Looking Back...

It was way back in the 80s, when people like me who have almost fossilized on this earth were born, when life was all about Nirma Washing Powder ads, the glittering sparkle in Rajus pearly white teeth and the energy tonic—Hamdard Ka Sinkara…

Life in 80s and the beginning of 90s was untouched by the glitz and glamour of the Page 3 parties or the snazzy shopping malls…Entertainment was restricted to family picnics and occasional biye baris with a rare few Chunnu Munnus(those were the common names!) getting to celebrate their big birthdays…

Chitrahaar was the only Bollywood show we got to watch amidst much restriction ( my dad was against anything “Hindi”)… Chitrahaar was our key to Bollywood on those days…On every Wednesday we were glued to the tv set to watch the same old gyrating moves by Mithun, Jayaprada’s nagin style dance moves(with the dafli as a prop!) and Mr. Bachhan of cors …

We were never allowed to watch Hindi films when we were young… My first movie was way back in 1984 when I was a toddler…The film as I remember was Ghare Baire screened at our very own intellectual hub Nandan…Well the experience was not interesting at all… the moment I saw Miss Gilby(Jennifer Kendall) was injured I almost screamed out aloud and I just went on... As my parents were forced to leave the auditorium (thanks to me), a few self proclaimed intellectuals commented: “Boita Bojheni Bodhoy!”(my mom never took me to Nandan for the next 10-15 years)

Life in 80s was about watching television ads…The boring specs clad newscasters had already made the television unbearable (Sunit Tandon was good however!)…But I loved the ads…As the frilly frocked Nirma girl took turns on the screen even I danced to the same tune in my living room…. I still remember the catchline: Wah Raju tumhare dant to motiyo jaise chamak rahe hain….Well well you guessed it right the credit entirely goes to Dabur Lal Dant Manjan! It was during this kiddish family oriented advertisements Alyque Padamsee’s Liril ad raised much furor in the industry….Well who would really want to see a bathing Indian beauty considering our age old Talibanistic oops hypocrite Indian taboos… But Liril surely managed to capture the hearts of the Desi Girls back then…


My first Hindi film however was Maine Pyar Kiya in 1991…That was really an experience which I’ll never ever forget….When my life had turned almost black and white thanks to Ray and Hollywood classics there it was Rajashri pictures coming to my rescue with Salman Khan!!!! I was oh so used to the quintessential Bong look thanks to Soumitra and occasional Uttam Kumar stuff…this seemed to be a unique respite! For the first time I was introduced to glittery song dance and masala filled Bollywood oozing of passion, love, family values and separation and again boy meets girl story…I became an instant Salman fan ….

However 80s reminds me of something really unique and special…. The radio…The 80s radio was about the Bibidh Bharati which hosted shows like Bhule Bisre Geet and Aap ki Farmaish….Back then after our dinner as me and didi cuddled up in our beds we secretly switched on the radio…. There was a show called Aap ki Farmaish---Just like any other request show the presenter read the long list of requestors first and played their favorite song….There was a strange mystery in the names and the places where they belonged….”Subba sing from Badaun zila Rampur, Hawaldar Ram Pandey from Jammu, Suneeta, Santosh aur Tibbu from Latur”….The list seemed to be endless and we went off to sleep during that impeccable list reading session….But often looking at the night sky I thought, what is Subba Singh doing now when his favorite song “Chandan sa Badan” is being played at the dead of the night; is Hawaldar Ram Pandey from Jammu really listening to the song amidst the cold wintry Jammu night on a far away border post…Did they hear their names on the radio....As if I could visualize their lives through their names…the list went on and on….

My 80s was all about emotions, mystery, restrictions, frilly frocks, Mile Sur Mera Tumhara, Udaan, Humlog….It was about pastels, sketch pens and stone stickers…it was about my plaited hair uniformed childhood, it was about my didi and me, and about so many things which is lost in the passage of time...

As Cesare Pavese had rightly said…We do not remember days; we remember moments…These are some of the precious and cherished moments of my life!

Jay Ho...

And the Oscar goes to…By the time you are going through this crappy blog you might have read hundreds of articles, watched innumerable newsclips and discussed at length about the Academy Awards of this season and the name Slum Dog must have etched a fair mark on your third world grey cells…. So what was it really about slum dog…Was it all about an age old voyeuristic pleasure which the westerners have gained in India’s naked slum life…Or the artistic package which has brought into the foray the lives of the filthy, poor and uncouth slum dwellers of a third world nation or is it all about India’s emerging status in the world map….

Well the Oscars---It seems like the Nobel Prize of the season… did you guys know that the highest degree of cinematic excellence is awarded at the Oscars where films like Titanic are awarded with 11 or oops is it 12 Oscars? …Well the boring, intellectually overburdened grey haired cynical critics have written off Slumdog , and even chooses to keep mum about Smile Pinky…but just like the average Indian, I’m really happy about its success…Whatever be it our Rahman has won the Oscars… Now its our Rahman….oops no more communal colors guys!

Lets look back now at the film which seems to be the flavor of this season... The story of a few slum dwellers of India who grew up amidst the poverty, corruption, filthiness and uncouthness…and finally lives to celebrate the experiences of their life…

So is it just the celebration of life, its experiences or the good wins over the bad philosophy iced with Bollywood boy meets girl theory… well well the critics might be able to explain this better…all I could understand was Danny Boyle’s film was truly made for the Oscars…Where in the world would you find cooped up holes, children covered with shit playing amidst the garbage dens….naked child beggars, garbage vats, slums… what a perfect setting for a third world film which is oh so popular amidst the progressive Westerners…

So let these slums continue to live on the face of grey haired critics…let creative excellence only be achieved through poverty and let Dharavi be haunted by a number of rucksacked red faced “Phoren-ers” who would smirk , grin and shower all their curious western sympathy towards the third world phenomenon…and let all the Indians criticize more and more about slum dog…Coz who would love to see the same old sordid Indian reality again on 35mm….We live with it…We earn Oscars for it….Jay ho!

Slum dogs...

I was in Park Street the other day...Sitting amidst the red and white decor of KFC, I was happily munching on the crispy chunks of chicken intercepted by casual sips on the chilled cola... It was just then I looked outside... He was sitting idle...Tattered clothes, grease smeared face and a few pennies in his hand.. He was looking inside the restaurant... So many people inside, people hogging on huge pieces of chicken, people watching television and sipping their cola, people exchanging sweet nothings over a brownie sundae... all under the watchful eyes of that little kid...
His eyes wanted it all...Sitting on the other side of the window, it was reality staring at me... Inside the restaurant there were so many happy smiling faces, women with red lipsticks, men with their gelled hair and kids with ice cream smeared faces...But the li'l boy standing outside the window was the only thing that seemed real... As I looked at him I was forced to think, what was life really like at the other side of the window...Beyond our daily corporate power plays, beyond our popcorn soda lifestyle, beyond the glitzy shopping malls, what was life really for them?

In India,everyday we see so many child beggars on the streets...Most of the times you can find their little fingers knocking at your car window pane on a busy traffic... We either end up being sympathetic or just try to snub them for the umpteenth number of time... We go home and criticize the government at coffee table conversations and blame the European film makers for potraying Indian poverty...

But life still goes on for them...They grow up amidst these stuck up traffic jams, they grow up as silent onlookers always on the other side of the window pane...