Having experienced the life long rift between expectations and experience of movies, a significant risk is involved in going to the theatres for watching movies. Over a short span of embarrassing-to-reveal years, one has watched movie goers move from cheap theatres to multiplexes. While the comfort, perfumes and short skirts might be appealing, I prefer watching movies in a cheap standalone theatre.
The ticket counter guy is actually accessible to you and doesn't employ a microphone and speaker to converse with someone standing a foot away. Also, he doesn't question the clarity of your speech:
You: "ABC movie. 4PM show. Chaar tickets."
Ticket guy: "ABC. 4PM. Four tickets. Are you sure?" [Yes, they speak English.]
This is also the moment when you question your decision to come for the movie. After you convince the guy, he shows you your seats in the screen(hall) on his screen. If he is fine with you being fine with it, he prints the tickets on the "Brand Equity" paper quality - in triplicate. In the same time, the old style movie hall ticket issuer would have dealt with five people with a short review like, "Bakwas picture hai" or "Jaldi andar jaao...Pehle 10 mins mein hi asli scene hai."
For me, watching a movie is not about stuffing yourself with junk at 500% premium and spreading silent cheap farts. What makes a crappy movie bearable is the people around you. And no. I am not talking about the pleasure derived from brushing hands with the girl sitting next to you.
While a loudly uttered word is against the unwritten law of multiplexes, cheap movie halls score high in this regard. Watching movies in a small theatre is a large-scale equivalent of an off class at school.
Every action on screen has an instant reaction from the masses. People don't suppress themselves from singing, "Vicco turmeric.. nahi cosmetic". FTII short films are acknowledged with claps (understandably to thank heavens for their short duration). Even the scratchy anthem film is responded with a "Bharat Mata ki.." appeal. Whistle blowers are not punished by menacing looks and Shoosh's of people around. Some signature responses from the audience are:
A romantic moment (actors come close to each other) gets the reactions "Abe door reh usse...meri hai woh", "Dekhna bhaai aaraam se...", "Arey chhote bachhe hai yaha pe..." and so on.
One gets the feeling that the audience wants to see roses kissing instead of actors. However, if really roses are shown to be kissing, the audience reacts with an "Arey kuchh to dikhaao!"
Recently, sad moments have started to get the reaction "Arey bus kar pagli... rulaaegi kya?" or in case of Abhishek Bachchan, "Arey bus kar pagle... hasaayega kya?"
A long lull in the movie is greeted with, "Isse achha to peechhe ki seat waala movie hai."
Movies might be watched best in posh multiplexes. But you watch them best in these old style movie halls.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
They're on the Sun's side
The hot Indian summer reminds us of our annual war with the sun. Ravi-war doesn't sound fun any more, does it? While we fuse together against this hopeless mass of nuclear fusion, some traitors have shamelessly joined hands with the viral rival:
1. Electricity boards: Electricity board employees kill their "board"om by playing a game of timing the power outage just when the mercury hits the maximum. Bonus points are scored when an outage is brought about at night. That's when I sleep on the streets in a soaked t-shirt.
2. Lizards: Their rapid summer breeding leads to rapid breeding of ill will towards them. Baby lizards, while slightly cute, hide in the most hideous places. Even Dexter Morgan fears blood splatter when he sees a lizard reaching cooler fans.
3. Seats of two-wheelers: While the summer burns our posteriors in an abstract sense, a more concrete evidence is experienced when one sits on a two-wheeler. A simple mantra then is to "Spit on the seat and then sit."
4. Some car drivers: At traffic signals, two-wheeler folks are seen waiting under tree shades 20 metres before the stop line. While this is acceptable, one struggles to find reason in car drivers indulging in this exercise. These are the people who own a lifetime stock of fairness creams.
5. Weddng Pundits: Surprisingly, these learned wise men come up with wedding dates that lie in the midst of the summer. The world must pour its pity for a baraat [ceremonious wedding procession] dancing on the streets in 45 Degrees Celcius. The groom's face says it all. One would find tying the knot of the tie more painful than the wedding knot.If you are dancing near the horse, be prepared to hear expletives straight from the horse's mouth.
In essence, our brat sun needs to calm down - at least in an effort to avoid such pieces from emergin again.
1. Electricity boards: Electricity board employees kill their "board"om by playing a game of timing the power outage just when the mercury hits the maximum. Bonus points are scored when an outage is brought about at night. That's when I sleep on the streets in a soaked t-shirt.
2. Lizards: Their rapid summer breeding leads to rapid breeding of ill will towards them. Baby lizards, while slightly cute, hide in the most hideous places. Even Dexter Morgan fears blood splatter when he sees a lizard reaching cooler fans.
3. Seats of two-wheelers: While the summer burns our posteriors in an abstract sense, a more concrete evidence is experienced when one sits on a two-wheeler. A simple mantra then is to "Spit on the seat and then sit."
4. Some car drivers: At traffic signals, two-wheeler folks are seen waiting under tree shades 20 metres before the stop line. While this is acceptable, one struggles to find reason in car drivers indulging in this exercise. These are the people who own a lifetime stock of fairness creams.
5. Weddng Pundits: Surprisingly, these learned wise men come up with wedding dates that lie in the midst of the summer. The world must pour its pity for a baraat [ceremonious wedding procession] dancing on the streets in 45 Degrees Celcius. The groom's face says it all. One would find tying the knot of the tie more painful than the wedding knot.If you are dancing near the horse, be prepared to hear expletives straight from the horse's mouth.
In essence, our brat sun needs to calm down - at least in an effort to avoid such pieces from emergin again.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
A bit about cold
Out of all the weapons that I carry, "common cold" is the most lethal. The secretions involved do little to keep it a secret. A rather nosey breed of acquaintances runs away when my nose decides to unleash terror.
Cold announces its arrival with a groin-like itch in the throat. Groin like because you cannot put your hand in there and scratch. If you are a male conversing with a female on the phone, she will consider your hoarse voice as a lame attempt at seduction. Unable to take your own abused voice, the ear gives up and starts bugging too. A Pharmacist cousin had offered a way out of this ear and throat issue. He advised to frequently swallow nothing. "Din bhar apni thookki gitak", he said. Lozenges come in really handy as their chemicals make stinging love to your throat. As a kid, I used to like Vicks a lot. Now kids have become sweeter and lozenges have become spicier. A thankful child calls me "Feeki jeans aur teekhi toffee waale bhaiyya".
After throat and ear come the killer blows from the nose. Like a batsman desperate to reach the other end, my nose never stops running. I do not remember wetting a bed (recently) but my wet handkerchieves could very well overcompensate for that. If there's one body part that can take a lot of crap, except you-know-what, it would definitely be the nose. When things got really bad at school, my co-learners used to find their shirts drenched.
Sneezing is tremendous fun to observe. Like DNA, everybody gives out a different shout before the actual act of sneezing. Like "aaak" or "hyaaa" or "eee".
I am an average table tennis player but nobody accepts my challenge when I have a runny nose. A shrewd strategist that i am, I play the softest of shots with the fiercest of body swings. The competitor waters down with shame and phlegm. Cold is useful if you have to while time waiting in queues - particularly for interviews. You can get over your nervousness by conducting a finger test to check out the stickiness of that stuff inside your nose. Some competition would be out of your way just by looking at your dedication. Before the interview, shake hands with your would-be boss with the same hand and she/he will get a hint of how well you want to stick to the organization. It's all a part of body language.
With all these amazing attributes, one wonders if it still ought to be called a "common cold". Also, I dug deep into literature to find out that "naak" is nothing but a lazy derivation of "khatarnaak".
Cold announces its arrival with a groin-like itch in the throat. Groin like because you cannot put your hand in there and scratch. If you are a male conversing with a female on the phone, she will consider your hoarse voice as a lame attempt at seduction. Unable to take your own abused voice, the ear gives up and starts bugging too. A Pharmacist cousin had offered a way out of this ear and throat issue. He advised to frequently swallow nothing. "Din bhar apni thookki gitak", he said. Lozenges come in really handy as their chemicals make stinging love to your throat. As a kid, I used to like Vicks a lot. Now kids have become sweeter and lozenges have become spicier. A thankful child calls me "Feeki jeans aur teekhi toffee waale bhaiyya".
After throat and ear come the killer blows from the nose. Like a batsman desperate to reach the other end, my nose never stops running. I do not remember wetting a bed (recently) but my wet handkerchieves could very well overcompensate for that. If there's one body part that can take a lot of crap, except you-know-what, it would definitely be the nose. When things got really bad at school, my co-learners used to find their shirts drenched.
Sneezing is tremendous fun to observe. Like DNA, everybody gives out a different shout before the actual act of sneezing. Like "aaak" or "hyaaa" or "eee".
I am an average table tennis player but nobody accepts my challenge when I have a runny nose. A shrewd strategist that i am, I play the softest of shots with the fiercest of body swings. The competitor waters down with shame and phlegm. Cold is useful if you have to while time waiting in queues - particularly for interviews. You can get over your nervousness by conducting a finger test to check out the stickiness of that stuff inside your nose. Some competition would be out of your way just by looking at your dedication. Before the interview, shake hands with your would-be boss with the same hand and she/he will get a hint of how well you want to stick to the organization. It's all a part of body language.
With all these amazing attributes, one wonders if it still ought to be called a "common cold". Also, I dug deep into literature to find out that "naak" is nothing but a lazy derivation of "khatarnaak".
Sunday, April 17, 2011
A lazybones’s letter to his parents
Dear parents,
You know how you mean the world to me. But there are a few alarming issues at hand that need to be discussed. Now that I have woken up [from my sleep and in an ideological sense], I think it would be in our mutual interest that you read this letter. Please don’t read it out aloud in my presence in front of the relatives. I have had enough experience of this kind of public hearing of my examination papers in the school.
1. Please don’t wake me up. I know how much you are concerned about my future and hence, want me to attend classes. But what’s the use? If you don’t allow me to sleep at home, I will sleep in the classes.
Also, it hurts me when you shout, “Shantibai is here. Wake up and take away your mattress.” Compared to that, a kick on my butt is relatively sweet. Do I really have to wake up because Shantibai has to clean the floor?
2. At times, I just don’t want to eat. The food is excellent. The ambience is perfect. The aroma is tempting. The coaxing is cute. But I don’t want to eat. I am evolving. Just give me time to hunt down my own roti-sabzi.
3. When you see a whole lot of stuff lying around in my room, don’t yell at me. It is there for a purpose. Soon, I will come up with the purpose but believe me, there is one. Apart from aesthetics, the whole point of keeping things inside shelves is to find them easily, right? But then I find it easy to find something when things are lying all around the floor or on the bed.
4. Don’t peep into my computer screen. When you do that, even innocent stuff becomes embarrassing. And really, it wasn’t me who changed the definition of “innocence”. It’s time you change your idea of the computer being a useful machine.
I wish to write something pleasant to end this letter but I have to catch up some sleep before the witch with the broom arrives.
With nothing but love,
You know how you mean the world to me. But there are a few alarming issues at hand that need to be discussed. Now that I have woken up [from my sleep and in an ideological sense], I think it would be in our mutual interest that you read this letter. Please don’t read it out aloud in my presence in front of the relatives. I have had enough experience of this kind of public hearing of my examination papers in the school.
1. Please don’t wake me up. I know how much you are concerned about my future and hence, want me to attend classes. But what’s the use? If you don’t allow me to sleep at home, I will sleep in the classes.
Also, it hurts me when you shout, “Shantibai is here. Wake up and take away your mattress.” Compared to that, a kick on my butt is relatively sweet. Do I really have to wake up because Shantibai has to clean the floor?
2. At times, I just don’t want to eat. The food is excellent. The ambience is perfect. The aroma is tempting. The coaxing is cute. But I don’t want to eat. I am evolving. Just give me time to hunt down my own roti-sabzi.
3. When you see a whole lot of stuff lying around in my room, don’t yell at me. It is there for a purpose. Soon, I will come up with the purpose but believe me, there is one. Apart from aesthetics, the whole point of keeping things inside shelves is to find them easily, right? But then I find it easy to find something when things are lying all around the floor or on the bed.
4. Don’t peep into my computer screen. When you do that, even innocent stuff becomes embarrassing. And really, it wasn’t me who changed the definition of “innocence”. It’s time you change your idea of the computer being a useful machine.
I wish to write something pleasant to end this letter but I have to catch up some sleep before the witch with the broom arrives.
With nothing but love,
Friday, February 11, 2011
A bit about winter
Unlike monsoon, winter doesn’t need an official arrival news from the met department. We, the lazy beings, take pride in being the first ones to notice winter’s arrival. Our sleep cycle stretches considerably and a splash of water follows a never-ending series of, “Just five more minutes.”
Winter works wonders for the easy goers. There is no need to take a bath, daily. One can easily escape the wrath of elders who claim dire consequences as a result of not subjecting oneself to the hydral trauma. One just needs to argue that the water is too cold and terribly named diseases may soon follow. Or that there’s been no sweat thanks to low temperatures. Thus, the body hasn’t earned itself a bath. On the clothes front too, one is quite safe and can practice rigorous laziness. Dirty clothes can be hid tactfully under sweaters or jackets. If shirts get unbearably dirty, one can simply go shirtless – of course, with an appropriate winter-wear.
A rare offline socializing aspect of winters is a bonfire. The cozy combo of fire and conversations produce just the right amount of warmth. You need to be careful about the toxic gases emanating from the bonfire. Bonfires are typically lit after dinners. The smoke that results from fire in the belly of humans makes them a rather bothersome source of toxic gases.
If a budding love affair peaks during the monsoon, it might soon turn out to be a bugging one. The joy of walking in the rains is soon overshadowed by the repeated trauma of washing your muddled denims. Even the symbolic exchange of handkerchiefs cannot take place as one gives a thought to the disgustful feeling that follows when we touch someone else’s wet handkerchief. And handkerchiefs never dry in the monsoon –thanks either to overcast conditions or to tears or, more importantly, to runny noses.
An honestly untried advice is to embark on the love journey towards the end of the rainy season and for the larger good of the guests, to get married in winter. With slight planning, one can ensure the child’s birth in the rainy season. Of course, parents are not criminal enough to send their kids to your child’s birthday while it rains. The huge cost of a winter wedding, thus, largely offsets the repeated cost of the child’s monsoon birthdays.
In conclusion, the three-point agenda for winters is: Love winters, get loved in winters and make love in winters.
Winter works wonders for the easy goers. There is no need to take a bath, daily. One can easily escape the wrath of elders who claim dire consequences as a result of not subjecting oneself to the hydral trauma. One just needs to argue that the water is too cold and terribly named diseases may soon follow. Or that there’s been no sweat thanks to low temperatures. Thus, the body hasn’t earned itself a bath. On the clothes front too, one is quite safe and can practice rigorous laziness. Dirty clothes can be hid tactfully under sweaters or jackets. If shirts get unbearably dirty, one can simply go shirtless – of course, with an appropriate winter-wear.
A rare offline socializing aspect of winters is a bonfire. The cozy combo of fire and conversations produce just the right amount of warmth. You need to be careful about the toxic gases emanating from the bonfire. Bonfires are typically lit after dinners. The smoke that results from fire in the belly of humans makes them a rather bothersome source of toxic gases.
If a budding love affair peaks during the monsoon, it might soon turn out to be a bugging one. The joy of walking in the rains is soon overshadowed by the repeated trauma of washing your muddled denims. Even the symbolic exchange of handkerchiefs cannot take place as one gives a thought to the disgustful feeling that follows when we touch someone else’s wet handkerchief. And handkerchiefs never dry in the monsoon –thanks either to overcast conditions or to tears or, more importantly, to runny noses.
An honestly untried advice is to embark on the love journey towards the end of the rainy season and for the larger good of the guests, to get married in winter. With slight planning, one can ensure the child’s birth in the rainy season. Of course, parents are not criminal enough to send their kids to your child’s birthday while it rains. The huge cost of a winter wedding, thus, largely offsets the repeated cost of the child’s monsoon birthdays.
In conclusion, the three-point agenda for winters is: Love winters, get loved in winters and make love in winters.
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