Of cute singing kids, lightening bolts and crying men....

So, the 2008 Olympics are over, after all too brief 17 days of non-stop action and (perfectly coordinated and choreographed) public interest. Right from the stunningly extravagant opening ceremony (some of it -- fireworks and like -- meant only for the TV audiences worldwide) to an equally impressive closing ceremony, China succeeded in showcasing what it sought to portray itself as -- a confident, aggressive nation on the move, prepared to deal with rest of the world on an equal footing, no more the reclusive middle kingdom of the past.

So, while pre-game concerns about Chinese abuses in Tibet and elsewhere were conveniently shoved under the carpet, the Chinese, to their credit, made sure that the world sees only what they wanted the world to see, going to extreme lengths to remove everything ugly from the public eye. And, in their fanatic quest for finishing at the top of the list in the medals tally, the games got mired in one refereeing/forged paperwork controversy after another, prompting one Swedish wrestler to even throw away his medal in disgust and another Cuban athlete to kick the referee, prompting comparisons with another 'coming out of wilderness' Olympics in another emerging nation 20 years ago -- Seoul 1988, where such blatant rigging cases as this were commonplace.

The 'beautiful' voice and the 'ugly' face: Lin Miaoke was used to lip-sync 'ugly kid' Yang Peiyi's voice

From an Indian point of view, the games were the most successful in our history, we finished with 3 medals, no less -- the previous best had been a healthy 2 medals in 1952 Helsinki Games (and of course, in Paris 1900, if one includes Norman Pritchard's feats). Being a strong advocate of good things in life come in small packages theory, I must admit 3 was a big surprise to me (as it surely must have been to Mr. Kalmadi and co.). But then, I'm nowhere close to as smart as these learned consultants/analysts from PwC (predicting no less than six medals for India here and here), who after missing almost all their predictions, undoubtedly, are already busy building models to predict medals in 2012 London Games.

A rare event in Indian sport history, an individual gold

But, all credit to Abhinav Bindra and the 2 chaudhries from Haryana, Vijender (who, apparently, got distracted by this and missed out on a gold) and Sushil (who bears an uncanny resemblance to Pappu Yadav, here). With a little more Govt. support (too much to expect, I guess) and better training facilities, there's no reason why these boxers/wrestlers can't do even better in 4 years time.

Sushil and Vijender, battled against odds to win medals

Elsewhere, records were being broken in these games almost everyday, especially in swimming, where, all of a sudden, swimmers seemed much better, much faster, much stronger than swimmers had ever been. All eyes were obviously focused on Micheal Phelps, who was looking to take an unprecedented eight golds, thus shattering the old standing record of most medals in a game (seven, Mark Spitz in 1972 Munich). And he didn't disappoint, as he took his first six golds by sinking six world records, seemingly at will. Amidst controversy in 100m butterfly, his 7th event (and one he doesn't relish), he was seemingly on course to finish second for once (to the Serb, Milorad Cavic), when he lunged forward and managed to win yet another gold, by the smallest of margins.

A very common scene at the Games, Phelps with his 7th gold, the Serbian on his right almost denied him this

After that dramatic finish, the 8th gold was merely a formality as Phelps swam his way into the record books.

8 events, 8 golds, 7 world records, not bad for 10 days, is it? Phelps with his 8th gold

Another one goes down, Phelps celebrates yet another record

However, just as comparisons were being made between Phelps and other greats and he was being celebrated as the best Olympian of all time, in the same league as Jesse Owens, Carl Lewis and Paavo Nurmi, and probably greater, the athletics events started. And, in keeping with the vagaries of modern sport, public attention immediately shifted to focus on a certain Usain Bolt.

This man, sure knows how to put on a show, Usain Bolt 'shooting' arrows, just before 200m finals

First there were the 100m heats; Usain Bolt, inspite of jogging through his heats, finished comfortably at top. And then, in finals, all hell broke loose. In what must be the most one-sided races of all time, Usain started celebrating at least fifteen meters behind the finishing line and still managed to set a new world record. (Unfortunately, due to copyright issues, the video of the race is not availbale online).

Probably the most iconic of images from the Games, Bolt demolishing the 100m field

Another view, he's not even running full steam

And that was it. One race was enough to push someone like Phelps to the center pages of the newspapers, let alone the lesser athletes. All time greats like Michael Johnson jumped like children when watching the race. Suddenly, the sprints were back in fashion, and all eyes were fixed on the next event -- 200m. And this time, he ran, rather than jogging along. Michael Johnson's record, set in Atalanta in 1996 was a tough one to break and he knew it. I remember seeing Johnson, with his golden boots, running two unbelievable races all those years ago, but they paled in comparison to these.

Usain Bolt shattering the 200m record, the others are not even close

But if there were any doubts before the race, after the race, there were none. For the first time since Carl Lewis did the famous 100m-200m double in 1984 Los Angeles, was the feat repeated. Bolt was in the elite company of athletes like Jesse Owens and Don Quarrie, he held the world records for both 100m and 200m sprints and all of this at the age of 22. And so one sided were the races that someone remarked later, "it's not eight guys competing for 3 medals, it's seven competing for 2".

Bolt running basically against himself and the records

Well, Olympics is not all about individual human excellence (though that's what it seeks to celebrate), it's also about the Olympic spirit. Heart warming stories of passion, courage to fail and then get up and strive for success again, raw grit and determination are some of the other traits that make up the charm. These involve athletes who will never win eight golds as Phelps did, nor will they ever rewrite the history books as Bolt did, but by their sheer tenacity and will-power to overcome any odds, they become legends on their own. And, these games had their share of such stories. For reasons best known to media, such stories don't seem to get as much coverage as they ought to. After all, these tales are what symbolise the games more than anything else.

Probably, the most touching and inspiring of it all was the story of south African swimmer Natalie du Toit, who lost her left leg in an accident in 2001 and is a multiple medal winner in Paralympic Games. This time round, she wanted to qualify with the able-bodied swimmers, and managed to qualify for the Olympics (first disabled athlete ever to do that). She participated in the marathon of swimming, 10,000 m race, with half the power her competitors had and still finished a credible 16th out of 24 participants.

Natalie du Toit relaxes after the 10 km marathon swim event

Then, there was the German weightlifter Matthias Steiner, who lost his wife, Susann in an accident last year. The Austrian born athlete refused to give up, took German citizenship, just to participate in the games and then, when all looked lost (his first two attempts being fails), with a almost superhuman effort, he lifted 258 kg and won the gold, thus fulfilling the promise he made to his dying wife. And, as he stood on the podium, just crowned the world's strongest man and still crying, with tears rolling down his cheeks, with the photograph of his wife in his hands; I am not ashamed to admit that even I (normally, not the most emotional of people) had a lump in my throat.

Gold medal in one hand, wife's photograph in the other, eyes full of tears: World's strongest man

But not all stories are about success. There is also the US shooter Matt Emmons who threw away an assured gold in Athens 2004, when he inexplicably, fired at the wrong target. It wasn't, however, a total loss for him as he met his wife Katerina (a Czech shooter and bronze medalist herself at Athens) after the event. She actually won the opening gold medal in these games. This time round, he looked like he'll make amends for the past mistakes when he shot his way into a healthy lead and needed only a score of 7 in his last shot to assure gold. In shooting, scores of even 8 are considered below par and so everyone assumed that gold was his. But, again, in a panic attack, he ended up shooting only 4.4. He had blown it yet again. But, the impressive thing about this whole story is the attitude of the man -- he reportedly said after the event that he's gutted, he takes responsibility but he'll come back again.

Then, there are the always unheralded athletes, absolute champions in their sports but never getting a lot of publicity/media space as they can never win more than a gold medal every four years (as that's what the sport allows them). The queen of pole vault, the czarina, Yelena Isinbayeva being the prime example. She has broken the world record a record 24 times and has ruled the sport for the better part of a decade. Unlike her male counterpart Sergei Bubka though, she has managed to reign supreme in Olympics as well. And, of course, there is the great Kenenisa Bekele, the long distance king, always winning his events in a quiet, unassuming way, no recognition asked for and sadly not too much given. His Ethiopian female counterpart Tirunesh Dibaba too won the golden double of 5,000 m and 10,000 m.

Another day in office, another world record for the 'czarina': she won the gold after just 2 jumps and then proceeded to compete just against herself for the next 30 minutes or so

Anyways, the torch will reignite in four years time in Lodnon. Already there are concerns that a weakening UK econony can't match the glamour and picture postcard perfection of the Chinese games. Also, it'll be really interesting to see if the Chinese can match their performace or even improve that. Whatever happens, one thing's for sure -- Boris Johnson and his team are going to have a tough time coming anywhere close to the organizers of these games.

Will London be able to put on as big a spectacle?

A year gone by....

Work can never be enjoyable; if it was, there would be no need to compensate you for it.

~Scott Adams

It's exactly been a year a year (at least it was when I started writing it, me having wasted a month already in getting round to write it) since I landed here, for my first job. And, it's been a busy year, just whooshing past, much faster than a year used to take not too far back.

Like all years, I have learnt a few things, unlearnt a lot more; met a few people I liked, met a lot more I disliked (and, who in all probability, returned the favor). Anyways, more on this later.

I have learnt to take all hype with a more than a healthy dose of cynicism (yes, I breezed through IIM after being prepared to meet the smartest, most innovative people around) and so honestly, I had no qualms/illusions about the highly intellectually challenging nature of work and the opportunity of rubbing shoulders with the brightest in the business, the creme de la creme, as they say (that's how the financial/consulting jobs are sold back in the campus).

I was always sure about student life being much better than anything that work can offer (except, of course, for the compensation), but even the cynical me underestimated the extent.

Not a long post this time, for a change (am not in a verbose mood). Just a few relevant strips of my favorite comic characters should suffice.

Yes, work hours are long, most of it devoted to stupid, mindless, and completely unnecessary things

Yes, I was in office on 24th December and 31st December, being the junior-most guy around has its perks.

A look at the sophistication and the extensive logical analysis involved in the business.

Yes, believe it or not, bank stocks actually rallied each time they announced layoffs or more writedowns

But then, ultimately, the joke's on clients.

So much for the long-term, 'strategic' (and what not) views

and

Being 'client-focussed' actually means the entire focus being on separating the clients from their cash

As for being meritocracy being the sole criterion, here goes:

The dreaded P45 form - find a new job, mate

The banks, after writing down massive amounts every quarter, keep claiming that the books are conservatively marked. The truth is a little more sombre because no one has any clue where they should be marked.

Sometimes, having a Nick Leeson or Jerome Kerviel type traders is actually desirable

Still, inspite of the self-righteousness of the industry, I don't hate my job (yet), not as much as Dilbert below seems to do, at any rate (primarily, because of the compensation involved).

Scott Adams is not very subtle sometimes.

More on the subtleties and intricacies of financial markets later. As a parting (no pun intended) shot.

This is what 'managing' is all about.

एक सोच....

मैं ये सोच कर उस के दर से उठा था,
कि वो रोक लेगी, मना लेगी मुझको;

हवाओं में लहराता आता था दामन,
कि दामन पकड़कर बिठा लेगी मुझको;

कदम ऐसे अंदाज़ से उठ रहे थे,
कि आवाज़ देकर बुला लेगी मुझको.......

मगर उसने रोका, ना उसने मनाया,
ना दामन ही पकड़ा, ना मुझको बिठाया,
ना आवाज़ ही दी, ना वापस बुलाया,
मैं आहिस्ता-आहिस्ता बढ़ता ही आया.....

यहाँ तक कि उस से जुदा हो गया मैं,
जुदा हो गया मैं, जुदा हो गया मैं..........

~ कैफी आज़मी

Khuda-e-Sukhan

Note: The true beauty of these majestic creations can be best enjoyed in the original language, Urdu. Hence, I've not translated much except for the more difficult words. Also, I have tried my best to be as simple as possible in my translations. Please let me know if Help is needed with any sher below.
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रेखते के एक तुम ही उस्ताद नही हो ग़ालिब ,
कहते हैं अगले ज़माने में कोई मीर भी था

[रेखते --> Hindi/Urdu, here speech, language]

So said, arguably the best Urdu shayar of all time -- Ghalib, about Mir, who, incidentally is also called Khuda-e-sukhan (Emperor of speech, a crude translation). Unerlining the brilliance of this sher is the fact that Ghalib means dominant/victorious in Urdu while Mir refers to a chief of a clan, the absolute boss, so to say.

Now, a little background to this post.

The other day, I was just listening to Ghalib's ghazals from the TV series Mirza Ghalib (as I often do after a long and tiring day at work -- trust me, nothing works better in these cases than the soothing voice of Jagjit Singh), when I decided to check if the TV series is actually available on the net. And voila, some kind soul actually has uploaded a part of series here.

While watching the episodes (I watched them in one go -- Gulzar can be a fabulous director too if he wants to), I came across the above mentioned sher. Now, honestly, I haven't read a lot of Mir's collections but I have read a fair few and here are a few of my favourites:

पत्ता पत्ता, बूटा बूटा, हाल हमारा जाने है
जाने न जाने, गुल ही न जाने, बाग़ तो सारा जाने है.

[बूटा --> Tree, branch; गुल --> flower]

आगे उस मुतकबर के हम खुदा-खुदा किया करते हैं ,

कब मौजूद खुदा को वो मगरूर खुदा-रा जाने है

[मुतकबर/मगरूर --> Arrogant/haughty (lover); मौजूद --> Existing
खुदा-रा --> One who thinks oneself as khuda (God) ]


चारागरी बीमार ये दिल की, रस्म-ऐ-शहर-ऐ-हुस्न नही,
वरना दिलबर-ऐ-नादान भी इस दर्द का चारा जाने है
[चारागरी/चारा --> Ilaaz, treatment; रस्म --> ritual;
रस्म-ऐ-शहर-ऐ-हुस्न --> Usual ways/rituals of city of husn (here, meaning beautiful ladies)
दिलबर-ऐ-नादान --> Ignorant/clueless (here, possibly, implying a feigned ignorance) lover]


मेहर-ओ-वफ़ा-ओ-लुत्फ़-ओ-इनायत, एक से वाकिफ इन में नही,
और तो सब कुछ, तंज़-ओ-कनाया, रम्ज़-ओ-इशारा जाने है
[मेहर-ओ-वफ़ा --> Mercy of loyalty (in love), here, small mercies like loyalty
लुत्फ़-ओ-इनायत --> Pleasure of favour/acceptance (again, in love)
वाकिफ --> Familiar; तंज़-ओ-कनाया --> Jest/ridicule of teasing/taunting (as a jilted lover, here)
रम्ज़-ओ-इशारा --> Ridicule of suggestion and hint (at a failed attempt, here)]


आशिक तो मुर्दा है हमेशा, जी उठा है देख उसे,
यार के आ जाने को यकायक उम्र दोबारा जाने है
[यकायक --> Suddenly]

For correct pronunciation of some of the words (and to listen to the some of the shers of the ghazhal above, see here).

And now, one of his more 'user-friendly' ghazhals:

फकीराना ये सदा कर चले,
मियां खुश रहो, हम दुआ कर चले

जो तुझ बिन न जीने को कहते थे हम,
सो, इस अहद को अब वफ़ा कर चले
[अहद --> Promise]

शिफा अपनी तकदीर ही में न थी,
के मकदूर तक तो दवा कर चले
[शिफा --> Ilaaz, Recovery, cure; मकदूर --> Afford]

वो क्या चीज़ है आह जिस के लिए,
हर एक चीज़ से दिल उठा कर चले

पड़े ऐसे असबाब पायां-ऐ-कार,
के नाचार यूँ जी जला कर चले
[असबाब --> Halaat, situation; पायां-ऐ-कार --> Not sure here, maybe legs bound by chains
नाचार --> Having no other solution]


कोई ना -उमीदाना करते निगाह,
सो, तुम हम से भी मुंह छिपा कर चले

बहुत आरजू थी गली की तेरी,
सो, यहाँ से लहू में नहा कर चले

दिखाई दिए यूँ की बेखुद किया
हमें आप से भी जुदा कर चले
[बेखुद --> Loss of self awareness; आप --> Self]

जबीं सजदा करते ही करते गई,
हक-ऐ-बंदगी हम अदा कर चले
[जबीं --> Forehead; हक-ऐ-बंदगी --> Right/duty of service/prayer]

परस्तिश यहाँ तक किए बुत तुझे
की नज़र में सभून के खुदा कर चले
[परस्तिश --> Worship; But --> Idol; सभून --> Everyone]

झडे जिस तरह फूल गुल्बन से यूँ,
चमन में जहाँ के हम आ कर चले

न देखा ग़म-ऐ-दोस्तान शुक्र है,
हम ही आग अपना दिखा कर चले

गई उम्र दर बंद-ऐ-फ़िक्र-ऐ-गजल,
सो, इस फेन को ऐसा बड़ा कर चले
[उम्र दर --> Whole life; बंद-ऐ-फ़िक्र-ऐ-गजल --> Bound by worry about ghazals
फेन --> Hunar, talent]

कहें क्या जो कोई पूछे हम से मीर,
जहाँ में तुम आए थे, क्या कर चले

Hindi movies have borrowed/copied liberally from Mir and quite a few of his ghazhals have been included as songs. A part of the above masterpiece has actually been sung by Lata mangeshkar in Bazaar (1982). Supriya Pathak looks so innocent and beautiful here.

Unfortunately, Mir is not as easily available as Ghalib is and consequently, most novices like me have not read a lot of him. Hopefully, I'll be able to get my hands on more of his creations soon. To conclude, 2 more shers:

यारों मुझे मुआफ करो, मैं नशे में हूँ,
अब दो तो जाम खाली ही दो, मैं नशे में हूँ.

या हाथों हाथ लो मुझे, जैसे की जाम-ऐ-मै,
या थोडी दूर साथ चलो, मैं नशे में हूँ.

An epic, a 'Magnus Opum' Revisited..

[Stautory Warning: Very long post, reading further can result in a severe case of mental dyslexia, resulting from a sudden and brutal reunderstanding of pre-conceived notions.]

I'm not ashamed to admit that I'm not a very big Bollywood fan, well, not if judged by your usual SRK-Karan Johar fare, neither of the Dhoom 2 type action/skin flicks, and I couldn't care less about Neil & Nikki kind of chick flicks. It's almost surreal the way the industry is dominated by the above 3 kinds of movies (and their myriad variations). No wonder, I have only seen around 5 Hindi movies in a hall in last 2 years. Well, if that's your definition of Hindi cinema, suit yourself.

But, I'm all for a true classic, a production which not only questions the set notions, but proceeds to quash them to a pulp, setting new, higher and loftier standards in the process. Sadly, perhaps, in a reflection of the morally decandent times we live in, they are not considered mainstream movies. Thus, I am used to my friends giving me ignorant, confused looks when I tried to introduce them to some real cinema, the Ramsay Brothers productions (here and here, amongst many others), for example, and dismiss such sheer ignorance with a shrug. I even kept quiet when seminal works of legends like K Raghavendra Rao (here, here and here), and more recently, TLV Prasad (hallowed be thy name) became objects of ridicule, with pea-brained chat show hosts who simply didn't have enough in them to understand these artistic expressions. (In fact, these two legends deserve a separate blog on them.)

However, even my tolerance limit was breached last week when some self-professed, Bollywood gurus confessed to not even hearing of a true masterpiece, a work so grand, so reflective of our times, a piece of art so relevant that even 50-100 years down the line, its viewers would marvel at the sheer genius that resulted in this. And that was when I decided to educate my fellow movie-goers (after rewatching it twice in the last 3 days, but then, every time i watch it, there are newer relevations, subtle touches that I had missed earlier) .

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There are only two kinds of people in this world. Those, who have seen Gunda, and those who shall. ~ Anonymous
Truer words have never been spoken. There are classics and then there are classics. But, to combine the essence of both schools of film-making is no mean task. Only a handful of movies have managed it thus far, the legend I'm going to discuss today, being one of them.

A movie, made in the late 1990s (a turbulent period in Indian history), took the entire country by storm, not suprisingly, 6 years after its initial release (even for a movie made with minimum fuss, Gunda was much much ahead of its time). Male hostels across the nation (mostly IITs and RECs), discovered this magnum opus and needless to say, became enthralled and erupted (no pun intended) in joy. Orkut communities were set up, blogs were written, and an entire generation warmed up to the idea of 'entertainment with a social message'. Lost works of the visionary director Kanti Shah -- works of art like Loha (an iconic scene from this masterpiece) -- overnight, became the most sought after names in CD-DVD shops/internet bit torrent downloads (depending on your views on piracy).

However, vested interests, sensed a very real danger that a cult phenomenon can pose to their authority -- after all, an entire generation of Karan Johar/Ekta Kapoor fed youngsters was finally waking up to real cinema. Efforts were made to subdue this work, it was banned (ostensibly, for being anti-feminist, as I show below, this charge is totally unfounded). Finally, they gave it a 'A' rating, no doubt, to prevent more youngsters from discovering what real cinema feels like.

Let's start with a quick refresher for those who have seen it (and to prepare those who haven't):

Mera naam hai bulla, rakhta hoon khulla.....

Mera naam hai potey, jo apne baap ke bhi nahi hote.

After watching this scene, who can stay untouched by the poetic nature of introductions (thus showing that even the conventional villains have a softer side of them, not all characters are just black or white, there are shades of grey); sheer mastery of words (potey, after all, can't belong to their fathers, only grandfathers can have potey) and the sheer menace in Bulla's eyes (If the 70s had their Gabbar Singh, this century has Bulla)? And whom does he face? An equally menacing Lambu Atta -- in this battle of giants, heads are bound to roll.

Bulla (the most menacing 'villain' of our times)

This iconic, fast-paced scene sets the tone for the rest of the movie. The main characters are introduced, we learn that Bulla is not to be messed with, and in a classic Hitchcockian/Kurosawian touch, the constant teasing of Chutiya (named, of course, for his hairstyle and to be prounounced by a hard 't', as in tomato) by Potey and Ibu Hatela will have drastic consequences for all of them later, but we're not to know that -- yet.

Events move fast from here on, realizing that Lambu Atta is fast becoming a menace, Bulla kills his brother, hoping that by doing this, further blooshed will be avoided. Also note that we are told that Bulla has decided to 'hamesha rakhta hoon khulla' from now on (a not so subtle reference to an equally iconic character from India's history -- Kautilya/Chanakya). But, as a self-fulfilling prophecy, this only leads to this -- we witness the serious extent to which Bulla takes his promises (he's shown with a khulla torso), the audience is now prepared to see more bloodshed (all, of course, for a far greater cause).

In one of the most moving cinematic obituaries of all time, we are told of Bulla's many aspects, he's a poet, finding rhyme, even at the lowest ebbs of his personal misfortunes (Behen ko lamba, maachis ki tili ko khamba); he's steadfast in his promises (khulla torso), a learned historian (Kautilyan reference above); he is also a devoted brother, who had elaborate plans for his sister's marriage.

Lambu Atta (after escalating the war, thus scripting his own downfall)

From now on, it's only a matter of time before Lambu Atta gets his Maut ka Chaanta. The scene is important in many ways. We learn that even Bulla, the epitome of villainy, believes in fairness (he says that the death of his sister, while sad, was not unexpected -- after all, Lambu Atta was just trying to recover his 'bhai ki maut ka ghaata'). Some critics have also interpreted this as a sign of strong support to not completely discarding notions of fairness/morality even while at the fringes of society.

The director also makes a strong statement in favour of women rights -- Bulla says that the reason he's killing Lambu Atta is not on account of his sister's murder, but her rape -- thus delivering a tight slap on faces of all feminists who wrongly accused him of being anti-feminist (yes, even this classic was banned for a couple of weeks on those flimsy charges). Even when Atta makes a statement about neeche bajane ke liye seeti, he's stopped in his tracks by Potey, thus showing clearly where director's message lies. In a scene remniscient of passages from Gita, Bulla performs his Dharma over a very tempting offer from Atta, and in what must be one of the most understated performances of all time, Lambu passes on to meet his maker.

Bulla, Chutiya and mantri (in happier times)

So, the stage is now set for Prabhuji's entry. Bulla has finished off all competition, thus establishing a monopoly, the police, the industrialist and the politician are all in cohoots with him, and against these seemingly unsurmountable odds, one would think, even Mithun-da as Shankar (a humble coolie working, amonst other places, at an airport, a shipyard and a chawl) -- capable of this (yes, Matrix copied the slow hand movements from here) and this (seen here, solving rural Bengal's water problem, once and for all) -- has no chance. But then, it's audience's expectations against the director's brilliance, and in this battle of wits, sheer genius is bound to triumph over motley audience sensibilities.

Shankar prevents Kala Shetty (Bulla's henchman) from escpaing after kafanchor neta's murder. Shetty is handed over to the police, and in, what must be a first, he's tried, convincted and sentenced well before the day is over. Now, that Bulla's paths have crossed with Shankar's, we can expect fireworks, and for once, the audience gets what it expects.

The movie carries on with its ebbs and flows, each scene a new revelation, a new window of opportunity to peep into the deepest, darkest confines of director's brains. A detailed review of the movie, it is widely agreed, is worthy of a doctorate and so, it's imperative to concentrate only on the broad synopsis.

Shankar's sister is saved from getting raped by a good samaritan and quite understandably, she decides to get married to him. However, everything's not as it seems. In a bizzare and cruel twist, Shankar's sister is handed over to Chutiya, for his consumption. However, Chutiya, is not the same harmless person we saw him as in the first scene. In the meantime, he has grown powerful (where it matters), thanks to special capsules from London Bulla has been getting for him -- so powerful, that, inspite of his best intentions, Shankar's sister dies. Rather than explaining the whole thing to Shankar (who, no doubt, would have been considerate enough to understand), in a Hamletian fit, Chutiya decides to bury the body.

Chutiya (commits a grave error, halfway through the movie)

Shankar, a staunch believer in non-violence and Satyagraha, decides to wait a bit before taking revenge and sings a couple of songs with Radha, his childhood sweetheart, who, is an epitome of a healthy, well-fed, Indian nari (another slap in feminists' collective face). However, all hell breaks loose when his father is killed by the police inspector (to be fair to the inspector, the father was being a PITA, stopping inspector from eating chicken/mutton, drinking wine and in general, from having a good time).

In a scene, many times more powerful than the climax scene in Aakrosh, Shankar decides that enough is enough and just says -- 'Do, char, aath, das -- Bas'. Yes, just the five words, no lengthy sermons of how he's going to fry Bulla alive or relish in killing Chutiya. While killing Potey, Ibu, the inspector and even Chutiya is no big deal for Shankar, disposing of Bulla is no mean task. Not that Shankar would want to kill him that easily either.

So, finally, on the 10th day of his rage (remember 'Do, char, aath, das -- Bas'), Shankar decides to finish off Bulla once and for ever. However, in a scene, much grander than that in Ben Hur, the director reminds us of Bulla's tremendous grassroots' support, the whole country's autorickshaw drivers come to support him, and for once, it seems that Shankar is on the wrong foot. But Shankar soon pulls out a 'bazooka cum rocket launcher' from his arsenal, and after that, it's only a matter of time before all the autos are shot down (rather, blasted away) one by one.

This scene also vaguely implies (by auto-drivers' support for Bulla) that once, not in so distant past, Bulla must have been just like Shankar (gareebon ke liye jwala....). Thus, even in the climax scene, the dirctor reminds us that violence is no solution and even Shankar will have to guard against becoming the very part of the system he seeked to destroy.

Thus, the tyranny of Bulla is ended and Shankar Raj is established. However, for Kanti Shah's message, this is only the beginning. The beauty of the movie lies not only in its 'breath of a fresh air' like script, not even in the countless powerful performances by one and all, rather it lies in the millions of ways it can be interpreted. No matter which angle one looks at it from (political, economic, social), the movie has messages relevant to every field. As an example, Bulla gets Chutiya's capsules from London, an endorsement of open market policies (remember that even in late 1990s, Swadeshi was a holy cow).

One only wonders why Bappi da was not chosen for the music -- the film could only have gone from strength to strength, had it been blessed by his music.

Back with a bang! (or am I)?

Okay, I have taken (yet another) vow, to update my blog on a more regular basis. Keep watching this space for more!

PS/Disclaimer: Last time, I said that, the blog didn't see a single post for 3 years!

Day Zee - Continued...

Well, the day carried on like that. By the end of 2 hours from the start, most of the people were a harried lot, constantly jumping from one interview to the next, with little or no gap in between, mouthing tailor-made answers to standard (and stupid) questions like 'Why this bank?', 'Where do you see yourself 5 years from now? 10 years?', 'What are your long-term goals?' ......blah-blah (yep, such questions are actually asked. After all these years, one would think companies would have learnt. But, nopes, doesn't look like it).

Personally, I was in a bad-bad state. After the end of couple of interviews, the stress was starting to get to me. No company had shown an interest in me (read 'made an offer'....I was later to learn that all this was bull-shit. A certain i-bank supposedly made mock offers or at least asked questions like 'If I were to make an offer to you right now, will you accept it?' to everyone who interviewed with it).

As usual, I had not eaten anything since the morning (I can't have anything on 'big' days). With a big headache and a couple of aspirins in me, I entered the next interview (Citigroup - the only company so far that was kind of bullish on me, it was my 2nd round here) and lo, in the middle of the (40 minute long, hard-core techinical interview- yep, they asked me my engineering), I forgot where I was. Not kidding, I actually forgot what I was saying and asked the interviewers what I was saying. For a brief moment, they looked totally shocked and didn't say a thing. However, they soon started laughing and said that such things happen. Fortunately, the interview went on well and after it, the HR lady actually came to me and told me to relax. She actually said that 'I felt so horrible for you. I can understand the stress you have to go through ......blah, blah.' Looking back at it now, it seems so damn funny but back then, I actually believed her.

Anyway, so, the day continued. By evening (when I had had a total of around 10 interviews), I virtually knew I was getting an offer from one of the banks and a second one was kind of interested too. So, I was a little more relaxed.

Well, I did tank a couple of interviews after the job offer (more on tanking later) and so, the day ended. By the end of it, though, the feeling was not one of elation, nor of joy..........it was more of relief, relief to be out of the process finally.

Day Zee

So, after all the endless preparation and PPTs right till the end (with a certain 'big' i-bank guy paining the hell out of junta and 'interacting' with them till 1 am the previous night), it was day zero. Two more PPTs scheduled in the morning and then it was on to MDC lawns.

The sight was unbelievable. When they say that IIMs are professional, I had always treated that with 'healthy' contempt. But believe me, the whole atmosphere was psyching to say the least. There was a 'Control Room' and around 10 'trackers' with walkie-talkies (all 2nd years), looking all important and smug. (I was soon to realize how important a role these guys play).....As for the PRs (Placement Represetatives), they were trying to juggle 2 coomunication frequencies at once......in fact, a company guy even called them 'Agent Smiths'......Plus, a whole lot of people calling themselves the 'Hospi' were around with food, fruits, water, drinks and even medicines [i myself had to use a couple of aspirins later in the day...:-)]. And all these volunteers were drawn from the 2nd year. (frankly, i never expected them to put so much fight in something that gives them no 'tangible' returns, at least not in the short-term)

Anyway,there we were, around 140 of us (yep, so many of us did have interviews on the day), people ranging from 12 shortlists to guys with a single one, all dressed in smart business suits. All of us were gathered in the hospi area, trying to look cheerful and confident but apprehensive all the same. The 'time of reckoning' had arrived. One by one, guys started getting called for their rendeavouz with the companies. The placement wheel slowly but surely started turning and the process started.

[Well, skipping the operational details now, I will try and describe the events/activities going on.]

Gradually, the shocking (at least for me) events of the day started unfolding. Probably, for the first time ever on the campus, there was a demand-supply mis-match, i.e., more demand for 'star performers' than supply. It was amusing to see some of the biggest names in industry pitching desperately to 'prospective' employees, trying to convince them why their company is much better than the other company also in line. And the earlier you reach the interview room, the better are your chances of getting brain-washed.

So, we had the BCG guys literally fighting with the tracker over a certain girl they wanted for their interviews. They actually had 2-3 of their (junior) guys scouting for the candidates themselves (effectvely acting as trackers) and snatching them away before the trackers could reach them. Finally, the situation got deteriorated to such an extent that they started to almost assault the BCG tracker and he was given an 'order' to hide (by the control room). Finally, a PR had to placate them by getting a lot of girls to interview with them. By the way, this was heard on the trackers' walkies as 'Tell the BCG people to hold on. Mayur (the PR) is coming with the gals.'

And this was not the only incident. From GS to Lehman to DB (these guys had the audacity to keep one guy enclosed in their room for close to 5 hours at a strech, supposedly, they were trying to convince him. The poor guy had to be rescued later after he sent a SMS to one of the PRs), the story repeated itself. In fact, the companies were so desperate that they started paining the trackers and so things like 'ladki do ya bhawal do' were often heard on the walkies. (Bhawal is a guy who was supposedly 'hot' as all companies wanted him).

Other gems included....(A conversation between two company trackers):
Tracker 1 (GS): 'GS is hot on Indu. They want her now.'

Tracker 2 (some other i-bank): The equally (unintentional, in all probability) funny reply......'I know she's hot. And so, am not sending her. I want her too.'

[Continued....]

Summers.....

Standard Disclaimer/Excuse:

It's been a long long time since I last wrote a blog....not because I did not want to write it or didn't have ebough 'material' to write one, but purely because of the reason that for the last 3-4 months, I have been so busy that I simply didn't have the enough enthu to write one.Ok, enough of excuses, let's get along with the job at hand.

Summers at IIMB - an insider's perspective:

This is a series of write-ups about the most 'important' event in a B-school calendar, the placements season. I will try and provide a first-hand account of what the glorified and over-hyped process is all about. Being a part of the place (Placement Committee in local lingo), I guess I am justified in calling myself an 'insider' in more ways than one.

Anyway, right from the time we landed on the campus (even before that, if I take into account the e-mail mentors stuff), the preparationn for summers had started. I do not know of any other campus that takes its placements so seriously and puts in so much fight for it. And I am not saying it beacuse I am a placu (read Placement Committee guy). The fact is that right from our first week, the place has set deadlines for something or the other almost every alternate day.....deadlines for making up your resume, deadlines for filling up mock forms, deadliines for submitting answers to mock questions asked in interviews, deadlines, deadlines, deadlines.....with the result that by the time our resumes were finally taken up for applications to the company, for an average guy (who had put in an average amount of fight on his resume), his resume had undergone at least 10 iterations. (My resume had undergone 18, by the way, and it's the 18th version that I used to apply to all companies). So, inspite of the place being, in general, hated on the campus for its 'unnecessary' imposition of work-load, our resume quality was, in general, much better than our 'sister' institutes. Even most of the big recruiters admit that much and junta realize that too....so, all said and done, come the placement season and suddenly, the place, reviled by most, in mormal circumstances is 'not so bad' after all....(Anyway, more of it later, I am digressing from the issue).


The Week Before:

So, let us start. After more than a month of almost final daily form submissions (with really vague and arbit questions the comapnies pride themselves in asking) and 3-4 presentations by companies everyday (attendance was compulsory, by the way, with heavy fine impositions on absentees), the shortlists had started trickling in for the big 'Day Zee' (as Day zero firms are called) i-banks. With every short-list, what we had heard from our seniors from the very start seemed to be coming true. All that the banks looked for was an IIT background, a girl (yes, I am not being a sexist here, it's the truth) - for an IITian girl (a rare species), you might not as well sit for the interviews, you are in; a SRCC or a St. Stephen's in your resume was bound to get you a shot at interview too. If you had a 'exotic' background, that is, a history or a languages major, nothing like it. Basically, everything but merit counted as the criterion....

Anyway, with every shorl-list, cribs about 'arbit' short-lists grew louder. Reputations were being built and destroyed, lists being dissected to see how many 'arbit' guys are there and so, what are my chances of getting through...In any case, except for a couple of exceptions, the expected 'Day Zee' guys (yep, some of us were already branded as these) got multiple short-lists, with the highest number for one of my friends (he got 15 shortlists....).

The stage was now set for the 'Battle Royale' with guys with 1-2 shortlists determined to crack them while guys with multiple ones determined to crack at least one (we have had cases in the past with guys being interviewed by all firms on Day zero and ending up getting placed only on Day 2). There was a palpable tension in air with everyone (even guys with no interviews scheduled on Day 0) being close to snapping anytime.

On to Day Zero now....