Yes, you read it right. Not only does the Little Master has a competitor, he's certain to lose the bout against it. Yes, you read it right again. It's not 'him', it's 'it'. After all, it's beyond a human being to give the Mumbaikar a run for his money but if it's an entity rather than an individual, it's possible.
Enough of foreplay, let's now solve the mystery. Sachin's competitor in my opinion is the national carrier of India, Indian Airlines (now known as Air India). Why this comparison? Well, because both ST and IA never fail to amaze!
Okay, by now everyone's aware what IA is capable of. They have successfully built the reputation of being the worse airlines in India, right up there with the worse airlines in the entire planet brick by brick. They have mosquitoes on board, they serve the food that even dogs would refuse to eat, the aircrafts look like dilapidated buildings from the inside, their ground staff and cabin crew comprise of incompetent people who are uncharacteristically efficient when it comes to misplacing the luggage of the passengers. Surely, it's quite a task for any airlines to match up to the 'IA standards'. Just when one was almost certain that IA's was the benchmark of how pathetic an airlines could possibly be, they outdid themselves! So very typical of Sachin.
I had a 6:40 am flight (IC 509) from Kochi to Chennai via Bengaluru on October 18, 2010. I arrived at the airport with an hour in hand, the baggage screening took less than a minute and I was in the cue to get the boarding pass. There were about 20 passengers before me in the cue and there was only a second cue in front of the Jet Airways counter early in the morning. No points for guessing which cue was moving faster and at one point in time, I was worried that I would still be standing in the cue when the flight took off! The trick as everyone knows is to get hold of the boarding pass, because once the boarding pass has been issued, the flight can't leave without the passenger. I had another worry. I had a connecting flight to Vizag to catch from Chennai. The Kochi-Bengaluru-Chennai flight was supposed to arrive in Chennai at 9:30 am and the Chennai-Vizag flight was supposed to take off exactly an hour after that. It meant, in case of delay for whatever reasons and with IA it's never a remote possibility, there was a realistic chance of me missing the flight to Vizag. So my idea was to get the Chennai-Vizag boarding pass issued from Kochi.
Finally my turn arrived and my fears came true. The gentleman at the counter told me that the Chennai-Vizag boarding pass would have to be collected from the Chennai airport as there was some internal access problem. Pleading or vague threats wouldn't change a thing, so I had to be happy with the Kochi-Chennai boarding pass and just as I moved away from the counter, I found out that I had a new name, thanks to IA!
Now while I was acutely aware of my geographic whereabouts (I was in south India) and I also knew of the supreme southy pride, this was beyond my imagination. My name on the boarding pass read, 'Raja Rajeswari'! For a moment, I felt like a king but that feeling disappeared in no time and I hurriedly headed back to the counter. By then, my luggage was gone with the name tag saying 'Raja Rajeswari' and as expected, it couldn't be traced. 10 minutes later, I was assured that the problem was solved and when I finally boarded the flight, the watch announced, 6:40 am! The procedure, as explained took unusually long and as there were another 20 odd people behind me in the cue, the flight got delayed by 15 minutes! Thankfully, by some miracle the 'access problem' was solved and I was handed the Chennai-Vizag boarding pass.
Ground staff gone, now was the turn of the cabin crew. Here, the airhostesses of IA call for a halt and special mentioning. Now, everyone knows that IA takes special care in choosing its airhostesses. They have to be 'experienced', that is well over 40, exceptionally ugly and must suffer from mid-age crisis that prevents them from smiling at any given point in time. Such sights early in the morning and the thought of travelling IA for the next 3/4 hours could have a very demoralising effect on an individual but as these things are expected, one is always prepared for such events. Problems surface when the unexpected happens and as far as IA is concerned, they happen always.
I dozed off moments after boarding the flight, only to be woken up by the ugly, disgruntled, never smiling airhostess who in a class-teacherly voice announced, 'Breakfast!' One look at the tray and the appetite was gone. Moreover, there was a sticker saying, 'Veg'. I asked for non-vegetarian food, she presented me with an extremely irritated glance, murmured something which I couldn't figure out and moved on. I'd managed to catch the first few words of what she uttered and they were, 'Non-veg is for....' Now that's IA! One moment, they make you feel like a king, the next moment, they show you your place in the world. It's called 'The Balancing Act' I suppose!
I was so disgusted that I decided not to eat. Not because the food was vegetarian. Vegetarian food could also be delicious for a change, but firstly, the food didn't look tempting at all and secondly, the ugly airhostess had succeeded in ruining my mood completely and irreversibly. I decided to return the food and the airhostess, as required by her employers I guess, outdid herself again! She gave me another irritated glance and shot back, 'Where do I keep it now?' At this point, I gave in. I firmly told her that where she would keep the tray was none of my business and asked her colleague for a response card, available on board. She heard me asking for it and like all her ill-mannered colleagues chose to wear a 'I don't give a damn' look. I duly filled up the form with my flight and personal details, handed it back to her colleague and kept my fingers crossed with the hope that some action would be taken.
At 37, Sachin Tendulkar is going great guns (touchwood). He scored a double-hundred in a limited over international match, went past the three-figure mark for the 95th (!!!!!) time in international cricket and if India hopes to do well in the world cup that gets underway in exactly four months time, then the old but not tired warhorse will have to show them the way. But there will surely be a day, when he would feel the burden of age and the gruelling pressure of playing cricket almost 100 days a year. That will be the end of the road for the cricketing legend. Indian Airlines will live to see that day and continue to outdo themselves.
Sorry ST, you may well be the god of 22 yards but you are no match for IA!
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Quotable Quotes
Before the game, I know them and I love them. After the game, I know them and I love them. For those 90 minutes, I know nobody -- Jose Mourinho on his return to Stamford bridge as Inter Milan's manager.
Anybody who claims to work 16 hours a day is either a slow worker or a liar. -- Dhirubhai Ambani
If you pay evil with good, what do you pay good with? -- Confucius
Anybody who claims to work 16 hours a day is either a slow worker or a liar. -- Dhirubhai Ambani
If you pay evil with good, what do you pay good with? -- Confucius
Monday, July 26, 2010
Strip Clubs of Jo’burg and the Bars of Kolkata
The difference between the strip club in Johannesburg and the bar in Kolkata is that of transparency. While the ‘sleazy’ part is handled with care and passion and yet there is no air of artificiality about it in the former, the latter defines the word.
A strip club! What it means to a pair of Indian ears is sleaze. Deceit and illicit affairs. While in reality it’s different. A strip club is part of mainstream culture and mainstream is the word underlined here. Married couples unwind here, enjoying the music, beat and most importantly, positive energy all around. Married women hold out 100 Rand bills with the help of their lips for the dancers sans a single piece of cloth and their husbands seem to genuinely appreciate the gesture. Not like the 100 Rupee bills in Kolkata, the whereabouts of which are completely unknown to the wives.
Oh yes. More importantly, the strip clubs of Jo’burg don’t play the ‘choicest’ of numbers like the ones played or performed in the bars of Kolkata. Contrary to prevalent concepts, the strip clubs play tracks that are popular and the dancers act them out. They perform to the words, calling on the audience to join in the celebration of poetry, music and above all life. All with a delightful mastery called professionalism.
The dancers are friendly and are more than able to differentiate between an authentic compliment and a comment adulterated with sexual connotations.
I guess it’s a proven fact that women of the world form the smartest lot in the planet and one doesn’t really have to be a dancer to master the art.
The DJ is groovy, funny and always on the ball. He calls it a day and only he can take the call with witty statements with an air of finality about them. ‘Lovely ladies and gentlemen, the club is closed. Please go home and make lovely kids.’ This is usually after 4 o’ clock, after at least 5 hours of serious partying.
It is of course a sex shop where one can buy half-an-hour pleasure for 200 Rands. And there is no facade. It’s run openly and professionally. The word T-R-A-N-S-P-A-R-E-N-C-Y is written in bold letters all over it.
On the other hand, the bars of Kolkata don’t indulge in ‘unlawful activities’. They serve alcohol till the time the government allows and employ ugly singers to entertain the clients. The women are usually overweight, loud, look a little smarter than domestic helps and can’t say ‘do’ from ‘me’. Nobody in his right mind can think of such an existence outside the four walls of a Kolkata bar, dimly lit, inviting you to someone’s idea of ‘the other world’, created with all that stand no possibility of existing in the real world of a sane man. A couple of drinks and the atmosphere assures to do the rest. While a strip club in Jo’burg can make you drink and forget about the last beer.
Nobody in his right mind can get an erection looking at those horribly ugly women of the Kolkata bars.
Yet there’s an air of secrecy about the Kolkata bars. The waiters move about with an attitude. Something that tells you, they are associated with something ‘important’. To take care of others’ illicit pleasures. Something that their parents couldn’t even dream for them. While the waiter in a Jo’burg strip club reminds you all the time with utmost humility that his is the most boring job and he wants to be the most unassuming character around. He has no other motto in life other than serving you alcohol.
When will we grow up? When will we be free enough to be ourselves?
A strip club! What it means to a pair of Indian ears is sleaze. Deceit and illicit affairs. While in reality it’s different. A strip club is part of mainstream culture and mainstream is the word underlined here. Married couples unwind here, enjoying the music, beat and most importantly, positive energy all around. Married women hold out 100 Rand bills with the help of their lips for the dancers sans a single piece of cloth and their husbands seem to genuinely appreciate the gesture. Not like the 100 Rupee bills in Kolkata, the whereabouts of which are completely unknown to the wives.
Oh yes. More importantly, the strip clubs of Jo’burg don’t play the ‘choicest’ of numbers like the ones played or performed in the bars of Kolkata. Contrary to prevalent concepts, the strip clubs play tracks that are popular and the dancers act them out. They perform to the words, calling on the audience to join in the celebration of poetry, music and above all life. All with a delightful mastery called professionalism.
The dancers are friendly and are more than able to differentiate between an authentic compliment and a comment adulterated with sexual connotations.
I guess it’s a proven fact that women of the world form the smartest lot in the planet and one doesn’t really have to be a dancer to master the art.
The DJ is groovy, funny and always on the ball. He calls it a day and only he can take the call with witty statements with an air of finality about them. ‘Lovely ladies and gentlemen, the club is closed. Please go home and make lovely kids.’ This is usually after 4 o’ clock, after at least 5 hours of serious partying.
It is of course a sex shop where one can buy half-an-hour pleasure for 200 Rands. And there is no facade. It’s run openly and professionally. The word T-R-A-N-S-P-A-R-E-N-C-Y is written in bold letters all over it.
On the other hand, the bars of Kolkata don’t indulge in ‘unlawful activities’. They serve alcohol till the time the government allows and employ ugly singers to entertain the clients. The women are usually overweight, loud, look a little smarter than domestic helps and can’t say ‘do’ from ‘me’. Nobody in his right mind can think of such an existence outside the four walls of a Kolkata bar, dimly lit, inviting you to someone’s idea of ‘the other world’, created with all that stand no possibility of existing in the real world of a sane man. A couple of drinks and the atmosphere assures to do the rest. While a strip club in Jo’burg can make you drink and forget about the last beer.
Nobody in his right mind can get an erection looking at those horribly ugly women of the Kolkata bars.
Yet there’s an air of secrecy about the Kolkata bars. The waiters move about with an attitude. Something that tells you, they are associated with something ‘important’. To take care of others’ illicit pleasures. Something that their parents couldn’t even dream for them. While the waiter in a Jo’burg strip club reminds you all the time with utmost humility that his is the most boring job and he wants to be the most unassuming character around. He has no other motto in life other than serving you alcohol.
When will we grow up? When will we be free enough to be ourselves?
Friday, January 1, 2010
Film Reviews: How Reliable are They?
Movie reviews became interesting once I discovered Khalid Mohammad’s style of writing. It took me less than three weeks to find out that Mohammad was an amazing writer and three months to figure out that he knew jackshit of movies.
I don't remember a single flick that wasn't criticised by Mohammad and when he directed his first movie, I obviously thought it would be one of the most out-of-the-world experiences. Hindi movies coming of age and stuff. Fiza, Mohammad's first film and a Karishma Kapoor starrer turned out to be really depressing. Imagine Karishma Kapoor and still a dud!
Mohammad's credibility diminished in my eyes. I would still read a moview review, written by him. I would still appreciate his style of writing but won't take a call on the movie.
The problem with Mohammad or conversely, us readers is that we pay at least a little bit of heed to the subject-matter of a non-fiction article, a movie review in this case. But for someone like Mohammad, it's all about style. He is a brilliant juggler of words, but of no use to those, who are looking for reliable information. If I remember correctly, Mohammad didn't have very kind words for Dil Chahta Hai and I don't remember the reasons behind it. As in, I am not trying to hint at something going wrong between Mohammad or Times of India (his reviews were published in TOI those days) and the makers of DCH. I meant the reasons (if any) why DCH was not a decent watch, put forward by Mohammad in the review.
Recently I saw two movies and subsequently, read the reviews. It made me wonder how reliable these reviews were. Rocket Singh, salesman of the year, reviewed by Taran adarsh and 3 idiots, reviewed by Raja Sen. Both the critics seemed convinced that these movies didn’t have much to offer to the audience. I, on the other hand thought, they were amazing and poignant.
First things first. What do we expect from a film review? An honest, personal opinion that’s substantiated by sound logic as regards whether the critic liked the flick or not and why or a lame guess at the box office returns of the film?
Now, I believe that no sane person would have suggested that Gadar was a decent watch in the 21st Century but it still did amazingly well. So, we know it for a fact that a critic can’t predict the box office returns of a particular movie and we don’t expect a prediction. We expect an opinion.
This is where the critics fail. Sen must be feeling like a stupidass or a little more pompous as quite opposite to his predictions, idiots have broken all records in less than 5 days after he predicted it to be a dud. Rocket Singh, I believe hasn’t done well but at the same time I’m quite sure that the urban audience would love it. Adarsh thought that they would hate it as there wasn’t even a single song. I don’t know why. I think only country bumpkins expect songs to make a movie seem worth a watch and I didn’t expect Adarsh to be one.
As for Rocket Singh, I thought it was an amazing movie. It was different (and I mean it) and it announced the arrival of one of the most natural actors in the country today who has successfully taken the myth that good looking guys are worthless by its horn. Ranbir Kapoor portrayed the role of a quintessential Sardar with panache and made it evident that Saif Ali Khan or Akshay Kumar or Sunny Deol wearing a turban looked anything but a Sardar. The film had an amazing supporting cast and an outta-the-world story. It dealt with ambitions and yet didn’t go overboard even once.
No one knows which flick would do well and why. The least the critics could do is understand their locus standi. It’s that of a sensible viewer who can write. Nothing more, nothing less.
I don't remember a single flick that wasn't criticised by Mohammad and when he directed his first movie, I obviously thought it would be one of the most out-of-the-world experiences. Hindi movies coming of age and stuff. Fiza, Mohammad's first film and a Karishma Kapoor starrer turned out to be really depressing. Imagine Karishma Kapoor and still a dud!
Mohammad's credibility diminished in my eyes. I would still read a moview review, written by him. I would still appreciate his style of writing but won't take a call on the movie.
The problem with Mohammad or conversely, us readers is that we pay at least a little bit of heed to the subject-matter of a non-fiction article, a movie review in this case. But for someone like Mohammad, it's all about style. He is a brilliant juggler of words, but of no use to those, who are looking for reliable information. If I remember correctly, Mohammad didn't have very kind words for Dil Chahta Hai and I don't remember the reasons behind it. As in, I am not trying to hint at something going wrong between Mohammad or Times of India (his reviews were published in TOI those days) and the makers of DCH. I meant the reasons (if any) why DCH was not a decent watch, put forward by Mohammad in the review.
Recently I saw two movies and subsequently, read the reviews. It made me wonder how reliable these reviews were. Rocket Singh, salesman of the year, reviewed by Taran adarsh and 3 idiots, reviewed by Raja Sen. Both the critics seemed convinced that these movies didn’t have much to offer to the audience. I, on the other hand thought, they were amazing and poignant.
First things first. What do we expect from a film review? An honest, personal opinion that’s substantiated by sound logic as regards whether the critic liked the flick or not and why or a lame guess at the box office returns of the film?
Now, I believe that no sane person would have suggested that Gadar was a decent watch in the 21st Century but it still did amazingly well. So, we know it for a fact that a critic can’t predict the box office returns of a particular movie and we don’t expect a prediction. We expect an opinion.
This is where the critics fail. Sen must be feeling like a stupidass or a little more pompous as quite opposite to his predictions, idiots have broken all records in less than 5 days after he predicted it to be a dud. Rocket Singh, I believe hasn’t done well but at the same time I’m quite sure that the urban audience would love it. Adarsh thought that they would hate it as there wasn’t even a single song. I don’t know why. I think only country bumpkins expect songs to make a movie seem worth a watch and I didn’t expect Adarsh to be one.
As for Rocket Singh, I thought it was an amazing movie. It was different (and I mean it) and it announced the arrival of one of the most natural actors in the country today who has successfully taken the myth that good looking guys are worthless by its horn. Ranbir Kapoor portrayed the role of a quintessential Sardar with panache and made it evident that Saif Ali Khan or Akshay Kumar or Sunny Deol wearing a turban looked anything but a Sardar. The film had an amazing supporting cast and an outta-the-world story. It dealt with ambitions and yet didn’t go overboard even once.
No one knows which flick would do well and why. The least the critics could do is understand their locus standi. It’s that of a sensible viewer who can write. Nothing more, nothing less.
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