RIP Shammi Kapoor

If there was anybody I would have considered 'cool' in the 1950s and 1960s era of Hindi cinema, it would be Shammi Kapoor.
My earliest memories of him was on this show called Movie Mahal that would be aired on Channel 4 in the United Kingdom.
The show opened with a creepy old man wearing a dark blue kurta and beads talking about something. And then it would move to this guy dancing and sliding down the snow, screaming 'Yahoo!'
When my brother and sister tried explaining that the two people were the same person, I refused to believe them.
But that was Shammi Kapoor's life.
From the cool dude, he became the reclusive hermit after Geeta Bali's death. He made rare public appearances , but still became the first Indian to have an Internet connection in 1996 when there were options of TCP/IP and Shell Accounts. He had several followers on Twitter and despite staying in most of the time, he kept himself occupied and connected with the outside world.
When I heard about his death this morning, I was happy. The man had suffered from acute renal failure and was suffering.
He will, for me, be the true Junglee
Below are some of my favourite Shammi Kapoor songs.

Main Chali from Professor

Taarif Karoon

Yahoo!

Notice one thing in each of these songs. Shammi Kapoor has an expression for each word. And that was his genius.

Doggie Days

Some recent study said that man's new best friend is the gadget.
I think that the survey is full of shit.
If you own a dog, you'll know what I'm talking about.
Books come a close second, but that is for another blog post.
I've had two dogs in my life. They've been part of my life for the last nine years.
Nothing can beat a dog's company.
You can tell them about your day, knowing that sit in judgment of you if you fucked up.
They sense when you're down. They come to you and comfort you.
They give you an ego boost.
They give you unconditional love.
Sure there are the downsides: they snarl at you when they're sleeping and you try and wake them up. They snarl at you when you mention the word 'bath' or 'walk'. They piss you off when they want attention. It's like they burn you with their look.
But despite all that, it's good to have a dog.
Rani, my dog turns 8 on Monday. If I made her life into a movie, it would be a comedy. My sister and I make jokes about her weight and the number of necks she has. Rani gives us a look to shut us up and it usually works.
She understands us. She swears at us. And unfortunately, we don't understand her at all, except for the swear words.

Colours

Colours are strange things.
They are there all the time and we take them for granted.
When we go about our daily chores, we don't acknowledge the blue drinking bottle, the white plastic cup that contains shit brown froth that was machine coffee. We don't notice that a pink transparent bottle, with enough light on it can actually form a pink shadow on the white wall, thanks to the light around.
Colour is beautiful.
I never appreciated it so much, until I took up painting as a fun hobby last week. I've always been decent at drawing, but in school, I was appalling at painting.
Surprisingly that has improved and I have a little something here to show my improvement.
It's the banquet scene from Asterix and the Black Gold:

We think and appreciate black and white and sepia images, but imagine waking up to a black and white world.
Whenever I think of that, I always think of this Calvin and Hobbes comic strip where he and his father discuss a world in black and white.

And I'd love to follow Hobbes' philosophy :). Click on the image and enlarge the strip, if you believe it too.

Sita: Daughter of the Earth: A review

This is the second Ramayana-related graphic novel that I have read and it doesn't disappoint.
Saraswati Nagpal's story tells the tale of The Ramayana in Sita's perspective. I liked the perspective. The artwork by Manikandan is really good. And you can finish reading 92 pages in 10-15 minutes.
The story starts differently. It begins in King Janaka's court, where he and his wife pray for a child, are asked to pray to the Earth Goddess, who blesses them with a child. She grows up to be Sita, a girl who is beautiful, wise and strong, as she demonstrates when she moves Lord Shiva's bow. The rest of the story is pretty much where the Ramayana takes off after Lord Rama weds Sita. The search for Sita, however, is done like a back story that is narrated by Hanuman.
Nagpal has taken some liberties. In my grandmother's tale and the ACK that I read as a child, Rama banishes Sita after a citizen tells him that he overheard someone throw out his wife, stating that he wasn't like Rama, who took his wife back after living in the home of another. In Nagpal's version, Rama never says anything to Sita and Sita finds out herself and leaves Ayodhya.
Another thing that is different from the original story that I read is that Rama learns of Luv and Kush being his sons, only after they nearly defeat him in battle. Nagpal's story, which has probably been inspired by Tulsidas' Ramayana rather than Valmiki's tells how the boys go to Ayodhya and play music and reveal themselves to Rama, following which Sita comes and asks Mother Earth to take her back home.
Nagpal's narrative is really good. She brings Sita to life and the gentle touches like 'bhaiya', 'didi' and 'bhabhi' are added, which was not there in the original ACK.
For parents who want to introduce their kids to Indian mythology, I strongly recommend that they get this for their kid. You can buy it here.

A promising start

The Ramayana has always been a story of Good Vs Evil. Grandmothers love Rama and say that he is the epitome of goodness and it was only his dharma as a king that prompted him to banish Sita from Ayodhya.
Personally, I always liked the Mahabharata better. It always felt real. All the characters, including Krishna had shades of grey. It was and still is, in my opinion, the greatest story ever told.

Cover of Issue 1

However, one character that always remained a mystery in the Ramayana is Ravana. The Lord of Lanka was a brilliant man, a scholar, a great king, loved his wife (or wives) and family. Yet, we've all been raised with tales that Ravana was the epitome of evil because he kidnapped Sita and challenged Rama to a fight.
Funnily, Ravana is the only grey character in the Ramayana. Come to think of it, so were Sugreeva and Vali, but then this is more about Ravana, given that I've just finished reading Vijayendra Mohanty's 10-part series, Ravanayan.
I finished the first part yesterday and thought that it was really good. The artwork is superb, as is the narrative. I love the way it opens with Ratnakar (later to become Valmiki), meets Ravana for the first time. The characters look complex and I sincerely hope that Mohanty has the same consistency as the series progresses. For those who want to order their copy, you can buy it here.
Happy reading.

A general ramble

We sit.
It's lunchtime at work and all of us sit in our fixed spots.
There's a lot in our minds, but the silence is enough communication. Funnily, it's comfortable silence because we're all in the same frame of mind. The only consolation is the food that we've brought. There is homemade bread, rice, chappattis, different varieties of potatoes (currently, it's six), some meat and some dessert. We smile at each other and silently eat. In the middle, we complement what we have brought and insist on writing out a list of what food items to bring the following day. We discuss meals on Sunday and wish we were part of each other's house to sample out the Sunday spread for a day. While some of us are more generous with our invitation, others are very possessive about their food and say that sharing food will mean taking portions out of their labeled food. We then decide that we'll salivate over what was made on Sunday the following Monday.
We dream of vacations. Of tropical islands, of golden sand, of high mountains, of deep valleys, of the idea that there could be no cellular network. This makes us happy. None of us are in the mood to communicate right now, especially using mobile phones. We think that physical presence is more important. We don't even feel like logging into Facebook. We talk about Google+. I think its a waste of time having one more social networking site, given that it looks similar to Facebook. I suggest that we go to Hatebook instead. That would give us more people to add.
Work off late is not the best place to be. Sure the office is nice-looking, but we're fed up with the job profile. We feel disillusioned that what we came here for is not what we want to do in the long run. I don't see myself writing 400 character recipes for the rest of my life. You don't see yourself editing mobile content for the rest of your life. You don't see yourself writing health and fitness stories for the rest of your life. You don't see yourself listing out mobile phone prices. You're smart. And so are you. You got better offers and fucked off. That leaves us, wondering what to do next.
If only there was a vacation to look forward. Oh yeah, you and you are going on one. Grrr. While I know that you deserve it, I can't help but feel jealous.
If it's not your vacation we're discussing, it's a huge t-shirt that speaks of a Canadian city.
I'd rather speak about your vacation and feel depressed. At least none of you will have to wear that t-shirt.

Calm before the storm

I'm unable to sleep. It's monsoon, my favourite time of the year, but there is no rain. My bed is a distance from the fan, which doesn't make my life too easy. The air is still. It is humid. I feel sweat trickling down my back onto a heat boil that was formed during summer and never healed. I curse my parents for never investing in an air-conditioner, but then I remember that I'm the one who pays the electricity bill at home.
The only sounds I can hear are that of my grandmother snoring and the gentle whirring of the fan in my room. My grandmother is 86. She feels cold with the fan on. She is covered up. I am sweating and want to lie on a floor of ice. I thank the stars that there aren't mosquitoes in my room.
Then the lights go off.
My room, which is black as the night, gets darker because of the blackout. I toss and turn, trying to figure out how my grandmother sleeps so soundly, while I'm dying here. I wonder whether I'll sleep soundly when I'm 86. I then wonder whether I'll ever turn 86. I think of modern-day illnesses and what the future could hold. I think that 2012 could be cataclysm. I think that 2029 could be the year machine takes over and rules mankind. I think of horror movies.
Suddenly I'm wide awake. There is silence and I feel alone. My grandmother, who has had an exhausting day, is fast asleep. I feel as if I'm being watched. I argue with myself and curse myself for being illogical. I close my eyes and try and sleep. A mosquito comes from somewhere and buzzes into my ear. I slap it and end up slapping my ear instead. The fucker has escaped. I decide to take a newspaper and fan myself to sleep. It's a technique my cousin taught me when I went to Madras several years ago. "Fan yourself for five minutes and sleep for another five," she would tell me. I decide to follow this advice. It works. I'm just about to go to sleep when my dog barks the house down.
I curse and wake up with a start. My head is pounding because I've been woken up with a start. My dog is staring into my face. She's in trouble, I can sense. She is panting heavily and wants to go out for a walk. I get up and put her on the leash.
We walk out. Surprisingly the night is pleasant. It's cool despite the stillness in air. I envy the street-dwellers for a moment, thinking that they don't have to deal with a room that has no cross-ventilation, but take back my thoughts immediately.
My dog relieves herself. She realizes that it's cooler outside than inside and decides to walk some more. The night is dark. She likes it like this. She hates stepping outside during the day. But at night, there is nobody. The world is asleep and it is hers to explore. She sniffs at the plants and the car tires. She moves daintily from one point to another. I'm tired, but allow her to go and explore. I want to sleep, but I know that I won't because of the heat and the mosquitoes. I also know that I'll start thinking of horror movies and evil sinister plots and thunderstorms.
And then, when I least expect it, I feel a drop of water on me.
I look up at the sky. The sky that was a brilliant mixture of purple and gold a few hours ago has suddenly been enveloped by a thick layer of purple clouds. I smile, knowing that the rains are here. The rains that will bring cool relief to my room. The rains that will remove the rashes out of my body. The rains that will wash away the sweat and grime out of my body. The rains that will give my dog a much-needed bath.
Suddenly, the night looks good. I walk back home.