It's confirmed - we live in interesting times and thank God for that! We belong to a generation that has seen a few defining moments of our history - the end of the cold war, the collapse of USSR, the fall of the Berlin wall, 9/11, the Asian tsunami, the rise of the Internet and the "flattening" of the world, the phenomenon of BPO's, call centres and new words like "Bangalored", the turn of the millenium, two wars in Iraq, a demolition in Afghanistan, massacres in Rwanda and Serbia/Bosnia, jokes like "shock and awe", erosion of human rights concerns, panic about the environment and the overall decay of political, judicial and legislative systems. While wars are nothing new, the last few international conflicts have been so one-sided and blatantly selfish, it only underlines the fact that we rarely learn from our history and continue repeating the same mistakes over and over again.

More recently we saw Benazir Bhutto falling prey to a terrorist/assassin, the fallout of a system she helped nurture not so long ago. As Pakistan slips slowly but surely into the abyss, one can't help but prophesise a similiar fate for the grandmaster himself - the General who has recently given up his uniform. The frankenstein created by them is coming home to roost and no one seems capable of stopping it. Having done almost nothing to deserve becoming a pin-up model for bleeding hearts while alive, in death Benazir has succeeded in becoming a liberal-secular martyr, and we now wait with bated breath for her son to finish school so he can lead the largest political party in the world's 2nd most populous Muslim state, while another ex-exilee rubs his hands in glee at the unfortunate turn of events falling nicely into his lap. That is, until he can stay out of Jail.

On our side of the border we saw Modi, a man pilloried for his past inaction romp home in an exhibition of vibrant democracy or communal polarisation, depending on your viewpoint. We deserve the leaders we get since it is us who bring them to power, and Gujarat, when faced with the TINA option (There Is No Alternative) chose someone who perhaps symbolises the best and worst of our polity.

A direct fallout of Modi's rise has been the strident "liberal" press succeeding in casting Hindutva under the same net as Nazism. This attempt began with a "rath yatra", peaked at the Babri Masjid and Modi's rise gave them the new poster boy they needed, giving birth to terms like "hindu fundamentalists" and "hindu extremists", previously the sole reserve of another community. How the hell did Hindutva become a bad word? A Canadian by the name of Yann Martel summed up what it is to be a Hindu and how one knows one is a Hindu in just one beautiful paragraph in his award-winning "Life of Pi". When a Canadian can sum it up so well, how the hell did we forget? Instead we fall prey to these pseudo-secularists who insist that being liberal is all about appeasement and pandering to minorities while constantly running down any voice that might oppose such a point of view. Someone new to Indian peculiarities might have mistaken the tone on some TV channels during the runup to the Gujrat elections as the voice of the nation. The secular media were in such a panic-ridden tizzy, it seemed that Modi was actually Osama in disguise. I will never try to defend Modi; no defense for the indefensible; but at the same time I am also amazed at the catastrophic predictions of psephologist turned political analysts who have their own private agendas. While a free press might have always been a mirage, Americanism has finally succeeded in tinting every point of view - You are either with us or against us!

So what does 2008 have in store for us? From the look of things, more or less the same that 2007 held. The sensex will reach greater heights, the common man be pushed down to deeper lows, politicians will continue bickering, upcoming general elections will set agendas and the promise of the future will sacrifice our now, ensuring that we benefit from neither, the cricket team will continue to alternate between exasperation and ecstasy, India Inc. will succeed in prolonging the mirage that all is well while flashpoints like Nandigram and Narmada will drift into our collective peripheral vision before disappearing entirely, we will celebrate the immense wealth created by the Ambanis and the Mittals while a toothless 53 year old grandmother will trudge across 15 km of sand and stones to fill an earthen pot of water somewhere in Rajasthan, Taslima will be defended citing freedom of speech, Hussain will be vandalised against the same principle, while Karunanidhi will continue his vile diatribe and will be accomodated so as not to disturb the status quo at the centre. In all, not so different from 2007!

The year end did come with a silver lining in the form of Taare Zameen Par. Aamir Khan's directorial debut should be made compulsory viewing in schools across the country for teachers and students alike. A poignant and moving tale simply told had grown men in tears across the nation, showing us once again that no one can do it like Aamir does.

Ring out the old and bring in the new might apply across the globe, but we will recycle, reuse and regurgitate - Chak De India! Happy 2008 everyone!!

I recently watched four films - two of the mainstream variety and two of the new-age - and I loved three and a half of them. Indian cinema finally coming of age, where the adherence to formula is'nt necessary and fresh themes, faces and treatment are making a mark.

The first on my list was "Johnny Gaddar" and I loved it - the story might not be new, we've seen similiar fare dished out many times from Hollywood, but to see an Indian film with such sensibilities was a treat. The story, treatment, music and performances were certainly worth writing home about, and its about time our writers stopped feeling the need to justify any dark move made by our protagonists. The anti-hero has been around for a long time, and has always had a sob story to justify his evil bent of mind (SRK in Darr, Baazigar). More recently, our leading men have learnt that experimenting with shades of grey only makes them recognised as better actors and does not harm their goody-good image. Saif in Omkara, AD and Vivek in Company were given the credit they deserved for delivering outstanding performances even though their characters were negative, and they have only gone onto better and bigger successes (well, apart from Vivek, who is yet to better his debut). In "Johnny Gaddar", Neil Mukesh makes an impressive debut, helped by the fact that his character needs very few expressions - the narrative makes up for the rest. And though his character betrays and murders his friends, he is an unapologetic victim of circumstance, showing little remorse - a reflection of the times we live in, where life is cheap and every one wants to take a short cut to success. He is supported by a bunch of fantastic actors among whom Vinay Pathak stands out yet again for the sheer honesty he instills into every character he portrays.

After JG, the next film in line was "Manorama 6 feet under". Inspired by the classic "Chinatown", Manorama was a languid excercise in story telling. Though slightly ponderous at times, it was nevertheless an engrossing tale set in the wonderful backdrop of Rajasthan, a canvas that adds layers to any text by just being as it is. The treatment was again a salute to a wonderful style that Hollywood has perfected over the years - twsits and turns where nothing is what it seems. Abhay Deol seems to be making a habit of doing story-driven movies and is slowly emerging as an actor of repute. As usual, Vinay Pathak is mesmerising, and Gul Panang does a commendable job. The costumes are excellent and one has to applaud Gul for her characterisation - how many heroines are willing to dress in a shabby night dress with a petticoat showing just above her rubber chappals? She not only nails the look of the character, but is also helped considerably by her earthy appeal and charm.

Finally came Diwali and with it two of the year's biggest releases - OSO and Saawariya. I first watched OSO out of loyalty to my wonderful Jirlax, because I knew it would be a fun entertainer and to judge for myself if Deepika deserved the unconditional gush of emotions she seemed to be getting from everyone. Three hours later, I emerged a believer. SRK is his usual charming best and entertains us thoroughly by refusing to take himself too seriously. Farah's knowledge of the industry makes for some hillarious gags and inside jokes, which most regular film goers should get. And Deepika is incandescent. Her beauty is luminous, capable of lending a warm glow in the darkest reaches, a smile to rival Madhuri, and limpid pools that would inspire Shakespeare. A hint of naivety and sense of awe seems to come through, possibly due to her young age - one hopes she is able to hold on to that innocence and not surrender it to the ravages of time.

The other big release, "Saawariya" was a slight disappointment, only because one expects more from SLB. Slightly self-indulgent, the film is carried on the strength of its lead performers, both debutants boasting a filmi pedigree. Ranbir is allready creating a flutter and has many women swooning at his sight, and it is well deserved. The proud bearer of the Kapoor heritage is a worthy addition to the film galaxy, and will only get better with time. Sonam is another stunner whose simplicity and beauty comes across as a breath of fresh air. Unfortunately SLB gives her little scope as most of the film seems to revolve around Ranbir, but she makes her presence felt and one only hopes she goes on to bigger and better successes, better scripts and a bright future. SLB seems to be on a steady decline ever since his first and best film "Khaamoshi" bombed. While a steady chorus touts "Black" as sheer poetry and the new benchmark in Indian Cinema, one only wishes he would come out with something more original, a story not borrowed or inspired from a classic, where the balance between style and substance is healthy.

Both Ranbir and Deepika seem to be destined for greatness, while one feels a little scared for Sonam. You want her to do well, you wish the best for her, but realise at the same time that in this dog-eat-dog industry, she will face an uphill task. Ranbir now has to prove his chops as an actor and Deepika's beauty will only take her so far. Will she be able to carry an entire film on her pretty shoulders - only time will tell. She does however exude a warmth that embraces the viewer, leaving one feeling attracted and protective at the same time, forcing the viewer to fall in love. It's stuff like this that our dream merchants have peddled so successfully for years, weaving magical tapestries, helping us forget our worries for a few hours and making us believe. Inspite of all the cynical baggage that love carries with it, it still is something to aspire to, something we all want in our lives, something we seek and hope to find. The magic of our cinema is that has the power to make us believe, and Deepika, Sonam and Ranbir are worthy purveyors of this trade. Lets wish them luck so they can go forward and break millions of more hearts and make their magic for a long time to come.

Two weeks ago I decided to quit smoking...again! After having been a regular smoker for the better part of 17 years, I finally decided enough was enough, and so with a subtle flick of my right wrist, I chucked my last pack of nicotine sticks and a cheap disposable lighter into the rubbish bin. That was almost 10 months ago. The following 7 months were healthy and cough free. My wife stopped complaining of my cigarette breath. It has been said that kissing a regular smoker is like licking an ashtray - not very appetising. Life was good, the birds were chirping again, rainbows regularly appeared in the sky and all was well in the world.

This lasted until I travelled back home, met a few old friends and slipped so easily back into old ways, it was like I had never left. It started with just one drag - for old times sake. It soon grew into just one cigarette - if I can quit for 7 months, I can control the urge. It did not take very long for that solitary cigarette to graduate into a pack - to be smoked over the next 4-5 days, and just like that, in a span of 2 weeks I was back to the status of a regular smoker. All the cleansing of the past 7 months tapped away like useless ash and flushed down the toilet. It took me another 2 months to finally admit to myself that I missed the deep breaths I could take when my lungs were doing what they were meant to be doing, without having to bear the additional burden of nicotine fumes. The coughing fits, when my eyes would nearly pop out with the dry retching always reminded me of a song from "Jesus Christ Superstar", when Pontius Pilate is begging JC to give him any excuse not to sentence him to crucifixion, but our dear JC, filled with faith and belief in his divine duty refuses to do so. Exasperated and left with no choice, Pontius Pilate, in the immortal words of Tim Rice sings:

Don't let me stop
Your great self-destruction
Die if you want to
You misguided martyr!
I wash my hands
Of your demolition
Die if you want to
You innocent puppet!

With every cough that racked my chest, I knew how true those words were - they were written for me - for every smoker who, inspite of knowing what a vile and unhealthy habit he is a slave to, continues to puff away, dragging deep and dreaming of a Marlboro sunset. Until 2 weeks ago.

It has now been 14 days since I have been clean. In all honesty, I have sneaked in 2 cigarettes - but I prefer looking at the big picture and living in denial, and as we all know, denial is not just a river in Egypt. It also helps that the month of Ramadan started 2 weeks ago, and smoking in public during the day is punishable with a fine and possible imprisonment. Who says living under an authoritarian regime does not have an upside!!

In a recent article, Shashi Tharoor commenting on Hinduism says,"... as a way of life it pervades almost all things Indian, bringing to politics, work and social relations the same flexibility of doctrine, reverence for custom and absorptive eclecticism that characterise the religion.... Hinduism is also the sole major religion that doesn't claim to be the only true religion.... This hasn't prevented self-appointed votaries of the faith from developing their own brand of Hindu fundamentalism, even though Hinduism is uniquely a faith without fundamentals. What they don't seem to realise is that Hinduism is a civilisation, not a dogma. It's ironic that those who claim to be its defenders define Hinduism in a way that makes it something it isn't — narrow-minded, exclusive and intolerant."

In an age where fundementalism, sectarianism and narrow-minded boorishness threaten to disrupt the fabric of peaceful co-existence that has been the hallmark of the Indian way of life, it is nice to remember one of the most radical propogators of unity in diversity and national integration - Manmohan Desai! Anyone who has seen "Amar Akbar Anthony" knows exactly what I am talking about. In a scene early in the film, the mother, Nirupa Roy, is in a hospital and in dire need of blood. Three donors offer to help, brothers seperated at birth - Amar (Vinod Khanna), Akbar (Rishi Kapoor) and Anthony (Amitabh Bachchan). The scene is set in a hospital room with the mother lying in bed at one end, and opposite her are lined up three beds with her three lost sons lying in them. IV tubes run from each of their arms to a common bottle which collects their blood and puors it into the veins of the ailing mother. The shot is tacky, the procedure over-simplified, but the symbolism is mind-numbing. The blood flowing through the veins of Mother India is the confluence of Hindu, Muslim and Christian blood, the blood of her sons. With just that one shot, Manmohan Desai was able to succintly portray a harmonious picture of national integration and the triumph of unity in diversity.

In a country where the diversity is so vast, where food habits, language and customs vary with alarming regularity for every 50 sq.km (sometimes even less), where until recently the only binding factor used to be cricket and Sachin Tendulkar, this was a message simply put reaching the multitude of masses who throng the cinemas in worship of their idols. And yet I wonder how many people actually got it.

Manmohan Desai was a past master at what some have described Indian cinema - the wilful suspension of disbelief. In the climax of the same film, the three heroes are in the villian's den to rescue the fair maidens and wreck havoc on the man who dealt with them so cruelly, broke up a family and seperated a husband from his wife and loving parents from their sons. The entire gang of goons has been hunting for our three well disguised heroes, and yet, right in the villain's lair, under the noses of these goons, they break out into song, proclaiming their names, saying the impossible becomes possible, when Amar, Akbar and Anthony are together, and yet no one recognises them. That requires a whole lot of suspension of disbelief, and yet it works in our formulaic cinema.

For long our mainstream cinema has been a harbinger of similiar messages of peace and unity. The triumph of good over evil has been a hugely successful theme ever since we started making films, and while no single film, to my knowledge, has ever succeeded in bringing about any form of major social change, the intent has allways been to provide entertainment with a message. So while we continue to run down our films in favour of cinema from the west, let us spare a thought for Manmohan Desai and his unique brand of mindless fun. As the world careens ever closer to the precipice created by terrorism and Jehadis of every major religion, let us try to remember the days of simple innocence and pray they return. And return they shall, someday, when we finally reach Avalone.

Going home reminds us of what we left behind in search of newer pastures. It is a time to rejoice with loved ones, enjoy each other's company and remember why you left in the first place. Nostalgia is always more appealing when tinted in sepia, the kodachrome reserved for a more recent vintage.

In my travels, I met a hermit. Leading a reclusive life while living in the heart of a major metropolis is'nt something you see everyday, but there he was in his splendid isolation, grey curls blowing wistfully in the breeze, wearing fashionably faded denims and spouting the essence of every major religion as gentle raindrops glistened in brief sunlight and bounced off green leaves. He told me tales about the universe, how it all began, the reason for existence and the next level of evolution. He was'nt a messiah but he made me want to believe. Man, he said, is born an animal in his natural state. Social conditioning and knowledge help him to evolve into a human being. The goal is to carry forward this natural process of evolution and take it to the next level; man becomes superman. The definition of superman is not necessarily what G.B.Shaw or DC Comics might have imagined, but as I understood it, it is an attempt to attain a higher level of consciousness, one step closer to perfection, one step closer to the divine inherent in all of us.

Easier said than done. We live in a society where we all have individual and collective goals and responsibilities. What would happen if every individual decided to become a hermit and emabark on a spiritual quest? Possibly, world peace, the end of hunger and inequality and eventual communion with God (for want of a better all-encompassing term). There would also be anarchy along the way, a breakdown of life as we know it and serious bouts of self doubt. The trick has to lie in fulfilling your personal quest while living within this man-made boundary. With my limited knowledge of theology, I believe every religion says that the highest form of worship lies in fulfilling your duties to family and society while leading a decent and honest life. The problem arises when we stray from this simple path.

There is way too much out there to comprehend and assimilate in one lifetime. Imagine yourself standing on this earth all alone. Makes you feel really small. Now zoom out and see the earth in relation to the other planets that make up our solar system. How small are you now? Now zoom out a little more and look at our solar system in relation to our Milky Way galaxy - there are literally billions of other solar systems out there, and thats just in our galaxy. Now zoom out a little more and see our galaxy in relation to other similiar galaxies - again another few billion! How small do you feel? Now go into your own body - skin - blood - RBC's and WBC's - zooming in further into atoms, molecules and finally quarks. Look up at the immense universe around you now. How big do you now feel? It's such a splendid contradiction - the universe is way bigger than we can ever imagine and we are such a small, tiny, insignificant pixel in it, yet when we look into our own self, from the viewpoint of that quark, we ourselves are an entirely self-contained, self-sufficient universe. In the Bhagwad Gita, it is written that God is that smallest quark inside us all as well as the entire universe with all the suns and stars and planets and galaxies and black holes. He is in us all and we are all in him.

Can light travel around a corner? If a sound is made and no one hears it, is it a sound at all? Is it possible to travel through time? Will the theory of relativity and nano physics ever reconcile to give us the ONE unification theory that will answer all questions and validate Stephen Hawkings? In my mind, all these questions have one common affirmative answer, but that's for another day, another blog, another vent. For now, I am just trying to come up with more questions - the answers will hopefully reveal themselves someday. As Moulder so famously said, "the truth is out there". We just hope to find it some day, somewhere, in Avalone.

He must have been around 6 years old, a shy and diffident boy trying to cope with being thrust into an alien environment. It was a christmas party for children where he was desperately trying to fit in, and not having any friends to play with, was consigned to the sidelines watching the merriment unfold. His retiring nature constrained him from breaking free from the shackles that held him back from new friends and experiences.

The new game was to run around the hall to try and find a special spot previously chosen by the organisers. He watched as the other children ran all over, forwards and backwards, up and down the hall with uninhibited glee. He found it childish and refused to partake in the general melee that was ensuing. Then the gears in his head started turning - where could this elusive spot be? Something clicked and he realised that at a christmas party, the most special place in the hall had to be near the christmas tree, all decked up. Slowly he started walking towards the spot he felt was the chosen one - still not running out of sheer contempt for the other kids. He might not have known what the word meant, but apparently knew how it felt. As he was nearing his destination, the bell went off signaling the end of the game. A little boy, seperated from his mother was wailing under the christmas tree, oblivious to the game going on around him, and surprise surprise - he was deemed to be in the chosen spot. Still crying, he was dragged onto the stage and given a bunch of presents - Merry Christmas!!

Smug at the validation of his logic, our young six year old took his first step towards developing a sub-concious attitude of intellectual superiority - after all, he had deduced correctly where the mystery spot would be, and that was enough. Unfortunately, any lessons that should have been learnt from this were conviniently overlooked. Life goes on all around us every second of every minute of every day. Either you participate in it, or it passes you by. To know something is of little value unless you can use that information, act upon it and derive value from it, otherwise, all knowledge is an unending excercise in futility, to be filed away, taking up space in your mental hard drive. Granted, there is plenty of free space available, but that is missing the point, as our young six year old failed to appreciate. Life is action - inertia just sucks out the potential life force in us, rendering us passive spectators while the game of life goes on before our eyes. Inaction denies us the chance to tap into our unmeasurable potential, denies us the chance to live as opposed to merely exist.

This attitude of inherent inertia would continue to haunt him for many more years, but how could he have realised it back then. After all, he was just a kid. Over the years he would meet many people who would try to shake him out of this lethargy, but when it is inscribed on your psyche, it takes some doing to cast it out of your system and banish it forever. It would be an uphill struggle, but atleast it would be a step forward, another small step in his search for Avalone.

This weekend marked the 40th anniversary of the release of one of my favourite albums, 'Sgt.Pepper's Lonely Heart's Club Band'. This album has long been considered a classic and one of the first 'concept' albums, leading to a whole new direction for music. However, recently while reading the Beatles Anathology, I came across a comment made by John Lennon about this album. According to him, Paul came up with the title, and they wrote the first two songs of the album - that's it. In his own words,"every other song could have been on any other album". The album went on to set standards and came to be regarded as a Concept Album "because we said it worked". The Beatles never set out to make this pysechedelic standard with a 'concept' running through and linking every song, it became that because the world put it on a pedestal and the fab four went along and said yes, it works! This brings me to the point of today's rambling - our penchant to create and worship false gods. This is not a comment on the Beatles, one of my favourite bands - they deserve every bit of praise ever showered on them, but rather a comment on how an album they released 40 years ago came to be elevated to such heights, based on an erroneous appropriation of praise.

Deification has always been the shortest, easiest and most transitory result of Warhol's 15 minutes of fame. While some actually deserved their time and got plenty more of it (The Beatles), most were raised up for worship only to be torn down later under the harsh gaze of a public given to the easy complacency of pop-culture and passing fads. In India, this phenomenon is even more pronounced, as can be seen in the illogical world of politics and films. Stars from the screen are elevated to such lofty heights that they actually begin to believe the hype they hear and read about. Politicians are promised and granted the reigns of a nation based solely on a last name. This is manifested in all its glory through the disastrous coupling of these two streams, when film stars turn into faux politicians, surviving for a short term at best (with few notable exceptions - and we all know how that turned out). The adoring public that carry out this deification are almost always forgotten thereafter, until sooner or later when they return with a fury previously reserved only for a woman scorned and topple their deities from previously unreachable heights. And yet, this circle continues like a merry-go-round without brakes. The yin needs the yang to be complete lest we disturb the delicate balance of the cosmos. So we continue to elevate, tear down and elevate again either the incumbent or the new claimant to his 15 minutes.

Einstien once said "God does not play dice". Since he was considered a genius, we tend to consider his views with more gravity than, say, my views. From Einstein's comment, we can draw the conclusion that everything happens for a reason, there are no accidents, and that serendipity and mischance are both predestined. The universe is functioning exactly as it should, a view shared by philosophers, scientists, artists and religion alike. This would mean that we, the public, are getting exactly what we deserve - the idolatory worship, the neglect and misuse and general apathy. Now what does all this have to do with 'Sgt.Pepper's Lonely Heart's Club Band' - not much I'd imagine. It's a great album that was elevated to legendary status for the wrong reasons. That does not deduct in any way from its musical merit, but serves as an analogy on how we tend to grant divine right all the time to phenomenon around us in a mistaken sense of glorification. Let us venerate the venerable, but for the right reasons.

Welcome to my world. This is my first post ever in any blog and I dont know where to start. Too many random thoughts jostling for space making it tough to pick any one single stream to hyperventilate on. I have often been told I have a gift for the written word and though I have never actually written anything of import for such an assumption to be made, I would still like to believe the many kind hearted people who have encouraged me to put pen to paper - or as is the case - finger to keyboard. Its a hot day outside, and while the air-conditioning is effective, it does nothing to soothe the molten embers that are burning my insides. Where they came from, I can only begin to imagine, and how I can douse them remains to be seen.

I have always tried to believe there is more to this world and our fleeting existence than we can comprehend. From time immemorial, man has tried answering basic questions like who am I, where do I come from, why am I here and where am I going? The Greeks meditated on this and gave birth to philosophy. Science gave us evolution, logic and space-time conundrums. Religion proclaimed to hold all the answers, while only giving rise to more questions. Pop culture gave us easy fixes with simple FAQ's for everything. And yet the search is far from over. In the Beatles Anathology, John Lennon said that he had stopped searching - perhaps he had found the answers he sought, perhaps he was content. But while these embers keep burning inside me, I have no choice to keep searching in this random, haphazard manner. Hopefully pouring out my inner-most thoughts might lead to some clarity and help me find Avalone, the mythic destination of my journey.

Please understand that this blog is not for your entertainment, its my therapy. If my musings and battles should make you smile, frown, ponder or regurgitate, that would only be an unfortunate (or fortunate) byproduct and not my aim. Some of you may sense a kinship with my thoughts, some of you may relate to them, some of you may be reviled by them and some of you may scorn at the lack of intellectual depth. That is not my concern. Let this be my legal disclaimer-of-sorts. I promise nothing to anyone, only to be true to myself by displaying the innermost recesses of my mind for public consumption. Borrowing a title from one of my favourite books, this is the raw, uncensored World According To Sourabh. Welcome to my world.