Dhoom.

If anyone actually reads this blog, you'll know that I love Hollywood. Although I gave up on movies in my native language about a decade ago, I would still watch the occasional Hindi flick. It had been awhile though, so I decided to stop being a snob and go and get some bearable entertainment last night, in the form of Dhoom 3. I'm so glad I did, or I would have missed out on the following aspects of cinema that I was so blissfully ignorant about. Brace yourself.

1. Abhishek Bachchan can fly.

2. Autorickshaws in India are manufactured by Hummer. Or quite possibly, CAT Machineries.

3. There is not a single Hindi literate person in the city of Chicago.

4. When the Chicago police force therefore requires Hindi literate cops to be flown in, India will send its most lecherous, irritating, moronic and non English speaking cop.

5. The scriptwriter of Dhoom 3 is a big fan of the movie 'The Prestige.'

6. Abhishek Bachchan is the only cop in the world capable of shooting a moving target.

7. BMW is terrifying. They manufacture motorbikes which turn into submergence capable motorboats which can shoot out of the water with the velocity of a rocket while morphing back into a motorbike.

8. You may have missed the most gripping dialogue of the year, so here it is for you :
     
     Bank Owner/Bad Guy : "What do you know about this guy who's robbing me?"

     Police Chief : "Sir, all we know is that he's a thief."

9. If you see an advertisement holding auditions for "an Indian goddess who sings and dances like liquid       electricity," it just means "striptease."

10. Abhishek Bachchan is fireproof.

11. A visibly autistic person who lacks the motor coordination necessary to tie his own shoelaces will be able to ride a bike with skill that would put Evel Knievel to shame.   

12. When a perfect stranger approaches you,an experienced and distinguished cop, with "information" about a possible suspect, you immediately give him instant access to all available blueprints, vaults, security systems, and even, the security codes of the bank that is supposed to be the thief's next target. Without so much as a background check.

13. You never see an actual heist. You just see the robber running out of the bank with bank notes falling like rain around him. Because I'm pretty sure the scriptwriter himself has no idea how the actual robberies take place.

14. Even if you have a gun, you must tie your cop-enemy to the tracks of a roller coaster, (how? Don't you have to put down the gun to do it?), then activate the roller coaster by remote control (how?! There is no universal roller coaster starting remote control), then walk away in the upbeat optimism that he will definitely die.

15. And finally, you only ever surround criminals in places where they have convenient suicide options. Seriously, Mr. Jai Dixit, have you ever actually caught anyone?

Dhoom, ladies and gentlemen.

Tiny Tale

Attempt No.3

A boy with a bloody, broken nose. Jeers from the 6 foot pace bowler. Then, a squeaky voice “Mein Khelega (I will play). A legend is born.

Why Sachin Tendulkar is no god.

Dear Sachin

You are not god. Not even close.

At 16 years old, you were a precious little curly haired boy who needed his daddy's signature on a permission slip, so that he could go out and carry a nation's hopes on his shoulders for 24 years. No god needs that.

At 16 years old, Waqar Younis broke your nose with a fast ball. He made you bleed. What god bleeds? Never mind that you refused to leave the pitch and hit him for a four on the very next ball.

                                                      

At every loss, you apologized. You said you were responsible. You carried the weight of every loss for a full 24 years. Which god feels the need to apologize? 

At 25 you wept at your father's death. What god weeps? Never mind indeed that you then got on a trans continental plane, and scored 140. One day after you'd lit your father's pyre.

At every practice session, you were on field first and and you were the last one to leave. What kind of god feels the need to practise after a 100 international centuries?

We've seen you in pain. Rarely have you walked out onto the pitch without a bandage on. Which god feels pain?

We have never heard you praise yourself. Never. We've never heard you revel in glory. What god is humble?

Mr. Tendulkar...hah, there's a joke. You were never Mr. Tendulkar. You were sachin. In fact, you were sachin!sachin!, for over 2 decades. What god goes by his first name?

You are not god. We have seen you sweat, weep and bleed for India. We have seen you feel pain. We have seen you lose. We have seen you hold your head low in sorrow. Because you are mortal. A mere man. And you know what?

We loved you. In ways that we have never loved a god or a man before, or ever will. Thank you, for a lifetime of memories.

Musing

I may not have loved often.
But I have loved enough.

Tiny Tale Attempt

I recently came across something called Terribly Tiny Tales, on Facebook. Attempts at writing entire stories in 140 characters, spaces and punctuation included. The idea intrigued me.

Attempt No. 1



"Princess," he smirks. "Gets everything you want." Slams door. She cringes. Years later, a note scrawled on the wall with a fingertip, in blood - "I didn't get YOU."

Attempt No. 2

"So much freedom!" jealous friends sigh. "No curfew, no calls!," they mouth, while concerned parents on the other end of the phone line ask where, when and with whom questions. She smiles, swigs beer. And wishes, at least that night, just once, her phone would flash the words, "Home Calling."

My wings.
Bloody.
As things ripped apart always are.
Jagged edges.
From a serrated knife.
Where my dreams may fall and shatter.
From today
I too shall tread the earth.
Mortal. Ordinary.

Moonlit dreams and first views of sunrise
You were wise, Oscar
Wise, to know that dreamers
who dream by moonlight
are forever punished
by being the first to view glaring sunlight.

My wings
Yours
Take them
Burn them
Smear yourself in the victory ash
But know this
I dream with my soul
I dream with my heart
And that
No knife can touch.
Not even yours.
My soul soars forever more
Perfect
Untouchable

My only consolation
The knife that ripped was mine
I ripped the wings from my heart
Bloodied bruised and broken
Not you.
For I know
Broken wings heal
And even angels fall

Musing

I may not need your approval.
But I do not deserve your hatred...

Lies

Pretend all you want
so you can sleep at night
until the dream implodes
in the harsh light of day

Pretend all you want
that the horizon is endless
swim in circles
and say the world is round

Pretend all you want
that freedom exists
that choice is a fact
that life isn't bound

Pretend all you want 
until you smack and bleed
against the glass sides
of your goldfish bowl

Silence.
Deafening.
Suffocating.
Silence is the beginning
of the end
of laughter
of secrets

Polite nods
a smile
stares
whys...
And a desperate wish for the past

Forced laughter
Jarring. Fake
It's true.
As is this,
That we are strangers
Trapped by blood.

Enigma

I long to hear the answers
To questions I am afraid to ask
I long to know what expression plays
Behind that carefully painted mask

I long to hear an actual lie
Just to prove me right
I long to know just who you are
Under the darkness of night

I long to see that smile slip, just once
For a single second's truth
I long to know the shattered old soul
That weeps behind your youth

I long to watch you twitch and stammer
Rather than look me in the eye, straight
I long for that polished demeanour to slip
And to know, for once, that you took the bait

I long for you to show me the cracks
Beneath the glazed perfection
I long to know that I got to you too
That you were not my exception

I long to know what time will reveal
Was it set up to fall?
I long to know the answer at last
Was it real, at all?

What Time Teaches You

That regret burns, much more than guilt ever could.

That feeling worthwhile is difficult and fleeting.

 That "should haves" will keep you awake at night.

That love has no reason, but hate always does.

That loneliness shatters.

That time heals, but scars are often permanent.

That hope and expectation are very different things.

That we were built for infinite emotion.

That we often forgive to avoid forgetting.

That mirrors never lie.

That life is indeed, unfair.

That there are times when logic fails

That we don't always love those who love us.

That choices have consequences. Which will find their way to you. 

That fears will be faced. 

That we are often mistaken about who we really are.

That faith must be blind.

That people change.