they killed an employee of Hindustan Lever. He turned out to be a Marathi. What did Raj do? He apologised. Well, can you walk away with a murder by just tendering an apology? What’s the value of our lives?

Well, it was an employee of Hindustan Aeronautics Limited who lost his life at Nashik earlier this year. And it was true that Raj’s men literally walked away with murder then.

The driver asked, “Sir, abhi raatko kaise kyaa neend aata rahegaa usko? How does he manage to sleep at night?

There was no way I could reply to this.

I looked outside. I was wondering the same.

In the train Yesterday....

Was in the train yesterday. Me and a few office colleagues had planned to watch a movie for the weekend and were on the way. (We would regret it very soon. :P)

A fruit seller came into the compartment and was loudly merchandising his wares . 

"Santre le lo santre! Sirf Paanch Rupaye kaa Teen!" He said in chaste Hindi. Oranges, juicy oranges! Get three for only Five Rupees.

It was Saturday afternoon and the train was not crowded. The Fruit Vendor, apparently from Uttar Pradesh, was making brisk sales and enjoying the fact that he actually got a seat in the train to conduct his business.

A man selected some oranges and said, "Atta tuu Mumbaila aala aahe, Marathit bol, mee paishe deto magh."   You are doing business in Mumbai now, speak in Marathi, then I'll pay the Money. 

The vendor's expression became grim and he quickly sized the situation. The Man was seemed harmless and was smiling while holding the money in his hand. "Santre ghyaa, Santre.. !! Faktah Paach rupay laa teen." The Fruit Vendor yelled in fluent Marathi.

Pleased, the Man paid the money to the fruit seller. And the seller switched to Hindi again, talking in Marathi only when the Man playfully glared at him. It was apparent that the Man just wanted some fun at the innocent fruit seller's expense and the fruit seller's sudden burst of Marathi lightened everybody's mood. The vendor too, enjoyed the attention and the sales as well.

A tense moment had passed and in the end, all were smiling.

Ah! Mumbai..thy woes of water..

I think I am running the risk of turning my blog into a news item. But hell, this does concern me. The Standing Committee had introduced a proposal to start with 24 * 7 water supply for the city. A very welcome decision, sure to end our water woes.

"A 24 hr water supply for the entire city!" I thought, "Ah! Mumbai, you're going places!"

I believe that this is something we deserved the day we surpassed Cherapunji for the highest rainfall in a day.

The proposal was shown to the BMC by an Official who had prepared a PowerPoint presentation to demonstrate how the Standing Committee was to bring the plan into action. The audience was curious to see what this educated officer had to show them.

The Officer started in English fluently and went about explaining how the rain water would be harvested effectively and the wastage of water due to leakage be stopped. The Officer, as a management student , thought that he was presenting a proposal to his superiors and so was at his professional best. Little did he realise that his bosses spoke little English.

The Babus, who at best, could only stutter in English were incensed at the audacity of this young Officer who dared to address them in a language other than Marathi. Not even Hindi, English!!!! They then did what they knew best.

They stormed out of the room leaving behind a dumbfounded speaker. With them, went away our dreams of a 24 hour water supply.

This Sunday......

I was at the Vashi station. I was in a hurry, late for office already. Now in a long queue for the tickets. The lady next to me had a bag that read "Gandhi Khadi Bhandar". It was a plastic bag. I winced at the irony of it all. The woman,oblivious to my observations, bought her ticket and left. I could not help but smile. The cynic in me.
I was throwing anxious glances at my watch the wait seemed like an eternity. I finally got a ticket. I was running towards the platform. I saw a woman inserting change into a ticketing machine that wasn't working(I had tried that before). Still running, I glanced backwards. The woman was now pounding at the machine that was not spitting out the tickets. I looked at her again. She was a middle aged woman, educated very obviously techno phobic trying to get used to senseless machines and was bad at reading error messages. In short, a common middle aged, middle class woman. Like my mom.
It's funny how fast your mind performs these logical functions. I felt an impulse to assist the lady. I stopped.I went back to the woman who was still pounding on the machine hoping it would at least return the money if not the ticket.
I touched her on the shoulder and told her that the machine was not working.
"Kaai??" She asked in Marathi. What
"Ha machine chaalat nahi." I replied. This machine is not working.
"Aata paishe taakle mee, parat pan nahi bhetnaar kaa?? " She asked. I inserted some coins. Wont I even get that money back?
"Ithe bagha kaai lihla aahe" See whats written here. I said pointing towards the display, "This machine is out of service. It wont dispense tickets" The machine declared flatly.
"Ooh!" The woman sighed. Obviously embarrassed.
She said that she was at this machine for close to 10 minutes was very disappointed at the effort being wasted. She wanted to avoid the long queue. I offered to get the tickets for her.
"Nako re, bala." She said, ruffling my hair." Majha mulga aahe naa." No, my dear, my son will do that for me.
A shy, 10 year old kid was smiling at me.
I smiled back.
I had missed my train.