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SRK Bong Bang

This is not my post. It is a translation of a brilliant Bengali post by Tanmay Mukherjee, who decided to give Shah Rukh Khan some advice after the star was roped in by West Bengal's Chief Minister to 'promote' the state.
Essentially, it is a set of ten handy pieces of instruction for SRK. Since the instructions were in Bengali, it is obvious the star hadn't read them and had flouted them even. Therefore, my stilted translation...

*** *** *** *** ***
Shah Rukh-babu,
If you don't want to your brand ambassadorship of Bengal to go the same way as Hindustan Motor's Ambassador, you have to make some personal adjustments. Quickly, take a piece of paper and a pen. Note them down.

1. Learn to pronounce Kolkata. Right here, right now. (Trans: For the greater common good, it is Coal-Kaa-Taa with the T soft.)

2. Knight Riders without Sourav and Bongo without Poshchim is the same thing. If you want to dance the Bengal jig, you need a partner - Dada. Just as you need Thackeray to tango in Mumbai, you need Dada for Eden.

3. Read Lenin. Recite Ma-Maati-Manush. And avoid the stammer, please.

4. Have not seen any press release about your love for mishti doi and roshogolla. Give one, pronto.

5. Please sir, ditch that Korbo-Lorbo song. Its become a national joke.

6. Stop blowing kisses every second minute. We are an intellectual race, not SoBo sweeties.

7. Walk into a couple of appearances in Bengali films. Let our poor Tolly-wood also make a penny or two.

8. Next Durga Puja, do the traditional dhunuchi naach (ref: Sanjay Dutt in Parineeta) at Maddox Square and claim semi-Bengali citizenship.

9. No "Kimon achho Kolkatta" tweets please. We will make fun of it for the rest of our lives.

10. And yes, of course - Bengal is not Pepsi.  

Releasing June 2012

KAT Scan... 1

In a forthcoming book (in which I have more than passing interest), it is reported that there is going to be some serious trivia on Bollywood.
To give the readers of Calcutta Chromosome a sneak peek into the content of the book, I thought I will do a series of four quizzes this month (all related to a chapter from the book). Every Friday in June, your attention will have to flit between Shanghai, Wasseypur and Blogger, then. And don't worry, the trivia in these quizzes will not be from the book. Bwahahaha... out of syllabus hai! 

And very cleverly, I have decided to call this quiz KAT Scan (KAT = Kitnay Aadmi Thay, geddit? What's a Bollywood book without a catchy acronym?).

Errr... are there any prizes?
Prize? What prize? You guys should do this for the passion, yaar!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

1. Which film is Amitabh Bachchan watching with so much excitement while people around him are clearly not amused?
2. Whose business model was based on the iconic Mother India when it first released?
3. Who went to see Shaan at Maratha Mandir? And what is the fallacy in that?
4. Guddi takes an autograph from her favourite star on the booklet of a film. Which one?
Psst... there are several films already named in the subtitles. Is it one of them?

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5. Name the film this Bengali film was a part of.









6. Who is the forlorn lady standing under the chhatra chhaya of Amitabh Bachchan and Saira Banu of Zameer? (AB had a guest appearance, playing himself in the film.)

Image may be NSFW.
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7. Shashi Kapoor as a mean machine in Mukti. Which frequent co-star of Shashi made a quick buck while this meta movie was on in the main movie?







BONUS QUESTION FOR BENGALIS
This scene is from a film song written by a very famous Bengali. Who wrote the story on which the film (not the main film, but the film within the film) was based?

Commercial Break: One of the chapters in the book is called Meta: 10 Films Within Films, exploring the movies which had another film being made within it.
Cool, no? You will buy it, no? (Shit, I am sounding like an Eureka Forbes salesman.)

ANSWERS
1. In Akayla, Amitabh Bachchan is watching Seeta Aur Geeta (coincidentally or not) by the same director. He got an idea to crack his case by seeing the twins in the movie.
2. In Kala Bazar, Dev Anand made a killing by 'blacking' the tickets of Mother India.
3. In Bluffmaster, Roy (AB Jr), Dittu (Riteish Deshmukh) and Sridhar (Nana Patekar) went to see Shaan to cut a deal in the dark. They went in around 1 PM while the 11:30 AM show at Maratha Mandir - for the last 17 years - has been some other film.
4. Anupama.
5. Do Anjaane, where Rekha Roy became a star Sumitra Devi.
6. Chhoti Si Baat, with Vidya Sinha as Prabha.
7. Toughie. This movie was playing in Kasme Vaade when AB was trying to steal a car after selling tickets to a house-full show to the car owner.

Bonus Q: The main film was Chiriyakhana (directed by a reasonably talented Bengali director) which was about finding a yesteryear actress. The film within the film was Bankimchandra Chattopadhyay's Bishobriksho. And the scene shown was a song written by the director - Bhalobashar tumi ki jano? (What do you know of love?). Watch it.  

SCORES
Avishek - 2.5 (0.5 for DDLJ-Maratha Mandir)
Straight Cut - 5.0 (should be given 0.5 more for Deewar/Devar, which is great)
Abhishek Mukherjee - 7.0
TheQuark - 5.0
Ignoramus Scribbler - 1
WhatsInNames - 2
Anonymous - 3 (what an imaginative name!)
KeepingItSimple - 2
Sakshama - 3
Anonymous - 2
Tejaswi - 2
SomOnline - 3
iTW - 0.5
Khalil Sawant - 1.5 (0.5 for being the first commenter!)

Great performance from Straight Cut and TheQuark. Abhishek Mukherjee's score should be reduced to 2 (-5 points for missing the Bonus).
Wait for the next instalment this Friday. And the book by the end of this month. (Pre-order opens in a couple of weeks.)

KAT Scan... 2

Its Friday again!
AAANNNDDD.... we are back with the second trailer of Kitnay Aadmi Thay? as the copies look to tumble out of the press any moment now.
<Insert bhaiyon, behnon, dil thaam ke etc speech in Ameen Sayani's voice>

So, as promised, here is the second quiz based on yet another chapter of the book.
(And I am still going with the KAT Scan. Thought of doing a pun like KATrina, KATey nahin kaTtey etc but felt serious readers *snigger snigger* would get put off.)

The last chapter of the book is Picture Abhi Baaki Hai: 15 Unusual The Ends - which takes a look at how Bollywood ends it movies.
Therefore, this quiz is on the end-frames of Hindi movies.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
1. A very popular way to end a film - a family portrait. Which family is it?
2. Typically, fluorescent clothing and apparel (in this case, violins!) are the hallmarks of either huge hits (Yaarana) or huge flops. Which movie is this from?
3. Arguably, Amitabh's most successful romantic pairing was with Parveen Babi. Which movie is this romantic closure from?
4. Name this mystery thriller starring the biggest star of the 1970s, which made a request similar to Psycho ("Please don't give away the ending. It is the only one we have.")
5. What is this inverted triangle in front of twin doors supposed to signify? Who are inside those two doors?

6. Love, peace, hair grease. Thus ends which reincarnation saga?
Bloody difficult question!
7. Simple. Which film?
8. Probably the only film (apart from Waisa Bhi Hota Hai Part II) that had a connection between its opening frame and closing frame. Name the film.








Can you see how deadly this book is?
The first chapter is one on innovative title sequences. The last one is on interesting end frames. What more do you want?
What?
Oh, you pervert! Go and follow @iPoonamPandey for all that. There is only good, clean fun in this book.
Note to parents with school-going children: The book is U-rated. Okay, U/A (Parental guidance). But buy one copy for each kid, so that they don't fight with each other.
(Classy sales pitch, no?)

ANSWERS

1. As most people have said, it is the Sharma-Shankar family from Gol Maal.
2. Roop Ki Rani Choron Ka Raja– the huge flop that spend tons of money on Sridevi’s costumes, Anil Kapoor’s stunts and fluorescent violins.
3. Mukhtar Singh ka naam toh tumne suna hoga?Kaalia is the film.
4. Benaam, in which AB was persecuted by an unnamed adversary.
5. Hema-Dharmendra and Hema-Sanjeev of Seeta Aur Geeta were being urged to practice family planning (and presumably, safe sex too).
6. Neel Kamal. Sorry about the ‘hair grease’ non-sequitur.
7. Chupke Chupke.
8. Waqt. Many people have named the opening line also.

SCORES


7.5 – Straight Cut (for demanding extra 0.5 points for efforts AND giving a cool trivia on Karz)
7.0 – Avishek, Abhishek Mukherjee
6.0 – Plaban Mohanty
5.0 – JN, Manish Mittal, Pankaj Parashar, SG, Shazia, Thequark
4.0 – M, Meghbalika, Pallavi, Rahul (lost points by adding Ram aur Shyam behing Seeta aur Geeta), Vikram Bondal
3.0 – Kaptain Kantaap, Khalil Sawant
2.5 – Kuntala (0.5 points as early bird prize)
2.0 – Banno, Dhinvira, Gargi Mehra, KeepingItSimple, Korak Dutta

KAT Scan... 3

Week 3! Week 3!! Week 3!!!
The third trailer of Kitnay Aadmi Thay? releases amidst pomp and glitter.

This week’s quiz is on India’s unanimously loved object of devotion – Amul advertising.
It has been fifty years since the cute Amul moppet has been entertaining us and there is now a book compiling the best of the lot. Do pick up the book and spare a thought (and a credit card) for the other book on Bollywood which has a chapter on Amul advertising as well.

Ladies and gentlemen (Deviyon aur sajjanon, if still Ameen Sayani mode) 
Kitnay Aadmi Thay? has a chapter called Utterly Butterly Bollywood: 30 Amul Ads, looking at some of the best ads that were around movies or inspired by them. 

1. SRK got us to say Chak De India. What did Amul say instead?


2. How did Amul pay a tribute to Cheeni Kum through the baseline?
3. What was the baseline for the ad around Dil Chahta Hai?
4. What was the 'punny' headline when Dil Hai Ke Manta Hai released?
5. How did Amul sing this hit song?
6. What was Amul's take on the film name?
7. What did Amul call this movie?
8. What was the headline?
9. And this one?
10. Which word is missing in the headline?
11. And this film's name became what?









Same deal. Answer quickly. Guess if you don't know. Ask friends to try. Answers on Monday/Tuesday.
Hopefully, pre-orders will open before the next quiz!

ANSWERS
This has got to be the easiest quiz I have done on this blog.
1. Chakh Le India
2. Sexy Taste (to the little girl called Sexy in the movie)
3. Akhtarly Butterly Delicious
4. Little Bhatt'er goes well with Aamir Khana.
5. Aati Kya, Makhan dala!
6. Dishqiya
7. Kabhi Amulvida Naa Kehna
8. Roti ke neeche kya hai?
9. Phir Bhi Meal Hai Hindustani
10. (Not) Masoom (Anymore)
11. Wake Up Sid!

SCORES
11 - Manish Mittal, Meghbalika, Pallavi, Abhishek Mukherjee, King Khan, Plaban Mohanty
10 - SG
8.0 - Straight Cut (Yes, the book is all about bonding with friends around Bollywood), Korak Dutta
4.5 - Keeping It Simple (0.5 early bird points) 
4.0 - Itching to Write
2.5 - M (0.5 for smart attempts and close misses)

Sigh. 6 all-correct entries and complains of Googleable answers. Arre baba, you are NOT supposed to Google - no?
Anyway, the last trailer - coming up this Friday is not going to be searchable. Not on the 'net, at least. You can easily find them in your memories.
(BTW, it is a quiz on dialogues. So, you can call it the 'Dialogue Promo'.)

KAT Scan... 4

Tarantarra. Dhishum. Dhishum. 
Amidst much excitement (mine) and fanfare (mine again), the book seems to be on its way to the stores.

And the last trailer has coincided beautifully with the books hitting the pre-order shelves of most online bookstores.
The release has been pushed to avoid clash with The Amazing Spiderman this week. Also, first week of the month would mean fatter wallets and brasher credit card usage. (Heh. heh.)

LINKS ON THE RIGHT SIDE PANEL. ORDER NOW!!!

And while waiting for the delivery, here is the fourth and final trailer of Kitnay Aadmi Thay? You could call this the 'Dialogue Promo' (or 'Song Promo') since it is a quiz on some famous lines and songs. It is more of a puzzle than a quiz.
You will have to guess the dialogue or song from the visual clues. Cool, no?


* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Image may be NSFW.
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1. A modified poster of Vicky Donor with some strange people on the edges.






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2. I asked this one some time back on Facebook. Those with an unfair advantage are the ones who will have to buy multiple copies of the book!
What is the guy on the left saying about the guy on the right?




Image may be NSFW.
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3. Simple.



4. A juxtaposition of the monster and the city.











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5. Anything I say will give away the answer.








6. A greeting, a leader and a designation.

7. The lady seems to be really pleased to have owned this kind of TV.
8. Something is something. Something is something. Makes sense?
Image may be NSFW.
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9. A certain kind of couple connected to the Chairman of Selectors with a letter.







10. How many film posters?













ANSWERS
The quiz was not as difficult as it was made out to be. A few were eminently 'gettable' while all were 'wokoutable'.

1. I thought the two Shahs (Shah 'n' Shah) on the two edges made this a dead giveaway. And of course, Vicky is the baap of all the kids. Rishte mein toh hum sabke baap hote hain. Naam hai Shahenshah.
2. That is Ajit from Zanjeer (where his name was Teja) and Mark from Facebook. Teja main hoon. Mark idhar hai.
3. Some knowledge of Bong pronunciation would help in this. 4 Shom-s followed by a Samosa is nothing but the great Dong's pronouncement: Shom shom shom shom shamoshasha.
4. Simple. Just describe the picture in Hindi. Mumbai ka king kaun?
5. That is, of course, Ali's well. As Rancho kept telling us, Aal izz well. 
6. {Hi + Hu (Jintao) + COO}x 2 = Hai huku Hai huku (hai hai)
7. The lady seems to be saying "(Yeh) mera plasma hai", paraphrasing Shashi Kapoor who said Mere paas maa hai.
8. There is a 'holy' pic and a 'cab'. If a=b and b=a, then... Holi kab hain? Kab hain holi?
9. DINK + a + Chika = Dhinka chika
10. And of course, it all ends with a product placement. How many Aadmis were there in the posters? KITNAY AADMI THAY?

SCORES
9 - Meghbalika, Abhishek Mukherjee (Can't believe both didn't get the Mumbai ka King Kong one!)
8 - Manish Mittal
7 - Sipra
5 - Plaban Mohanty (brilliant Draupadi answer)
4 - Keeping It Simple, Udayan
3 - Pankaj Parashar (not the director of Chaalbaaz, I checked)
2 - Sumit
1.5 - JD (0.5 point for getting the most important one of the lot)

That wraps up an amazing month of Bollywood quizzing!
Now, go and buy the book. Say nice things about it and get other people to buy it as well. 

Premiere of KAT

The good people of URead.com and Westland Books are running a picture quiz as part of a Kitnay Aadmi Thay? contest. 

Take a look at the image below and answer two simple questions:




1. Which movie is this poster from?
2. According to the movie, there is an error in this poster. What is it?

E-mail your answers to ureadshop@gmail.com, mentioning your complete contact details. 

If you participate, do leave a comment here. I will push for reservation of seats for Calcutta Chromosome readers.


Ten winners will be invited for lunch with me (among other people) on 14 July, Saturday at Zura, Sector-29, Gurgaon.
UnfortuNote: This contest is for Delhi-NCR folks only. 

27 in 58

I spent May and June in Bombay, on work. My team at work turned out to be fantastic and it almost became a paid holiday (wait, is my Boss reading?). In the 58 days I spent in Bombay, I ate in 27 different places. This is - by far - my best average over a sustained period of time.
So, I thought I will take a break from the book promotion and write about food instead. As I started to write, I realised I could not remember some of the food. Basically - If I could not remember the food, then it was not all that great.

HOTELS
ITC Grand Central, Parel - Landed up here for a alumni meet and managed to eat just before they wrapped up the buffet. After the uncountable bottoms ups that are mandatory when you meet old friends, I don't recall the food too much. The black daal was fantastic. They probably imported it from Bukhara Delhi.

Taj Exotica, Goa - Stayed here for a holiday and crammed ourselves with the Goanese delights. 5-star kitchens usually temper the local flavours but Exotica didn't do that too much. Oh - and their breakfast buffet was to die for. The amount of eggs and bacon I had was quite unbelievable.

NIGHT SPOTS / BARS
1000 Oaks, Pune - This was the nostalgia trip. My wife had done her Master's degree in Pune and we had to order the Barman's Pitcher in what was easily the most crowded nightspot I have seen in my life. People were standing on each other's feet, sitting on random stranger's table and the glass panel in front of the DJ looked to be under serious threat. The Barman's pitcher turned out to be Rooh Afza but the other cocktails were good, the music fantastic and the atmosphere electric. Highly recommended.

U-Turn, Khar - It is a sasta-sundar-tikau joint in the vicinity of the better-known WTF. Its entrance through a hotel has got to be the shadiest I have ever seen in a bar/pub. The rooftop ambience was much nicer. Ended up having lots of snacks and Bacardi while conducting deliciously inane conversations with college friends. IPL on the giant screen was almost not needed.

Blue Frog, Lower Parel - This is the place to be. Known for live gigs, it also has a menu serving cocktails and snacks. Who knows, maybe even main courses also. But I was there when Leslie Lewis was performing live and we were bidding farewell to a colleague. Which led me to an excess of LIIT and no recollection of the food.

ORIENTAL
Royal China, Bandra - My friends took me to this place, which managed to get us all excited by giving us an iPad to order. We tapped on the dishes we wanted to eat, sent them to a 'shopping card', saw the bill amount and 'confirmed the order'. The tastefully dressed (read: short skirted) ladies who seem to exist only within the borders of Bandra lived up the ambience but the food didn't stick too long.


Busaba, Lower Parel - Again, one of those places that are very nice without being memorable. Had a Khao Sway which was decent (though I like my wife's version better). It also made me realise that I have eaten too much at too many great places to get excited by just a good meal. (#WriteLikeVirSanghvi)

CONTINENTAL

Pali Hill Cafe, Bandra - This is supposed to be one of the 'cool' places, frequented by models. It sports a 'chic' run-down look, complete with an unobtrusive entrance near Pali Naka. The food was good without being spectacular and therefore, led to the feeling of overpricing.

Moshe's Cafe, Lower Parel - Located under a staircase of Palladium Mall, this is a coffee shop - the most over-priced one in the city, even by Bombay's exalted standards. I had a Rs 45 chocolate tart, which was about the size of a small pani-puri. The coffee and tea were good by general standards and passable considering the price they charged.

Indigo Deli, Lower Parel - Brilliant food. Understated ambience. I went with the intention of having a light meal and ended up polishing off a juicy tenderloin steak and half of my wife's Caesar salad. Me having a salad - yes, the place is that good!

Cafe Zoe, Lower Parel - This place was made famous due to a raid by ACP Vasant Dhoble (of Mumbai Moral Police Force) and the celebrity junky that we are, we had to be there. The food - though a little expensive - turned out to be fine. The best part was the space. Located inside one of those mill compounds, Zoe has a huge bar-cum-dining area on the ground floor AND a large dining area on the mezzanine.


Bungalow 9, Bandra - One of the those sprawling Bandra bungalows converted into a sprawling restaurant  serving people who seemed to have walked straight out of the supporting cast of Dil Chahta Hai. Had a great time withe some colleagues. Don't remember the food, though.

Candies, Bandra - Old favourite. What do I say that @FinelyChopped has not said already? I went there with Abhishek and we ended up eating pretty much everything that is usually left in Candies after 8 PM. And we had a delightful conversation on the lack of canons around Bollywood.


Touche, Pune - This is supposed to be Pune's 'sizzler place' and part of my wife and her friends' nostalgia trip. Either nostalgia puts a rose tint to everything or my wife's taste has evolved over the last decade (thanks to you-know-who), this was a bit of a let-down. Puneites don't share my sentiments, though. They were packing it in.

PAN INDIAN
Jumjoji, Bandra - Claiming to serve authentic Parsi food, they also offer a warning: "Offer open till Parsis last." A small restaurant (almost like a largish drawing room in a 2BHK flat), their food is excellent. Their Patrani Machhi is so good that we had one each. Yes, one full fish each. The Salli Boti was great too. Only their desserts weren't too great. But only a pig like me would attempt dessert after the amount of food I ate.

Arsalan, Khar - Mutton Biriyani and Chicken Chnaap for 4 people = Rs 730. You already know how good the biriyani is. Even Imtiaz Ali does. He was there partaking the pleasures.

Pal's Fish Corner, Bandra - I don't know where this restaurant is. I don't even know if they are restaurant or just a takeaway joint. I happened order in from them once and asked for Bheja Fry. Their Bheja Fry is prepared by batter frying little balls of brain. OH MY GOD. I cannot describe it. I cannot forget it. Let me just say, it is like an orgasm in your mouth.

The Golconda Bowl, Bandra - I wanted to have a meal here since I love Andhra food and @FinelyChopped recommended it heartily. Just when I had given up hope and it was our last evening out at a friend's place, they made my day by ordering in from this place. Their Patthar ke Kabab is to die for, to live for, to dedicate books to, to sing odes to.
Sing with me: Patthar ke kabab, tujhe maine mohabbat ka khuda maana... Don't laugh. It is that good.

Masala Craft, Bandra - It could be a typical office lunch place but it is much better than that - including a semi-open seating area. A competent Butter Chicken and a very good Yellow Daal should make you think it is a home-style place. Their Butter Naans convince you otherwise.

Diva Maharashtracha, Mahim - A sister restaurant of Goa Portuguesa, they serve the delights of Maharashtra from Kolhapur and Malwan. Mutton from the former province and fish from the latter (Hirva Rassa, to be precise) are most recommended.

Zaffar Bhai's Dilli Darbar, Mahim - Located a stone's throw from my office, their Mutton Biriyani was my standard lunch option. I had their number of speed-dial and ended up having their huge portion singlehandedly at least once every week. Their rolls aren't bad either.

COASTAL
Gajalee, Lower Parel - Old favourite. Opened with a Tandoori crab and followed it up with some fish curry. Since I was in the company of Bongs, much joy permeated through the table as we checked the size of the crab to be cooked. In hindsight, we consciously (and gleefully) ordered the death of a live being for the express purpose of our pleasure. But then, our ancestors didn't get us to the top of the food chain for nothing.

Jai Hind Lunch Home, Lower Parel - Great food. Cheap food. Sea food. Need I say more. Jai Hind Lunch Home has many branches spread throughout the desire, offering delicious pomfret, bangda and prawn within an arm's length of desire. They do home delivery. Their Fish Ambotik Curry had a low-profile brilliance that was quite memorable.

Mahesh Lunch Home, Fountain - The stunner. Their Butter Garlic Crab should be made mandatory for all last meals before execution.They also have a mean Tandoor Liver. Not to mention a Prawn Harimirch. We went there twice and both times, I wanted to die with a morsel for their food in my mouth.

Goa Portuguesa, Mahim - An old warhorse of the Mumbai eating scene, it has aged a bit since I came here last. Their Sorpotel is still very good as is their Bombil Fry (served with tartare sauce). Their decor is still garish but with all that pork and prawn around, who cares about the orange walls?

Martin's Corner, Goa - The old favourite of Goa. Their Lobster Thermidore is brilliant but too little (food) for too much (money). Otherwise, it is brilliant. Oh, did I say their pork is also brilliant.

Mum's Kitchen, Goa - This is Goa's best restaurant. There, I said it. The fabled shacks, the better known places, the model hangouts all pale in comparison to this place in Miramar. They are terribly full all the time and their servers never have time. But when a place is this good, you don't complain about the slow service. Waiting only makes the heart grow fonder.

My Favourite 5 Dishes (in no order):
- Pork Vindaloo - Mum's Kitchen
- Patrani Machhi - Jumjoji
- Bheja Fry - Pal's Fish Corner
- Butter garlic crab - Mahesh Lunch Home
- Patthar ke kabab - The Golconda Bowl
(Biriyani from Arsalan has not been considered for this list since it has now been inducted in my Hall of Fame.)

KAT Le!

This is what newspapers call a 'Sales Promotional Feature'. Not very interesting content but pushes sales. If the first print run of Kitnay Aadmi Thay doesn't vanish from the markets immediately, there will be more. And be prepared for more KAT jokes like the one in the title of this post.

Koolkart Piece
Koolkart is a site that looks to make the shopping experience social through recommendations and interactions. I wrote a short piece for them on my love for Bollywood trivia.

On the positive side
Reviews have been generally positive. Bollywood agnostic Mad Momma is happy. As are Aneela and my cousin on the Flipkart page
ItchingToRead did the first review of the book - even before I had received my copy.
Abhishek and Suhel are self-confessed Bollywood trivia addicts. They seemed to have liked it too.
The venerable JAP called the book his 'current source of joy'. And Maryann laughed out loud at a couple of parts in book (while in office).
By and large, people seem to be liking the book. Though, one must admit the people who have read it are all hardcore Bollywood fans and therefore, part of the book's constituency.

Fanboy
I have been reading Anupama Chopra for nearly two decades now when she used to write on Bollywood editor for India Today. I have been a fan of hers for nearly decade now - ever since she wrote Sholay: The Making of a Classic. I sent her a copy of my book more for my own satisfaction than the thought that she might get any time to read it.
So, I was more than a little surprised when she tweeted this:

As a classmate pointed out, I behaved like a giggly teenager. On closer inspection, I realised she had made a marginally positive comment and probably just started on the book. But then, she wrote the book on Sholay. You know, the book on Sholay.


Now on YouTube
Recently, I had a small l(a)unch meet with some bloggers and contest-winners who answered this question correctly. In the group, there was Aashish Chopra who fiddled around with his iPhone and threatened to record my silly banter. I thought he was joking even though he mentioned that he had made a video on getting a refund from a phone company.
As it turned out, he did record me answering a few questions though I wandered off on a tangent very quickly. This recording and some cool editing resulted in a YouTube video with some snippets from the book, some squeaky-voiced pronouncements from me and scary visuals of my Dracula teeth.
I am so amazed at this output that I cannot even begin to describe it. Just watch it!


Kindle in the Wind
And finally, the Kindle edition of Kitnay Aadmi Thay is now available here.
At a paltry $7.99, it is a cheap, cheerful and environment-friendly way to know more about the opening sequences in Ramesh Sippy movies. Do buy, recommend and review it on Amazon.

And hello, kind souls in India -
Paper versions of the book are available for less than $3.99 at online and offline bookstores near you.

Helpful links available in the right panel (thoughtfully arranged in increasing order of price).
If I haven't said it already, BUY IT!

Supermen of Bollywood

Bitten by the Batman (and Spiderman) bug, I did a list - yes, I have not tired of them - of Bollywood superheroes. This was first put up on the IBNLive website (complete with a picture of Drona!) but I thought I should put it up here as well. 
So, here it comes - 2100 words of pointless Bollywood gyan. And you do know what to do if you like it, right

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Any hero who romances the heroine, plays badminton with her (including an under-the-leg shot), sings a song, fights off goons and mouths bombastic dialogue all within nine minutes of screen time is actually a superhero.(This sequence of events was performed by Jeetendra in Humjoli.)
Which means you could argue that all Bollywood movies of 1960s and 1970s are superhero movies. But here, we are restricting ourselves to people with specific superpowers (or gadgets with superpowers), cool costumes and preferably a secret identity. Thanks to our super-screenwriters, they also had super-cool lines. 

In his first lead role, Jackie Shroff was Hero. Almost immediately afterwards, he was Superhero in Shiva Ka Insaaf.
Shiva was a super-combo of super-heroes from many genres. His training regimen was straight out of Shaolin. His costume (mask and cape) was taken from Zorro. His mark-leaving ring was from Phantom. His common-man getup (and profession) was alarmingly similar to Clark Kent’s bespectacled, bumbling reporter routine.
Trained by a trio of ‘uncles’ (secularly called Ram, Rahim and Robert), Jackie Shroff went from being Bhola to Shiva and back again, romancing Poonam Dhillon by day and fighting crime also by day – all in a Herculean effort to catch the people who killed his parents.

Corrupt policeman by day, black-leather-chain-armguard-salt-and-pepper-wig-hair clad dispenser of justice by night. Amitabh’s first outing as a bonafide secret identity superhero was Shahenshah, the story idea of which is credited to Jaya Bachchan.
After his honest dad was driven to suicide by the evil machinations of JK (pronounced Jaay  Kaay by Amrish Puri), AB grew up to become a police officer who always flirted with bribery from shady characters (explained by his need to know who was, in fact, shady). And once he got to know, he appeared like a messiah in his jazzy leather costume beating up Olympic-sized wrestlers for running vice dens, stopping unlawful eviction of slum-dwellers and patrolling the empty streets of Mumbai’s western suburbs at night (Andheri raaton mein,  sunsaan rahon par…).
Apart from his super strength, breath that echoed far and wide and godly voice, he had that one superpower by which he impregnated the mothers of all villains in the world. As he claimed, “Rishte mein toh hum tumhare baap hote hain…”

Apart from the wannbe Supermans in Bollywood, there was a ‘real’ one. Puneet Issar was Superman in the film of the same name – which has been part of many discussions on the worst Indian movie ever.
As Shekhar, Puneet Issar breakdanced to Michael Jackson songs and then quickly changed into his red-brief-on-blue-costume get-up (complete with a lock of hair on the forehead) to fight crime. Dharmendra played the father (Jor El) who was forced the leave his son in the care of foster parents on Earth though he returned in ‘spirit’ to guide his son when he performed breathtaking feats like rescuing a hijacked plane by plucking it off the sky and lugging it on his shoulders (except the plane was rolling on its wheels and our good ol’ Superman was tiptoeing in front with his shoulder touching the side of the plane).

After reading about Superman, those who are despairing about the quality of special effects in Bollywood should take heart from another film that released around the same time. Boney Kapoor bet his house and brother’s career to produce Mr India– an invisibility caper, originally written for Amitabh Bachchan.
Arun Verma’s father was a scientist who invented a ‘faarmooolaaa’ that rendered people invisible – except in red light. <Insert red light district joke here> He knew evil monsters (especially those with names like Mogambo) would want to misuse his invention and so he hid the gadget (a blingy bracelet with flashing lights) and got killed by the monsters. Years later, his son recovered the bracelet, put it on and became Mr India.
Mr India took on adulterers, black marketers and smugglers in action settings and horny crime reporters in romantic ones. He eventually took on Mogambo in his den and was doing phenomenally well till somebody switched on all the red lights. Then Arun Verma realized that to take on villains, you didn’t need to be Superman but Mango Man.

Another father died. Another villain escaped. Another police officer looked the other way. When the dead man’s son prayed to the Bajrangbali for justice, a storm blew across the temple area. A hi-tech bow-and-arrow slid across from the Hanuman idol to the little boy and the idol’s garland flew over to the boy’s neck. Thus, Toofan was born.
Directed by Ketan Desai, Toofan a superhero with a desi-snazzy costume (black pathan suit with orange cape), explosive lines (Jab jab zulm ki aandhi badhti hai, tab tab usse rokne ke liye toofan aata hai) and a calling card that literally blew you away. Whenever Toofan arrived on the scene, he was accompanied by a real storm. Wow, that beats the Batmobile hollow!
Add to that deadly villains, shady police officers, a bumbling magician (who was Toofan’s twin brother), a mother character and you had a full-blown desi superstar/superman.

Ajooba = Zorro + Robin Hood + Braveheart + James Bond. 
He wore a mask, shot arrows, robbed the rich to donate to the poor, rebelled against the ruler and was a hit with women. He was, literally, a miracle. When the evil Vazir (Amrish Puri) of his Sultan father tried to kill him, a dolphin carried him to safety (and became his foster mother) and left him with an ironsmith. The burly ironsmith trained the anonymous prince in swordfighting, archery and catching arrows as he grew up to rebel against the Vazir, who kept intoning ‘Shaitaan Zindabaad’.
Finally, Ajooba made an appearance with a booming slogan – “Muddai lakh bura chahta hai toh kya hota hain / Wohi hota hai jo manzoor-e-khuda hota hai” – that became his calling card.
Throughout the movie, Amitabh Bachchan toggled between mild-mannered serai-owner Ali and masked crusader Ajooba. The final showdown happened between him and Fauladi Shaitan (a metallic giant, which looked like a cross between Johnny Sokko’s Flying Robot and Chewbacca) amidst demons, flying carpets, magic swords and the final revelation that Ajooba Shahzaada hai!

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Honeymoon Travels Pvt Ltd put a motley group of six newly-married couples on a bus to Goa and tracked their love, lust and lives as skeletons tumbled out of the closets.
Abhay Deol and Minissha Lamba formed the two super-compatible Parsi couple, who were together since childhood, wore colour-coordinated clothes, danced synchronously and even managed to finish Sudokus at exactly the same time. And they both had a secret to hide.
Aspi and Zara were – hold your breath – superheroes. They got their superpowers – it was hinted – when they were both caught in an asteroid fall. And that led to both of them vanishing in the dead of the night to fight crime. A cute bit of misunderstanding later, (Gasp! Are you cheating on me?) they went on to become a superer-compatible couple.

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Many superheroes have an extra-terrestrial connection. Usually, they are dropped off from a different planet/galaxy/universe. Krrishwas from a strange breed whose father was ‘blessed’ by aliens to attain superpowers and those powers passed on to him.
While his father Rohit was born with slow mental growth and sharpened only after an alien intervention (Koi Mil Gaya), Krishna Mehra was born with superpowers. As a child, he drew fantastic pictures, did Std III maths while in Std I and totally cracked an ‘IQ Test’ (which was really a GK test, but still…) His paranoid grandmother took him away from the public eye so that he doesn’t get killed like his father but it is not easy to hide a hunk like Hrithik. He soon emerged racing (and beating) horses, leaping over mountains and displaying his rippling muscles.
Very soon, Krishna had landed up in Singapore following the love of his life and had ended up becoming Krrish– wearing a masquerade ball mask and his overcoat inside out. He then saved children in a burning circus, fought goons, leapt over cars in downtown Singapore and finally locked horns with a time-travelling evil scientist (who – conveniently – had also ‘killed’ his father) in his island hideout.
His job thus done, Krrish returned to his idyllic home in the hills but in the name of the oppressed masses, in the name of helpless children, in the name of the tormented box office… he will be back.   

Abhishek Bachchan tried his hand at being a superhero in the semi-mythological fantasy, Drona that went on to become one of the biggest box-office disasters of recent times.
He started off as mild-mannered Aditya, blissfully – or rather, painfully thanks to a cruel aunt – unaware that he was one of a long line of warrior princes designated to protect the vessel of amrit that emerged from the Manthan. His super-strength was unlocked by a ‘bodyguard’ (Priyanka Chopra, who put the body in the bodyguard), who moved around with a chandelier-like weapon. He donned a traditional Indian costume with a flowing kurta, churidar and sword (not to mention a jeweled headband) to take on his adversary, Riz Raizada (Kay Kay in the most inexplicable role of his career), a magician-asura with massive pointy sideburns and hair gelled to shape like a single black antenna on his head.
Despite ticking off all the boxed of superhero ingredients, Drona did not make an impact due to some very ordinary special effects, a slow – almost boring – buildup and super unfit AB Jr, whose cheeks jiggled when he took flying leaps.

From mythology and spiritual strengths, superhero movies moved into the hi-tech gaming zone with Ra.One.
The superhero G.One (Good One) emerged out of a video game that also had the titular villain Ra.One (Random Access One – huh?) in order to protect the game designer’s son. A cool blue-tinged suit, unblinking eyes and blinking heart formed the persona of the Good One as he took on his form-shifting adversary in a London car pound, Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus (in a mindblowing SFX-laden scene) and finally a video game.
SRK went from the mild-mannered geek Shekhar Subramaniam to the cool, robotic G.One in an effort to woo the family audience. Despite a lukewarm critical response, the box office was more responsive to his superhero act that included running on Mumbai local train sides, doing household chores super-efficiently and wooing Kareena Kapoor with Chammak chhallo dance steps.

Honourable Mentions
It’s a bird! It’s a plane!! It’s Govinda!!!
Dariya Dil, a nondescript movie by most standards, had an iconic superhero song in true Bollywood tradition. Govinda dressed up as Superman and Kimi Katkar was Spiderwoman for a song that has become so cult that the video has gone on to garner 8.7 million – yes, 87 lakh – views on YouTube. They zoomed over the Mumbai skyline before landing in a garden and singing a romantic duet (Tu mera Superman, main teri lady/ Ho gaya hai apna pyaar already) that scaled unprecedented heights of WTFness.

Memories of Another Day

GreatBong is to be blamed for this post. Sometime back, he fanned my not-so-youthful ego by saying that he remembered an article I wrote for my college magazine and managed to quote a line from that. Needless to say, I was over the moon and immediately deployed my classmates to find that issue of the magazine.
One of them - Anindito - managed to dig out a papyrus-like copy of magazine - Chhayapath.

Having gone back to that article, I am convinced that Arnab's tastes in writing need some serious overhauling. I thought of not putting up that article on the blog but then, it has some nostalgic value for students of Jadavpur University. And of course, it also shows - immodestly - that I have improved a lot. Ahem.

I have made no changes to the original text. You get it as bad as it was.
Also, I have not included any explanatory notes. Either you get it or you don't.
So Arnab - this one is for you!

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Nostalgia is the strongest emotion known to man. It is what drives this pen and promises to fill up my lazy Sunday afternoons in the years to come.

What follows is a whimsical glossary of things that were a part of our years at this august institution. So here goes:

AC: Haunt of the ‘first years’. Studiously ignored by ‘seniors’. It is at this place, the students of JU have perfected the esoteric art form Ranjitsinghji had invented – glancing at fine legs. Not to mention cutting through silly points.

Arena: Inter-department cricket tournament, for the uninitiated. Precursor to the India-Sri Lanka semifinal at Eden. Makes mincemeat of the Olympian ideal of ‘taking part and not winning’.

Adda: a.k.a. Thek. But then, an adda by any other names would be just as sweet.

Bridge: Official sport of the University. My attempts to master this game were seriously impeded by my penchant for calling 7NT, a sure sign of my MT head.

Byapok Bawali: Unofficial aim of every student. Maybe called the Big BB as its popularity in the campus is comparable to that of the Big B.

Cheap Stores: Manned by the mercurial Haru-da. Supplier of 5268 lab sheets that go into the making of an engineer.

FETSU: Not unlike God. Never seen. Never heard. But always present.

Funda: A commodity is alarmingly short supply and hence in heavy demand. (See my funda in Eco?) Some men are born with it. Some achieve it. And a lucky few can bluff their way through without it.

Jhari: Don’t think about it. Just do it.

M-1-1: Graveyard of attaches, harmoniums etc. More notorious than the Black Hole of Calcutta. Has spelt doom for many a promising career.

Navina: Official entertainer to the University. Provides the A to Z of education (My Tutor) and entertainment (Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge).

Proxy: The art of being in two places simultaneously. Caution: Dangerous on careless handling and large doses.

Quizzing: Pseudo-intellectual pastime. Popularised by the maverick who said “Pass” when asked to sum up a GD. Questions range from a googly (which area in Calcutta has the pin code 700094?) to a bouncer (What was Tendulkar’s score in the 3rd Test vs South Africa in ’92-’93?).

Ragging: An activity performed by seniors in order to make the freshers feel as ‘frustu’ as themselves.

Sanskriti: Exists in three varieties – Arts, Science and Engineering. Number in a calendar year depends on the Union election results. Annual festival to promote culture. Also promotes sales of Dasgupta.

Semester: A time of clogged bathroom drains and pencil-written walls. Should be regarded in the same spirit as Julius Caesar’s contemplation of death.

Supple: Official nightmare of the University. Serious threat to sanity. (One victim imagined hearing “Supple waale…” a la Sargam.) Experienced practitioners have mental calmness comparable to that of Socrates.

Tarak-da: Non-entity during the first three years. Big Man on Campus in the final year – especially after the end of ‘The Chatt Show’.

Tech Fair: According to a noted humourist, “At Jadavpur University, we have 4 days of Tech Fair and 361 days of Thek Fair.”

Viva: Rhymes with “Bhai, wah!”. How ironic! A dignified silence is essential for “it is better to keep quiet and let others think you are stupid than to open your mouth and remove all doubts”.

Xerox: The second most labour-saving invention of today. (Note: “The greatest labour-saving invention of today is tomorrow.”)

Zindabaad: The clarion call which brightened our days with the hopes of an impending strike.

So those are memories of another day. “Rose leaves, when the rose is dead…” of no use at all. But then “the most beautiful things in the world are the most useless”. Or is it the other way round? 

The 'Just Married, Please Excuse' Contest

This is my entry to the contest being run around Yashodhara's book - describing a 'funny' event from my married life 'preferably when just married'.
And since Yashodhara is such a good friend (and because I want to eat Mamagoto), I will write three (three? THREE!) incidents.
Okay, two of them are not pertaining to mypost-married life but what the hell?

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The first incident happened after my wife and I had met (thanks, in no small measure, to our parents' initiative) and both families had agreed to spend the rest of their lives together while we decided that we didn't want to keep them apart.
I was in Bangalore while she was in Delhi. We used to maintain this long-distance yet-to-be-relationship by the chatting on Yahoo IM.This included listing our favourite movies (0% match), our favourite restaurants (100% match) and the occasional bickering (by her) on whether we have made the right choices. Unknown to her, I used to chat with a college friend on a parallel window. Unknown to me, she used to chat with  my father on a parallel window. (Yes, I know. Damn.)
One November evening, she asked "A hypothetical question: What if I say no now?" (Pertinent Fact: The wedding was scheduled in January.)
I pondered on this. I brought in all the available information, processed it with impeccable logic and typed my answer. "Look, if you have to say no, you might as well say it right now. We are putting in a deposit with the caterer on Friday. And that's non-refundable."
*deathly silence*  *end of chat*    
Unknown to me, she had posed the same question to my father who had ended the chat immediately. And called me up next morning at 6:15 AM.
"What have you told Tina?"
"Me? Huh? What?"
"Why does she want to break off the wedding?"
"Wha..."
"I want you to call her and apologise right now. I will say sorry to her mother."
"But I haven't..."
"Right now. Before she leaves for office."
Sigh.

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A very good friend was working in Madhya Pradesh when his wedding got fixed. He came to Calcutta for the wedding and went back to Bhopal with his wife. Since it was an arranged marriage, they were both a little diffident with each other.
Less than a week after they got back to Bhopal, there was a wedding he was invited to. His wife was also cordially invited. The two of them got on to his scooter and reached the wedding venue. As soon as they entered (and as is the norm in small-town India), the new couple was effusively greeted and the ladies took away his friend's wife to the 'ladies' area'.
My friend went and hung around with the guys, chatted a bit, congratulated the groom and then walked over to have dinner. After dinner, he said his goodbyes and went off. As he was starting his scooter, he had this niggling feeling that there was something missing - specifically from the back seat! He rushed back, found his poor bride sitting coyly in the ladies' area getting thoroughly bored and making a huge effort not to show it.
He casually asked her to come over for dinner, picked up a plate once again, ignored the strange glances of the catering staff and saved his marriage.

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After Bangalore (where we also started our married life, quite like Yash & Vijay), I took up a job in Hyderabad.
We found ourselves a nice flat in a small but beautiful complex - which had only one flaw. The calling bell of the flat had a horrendous music ("Tong ling ting tong ding dong hong kong mombasa mogadishu") which was followed by a request in upcountry Telugu accent ("Aw-pain thaa dawr pliss..."). Our friends spent large parts of their time at our flat, outside the flat trying out the bell and ROFLOLing. We were quite convinced this bell was one-of-a-kind, designed to test our sanity.
I went on tour to Chennai and stayed in a nice studio apartment. When the room service rang the bell, I was horrified beyond belief to find that the hotel bell was EXACTLY the same as our flat bell. This gave me an idea.
I called my wife. "Where are you?"
"I am at Lily's. Why?"
"I am home. Waiting outside the flat."
"What rubbish? You were supposed to return tomorrow."
"No yaar. I was supposed to return today."
"You are lying."
"Offoh... here, listen to the bell."
Before the whole cacophony died down and the Telugu aunty could complete her door-opening spiel, my poor wife had left her friend's place and scrambled back home. As I rolled on the hotel floor, clutching my stomach and wiping tears.
I cannot tell you of my wife's reaction since this is supposed to be a funny story. 
But an interesting observation: Every woman who has heard this story has lamented my wife's ill luck. Every man has complimented me on my sense of humour. I have a feeling Yash and Vijay will not behave differently. 

3

The last three books I read were by three charming ladies, two of whom I have the privilege of knowing. (I have exchanged tweets with the third but cannot pretend to be too chummy.) 

The Taj Conspiracy is India's answer to Dan Brown's mytho-religious thrillers. Manreet Sodhi Someshwar has created a very intriguing detective - Mehrunnisa Khosa. A beautiful woman of Sikh-Persian descent, she throws up when confronted with a horrendously dirty police station but manages to escape a murderer and solve a historical linguistic puzzle. I tried to imagine who would play the detective in a movie version and came up with Gul Panag. Though, there is a twist in the end that makes the book - to my mind - unfilmable.  
Oh - and did I tell you Manreet has written Earning the Laundry Stripes? Which is to FMCG salesmen what towels are to galactic hitchhikers. My review (or rather, ecstatic outpouring) here

Monsoon Wedding Fever is by classmate from b-school, Shoma Narayanan. She used to be Mukherji then but married a tall, not-dark, handsome Tam Brahm to become Narayanan. 
Let me admit this is my first Mills & Boon and I did not know what to expect. For starters, I expected a little more - ahem - sex. (This Fifty Shades of Grey will be the end of the world as we know it.) I also feared there might be a bit too much of the exotic since this book is getting a worldwide release. But I was pleasantly surprised to find romance in a normal, modern, Indian setting. Admittedly, I chuckled a bit at the heroine's 'limpid eyes' and the hero's 'gravelly voice' but a good read nevertheless.

Just Married, Please Excuse is by a colleague, Yashodhara Lal who is Yashodhara Lal Sharma in real life. Before she went on sabbatical, she used to be in the adjacent cubicle and chided me on my jokes. Now, she cracks worse ones.
Not really a novel, JMPE is a thinly (or not at all) veiled account of Yash's life with a total rockstar - Vijay Sharma. He handles rural sales, he forgets luggage at airports, he confuses Kevin Kline with Calvin Klein and he calls Yash Mithun-da (not always, sometimes). Yash has a deadpan sense of humour (which I like) but I liked Vijay even more. He totally rocked the book though my wife had a couple of 'yeh kya bakwaas hai' moments with him. 
End result: for the "price of a Subway salad" (as Yash puts it), you get a book that keeps you chuckling all the way through.  

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While I am it, I might as well tom-tom my own book a little with the help of three ladies. Three more ladies? Well yes, three of India's leading critics have only had kind things to say about KAT. 
Anupama Chopra, Indian Express' Shubhra Gupta and Rediff.com's Sukanya Verma all seem to have read the book and - hallelujah - even gifting and recommending it. 
Ab aap log issi mein convince ho gaye hain ya main aur boloon?


* * * * * * 
By the way, you know the full form of KAT, right? Repeat after me.
Kharido. (Buy)
Achchha bolo. (Praise)
Tohfe mein do. (Gift)
And yes, do move on from one stage to the next. (Three stages, again. Cool, no?)


Mera kuch saamaan...

Some random bits of trivia - which I don't know what to do with... 

* * * * *
India's two highest grossing movies are both:
- produced by a Chopra
- the directors' third feature film
- acted in by a Khan
- acted in by a lead actress whose initials are KK
- about a lead character's popular name not being his real name

* * * * *
Research topics in Bollywood are really eclectic. 
'Prasiddha arthashastri' Professor Rele has written a shodhgrantha on the 'per capita income of the backward tribes of Maharashtra', which Ramprasad Sharma found to be excellent. 
Samar Pratap Singh (Ranbir Kapoor) of Rajneeti was working on his PhD when he got embroiled in his family's problems. His doctoral thesis was on "The subtextual emotional violence of 19th century Victorian poetry". Whew! 
This reminded me of Meghey Dhaka Tara. Sanat - Nita's wimp boyfriend - was planning to do a research before the lure of lucre too over. His topic was 'Reynolds' Number of the supersonic vibrations of the Lower Gangetic Plain'. As a student of Mechanical Engineering, I was much tickled to find a 'technical term' in a classic film.  

* * * * * 
I was watching Ek Tha Tiger when I realised the most common name for Indian spies is - hold your breath - Gopal/Gopi.
No, Salman's real name wasn't that. He was a macho member of a warrior tribe: Avinash Singh Rathore. Ranvir Shorey was Gopi. Jeetendra in Farz was Gopal a.k.a. Agent 116. Gunmaster G9 was Gopi.
On a related note, do take a look at Gunmaster G9's car. It steamrolls the Batmobile, chews it up, digests it and then shits it out like bullets in Gopi's Gun.


Happy Birthday, Anirban!

9/11 is also my friend Anirban's birthday. Since he dislikes any discussion of his academic/professional achievements, I thought I'd write about some of his other exploits which are much more fun than "elucidation of mechanisms of DNA interrogation employed by DNA glycosylases".

The title - in Harry Potter style - of the story is:
Anirban Banerjee and the Last Resort 
(In Bengali, it could be Anirban O Aakhree Raastaa)

Anirban stayed at his maternal grandfather's house opposite Deshapriya Park, a location made attractive by the presence of future landmarks like Mona Lisa Guest House, tea shops like Maharani and cinema halls like Priya & Menaka.
In the later part of 1980, our cinematic choices were rather limited and our choice of devotion even more so. We never had the Big B. We had the Only B. For us, any Amitabh Bachchan release was no less than the sighting of the Halley's Comet and Anirban was a true believer.
(Pertinent Point: Anirban's father is one of India's greatest astronomers.)

On one monsoon morning in 1986, Amitabh Bachchan's magnum opus Aakhree Raastaa opened in Menaka. This was known to all of us and Anirban had planned for it.
Several days ahead, Anirban had informed his guardian angle (a.k.a. guardian uncle a.k.a. Boromamu) that he would be going to study Geometry at Probal Sengupta's house. Probal was a really sweet classmate of ours who had two winning qualities - (1) He stayed within walking distance of Anirban's house, (2) He was not known (read: untraceable) in Anirban's household. This innocent and studious request had been immediately accepted.
When Anirban - along with the rest of Calcutta - awoke that morning, they were greeted by what The Telegraph would call 'the heaviest downpour of 72 years' in the next day's paper. Half of Calcutta and all of Deshapriya Park were underwater, with water stretching to Anirban's waist (and my chin, if we were adults but we were still in our early teens). Having seen this glimpse of a future movie called 2012, Anirban pretended to study and prayed for the rains to stop. The downpour became heavier.

After a nervous lunch (around 2:30 PM), Anirban went up to Boromamu and declared that he was leaving.
Boromamu did a double take.
Anirban reminded that he was supposed to go to Probal Sengupta's house to study Geometry.
Boromamu pointed out that Euclid himself would have stayed at home on a day like this.
Anirban replied that Euclid didn't need to pass exams in Geometry.
In short, Anirban made the point that if the deluge did indeed end Calcutta as we knew it, he would like to die after knowing the area of an isosceles triangle.
Boromamu - being sharp as a Samurai scimitar himself - smelt not only a rat but all of Hamelin and let him go. Yes, you read that correctly. Boromamu let Anirban go. But as Anirban waded his way towards Menaka, Boromamu followed him!
(I always thought that if Anirban's life is made into a film, only Hrishikesh Mukherjee, Amol Palekar and Utpal Dutt should be involved.)
Boromamu followed Anirban all the way to Menaka and arrested him just short of Menaka's lobby. Anirban calmly accepted the court's verdict but pleaded that since he had bought the ticket and had come this far, the punishment may please be deferred till Amitabh Bachchan had satisfactorily decimated Sadashiv Amrapurkar.
As you would have guessed by now, Boromamu agreed.
Who knows? He may be an Amitabh Bachchan fan himself.

* * * * * * * * * *
Two more stories about watching two iconic films - Hum and Basic Instinct - are left for another day.  

Book Review: Death In Mumbai

If there is someone suited to write a book on the Maria Susairaj episode, it is Meenal Baghel. She is the Editor of Mumbai Mirror (the Maximum City's breathless chronicler of sensational stories) and this tale was just written for a tabloid. Love (or lust), death (or murder), obsessive lovers (or jealous lovers), it had it all and after a Ram Gopal Verma movie on the subject, the sleaziness of the story was not in doubt at all.

I picked up the book with a bit of apprehension, though. We know the girl and her boyfriend murdered her part-time lover. Open and shut case, despite a bit of initial bumbling by the Mumbai Police. How do you build a 229-page book around it? Baghel approaches it quite cleverly though. After the initial description of the crime and the victim going 'missing', she changes track and goes into the background of the key players as well as the key situations/settings.
Ekta Kapoor and her chaotic production company occupies a large part of the book. While Maria Susairaj and Emile Jerome's lives in Mysore are the back-story of the crime and directly linked to it, Ekta Kapoor was supposed to be just a passing background. Instead, Baghel portrays Balaji Telefilms as a magnet for hundreds (if not thousands) of small-town youngsters who land up in Mumbai every single day in the hope of stardom. It is against this high-pressure Holy Grail that the high-stakes games of casting couches, false promises and eventual heartbreaks are played out.
Death In Mumbai builds this background deftly but strongly for us to realise that why it is almost 'natural' to kill off a casting assistant because he took advantage of a girl after promising her a role. It also explains the ambition of small towns really well though it tends to drag a bit after a point. The shortcoming of the book is the belabouring of the small-town back stories to establish the motivations of the victim and the two accomplices. We know the murder has happened. We know who the murderer is. We want to get on with the investigation and unravel the 'mystery'.

But despite that, the story remains gripping. The side characters, who remain on the periphery, contribute only nuggets to narrative (and the police investigation) and make us realise how difficult it must be to trace witnesses and build a case (outside Criminal Minds, that is). Despite the Mumbai Police's initial reluctance and bumbling, they are clearly the heroes (identified by name) who solve the seemingly simple case with relentless groundwork and interrogation.

You could argue that here is a story that is nearly five years old and we all know the outcome. Why a book on it?
Think. A woman and her boyfriend killed her lover in her flat. And before chopping his body in small pieces, they had sex in the blood-splattered room. Then, they disposed off the body and feigned complete ignorance for several weeks before relentless police investigation exposed them. If this story doesn't get a book, what will? 

Have we heard this before? (Updated)

Scroll down to read the additions.

Quiz question: Which legendary film-star said the line: "Hum jahan khade hote hain, line wohi se shuru hoti hain"?
Of course, not. If you have an iota of faith in my grey matter, you wouldn't say Amitabh Bachchan. Oh - you did? Well, you should buy yourself a good book on Bollywood trivia and mug it up. *end of commercial break*
You see, what Amitabh said in Kaalia was - "Hum bhi woh hain jo kabhi kissi ke peechhe nahin khade hote. Jahan khade ho jaate hain, line wohi se shuru hoti hain." This was a retort to the original line said by Bob Christo a minute before Amitabh stole his thunder. 
For ready reference, watch the scene here.

This got me thinking about other lines/sequences that have happened earlier but we remember only the later - more popular versions. 

Some time back, I had blogged about a father-son duo who gave the same advice three decades apart. 
Abhishek Bachchan, in an Idea advertisement, thought the best advice a doctor can give to a patient was to exercise and be healthy. His father - in the role of Dr Bhaskar Banerjee - told one of his hypochondriac patients the same thing. (Watch here, from 14:30 onwards.)
Like father, like son! 

In recent times, I have heard several debates about a particular sequence in Kahaani was a tribute or a lift. Knowing the popularity of the earlier sequence and Sujoy Ghosh's penchant for tributes, I'd like to believe it is the former. 
Well, you know about the 'running hot water' in Mona Lisa Guest House. Duh, of course you do! 
And now you do where the original came from. Watch here, from 12:30 onwards. Actually, watch the whole damn thing. Its too good! 

This whole thought got triggered when I saw a scene in Lakshya.
I remembered a scene in Chak De India where an Indian national cricketer thought an Indian national hockey player was wasting time by playing hockey. You could look at it from the POV that hockey gets bullied by cricket in India. Or you could look at it as a woman's career never being seen as important as the man's. 
A TV journalist (Preity Zinta) told her fiancee that she intended to cover the Kargil war. The hitherto liberal dude suddenly turned all possessive and defended his travels as "yeh mera kaam hain..." while refusing to acknowledge her work as anything serious. (Watch here, from 7:44 onwards).   

Which brings us to yet another legendary dialogue (5:00 onwards) about kapkapati raaton mein, dhadakti dilon ki bhadakti hui aag bujhane ka. As Jeevan told Prem, ladka ladki kabhi dost nahin hote...
About twenty years, yet another brilliant character actor (Asrani) told us the same thing in a different tone. Watch here, from 9:20 onwards.  

So, can you think of any more? 

UPDATED TO ADD TWO MORE:
"Main tumse aur sirf tumse pyaar karta hoon. Meri har saans, meri har dhadkan, mere har pal mein tum ho aur sirf tum ho. Mujhe yakeen hai ki main sirf is liye janma hoon ke tum se pyaar kar sakoo aur tum sirf is liye ke meri ban jao. Tum meri ho, Shalini, aur agar tum apni dil se poochhogi toh jaan logi ke main sach keh raha hoon."
In Dil Chahta Hai, Aamir Khan delivered exactly the same lines to the same person - Preity Zinta about two hours apart. But the tone, the emotion, the style was so radically different that it could have been from two different films altogether. (Watch here. From 23:00 and 2:44:00.)

And of course, the Greatest Film Ever Made had two counter-pointing, criss-crossing lines about the power of hands.
Inspector Baldev Singh arrested dreaded dacoit Gabbar Singh and ominously declared, "Yeh haath nahin, phaansi ka phanda hai..." Tragically, the tables were turned very soon enough and the Inspector stood helpless in Gabbar's den. Gabbar Singh taunted by repeating those lines, "...Yaad hain, Thakur, kya kahe tha tum? Yeh haath nahin, phaansi ka phanda hai. Dekh, phanda khul gaya.." 
And in a macabre act of vengeance, he said, "Yeh haath humko de de, Thakur..." In the climax, Thakur orchestrated such that he was face to face with Gabbar and soon, the dreaded dacoit was lying helpless at his feet. And this time, it was his turn to repeat Gabbar's lines before extracting revenge, "Bahut jaan hain in haathon mein... yeh haath mujhe de de, Gabbar...."
Goosebumps. Nearly forty years after the film, still.

* * * * * *
Do check out my publishers on Facebook and Twitter (both WestlandBooks). They are uploading some trivia and stuff from KAT* over the next couple of weeks. 
And psst... there seems to be some prizes and stuff for doing Bollywoody things.  

* Gentle Reminder: KAT = Kitnay Aadmi Thay = Kharido. Achha bolo. Tohfe mein do. 

My Life In Amitabh Bachchan

My (maternal) grandmother was the first Amitabh Bachchan fan in the family.
When India was infatuated with Rajesh Khanna, she saw Bachchan in a magazine and paid him the ultimate compliment in her book. "Wish I get a son-in-law like him", she said. This was around Anand and the angry police inspector of Zanjeer still 24 issues of Stardust away. Her daughters and nieces had laughed at her poor taste. 

A Quick Aside: Sometime in the late 80s, we were watching a TV serial called Circus and she perked up at the sight of the bushy-haired hero. "What a smart boy. Shonabhai (that's her name for me), you should get your trousers stitched like his." Yes, she would have been Yash Chopra if she had been in Bollywood. I am getting her to see a Ranbir Kapoor film soon enough.

My father was the second Amitabh Bachchan fan. One Sunday afternoon in 1975, he gave up his siesta and asked my mother along to accompany him to watch a new film called Deewaar. I never found out what prompted him to do so but for his entire life, the discussion of his favourite movies started and ended with only one line - "Main aaj bhi phneke hue paise nahin uthata..."

I was the Johnny-come-lately to the Amitabh Bachchan party. 
Born in 1974, Bachchan's best films happened and his phenomenon unfolded when I was a toddler. The famous India Today cover story that called him the 'One Man Industry' happened before I could read properly. When Manmohan Desai called him a 'Halley's Comet' and ranked him ‘Nos. 1 to 10’, it was before I could devour film magazines on my own.  

When I was growing up, stories about Bachchan and his films were all around me. 
My father told me about the searing intensity of Deewaar. My mother told me how tickets to his movies sold 'in black' at astronomical prices. Elder friends told me about loose change swept off cinema floors. I remember hearing that he charged Rs 70 lakhs per film and tried to write the figure in numerals.

We spent our summer vacations at my grandparents’ place in Dibrugarh, a town in Assam. My theatre experiences of watching Amitabh Bachchan started there when I was an infant. A manservant used to take me to watch Sholay while pretending that he was taking me for an evening walk. We watched the film daily in Jyotsna theatre, where the usher benevolently allowed him and his Munna-babu inside day after day.

I was not taken for Muqaddar Ka Sikandar but I cried so much that my grandfather took pity on me and we entered the theatre when Zohra was dying in Sikandar's arms. Because I got scared by the first scenes of The Great Gambler and forced my mother to take me home half-way through it, she ditched me for Shaan. And consoled me by saying that it was really bad. 

Then, he died. 
My grandmother came back from her evening walk and flatly announced "Amitabh Bachchan mara gechhen". I was just beginning to like him. I hadn't watched too many films. I remember Yaraana and Barsaat Ki Ek RaatAn EP record of Mr Natwarlal was my staple afternoon hearing. Any actor who could sing so nicely for children had to be a nice guy.  
And here, he was dead. 

A picture in Sunday magazine showed him slumped on a chair immediately after the accident. That magazine and many others recounted his many achievements, his dogged determination, his rise to stardom. They were all premature obituaries of India's biggest superstar. Or maybe that's when they coined a new term – Megastar. I became an avowed Bachchan fan because I got to see his entire life's magic capsuled into those few pages. 

I always feel Amitabh Bachchan the human being died in that accident and Big B the Superstar was born.
Because the films that came just after that were really bad and would have got hooted out of the theatres if they starred anybody else. The objective of those films was to cash in on Bachchan (without script or novelty) and they raised his legend to the levels of our mythology. 

The shooting scene in Coolie, where he collapsed magnificently atop the minarets of Haji Ali. The meaningless triple role of Mahaan. The extended guest appearance of Andhaa Kaanoon. The trigger-happy Chief Minister in Inquilaab. These were epic roles that were like all the ten avatars of Vishnu rolled into one. He did action, emotion, comedy, romance, song, dance, preservation, destruction all in one go and almost not pausing for breath.  

By the time he did his first superhero film (where he wore a black leather costume, embellished by a salt-and-pepper beard and a strange arm-guard made of chains), his position in the pantheon of Indian gods was guaranteed. For a long time, the person I hated most in this world was a friend's innocent elder brother – whose only crime was to have watched Shahenshah on the first day, first show.

In 1984, Bachchan stood for election and defeated a former UP Chief Minister on his home turf. I remember his victory announcement during a soporific bulletin on Doordarshan. My interest in that election began when he announced his candidature and ended with that bulletin. HN Bahuguna – stung by this betrayal – famously told his constituency that they had abandoned him for a nach-gaana wala.
You were up against a Superman, sir.

More accurately, Supremo.
A comic book series started with Bachchan having a super-hero alter-ego. The book I had was about a plane full of children getting hijacked. Amitabh Bachchan the actor dashed out of his makeup van, flew down to his island hideaway with his falcon Shaheen and dolphin Sona, morphed into Supremo and saved the day.
I cannot think of too many film stars getting their own comic books.

Around then, an honest man called VP Singh started saying Amitabh Bachchan ‘ne paisa khaya hain’. The allegations were quite vague but every newspaper or magazine I picked up seemed to have some new 'angle' of his involvement. Everybody was convinced of his guilt. I was not. It is strange but without any fact to back me up, I was convinced of his innocence. How can Vijay do anything wrong?

Between 1987 and 1992, I put together a scrapbook of his pictures cut out from newspapers and magazines and lovingly pasted on multi-coloured pages. I remember thinking of that book as my shrine. I had accepted that my favourite actor would be hounded out of the industry and probably thrown into jail. When the Prime Minister decides a man is guilty, what chance does he have? That was my memento.

I was used to seeing normal men. But superheroes did not give up. Just like he took bullets on his chest and still managed to throw villains off skyscrapers, he took on the press, the political system and the Prime Minister in a hugely unequal battle. I found it extremely touching that he had ignored the allegations and decided to fight back only when his father seemed shaken by it.

Around then, several new actors staked claim to the No. 1 spot and film magazines put them on the covers. Jackie Shroff was the first contender but when Allah Rakha (originally planned with Bachchan) flopped, he receded. Anil Kapoor made a bid with a slew of successes like Tezaab, Ram Lakhan and Parinda but when his bad films flopped, people realised he was an excellent star but not the inheritor.

The true mark of Bachchan's talent that distinguished him from Jackie, Anil, Mithun, SRK, Aamir, Hrithik or just about anybody else was that none of these stars could ever salvage a bad film. Bachchan could. And Bachchan did.
The biggest contradiction of my fandom is that I dislike most of Bachchan's films. An overwhelming majority of his films are very bad and he is the only flawless thing in them. 

SRK delivered Baazigar and Darr but when the formula collapsed (Anjaam), so did he. Aamir Khan broke records with JJWS but couldn't prop up Mela. Hrithik reached an extreme where he cannot deliver with anyone other than his father.
Post-Coolie, Amitabh Bachchan did Sharaabi, Inquilaab, Aakhree Raasta, Mard, Gangaa Jamunaa Saraswathi and Shahenshah. Except for Aakhree Raasta, all of them were bad and yet broke every record that there was.

Amitabh Bachchan’s biggest success was that fact that he not only made utterly crappy movies bearable, he made them memorable. If you see films like Desh Premee today, it will be difficult not to cringe. But you cannot fault Bachchan's performances in any of those. He brought the right mix of drama and restraint to the roles to make you forget the remote when they play on TV even now.

I have done several crazy things to watch the films of Amitabh Bachchan. I have heard the dialogue cassette of Agneepath so many times that it tore. I was almost lathi-charged before Hum. I left an end-term exam unfinished to be on time for Indrajeet’s matinee show. I walked out of a meeting with a prospective bride to watch Aks. I watched two successive shows of Ek Ajnabee - alone. 

Though the craziest thing was to have done first day viewings of his post-1992 movies. Mrityudaata, Insaaniyat, Major Saab, Suryavansham, Kohraam, Lal Badshah. They were all stupendously bad. In Mrityudaata, there was a scene in which he kicked a villain off the third floor and he landed straight into an oven (tandoor?), thus burning to cinders. You should have seen how amazingly he performed the pre-fight diatribe in that scene.  

I started to underestimate him again and wished that 'father' roles be written for him (but not painful ones like Mohabbatein) when he changed the screen I was used to seeing him on. For the very first episode of KBC, I rushed over to a colleague's house since it was closer from office to watch Bachchan make a graceful turn and give away crores of rupees to simple, everyday people.

He – with KBC – became to TV what he was to the box-office all his life: the benchmark. Even today, when Salman does his spontaneous tomfoolery or Aamir does his orchestrated sentimentality, newspapers dig out the ratings of KBC and pronounce what I knew all along – they newer ones don't quite match up. In fact, he sometimes get excited by this and rattles off the number himself (which is quite disconcerting). 

I watch KBC for the interactions. The warmth with which he treats contestants is wonderful beyond words. My favourite moment was when a lady returned for her second episode and Bachchan asked if she thought about the money she had won. I didn’t think about the money, she said. “Toh phir aapne kya socha?” “Aap ke baare mein…”, the lady giggled. A 60+ year old blushing on national television? Priceless.    

Post-KBC, he exploded his repertoire. After one decade of angry-young-man and two decades of angry-young-singing-dancing-romancing-joking-man, he started having fun. Boom, for example. Katrina Kaif's debut that drove Jackie to his maushi's you-know-what had Bachchan playing a Mafia don (romancing Bo Derek) with hysterical WTFness. His Babban act in Ram Gopal Verma Ki Aag is, of course, legendary. Bunty Aur Babli, KANK, Aladin were all exuberant roles in decidedly mediocre films.    

Simultaneously, some films focused almost entirely on him. With those, he didn't just hit them out of the park but out of the colony as well. Khakee, Dev, Black, Sarkar, The Last Lear, Nishabdall had such powerhouse performances that it is difficult to imagine all of them came so close together. After decades of being ridiculed as a nach-gaana wala, he showed what heights of acting he could scale. 

In the last decade, I have been least regular in watching his films. I watched most of them on TV or DVD with many interruptions. And yet, he manages to catch attention and does not let go. He manages to charm audiences and hard-nosed journalists alike. Arnab Goswami becomes a fawning wimp when he interviews Bachchan. Anupama Chopra giggles like a schoolgirl. Shekhar Gupta smiles indulgently when he is answering.

Funnily, it was never ‘cool’ to be a Bachchan fan. In the 1980s, everybody was one.  In the 1990s, nobody was one. In the 2000s, his sincerity seems to have a strange anachronistic tinge to it. His devotion to his online extended family is the antithesis to the use-and-throw policy most cool people adopt. His incessant retweets of praise for Abhishek’s films is deemed desperate. He is just not cool.

And of course, his performances – however legendary – never seem to attract the gushing newer actors get for their ‘method acting’. His effortless sign-language in Black is no match for Barfi. His Paa gets missed in front of a Guzaarish. But I guess I have grown used to having him for myself. Though – for the life of me – I cannot figure who these three million people crowding him on Twitter are!

For me, there are still so many things I want to see him do. 
He has to romance Madhuri Dixit.
He has to play Atticus Finch, directed by Anurag Kashyap.
He has to act in Dirty Rotten Scoundrels with Rajnikanth.
He has to act in Bridges of Madison County with Sridevi.  
He has to act in a film that will wow my son.
He is only seventy, for God's sake.

Inconsequential Trivia: Each paragraph in this post has 70 words. 

The Amitabh Bachchan Quiz

The good folks at Mad About Moviez (and my friend, Sethu in particular) have hosted an Amitabh Bachchan quiz that I have done. So, you could answer it here on the blog or hop across to their site. 

1. To start with an easy one: which is the first film in which Amitabh Bachchan received on-screen credit?

2. When was Amitabh Bachchan supposed to play the role of Judge Lawrence Wargrave and why did he end up not playing it?

3. What was Amitabh’s qualification in Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham? And from where did he get that qualification?

Image may be NSFW.
Clik here to view.
4. Explain the connection of this flower to AB.








5. What is common to Anand, Manzil, Kabhi Kabhie and Baghban?

6. Which stalwart presented the Filmfare Lifetime Achievement Award to Amitabh Bachchan?

7. In the early 1980s, Jaya Bachchan referred to someone as her ‘souten’. Who was this person?

Image may be NSFW.
Clik here to view.
8. Explain the connection of his precious gem to AB.











9. Orissa Minerals Development Company is currently listed on BSE at a price of approximately Rs 44500 per share (of Rs 10), which is among the highest share prices in the country. In 2011, Rashtriya Ispat Nigam bought a 51% stake in the holding company of OMDC. How is this linked to Amitabh Bachchan?



10. Name this character and explain the slight blooper.









ANSWERS
Okay, first the bad news... There were only 11 entries. The good news, however, is the answers were really detailed and well thought. Net net, only the people who knew everything (or could Google it *heh heh*) answered. Sigh... I was really hoping for some innocent entries!
Only two of them were on the blog and the rest were on mail. Mr Abhishek Mukherjee decided to take no risks and mailed his answer to all three of my email IDs he knew!

Without much ado, here are the answers.
1. Bhuvan Shome, it is. Universally correct. His first screen credit was 'Amitabh'.
2. He was supposed to play this pivotal character from Agatha Christie's And Then There Were None in his final year at Sherwood. He had won the Kendall Prize for acting in the previous year and if he won it again, it would have set a record. Unfortunately, he caught measles and was unable to perform. His father kept him company in the school infirmary and said a beautiful line to console him - "Man ka ho toh achha. Man ka na ho toh zyada achha..."
3. He was an MBA from King's College, London. Inferred from the line Hrithik Roshan spoke about doing an MBA from London was about following a family tradition.
4. That flower is from the Singapore Orchid Garden and is called Dendrobium Amitabh Bachchan.
5. These are names of books written by Amitabh Bachchan and NOT films in which he wrote books. The difference is because Manzil was the name of the book he wrote in Ek Nazar.
6. Sunil Gavaskar
7. Shashi Kapoor, who co-starred with AB in a million films
8. That diamond is called the Millennium Star (though not in honour of the Star of the Millennium)
9. The holding company of OMDC is Bird Group, where AB worked as a freight broker while in Calcutta
10. The name of the character - as Rajni says in the Hindi version of Shivaji: The Boss - was Abhiram Bachchan while all the ID proofs show AB Bachchan. You could argue this is fine and this fictitous Abhiram had a middle name starting with B but there's only one AB Senior in this world, okay?

And here are the contestants:
Anonymous                         4.0
Straight Cut, Subbu             5.0
Kaushik Ray, ABbaby         7.0
DS, VinBin, AKBose          8.0
Digant, Abhishek                 9.0
Kinjal Mandawat                 9.5 (given 0.5 points and declared topper for the super-detailed answers)

Digant, Abhishek and Kinjal - Congratulations! Mail me your postal addresses to send you a copy of the book. This promotional tactic seems to have backfired spectacularly because two of the three winners already have the book! Sigh... Gift the book to somebody who would love it and ask them to promote it mercilessly.

The Goddess on Silver Screen: Durga Pujo in Cinema

Two Bengali associations of the USA reached me through different contacts and asked me to write a piece for their Durga Puja souvenirs. I wrote the following piece for the Bengali Association of St Louis, scheduled to appear in their souvenir - Punascha. 

* * * * * * *
This is a somewhat quirky and definitely incomplete list of the Goddess’ appearance in Hindi and Bengali cinema. As would be evident, my personal biases are very clear. The idea is to stir the readers’ memories and get them to think of their own favourites. And smile a bit.  

Durga Puja was probably most central to the plot of Joy Baba Felunath where our favourite crime-solving trio landed up in Benaras for a holiday during Pujo. As they went about finding a priceless Ganesh idol, well-loved vignettes of the probashi Pujo came alive. Display of body-building in a variety programme. The community play at Bengali Club. The idol makers who put their life into the pran of the protima. And of course, the King of Africa who took the Ganesh to Atlantis. The mystery unfolded and was solved in the few days of the festival as each element of the celebrations – from the construction of the idol to its immersion – played an important part in the plot, supplying vital clues to our favourite detective.
The community play during Pujo was a favourite motif of Ray’s. In Nayak, Arindam Mukherjee was acting in the lead of one such play under his mentor’s direction when he received a film offer. The turmoil that the offer brought about was resolved in a rather gruesome manner when his mentor collapsed while trying to lift the Durga idol for bisarjan. Arindam’s rise to stardom was kicked off by the Goddess herself.  

Rituparno Ghosh’s Utsab traced the different branches of a dysfunctional family who had assembled at the family home to celebrate – rather unwillingly – Durga Pujo. Old affairs, financial messes and strained relationships were revealed in the six days of their stay. The ensemble cast delivered a stellar performance battling their inner demons as Maa Durga battled the more obvious one.
Rituparno also paid a tribute to two stalwarts of Bengali cinema when he referenced two iconic images of the Goddess. In one scene, it was mentioned that the traditional Puja vessels of the family had been requisitioned by Satyajit Ray for Debi. And in another, an aspiring filmmaker in the family reminded us that Aparna Sen’s Parama opened with the image of Durga’s face caught in a Nikon’s viewfinder.

The Goddess made two guest appearances in Shakti Samanta’s films – each with a different superstar.
Amar Prem closed with Vinod Mehra coming back to pick up his ‘mother’ (Sharmila Tagore) as Rajesh Khanna looked on with tears of joy. This homecoming of his mother coincided with Durga Puja and the film ended with the auspicious images of the Mother Goddess.
The other superstar paid a song length tribute to the Goddess in Barsaat Ki Ek Raat (also made in Bengali as Anusandhan) when he challenged villain Amjad Khan to a dhaak-playing competition. Amitabh Bachchan not only played the dhaak, he also did the arati and finally requested Maa Durga to polish off this villain too!

Bollywood’s best ode to Durga Puja happened in Kahaani.
A pregnant South Indian woman came to Calcutta looking for her Bengali husband as the city was preparing to welcome Maa Durga. The familiar sights and sounds of the festival formed a rich backdrop to the thriller as authentic locations and brilliant actors from the Bengali film industry made a lovely tapestry. The familiar lal-paar shari – traditionally worn by married women – became a symbol of the quest for Vidya Bagchi’s husband. The unexpected and thrilling climax played out in the crowded Dashami celebrations of Triangular Park. And the mystery of the missing husband as well as the horror of a terrorist attack just dissolved in the sea of lal-paar sharis, sindoor and blessings of the departing Goddess.

As a final aside, it would be interesting to mention an advertisement.
If we get past the culture shock of Soumitra Chatterjee holding a cola bottle, Thums Up paid an affectionate tribute to the slowly vanishing banedi barir pujo of Calcutta. A bunch of well-meaning, Thums Up-swigging youngsters revived their dadur pujo, putting lots of cola bottles and cans to good use. The story was far-fetched. The sentiment was not: Ebar jombe mawja!
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