3 idiots – Part I

This is not a movie review, just my instant reactions. This post may also not be well written, as are my other posts. All characters are represented by their real life names. (Viz. AK will mean Amir Khan)

As most of the movie starring AK that goes along well with a narration or rewinding the past, 3 idiots also started in the present, collating traces from past and knitting them well to keep the audience guessing. What is new this time? AK who is 44, already looks 22 in the promo, what now?

The movie tries to focus on the morale that routine style of teaching will not help face struggle in life. Scoring high marks neither. It also seemed to carry forward the dialogue from TZP, “Race hi jeetna hai to ghode paida karo insaan nahi”. It contained good sense of humor as well but sometimes the humor got carried away with silly and unrealistic act. The plot to get RM out of the plane seemed purely Bollywood-ish. BI was a hit again. Great body language as always with some similarity in syllable switch by SK (Charlie) in Kaminey. Money and Breast, Miracle and Rape, were made synonyms to make the audience laugh, was not bad. "Find and replace" feature of a word editor was projected which I also use it very often. Objective of using it is different though. The scooter seemed good enough to carry 3 people; paralyzed ones seemed to be mocked upon. It did not seemed sensible from a person who talks revolution in college to behave the way it was portrayed in SJ’s home. If you want to see comic in those situations than its OK. The BW theme was not bad though. The intermission was a great suspense. So what was it? A Ghost ?? Nay!! This is not a ghost movie!! I bet, it made people return early from the lavatory and popcorn stalls. No unzipping and unwinding of your pants to show your bum, also if you lose the bet. Ha ha...

Drinking and proposing was good addition to the movie, both turn by turn. By AK and then by KK. The giggling in between, the flick of eye, the twist of lips has become trademark of any AK movie. The name given to AK’s character both the fake name (I mean the real name of JJ in the movie), and the so called real name “Wangdu” was also interesting as it had been when he was DJ in RDB, Nikumbh in TZP. Chotu’s real name as recited by the Jealous guy reminded me of Padosan, when KK (Kishor Kumar) used to call SD – Bangdu.

The research joke (pen for space) seemed silly and momentarily reduced the heights of content quality at the beginning as it is a very common joke. But when BI reasoned it while presenting the pen to AK, contrary to the use of pencil, made the joke hilarious. The conductivity of salt water was not new, as it is acclaimed practice in many colleges in India (especially engineering). But this time it was used by the fresher which is otherwise in reality. Also interesting was no revenge kind of thing was shown by the seniors. But it is not necessary that there is always a revenge scene. The suicide(s) and the suicide attempt were good addition to support the morale of the story.

Lyrics by Swanand Kirkire were great and the vocals too. Listening to the songs, Give Me Sunshine, Zoobi Zoobi, and Jaane Nahi Denge with the context of the movie made the songs much much better.

AK made the helicopter work, was pretty genius. But no any instances was there which showed them working for their final year project. One may think, hey!! Now this is not happening. You can’t incorporate every detail. The use of web cam, the vacuum pump as suction, the battery for the inverter, the barometer, seemed a bit OTT (Over The Top) and cheap climax comedy kind of thing, provided the flooded scenario. Don’t know about this, but real doctors can comment on the use of vacuum pump. Instant short circuit using a reasonably long wire by the kids in the duration of a pee also seemed unrealistic towards the end. No worries, I got it. Like teacher like student. It was OK in the beginning, when AK made the guy to end up in short circuit as it was a long count. And in duration of 5-6 years 400 patents (I guess I heard it right) was also a staggering numbers. But who cares what is patent here, isn’t it?

Electricity was off. What to do? I thought why not write something on the movie you watched 1 hour before. After Lagaan, I watch every AK movie in theaters, with the notion of innovation and exuberance of well scripted context. So, thought “Ek Post To Banta Hai”, hence this post. So, I end up my post saying: 3 idiots is a good movie but will not end up saying “wow”, “wow” and “wow”. This movie may have a turnover of 100 crores in 4 days, no worries, that’s good and I am not making any hype about this fact. But I will always rate DCH, TZP, RDB higher than this one. Many seems reluctant to compare AK, but who says he cannot be compared with himself??

3 idiots – Part II will also be posted soon. Have patience… Keep chipping into my blog... C Ya...

"Roshan kya jaane uski post ka kya hoga, hit milegi ya saala bakwaas hoga."

Leaving on a Jet Plane

Toronto: 2nd July 2017 - Sunday

The coffee cup was holding my attention. I was in the revolving restaurant on the 21st floor, sipping coffee. My regular hangout, when I am alone. The layout and the theme of that part of the restaurant were changed. But again, the coffee cup was interesting. Not the shape, I was interested in. But the curved text which seemed to me like some calligrapher had written, made me wind back. Zooming in the memory lane, I was rewinding fast. It’s been almost 7 years I left Nepal. And the reason for leaving my country may seem trifling. But for me, it had hit my inner self hard.

I will never forget that day. It is embossed in my grey matters. It was the day when I was walking to my office when it happened. It was day one, 20 December 2009, of the three day strike. The then opposition party, the Unified Nepal Communist Party had called a three day strike (bandh) all over Nepal, for establishing the so called “Civil Supremacy” in the country, against the reinstating of the army chief by the President. It was interesting to hear that the party was not there when I visited Nepal in January 2014. Remains of it were there in the form of three extremist groups (of the many others) fighting for three different autonomous states in Nepal. Anyways, the result of this strike was that public and private transport came to a standstill. Vehicular movement for ambulance, so called press, so called diplomatic missions, so called human rights activists and THE United Nations, and other powerful: you know who, were not restricted. Besides, anyone who plies his/her vehicle got it shattered and many a times the passengers also get good beating. This was the common notion of a strike in Nepal, and no one ever tried to deviate from this interpretation. I was also not an exception to ride my way to work on my Pulsar. I resorted walking to my office as every person does when there is a bandh.

It only takes 35 minutes to reach my office. It was some kind of fun, walking. You cross people and they pass on a smile that was a representation of something like – “Have a nice walk”. You return the smile with an answer within – “Thanks, you have a nice trudge as well”. Children play cricket in the middle of road. Nice pitch they get. 22 yards seemed too less for a cricket pitch during those times. Some kids get hold to play football with the party workers who are on guard to enforce the bandh. Many revolutionists in their late teen, holding laathis in their hand. Anyone violating the rules (their rules I mean) of the bandh, were threatened, thrashed. For many it was a narrow escape by only listening to the complementary mouthful of M-words.  (In Nepal M words corresponds to the customary F word's).  Nice way to take guard of your sentinel, isn’t it? In the main squares you will find top leaders of that party giving provocative speech to tussle the government and instigate the security personnel. Prime Minister and Home Minister were the ones who were attached to the majority of instantly interesting and humorous but very derogatory adjectives.  Party people will dance on revolutionary songs being played on huge speakers. Along with them bunch of blind supporters from public will also dance shaggily on the tune. Nice way to entertain people and get hold of things though. And the railings of the side road also get beaten up. Never knew why? Tires are burnt on the middle of the road. Black fumes from them make the blue sky black. Stones are pelted on the security personnel every now and then to incite them. Most of the time it leads to scuffling and firing of tear gas. Many enjoy basking in the sun listening to the audio (music, slogans, and confrontational speeches) and eating badaam, makai, chana, bhattmaas. Nice profit to the street vendors, I guess. Some play Baghchal – an indigenous game of Nepal, by sketching the lines for the board on the road. This is how the scene goes overall.

On my way to office there was a bridge about 70 meters long and about 2 meters wide, over the Bagmati river in a place called Sankhamool. Only motor bikes and pedestrians were allowed. No cars, no buses, no trucks. It couldn’t. I heard recently that the bridge collapsed last year after the pillars loose the foothold because of the sand smuggling [Diving into the depth of the river and scooping out sand and selling]. On the way you think of the country, your past, your present and murky future seeing the current trend of dirty politics. The political situation had already started triggering in me to migrate to other country. I always thought that there will be a good morning after a long war. But the hope was going grim, at least in my prime lifetime.

I was in the middle of the bridge, and saw a funeral was underway underneath the bridge. I paused to see the incineration of the dead body from the height. Closed my eyes, paid my respect to the departed soul, and started ambling again. The river Bagmati is thought to be a sacred river (in reality it is used as the main sewerage of the capital of Nepal), so funeral and memorial services sermon near the banks of Bagmati. And below that bridge were constructions like shades, cemented sitting area, platforms for incineration, to facilitate these proceedings.

I paced up a little and saw that three people draped all white were in front of me. But surrounding them, I realized there were about eight to nine guys encircling them moving along with them. I understood the reason for the man-made barricade. Those dressed in white were on their way to the banks of the river underneath the bridge to perform some strict routines of the 13-day ritual for their departed ones. I dropped my pace a little and followed them. The person’s performing the 13-day ritual is believed not be touched by others for one or the other religious reasons. Respect the custom, is what I thought of this strict discipline. Suddenly to my surprise, a young guy of the barricade group raised a long stick and targeted my left ankle. My reflex raised my foot in protection, and my back arched in submissively to take the strike. Then in a harsh voice he asked me to stop. I stopped, astonished!!  I regained my senses after about 10 seconds or so. The distance between me and them was obvious now. Now I felt pity on my state. I am in my own country, and a young lad about 10 years younger to me, threatens me for no obvious reasons. Because of the strict "should not be touched" rule, I always had my intentions clear of following them, and not trying to cross or even go near, until they diverted after the bridge ended. Why that animal behavior? I don't know. I was at loss.

I was upset. Reached my office. Shared this incident with my colleagues. Some laughed. Some felt pity for the situation. Then I decided. Not anymore. No hopes remains now. The politicians are becoming hooligans and someone when it is nothing political behaves animal. Where is this heading to? I can’t be an animal. I decided to migrate, only with the reason that if I am suppressed in others country at least I have a reason to justify “You are not in your own country, take it easy man”. If I live in my OWN country, I have nothing to justify.

I sensed something was trickling my left cheek. I sighed. My left shoulder reached my cheek. It reached again. I looked through the sky. It was blue. A jet was flying high. Saw the coffee cup again, which contained the last dregs in it. Saw the same text written on other cups as well. Asked the waiter, about the significance of the text. He justified it by pointing the plane and significance of the view. I realized I was sitting in a lounge specially meant for the sights of Jet passing by. I Smiled. Read the calligraphic text on the coffee cup “Leaving on a Jet Plane”, pondered for a while, and grabbed my wallet to pay my bill.


(c) All Rights Reserved: Roshan Upadhyay