Published: Verve Magazine, Features

Indian cinema has proven with its recent offerings that it can confidently step up to the plate and serve style that matches the character and mood of the movie rather than cook up a half-baked stew of fashion and metre. As Verve pointed out last year, couture has found a definite place in Indian cinema, whether through a subtle pair of designer shades or through a statement handbag. The good news is high fashion isn’t being used as candy floss on the big screen – it’s playing a specific role. Costumiers are equally willing to turn to village threads for authenticity, or design garish, bordering-on-the-vulgar outfits for a real-life character, as they are to doll up their actors in an international label. While there may not be any path-breaking moves here, costume design 2011 has been authentic, stylish and character-oriented. It sets the stage to push the envelope further, away from the sensationalist and dysfunctional ensembles of the past. Sitanshi Talati-Parikh picks out four movies that impressed with their true-to-the-grain styling, and Verve recreates these looks with young actors Sarah Jane Dias and Sahil Shroff.

AUTHENTIC RECREATION: MAUSAM
Lovleen Bains for Sonam Kapoor and Shahid Kapoor

Shades change with seasons and locations: the young lovers’ innocence is portrayed with the use of whites and creams in a wintry Punjab, picking up earthy hues along the way, through geographical displacement and character maturity. For instance, Sonam’s pale Kashmiri kurtas and dupattas soon reflect the happier shades of Punjab. When the characters meet again, in the church in Scotland, they are both, once more, in white. “Colour is almost a leitmotif in the film,” says Bains. Intentionally imperfect hand-stitching on Shahid’s college blazer, ageing of clothes to show wear, a fixed wardrobe with repetitions (Shahid had one pair of jeans through the first season except for the song sequences), researching the right length for Sonam’s kurtas, having Shahid’s sweaters woven by Punjabi village folk over gossip sessions and sarson ka saag, there is a thread of authenticity and rootedness in Lovleen Bains’ costume design of Mausam that is devoid of the trappings of Bollywood sensationalism.

URBAN SASS: ZINDAGI NA MILEGI DOBARA
Arjun Bhasin for Hrithik Roshan, Farhan Akhtar, Katrina Kaif, Abhay Deol and Kalki Koechlin

With the boys, each actor’s personal tastes and style are visible. Abhay Deol has a naturally leggy, geeky look. The design takes it a step further for his character, Kabir, with over-the-top nerd spectacles, quirky shirts – think birds-taking-flight – teamed up with sneakers and a backpack that he hoists defensively when grilled about his life’s choices. Hrithik Roshan’s beefy look is toned down with buttoned shirts as the audience can’t be allowed to question how Arjun, a work-obsessed investment banker finds time to go to the gym while ignoring his girlfriend. (Of course, the toned shirtless body on the hoardings makes for a happy box office draw.) As the story unfolds, he loosens up, and so do his hair and styling. Farhan Akhtar is pushed further into a character scripted for him: quirky, philosophical poet, entirely boho chic. Aviator shades, loose pants, kurtas and long-sleeved t-shirts teemed with a random neck scarf and hat that he sports, on occasion, even outside the film.

Every look comes together cohesively, billed directly to director, Zoya Akhtar’s vivid visualization and stylist Arjun Bhasin’s recreation: detailed character-oriented styling and couture that slides into everyday life. We just wish it could’ve been a little more experimental – there is no room for a subtle overflow like a preppy artist, for instance. While ZNMD’s picture-perfect styling serves to
perpetuate stereotypes rather than demolish them, it does so rather appealingly.

YOUTH CULT: ROCKSTAR
Aki Narula for Ranbir Kapoor

What stand out are his wardrobe staples (often repeated in the film for realistic styling): the snazzy anti-establishment military jacket, the Qawwal jackets – a call to his Sufi leanings, the mocking feather-topped Sadda Haq police shirt, all teamed with the clever individualistic version of loose patiala pants and kurtas – ultimate comfort wear. Love the fact that there is no leather or biker rock look – so often over done and stereotypical. What impresses is the refreshing take on a rock star. Packaged with Kapoor’s long, unkempt hair, accessorised with a chain around the neck that houses his first broken guitar string and guitar pick along with other souvenirs, Aki Narula, director Imtiaz Ali and Ranbir Kapoor have visualised possibly the iconic look of the year, to be imitated and popularised by young college kids until the next grunge look rocks its way in.

RETRO RENDERING: THE DIRTY PICTURE
Niharika Khan for Vidya Balan

From the tight short dresses, the pelvis-hugging flared pants, to the cleavage-baring cholis and retro shirts, everything shrieks for attention. Where Bobby’s Dimple Kapadia and Once Upon a Time in Mumbai’s Prachi Desai conveyed youthful, shy sensuousness with their midriff baring, polka-dot front-tie shirts, Balan is unabashedly lusty and in-your-face with her wantonness in similar outfits. And yet, caught in a moment of vulnerability, Balan’s character, Silk, makes the walk of shame the morning after being dumped for the wife, attempting to shrink into the folds of her red sequined gown; but in the harsh morning light, it’s too tight for comfort or respect.

Ironically, for Silk, it’s all synthetic and the glitz of sequined make-believe. From the dull, aged South Indian cottons of Reshma’s village wear, and the lamé and brightness of Silk the superstar, to the unflattering wardrobe of an alcoholic, the clothes define every turn in the script. As Khan points out, “The film is about the character’s relationship with her clothing and body – and Balan is brave, far braver than even I could be, to take on this role.” These are the clothes of a woman whose attitude speaks more than her wardrobe, and her wardrobe merely perpetuates her freewheeling attitude. Whether Silk tries to hide or take the world in her stride, her clothes reveal her spirit and character – loud, brash, irreverent, attention-seeking, ambitious and vulnerable – and always exposed.

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Published: Verve Magazine, February 2012, Features

Illustration by Bappa

MALE SUPERHEROES: 
the ultimate turn-on
There’s a general buzz in the air about the much-awaited release of Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight Rises where the costumed crime-fighter, Batman, is pushed to breaking point. The Amazing Spiderman, also releasing this summer, grapples with human and super-human crises. Superheroes are by default meant to be indestructible. That makes them sexy. But in the world of karmic angst and philosophical revolt, our superheroes are sexier in their existential and painfully human form. Maybe the allure lies in the fact that these are people who have transgressed above and beyond and are able to fight their own weaknesses and fears, and ours. Every cathartic battle makes them take a leap of fantasy in our psychedelic emotions – our subconscious mind becomes a battlefield of latent desires, every fight is a fight for survival. It’s about power. Not just at the obvious level, but at the level of hope. We hope that good can still win over evil. And yet, we hope that it’s a photo finish, because we are afraid of closure. If it all ends today, if everything is said, and all ends are nicely tied up what will we take home to our fantasies?

Indian superheroes are fantastical caricatures at best and over-the-top mystical drones at worst. There is no real superhero culture in commercial Indian cinema. We watch Ra.1 (2011) for Shah Rukh Khan’s exaggerated antics, Robot (2010) for Rajinikanth’s omniscience, and Drona (2008) for…nothing. In Indian cinema, the movie star is the superhero – he’s not an actor, he’s playing a larger-than-life persona. It gives him the ability to do anything, while also at a very simplistic level describing good and bad. Superheroes of Hollywood are a far more refined species, evolving over time to greater levels of depth and mystery. They have undergone many changes, versions and personalities to reach a point of climax. From a rather simplistic beginning during the time of the World War, where economic downturn led to a desire for a better life, a strong role model and a saviour for the average man; to returning in a new avatar: the confident anti-hero, standing up to the establishment, patriotic and powerful. Today we have a disturbed, grey superhero: who is battling his own demons, external and internal. No one can fight evil continuously without feeling the ramifications. Even in fantasy literature, Frodo and Harry Potter found themselves turning vicious under the brunt of carrying the malicious ring and destroying Horcruxes in Lord of the Rings – Return of the King and Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows respectively. Similarly, in superhero fiction, what makes the current Hollywood costumed crime-fighter worth his weight in gold is the intensity of his emotional drama. His mental battles are ours as we make constant switches between the right and wrong decision. What is good and bad? Who defines it? Is making a bad decision for the greater good okay? Most people don’t face the weight of decisions where cities and worlds get impacted. The superhero’s crisis is supreme. He fights more than his own anxieties; he fights a world’s anxieties.

The power to be in that position and the eventual control he wields makes him obviously an object of desire – but the real sexiness comes from how human he actually is. His turmoil appeals to the nurturing instinct in every woman, and the desire to have him win, willing him along mentally, grips a girl through another superhero summer. Gadgets, indestructibility, strength, resilience, super-intelligence, metaphysical abilities…and an inner reservoir of good make the superhero a classic stereotype of attractiveness. What’s a regular girl asking of a regular boy? Physical desirability, material comfort, good nature, the strength to be her man. Every man spends a lifetime trying to be a superhero and every girl waits for a man to become one for her.

Popularised by teenage comic-book geeks, the genre grew from strength-to-strength inside the mental fantasy of a boy who was yet to come into his own. He is exalted in this make-believe secret world of crime fighting, where his deepest desire of leading a life far removed from his own, where what he believed himself capable of in an alternate universe appears to become a reality. He isn’t the jock, but he’s the guy with secret powers to save the world. He will be an outcast, because he isn’t like them, he is more than them. He yearns for the cutest girl in school, but he can’t have her because of the life he must lead to complete his mission. Along the way, he becomes desirable – he is so focused and inherently strong, that women begin to notice him. We begin to take him seriously. And in there lies his fulfilment – he may be too busy to get anything more than a chaste kiss, but the very fact that he is desirable is enough for him. And it must be enough for us. His sexiness is in his unreachability, in his very unavailability.

FEMALE SUPERHEROES: 
a failed species

In this whole scheme of things, what’s a woman’s role? Superheroes have evolved in their failings and flaws, but their women remain the same – waiting to be rescued, waiting to be loved. Spiderman yearns for Mary Jane, but it seems trite that he can never have her, despite being a superhero, because he’s a superhero. Superheroes have a duty to protect and cherish, but no place for love. They cannot endanger their lady love by bringing them into their web of crime-fighting and uncovering their secret identity. Is that merely ironic or is it a foundation for martyrdom? It’s like a Mills and Boon romance with an unresolved ending. Maybe, as the Twilight romance has proven, endurance – in the age of free sex – is a turn on. And it is possible that we want the people we look up to, to not get it all – to suffer and pay the price of power. Who does the superhero come home to after a hard day’s work? Would his failings and existential pangs have been resolved had he been able to experience a companion’s love, advice and support? Is a woman a superhero’s Kryptonite or elixir?

The story of good versus evil is romantic – whether in its blatant form of a leading love interest or in its subconscious form of bromance (Batman and Robin) and in its metaphysical form of evil serenading good, calling it out and finding itself extinguished in the flame of its love. And in this romanticism, detractors find much to say. Spiderman 2 spent too much time philosophising and romancing and too little fighting crime, say some. Indian superheroes are supreme – they manage to dance and make merry love while all along giving a hearty fight to the supervillains.

A superheroine? Does she exist? Catwoman, Batgirl, Spiderwoman, Ice, Wonder Woman, Xena... the list is quite long but unimpressive. While more popular in their comic book versions than their cinematic ones, these fabulous women don’t leave a lasting impression (except for Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but when vampires get involved it’s a different story altogether) the way the men do – probably because the men watching want to be in power and not be overpowered. So there is waif-fu. A character dependent on waif-fu is best described as a pint-sized powerhouse: an attractive woman with moves that can bring a man to his knees. Literally. If she is captured or pinned she doesn’t stand a chance, making her a good kidnap victim and a key plot turner. We want our women strong, but our men stronger. In women men look for resilience, patience, love... no superhuman powers and strengths. Men want to be seen as protectors and women as their emotional saviours. One would think a supergirl with powers would be the eternal turn on, but apparently, a woman in power is far sexier than a woman with powers. Demi Moore in Disclosure (1994) wins over Halle Berry’s Catwoman, any day.

The comic book industry may actually be male-dominated – after all, a lack of female readership of comic books was suggested as the reason behind keeping ‘women in refrigerators’: an inside term among the comic book circles implying doing away with the female lead as a plot device. And can a woman be his partner in crime? Fan blogs yearn for a true female superhero, the kind that can be more than just a foil to the male lead. But that may not actually work. Take the case in popular fiction of famous sleuths: The Hardy Boys – if you plan to read them, can you complain about the female positioning (or the lack of)? Bringing Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys together, we have seen, never really worked – it is a recipe for disaster. How can the balance of power sit on the fence? Drew being rescued will make the Boys’ fans snicker with glee and annoy Drew’s fans; Drew playing power woman will turn off the boys. It wouldn’t be much different for a thrilling plot play of Batman and Catwoman, for instance. Coming together of male and female superheroes and crime fighters – unless it is for some fun on the side – is like treading on eggshells. One would have to be subservient to the other: there can be only one dominant hero, and by default and by popular vote, it tends to be the male hero. The fantasy industry does propagate stereotypes, but that isn’t surprising as most of popular culture works on the foundation of male supremacy. And in that world, women are but accessories to the greater good of mankind. And so we must lie.

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Why Vidya Balan is all set to be the female version of Aamir Khan in Bollywood....

Many actresses have looks and talents and a few have both. But what sets a handful apart is when audiences wait for their next as unique and different, as unsual choices, and worth watching. Post her initial success, Balan, like Khan floundered in a couple of commercial films that did her talent no merit. But quickly, she found her ground and stood it. She is treading the fine line between off-beat and commercially successful that possibly only Rekha could before here, where her films now make for coffee-table discussions.

What works for Balan is her sheer versatility. She can morph herself into the character, much like Khan, so that there isn't a trace of her real-life persona visible, besides her voice and features. No mannerisms, no particular nuances that one attributes to a person. She doesn't bring herself on screen, she only brings a character, and that too a finely-drawn, deeply nuanced character.

That is possibly the difference between a fine actor and a movie star. A movie star can't let go of their own persona, even momentarily on screen - think Shah Rukh Khan, Salman Khan and Kareena Kapoor - while a fine actor becomes whom he/she requires to be on screen. Many actors can don this persona for a specific kind of role - Ajay Devgn for gansta films, Abhishek Bachchan for Guru, Saif Ali Khan for Omkara, or Anil Kapoor for humorous, slimy characters like the one in Slumdog and MI4. And some like Saif Ali Khan and Anil Kapoor can even show a breadth of talent across the board. The others not listed here, like Ranbir Kapoor, are all extremely watchable, entertaining and even powerful in their screen presence, but they can't let you forget who it is on screen that's playing that role. Their personal presence often or momentarily overpowers their character.

To become another person on screen, and remain so through the entire film, over and over again through a wide range of films is possibly the mastery of only two actors at the moment in Hindi cinema - Aamir Khan and Vidya Balan. Their choices will always be followed, their movies will always have a definite audience, and their fans will remain discerning. That is not to say that there isn't a place for other actors and movie stars, but it is to point out that Khan and Balan will remain a class apart in their profession of choice - acting. They will remain actors before they become superstars or moviestars.

Movie references:

Vidya: Ishqiya, No One Killed Jessica, The Dirty Picture, Paa, Parineeta, Guru, Salaam-e-ishq

Aamir: All his films since he began doing a single film a year! (mid 90s), particularly the ones in the last decade.

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Verve Magazine, Social Chronicle, December 2011
http://www.verveonline.com/103/life/social-chronicle.shtml
(Illustration by Farzana Cooper)

If you are the latest in the line if PYTs to send your hubby a tiffin that contains pan-seared foi gras with a champagne berry jus, then you know you’ve arrived onto a culinary scene that’s flush with promise and ready to launch. Sitanshi Talati-Parikh describes the necessity of taking a kitchen rendezvous to the next step

Lately though, newbie home-makers carry recipes in their Ferragamo totes, and while sneezing up a bomb at the local Nature’s Basket, can easily tell one nut from another. Blame it on the latest reality TV craze: MasterChef Australia – far superior to its Indian franchise. As the country watches with bated breath which one of the accented Australians go down under and which ones make it to the top, the ladies are picking up a few tricks along the way, and the men are finding a new itch to scratch: the kind which involves a cutting board and a chef’s hat. After all, those men in chef whites skim over the fine line to count as men in uniform – and the way into a woman’s boudoir may well be through her stomach. Many a young man has now leaned over the bar and whispered suggestively into his lady love’s ear, ‘Your kitchen or mine?’

Now, you can’t visit a friendly home without getting a sprig of parsley in your Brie, or a dose of balsamic vinaigrette in your chilled watermelon balls. Recipes are snitched from one of the mushrooming gourmet restaurants in the city – the toasted pine nut, goat cheese and watermelon salad is The Tasting Room, I believe – and every meal is judged on the outlandishly clever gourmet competency of the home-maker-turned-chef. Does your beetroot come laced with chevre? Has it been garnished just so? If not, it’s not good enough to be plated up?

Play dates (for the uninitiated: the time like-minded infants spend getting to know each other) are also a fine chance to show off those pa(i)ring skills: preparing the finest meal for your child’s little friend – what could be a better sign of love? Ten-month-olds are developing a spectacular taste for the healthy good life – in the form of broccoli-and-spinach risotto garnished with fresh basil, a traditional (low-spice of course) massuman curry and zucchini-and-parmesan ravioli, washed down with a tall bottle of elaichi-flavoured formula milk.

And it’s not just the chic young men and women flaunting their culinary skills, it’s about ensuring that you have a system in place to replicate this sensational food – anytime and with the least bother. And to that end, my Bihari cook is now struggling with understanding my desire to replace a Bombay grilled chutney sandwich on Britannia bread with a Mediterranean sandwich on multigrain herb focaccia.  And not even adding his own home-made paneer? Instead, layering the green meat of a tasteless fruit that he imagines to be Bengali baingan together with hefty hunks of feta, grilled zucchini and eggplant licked with a killer harrissa paste! He grudgingly grasps that the need of the hour – and the possibility of survival – means his knowing his parmigiana from his au gratin.

Chefs are now finding themselves akin to moviestars: in a recent MasterChef India (Season 2) show, one of the contestants cried because she got to meet her idol Michelin-starred, New York-based, Indian chef Vikas Khanna, whom she then proceeded to serenade. With Indians and Sri Lankans making their token presence felt on international cooking shows stirring up a curry-and-flatbread once in a way, and with Michelin-starred chef Vineet Bhatia attempting to challenge the desi taste buds, it appears innovation is the call of the day. You can’t serve up chana-bhatura any more, but what you can do is throw in chickpea couscous, broccoli khichdi and bhatura-flavoured sorbet. Now that would be a meal worth writing home about.

No longer is it about spices – it is about tempering taste buds with the appropriate levels of flavour so that they (your taste buds) can regain their virginity – and discard the massacre of years of generous masalas and chilli powder. And it isn’t really about eating – or stomaching to satisfy – as it is about teasing and cajoling the culinary senses into a pleased stupor. Hunger is for the middle-class. Palate-teasers are what fine dining is all about. It is no wonder that young chefs returning from Manhattan, dipping their fingers into genteel party catering, serve up hors d'oeuvres the size of peanuts. So smoked mozzarella flatbreads are actually coin pizzas, the size of, well, the shiny new 10-rupee coin. Tapas are in, or haven’t you heard? A meal in one of Mumbai’s trendy restaurants can consist of merely ordering 17 tapas and needing a hefty bottle of wine to wash all that tiny, tasty food down to feel deliciously full. 

Wine pairing can’t be missed of course. No self-respecting 30-something will serve anything less than the perfect limited-edition international sipper that goes best with the course being served. All along, the conversation tinkles with very profound discussions on Chinese politics, Rushdie’s literary smackdowns, and whether the Riesling would work better with the coconut soufflé or the champagne tart. My ultimate brain wave is to serve up a passion-fruit-and-lemongrass Sangria. It’s the easy way out of pretentious course-drinking – and is somehow that crass, bohemian sort of thing one can do, to remain cool after all that soul-searching food.

Talking about soul-searching food, the gourmands believe in cooking from your heart, and with a dollop of love. How much can you cook from your heart, when your stomach is empty and how much love can emanate from that drop of extra virgin olive oil that you mayn’t get from your grandmother’s hand-churned ghee?

The thrill lies in the pleasure-seeker and the social climber. After all, can you really be eating khana-khazana-type makhani food in your Jimmy Choos and Herve Leger? It is worth sharing Gouda and Roma tomato notes, if merely to prove that the world is your personal oyster and you have an international, exclusive and very uber chic stew cooking in your state-of-the-art kitchen. And after that dinner party full of whispered conversation, clinking flutes and a sense of social accomplishment, where the senses have been thrilled with that one lactose-free beetroot foam tortellini, you are more than likely to find yourself kicking back furtively with a hearty macaroni baked dish, folded with about 250 grams of Amul cheese, and a little kiss of ketchup.

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Just watched Love2HateU with the celebrity guest being Chetan Bhagat. I feel rather bad for the hater, the poor girl stood no chance against Bhagat’s generous Gandhi-ism. He was so beatifically patronizing and condescending that I wonder she didn’t throw something at him. But that’s Chetan Bhagat – a huge icon and idol to some and a huge eyebrow raiser to others.

Bhagat’s success – and he is astonishingly successful – is because he has crawled through the cracks and found his target audience. And what a target audience that is. The non-readers. Instead of churning out a high-brow book filled with beautiful metaphors and aiming for the Booker, Bhagat does what he does best – appeal to the section of the readers that is undiscerning. But that’s not to say that his writing has no merit. It’s just unpalatable to a reader who wants something more – an enhanced literary experience, if you must.

Bhagat makes no pretensions about his literary aspirations, but he appears to consider you with pitiful glances if you question his success. He basks in his own stupendous success, often lying on a raft of self-appreciation, and what irks people is that his raft never, ever capsizes. Top models can have a bad hair day, brilliant directors can have a box office flop, the Sensex can crash, but Chetan Bhagat only goes from strength to strength.

His hater questioned the audience and their intelligence. One girl defensively answered, “Ya we read other stuff. But I don’t want to read Rushdie. I’d much rather read Bhagat.” So you have a polarized readership of Indians. The ones who read Rushdie or Amitav Ghosh and the ones who read Bhagat. Bhagat has automatically found his masses, found his safety in numbers and addressed the people who look for easy escapism in reading and not for anything challenging. Bhagat is proud of the fact that he has made people who don't read, read. Readers are appalled by the fact that these non-readers have begun with reading his books and set their literary standard there. But each to his own, right?

And in a democratic world, readers should have that choice. Readers should have beach novels, glossy magazines, Mills & Boon and Bhagat. It isn’t annoying that Bhagat’s books are valid reading options for people. What’s annoying is how much people like them, and give him a reason to keep going. And it would be far less annoying if he didn’t think so much of himself. “I’m happy to be on this show (Love2HateU) because my new book has just released and I want to know that there are people here who don’t like what I do, not just people who enjoy my books.” Oh stuff it.

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Dangerous Liasons

Verve Man, October 2011

Some say women are suckers for punishment, others believe that the young rebellious teen attracts the irresponsible Willoughby, while a grown woman is always in want of a decent man. History is witness to many a woman falling flat in the face while chasing a rogue beau. Sitanshi Talati-Parikh examines the shining Indian silver screen examples of lovable dangerous men

Straight-laced men don’t make for racy fantasies, skipping heartbeats and sexual tension. They lack the edge, the drive, the sizzle, the power to tug at our heartstrings and wreak sweet havoc with our lives. Women are attracted to danger like a moth to a flame – there has to be reason that phrase has become a cliché. There’s something inordinately sexy about a man who knows what
he wants and will stop at nothing to get it. Getting a playboy’s attention is not necessarily about a notch on the belt as much as it is about being alluring enough to grab his attention. And deep down inside, every woman attracted to a naughty bloke feels that somewhere, there is a chance that she can fix him. That she can be the person he will surrender to, will change for, and will eventually become some version of the Utopian male they have in their head. And so they all fall.

They Work With Passion

This obsession with the men who are not quite toeing the line possibly began with Amitabh Bachchan’s Angry Young Man. Not a bad lot, but a man who is roaring with discontent – he’s full of testosterone, a desire to avenge all that’s wrong. He’s not passive. He’s not even passive-aggressive. He’s raging male. With a whole bunch of adolescent hormones. You know he has passion – for what he believes in – and you can easily imagine how that would translate – in bed and out of it. Shahenshah’s (1988) avenger became Shah Rukh Khan in Baazigar (1993). He played his hands, the cards turned in his favour and he got his own back, albeit with a massive amount of gore. The cinema of the 70s through the 80s threw up seething, vengeful heroes, those who were not apologetic about treading on a few lives. Recently, Aamir Khan’s Ghajini (2008) – with Khan’s character looming large over the messy revenge scene – in his own words, brought back the action genre with a Dabangg (2010).

They Steal Our Hearts

With the exception of chiseled-chin Vinod Khanna who debuted in cinema as the bad guy, it is only post 2000 that we have become somewhat sophisticated about our wayward heroes. Hrithik Roshan in Dhoom 2 (2006) oozed charm and stunning sex appeal – he didn’t even have an excuse about being bad, he just was.

Luckily though he wasn’t out to kill anyone, just cop a few shiny ones. Maybe it is the Dhoom franchise that has successfully converted our picture-perfect heroes into those with grey shades. Who cares if the guy you date is a bit of a thief? If he looks half as good as John Abraham from Dhoom (2004) or Roshan, or can provide half as much intellectual stimulation as Aamir Khan (the upcoming villain in Dhoom 3)…that would be a love life worth writing home about. Moot to point out that no one really notices the unshaven, paunchy good guy, the cop: Abhishek Bachchan. Has anyone ever wanted the good guy to lose as badly as in the Dhoom movies?

They Kill Us Softly With One Look

Going back a few years, can one deny that Saif Ali Khan actually became sizzling hot on screen in 2004 – in his comeback era – in the completely negative role Ek Hasina Thi? Which girl wouldn’t succumb to his charms? He made being a rogue look cool. And soon after in Being Cyrus (2005). All this, while maintaining his status quo as a premier romantic hero; and ironically, if not surprisingly, consolidating his screen appeal with repeated negative roles – including that of the recent clandestine terrorist in Kurbaan (2009).

They Play Good Cop, Bad Cop With Our Emotions

Anil Kapoor in Ram Lakhan. Was he good or was he bad? It’s hard to tell, even after watching the classic repeatedly. In Shahenshah, Amitabh Bachchan played an ineffectual corrupt cop, while fighting for justice, out of the system. Women go weak-kneed over a man in uniform, especially if it’s an errant cop out to play Robin Hood. The success of Dabangg – and Salman Khan shaking his uniformed body to national hysteria – heralds the revival of cop dramas and high-risk love lives.

They Cleverly Win Us Over

Ishwar ‘Langda’ Tyagi in Omkara (2006) completely took the movie to different heights, and the disgust one felt for the character was smudged with grudging admiration. You give a man brains and his mental prowess is bound to not go unnoticed.

They Wield Power Over Our Thoughts

Ajay Devgn made underworld dons appear cool – with an enviable display of control, smoothness and above all, power. As Al Pacino proved in Scarface (1983) that power attracts women, Devgn proved it with Company (2002) and a few years later with Once Upon A Time In Mumbai (2010). In fact, in OUATIM, Emraan Hashmi managed to keep his girl by his side despite ill-treating her. Katrina Kaif’s character fell in love with the Pratap politicians – played by Ranbir Kapoor and Arjun Rampal – who preferred to work the wrong side of the system in Raajneeti (2010). Forget women, even film-maker and actor Farhan Akhtar admits a strange fascination with Don’s character, leading him to remake the old classic. There is a natural instinct in women – as much as they like to nurture, they like to be protected. And who better to protect them than an unstoppable man who can rule a better part of the world?

Their Good Outweighs Their Bad?

Movies on real-life characters tend to tread on eggshells, portraying a primarily positive perspective of characters that have been perceived as heading down the wrong path. Guru (2007), for instance, portrayed the protagonist, Gurubhai (loosely based on Dhirubhai Ambani) in a very favourable light, in the role of an inspiring leader. Sarkar (2005), where Amitabh Bachchan plays a character assumed to be based on Bal Thakeray, creatively designed like The Godfather, showed him to be a man of steel and goodness parcelled with a lack of concern for human life.

They Win Our Sympathy

While Shiney Ahuja’s character in Gangster (2006) and Sanjay Dutt’s Raghu in Vaastav (1999), were all about the fallen man – looking desperately for love’s respite or salvation, Imran Khan’s Kabir in Kidnap (2008) saved face with his inner good guy winning over the bad. John Abraham touched a soft spot in his I’m-a-terrorist-but-a-good-guy in New York (2009). You may not be able to love these characters, but they do win your sympathy – and strangely that is a way into women’s hearts, sometimes.

They Need Rescuing

A step up from the sympathy vote is actually pulling them out of the quagmire. Abhay Deol has made it his prerogative to be the lack-lustre hero – think Dev D (2009) in particular – who’s always finding himself and losing his love. His women have to deal with his incapacities, and many love him despite it. Sanjay Dutt’s Ballu in Khalnayak (1993) immortalized the hero who loved, lost and died a pitiful love life.

They Have Converted from Lover to Lover Boy

You know this has to be about Salman Khan. He made every girl fall in love with Prem from Maine Pyar Kiya (1989) and then ran away from this good guy image, and embraced that of the playa. He played the field in every possible movie – even played the role of the playing-the-field-mentor in No Entry (2005), and carried a successful bunch of romantic comedies on merely his inability to remain faithful.

And so it goes that there’s nothing like a wayward love interest to make life a bunch of prickly roses. And there’s probably a make-your-bed-and-lie-on-it pun there somewhere….

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PS: Font remind you of Def Leppard any one? It's not identical, but quite reminiscent.

Check out a great interview with the artist here: http://onesmallwindow.com/interviews/those-cool-rockstar-posters/

Some related links:

Grzegorz Domaradzki’s official website
Grzegorz’s Vector Movie Posters series.
Rockstar – Official Website

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Verve Magazine, July, 2011
Online Link: http://www.verveonline.com/99/fashion/trend.shtml
   
The masala dailies have wrung their words out trying to understand what happened last year. Heavyweights sunk at the box office and a handful of unknowns, nobodies and alternates walked away with the entire silver screen pie. Sitanshi Talati-Parikh decodes the enigma of the mega-budget losses and small-movie wins

Recently, film critic Rajeev Masand wrote a column deriding the excesses of the Indian film industry. He spoke about the glory of big budgets – including the cost of taking star wives and their entourage shopping – being washed out in the final tally at the box office, when the film faces the music of a silent box office register. While he was talking about an upcoming film, it is bringing back into focus the hot topic of discussion – namely the cold slush of the big-budget movies that failed miserably, against the refreshing warmth of the surprise hits: small films that made it huge.

Like a sudden bad hangover from the ’90s, Indian cinema is facing a crisis of money: too much money chasing an average story, a tired movie star, and refurbished content. The lucrative movie-making business has created an illusionary clout of movie stars and divas, gift-wrapped with zero professionalism and huge egos. These stars continue to be bankable at the box office, which is why big banners are willing to turn a blind (albeit bleeding) eye to their demands. After all, at the end of the day everyone rakes in the big bucks and trills home happy.

Suddenly though, expensive movies are not enough to attract the audience: with a refreshing sensibility that one wished would extend to our political choices, moviegoers have shunned some of the biggest movies last year. Big in the form of stars, directors, production houses, and production costs (see box for details). Think Kites, Tees Maar Khan, Guzaarish, Raavan. Before that, Saawariya, Blue, What’s Your Raashee? and even My Name Is Khan didn’t fare as well as one would have expected or the producers preferred to suggest. What went wrong? The formula elements were there: masala, big actors, varied concepts, established directors, expensive marketing and sufficient money chasing all of it to get a rise out of the staunchest movie buff.

How big can the movie be? The money being poured into the movies has become ostentatious without any sign of equal returns. This has led to a sudden flow of in-movie advertising, a desperate bid to sell music, cable and overseas distribution rights to the highest bidder. The problem lies in production costs. When a great amount of money is poured into lavish film sets, movie star salaries and their entourage fees, shooting abroad, and with relaxed schedules, it becomes impossible to recover those costs. And many times, the glitz outdoes the actual story. In the age of information overload, content is king: a good movie primarily needs a good script to work, the rest will follow. Udaan, one of the best movies last year, did well despite the odds; and others lost out despite the factors in their favour.

The final tally
It is not so much the audience that is changing as much as the amount of money being poured into a film that is challenging the final tally. Does a movie deserve that kind of money? Take Blue, or Kites for instance. Both gambled big, banking on the larger-than-life phenomenon: hoping that international locales (ridiculous when you see Kites which is shot in a barren desert) and a carrot of expensive productions would be a box-office draw. Possibly with the fact that much of the audience is now far more well-travelled, satellite television provides enough entertainment in the form of international scenery, viewers don’t necessarily want to go to the theatre merely to see American scapes or underwater corals.

Shah Rukh Khan’s RA.One, rumoured to have a budget of Rs one billion, makes it one of India’s most expensive films. Releasing later this year, Khan claims that the ambitious movie calls for special effects (collaborating with international teams) and cutting corners just won’t do the trick. With satellite rights already reportedly sold to Star India for Rs 40 crore, the film is playing the high stakes. Even if Khan magnanimously feels that he is setting the standard for technically well-produced movies and is ready to bear the costs of being such a trend-setter, no one can hope to gamble with big numbers and go in ready to fail.

More than the death of the blockbuster mega banner film, as some reports are willing to tout, what has emerged is a license to live for the small or medium film. Hrishikesh Mukherjee’s ’70s and ’80s saw the popularity of small films that spoke to the finer sensibilities of a discerning audience. Lately there have been slick mega-budget movies appealing to the grandeur of an emerging and moneyed India. Ironically, rather than get washed away in the gloss of a mega film, smaller films now, once again, have a greater chance of surviving, not only because of a good product, but particularly because their budgets are controlled. The big budget movies’ wins are meagre, their losses massive – so it’s not surprising that established production houses like Excel Entertainment (run by the Akhtars and Ritesh Sidhwani) are willing to stake their bets on smaller films like Karthik Calling Karthik, to give them room for one Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara, releasing this month.

Where the star cast is willing to share in the profits than take a big upfront fee also makes a difference in the movie business – think Aamir Khan, Farhan Akhtar, Shah Rukh Khan, Imran Khan. Guzaarish, for instance, started out in the red – after paying out massive amounts to the three heavyweights: director Sanjay Leela Bhansali, and actors Hrithik Roshan and Aishwarya Rai Bachchan, added to which the cost of making the lavish film, it was left with a massive total to bat towards. Even with a decent opening weekend, you cannot lay your bets on pulling in those kind of numbers. What may change the dynamics of the game is producers getting smarter and not trigger-happy stretching their purse strings for stars like Akshay Kumar who demand larger amounts and who believe in cross-bargaining, or even those directors, like Sanjay Leela Bhansali who genuinely think they are worth that much.

A talking point
Inevitably, the success of a film gets measured by numbers and the total pull from the box office. Which means that for a movie to be successful in a wide and diverse audience mix, it needs to satisfy various segments of society – which is impossible for one trying to be different. It then becomes obvious that such a film must be made with a small budget, so that the niche audience it is catering towards will accept it, and it can recover costs and possibly encourage others to take baby steps forward. There are few films in that mould which can satisfy enough people to become a talking point and generate sufficient traction to make it successful across the board. Udaan is one such film – like Iqbal (2005) was at one point of time. This works because an inspirational story has a universal appeal.

Certain films have recently faced flak because of too much ‘Hollywoodisation’. Kites took a Hollywood-type story, placed it in a Hollywood-style location and brought in technicians and a look from that part of the world. Besides the failings of the story, direction and editing, what didn’t resonate with the Indian audience was the fact that the mindset of the characters also became Western. As the Yash Raj and Dharma stable has proved time and time again, the locales and the clothes can be Western, but the identity and characterisation shouldn’t. While the movie may be echoing how a certain portion of the urbane youth is beginning to feel, it doesn’t resonate with the Indianness of the Indian culture. The audience seems to prefer an aspirational look and styling, with a strong Indian sensibility. Possibly a reason why Tanu Weds Manu or a Band Baaja Baaraat scored over Anjaana Anjaani and Break Ke Baad, despite the fact that the former had an average production and the latter a slick and well-styled product.

Within the milieu of an Indian sensibility, movies that were of the different mould, may not have been runaway successes, have nevertheless prepared us to accept experimental stories: Karthik Calling Karthik, Ishqiya, Anjaana Anjaani, Wake Up Sid, Rocket Singh, Love, Sex Aur Dhoka, Dev D. Rather than embrace the old formula, others would now be more willing to tread unknown waters. Would Delhi Belly – releasing this month – stand a chance if Aamir Khan Productions, UTV and Imran Khan were not associated with it? Possibly not – there is something reassuring about a safe bet. The viewers trust Aamir’s choice, and there will be people willing to see – even if out of sheer curiosity – what he has to offer next.

Great expectations
That leads one to expectations. One expects that a movie that has a big name or multiple big names attached to it would be good. So heavyweights act like our elected representatives – we trust them to be discerning in their choices, to provide us entertainment. And sometimes, as was the case with Madhuri Dixit, we also believe that they can make even an ordinary film superlative by their mere presence. The basic premise when we know big names are associated with a project is ‘How bad can it be? It’s worth a watch.’ This is what producers bank on to recover their costs in the first weekend, and it is what makes stars feel invincible.

And the small films that became conversation starters, centrepieces and endnotes? Besides a fresh script or perspective, what they have in common is that they have at least one big banner backing them and possibly even a big production house overseeing things – Udaan (UTV), Once Upon A Time in Mumbaai (Balaji Motion Pictures), Peepli [Live] (UTV and Aamir Khan Productions), Ishqiya (Shemaroo and Vishal Bharadwaj Pictures), Band Baaja Baaraat (Yash Raj Films), Tanu Weds Manu (Viacom 18 Motion Pictures). UTV readily picks what would appear to be more experimental films – think its round up of Mumbai terror movies in 2008, while other big banners are following suit by adding smaller films to their stable to balance the money being poured into a bigger venture. UTV Motion Pictures has actually been a part of a good number of the losing films last year, but has saved face with the popularity of the small films it backed.

Brand value
Would the backing of notable production houses attract top stars to milder scripts? Maybe, if they didn’t worry so much about their brand value dipping with lower sign-up fees, they (and then in return big banners) would be willing to hedge their bets on smaller films. Would Aishwarya have done films like Chokher Bali or Raincoat (even though it meant working with acclaimed Rituparno Ghosh) in the middle of her career trajectory, had she had plum offers in hand at the time? Possibly not. At a certain stage of stardom, movie stars tend to become particularly risk-averse, afraid to jinx a happy mainstream run. Which is ironic from the tally last year – all the top stars have struggled to make it through, while non-A-list actors like Kangna Ranaut, Anushka Sharma and Madhavan, and a new breed of directors have scored big – simply by having nothing to lose.

Another recent game-changer: in a rapid movement, social media has played a role in reducing the impact of big names versus good movies. With previews and online buzz allowing a good film to gain traction possibly even before the first weekend opening or very quickly during the first weekend, it stands a fair chance of doing well overall, and continuing for a longer time in cinemas and then negotiating a more competitive price for DVD and cable rights. On the flipside, social media still only reaches out to a few multiplex audiences in the urban sectors, lacking a strong overall impact.

At the end of the day, it’s some bad choices that have made this a conversation piece: people will not stop being drawn to the glamour of huge films. As we have seen, the buzz about Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara more than sizzles, with an overwhelming amount of names (Hrithik Roshan, Katrina Kaif, Farhan and Zoya Akhtar) and their unique combinations, including Abhay Deol and Kalki Koechlin, guaranteeing a sizeable opening. With the recent disappointments though, what will happen is that smaller films, which would ordinarily be considered niche and maybe even risky propositions, will now become more attractive to audiences who are looking for more challenging views. So the chances are the urbane audiences will watch Zindagi… and Delhi Belly this month with equal gusto. As long as there are some steady players: financiers, producers, directors and actors ready to take the plunge with small, experimental, unique films, willing to adjust budgets for the cause of the film rather than their pockets or egos, there will continue to be a breeding ground for good cinema. Where cinema remains an art form before it becomes a business.

BIG GUNS WHO MISSED THE SHOT

7 KHOON MAAF
Vishal Bharadwaj, Priyanka Chopra,
UTV Spotboy

VEER
Salman Khan,
Eros International

ACTION REPLAYY
Aishwarya Rai Bachchan, Akshay Kumar, Vipul Shah,
PVR Pictures

GUZAARISH
Sanjay Leela Bhansali, Hrithik Roshan, Aishwarya Rai Bachchan,
UTV Motion Pictures

RAAVAN
Mani Ratnam, Abhishek and Aishwarya Bachchan, Reliance Big Pictures,
Madras Talkies

LAFANGEY PARINDEY
Deepika Padukone, Neil Nitin Mukesh,
Yash Raj Films

KITES
Hrithik Roshan, Rakesh Roshan, Anurag Basu,
Reliance Big Pictures

BREAK KE BAAD
Kunal Kohli Productions, Reliance Big Pictures,
Deepika Padukone and Imran Khan

ANJAANA ANJAANI
Priyanka Chopra, Ranbir Kapoor

KHELEN HUM JEE JAAN SE
Ashutosh Gowariker, Abhishek Bachchan and Deepika Padukone,
UTV Motion Pictures

TEES MAAR KHAN
Farah Khan Productions, UTV Motion Pictures,
Akshay Kumar and Katrina Kaif

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Any movie that has a tagline “Sh!t Happens” is doing two things very knowingly: alienating a section of people, and getting another section of people curious. Possibly only a gamble Aamir Khan is willing to take: selling a movie about potty stuff and a stomach condition. There will be those who will consider him not quite off the rocker, and those who will grudgingly drag themselves into the cinemas next weekend to see what’s up. Or down.

Aamir’s movies would make for a brilliant marketing study in themselves. They use elements of the films very carefully, carving a niche audience even before the release – in this case, possibly queasy college kids – and are always unique. He never tends to repeat himself, and what is fabulous: he never openly sells himself. He sells his intellect, which people have seen and appreciated over the years; he sells his choices, which people have grown to trust; he sells tenets of the movie that may not be obviously saleable and he, ingeniously, makes them saleable.

He waited many years to release this film, even queuing it behind his production house’s other releases, so much so that people got tired waiting for it to release, rumours began spreading about tension brewing between the director and the producers. When he finally decided to release the film, which is a short English-language film (also being dubbed in local languages) without an interval and with no songs (besides background music), he worked in an alternative promotional strategy.

1. Imran Khan, now a household name, is selling sex in the movie. Crushing the ‘nice kid – now married and settled’ image, Imran gets down and dirty in the movie.

2. There are a good number of expletives used – particularly in the song which has been touted as a cult classic 'Bhaagbhaagdkbose'. The ‘good kids’ of the film, claim to not know these words and their meanings. Aamir suggests an ‘A’ rating. The censor boards get into overdrive. See video of the song (my personal favourite): http://youtu.be/8OVGbdOG7dA

Also: Selling reverse psychology. Telling people not to watch something is like a sure fire way to get the people to come see what they are told not to watch. Snap.

3. The actors remain straight-faced and yet severely dry and mocking in their humour when being interviewed. (See @thevirdas’ tweets about conversations with a journalist)

4. The songs. THE SONGS. For a movie that has no songs, the songs are a raging hit.  Shot recently, they are cleverly envisioned – each one a distinct and innovative study in youth culture, popular lingo, satire and clever misconceptions. Music and lyrics, bang on. Cult classics in the making.

5. Soft selling. What does the youth who will be coerced to watching this movie want? T-shirts. Funky, irreverent t-shirts, selling the Delhi Belly brand. Imran and the others are busy doing that.

6. Food: Delhi Belly refers to a stomach condition. You find the Delhi Belly trio, ironically being photographed at gourmet and fine dining places – presumably to now avoid getting a ‘delhi belly’?

7. Irreverence. Therein lies the foundation on which this film is built. Three kids go through sh*t. And hopefully come out of it alive. With the name, the songs, the attitude and the overall marketing, Delhi Belly is selling a good degree of irreverence.

8. Item Number: Aamir, is for once, selling himself. An item number done 70s disco style. #MAJORWin. See video: http://youtu.be/IGYA_P7ZHcw

9. I like a movie that sells it's men rather than it's women. A gratifying change. However 'shitty' it might be.

Now it’s just up to the target audience to lap it up.

Aamir has a way of making films and concepts iconic and into a brand. His auteur, unlike other directors, isn’t a kind of film, it’s merely good cinema – path-breaking, unique, and never cut from the common cloth. The success of his films has enough to do with his marketing brainwaves, experience and perfection at the editing table as it does with the film itself. SO much nicer than cheap marketing pot shots that many other films are reduced to.

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Recently two celebrity talk shows that once reigned supreme have returned to television in a brand new avatar. Simpering, buttering and at best cajoling their guests into letting go of certain inhibitions to guarantee TRPs.

Lately, Simi Garewal – famous for her Rendezvouz With Simi show, where she played agony aunt to all her celebrity guests – got them to cry on her shoulder, laugh and reminisce all while holding their hands, giving them a chance to open up their lives, loves and unhappiness in front of the entire nation, is back with Simi selects India’s Most Desirable. This time, she uses the show to reestablish her iconic status and that of her guests. She repeats frequently in the show why she considers her guests ‘India’s most desirable.’ I think we would know why a handful of top Bollywood stars are desirable. Do give the audience some credit. She uses the show to suggest how Ranbir Kapoor, whom she is obviously incredibly fond of, possibly even charmed by, is actually really a sweet little Mama’s boy, very acceptably interested in women. What’s amusing is how Ranbir manages to charm her and keep her charmed throughout. And we shouldn't even get to the part where Mama actually comes in with her endearments for Son. Simi’s botoxed and sugar-coated avatar give the audience less of a chance to see the real person, and more of a chance to see the avatar she wishes to – or has promised her guests to – unfold before the audience. Add a reassuring tarot card reader, a live audience that is highly impressionable and possibly enamoured by star power, and you have a celebrity I’m-so-famous-that-it-hurts show.

Karan Johar’s Koffee With Karan was funny, irreverent and iconic in that he managed to make a chat show into a gossip session that allowed his guests a ‘get out of jail free’ card to be as bitchy and frank as they liked when they did their rapid fire round. This time around, KWK is like a badly made cup of weak Koffee – quoted from my earlier post Decaffeinated Koffee With Karan:

“After a long hiatus, Johar is back with season 3 of KWK, and despite being much awaited, it fails to satisfy. It is disappointing, just like his movies: dramatic without meat, one-sided and microcosmic. Where you look for incisive questions, probing analysis and incurable wit, you realize that the show now balances on Johar's relationship with his guests - so he treads on eggshells, pleases them, praises them and it becomes a mutual back-scratching hour. The questions are boring, dull and jaded - do we really care how some actors rate other actors? Do we want to know about only 5 actors - the Khans and Akshay Kumar? With only the bitchiness or sharp wit, straight-faced untruths and simpering (respectively) of Kareena, Saif, Ranbir and Priyanka provide some entertainment or relief, the show falls completely flat for the same reasons his movies fail to excite: they remain relevant to an older time, they assume only 5 people of either sex exist in the industry or Karan's world, the format hasn't got updated with anything but blatant in-show marketing of advertisers and sponsors.”

Note: Deepika comes into Simi’s show advertising blatantly for Neutrogena. She goes to Karan’s show taking Nescafe breaks – another one of her brands. Simi and Karan openly advertise these brands on their show. Maybe the hosts/ channels are afraid they won't make the TRPs or the advertising revenue the normal way, so need to add this extra marketing to the mix?

What is it about these smart, savvy and experienced talk show hosts that they find themselves sinking into mediocre hosting? Pressure from that fact that they are a part of the same industry? Wouldn’t it be far more interesting if an outsider quizzed these people, without having to worry about having to make movies with them in the future? Or to not have to face that odd, cringing feeling when the guests have to choose from a list of tired-and-famous directors, and when the talk show host puts himself on that list. In a spectacular display of self-preoccupation. So the hosts are full of themselves, the guests are full of themselves, the hosts are insisting on the popularity of their guests with audience clips, accolades and praises – and in all of that, the viewer is left feeling…very-taken-for-a-starry-ride-to-nowehere-ish. Oh snap.

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Goa, super famous for its beaches and laid-back life, is also home to one of the rainest monsoons this side of the country. Caught in its early showers, here is what Goa looks like when it rains: lush, green and not too beachy. Be prepared for chlorophyl overkill!

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1. Writing the truth.

2. Quoting facts as they are and not as you would want them to be.

3. Making an effort: to verify and qualify.

Three basic things that it appears the Hindustan Times' reporters seem to lack. While a gross negligence towards facts seems to be a common ground among the harried young journalists of today, a happy desire to pick up words and fling them about into convenient sentences has become an art form that should go on their resume.

Take the case of young Aakriti Sawhney, art and lifestyle reporter with HT City, Delhi. Doing a breathtakingly insicive piece (with Damini Purkayastha) on how Subodh Gupta isn't hacking it in Sotheby's anymore, they appear to have collected some quotes, and possibly feeling the need to add some more spice to the piece, decided to pick a random tweet by me and play scrabble with the words, ending up with a sentence with an entirely different meaning from it's original intent. Of course, they didn't bother to check with me (why would they when they planned to play switcheroo with the words) nor did they qualify who I am or use my full name - would have taken too much effort to click search on Google. After such hard work, here is what it looks like:

For those unfamiliar with Twitter, @Daffynitions is a clever alternative dictionary that light-heartedly invents alternative definitions of common words. A recent one was: "Symbolism:  a great excuse for having a sink full of dirty dishes.” I found that funny. And is also reminded me - IRONICALLY - of an artist whom I respect, Subodh Gupta. Famous for his installations of pots and pans, it seems ironic in the context of the 'Daffynition'. Hence my tweet: "Subodh Gupta's pots and pans, anyone? #art “@Daffynitions: Symbolism: a great excuse for having a sink full of dirty dishes.”

Ms. Sawhney and Ms. Purkayastha, thrilled with the discovery of such a potentially juicy misquote, decided to take this innocent tweet into their clever hands and came up with this concoction: "Even fans are no longer buying it [Subodh Gupta and other artists' worth]. 'SG’s pots and pans, anyone? A great excuse for having a sink full of dirty dishes,' tweeted Sitanshi."
See full article: http://www.hindustantimes.com/Subodh-s-sotheby-s-shock/Article1-704468.aspx

I am left speechless (or not) at journalism full of such integrity and honesty.

At the moment, I am waiting for them to remove the words associated with my name, a polite request to follow the first 3 points above, if possible.

Update: Hindustan Times has removed the incorrect quote and has also issued a corrigendum.

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To save time, we chose, on the spur of the moment, to go to the local park nearby instead of our country club. By we, I mean hubby, baby and I. As we got out of our chauffer-driven car, assembled our one-touch baby travel system in front of curious eyes and strolled into the park, I could see what a picture we made. Designer shades, sundress, chi chi baby outfit...it felt incongruous among the many who strolled along people-watching by the sea. As I reached forward to wipe some baby drool, I looked up and met the eyes of a simple, sari-clad lower-middle-class lady, who was resting her feet at a nearby park bench. She had a baby tucked into the crook of her arm.

There would be many differences between the upbringing of that child and mine, largely those material in nature - those of opportunities. And yet they looked peaceful. Flashback to a conversation with a few new mothers, who spoke in feverish agony about the sorry state of schools in the city - the horrendous situation of demand and supply, where their kids may not make it to the best schools, may have to do with second tier and even then wheedle their way in. How different is life for a person with means and one without? Both often need to snatch opportunites and push to get in - just to different places. One believes that the best is a basic right, the other hopes that somewhere along the way a better life may appear.

What is a better life? A bigger classroom, a fancy school bus, a posh car, smarter teachers? Life itself is a great teacher and sometimes, we forget the most basic of lessons. We are all born with the right to live. How we choose to live is a complex twist of fate, luck and opportunity. Motherhood can't be that different across the board - every baby will poop, cry and laugh while learning to crawl. Possibly one will poop in the comfort of Pampers and soft linen and soundless airconditioning. But at the end of the day, each process remains the same. Their self-worth should be independent of the qualtity of their lives, rather should depend upon their desire to be someone.

Can the two be separated? Aren't we constantly defining ourselves by our ability to attract wealth and power and the symbols of such derivates? I believe a society's material image emerges from the "best" that we want to give our children. We believe that a fluffy eiderdown will make a better person or human being, when maybe a hard bed is what is required. (I don't mean that one should make a child suffer the rigours of life when there is no need to.) The fancy trappings are - if we admit it - for ouselves. To make ourselves feel better about being parents. In our desire to provide the best, we often create the worst. A society of weakening self-worth. All children need love, affection and food. The rest is - as the word states - immaterial.

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Our democracy has given us the ability to make so many choices - a few decades ago, we chose to leave for better opportunities elsewhere, recently we choose to return because of plum prospects in India. But whenever we have to choose to be alert citizens, we choose the easy road - the road of oblivion, escapism and feigned ignorance. Even worse - something I am guilty of, too - cynicism and haplessness.

When an elderly man decides to fast, we tweet. When scams are exposed, we update our status in horror. When our status quo is breached we respond with anger, criticism even shock, but no solutions.

We, the urban intelligentsia, have found no way out, and have preferred to let the zoo animals that are our bureaucrats and politicians rule roost while we hatch eggs - shaking our intellectual manes over the evils at fine soirées.

We may #tweetforwickets in a strong show of national spirit, we may cry in emotional joy at national wins, but we make no move to change what's wrong.

It's true, the answers are often not with us, there needs to be a collective consciousness that decides to take no more sh*t. Everytime there is someone who inspires us, or something that appalls us, we make a stir, think about a rising, and then, in one collective motion, sit our asses right back into our plush la-z-boy recliners.

It's unfortunate that we have the option to leave, or the money to ignore the crap that goes on in our backyard, or the cynicism to empty every full glass - because the moment we run out of our options, we may be fasting like good man Anna Hazare for our future, as our men steal every morsel from our homes.

Gandhi fasted for independence, its a shame that 60+ years hence, a man has to fast merely to get a bill noticed in parliament. Elle Woods would be charmed. Tsunamis may be hitting the Pacific, but it is the wasteland of Indian inaction that requires attention.

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With sexting and instant messaging, relationships have become just that – instant and ephemeral. Books and films have emulated these real-life changes with often not-so-interesting results. Has the romance in art – and relationships – died?

What defines society today is words and connections. What separates this generation from the ones before is the power of the spoken word. We think that technology is what has changed us, made us the people that move faster, think faster and behave fast. While that may be true in some part, what has empowered technology has been content – online jargon for words. Thoughts, bubbles, discussions, emoticons, replies, retorts, criticism, feedback, conversations, investigations, observations, retweets, status updates…the list goes on.  This generation has increased communication by communicating less and with fewer words. It faces the task of dealing with information overload while constantly putting out more information. The oxymorons define the mindset of today – a generation that wants everything, wants everything super quick and instantly accessible, and doesn’t really have the time or the patience to sift, read, ponder. That is where texts, BlackBerry messages, tweets and status updates are the de facto means of communication. It is rare for anyone to pick up the phone and have a good old-fashioned chat, in the generation that prefers to stick to a far more impersonal, but rapid form of communication. It has it’s own personal vocabulary: insistent abbreviations – often indecipherable to the uninitiated – and instant communication. You find people with heads bent, eyes darting and fingers moving rapidly in practiced synchronisation: rarely able to maintain eye-contact for more than a couple of minutes, rarely can a conversation run it’s natural old-fashioned course without interruption, as we move into an era of distracted and continuous communication and therefore, erratic and easily dismissed short-lived relationships.

Popular culture represents the dialogue and relationships of today: faster, more impatient and often meaningless. Younger film-makers have updated their scripts to emulate real life. While underworld films picked up the nuances of the underbelly through actions and dialogue, romance in the arts has been for the longest time linked to a larger-than-life drama. Case in point: the cinema of Karan Johar or Sooraj Barjaytya. Where they update the clothes and the music, the dialogue often remains over-dramatised and pedantic. While some may argue that romance needs the dramatisation, a striking example to contest the argument is that of Saathiya – where the dialogue is rapid, off-the-street and yet, is a powerful story. There is a strong resonation with the viewer, an easy relatibility, which carries the film from run-of-the-mill to sensitive and meaningful. Farhan Akhtar’s Dil Chahta Hai made the trend a popular one, taken up by film-makers like Kunal Kohli (Hum Tum) and Imtiaz Ali (Jab We Met and Love Aaj Kal).

It is the language of frankspeak  or straightspeak. Where once “You complete me” was the sigh-generating dictum, now, “I need a break” is easily said, without much angst, furor or thought. Quick answers, rapid and sometimes thoughtless decisions and a sense of bubbling impatience mark the dialogues that often don’t lead anywhere special. This is the nature of relationships of today and the conversations emulate them. Easily said, easy to bed and quick to leave – all takes place faster than a thought, and what is left are non-events. How does this make and fill the artistic and aesthetic space of a film? While Kohli-directed Hum Tum talks about a meandering relationship, When-Harry-Met-Sally-style, he pumps the story with events – which hold the weight of the relationship between the protagonists that appears to be going nowhere. In an attempt to emulate real life and their easy-come-easy-go relationships, Kohli’s recent production Break Ke Baad, directed by Danish Aslam, is a slick film that lacks a meaty story, full of 'non-happenings'. Conversations, while witty and fresh, would make a better radio play than a long commercial movie. While this may be a comment on relationships today, the art demands a certain balance between real life and cinematic license – it demands that elements, moments and events become at the very least marginally larger than life, to create entertainment, to be watchable. Ali’s Love Aaj Kal nearly crossed the line to become over-ripe with conversations, in the same quest to describe modern-day relationships. Where LAK teetered dangerously, Jab We Met remained fresh in it’s cinematic experience, particularly through the crispness of dialogue and emotion.

Deepika Padukone’s character, Aaliya, in Break Ke Baad is not lovable in the traditional sense – much like Sonam Kapoor’s Aisha, she is unintentionally selfish and possibly doesn’t deserve the good guy. The industry buzz has it that Zoya Akhtar’s debut film Luck By Chance missed it’s calling because the protagonist, Vikram, was not a nice guy. We don’t feel empathy for the characters and don’t wish them to reach a happy ending. And that is dangerous ground for a film to enter in the romance genre. And it is also rather disturbing seeing that these characters have been picked from real life. Is it true, then, that we prefer the traditional romantic notion of characters that may be slightly misguided, but are nice? Even if that is not real life? So as dialogues get updated, people shouldn’t?

Two recent books speak a local language, but in entirely different ways. Anuja Chauhan’s Battle For Bittora speaks real politik – the language of local and honest-to-good (sense the irony) politics, seen through the eyes of a girl of this generation. There is amusement, cynicism and wonder. While the romance remains honest to chick lit, and the dialogues are basic, matter-of-fact and emulating real life, it is the clever writing and story that lifts this novel from being mundane to a page-turner. Where Chauhan’s effortless writing excites, first-time writer, Rhea Saran’s Girl Plus One is trying too hard, as are her heroines, to become a desi Sex and the City. Saran is not wrong in suggesting, rather obviously, the fact that Indian girls today are openly emulating Manhattan’s popular TV series; however, Saran misses Candace Bushnell’s witticisms that make all the difference between real life and drama. Would a real-life Carrie really talk in continuous innuendoes? No. She simply finds a corelation between her column and her life.

However art is updated to make it believable and real, it is obvious that the artistic license must be used to lift the dullness of real life to a heightened sense of real-life drama. In creating a believable sense of inclusion in a person’s daily, often mundane life, while bringing art into our homes, drawing rooms and bedrooms, we need to maintain a certain distance that allows us to appreciate the nuances of every character, story and relationship. These elements need to interesting and memorable, and often, real life is not. That doesn’t mean we need to regress and run around trees dancing amid roses, but it does mean that we need to assess the dramatic intent of the medium: does the film justify being larger-than-life? Does the book deserve to be printed and propped up on the ‘New Arrivals’ bookshelf rather than be a basic online blog? All in all, while pointing out the casual and matter-of-fact manner of everyday relationships, are we missing the romance in the written word and the spoken dialogue? And are we losing the romance in relationships?

And that leads me to question - do we want the old-fashioned nature of romance, or does that not matter to us anymore? Does a quick sext or a couriered designer bag charm us more than an old-fashioned hand-written note with a love song? Are we so accustomed to sentimentalising love and romance that we are unable to accept it in it's matter-of-fact form anymore? If the written word stands for the way we think, then are we changing so dramatically that we question and often thwart sentimentality in its old-fashioned sense? Do we love, or do we 'like'? Or are we confused because it is 'too complicated'?

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Published: Verve Magazine, Cover Story, March 2011
Photographs by Mike Ruiz

Aishwarya Rai Bachchan’s natural precociousness springs up at every twist in the traveller’s tale. Sitanshi Talati-Parikh watches the ex-Miss World-turned-moviestar-and-homemaker switch from child to Inca queen, Bollywood dramatist to casual honeymooner, lost tourist to Disneyworld explorer, through loud giggles, flashing smiles, dramatic enunciations and passionate inflections, exploring a few of her many memorable journeys

A little girl sets sail for the world in an “enormous ship”. The romantic notion of travel becomes a kaleidoscopic reality, possibly even a way of life, with her “shippie” dad and family. It is the mid ’80s when Japan is “very disciplined” and China is yet to come into its own. Around a decade later, winning the Miss World pageant makes her “a cultural ambassador of India” in places unpronounceable. And through it all, Aishwarya Rai Bachchan has felt the power of being Indian, of coming from “a world within the world”.

Since then, there have been movie shoots in exotic locales: from a desert full of water bodies in Latin America to remote towns in India, brand endorsements in cobble-stoned Europe, and the world becoming a stage, literally, with performances like the Unforgettable World Tour. “I will go out and experience a place, I won’t live in an ivory tower, while gauging it and being responsible. Ever since Miss World, people have given me a lot of love – whether you call it recognition or adulation, they have always been expressive in their connectivity with me. When they saw me on the streets, it wasn’t like ‘Ay, Aishwarya!’ – women would come forward blessing and embracing me.”

Always politically correct, her carefully polished voice modulating with occasional bursts of enthusiasm, the intrepid traveller sits easy, knowing that the subject of the day is one she can be naturally passionate about. She points out that while the world advanced technologically, becoming a “smaller place”, her life mirrored the advancement: “Everything became from a 14-hour or 18-hour flight to ‘just an overnighter’, because you started doing it so often. Abhishek (Bachchan) and I love flights – we’re psychotic that way.” And, as she inevitably spends an exorbitant amount of time in transit, the covert people watcher admits “feeling a lot for elderly Indian passengers who walk around staring at monitors. Airports can be overwhelming – with the distances, pace, people and security checks; and while they have become second nature to me, I can still relate to how the experience can be for the uninitiated.”

South Africa: “I had a funny feeling inside me – looking outside the airplane window – a sense of going away.”
There are three times that Aishwarya Rai Bachchan recalls feeling this way, with a distinct sense of poignancy. It began with the flight to South Africa as she left to compete for, and win, the Miss World pageant title in 1994. “I suddenly felt that I would be away from everyone and alone for a month. And the thought of being with a whole lot of people foreign to you; but when you get there, you just fit in. I don’t know if it was a premonition or not, but I sensed that life was changing.”

London: “When you land there in winter, you barely wake up from the jetlag and feel that it is dark, like night again.”
In London, where she was to spend a year as the reigning Miss World, she had the option to have her own apartment or to live with a family in their house. “And I, being the responsible one, chose to stay in a house with a very sweet elderly couple rather than alone in an apartment, knowing my family would feel more secure. It’s a very Indian thing.” It was the first time she was living on her own: “For further studies I never went outside of Mumbai, because my father was a marine engineer, and it was just my brother, mum and I living together; I would feel for my mother and didn’t want to leave her and go away.”

Shanghai: “Suddenly Shanghai was an absolutely different city, and the world was beginning to talk about the change in China.”
It was a very different China during her repeat journey in 1994, when she went as a model with Hemant Trevedi. “Shanghai was a symbol of that change – the modernisation and globalisation, like the US on this side of the world. This was a new culture, very much in keeping with the times or ahead of the time. Very interested in India and Indian fashion and it was almost a privilege to be there with our fashion and our designers.”

China: “This time I was shooting a song on the Great Wall doing a little jig!”
In 1994, she had walked up to the fifth gate of the Great Wall, with a “more grown-up taking away, recognising the passion of generations working on building this incredible wonder that we live with on our planet”. She was back on the Great Wall as an actor, shooting the song Poovukkul, which showcased the Seven Wonders of the World, for Shankar’s Jeans. “You never know when you are going to revisit a certain part of the world. As a kid, when I was there in the ’80s, they took us to a uniquely Chinese opera, and sang some of our Hindi songs, with all the Chinese in the audience looking at us because we were the one Indian family sitting there. You’ve heard of people in China and Russia listening to our music, our film songs, and then to think, on my third visit there, I was shooting a song, with a live audience of people fascinated by our cinema and the song culture of our movies.”

Times Square and historic sites: “I am an actor – it means you have to do everything!”
Dancing atop the Great Wall – did it feel ridiculous at all? “Interestingly enough, never,” Aishwarya answers decisively. “From the beginning, I never felt odd. When shooting for Aur Pyar Ho Gaya, I remember Bobby (Deol), even though he belongs to an actor-family, feeling a bit odd when we had to do ridiculous things in public arenas, like jump on a car, or run on the street with a toothbrush in our hand and toothpaste on our face.” Or the time when she was in New York City shooting for Aa Ab Laut Chalein in Times Square wearing a fuschia pink gown with a bow, big earrings and a flower in her hair. “I had no inhibitions. You’ve grown up watching it, song and dance is so much a part of our cinema that you don’t feel silly doing it.”

Disneyland: “We both were like excited kids – free, happy and wonderfully reliving our childhood.”
A youthful exuberance springs up as she recalls memories of the past. “That family trip (’80s) that started with Japan ended with Disneyland, and Abhishek and I ended our honeymoon – after Bora Bora’s ‘drop in the ocean’ experience – in Disneyland. It wasn’t planned, but worked out beautifully into a great circle.”

Tunisia: “In my interviews, when I say ‘Every day I feel like a newcomer, or every day is like the first time’ there are those special moments when I actually feel that, very, very strongly.”
The third time she felt “the pit of the stomach feeling” was when she took off to shoot for “one of the best film experiences”, The Last Legion in Tunisia and Slovakia. “Not only did I have no one from my nationality on the crew, it was a guy flick – everybody was a dude! I was going to be a warrior, this action character. I was feeling it again: going away for a very long period, and I had to step away from very interesting work that was happening here. I had gone through that predicament too many times in my life and career: ‘Heck, all good things happening, do I have to choose?’” Without any idea of the geography of Tunisia, she was bowled over by the spectacular beauty of the country. She arrived three days before the shoot, without rehearsal. “Everyone was in panic mode, but my dancing helped me, I embraced action instantly. Beautiful Mediterranean water, very hot and warm…a bit much in the costumes, with all that armour! The places were so quaint and simple that we all became that much closer as a group.”

Slovakia: “These guys are HUGE. When you sit on these buggers, you don’t walk straight for two days after.”
Slovakia was familiar because she had been to Prague. She found the “cold (weather) and green” country replete with beautiful castles. “We were all like kids. We had so much fun working together, and such incredible discipline – whether it was Colin (Firth) or Sir Ben (Kingsley) – we were like children in a giant videogame.” And the most remarkable experience was spending time on horseback. She emits a loud, expressive laugh: “The horses in Tunisia are one size and then you get to Slovakia and you realise that the horses there are different. These guys are HUGE. When you sit on these buggers, you don’t walk straight for two days after!”

Budapest: “Ajay kept telling Sanjay (Leela Bhansali) that the two things he dreaded the most, dancing and singing, were what Sanjay made him do in the film.”
Budapest was special because Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam was shot there, for which she got her first Best Actress award. She recalls with a smile, the dance sequence with a rather nervous Ajay Devgn. “It was exceptional because it was an insight into their culture – the music and dance sequence was local to the place. So you actually experienced something unique, apart from the magnificence of being by the river and bridge. Also, we saw very few children in the country, and then we realised that they were encouraging people to have more children because of the mortality rate. Apart from the cuisines, it is always interesting to come away with an insight into the place. For me, it is not about hitting the shops; it is about getting to know a place.”

Brazil: “I was reliving my college days, being vicariously part of a gang of childhood friends.”
After Columbia during her Miss World reign, she was back in South America much later, when shooting for Dhoom 2. “The genre of the film we were working on made us relive our college days. I was privy to a close unit of kids (Abhishek, ‘Duggu’ Hrithik Roshan and Uday Chopra) who are childhood friends, and felt that I was vicariously part of the gang. Brazil offers that kind of spirit, the film gave that kind of energy.” Her eyes take on a faraway look as she recalls a surreal moment towards the end of the Dhoom 2 shooting schedule. They lay sprawled below the “magnificent” Christo, in the wee hours of the morning, before Hrithik Roshan was returning to his son being born. “We were in that woozy state of mind, because we had stayed awake the previous day and night and were watching the sun rise. It was a very quiet time, the early morning hour before the tourists arrived. We had had such a noisy schedule, all of us buzzing throughout, that it was the best silence we all shared. As we lay on the ground, we felt that Christ was looking at us from the skies. You hear terms like, ‘listening to the sound of silence’, but we experienced it then.”

Machu Picchu: “In my little bling feathered costume, I looked like one of the Inca queens.”
Shankar’s Robot took her once again to “the other side of the world”. She had taken a break from her career for the first time in her life. “I was facing the camera after an unexpected eight months all the way in Machu Picchu (Peru).” It was the longest journey they had made – counting the kind of flights, number of flights and locations. Upon reaching the place, a tiny township, after a train journey, they all walked from the railway station dragging their bags on the road. “As we trekked along, we suddenly passed a marketplace. My staff was exhausted, but I was thinking, ‘What an adventure!’ I love walking, because we don’t do that enough, and you actually get to feel the pulse of the place, get in contact with the people and culture, otherwise it could well be structure to car, car to airport, airport to plane, plane to car, car to hotel.”

Mexico City airport: “I was the pride of India and all that – and I didn’t have my passport. This was the worst moment for me.”
With her valet in tow, and running a fever, Aishwarya was connecting via Mexico City en route to Melbourne, Australia, representing India in a performance at the Commonwealth Games. Special Services, who had come to help them with the language barrier, disappeared with their passports. “It was bizarre. People there would smile a lot and look blank, because they didn’t speak the language.” She was taken to a private room that was empty save for two people who could be guards eating a home-cooked meal. “It was like the movies – being in a prison cell and these guys going at their meat sauce and bread. They would say something to each other and keep smiling at me. My valet has piercing eyes, so I would keep telling him to smile and keep his face easy. I suddenly felt I had to be protective and get us out of here. I had never felt that before. I wasn’t getting through on the phone to anyone and at one point I felt myself go a bit cold. I had wanted to visit Mexico, but this was not the adventure I was looking for!” After an encounter with a man who spoke perfectly-accented English and suddenly refused to speak any, to a bunch of “strong-looking women” who used the word “off-loaded”, Aishwarya nearly gave up. And then suddenly, in the crowd she spied the person who had disappeared with their passports and chased him down. “He was carrying our passports in his hand, and till date I have no idea why.”

Los Angeles: “With time, travel, age and experiences, you begin to like the easier, more social pace of LA.”
After boarding the flight from an eventful Mexico City, she was transiting through LA to catch her Melbourne connection, hoping to make it in time to perform. “I reached LA and suddenly life was beyond fabulous. It was the one time I cherished being who I am, in terms of the celebrity life. Suddenly, it was beyond comfort, think all superlatives. I always say that once in a while, if it gets too comfortable, God just does a little schickt (demonstrates a click with her fingers like playing carom). He’s watching his own little rom-com, thinking, ‘I want to have fun with you’. So I think, ‘Enjoy it, and turn it when you want to.’”

New Zealand: “The life that we lead, we are like gypsies, nomads, and I’m very quick to feel at home in any place in the world.”
She’s spoken a marathon, and yet looks like she can go on. I’m right; this would make a coffee-table book. “We don’t realise how quickly time flies and because a part of our life gets captured on celluloid forever, I feel as actors we live lifetimes within our lifetime.” She is off to join Abhishek in time for his birthday, in New Zealand where he is shooting, in a place she has never been before. Some people are meant to be children of the world, explorers in their own right. “And yet, when one travels so much, there will always be something unique to being home. It is your family that makes home what it is – it’s not the physical structure even if you say bed and all of that. I live a very homely life in the places that I go to. Besides, as Abhishek rightly puts it, one in six is an Indian: you can go to the farthest of places and we (Indians) will be there, saying, ‘Hello, you want home-cooked food?’ That’s the best part about Indians – they are there to feed you. You are at home anywhere in the world.”

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