রং

আজকাল অনেক রং চোখে পড়ে. মানুষের চরিত্রের রং, মানুষের চিন্তার রং, সামগ্রিকভাবে জীবনের এখানে, ওখানে, যত্রতত্র ছড়িয়ে থাকা অজস্র রং ।
এই যেমন প্রায়  ৭ বছর আগে যেদিন আমার দাদা ছ' মাসের ক্যান্সার এর লড়াইয়ে হেরে গিয়ে পৃথিবী ছেড়ে চলে গিয়েছিল । দাদার সাথে কাটানো স্মৃতি অনেক । সেসব স্মৃতি ও বেঁচে থাকাকালীন তেমন করে ঘাঁটাঘাঁটি  করিনি । কিন্তু যতদিন যায়, বয়স বাড়ে, পুরনোকে পিছন ফিরে তাকানোর অভ্যেসটাও বুঝি বাড়ে ।

সেদিনের রংটা ছিল সাদা। সে সাদা ততটাই মৃত্যুর ভাবনার সাথে জড়িয়ে যতটা শুন্যতার সাথে। সেদিন আমাদের সামনে সব সাদা হয়ে গেছিল। প্রতিদিনের ওর চলে যাওয়ার অপেক্ষার একটা  ভয়াবহ অন্ধকার ছিলো । ভাবতাম এই বুঝি খবরটা এলো। মৃত্যুর জন্য  অপেক্ষার রং কি কালো হয়? তাই হয় বোধহয় । আর সেই দিনটা যখন এলো, দাদা চলে গেল, আমার মনে হয়েছিল সব কেমন সাদা হয়ে গেছে । এ সাদা কিন্তু পরিষ্কার আকাশের সাদা না । এ সাদা শুন্যতার রং। সেদিন আমরা না পেরেছি সামনে তাকাতে, কারণ ভবিষ্যত অন্ধকার তো দুরের কথা, সে তো দেখাই যায় নি, আর কেমন যেন সব, অতীত, বর্তমান, ভবিষ্যত মিলেমিশে সাদা হয়ে গিয়েছিল ।

তারপর ২০০৭ সালের ১৫ ই অগাস্ট । আমার প্রথম বিদেশ যাত্রা। জীবনে অনেক আনন্দের দিন এসেছে, কিন্তু আজও সেই দিনটার কথা মনে পড়লে মনটা রঙীন হয়ে যায় । আমি সারা পৃথিবীর এ কোন থেকে ও কোন ঘুরে দেখতে চাই। সেদিন ছিল সেই স্বপ্নের ঘুড়ির প্রথম আকাশের ওড়ার দিন। কেমন ছিল তার রং? একেবারে রামধনুর মত।


কোনো কোনো শীতের বিকেলে মরে যাওয়া সূর্যের হলুদ আলো দেখি-মনটা কি আর হলুদ হয়? না কিন্তু! ধুসর? তাই বোধহয় !
তারপর ধরো, মন খারাপ । মনখারাপের রং কি আর একটা? কখনো কালো, কখনো, নীল, কখনো ধুসর ।

ভালবাসার? লাল?
স্বপের রং?
ঘৃণার? - সেটা বোধয় সবুজ। ঘাসের সবুজ না, অন্য একটা নাম-না-জানা সবুজ।
আবার রং যে শুধু একটাই হবে এমনটা নাও হতে পারে ।

ভালবাসা কখনো গোলাপী হয়, কখনো আকাশী নীল হয়, কখনো গোধুলির লাল হয়, আবার কখনো সঙ্গীহীন হালকা বেগুনিও হয়!


আসলে, জীবনের কোনো নিজস্ব একটা রংই নেই। আমি তাকে রং করি, আমিই তার রং বদলাই।
অথবা, আমি, যে আমি রোজ বদলাই , সেই আমির রং ও রোজ বদলে যায় !



                                                       ________ x __________

14 years....

14 years....

 

A friend from my college days resurfaced after 14 years-courtesy of social media. This is a commonplace incident. One of the pros of social media is that it is a good search engine to find people you have lost touch with.

The exciting bit about this event is that Razia not only resurfaced and exchanged phone numbers, but she also talked about our college days with incredible accuracy. She managed to beat my memories with remarkable attention to detail. I now realize I chose to forget and, therefore...

Razia and I got estranged because one of us decided to. With 14 years of events accumulated in our individual lives, you find it challenging to connect with the same language! I found it difficult to proceed with the conversation at first. I did not know what to ask or what not to. I was more interested in figuring out the change in her personality than the familiarity with which I have kept her image in my mind for the past 14 years. Does she still discuss what she liked to back in the day? Or, with 14 years gone by, now a wife and mother of two kids, does she only talk about household chores, her husband's income, or the more generic in-law conversations?

Razia, as a friend with whom I shared almost two years of my post-graduation days, has not changed much. Or maybe she has, but within the common sphere that a friend shares with another close friend, I could not locate much change. She does not look the same, for sure. But she does talk in the same manner she used to!

When we were studying English at the university, we shared meals, tea breaks, books, Rabindra Sangeet sessions, and, of course, tears! I had a lot of it, and so did Razia.

Days together, during the breaks between two classes, sitting on the lush green outfield of the campus, Razia and I used to shed tears about the discordant elements we had in our lives; the deeply soul-stirring Rabindra sangeets somehow always managed to grasp our haplessness irrespective of the reason of haplessness. We would cry about the lack of pocket money, the lack of good grades on our report cards....and so many other things.

It is interesting how two familiar friends can lack common elements in their lives! We were two losers together.

None of us had money to enjoy life. We had just as much as we needed to commute to college and have budget tiffin. Budget tiffin meant a cup of tea, a cake (not a pastry)/or an egg chop (not mutton or chicken pakoras), or an egg noodles, and that's it. If we had egg noodles, we could not afford the tea. If we had tea and the egg chop, we imagined we did not need the noodles. It is interesting how hunger can be trained to listen to the clinking sounds of the coins in your pocket!

I have often found people going ga-ga over their past, glorious the past was and all. Well, I am not sure about Razia; I did not have a glorious childhood, exciting teenage, or lively youth to remember fondly. Those were tough days, and the lack of monetary and emotional support from close quarters made it very difficult. Surprisingly, coming from different families, Razia and I bonded over those difficulties. And then we moved in different directions.

This being a public space, I would not talk about the series of events that separated us, but on that day, late evening, while I was watching a reality music show on TV and this unknown number popped up on my cell phone, and a young voice asked, “Is this Chandrima, ma'am?” I had the slightest idea who the young voice would transfer the phone to. It was Razia on the other end-the same soft voice, the same tone, the same pitch, intonations!

We talked about where she is and what I was doing.We talked about our respective families, and how things have changed. She asked me about my ancestral house in Calcutta; if the real estate goons have managed to take it over and transform it into an apartment? I said, no. I told her, things were pretty much the same with little coats of paint and fancy furnishings doing their magic on those brick-and-mortar structure. Internally, not much has changed, I told her.

I also told her that I had changed a lot. Razia refused to believe. I said, not only have I put on a few kilos, but as a person, who has endured the corporate grind for x no of years, I am no longer the same emotional, sentimental human being. Razia thought, that was not possible, and I must be the same sensitive girl that I was! I smiled at myself.

Razia had to take out a few of her guilt confessions- things she thought she hadn't done right. I listened to her quietly in the dark of the night, with my bedroom's light switched off. She started with a trembling voice, which soon gave way to a wailing that tore apart the silence in my bedroom.
'Let me cry over this, Chandrima. For so many years, not a single day passed by, eating me up inside out with this guilt. I am sorry! I screwed up.

I still kept quiet.

I did not have many memories of those days when we were moving away. So, after so many years, when she called, I did not feel any pain, any disgust, any vitriolic feeling that sought vengeance.
I was free. Free from negative vibes, the sinister desire to feel, 'See there? This is what happens if you betray me” None!

Guilty feelings are corrosive in nature. I wish Razia did not have to wait so many years to take it off her being!

 

The Lunchbox: A Review

Have you been in love or have you loved? Yes, they are different. Probably your answer is YES. I have fallen in love once, twice, thrice......the nth time. I am awaiting for the n+1th time. Therefore, when the tag line of The Lunchbox caught my attention, ‘Can you love someone who you have never met, added with it the names of Irrfan Khan and Nawazuddin Siddiqui, I had made up my mind to watch the movie. After all, the word love has the power to ignite even the North Pole. I was a little apprehensive about the tag line though, thinking if this is going to be another torture like The Japanese Wife. However, watching movies is the only way out of my otherwise mundane weekends. So, I went.

The Lunchbox is as much about the lunchbox, as it is about the lunch-maker and the man who eats it. It is a celebration of the mediocre mass of this country. It is about nostalgia, about the ones who are not a part of the urbane, iPad-hooked, upwardly-mobile crowd. It is about loneliness, the ones you can identify and therefore encompassing in nature irrespective of which strata of society you belong to.

It takes ample guts to produce a movie that does not have any of these elements—a glamorous, curvaceous (size zero is not the in thing anymore) heroine, a good-looking hero made of six-pack (the least), foreign locales, babes and bods. The producer trio need to be lauded for such a valiant investment. They believed in the script that blows you off with its simplicity. For a while you start thinking how on earth can you make a movie on a lunchbox! But, I was amazed to see a strong crowd of 400 odd people in urban Bangalore throng the theatre to watch a movie that has a lunchbox, a never to be seen auntie, a not-glamorous neglected wife, a widower dabba-eater, few hand-written chitthis, and the Mumbai special dabbas, and that is it!. I fail to believe that such strong a crowd has the same absence of social life like mine! It must be the movie!

Director-Writer Ritesh Batra’s The Lunchbox moves beyond the territory of being just a container of delectable platter of Paneer Pasinda or Tinde ki Subzi. Within 20 minutes of the screen time the innocuous lunchbox becomes a container of collective expectations, aspirations, reminiscences, hopes....and all those emotions that we have not named yet, may never be able to! Sajaan Fernandez (Irrfan Khan) is a 60-year old widower, with parted hair that has been oiled liberally, an unkempt salt and pepper moustache. He wears a Terri cotton shirt that you can buy in not more than Rs.300 these days, the ones with which akkha India’s office babus spend their entire lives in the daftars. There is no heroism in Sajaan’s character. He is the one you see every day in crowded buses and trains and you hardly ever notice. He is the one like me who treats oneself to an auto ride if something ‘happy’ happens to life (I sometimes buy sweets also). He is as mean as those typical office babus who, when it is time for them to retire, do not want to ‘train’ (what I really mean here is Knowledge Transfer or KT as we call it) his replacement. He is so mean that once when a blind man had asked for alms from him he has pushed that man and the fellow had died under the wheels of a lorry! If you thought that was cruelty, you will feel riled when you hear Sajaan utter the incident with unmatched ease to his colleague Nawazuddin. ‘You better be careful’, says Sajaan to Nawazuddin. We shudder and so does Nawazuddin but isn’t that a reality? Are we not, or are we not surrounded by, such people?

Ila (Nimrat Kaur), the other central character is a woman in her late thirties with unkempt eye brows. She has a daughter of about 10-years old. Ila makes mouth-watering food for her husband with the expectation that the taste of the food will cast a magic spell in the indifferent husband and Ila will get some attention from her husband. Theirs is a household where the husband comes pretty late at night, the three in the family gather at the dinner table, watch the news on the television, quietly finish their dinner, hit the bed....and doze off!

Ila smells her husband’s shirts when she puts them to wash and one day finds the scent of a woman on a shirt. Ila’s husband is having an affair. You expect a family mellow drama of the husband and wife shouting and abusing at each other but that does not happen.... the way it does not happen in millions of households where the man and the woman live together year after year without a hint of passion, love, and affection manifested in their relationship.

Ila’s only friend-philosopher-guide is a certain Deshpande auntie who lives in the flat above Ila’s. That auntie is never to be seen in the movie. But from Ila we get to know that for the past 15 years Deshpande auntie’s husband has been living a vegetable life in bed looking at the Orient fan! Looks like one day there was a power cut for a few seconds and Deshpande uncle almost had his breath caught when the power came back and so did Deshpande uncle’s life! Therefore, Deshpande aunty never switches off the fan and cleans it while the fan is turned on! Ila listens to Deshpande auntie’s radio, cassettes and when Rajeev, Ila’s husband comes back, the celebration of the two lonely homemakers end. One day Ila’s tiffin box with sumptuous food meant for her husband erroneously lands at Sajaan’s office table and neither Ila nor Sajaan try to correct the mistake. What ensues is a tale of letter exchanges between a neglected wife and a widower man.

You as an audience start to expect the obvious...may be the letters will contain each other’s unfulfilled wishes, cardinal desires, they will propose to each other, they will meet and Ila will divorce her husband and live a new life!

Nothing of that sort happens.

Sajaan and Ila communicate their loneliness, rekindle their memories through a few scribbles written in the torn off pages from exercise books that you and I used in our school days. Ila talks about her childhood and Sajaan his long-lost youth, time spent with his wife, the life of early nineties when DD1 was the only window to entertainment and the nation swooned to Kuman Sanu’s ‘Mera dil bhi kitna pagal hain’ from 'Sajaan'.

Just when you start to think the relevance of Nawazzuddin Sidiqqui in the film, the powerful common man emerges victorious with his commonness and mediocrity. How can you portray mediocrity with such élan is something the director has shown in this cinematic extravaganza. Nawazzuddin is a chipkoo....I cannot think of any word that explains his character as the word ‘chipkoo’ does. He has mediocre ability and no ego that makes him eligible for nothing more than the position of a clerk in the claims department of a 10-5 office. He tries to tag along Sajaan irrespective of whether the latter shoves him off or not, cuts vegetables in the train using the office file as the chop board to save time, refers to ‘Meri ammi kahan karti hain’, whereas he actually is an orphan. He has done everything on his own, including choosing a name for himself as Aslam Sheikh! The aroma of Sajaan’s lunchbox makes him infringe on Sajaan’s solitary lunch hour and the lunch. Aslam has no shame to reveal that as a dowry her fiancé’s dad will give a scooter to Aslam in his marriage.

All these are common, so common that they precariously snoop in very close to those closed compartments of your being. In about an hour into the movie you identify each and every element of the film as yours….either seen or taste.

The movie's trailers sold this movie as a love story. But to me it struck as a tale of loneliness..the various kinds that you can name or may not name. The loneliness of Ila connects with Sajaan’s and the loneliness of Aslam connects with Sajaan’s. Not sure why the marketing army of the film never mentioned loneliness as the underlying theme of this movie may be because love sells more than loneliness.

The casting of the movie is impeccable. Irrfan Khan knows how not to act and a lot of time that helps. Sajaan Fernandez makes you a party to his lunch hour, the delectable platter that he smells way before the actual lunch hour and when the lunchbox arrives there is this faint, almost unnoticeable smile that caresses his cigarette-burned lips. You smile too. You feel relieved that there is a letter. You almost want to shoulder-surf and read the lines. The day the letter does not come, you are probably more dejected than Sajaan. It is almost magical how the audience, Saajan, his lunchbox, the aroma of the food cast an enchanting spell to bind all together. It is like the inexplicable smell of old, tattered books, copies, letters…the smell of memories— fond or not so fond ones.

Nimrat Kaur—is she a first timer? I suspect she has a theatre lineage, if not; my question is, what was she doing all these while! Her loneliness, helplessness with that loneliness, desperation to express that loneliness to an unknown office clerk using the lunchbox as the medium, and then a final bid to escape that loneliness by deciding to go to Bhutan (she learns that Bhutan does not have GDP but a Gross Domestic Happiness index) to find solace and happiness, mirror a thousand rejected, dejected, and nowhere to go homemakers’ state of mind. It is hard to ignore her because she is so real!

Lillette Dubey’s cameo appearance as Ila’s mother and the mother-daughter conversation post Ila’s dad’s death drives home a striking reality. Lillette has been nursing Ila’s lung-cancer-ridden dad for years. The impoverished mother has sold off almost everything she could to run the medical expenses. When Ila’s dad dies, Lillette says, ‘Mujhe bahut bhookh lagi hain, main subah se kuchh nahi khayi. Itne salon se main sochti rahein gayi ki inke jaane ke baad mera kya hoga, par aaj jab yeh chalein gayein to mujhe baas bhukh lag rahi hain.’ Something in your cardiac corner writhes in pain. You touch your heart, the pain increases. Reality is that brazen...you choose to accept it or not. When death becomes a wait, love, patience, compassion and every softer emotion takes a backseat and the wait becomes painfully omnipresent. Lillette reveals the shocking truth to Ila: ‘Itne salon se inka dawa, khana, inko saaf karna…..yeh sab kartein kartein mann mein itna ghin paida ho gaya hain na!’

Ahh…you groan!

Nawazuddin, the garrulous clerk is a striking contrast to Irrfan’s reticent, self-obsessed, character. Nawazuddin’s acting acumen has reached yet another zenith in The Lunchbox. The guy has stopped surprising us for we expect nothing but excellence from him now. There are films that make you happy and forget the mundane. There are films that make you think and inspire you to deny the mundane. The Lunchbox allows you to rejoice the mundane.

A must watch, if I may humbly recommend!

Talaash- A Review

When I was a child my mother would invent stories just like that. She would invent characters, make them do things, and since her intention was not to be a great story teller but to ensure that my share of food is off my plate, she would get lost in the meandering maze of the story. Even today she recalls, that although she would lose track of what she said, I would, aged three/four, stop her and question the erratic shuffle of the storyline.

When I go to watch a movie today, I still carry the same level of concentration and question the legitimacy of every small incident that takes place, every character that gets introduced to us within the scope of the narrative.

The dilemma that I am faced with Reema Kagti's debut directorial venture 'Talaash' is, do I question the story itself? Or, should I question the story-telling? Because, for me,the script is of prime importance. If it is a very strong script, and then you have actors of Aamir Khan, Nawaazuddin Siddiqui, and Rani Mukherji's calibre, there is hardly anything that can fall through.

Zoya Akhtar and Reema Kagti have scripted a ghost story. But, till the end the audience treats it as a suspense-thriller, a mystery tale. It is an intricate plot and till the last leg of the film the director and her actors have lend complete credence to the story. However, the moment the supernatural or ghost element is weaved in, the film strikes a discordant note.

The main plot revolves around a car accident in which an upcoming hindi film hero Armaan Kapoor (Vivek Madan) had plunged into the Arabian Sea at the wee hours of night with his car, and is dead. Inspector Surjan Singh Shekhawat (Aamir Khan) is the investigating officer, trying to resolve the mystery of the five Ws and 1 H ( Who, What, When, Where, Why, and How).

The sub-plot is that of a husband and wife (Aamir and Rani), who have lost their 8-year old son Karan and are trying to cope very hard with the loss. An overtly curious and helpful neighbour has convinced the bereaved mother that the late son wants to speak to the parents, and even though the mother has given in to the penchant of planchet, the logical, non-believer father rubbishes any such possibility. He continues to fail miserably to 'manage' the loss.

Kareena Kapoor acts as a call-girl and during the course of the investigation provides many valuable input to the investigating officer. Aamir, by the way, as many trailers of the movie might have suggested, is not sharing a lusty allegiance to her. It takes a lot for a normal man to practice celibacy with Kareena hovering around in her tell-tale attire! We will come to that later.

What unfolds is that 3 years ago Kareena was picked up by three well-to-do youths for a night of pleasure and on their way to a hotel, one of them, along with the call girl fell of the car, on the road. While, the boy's friends took him to the hospital, Kareena was left to die in the footpath, unattended, to avoid any trouble the three youth could have facde. The errant boys later on stashed her body under a tree in a sea beach of Mumbai. Kareena's unsatisfied soul, since then is doing the rounds in the alleys of Mumbai's flesh-trade ring, trying to equate the 2 with the other 2 and bring about justice, to reach her own 4. So yes, Kareena is a ghost, donning the outfit of a call girl who causes damages to the three boys, who denied her a chance to even get a treatment in a hospital.

Now let us question a few things.

Kareena and one of those three guys whose screen name is Nikhil Deshpande, fall off the speeding car. However, the injury Kareena sustains can be easily passed on as one that looks like she has hit the wall of her bedroom in the darkness! The director and the make-up artists does not lend credibility to the ghastly accident victim with a proper make-up. In real life, chances are that you may not even recognize the face if such a thing happens to someone. But no, Kareena looks the same gorgeous girl after she meets with the accident with a very minor head injury.

During the course of the investigation, Inspector Surjan Singh gets to know the name of Nikhil Deshpande and when he goes to meet the guy, the latter is seen on a bed, having lost any ability to talk, move, and is merely counting his days. But, the incongruity is somewhere else. Can you imagine a man in khaki being welcomed by your parents at your place without even being questioned as to what he wants? Here, Aamir Khan knocks at Nikhil's door and the parents let him in, undeterred? Doesn't happen in real life!

Nikhil'other friend, whose screen name is Sanjay Kejriwal, has been trying hard to keep at bay the middle man Sashi, who introduced them on that eventful night to Kareena. Sashi blackmails him for money. Sashi has an aide, Taimur (Nawazuddin Siddiqui), who runs errands for the call girls. The night Armaan Kapoor dies in the car accident, Sashi had met the hero in person to collect the money and in return stop blackmailing Armaan and Sanjay. Therefore, the unexpected death of the upcoming hero has the chances of Sashi being linked to the incident. Sashi's female partner knows about the meeting and inadvertently speaks about it infront of Taimur. Taimur smells foul and is trying to grab some quick buck from the ransom that Sashi managed from Armaan Kapoor. Sashi decides to go on a hiding after extracting the last bit of money from Sanjay, and the former gets killed by a .315 caliber shot at him by an unidentified goon. Hence, it is only Taimur and the female partner of Sashi who know about the meeting of Armaan Kapoor, his dark deeds, now. Taimur gets hold of the DVD in which, the three youth are seen with Kareena entering a hotel lobby, and starts blackmailing Sanjay to tell it all, unless shut up by more money. Sanjay gives in to his demand. They meet at a Mumbai train compartment. Immediately after Taimur collects the money and runs he is chased by Sanjay's contracted goons and they take him to a rooftop to put an end to this. Three bullets get shot at Taimur and guess what! Taimur has the time to look at himself, the blood that is oozing out, a hallucination of Kareena Kapoor accusing him of his misdeeds, get up in fear, fall off the roof, and then finally die! Where on earth does a person with three close-shot bullets in his chest gets this much of time to travel to the other world? Also, how was Taimur responsible for Kareena's death is not disclosed to the audience. Who appointed Sashi's killer is also not clearly understood.

Lets move on....

Sanjay Kejriwal smells trouble all around him and finds his father to confide in. A father who we see only two times and not sure why was he required in the narrative at all. He does not take Sanjay out of the soup, does nothing that would have needed him to be in the narrative, but is still there. Is he a money-pumping agent in the film that Rima Kagti had to give him a role? Not sure.

Anyway, Kareena happens to give appearance only to Aamir Khan ( and why not!) and guide him to unravel the mystery so that her soul is satisfied.
Aamir meets her in a hotel room and says, he want to talk, only. Ahem! Alright. I will accept that. But my question is, all that he says to Kareena is that he is very sad at his son's death and is very tired of trying to cope with the loss, and then Kareena's soothing hands......wait.......puts him to sleep! Well, I will take that too. The only question is, what stopped him from sharing this to her dear wife, who is willing to share his burden as well! I mean, he has a loving, good-looking wife at home. Why deny her a chance?
 In the course of the events Kareena manages to do a little philantrophy by asking Aamir to release Sashi's erstwhile girlfriend from the tormentuous 'Madam' of the call girls.

So, now let us take a quick look at the headcount and match the scores.

Three spoiled brats- Nikhil, Armaan, Sanjay. Nikhil is living a vegetable life, Armaan has died in the accident, Sanjay is alive but caught red-handed by the police to cover the dark deeds.

Two con men- Sashi and Taimur. Both dead.

Sashi's girlfriend freed. Taimur's girlfriend, who was taken into confidence by Taimur to elope with the money till the latter meets him, is richer by close to 20 lakhs since Taimur could never meet her after the heist.

Scores about to get settled by Kareena. Sanjay is only left to be finished.

Let us now look at the sub-plot. A grieving mother Rani Mukherji is undergoing psychiatric treatment and her neighbour, Billimoria's sister Shernaz Patel convinces Rani to speak to the soul of her son Karan. They both meet and talk to the soul through planchet. Planchets, to the best of my knowledge are done in pitch dark rooms with only candle lights. But, here, the room in which they talk to the spirit is so full of light which two candles could have never brought in.  And I suspect if the brightness would have allured the spirits either! Lack of ATD (Attention-to-Detail).

The message that there are 'talking spirits' who tread this earth is conveyed to the audience towards the end of the movie. All this while Aamir denied any such thing can exist. Sanjay Kejriwal tells him that Kareena had died three years back. Aamir does not know who to believe because he meets Kareena every day! On his way to the police station to take Sanjay in his custody, Aamir drives down the same road that Armaan Kapoor took the day he died. From the rear-view mirror Aamir sees Kareena sitting at the back seat, and out of sheer horror loses control. Sanjay tries to bring the car back in control and they find that in the middle of the road Kareena is standing! The car loses its way, swerves itself into the Arabian sea exactly the same way Armaan Kapoor's did and both Aamir and Sanjay go down the sea. This particular scene has very strong resemblance to Gothika. But, the point is, in the same car, there were two people. Sanjay and Aamir and Aamir was at the steering wheel. When the car goes down the sea upside down, we find Sanjay is dead, but like a typical hindi film cliche, where a hero can never die, we find Kareena approaching the sunken car much like the manner of a mermaid, opening the locked door of the car and saving Aamir Khan. The hero does not sustain any injury, and with a little help from Kareena, actually manages to swim his way up! Phew!!

Result, Aamir realizes there is life, after life.

What could have been a splendid tale of mystery, a fantastic suspense thriller, is completely wasted in this very loosely-stricken narrative towards the end.

Hats off to Nawazuddin Siddiqui. He is not handsome. Rather looks dirty. The make-up artists and the costume designers have superbly exploited his looks to fit him in the role of a con man. He looks like he was born to be in that trade.

Aamir Khan. We understand he is in 'Talaash' of something, but, with a 2000 volt worth glamorous call girl going out of her way to help him, giving cameo appearances only to him, his look does not change. Even in his weakest moments he wears the same look and therefore is a little average on that front.

Rani Mukherji does complete justice to her role. She looks like a bereaved mother and a neglected wife.

Rosy, Kareena Kapoor, does very well within her space. She looks, talks like a call girl. Entices like one of her kind would do, and does not use too much of body-language (you know what I mean?) to convince the audience of her profession. I have never found her good-looking, in fact nowhere in the vicinity of what 'a good look' is all about, but I will give her the due credits. She does really well as a ghostly call girl..whatever that means.

The music and the lyrics are both great! Javed Akhtar has penned his songs in such a manner that even the songs tell a tale and Ram Sampath as a music director has re-lived the bygone era of Madhubala, Zeenat Aman. Good scores to say the least.

The art-director and costume designers have certainly stolen the show with a stellar performance. Every character wear and look they are supposed to. The only failure is the minor injury allowed to Kareena to retain her glam look.

But Aamir. You make one film in two years and we expect a lot more from you! You have set your own benchmark and the slightest digression from that standard, be it the selection of script, your acting, we, the die-hard fans get disappointed.

I would wait for your Dhoom 3.....now.

তিনশো টাকা, তিন কন্যা, এবং একটি saridon এর আখ্যান

বুঝলেন!

আমার বোন আর আমার সিনেমা দেখার luck তা কিছুতেই click করছে না । প্রতিবার কলকাতা আসি, ভাবি দুজনে একটা ভালো বাংলা সিনেমা দেখব। এই আশায় গতবার বেডরুম দেখেছিলাম, আর সেই একই আশায় এবারেও আমরা তিন কন্যা দেখতে গেলাম। ফল কিন্তু এক! কড়কড়ে তিনশটি টাকা প্রিয়ার ডাস্টবিনে ফেলে দিলেও আমার এত খারপ লাগত না, যা সিনেমাটা দেখে আমার লাগলো। সিনেমা শেষ হওয়ার পরে দেখলাম এক ভদ্রলোক মাথাটা দুহাত দিয়ে চেপে ধরে বসে আছেন। দোষ দিতে পারি না, আমিও তো বাইরে এসে saridon খুঁজেছি!

সিনেমার নাম তিন কন্যা। আমার ডাক্তারদিদি সিনেমা না দেখেই তার স্বভাবসিদ্ধ diagonosis করার ক্ষমতায় আমাকে সাবধান করেছিল যেন আমি রাবীন্দ্রিক তিন কন্যা জাতীয় কিছু আশা না করি। আমি করিনি। কিন্তু সমস্ত সিনেমাটা চলাকালীন আমি আশা করে গেলাম যে বুঝি এবার, বুঝি এবার কোথাও একটা মানে দাড়াবে! যে সিনেমা শুরু হয় মার্চ ২০১২ এর পার্ক স্ট্রিট এ মহিলা ধর্ষন এর পটভূমিকায়, খানিকপর তা পরিনত হয় একটি সন্দেহবাতিকগ্রস্থ মহিলা আর তার রগচটা স্বামীর মধ্যরাত্রের ঝগড়ার গল্পে। আপনি ভাবতে বসলেন এ ছবি বোধয় দাম্পত্য কলহের। খানিক পরে দেখা গেল এ ছবি একটি মারাত্মক glamorous আইপিএস অফিসার এর Halle Berryর catwoman স্টাইল নকলকরা এক মহিলাকে নিয়েও কথা বলতে চাইছে। আপনি ভাবলেন আচ্ছা তাই সই! কিন্তু না, সিনেমাটা কিন্তু সেটা নিয়েও না। তাহলে কি নিয়ে? আরে মশাই বুঝলে তো বলব!

ছবির কোনো গল্প নেই, আচ্ছা না হয় নাইবা থাকলো। অমন গল্পহীন ছবি প্রচুর আছে, অন্তত অভিনয়টা? সেটা তো থাকবে? সারা সিনেমা ধরে ঋতুপর্না সেনগুপ্ত কেন হঠাত হঠাত গান গাইছেন, আর পরিপূর্ণ eye-makeup নিয়ে রাত্রে শুতে যাচ্ছেন,আর কেনই বা তিনি হঠাত ক্রিকেটার রণদেব বসুর সাথে swimming pool এ নেমে গান গাইতে শুরু করলেন আমার সাধারণ বিদ্যায় তার ব্যাখ্যা আমি পেলাম না । কোন চরির্ত্র কেন আছে চিত্রনাট্যে, এর কোনো ব্যাখ্যা নেই।ঋতুপর্ণাকে যিনি আয়ুর্বেদ treatment করেন, তিনি একটা হাফ লাইন dialogue ঠিক করে বলতে পারেন না। আর ঋতুপর্না ২৪ ঘন্টার anchor হয়ে যা ছড়িয়েছেন সে আর কি বলি! অতি নিম্নমানের বাংলা news চ্যানেলের কোনো anchorও ঋতুপর্ণার থেকে ভালো অভিনয় করতেন। She is worse than a B grade hindi movie actress.

অনন্যা চট্টোপাধ্যায় একজন দেহব্যাব্সায়ীর ভুমিকায় অভিনয় করেছেন। তার এই পেশায় আসার কারণ? তার স্বামী মারা গিয়েছেন আর তাই শ্বশুরবাড়ি থেকে তিনি নাকি বিতাড়িত হয়েছিলেন। অনেকেই হন। কিন্তু তারপরেই কি তারা সবাই দেহ ব্যবসায়ে নেমে পড়েন? পৃথিবীতে আর কোনো জীবিকা কি একজন মহিলা আগে চেষ্টা করেন না? আর সর্বহারা একজন দেহব্যাব্সায়ীর অমন ঝাঁ-চকচকে বাড়ি, নিদেনপক্ষে ভাড়া দিলেও তো কম রোজগার হওয়ার কথা নয়!

আজকাল বাংলা সিনেমার একটা চল হয়েছে। কিছু অশ্রাব্য ভাষা চরিত্রদের মুখে বসিয়ে দেওয়া। কালে কালে আমারও কম হলো না, কিন্তু কস্মিনকালে আমি তো এরকম ভাষা না কোনদিন ব্যবহার করেছি, না কাউকে করতে দেখেছি!

সিনেমার শেষে হঠাত ব্রাত্য বসুর আবির্ভাব।তিনি নাকি বহুদিন ধরে ঋতুপর্ণার মানসিক রোগের treatment করছেন! কখন করতেন treatment?একবারও তো তাকে দেখলাম না গোটা সিনেমাটায়? তিনি কিসব schizophrenia নিয়ে জ্ঞান দিয়ে গেলেন। আচ্ছা জ্ঞান দেবেন দিন, তার জন্য পেন্ডুলাম এর মত একবার স্ক্রিন এর এদিক থেকে ওদিক, আর ওদিক থেকে এদিক করার কি দরকার? বাড়িতে একজায়গায় দাড়িয়ে কথা বললে লোকে শোনে না নাকি আজকাল?

মহিলা আইপিএস এর ভুমিকায় উন্নতি। তার জীবনে সর্বাঙ্গীন উন্নতির আশু প্রয়োজন। তিনি না পারেন হিন্দিটা ভালো করে বলতে, না পারেন ঠিক করে রাগ করতে, না পারে ঠিক করে বন্দুক কোমরে গুজতে! আগেই বলেছি তিনি একজন glamorous আইপিএস অফিসার, কিন্তু ঋতুপর্ণা কেমন করে জানি সব সিকিউরিটিদের চোখে ধুলো দিয়ে তার বেডরুমে ঢুকে পড়লেন। ভারতবর্ষের কোন আইপিএস অফিসারএর বাড়ি এত unsafe আমার জানা নেই। তার এবং ঋতুপর্ণার মধ্যে ব্যাপক মারপিট হলো এবং তাতে অবশেষে ঋতুপর্ণা যে আওয়াজ করতে করতে মারা গেলেন (আমরা ভাবলাম), সেটা কোনো মানুষের গলায় মৃত্যুর আওয়াজ হয়না, শাকচুন্নি, বা পেত্নীরা ওরকম ভাবে আওয়াজ করেন বোধয়।

শেষে দেখা গেল ঋতুপর্ণা হলেন একটি schizophrenic মহিলা যিনি, তার স্বামীকে খুন করে বাথরুম এ রেখে দেন আর hallucination দেখেন সারা দুনিয়াকে নিয়ে। তারজন্য পার্ক স্ট্রিট এর রেপ-কান্ড টেনে আনার কি দরকার ছিল, অনন্যা চট্টোপাধ্যায়ের এইডস হবারই বা কি দরকার ছিল, কিছুই বোঝা গেল না।

রবীন্দ্রনাথ বলেছিলেন, 'কাদম্বরী মরিয়া প্রমান করিল সে মরে নাই'. এ ছবিতে ঋতুপর্ণা অতগুলো গুলি খেয়েও মরলেন না, lunatic assylum এ গেলেন এবং প্রমান করলেন তাকে মেরে ফেলা  পরিচালকের অসাধ্য। তিনি পাগলাগারদে যাওয়ার আগে আমার যাওয়ার ব্যবস্থ্যা প্রায় করে এনেছিলেন আর কি!

সিনেমা শেষে বাড়ি ফিরব বলে মেট্রো স্টেশন এ দাঁড়িয়ে আছি। এক ভদ্রলোক তার স্ত্রীকে বলছেন, 'এসব ডেঞ্জারাস সিনেমা দেখা উচিত না। কোনদিন দেখব আমাকে murder করে বাথরুম এ পুরে দিয়েছ।'

যেমন খারাপ অভিনয়, তেমন জঘন্য স্ক্রিপ্ট, তেমন খারাপ পরিচালনা। বহুদিন পর এত খারাপ বাংলা সিনেমা দেখলাম।

একমাত্র তবু বলার মত অভিনয় করেছেন রজতাভ এবং অনন্যা।

 

আমার টাকা গেল, সময় গেল, সবচেয়ে বড় কথা মাথাটাও প্রায় গেল. তাই আপনাদেরটা যাতে বেঁচে যায়, সেই চেষ্টায় এই লেখা।

আপনারা ভালো থাকবেন।

 

আমার পুজো

ফোন, এস এম এস, ই মেল, অনেক কিছু দিয়ে চেষ্টা করলাম, কিন্তু কিছুতেই যা লিখতে চাইছি লিখে উঠতে পারছি না| তোর বাড়ির ঠিকানা গেছি ভুলে, লেখা শেষ হলে চেয়ে নেবো|

অনেকদিন পর কাগজ, পেন নিয়ে লিখছি | বাংলায় লিখছিও অনেকদিন পর| মনের ঠিক নেই, তাই যা লিখছি তার মানে নাও হতে পারে | তুই নাহয় তোর মত করে সাজিয়ে নিস| আমি জানি তুই ঠিক পারবি|

আজকের দিনটায় আমার সোনার বাংলা ঠিক যেন পুজোর ম্যারাথন শুরু করে| মহালয়া হলো সেই রেসের বাঁশির মতন |ভোরেরবেলার স্তোত্র সে বাঁশি বাজায়, আর সারা বাংলার গরীব,বড়লোক, মধ্যবিত্ত, নিম্নবিত্ত সেই দৌড়এ সামিল হয়! শেষ বেলার কেনাকাটা, আলতা- সিন্দুর, মিষ্টি, নারকেল নাড়ুর সাথে মিশে থাকা কর্পূর এর গন্ধ.....সবাই একসাথে জানান দেয় পুজো এসে গেল| ধানের ক্ষেতের সোনালী রোদে,সাদা কাশফুলের আল্হাদ মাখা পুজো, যেন এক ছোট্ট মেয়ে- যে এক্কা দোক্কা খেলতে খেলতে, একটা একটা করে ছোট ছোট চৌকো ঘর পার হয়ে ক্রমশ এগিয়ে আসছে....ষষ্ঠীর দিন সকালে ঠিক এসে দুয়ারে কড়া নাড়বে|

দেশে না থাকলে তবেই দেশের মর্ম বোঝা যায়|যে পুজো আমার দেশ,আমার সংস্কৃতির সাথে নিশ্বাসের মত করে জড়িয়ে থাকে, বাংলা থেকে উনিশশো কিলোমিটার দুরে সেই পুজোকে আমি দু হাত দিয়ে আজ যতই আঁকড়ে ধরতে চাইছি, সে ততই দুরে চলে যেতে চাইছে. হাত আমি যতই উন্মুক্ত করিনা কেন, সে ধরা দেবেই না!

আজ সকালে টি ভি তে মহালয়ার অনুষ্ঠান শুনে মনে হলো, "কেন এ ভুল করলাম! কেন বাড়ি গেলাম না?" এতদিন ধরে যে অনুভূতি একটা চোরাস্রোতের মত আমার চেতনার আড়ালে অস্ত্রে শান দিছিল, আজ সে খড়্গহস্তে আমাকে যেন বলি দিতে চাইছে!

বিধাতার রঙ্গও কম নয়! এখানে পুজোর কোনো উন্মাদনা নেই, পুজোর কোনো ছাপ নেই, কিন্ত শরতের কড়া রোদ, আকাশে প্যাজা তুলোর মত মেঘ, সবাই একসাথে হাজির | আমি ভুলতে চাইলে কি হবে? ভুলতে দিছে কে!

সবার কি পুজোর জন্য এত মন খারাপ করে? কে জানে? আমি তো চোখ খুলে, চোখ বন্ধ করে, আমার বাড়ির সামনের মাঠটাকে, Modern decorators এর শেষ রঙে রাঙানো pandalটাকে, মিষ্টির দোকানের উপচে পড়া ভীড়, গড়িয়াহাট, নিউ মার্কেট এর জনারণ্য, পা ফেলতে না দেওয়া ফুটপাথ,হকার্সদের বিকিকিনি......সব স্পষ্ট দেখতে পাই, কানে শুনতেও পাই |

মানুষ তার জীবনের এক এক সময়ে বিভিন্ন অনুভূতিতে নিজের অস্তিত্বকে জারিত করে| একটা একটা করে বছর যায়, সে উপলব্ধিও বদলে যায় আজ জীবনের অনেকগুলো বছর পিছনে ফেলে এসেছি. অনেকগুলো বছর কলকাতার বাইরে থেকেছি, আরো হয়ত থাকতেও হবে, তবু এ উপলব্ধি সূর্যের মত সত্যি আর তাই স্বীকার করতে লজ্জা হয়না| আমি বুঝি জানিস, আমি ভীষণভাবে কলকাতার সন্তান|গঙ্গার ধার, মেঠো চায়ের ভাড়, আমার বাড়ি, বাড়ির ছাদের সারি দেওয়া গাছের গা ঘেষাঘেষি'র বুনো গন্ধ.... তুই, চান্দ্রেয়ী, কলেজ স্ট্রীট, দ্বিতীয় হুগলী সেতুর পিছনে অস্ত যাওয়া সূর্যের আলো, প্রিন্সেপ ঘাট........আমি আজ যায় হই না কেন, যেখানেই থাকি না কেন, আর যেখানেই যাই না কেন, এসব ছাড়া সে আমি ঠিক আমি নই কখনই! সে আমি এক ভীষণভাবে অসম্পূর্ণ আমি |


কলমের কালি বুঝি ফুরিয়ে এলো......আজ শেষ করি!

Gasping price rise, state sponsored terrorism- a choice to make!

The food price index has soared to an unprecedented high of 18.38% in the recently concluded week. This is one of my favourite spaces, since it directly hurts my pocket. Never before in the history of Indian economy had we had an instance of three of world's best economic minds as Mr. Pranab Mukherjee, Dr. Manmohan Singh and Mr. P Chidambaram at the helm of politics and economics and yet such a soaring price rise of daily consumables, without an acceptable explanation. I do not know the nitty-gritty of economics,  micro or macro, and I do not need to know. What matters to me is that I have not got a pay hike, the public deposit instruments are offering me an interest rate of max of 8.5% and here I am fighting a price index of 18% and above, which means, in  near future if things don’t get back to normal immediately my actual earning would be in the negative.  These NSCs, PPFs, and other savings schemes, which give me 7.75%, 8.85% etc; as returns are actually not additions to my earning,  rather, they give negative returns when compared to the rate of inflation! The 'sarkari babus' do not feel the pinch because the central and state government raises the DA (Dearness Allowance) at a regular interval. But people like us, on private sector employment, and not working in the IT or ITEs sector, people who work in unorganized sector, the daily labours, wage earners, retired individuals whose income is solely dependant on bank interest ....can you find a way for them to survive in a world where onion is Rs. 65 / kg, and garlic Rs. 300/ kg, mustard oil Rs.76/kg? Even if you want to survive on a vegan diet you are not spared! Vegetables, milk, fruits everything has beaten previous inflation rates.  For the last two years we had seen situations where the inflation has gone to the negative, and yet, the prices have shown no signs of going down! I do not know what theory in economics could explain that, I am sure there is one, but my aware, conscious mind can find only one reason! Corruption! Had it not been the hoarders going rampant, there cannot be any explanation to this anarchy.

Manmohan Singh’s government wakes up from sleep intermittently. One fine morning Dr. Singh decides to call upon Mr. Sharad Pawar and ask why is the onion so costly. To which Mr. Pawar, who spends more time in Dubai at the ICC headquarters than this poor nation, declares that there has been a record shortage of onion production. Come on, now! My pet dog too has that much of knowledge having stayed so long in my company! The question is what makes the minister come up with this revelation after the shortage has actually impacted the market? Why did he have to wait for us to gasp for breath amidst this sky rocketing price? Where are the preventive measures? Why has the state machinery not taken any action to stop this or at least to mitigate this? What takes the government / IT department to crack down on the hoarders after three weeks of marauding price hike? Did they get their fat pay cheques three weeks later than when it was scheduled to be? No.  Then why is there such a delay? How can the government afford to sleep under their cozy blankets for so long? How can they be so unprepared at tackling this? Dr. Singh, Mr. Mukherjee and Mr. Chidambaram with Montek S Ahluwalia better go back to schools and give us a trustworthy story now! We are tired and indignant at their folly, rotten explanations and so called remedy!

Then there are the scams! They are not new to us. Born an Indian, you are bound to know about them now and then. In a way, they have become a part of our daily lives and conscience. Hence I did not read much of Suresh Kalmadi or Adarsh Housing initially. These news items die a speedy death after one week of coverage on the media. However, the recent spurt in the scams invoked my conscience and I thought it was a good idea to lend a piece of my mind through this very personal yet publicized space.

India has seen many such scams. From Bofors to Kargil Coffins, to Olympics to IPL to Aadarsh Avasan, to the crowing glory of scams - the 2G spectrum, you name it, they have it! Whichever party comes to rule these mammoth billion, they loot the government exchequer and thereby public money! Congress being at the helm of affairs for the longest time had had the maximum opportunity to do so! And they did not disappoint!

Ms. Mamata Banerjee , well known to call bandhs and disrupt public life at the slightest tickle, is so busy in garnering political support from the Central government that she has not raised any voice against this …….not a pronounced one! Call it her political maturity or opportunist politics, even though the state of West Bengal expected a robust protest from her on this, she chose to be different! How far and for how long can she pass the buck on the opposition? What has she done other than blocking the Metro channel and trying to gain political mileage out of dead bodies is a question that looms large in public mind.

On that note, the massacre at Netai village in Lalgarh, West Bengal on Saturday calls for some serious introspection on our part!

I do not go blind on the media stories and comment on them since they are all biased and coloured. However, when all the media report the same fact-irrespective of their political bias, I have reasons to believe them. I am aghast (I am looking for a better phrase!) to learn that a mass of villagers could be killed in such cold blooded manner just because they staged a mass protest against taking up arms training from the cadres? Is this what we call democracy? How could human life be so cheap? Reports tell us that the party cadres had made a list of people from each village and enforced them to do household chores at the CPM camps without a remuneration. And the villagers were ready to do so! Netai village is an agriculturally solvent one. People tolerated the party cadres' anarchy, exploitation to the farthest extent possible and went on toiling hard for the party 'netas'.  They relented only when they were forced to take up arms to prevent themselves from the Maoists.  They are agriculturists, who, the CPM cadres pressurized and tortured to learn arms handling! 

It was learnt that the police stopped coming to the village ever since the CPM cadres had set up camps there, and on the event of the massacre, the police did not come to rescue the villagers. No one picked up the phone at the police station,  the District Magistrate or none of his men were at their office during the incident. One can  imagine to what extent the ruling party has flexed their muscle, paralysed everything together in the system and made it completely defunct!

We are at the receiving end - the educated, aware people. We vote because we were told we should. Given the state of affairs, there is no way CPM can retain power nor should we vote for them. It is high time we correct our 34 years of mistakes and not vote for them. But then what is our alternative? Who do we vote for? The Trinamool? The Congress? Look at the central government, the series of scams, the price rise, the blunt infight within the party members,  and you know you have no option. No viable alternative!

Someone told me once – “Don’t give me problems. Give me problems only when you have solutions.”  I have none. I am seeking one through this post from all of you. May be you could throw some light on this.