On sexuality

I am sure this post will surely attract some attention-- positive or negative, with the balance towards the latter I guess! In a society that feeds itself of a daily diet of violence and controversy (keeping the present state of the country in mind, I am pretty sure this doesn't sound like an exaggeration!), what topic can be more discussed or debated upon than sexuality? Sorry, did I say 'discussed'? Should've said 'whispered about'. The whole problem is about not openly discussing sex. That's why we've got thousands of teenagers secretly watching porn, and yet shying away from talking sex among elders and members of the other sex!

The reason why I am writing this blogpost is that some classmates of mine commented that a certain Jodie Foster film named The Accused is a porno-flick. Frankly enough, I haven't watched the movie. But I've watched and observed Foster well enough to say that she doesn't need to do porn-flicks! Because, she is a two-time Oscar-winner and one of the most talented actresses around in Hollywood. Wanna know which film she won the first Oscar for? It's the same 'porno-flick'-- The Accused. I hope the Oscar commitee hasn't stooped so low that it's awarding an Oscar for a role in a 'porn-flick'!! Secondly, and more importantly, Foster was portrayed as a woman who was gangraped by a group of drunk rowdy men in a nightclub. Now that is food for thought-- why did a brutal rape-scene filmed really and painfully well (many sites rated the rape-scene as brilliantly filmed) seem titillating to a group of teenaged-students who've been born into and brought up by 'cultured' families? Have their consciences become so benumbed that something a cruel and ghastly as a rape-scene seems like 'porn' to them? Porn, as far as I can say, is a intentional portrayal of sex, not the picturisation of someone being violated! There was a lot of talk in the class about Foster being totally naked-- which, according to my dear classmates qualified The Accused as a porn movie. Now this is absolutely ridiculous-- (and to put it in a quite crude way) what else do you expect when a woman is being raped?

I won't make this post any longer, but will end stating that this episode makes me wonder again at how much we have progressed since the early days? There was that golden era of sexual liberalisation during the Hippie-infused 60's. How much has our ideas about sexuality changed since then? And when shall we accept the fact that sex is something as natural as eating or going to sleep? And why all this excited whispers about dirty jokes, and yet no frank discussion on sex in the public?

Life is Beautiful

Roberto Benigni's Life is Beautiful, which he has both directed and acted in, is one of the most remarkable movies I have ever watched. And I shall tell you why.

It's often said that laughter is the best medicine. Benigni tells you how: even Death shies away when it hears the sound of laughter. Laughter is hope: it is the warmth that keeps the heart going on when the dementors of gloom attack us. It's immensely difficult to laugh when you are surrounded by death, darkness, disease and gloom. But if you can, you have lived your life. Fred and George Weasley did so-- and therefore they remain one of my most favourite characters in Harry Potter.

The first half of the movie is a romantic comedy: a poor Italian Jew named Guido (played by Benigni) arrives in Arezzo and sets up a bookstore. He falls in love with a woman from a noble family named Dora, who is captivated by Guido's charismatic and funny persona. Guido makes you laugh at his innocence and eccentric behaviour, and then onwards you start immensely liking him. On Dora's engagement day, Guido elopes with her on horseback from the party itself, to the bewilderment of Dora's loud and rude fiance. Guido and Dora have a wonderful little boy called Joshua years later.

The second (and darker) part of the film is what makes the film truly remarkable. Just when you think that you've seen and heard all this before, Benigni subtly begins narrating his story of heartwarming hope and bravery. The whole Jewry in Arezzo is sent to a Nazi concentration camp: including Guido, his uncle and Joshua. Like a truly brave woman, Dora pleads to join them, and her wish is granted. Guido, the master concocter of stories, convinces Joshua that the whole concentration camp thing is all a big game and all the inmates are opponents, the first one of whom to accumulate a thousand points gets a big grand military tank as a gift (A funny and beautifully shot scene is the one where Guido bravely and confidently 'translates' the German general's orders to his son and the other inmates: laying out the supposed rules of the game!). But for that grand prize Joshua must obey his father. Time and again, Joshua comes to know that there's no real game, and that all the inmates must die at one time or the other: only to be convinced later by Guido that since all the inmates and their children are opponents eager to get the prize, they are trying to fool Joshua into quitting the game. Guido's assurance that they are leading the game further convinces the innocent, wide-eyed and endearing Joshua that Papa is right (Joshua therefore agrees to hide-- all the time under the happy delusion that hiding gets him and his father more and more points-- from the guards, who actually send the children to gas-chambers under the vague pretence of delousing showers). Of course, Papa's penchant to make instant stories and his fluid acting make it almost real for anyone to believe! And for that Guido deserves all the more praise. That after a gruelling and back-breaking day's work, he has both the energy, bravery, wit and humour to convince his son makes you fall in love with him. Just to cheer Dora's spirits up, Guido plays her their favourite operetta from a stray gramophone one particular evening.

Suddenly there's news everywhere that the World War II is over. In a last attempt to eradicate Jews, the guards round up the Jewish inmates of the camp and kill them. Guido asks Joshua to hide in a sweatbox, assuring him that it shall fetch them sixty points-- just enough to get them the tank, which will be presented to them the next morning. The cheerful Guido is killed by a Nazi, but not before he manages to make Joshua laugh heartily one last time. The next morning, the Allies enter the concentration camp to save the inmates. In a final grand scene, a US tank arrives and Joshua ecstatically exclaims, "It's true", as if all the doubts in his mind about his father's assurances (on the grand prize) have been cleared in an instant. Joshua and Dora find each other, with a graver and older Joshua's voice ringing in the background as the last scene ends: "...and this was his gift to me." And at that moment you realise that laughter is life, and life is beautiful in its splendour and mystery.

Benigni as Guido is par excellence. He'll make you laugh and cry all at once: laugh at his innocence, bravery and humour; cry at his sad fate. The supporting cast of actors is also good, especially the child-artist Giorgio Cantarini (who incidentally plays Maximus' son in Gladiator): you'll love the beautiful, expressive, inquisitive and innocent eyes he has inherited from his screen-parents. Not to mention Benigni, the superb director!

Two facts about this movie: Life is Beautiful is roughly the inspiration behind the Saif Ali Khan and Rani Mukherjee starrer, Ta Ra Rum Pum (which I have already watched). Secondly, this movie was the late Pope John Paul II's favourite. Watch it if you want to find the meaning of laughter and love, and the bravery that both need to be expressed. A timeless classic of human emotion.

'Shei Shomoy' (Those days) by Sunil Gangopadhyay

I finished 'Shei Shomoy' (or 'Those Days', which I guess you have already read and enjoyed!) finally-- was a rather long, but equally enjoyable,read! I rate it as one of the best novels ever written in the historical fiction genre. To start with, the blend of real-life stars of yesteryears with fictional characters was awesome, to say the least. Vidyasagar, not really the protagonist in the book, strangely left the most lasting impression in my mind. In fact, now I have placed Vidyasagar up there in my list of the greatest men to have graced India-- along with Tagore, and my idol Gandhiji. Nabinkumar, and more importantly Ganganarayan, his elder brother, come just behind Vidyasagar. I literally wept when Ganganarayan's love, Bindubaashini died, ending her miserable life-- not only did she have to stay away from the man she loved, but she was already a widow; and then she had to stand the humiliation of being someone's hired prostitute in Benaras. And still she found enough reason to continue living after having a child!


And then when Ganga returned to fulfill his incomplete duties towards the farmers whom he once ruled, I couldn't help but idolise the man for his extreme sense of responsibility. It was somewhat good that Ganga learnt to love again-- his marriage to Kusumkumari was blissful.While Kusumkumari found a new lease of life, after her hellish marriage with a madman, Ganga found a reason to continue living. And given the useless and dreamy romantic that I am, I was of course quite happy for the two. It was also touching to note how Ganga remembers Bindu, saying that while he once again found life and love, she had to die a sad woman.


Nabinkumar (who is, I guess, based on Kaliprasanna Singha) is an altogether different story. The extremely whimsical, and yet superbly talented and kind-hearted, Nabin is torn between two different worlds. He leaves the world in a turmoil-- with lots of unfinished duties, dreams and ambitions. Nabin, is in my eyes, the best of Bengali multi-millionaires we've heard of. Not only is he extremely sensible and humane, he is always in search of something good and noble. And while all the others babus are busy engaging in wine and women, Nabin writes extensively, and tries to rid the society of evils. A rather nice thing about Nabin is that he likes people who speak frankly, and not sycophants and flatterers. One of the more subtle points in the whole book is the love triangle of Nabin, Ganga and Kusum. Nabin seems to love his wife, Sarojini, and yet he has very deep emotions for Kusumkumari. Nabin avoids talking much to Kusum, because he doesn't want to affect his brother's and his wife's lives. The more intriguing question is that: does Kusum love Nabin? Certainly seems so. After Nabin's death, Kusum is silently mourning. And yet Kusum actually still loves her husband Ganga. Isn't love a strange, and yet very beautiful, thing? Seems so to me!


Harish Mukherjee and Chandranath (the son of the prostitute 'Heera Bulbul') leave their footprints on my mind too. Harish is a tireless fighter, waging wars against oppression (and ultimately dying, leaving the whole thinking world in sorrow), while Chandranath has to fight society all his life long. Chandranath, an extremely intelligent and sensitive boy, is thrown out of school, and later hurt badly, only because he is the son of a prostitute. This makes me question: are we to blame the prostitutes for the sex trade? Don't the two-faced babus themselves go to the sex-workers, and later treat the same people as scum? Isn't the world a hypocrite's paradise? Determined to fight on, Chandranath returns as a gentleman, to eradicate blind-belief in sadhus, yogis and other crooks. It's quite funny to see how Chandranath turns the 'faithful' crowd of devotees against the very babas they worship. Ironically, Chandranath still has to fight society-- babus burn his house down and hurt him very badly, because he saves a prostitute from the hungry and violent claws of the rich and the famous. It's a cruel decision of fate by which Chandranath and Nabin never get to become good friends-- something that has saddened me quite a lot. The other figures whom I shall distinctly and fondly remember are Raimohan (I believe each society needs a master whistle-blower like him), 'Young Bengal', and of course, Michael Madhusudhan Dutta.


The hate-figures finally! Barring the usual plethora of disgusting babus and orthodox Hindus, I hated Bidhushekhar the most. Strange, isn't it? Let me explain. Bidhu never looked at Bimbabati with respect-- all he had for her was lust. What was most disgusting was the way Bidhu forgave his lust all by himself-- all the while saying that Ganga was wrong to desire his daughter, Bindu. That is damned hypocrisy! Also worth mention is the attitude with which Bidhu treated the Singhas-- he kept repeating in his mind that he could destroy the Singhas if he wished too, and the only reason why he didn't do so was his love for his late friend Ramkamal Singha. I believe no true friend ever thinks such about a "dear friend's" family! Also in the list of hate-figures is Thaakomoni, the widowed woman who went onto become a servant, and then the boss of them, in the Singha mansion. One can say that fate had forced her to become the way she was-- I say that if we don't allow fate to take control of us, we can always be free.

Film review: Black Friday

Image: The Interrogation.

Anurag Kashyap's docu-style enactment of the '93 Bombay Blasts case, the biggest criminal case in Indian legal history, is earth-shattering (pun intended!) to be quite frank. The film starts with Gandhiji's immortal words: "An eye for an eye wil make the Earth blind." (and hey, it ends with the same) And what follows is some ten minutes or so of pure gore, bloodspill, death, pandemonium of titanic proportions. The very look on a scorched man's face says more than a thousand words of mine can ever express about the impact that those blasts had. What is quite ironical about the blasts is that even though a petty criminal had revealed some crucial details of the blasts before they occured, the police were too confident to believe those: dismissing that man's words as mere foolery.

Kashyap superbly shows each and every minute detail of the planning and execution of the blasts. Kashyap follows the police as it tracks each and every criminal involved in the blasts. And like a house of cards, the whole hierarchy of underworld gangsters starts falling down. The ruthless, tactful and efficient style of interrogation adopted by the Mumbai police often borders on bloody torture. To get the correct facts out, the police leave no stone unturned: even going as far as publicly humiliating the kindred, women included, of the suspects. Kay Kay Menon plays the role of a touch cop with elan: adding a tangible reality to the role, which makes it all the more credible. When Kay Kay, himself quite disturbed due to the the inhuman methods his subordinates and himself have to resort, thrusts his head into a bucket full of water; it strikes me as one of the most sublime moments in the whole movie (of course, the blast scenes are the most mind-bogglingly filmed!). In the second half, the film proceeds mostly through the narrative of one Badshah Khan, himself a suspect-turned-police-witness: Badshah reveals how he gets to meet the wily Tiger, who convinces him that killing hindus (or what is put under the misnomer of 'Jihad') is the only way one can seek vengeance for the horrible Babri Masjid issue, and the following religious riots in Mumbai. Badhshah then narrates how the whole plan of planting bombs is laid out and effectively executed. What is most remarkable is the way the flight of Badshah from the police is filmed. The hapless guy has to travel from one town to another, one city to another, living in filthy conditions quite often; promised that he'll be taken to Dubai soon, and then left to die in the hands of the police by Tiger Memon and the higher ranks in the Mumbai Underworld. Incidentally, it's the heaped-up tension and frustation that spurs Badshah to turn into a police-witness. There's a certain flashback towards the end of the film which shows how Tiger Memon, his associates and agents of ISI plan to execute a grand show of 'Jihad' to terrify Hindu hearts, and seek revenge for the injustice lent out to the Muslims-- which is absolutely fabulously shot.

The dialogue in the film is very commendable. There's a certain line where Kay Kay answers a group of reporters on the allegation that the police are violating human rights when brutally interrogating suspects: (I am presenting just a mere translation of what Kay Kay says in Hindi) "When we interrogate cruel murderers cruelly, you enquire about violation of human rights. Why don't you ask us about violation of human rights when hundreds of innocent people die in the blasts? The guys in lockup we are interrogating aren't innocent people, they are hardcore terrorists; and we'd be quite happy to hand over the interrogation to all of you! Unless you humiliate these guys and their family-members, you can't get a word out of their mouths!"
In a conversation with Badhshah, Kay Kay says: "You, who kills in the name of religion, are a bastard. And so is the hindu who kills you and your people in the name of religion." I can't agree more. No religion ever promotes or justifies unjust warfare, and people who kill in the name of 'religion' are the biggest hypocrites in the world. "You think that your Tiger Memon is a Jihaadi. Why is he sitting in Dubai with his family now, while you people are rotting here in our jails?" Kay Kay continues, "You think that Allah was with you all the while, when you took revenge for the damage inflicted on you. Allah always blesses the one who seeks truth, and if we had not been seekers of the just truth, you would'nt be standing before us here!"

The film however scores the most in technique, camera, direction and acting: every little detail in the film is as credible as real (even the guy who plays Dawood Ibrahim). Just watch the film to understand why I speak so highly of it: it's something you should never miss.

Commentary: Traffic Signal.

I recently watched the Hindi movie Traffic Signal some days back. Though the ending was a bit rushed up, it was a nice film to watch-- moreso because I am an admirer of Madhur Bhandarkar's school of filmmaking. Bhandarkar's films are always based on the harsh truths of life, and quite often about the double-standards of the rich and famous of the world. They are fresh in content each time-- though with similar themes-- and are made in a very straightforward, and often stomach-churning, manner. I really loved the performances of Konkona Sen Sharma (who's one of my most favourite actresses), Sudhir Mishra (he was a knockout in the form of the don Baba Sheikh!), Ranvir Shorey (portraying with precision the heart-broken drug-addicted conman who sees his lover, a prostitute, forced to sleep with other men every night) and most of the supporting cast. The film made me wonder again-- who's to blame for the beggars who are forced to con people at the traffic signals (and elsewhere) to earn money enough to feed themselves? Aren't we the real criminals? Haven't we as a nation unnecessarily increased its population to the point where per capita income is so meagre that even the poorest American gets a good laugh after having a look at the figures? Haven't we reduced this country to a producer of the largest contingent of beggars, handicapped people, BPO and IT employees ourselves? Haven't we taken the shortest road too often, thus making our country the victim of our own laziness, corruption and lack of determination?

One of the most understated subplots, which I rate as exceptionally brilliant, involved a poor beggar boy who wants to make his dark skin fair. The innocent boy believes that some fancy skin-fairness cream may help him do so-- and therefore he spent some hard-earned money to buy a tube of that. Only to realise after much and repeated use that he won't become fair! The poor boy vents his anger on a large advertisement, of the cream's brand, by the roadside. While on the surface, this may seem to be a somewhat amusing portrayal of an innocent boy's foolishness, a deeper read suggests issues more serious: poor people blindly chasing dreams they can't achieve. That's human nature-- something Tagore immortalised in his superb short story The Postmaster. We dream, often fail in achieving our dreams, only to chase new dreams in vain again. It's the unending cycle of human wants and desires-- which Buddha rightly notes as being the source of maximum unrest in the world. Read over again-- it's the poor boy's dream to become fair that causes him a heartbreak.(On a lighter note: some of the girls may kindly learn that no "fairness-cream" can turn a black complexion into something fairer. That's medically impossible! It's insane on the part of the companies to project some fancy fairness-cream as a source of inspiration to young minds-- who become singing or dancing superstars in 30 days after using the cream! That's really lame. :P)

If I had to pick my favourite actor from the lot in the movie, I'd choose Ranvir Shorey (followed by Konkona Sen Sharma). Shorey excels in the role of a conman-- addicted to drugs, dejected and rejected my normal society, and in love with a prostitute who sleeps with numerous other men but can't afford to comfort Ranvir. It's painful to see Ranvir die of excessive drug overdose, and a totally broken heart. I wonder why such a superb actor gets to play only small roles in films! The next budding director should go and catch Ranvir, who, by the way, makes a superb comedy pair with Vinay Pathak. Shorey and Pathak can make you laugh really well-- and it isn't the kind of crude comedy which makes Johnny Lever irritating after a while. I love both of 'em. Konkona does really well as Ranvir's lover, the prostitute, who herself is very sad to see Ranvir die. Konkona, along with Rani Mukherjee, gets my nod as the two best actresses (wonder why even actresses are called 'actors' nowadays!) in Bollywood at the moment-- of course notwithstanding such classic veterans as Jaya Bachchan and Shabana Azmi. And oh, I was forgetting Mr. Attitude, Sudhir Mishra. He plays the cold-blooded Godfather-style mafia with aplomb.

P.S.: I deliberately chose a film like Traffic Signal instead of some classic, because it's relatively easy to write about classics. So many renowned critics write about them anyway! I chose this relatively "non-classic" film, which is more than watchable by any standards, only because it allowed me to write something original without copying stuff from other reviews. :P

A big thank you...!

Dear readers,
I am both pleasantly surprised and hugely grateful to all of you for the positive feedback I have received over the past few days. I can't express in words how happy it makes me when people say that they love to read whatever I write. It's been all the more happier to know that people whom I respect and love very much like reading this blog. I won't take names, because some of them don't like being spoken about on public forums such as this. No matter-- a big THANK YOU to all of you.

And hey Mr. 'slangy' Anonymous, I never invited you to visit my blog. Why do you waste your time writing stuff that doesn't disturb me anymore. I used to get upset earlier, but now I've accepted your folly as a part and parcel of this journey.

P.S.: Actually, I broke a promise, in not posting for a long time, that I had made to myself when I created this blog-- to post at least once in every two weeks.

How nice of my acquaintances and friends!

I've been posting for about some one and a half months on a variety of topics, and yet for the past three weeks no one worthwhile has cared to look up (or even if they did so!) and comment. No one worthwhile, I repeat. But lots of anonymous chaps showing their skills in using the choicest of Bengali profanities. And not to forget some owner of a site who has petitioned to the UN (that's what I found out after I googled for the site's name) saying that Gandhiji was a hypocrite and a shameless racist, and that the UN's plans to celebrate World Peace day on October 2 should be cancelled. And also another anonymous chap giving me a link to 'earn free money'.

No one to say anything on gandhism, Harry Potter book 7, human love, SMS text (excluding the previous participants of course)-- at least no one in the past three weeks. Is that proof of a suspicion that I have held for long, in the recesses of my mind-- that I am a boring/utterly incapable/irrelevant/foolish/a worthless know-it-all writer. At least assure me that. I'll stop wasting my and your precious time here at my blog.

On the contrary, if you think that I have some worth-- care to comment when you visit my blog. Kindly read the posts once and let me know your opinions. This is an earnest request.