One of my favourite scenes in a movie is in Notting Hill, where Hugh Grant is in the bookstore where he meets Julia Roberts for the first time, and is browsing through the travel section. He picks up a book on Turkey and asks the shop owner for what he thinks about the book. Without as much as batting an eyelid, the owner of the store replies “Unlike the other travel writers, this one’s actually been to Turkey.” I must have gotten the words out of order, but I’m glad I remember the essence of the statement from that scene. In putting down my thoughts here, I feel like one of the ‘other writers’ that hasn’t been to the proverbial Turkey; Britain in this case.
I’m not sure where and why it started, quite like the Industrial Revolution, which also (you’ll see why) started in England. My guess is it might have been that evening in December when I was out bargaining with the street vendor to knock off a couple of bucks from the skull cap I was looking to buy. He wasn’t too keen on giving me a monetary kickback on the cap, but he threw in a freebie and said I could have a bandanna with the skull cap if I bought it at the quoted price. The last time I wore a bandanna was 5 years ago when we were skiing for 2 weeks in Solang Valley near Manali. I have the photograph to prove it, and it was the Union Jack bandanna. I asked the cap-seller on the street that wintry evening if he had a Union Jack bandanna, and as it turned out, he had one last piece remaining. It was a good deal for the buyer and the seller.
It isn’t unreasonable to assume that somebody wearing an ‘I love NY’ tee on the streets in Bangalore has in fact returned from NY (or has someone he/she knows who’s returned from NY, in which case it makes the person nothing short of a complete twat). But that same assumption doesn’t qualify for the Union Jack bandanna. An over-sized kerchief around your head bearing the colours of Great Britain doesn’t suggest anymore than deducing that the cost of onion, petrol and beer this week are all on an even keel. But I must have anticipated it that very moment, and since clarity lies only in hindsight, I am only now allowed to see that all this while I had been swooning to sparkles that could only be British. Allow me elaborate.
In a world that is so American as in what it eats, wears, reads and sings, it is easy to overlook what Britain gave us. I can only speak for myself here, and I will point out how British influences have been filing the good part of the day for an average guy like me. In the books category, I started off reading Jeremy Clarkson’s ‘The World according to Clarkson’. The book was a breezer, and it could as well have been an audio book for the voice of Clarkson was distinct as it is on television. I’m not sure if it was chance, or divine order, but the next book was Bill Bryson’s 'Notes from a Small Island'. Now, I haven’t read any other travel book on Britain, but I can be forgiven in assuming that none other gets better than Bryson’s work. As the critical acclaim on the cover says that there is as much of Bryson in the book as there is of Britain itself. I have now moved on to another Bryson hit, 'Down Under' about his travel through Australia, which for the record is taken as Britain’s cousin. There’s just no getting away.
The shows I was playing on my computer were quintessentially Brit. There was the world’s best TV show currently, Top Gear (of course), and if you haven’t already I would urge you to catch their Middle East special that came out during Christmas. For me, personally, TG is a travel, fun and adventure show where the occasional car breaks out. But then, you haven’t gotten your head around British Television if you haven’t watched Yes Minister and Yes Prime Minister. I had always intended to watch both these shows, but it had remained there on my to-do-sometime-in-the-future-list; like reading the Mahabartha and Ramayana. I had just never gotten around to it. But then the timing was right, and I settled in my head once and for all the debate about the greatest sitcom ever made. Meanwhile, I got a category ‘A’ recommendation to watch 'The Office'. I inadvertently ended up downloading 'Office' which is the original British series after which the American 'The Office' is made. Coincidence? Maybe not.
It would be criminal to leave out the music playing on my i-pod these last couple of days. I find it more than a mere chance that they have been The Who, Beatles, Dire Straits and U2 (Irish can count as UK). I spent my Sunday watching the rockumentary 'Flight 666' about the heavy-metal band Iron Maiden. What blokes in the band! From the first minute, the hair at the back your neck is standing straight, and there’s nothing you can do about it.
I turned on the cable television to find that BBC Entertainment was now being aired, which means more awesome shows. I spent considerable time at the British Library last week looking for a book they didn’t have but instead ended up reading Jeeves. I paced the aisles at Marks and Spencer waiting on a friend as she was let loose on the sale they had going there. The weather in Bangalore this winter was most certainly Brit, what with cloudy overcast skies and cold mornings. The cricket was great. The coffee was hot. The beer flowed freely. In short, this could just as well have been Britain, except that it wasn’t.
A two months' road-trip through England is on my bucket-list. But given the glimpse of England I have witnessed right here at home, I feel safe in saying that the feeling of walking through customs at Heathrow and into the warm London summer morning when the day comes, is going to be almost an anti-climax.
Showing posts with label Entertainment. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Entertainment. Show all posts
Monday, January 24, 2011
Monday, March 22, 2010
Through the lookers’ eyes: 5 societal trends that IPL ads want us to know
This IPL has been an ad fest. All this while, ads were shown only between overs, drinks breaks and when wickets fell. This time, they’re playing them in between deliveries (took a great deal of self control to refrain from using the word balls); and not just as the fast bowler walks back to take his run-up, even the spinners are not spared. So for the viewers, it’s not just the flurry of ads that is irksome, it’s the fact that most of these ads are pathetic means that one needs a greater degree of tolerance to put up with them. Watch the Tata Docomo ad, where the guy dumps his girlfriend and walks out with this other chik, if you aren’t convinced. Here’s an open appeal to Mr. Ratan Tata to fire the ad agency, and the VP of marketing of Tata Docomo. Shoddy stuff. The Zoozoo ads too are average at best.
But like Sherlock says in the movie, one can still make order out of chaos. I’ve tried to capture some of the emerging trends in the market place that advertisers are seeing this IPL time and playing to the tunes accordingly.
1) A bit of Tiger for everyone: Aircel started the ‘There are only 1411 left’ campaign, and several folks are now jumping on this boat. A couple of the Vodafone’s zoozoo ads feature the zoozoos’ accidental misadventures with the wild cat. Though not directly featuring the tiger, one of Airtel’s direct cable connection ads shows a cheetah running across and encourages people to watch wild life shows on TV.
2) Nimboo pani: Summer is about to set in, and it’s time for the soft drink makers to up the campaigns. But there are visibly three companies pitching for consumers to drink lemon flavored soft drinks. My guess is that lemon drinks don’t enjoy a high market share in India. And with the colas coming under fire every now and then, companies are looking to back themselves up by creating a larger market for nimbu paani. Minute Maid, Nimbuuuz and 7UP Lemon are at it, with the first two showcasing their product as being no different from freshly cut lime mixed in water.
3) AC for India: Keeping with the theme of summer, this is the perfect time for fan and air conditioner companies to get to work. Havells is excited like never before about its fans and safe-switches for hand held air dryers. But what interested me more were the air-conditioners. Amongst others, Samsung, Voltas and Godrej have been repetitively screening their ads with a heavy emphasis on the fact that their ACs are ‘made for India’. The reason ACs haven’t penetrated household markets in India is primarily due to the fear people have of a high electricity bill that might result therefore. So most people who would like to have an AC at home never buy one due to this fear. If you look at these three ads again, it’s not surprising to find that the central idea is that of ACs that consume less power.
4) Mobile phones for rural markets: It was only after reading a story in last month’s edition of Forbes could I understand the cause for the sudden influx of small time mobile phone makers challenging the Nokias, Sonys and Samsungs. Have you ever stopped and wondered the same thing? Until a few months back who had even heard of mobile phones from Micromax, Maxx, Lemon, Lava, Inq, Spice and Videocon? As much as we see mobile communication all around us, a great part of the rural market still remains untouched. The same is true for dual-sim mobiles for urban crowds. My guess is that most of these new players want a share of both these pies. This has really woken up the established players to start looking at their options. Understand the Samsung Guru mobile ad featuring Aamir Khan from this perspective, and it should make sense.
5) Gojiyo.com: A last observation is the launch of Godrej’s virtual reality portal gojiyo.com. The advertisement displays two subtle yet remarkable trends in the economy. Number one, the Indian youth is ready to accept or at least try a hand at virtual reality; something that Second Life despite all its success in the west could not make a dent in the Indian market. A name like Second Life is very niche, compared to a more mass appealing name like gojiyo. The second observation, in my opinion is to be considered with more weight than the first. It basically says that you still need to advertise a website on television. Since the internet penetration in India in still low, companies still need to go to the television crowds to preview a teaser of their websites. This shouldn’t really come as a surprise if you also observed that the number of ads for television sets is noticeably high this IPL.
This article is not an ad feature, and opinions mentioned here are solely mine. Brand names have been taken out of free-will, and I have kept away from providing back-links to any of them.
If you liked this article, you might also want to read this.
But like Sherlock says in the movie, one can still make order out of chaos. I’ve tried to capture some of the emerging trends in the market place that advertisers are seeing this IPL time and playing to the tunes accordingly.
1) A bit of Tiger for everyone: Aircel started the ‘There are only 1411 left’ campaign, and several folks are now jumping on this boat. A couple of the Vodafone’s zoozoo ads feature the zoozoos’ accidental misadventures with the wild cat. Though not directly featuring the tiger, one of Airtel’s direct cable connection ads shows a cheetah running across and encourages people to watch wild life shows on TV.
2) Nimboo pani: Summer is about to set in, and it’s time for the soft drink makers to up the campaigns. But there are visibly three companies pitching for consumers to drink lemon flavored soft drinks. My guess is that lemon drinks don’t enjoy a high market share in India. And with the colas coming under fire every now and then, companies are looking to back themselves up by creating a larger market for nimbu paani. Minute Maid, Nimbuuuz and 7UP Lemon are at it, with the first two showcasing their product as being no different from freshly cut lime mixed in water.
3) AC for India: Keeping with the theme of summer, this is the perfect time for fan and air conditioner companies to get to work. Havells is excited like never before about its fans and safe-switches for hand held air dryers. But what interested me more were the air-conditioners. Amongst others, Samsung, Voltas and Godrej have been repetitively screening their ads with a heavy emphasis on the fact that their ACs are ‘made for India’. The reason ACs haven’t penetrated household markets in India is primarily due to the fear people have of a high electricity bill that might result therefore. So most people who would like to have an AC at home never buy one due to this fear. If you look at these three ads again, it’s not surprising to find that the central idea is that of ACs that consume less power.
4) Mobile phones for rural markets: It was only after reading a story in last month’s edition of Forbes could I understand the cause for the sudden influx of small time mobile phone makers challenging the Nokias, Sonys and Samsungs. Have you ever stopped and wondered the same thing? Until a few months back who had even heard of mobile phones from Micromax, Maxx, Lemon, Lava, Inq, Spice and Videocon? As much as we see mobile communication all around us, a great part of the rural market still remains untouched. The same is true for dual-sim mobiles for urban crowds. My guess is that most of these new players want a share of both these pies. This has really woken up the established players to start looking at their options. Understand the Samsung Guru mobile ad featuring Aamir Khan from this perspective, and it should make sense.
5) Gojiyo.com: A last observation is the launch of Godrej’s virtual reality portal gojiyo.com. The advertisement displays two subtle yet remarkable trends in the economy. Number one, the Indian youth is ready to accept or at least try a hand at virtual reality; something that Second Life despite all its success in the west could not make a dent in the Indian market. A name like Second Life is very niche, compared to a more mass appealing name like gojiyo. The second observation, in my opinion is to be considered with more weight than the first. It basically says that you still need to advertise a website on television. Since the internet penetration in India in still low, companies still need to go to the television crowds to preview a teaser of their websites. This shouldn’t really come as a surprise if you also observed that the number of ads for television sets is noticeably high this IPL.
This article is not an ad feature, and opinions mentioned here are solely mine. Brand names have been taken out of free-will, and I have kept away from providing back-links to any of them.
If you liked this article, you might also want to read this.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Fights Fought: 50. Clash
One of the greatest conspiracies of the 20th century was the creation and the eventual popularity of the World Wrestling Federation, or WWF. Kids that grew up on fresh air and love had their appetites filled with a perennial flow of wrestling shows on cable TV. When WWF first started beaming into Indian homes in the early 90s, it must have been a shocker. Most parents then never really had a hold on the phrase Parental Guidance or PG, and as a 12 year old, you got away watching flicks on Star Movies that were meant for older folks – like 15 and above.
But besides Sachin Tendulkar and Bollywood movies set in Switzerland
We played them all the time. We woke up thinking about Shawn Michaels, went through the day talking about Royal Rumble and Summer Slam, spent the evening looking at Tatanka’s poster, went to bed thinking about Razor Ramon’s numbers and cursing why you didn’t say ‘clash’ earlier. And while asleep we dreamt about Mr. Perfect’s biceps when we didn’t really know what biceps meant. Some part of the body, but who cares?(ad lib. A sentence has been excluded at this point since the pun sounds obnoxiously strong for most of the readers’ liking. But if you don’t mind a dirty joke, write to me. I’ll mail you the line.)
WWF was mostly a show of odd balls. Hulk Hogan (rank 1) was like a professor of mine in college: you could never say how old he was and he never seemed to get older than that. And for some reason, he (not my professor) hardly fought fights and yet managed to retain rank 1 for as long as they printed Trump cards. Rank 2, the legendary Shawn Michaels, many kids claimed was the only wrestler who was trained professionally. The rest were junkies off the streets. The Undertaker was rank 3. As one can expect, anything said of The Undertaker will eventually measure up as undertone. To start with, my Aunt thought he was 100taker. This dude gave cats a run for their money. The guy had more lives than the demographic department could keep a track of. To top that, there was this short, stout ‘soul-keeper’ assistant of his who carried an urn to all the fights, which, as the story goes contained 100taker’s ashes from his previous life. Remember those douche-bag stories? No one could defeat The Undertaker. Not even Ranks 1 and 2. But the hero is never without his nemesis, is he?. For Rank 3 had his spokes loosened whenever he took on Repo Man. Repo Man was this i-got-no-life-so-I’m-here-in-WWF wrestler ranked No. 83. But he did prove to be a handful for The Undertaker. Surprising, you may say. But that was part of the conspiracy.
The ranks went on, and every time a card game came down to the wire, the losing kid started saying ‘clash’ for the most un-clashable things in the hope of salvaging some last bones. That kid eventually lost. It was good fun playing these cards, and following the matches on TV. Especially the part when the gruff voice came which announced “Ladies and Gentlemen, coming in at a magnificent 480 pounds to set the stage on fire, here’s Bam Bam Bigalo.” And the crowds would go into frenzy and hold up placards that said “Bam Bam, my girl loves you more than me.”
The newspapers said some kid nearly killed his younger brother trying to work the choke slam. But here are a couple of things I gleamed from WWF many years later:
- That aspiring to make it to the WWF wasn’t nearly as wise a career choice as engineering.
- That kids who took WWF too seriously could actually end up hurting each other.
- That my Grandpa still remembers British Bulldog was ranked 11.
- That it’s probably not a good idea to refer to The Encyclopedia of names of WWF champs: Past, Present and Future to find a name for your new born. They’ve got pretty cool names like Beefcake Barber, Andre the Giant and Lex Luger “Hands of Steel” in it. I’m not sure if I’d want my kid to be any of those.
For years, everyone stared in awe believing the fight was for real. Then one day, some person sparked off a debate about the sense of showing such violence to young kids. It all went great for a while. And then, we fucked up the end game by calling it Entertainment.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
The daring young man on the flying trapeze
I told Grandpa that I’d be stepping out of the house for ten minutes to grab a copy of the Saturday issue of The Mint yesterday morning. It was 9:20 a.m. Given that the newspaper vendor isn’t too far off from home, I should have expected myself to return home by 9:30 at max. But things turned out a bit different.
I returned at 9:30 p.m instead, and had my folks worried stiff in the meantime. I could have used a mobile phone, but never mind.
I won’t go into the details of why the delay happened, but I will tell you that as I stepped out of the gate, Navneet came and we went to CTR to grab breakfast. Later, we headed off to Palace Grounds to catch the 1 o’clock show of Gemini Circus. The Matinee Show – that’s what it said on the ticket.
The only other time that I probably had such a mixed bag of emotions was when I finished watching Forrest Gump. The other occasion happened yesterday when I walked out of that tent before the show ended. You’ve probably been to a circus before. It was certainly my first time yesterday. The trapeze artists started off the show, and were quite an amazing bunch of artists; reminded me of Popeye’s tune “The daring young man on the flying trapeze”. The crowd was mostly school children in their Saturday uniforms led by the teachers, some with whistles. There were the moms and dads scattered in some seats feeding their tots curd rice out of a tiffin box. Most of these kids wanted popcorn and cotton candy anyways.
Without boring you about the string of performers and what they were up to, I’ll get down to what I really felt strongly about. It was the clowns. There was this brief 10 minutes in the 2 and half hour show where this big clown and this other midget clown had a dual act. Here I was, 23 years old, and not finding any of the clowns’ jokes funny. Two rows behind me were some 60 odd seven and eight year olds that were ROFLTAO (…Their Arses Off). How come the two of us were so far apart on the same thing? Many years back, I would have most certainly ROFLMAO at the clowns’ slapstick humor. But not today. I’ve watched way too many sitcoms and comedy flicks, and mastered complex sarcasm so well, that now; a simple and straightforward joke made by a clown that a child can get seems to shoot off tangentially to my thick skull. I was per-occupied in analyzing the costume of the jokers, and how it could have been done better.
As we stepped out of the tent, we saw the 4 elephants and 2 camels that were part of the show chained to nearby posts. Not too far from them was a traffic cop conversing with the organizers of the circus. Navneet still believes that the cop was there to write out a No Parking ticket for the misplaced elephants and camels. I think he was trying to get his way in without having to pay for the ticket. You know how these cops can be, right?
I returned at 9:30 p.m instead, and had my folks worried stiff in the meantime. I could have used a mobile phone, but never mind.
I won’t go into the details of why the delay happened, but I will tell you that as I stepped out of the gate, Navneet came and we went to CTR to grab breakfast. Later, we headed off to Palace Grounds to catch the 1 o’clock show of Gemini Circus. The Matinee Show – that’s what it said on the ticket.
The only other time that I probably had such a mixed bag of emotions was when I finished watching Forrest Gump. The other occasion happened yesterday when I walked out of that tent before the show ended. You’ve probably been to a circus before. It was certainly my first time yesterday. The trapeze artists started off the show, and were quite an amazing bunch of artists; reminded me of Popeye’s tune “The daring young man on the flying trapeze”. The crowd was mostly school children in their Saturday uniforms led by the teachers, some with whistles. There were the moms and dads scattered in some seats feeding their tots curd rice out of a tiffin box. Most of these kids wanted popcorn and cotton candy anyways.
Without boring you about the string of performers and what they were up to, I’ll get down to what I really felt strongly about. It was the clowns. There was this brief 10 minutes in the 2 and half hour show where this big clown and this other midget clown had a dual act. Here I was, 23 years old, and not finding any of the clowns’ jokes funny. Two rows behind me were some 60 odd seven and eight year olds that were ROFLTAO (…Their Arses Off). How come the two of us were so far apart on the same thing? Many years back, I would have most certainly ROFLMAO at the clowns’ slapstick humor. But not today. I’ve watched way too many sitcoms and comedy flicks, and mastered complex sarcasm so well, that now; a simple and straightforward joke made by a clown that a child can get seems to shoot off tangentially to my thick skull. I was per-occupied in analyzing the costume of the jokers, and how it could have been done better.
As we stepped out of the tent, we saw the 4 elephants and 2 camels that were part of the show chained to nearby posts. Not too far from them was a traffic cop conversing with the organizers of the circus. Navneet still believes that the cop was there to write out a No Parking ticket for the misplaced elephants and camels. I think he was trying to get his way in without having to pay for the ticket. You know how these cops can be, right?
Friday, March 6, 2009
Onde usiranthe innu naanu
I’ve been listening to this song at least ten times a day since Thursday.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-f2mRaBRl54
It’s from a Kannada movie called Snehaloka (Universe of Love), starring RamKumar and Anu Prabhakar. For those who don’t understand the language, let me add here that this is a love song (like duh!, who else dances in a forest for no reason?).
My van driver played this song each morning while going to school and I remember enjoying it, humming along from day 4. I was in class 8 then and I didn’t know the name of the song or the movie that it was a part of. And after I stopped going in my Van Driver’s van (no, he wasn’t Dutch), the tune continued to play in my head. It was one of those songs: you know its tune and nothing else. No lyrics, no artist, no movie, no album name. You love the tune and hope that someday someway you’ll get to hear it again.
Yep, this is that song.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-f2mRaBRl54
It’s from a Kannada movie called Snehaloka (Universe of Love), starring RamKumar and Anu Prabhakar. For those who don’t understand the language, let me add here that this is a love song (like duh!, who else dances in a forest for no reason?).
My van driver played this song each morning while going to school and I remember enjoying it, humming along from day 4. I was in class 8 then and I didn’t know the name of the song or the movie that it was a part of. And after I stopped going in my Van Driver’s van (no, he wasn’t Dutch), the tune continued to play in my head. It was one of those songs: you know its tune and nothing else. No lyrics, no artist, no movie, no album name. You love the tune and hope that someday someway you’ll get to hear it again.
Yep, this is that song.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
My Grandma and Batman
I was at my cousin's school last evening to pick her up. Deepika studies in class 5 at Poorna Pragnya Education Center (P.P.E.C, often referred to as Poori Palya Eating Centre by rival school goers!). As she came out of the school gate and we made our way home, I got remembering of my school days in the early and mid 90's. And especially since I caught up with The Dark Knight later that evening, I couldn't help but thinking of the early days of the Caped Crusader as well.
I dedicate this post, firstly to my Grandma; the most light hearted soul on this side of the earth and to her noble idea that incomes must not be taxed. She was educated up to class 3. I think she would have done well in the finance ministry.
Secondly, to all those who went to school in the 90's; especially the twenty year olds. This text is intended to take you down memory lane.
And thirdly, to Star Plus who made living for school kids worthwhile between 4:30 pm and 6 pm on weekdays in the last decade of the twentieth century.
Narse Gowda would pull up the auto in front of no. 6 'B' street Sirur Park Road Sheshadripuram at 330 every evening. After ensuring that the shoes and socks were carelessly thrown in the corner, and some grub, a round of cricket would follow in the 10 ft by 15 ft area compound. Yes, one of those places where the minimum score always ran into 3 digits. But all action would seize at 2 minutes to 430 only to be resumed later.
My grandma would fix a huge glass of Bournvita and I would turn on Star Plus for the first show of the evening – Small Wonder. She would sit and watch the show along with me even when she didn't understand a word of what was being said. I translated the dialogues for her; even to this day I can vividly remember “Vicky” the Robot, Jamie, the Dawsons and Harriet. Close your eyes and I'm sure you'll hear a soft voice in your head singing the jingle “She's a small wonder!”
By now, with the chocolate milk in my glass missing, we would move on to slot 2 of the evening – Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. The four heroes – Raphaelo, Donotello, Michaellangelo and Leonardo and their Rat Master (I can't remember his name). Boy! Were they good! Close your eyes again and your sure to hear the jingle of the intro song. I really can't remember many of the plots from the series, but it did leave a mark that I remember the show to this day.
Show no. 3 for the evening was Batman. But this wasn't starring Christian Bale. This was the Batman with Robin (before the days when the word 'gay' was thrown around). This was the Batman that drove the Bat mobile through the bushes that concealed his hideout. All the fight sequences were punctuated with Biffs!, Pows! And Bams!Kapaow!. Batman carried everything he ever needed in his belt. Bruce Vain lived in a Victorian style Mansion above the hideout, not in a plush penthouse like billionaire head of the Wayne empire. That is where the library stack gave way to reveal the 2 pillars that Batman and Robin slid down to their den. The Mayor of Gotham City pressed the black button on the Red Telephone to call for the Superhero and the candy like Boy-wonder. The series where the villains' sidekicks could be replaced by a stack of cards very simply because the odds were always stacked against them. Every alternate episode ended with the good guys being trapped and battling for life and a closing message would flash: “Can Batman survive the horrible trap of the Joker? Can the Joker have the last laugh? Stay tuned.” No points for guessing who had the last laugh the next day.
It was serious affair for a 10 year old back then. I would watch the series like there was no tomorrow. My Grandma would suspend all her household chores to watch Batman. And she would follow the tale with translation from her grandson. That was the age of simplicity. Now, in a multiplex, the Dark Knight is shown in dark light. He loses several battles with the Joker, before getting the better of him. He still womanizes though, and his gadgets have gotten cooler. The plot is complex, the sounds are louder and you'll have to make prior reservations to get a seat in the hall. It's no longer fun viewing for a class 5 kid and his grandma. I doubt if I'll be able to explain even 10 % of the movie to her, and that provided she agrees to come and watch the show in a multiplex hall for the first time ever in her life. This is the age of pseudo simplicity.
I dedicate this post, firstly to my Grandma; the most light hearted soul on this side of the earth and to her noble idea that incomes must not be taxed. She was educated up to class 3. I think she would have done well in the finance ministry.
Secondly, to all those who went to school in the 90's; especially the twenty year olds. This text is intended to take you down memory lane.
And thirdly, to Star Plus who made living for school kids worthwhile between 4:30 pm and 6 pm on weekdays in the last decade of the twentieth century.
Narse Gowda would pull up the auto in front of no. 6 'B' street Sirur Park Road Sheshadripuram at 330 every evening. After ensuring that the shoes and socks were carelessly thrown in the corner, and some grub, a round of cricket would follow in the 10 ft by 15 ft area compound. Yes, one of those places where the minimum score always ran into 3 digits. But all action would seize at 2 minutes to 430 only to be resumed later.
My grandma would fix a huge glass of Bournvita and I would turn on Star Plus for the first show of the evening – Small Wonder. She would sit and watch the show along with me even when she didn't understand a word of what was being said. I translated the dialogues for her; even to this day I can vividly remember “Vicky” the Robot, Jamie, the Dawsons and Harriet. Close your eyes and I'm sure you'll hear a soft voice in your head singing the jingle “She's a small wonder!”
By now, with the chocolate milk in my glass missing, we would move on to slot 2 of the evening – Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. The four heroes – Raphaelo, Donotello, Michaellangelo and Leonardo and their Rat Master (I can't remember his name). Boy! Were they good! Close your eyes again and your sure to hear the jingle of the intro song. I really can't remember many of the plots from the series, but it did leave a mark that I remember the show to this day.
Show no. 3 for the evening was Batman. But this wasn't starring Christian Bale. This was the Batman with Robin (before the days when the word 'gay' was thrown around). This was the Batman that drove the Bat mobile through the bushes that concealed his hideout. All the fight sequences were punctuated with Biffs!, Pows! And Bams!Kapaow!. Batman carried everything he ever needed in his belt. Bruce Vain lived in a Victorian style Mansion above the hideout, not in a plush penthouse like billionaire head of the Wayne empire. That is where the library stack gave way to reveal the 2 pillars that Batman and Robin slid down to their den. The Mayor of Gotham City pressed the black button on the Red Telephone to call for the Superhero and the candy like Boy-wonder. The series where the villains' sidekicks could be replaced by a stack of cards very simply because the odds were always stacked against them. Every alternate episode ended with the good guys being trapped and battling for life and a closing message would flash: “Can Batman survive the horrible trap of the Joker? Can the Joker have the last laugh? Stay tuned.” No points for guessing who had the last laugh the next day.
It was serious affair for a 10 year old back then. I would watch the series like there was no tomorrow. My Grandma would suspend all her household chores to watch Batman. And she would follow the tale with translation from her grandson. That was the age of simplicity. Now, in a multiplex, the Dark Knight is shown in dark light. He loses several battles with the Joker, before getting the better of him. He still womanizes though, and his gadgets have gotten cooler. The plot is complex, the sounds are louder and you'll have to make prior reservations to get a seat in the hall. It's no longer fun viewing for a class 5 kid and his grandma. I doubt if I'll be able to explain even 10 % of the movie to her, and that provided she agrees to come and watch the show in a multiplex hall for the first time ever in her life. This is the age of pseudo simplicity.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
An !dea can change your day
It's purely coincidental that Sagar (I prefer referring to him as Psygrr.. the psychotic tigrrr.. lol!) features in this post too.
Minutes
9:30 a.m: We are in the Dynamics of Machinery class- Nagraj's lecture :-). We've been mass bunking classes for the last 3 days in a row. And he's mighty pissed at that.
9:32 a.m: Two minutes after Nagraj's frowning entry into the class, Psygrr's phone rings. The Sweet Child o mine ringtone can be heard from a kilometre. And the 1100 is stuck deep in our man's tight pants; pants that can put Enrique Iglesias to shame. The seconds that follow are nervous. The whole class keeps silent. All eyes are on Psygrr, including Nagraj's. Everyone's watching as Psygrr wrestles his pant pockets to free the phone and turn it off. This is not exactly music to the ears. It is torture to the eyes. Everyone knows that someone can help Psygrr; but no one knows how to. And then the white candy bar pops out. His nervous fingers nimbly shuts out the ringing. He must have felt like a kid in diaper put on a dark stage, and suddenly the spotlight is turned on this little kid and a thousand people in the audience are awestruck.Applause.
9:32:05 a.m: Nagraj is quick to jump in and diffuse this awkward situation. He chooses to send Psygrr and his phone out of the class. Seriously, what is it with this guy getting thrown out every now and then, I wonder?
1: 18 p.m: At the mess table, I ask him cheekily- "So who called at that time?", though my question could have very well been phrased - "Was it your next girlfriend who called then?" But I thought that would be insensitive.
" Cut it called, da. Pain in the ass.", he replies.
"Oh! you mean chuck it called. " I say, laughing my ass off.
Cut it
For the uninformed, here's a brief description of cut it :
Also called chuck it, it is the phone call that one gets from an unknown number. When the call is answered and the receiver says hello!, he's greeted on the other end by a pre-recorded voice(asl: 22, F, who cares) that lacks the basic courtesy of responding to the greeting. She (or it?) yaks on for the next couple of minutes about everything from the latest Bollywood music downloads to mobile dating. The calls from this number are almost always made when the subscriber is in a board meeting/ at a class/driving/ in the bath tub/ making love/about to bungee.
Psygrrr is to be thanked. He observed that these calls were made from one or two numbers consistently. These numbers never changed. So the numbers were saved in his contacts as cut it (and in mine as chuck it). The days of answering these calls and feeling pissed/stupid are over for us. As a matter of fact, these calls are welcome more than ever. Every time cut it calls, the very sight of 'cut it calling' can send you into peels of laughter. Or it could be a source of entertainment for you (thanks to The Rat). Here's how:
STEP 1: cut it calling.
STEP 2: laugh like crazy looking at the cellphone.
STEP 3: phone continues ringing.
STEP 4: gather people around you and make them stand in a circle.
STEP 5: hold out the phone such that everyone standing in the circle can see it.
STEP 6: hit on 'answer' (put on the loudspeaker, if the facility is available).
STEP 7: in unision, shout - "FUCK YOU!", at the phone.
STEP 8: cut the call.
STEP 9:another round of laughter.
STEP 10: wait for 'cut it' to call again.
There you go - 10 easy steps to turn an annoyingly pesky phone call into an entertaining mid-day activity for you and your friends. Go try it. And let me know how well it worked.
Minutes
9:30 a.m: We are in the Dynamics of Machinery class- Nagraj's lecture :-). We've been mass bunking classes for the last 3 days in a row. And he's mighty pissed at that.
9:32 a.m: Two minutes after Nagraj's frowning entry into the class, Psygrr's phone rings. The Sweet Child o mine ringtone can be heard from a kilometre. And the 1100 is stuck deep in our man's tight pants; pants that can put Enrique Iglesias to shame. The seconds that follow are nervous. The whole class keeps silent. All eyes are on Psygrr, including Nagraj's. Everyone's watching as Psygrr wrestles his pant pockets to free the phone and turn it off. This is not exactly music to the ears. It is torture to the eyes. Everyone knows that someone can help Psygrr; but no one knows how to. And then the white candy bar pops out. His nervous fingers nimbly shuts out the ringing. He must have felt like a kid in diaper put on a dark stage, and suddenly the spotlight is turned on this little kid and a thousand people in the audience are awestruck.Applause.
9:32:05 a.m: Nagraj is quick to jump in and diffuse this awkward situation. He chooses to send Psygrr and his phone out of the class. Seriously, what is it with this guy getting thrown out every now and then, I wonder?
1: 18 p.m: At the mess table, I ask him cheekily- "So who called at that time?", though my question could have very well been phrased - "Was it your next girlfriend who called then?" But I thought that would be insensitive.
" Cut it called, da. Pain in the ass.", he replies.
"Oh! you mean chuck it called. " I say, laughing my ass off.
Cut it
For the uninformed, here's a brief description of cut it :
Also called chuck it, it is the phone call that one gets from an unknown number. When the call is answered and the receiver says hello!, he's greeted on the other end by a pre-recorded voice(asl: 22, F, who cares) that lacks the basic courtesy of responding to the greeting. She (or it?) yaks on for the next couple of minutes about everything from the latest Bollywood music downloads to mobile dating. The calls from this number are almost always made when the subscriber is in a board meeting/ at a class/driving/ in the bath tub/ making love/about to bungee.
Psygrrr is to be thanked. He observed that these calls were made from one or two numbers consistently. These numbers never changed. So the numbers were saved in his contacts as cut it (and in mine as chuck it). The days of answering these calls and feeling pissed/stupid are over for us. As a matter of fact, these calls are welcome more than ever. Every time cut it calls, the very sight of 'cut it calling' can send you into peels of laughter. Or it could be a source of entertainment for you (thanks to The Rat). Here's how:
STEP 1: cut it calling.
STEP 2: laugh like crazy looking at the cellphone.
STEP 3: phone continues ringing.
STEP 4: gather people around you and make them stand in a circle.
STEP 5: hold out the phone such that everyone standing in the circle can see it.
STEP 6: hit on 'answer' (put on the loudspeaker, if the facility is available).
STEP 7: in unision, shout - "FUCK YOU!", at the phone.
STEP 8: cut the call.
STEP 9:another round of laughter.
STEP 10: wait for 'cut it' to call again.
There you go - 10 easy steps to turn an annoyingly pesky phone call into an entertaining mid-day activity for you and your friends. Go try it. And let me know how well it worked.
Saturday, August 4, 2007
Molotov Cocktail
For the folks at Manipal;take it away :-)
“Dude, I swear…if Mexico wins today, I’ll give up Vodka.” I said looking up at BD. The guy was hardly listening.
“Fuck you. You’ve been saying that from Kindergarten, arseole.” Lodde shot at me.
“No man. This time, I’m serious. It’s like this umbilical chord that runs through me, Argentina and Vodka. If ‘Tina loses, we all 3 fall.” Evidently, I had been drinking too much.
“Make a cocktail for me, bro.” I asked to no one in particular.
“Yeah, right! How about I make you a Molotov Cocktail to bring you back to your senses?” BD took a good attempt at humour.
“Hey, what’s in a Molotov Cocktail?” I asked very innocently.
“Oh! That would be a mix of, let’s see… 25% beer, 3% milk, and 65% Cerelac and 7% of your intestines.” BD gave an ‘answer’.
“Are you, serious?” now I was playing his game.
“Of course not, you idiot! It’s a home made explosive used to start arson.” Lodde’s IQ ran into the 4 digits when he was not in his senses. But on the flip side, I was too scared to ask what ‘arson’ meant.
It was Tony’s idea to go watch the FIFA World Cup Quarter Finals at his Uncle’s estate house. 6 guys, Kingfisher, football and Vodka are always a package deal: like the 4 legs of a tripod. 23 minutes after kick-off, it was still 0-0. Obviously, the TV was getting out of focus with every passing minute. I looked around for some smokes. Hell, all the packets were empty. Wasn’t that bastard Bogu told to get 6 packs?
I looked around. BD was staring at the fan and smiling at it. In that corner of the mind reserved for girl friends, he was probably making out with her in the loo at Barista.
“Oye, what’s so funny with the fan?” Pavan asked BD.
“I love her man…I fuckin’ love her.” BD looked down and nodded.
“Man, you know this girl for like 2 weeks. You’ve already become her dedicated doormat. I mean she’s walking all over you. And now, you love her? You obviously need more pot to smoke this shit out of your rear.” Pavan said. Lodde was rolling on the floor on hearing this. Pavan continued-“Look at Lodde’s shirt for that matter. What does it say,huh? LOVE-Loss Of Virginity Early in life. Don’t you ever learn anything, man?”
It was all getting too boring for me. I had heard this girlfriend bashing before. And frankly, it sucked. I looked at the TV for some time. The half was almost over.
“Bh-o-ys. Three minutes to go for the half to end. And guess what’s official? I need a Navy Cut RIGHT NOW.” Pavan stood up and made the announcement.
“Your freaking nuts. It’s 1:15 in the morning. The nearest shop is 3 kms away.” Tony screamed back at Pavan.
“I give a shit. I’ll take my bike and go. Wanna come, anyone?”
Since no one seemed too inclined to go, I volunteered.
5 minutes later, we were riding on the kuccha road on a Black Pulsar. As the mud tracks met the tar, I asked Pavan-“Hey, do you think there might be cops on the road?”
“Bollocks. They must be too bombed to be at work now. No worries bro.” Pavan said reassuringly.
At a distance on the road we could vaguely spot a Jeep. It was the cops.
“Man, what if they catch us? Fuck, we even left the bike documents in the house and came. And we are drunk and driving. Shit” I was praying.
And sure enough, they stopped us. One of the constables asked us to pull the bike over to the side of the footpath. The other went inside the jeep, pulled out a walkie-talkie and started mumbling into it. I could see Pavan was feeling nervous here.
“Sir, we have caught them.” The constable was saying into the walkie-talkie. “The bike is also there.”
“What bike? And caught us for what?” I said to Pavan. He knew as much as I. The other constable was looking away from us. Pavan immediately took out his mobile and dialled Lodde’s number.
“Lodde, listen. Cops have caught us. The bike documents are on the fridge. Get them and reach near the Temple Arch soon. Or else we guys are screwed.” Pavan whispered hurriedly.
The constable stood there looking at us. We were too nervous to go up to him and open our alcohol-laden mouths. Nor did he say a word to us. 5 minutes went too slow. Finally, we could see the head light of Bogu’s Black Pulsar. I heaved a sigh of relief. At least the documents had come now. Bogu and Lodde stooped their bike right in front of us, took out the documents from the cover and gave it to Pavan.
Suddenly, the constable who had been on the walkie-talkie walked up to us and produced two handcuffs. And all 4 of us were rounded up.
On the way to the Police Station, sitting at the back of the jeep, I looked at Lodde’s face. He was puzzled way beyond human reason. All they had done was come to the rescue of their friends with some stupid bike documents. And now, all 4 of us were riding to jail. What the hell was going on? The constables wouldn’t answer. The mute dummies just drove.
“Sir, we caught these 4 guys with 2 black Pulsars. It’s definitely somebody amongst them”, the constable told the inspector as he lined us up.
“Tell me who did it and I’ll be nice to you. Mess around with me and you’ll become dog food. Bastards, tell me who did it?” the Inspector thundered at us.
We kept our heads down without understanding what was going on, but knowing for sure that trouble was just around the corner. It seemed like 4 different thieves had broken into a house at the same time.
Mustering all energy I could I looked up at the Inspector and said-“Sir, there’s been a mistake. We haven’t done anything. We are software engineers working at IT Park. We have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Shut up, Son-of-a-bang. Tell me which of you two raped the girl?” the Inspector screamed again.
WHAT?! It was getting crazy. “Sir, we have no idea what you want from us. We don’t know of any rape. We can show our ID cards. There’s obviously been a mistake.” Lodde was pleading.
After some persuasion, he saw light. Pavan called on Tony to get the ID Cards from the estate house.
15 minutes later, a confused Tony walked into the Police station with the ID Cards. We were released from the whole mess. The Inspector apologized to us and explained the whole confusion: earlier that evening, a girl had been raped near the place where we were caught. Eyewitnesses had seen 2 boys speed away on a black Pulsar. Unfortunately, we were also 2 boys on a black Pulsar twice over.
As we were walking away from the craziest experience of our lives towards our bikes, I looked at Pavan and said-“Isn’t it funny? We got caught and had no documents. Then they could have booked us for drunken driving, in which case you would have lost your license. Shit, what a close shave that was!”
Pavan smiled back at me and said, “Do you want to know what a closer shave is?” He took out a packet of grass from his back pocket. My tongue almost fell out.
(appeared in Srijan 2006, the annual magazine of NIT-H)
“Dude, I swear…if Mexico wins today, I’ll give up Vodka.” I said looking up at BD. The guy was hardly listening.
“Fuck you. You’ve been saying that from Kindergarten, arseole.” Lodde shot at me.
“No man. This time, I’m serious. It’s like this umbilical chord that runs through me, Argentina and Vodka. If ‘Tina loses, we all 3 fall.” Evidently, I had been drinking too much.
“Make a cocktail for me, bro.” I asked to no one in particular.
“Yeah, right! How about I make you a Molotov Cocktail to bring you back to your senses?” BD took a good attempt at humour.
“Hey, what’s in a Molotov Cocktail?” I asked very innocently.
“Oh! That would be a mix of, let’s see… 25% beer, 3% milk, and 65% Cerelac and 7% of your intestines.” BD gave an ‘answer’.
“Are you, serious?” now I was playing his game.
“Of course not, you idiot! It’s a home made explosive used to start arson.” Lodde’s IQ ran into the 4 digits when he was not in his senses. But on the flip side, I was too scared to ask what ‘arson’ meant.
It was Tony’s idea to go watch the FIFA World Cup Quarter Finals at his Uncle’s estate house. 6 guys, Kingfisher, football and Vodka are always a package deal: like the 4 legs of a tripod. 23 minutes after kick-off, it was still 0-0. Obviously, the TV was getting out of focus with every passing minute. I looked around for some smokes. Hell, all the packets were empty. Wasn’t that bastard Bogu told to get 6 packs?
I looked around. BD was staring at the fan and smiling at it. In that corner of the mind reserved for girl friends, he was probably making out with her in the loo at Barista.
“Oye, what’s so funny with the fan?” Pavan asked BD.
“I love her man…I fuckin’ love her.” BD looked down and nodded.
“Man, you know this girl for like 2 weeks. You’ve already become her dedicated doormat. I mean she’s walking all over you. And now, you love her? You obviously need more pot to smoke this shit out of your rear.” Pavan said. Lodde was rolling on the floor on hearing this. Pavan continued-“Look at Lodde’s shirt for that matter. What does it say,huh? LOVE-Loss Of Virginity Early in life. Don’t you ever learn anything, man?”
It was all getting too boring for me. I had heard this girlfriend bashing before. And frankly, it sucked. I looked at the TV for some time. The half was almost over.
“Bh-o-ys. Three minutes to go for the half to end. And guess what’s official? I need a Navy Cut RIGHT NOW.” Pavan stood up and made the announcement.
“Your freaking nuts. It’s 1:15 in the morning. The nearest shop is 3 kms away.” Tony screamed back at Pavan.
“I give a shit. I’ll take my bike and go. Wanna come, anyone?”
Since no one seemed too inclined to go, I volunteered.
5 minutes later, we were riding on the kuccha road on a Black Pulsar. As the mud tracks met the tar, I asked Pavan-“Hey, do you think there might be cops on the road?”
“Bollocks. They must be too bombed to be at work now. No worries bro.” Pavan said reassuringly.
At a distance on the road we could vaguely spot a Jeep. It was the cops.
“Man, what if they catch us? Fuck, we even left the bike documents in the house and came. And we are drunk and driving. Shit” I was praying.
And sure enough, they stopped us. One of the constables asked us to pull the bike over to the side of the footpath. The other went inside the jeep, pulled out a walkie-talkie and started mumbling into it. I could see Pavan was feeling nervous here.
“Sir, we have caught them.” The constable was saying into the walkie-talkie. “The bike is also there.”
“What bike? And caught us for what?” I said to Pavan. He knew as much as I. The other constable was looking away from us. Pavan immediately took out his mobile and dialled Lodde’s number.
“Lodde, listen. Cops have caught us. The bike documents are on the fridge. Get them and reach near the Temple Arch soon. Or else we guys are screwed.” Pavan whispered hurriedly.
The constable stood there looking at us. We were too nervous to go up to him and open our alcohol-laden mouths. Nor did he say a word to us. 5 minutes went too slow. Finally, we could see the head light of Bogu’s Black Pulsar. I heaved a sigh of relief. At least the documents had come now. Bogu and Lodde stooped their bike right in front of us, took out the documents from the cover and gave it to Pavan.
Suddenly, the constable who had been on the walkie-talkie walked up to us and produced two handcuffs. And all 4 of us were rounded up.
On the way to the Police Station, sitting at the back of the jeep, I looked at Lodde’s face. He was puzzled way beyond human reason. All they had done was come to the rescue of their friends with some stupid bike documents. And now, all 4 of us were riding to jail. What the hell was going on? The constables wouldn’t answer. The mute dummies just drove.
“Sir, we caught these 4 guys with 2 black Pulsars. It’s definitely somebody amongst them”, the constable told the inspector as he lined us up.
“Tell me who did it and I’ll be nice to you. Mess around with me and you’ll become dog food. Bastards, tell me who did it?” the Inspector thundered at us.
We kept our heads down without understanding what was going on, but knowing for sure that trouble was just around the corner. It seemed like 4 different thieves had broken into a house at the same time.
Mustering all energy I could I looked up at the Inspector and said-“Sir, there’s been a mistake. We haven’t done anything. We are software engineers working at IT Park. We have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Shut up, Son-of-a-bang. Tell me which of you two raped the girl?” the Inspector screamed again.
WHAT?! It was getting crazy. “Sir, we have no idea what you want from us. We don’t know of any rape. We can show our ID cards. There’s obviously been a mistake.” Lodde was pleading.
After some persuasion, he saw light. Pavan called on Tony to get the ID Cards from the estate house.
15 minutes later, a confused Tony walked into the Police station with the ID Cards. We were released from the whole mess. The Inspector apologized to us and explained the whole confusion: earlier that evening, a girl had been raped near the place where we were caught. Eyewitnesses had seen 2 boys speed away on a black Pulsar. Unfortunately, we were also 2 boys on a black Pulsar twice over.
As we were walking away from the craziest experience of our lives towards our bikes, I looked at Pavan and said-“Isn’t it funny? We got caught and had no documents. Then they could have booked us for drunken driving, in which case you would have lost your license. Shit, what a close shave that was!”
Pavan smiled back at me and said, “Do you want to know what a closer shave is?” He took out a packet of grass from his back pocket. My tongue almost fell out.
(appeared in Srijan 2006, the annual magazine of NIT-H)
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