Yesterday we decided to meet director-turned-papa Anchal Kumar and friend Manav Kapoor for lunch.
We ended up at Zyka (Raheja Arcade). We’d heard that it has really good Gujarati thalis, but on Sunday. Being a Saturday, we decided to risk the North Indian thali they had on their menu. Bad idea. The food was strictly OK, with the starter (ordered separately) being quite good. I think next time around it’s going to be A-la-carte.
By the time we walked out of the restaurant, it was pouring cats and dogs. We ended up waiting in the Arcade for an hour. We then decided to risk the rain to get to our cars and drive over to Lal Bagh. By the time we arrived, the rains had simmered down and we were able to explore the beautiful garden.
We left with a bunch of saplings. Anchal did most of the sapling shopping, with us settling for a rose plant. I do intend to return as the Bagh [garden] as it’s simply beautiful.
Over the weekend I had the chance to read the Last Lecture by Randy Pausch. The man is a true inspiration, and talks about values that I have seen and learnt from my family and friends as well.
I think every teacher, student and parent (well pretty much everyone) must read the book. It has some really good lessons for life and for living.
He discusses how it’s important to have a clear vision on one’s childhood dreams. Only when you know what you truly want can you work towards achieving it. He supplements various growing-up experience stories to show how one can actually achieve his/her dreams by gaining the right attitude and lessons early on.
He shows how it’s important for parents to impart and imbibe lasting values into their children, and give them as many opportunities to grow as possible. A home filled with love, books and inquisitive/creative discussions is the way to go.
Randy talks about how there are families that have a dictionary at the dinner table, and those that don’t. His had a dictionary at the dinner table (implying pushing the boundaries of discussions each time to include new topics, new words, new ideas).
If you don’t have the time to read the book, do watch Randy’s talk titled “Achieving your childhood dreams” that lead to the book.
Today, after what seems like years, I had some Mirinda.
The first sip took me back years to school holidays in Dubai. It would be peak summer, and I’d be out cycling in the afternoon (between 2 and 5) with Sunil Guna.
We’d cycle all over the place, or if I were alone I’d head over to Bur Juman (about 2.5 kms).
My friend would be a Coke or a Mirinda on those long throat parching rides. Those were the days
Even though I haven’t lived in Dubai for over 10 years, it will always have fond memories for me. I know all of us do, for places where we grow up.
As part of the Indian diaspora that settled in the Middle East, the experience of growing up is markedly different in many levels. There is a sense of belonging, yet you know this isn’t truly your land. There is the looking forward to summer vacations (which kid doesn’t?) and visits to India where we get to see cows on the road, lakes with boating, grandparents and golas!
I write about this today because my parents, who spent 60% of their life there, are returning to India for good. Today my father will wake up, look in the mirror, and wonder what lies ahead. My mother will make their last cup of tea in a city (in a country), which gave them their livelihood, son, circle of friends in a foreign land and so much more.
Even today, when I see a cow or a calf on the road, I feel very happy and content to have experienced this beauty. There is a charm and joy in this simple life experience that I cannot describe even to Shruti (my beloved wife).
I remember Dubai in various ways (not in chronological order):
Racing on bicycles down a long slope that didn’t seem to end with Sunil Guna during our Summer breaks.
The creek side Abra which would take us across to Deira and back to Bur Dubai.
The hot summer afternoons spent in malls and ambling across the city on foot or on a cycle.
The filafel from Tasty Bites apposite erstwhile She, which is now some other shop.
My first new computer, a Micron with Pentium MMX CPU and 64MB RAM.
Learning tennis at the Indian Sports Club, as well as swimming there with friends. I remember making many friends in the pool. God only knows how or where they are, as I never got their full names.
Waiting for Shivu bhai at the Indian High School fountain to finish his classes so that I could go home with him when Patel bhai would come to pick him up.
Bus rides to and from school, with all of us sweating (yes, we didn’t have AC buses then) and also enjoying the breeze from the running bus.
Dad teaching me to cycle in Hadi building corridor.. and me picking it up on the first try, without ever falling off.
A lot of black ants running all over my hand as I had spilled rose sherbet on the carpet next to the VCR. I remember telling mom this, and she explained that if I spilled sweet things on the carpet, this would be the outcome. I was no more than 2 or 2.5 years old then. This is, then, my first conscious memory in life, at least the one that I can recall. I vividly remember the colour of the carpet, the wooden TV stand that we had for over 2 decades and the VCR where the tape would pop out of the top.
Standing in the balcony and looking at the world beyond. Our balcony looked out onto a Y junction in the road, and I would love seeing cars choosing one or the other road. Always reminds me of Robert Frost’s poem The Road Not Taken.
Watching Duru Aunty come home from the hospital with baby Anil in her arms, while me and Prem were playing in the Hadi Building corridor. The first baby I remember seeing at close quarters.
Dad always taking out time to drop me at the club/mall/whatever at any time of the day or night.
Asadi, Al Adil and Adbdul Rehman supermarkets that we would buy everything from, before CarreFour and others came onto the scene.
Drinking coke like it was the coolest thing to do.
Friday evenings at Al Ghurrair, tokens at Sindbad and Samosa at Al Maya Lals within Al Ghurrair.
School. Who forgets school. I went to the Indian High School, and loved it.
Visiting from India once when dad was very sick.
Dandiya nights at Al Awir (in the middle of the freaking desert!). Awesome.
Kite flying with Dad, Ramesh uncle and Monil Ruparel at Al Awir. Did it once, but remember it always.
Sitting at the office with Dad and watching him interact with customers and visitors. Office was a hub of activity. Boxes being opened, shelves being restocked, all desi wanderers coming in for a chat, relatives and friends dropping in for a chat with Dad, me playing Prince of Persia (thanks to Manish giving it to me on a 5.xx floppy) and ordering coke from the Malabari shop across the road.
Visiting the Haveli, Shiv temple and the Gurudwara when time permitted.
Visiting Fua’s house and chilling.
Visiting other Indian family and relatives during Diwali. The sweets, the 10 dirham notes, oh the memories.
Diwali parties at Fua’s house each year, succeeding the chopda poojan.
Dada (Prem’s grandfather) dropping us at the bus stop each day, up until 3rd or 4th standard. He was a really nice person, and quite old school in many ways. He would pronounce Dixi Cola as Daxi Cola.
There are very many more memories, but these will have to suffice for now.
Bangalore is my home now. New beginnings and new memories.
I was talking to Jayanth at work, and asking him what he thought were must watch movies. Interestingly, very few turned out to be English, much less American.
I hope to finish them by the end of the year.. lets see how far I get!
Udaan is a work of art. It is realistic, down to earth, poetic, poignant yet inspiring.
The script may have been better, but the acting simply couldn’t. Ronit Roy as the abusive and headstrong father to new comer Rajat Barmecha is so convincing that you’d come out hating very evil things onto him. Rajat as the 17 year old protagonist is hard to ignore as well. The poetry and prose may not be his own, but through skillful acting and emoting, he totally owns the screen.
What I loved was the use of hand-held cameras for most scenes. It gave life to the shots, and brought out a realism which is missing from the so called ‘tight’ cinematography employed these days.
The editing could have been better (the film could have been a bit shorter) but I’m not complaining.
Coming to the poetry and prose, the less said the better. What I mean is, it is to be heard to be believed. There are some real gems in there.. and I’d rather you go to the cinema hall and experience them for yourselves. There is no missing this one.
This one, like Rocket Singh, belongs in your movie collection.
To see, or not the see.. that is the kostein (question as pronounce by a professor of mine).
I was planning on going to see Tere Bin Laden but Udaan‘s review and premise caught our attention. Shruti reviewed both trailers and decided that we should check out Udaan.
Movies in India are funny enough, the movie going experience more so:
There is a vast difference in the cost of movies if seen in the morning, afternoon and evening in India. The cost differential between the morning and evening shows can be as high as 1:5. We have decided to just see them in the morning, else get them from ‘other’ sources as paying 5 times the cheapest cost is not worth the money.
The food at the theaters, substandard. The food right outside the theaters, equally substandard. Oh the dilemma when spoiled for choices.
There is always a baby of crying age at the theater. If your bad luck is kharab (bad in hindi, fucked in daily speak), there will be more than one. And as Murphy’s lawe states, what can cry at the movies, will cry at the movies.
“You’re cutting the line” is a dialogue me and Manish always crack up at [inside joke, bite me]. But jokes apart, at the Indian theaters, you really would prefer a decent line. Especially when you book tickets online and need to collect them. Especially when the said movie started, like, 5 minutes ago. Unfortunately, there are always a bunch of asses who cut the line, and make life hell.
Enough on that already. Enjoy the Udaan trailer. I’ll post a review once I get back tomorrow.
