Yours truly had elsewhere blogged about the implausible script of the global phenomenon, the recent hollywood-bollywood jv, Slumdog Millionaire. Now it has just achieved something more implausible, a whopping eight academy awards!!!! Over the MOON, anybody? Over the top would be more apt. Hollywood likes us to believe that this is what exellent cinema is about, we can't achieve a thing with Indianess of our backyard in the history of a century of cinema. They can, and have done with a few (only a couple) of immensely Indian subjects, and have emerged triumphant. The 82 movie Gandhi was a undoubted aspirant, and a deserved winner. It spoke the language of true cinema, sensuous art and sublime sensibilities. The winner on 23rd February 09 is at best a really brave attempt at westernised bollywood masala. Yours truly has a lot of respect for the academy awards, its choices and the standards. Appreciated the stiff upper lip response to our best hope in recent years,(read Lagaan) their reason for exclusion found to be believable. But now this! A shocker. Yes you like bollywood, everyone who can spell 'cinema' does, so?it gives you a passage to make a hilarious take on a famous quiz show and call it a masterpiece? Not accepted. The drama called Slumdog was a product of a very proffessional bunch of men and women working together.And more such efforts will be eagerly welcomed, but it is too early to bestow oscars on a near comical take on what luck can do for you, in the name of good cinema. The award for Rehman could have come anytime during his colourful carrier, but not this time, the music is just not that superior as the award suggests. Ditto for Gulzar's song Jai Ho. Dhanya ho! What were these jurists thinking? The great poet might be giggling over at the hilarity of the situation, some foreigners judging a rather mundane Hindi lyric and declaring it oscar worthy.Sound mixing, yet another category reserved for an Indian, is highly technical, so may be that does not call for a comment by the uninitiated. All in all, the amount of time,energy and recources spent on the movie at various international events may sound great for bollywood and its future collaboration with the west, but 8 oscar awards is uncalled for. Let's put a figure then,a real one, on the movie's oscar and other awards that it collected(totalling 100). Difficult to figure? Try putting an Indian director at the helm, exactly same movie.Jai Ho.

Most memories of childhood are really sweet, smile inducing and generally treasured little jewels for a majority of us. The little pranks we played... tantrums we had thrown, innocent wishes we had expressed aloud....all of them form a hallowed, misty, sacred (sometimes secret)paradise we uncover in parts with a little walk down the memory lane. Presently i recall two such instances which remain etched in memory after what seems like forever. i visited the botanical garden in Kolkata when i was barely four. It was an exhiliarating experience, and is a top slotter in the memory file. The greenery of the garden spreaded to infinity, a heavy mist blanket floated on the surface like clouds descending on mountain tops. Our party had camped besides the lake, under an ancient banyan. A peanut seller caught my attention by the way he went about his business, making percussion music with his gungroo even while deftly doling out neat conical packets of warm titbits. A regular peanut vendor in Kolkata would garnish the 'chanachoor' or 'mixture' with a lot of onion, green, chilli and coriander, thus adding value to the readymade snack. i got a packet of peanuts from the vendor,(much to my dissappointment since i had fixed my tastebuds on the mouthwatering chanachoor) the shelled ones mind you. i enjoyed them too at times, especially the cracking of the shell part. A couple of peanut shell cracking and husk removing later, i discovered something inside the cone, a really tiny polythene pouch;smaller than the size of a peanut shell. This discovery made all turn their attention to me. Someone fished out the teeny weeny pink substance holding pouch to have a good look. A prick of a hairclip made a dent on the little puffy bag. Out poured some of the pink substance onto the flat palm of uncle. A flick of tongue and a proclamation; jhaalnoon or spiced rock salt. Imagine a poor peanut seller you have seen last, most would sell their ware warmed up with burning charcoal and provide garnish if desired ie only on request.This chap in botanical garden did something that is a rarity in the low cost low margin business of peanut vending. i was pleasantly surprised with the entreprenuers thoughtfulness of providing spiced rock salt in a near impossible package. Just how did he manage that tiny bag to be sealed? Handmade?Machine made? Naah, i dont think so...too costly.Possibly done with heated metal strip with hands. But the point is he managed his small business really well. A customer salutes him after even after twenty five years.
i had just learned how to catch fish at nine years of age, complete with digging out wriggly earth worms and hooking them alive as bait.A pond nearby was a good practicing place for most local boys. i attempted at the shallowest point for the fear of falling in water(i don't know how to swim). A collective hurraying accompanied each catch and there were a quiet a few, but all from fishing partners other than myself. A frustating two hours later as darkness settled, all the boys had left with at least a couple of catches each. i remained alone fighting a swarm of mosquitoes and a sulking heart.It seemed the fishes were selectively partial to my bait, i was about to leave when the line was tugged a bit.Happy to get something at last i yanked it for dear life. There, in the dark moist ground lay my only catch of the day. With no one to celebrate the occasion, i ran home in anticipation of showing off to mom the achievement. As i carefuly unhooked the still moving fish, mom gave a mild laugh saying..just throw it away, its an inedible variety.Fish.