Corporate Social Responsibility. CSR. That's one beloved word of the corporates. Regardless of whether it was or not a correct implementation, right from the grass root level and up, they relish the process, flash the figures of expenditure in annual reports and grab as much the media coverage as possible. It earns them a goodwill, or so they think.
I am not much of a CSR person. I mean doing charity is a noble cause and I do do it in my small capacity. But the need for such pomp eludes me. Even as a group, I don't see the need for colorful fliers and expensive posters adorning the wall to announce that a csr is under way. You might as well add the miscellaneous expenses to the donation amount itself. Why the unnecessary expense? Beats me!
The company I work for is no different. CSR is so dear, that employees are encouraged to participate in all possible causes to raise enough money for the needy. And so we keep spending endlessly on cards, diyas, candles, paper bags, key rings, key holders, chocolates and what not. All at exorbitant prices. I mean I am not against donation, but then just ask for it. Don't sell me a paper bag for fifty bucks or a pack of assorted chocolates for hundred. I want to help but not end up feeling cheated. I hope you are getting the point and hence over time my interest in CSR activities has dwindled. The only one time I thoroughly enjoyed such a thing was taking some NGO kids to a field trip in a zoo. My sole purpose was that I hadn't been there myself, so what better occasion to pay a visit. Vested interests I suppose!
But I have the mother-of-all CSR stories to tell you. The one that I recently attended in office and I am in awe. So here goes...
As usual the CSR buzz was going around with email fliers flooding my mailbox. "Watch this space for more!" ... yea I am already excited about it. The last thing I want is some jazzy graphics in my mail box. I have other important mails to read. One of the activities planned as part of the CSR drive was tshirt painting competition and some nut-head had come up with the idea of an auction where people would bid for tshirts and the collected amount would go towards charity.WTF were the only words that came to my mind. Anyway the competition went well and the masterpieces painted by my office colleagues went up on display for others to see. I appreciate the effort but barring a few, most of them looked like a big mistake. I felt that we were seriously under-running some painting talent. Some were ridiculous to the extent that I even thought we had some retards on the payroll. Nonetheless the efforts were lauded and everyone heartily thanked for their participation.
Next up was the auction. People actually found time to leave their work behind and spend the next two hours in our auditorium bidding for these masterpieces as the michelangelos and the da vincis look upon their creations with great pride. And mind you, this was no ordinary auction. They also had a home-grown team of models to strut the tshirts around. OMG I had no words for the organizing committee. As the models, both guys and girls, walked the makeshift ramp to some peppy music, people cheered and clapped and hooted ( for the girls only ).
Our compère laid down the ground rules for the auction and some etiquettes that needed to be followed. Needless to say, people were aware that real money was involved. So you win, you buy! The minimum bid was to start at Rs.200 with next highest in steps of 50. So it would go 250, 300 .. and so on. Someone protested that 50 was too much and they should make it 25. Obviously this someone wasn't out of recession yet. But good call and everybody agreed. Rs. 200 was already over budget for me so I preferred to keep quite and enjoy the show. All madness was about to start when the first tee went under the hammer.
200 was the opening bid. Someone raised the stakes to 225, someone said 250. So people knew that things weren't going to be generous enough because rather than charity, the buyer seemed more interested in a value for money proposition. After some more bidding, the first tshirt for sold for Rs. 400 which I must say was the least of the bid wins for the day. The fever had just started. The next tshirt bought some 650 in the kitty and the next went for 1000. We thought 1000 would be it. Who would be insane to spend more than that? We were about to be proven wrong.
The heat of the moment was enough to fuel some aggressive bidding between the managers who took the stakes to 2000. Then someone called out 2250 and heads turned. Another call for 2500 and mouths stayed agape. The hammer went down at 2700. Things were insane enough and we were in disbelief. By now the "retard" masterpiece had gone for almost 1700. Again the words WTF crossed my mind. I chose to remain silent and observe the mania.
The models on the ramp were enjoying the prices being quoted. Someone had to remind the bidders that the price is for the tshirt only. No one is taking the model home. The way she blushed on hearing that comment was absolutely priceless. Guffaws in the crowd followed and when the uproar died out people got back to some serious bidding.
Rather than the quality of the painting, it had now become a prestige issue with people ridiculously bidding more and more aggressively. The insanity had now breached 7500 mark. Man, people have a lot of money here. That's the sentiment that started doing rounds and people whose salaries weren't appraised to their satisfaction let out sighs making their disappointment amply clear.
The baap of all bids was about to start and it was the last tshirt on the ramp. Now 200 opening bid was too low to ask. People started with 1000 and stepped up by 500. It was crazy and in no time the bid breached the 5000 mark with two bidders going for it. People had already seen 7500, so this bid seemed meagre if compared. So one of them boldly moved to 6500. The second bidder went silent for a while. People thought this would be it. The compère who kept track of the bids thought it was over. She called for 6500 going once... going twice... A finger was raised and the bidder silently said that he had a price in mind and since it was the last tshirt he would bid to his limit. Everyone was silent and eager to hear what amount this gentleman was willing to spend. He silently uttered his final bid. Rs 10000. Dead silence. Suddenly I realised I was a pauper in company of these elite people who had dug deep into their pockets. And I thought 200 was over budget. This bid of 10000 had shot through the roof. No more bids and the last tshirt went under the hammer for a colossal amount. Unthinkable for many. Ridiculous for few and uncomprehensible for the rest.
The total collections were announced and the team had managed to sell twenty five hand painted tshirt, barely worth twenty five hundred in all, for a massive figure few digits shy of 95000, averaging to almost four thousand per shirt. Basic cost price and profit calculations weren't making any sense. How do you manage collections of this order? Where did all the money come from? Who were these idiots who poured their wallets out?
Even if this was for a good cause this CSR event left me spellbound. It was a cocktail of creativity, charity, insanity, aggression and absolute lack of control over money spending. A lot of oohs and aahs in the audience accompanied every bid that scaled new heights. Some NGO will really be happy to see those funds donated to them. Hope they make some good use of it. As for me, I am done with this CSR stuff. Taken aback, left in awe and thinking is it really worth it. Next time a CSR NGO sale comes up I will be sane enough to buy a paper bag for fifty bucks. After all, it is for a noble cause.
Jun 2, 2010
Apr 7, 2010
Mumbai Nostalgia
Living away from home is quite a challenge. Firstly you have to forgo all the comforts, love and caring of home and secondly you are left to yourself to figure out how to take care of yourself. And this is the fact no matter what your age is. The same question might haunt a school kid sent to boarding school, a college lad put up in a hostel or a young man just starting to earn a living.
But no matter how big the challenge poses itself to be, you always find ways to deal with it. Maybe that's how you learn, adapt and evolve. I can't think of any better example to prove this point, than my younger cousin, who is now in "stage 2" of this living-away-from-home situation.
His studies took him to Chennai and then his job took him to Mumbai. Quite a lucky fellow, I would say. Living in these metros must have earned him pearls of wisdom on life, its intricacies, friends, their face value and real importance, trust, loyalty and some more quintessential ingredients to make for an evolving personality.
Mumbai is where he will start earning some serious money. Which almost immediately means no pocket money. So he'd have to earn and strive on his own. That he could save enough to give back home, would be a wonderful achievement and something to be really proud of. And with what he saves for himself, he is free to splurge and indulge in what I would call living "life" in Mumbai. Its quite a happening place which doesn't waste time enticing you with its charms and once you are under the spell, "Amchi Mumbai" will never let the intoxication wear away.
And so I called up the other night to have a chat and ask hows the new city treating him. He was pretty upbeat for that hour of the night. First symptom that the city-which-never-sleeps was having its effect on him already. I asked about his workplace, the commute, the hang out places in and around the suburb. All in all he seemed quite content in that part of the world. The happening city had not disappointed him and of course it welcomed him with open arms, which did away with the many apprehensions he carried with him the day he landed there. Two weeks on, he is already comfortable with long and swift walks, bustling crowd with people hanging out of local train compartments much like popcorn trying to stay inside the carton. He already knows the locations of the Baristas and the CCDs and the PVRs and the InOrbits of the area. He has already been to an IPL match, cheered and waved in the crowd and lived an experience of a lifetime. What more could one ask for?
All this got me nostalgic. Six years ago my job took me to Mumbai and this is how I see history repeating itself. The only thing is this young fella is doing it in style! I mean an IPL match!! Come on dude!!! I almost bragged about how much I know the city. I mean I haven't stayed for long so I have limited know how, which is now outdated by about four years. A real Mumbaikar would bring me to shame in terms of really knowing the city, but my brother need not know of this. For him I could be the "subject matter expert" on Mumbai, telling fascinating experiences and anecdotes from my stay there. I immediately got into this elder brother talk mode and started dispensing some serious advice. Advice filled with my memories of the place, my mostly good experiences ( as I don't want to scare him right away ), how to deal with difficult room mates et al. The more the memories flood in, the more profound my advices become. And best of all, they are free. I don't charge for them! I find it very euphoric, in a way, since I am reliving my days in Mumbai. They were simply amazing. Nothing compares.
And as I incessantly keep spilling these nuggets of wisdom for my brother to gather as many as possible, he pretends to listen intently, never once giving away the fact that he is dead bored of my anecdotes and cant wait to get off the phone. After all, life in Mumbai is worth living every minute of it! Why takes advance lessons when you will have more fun learning this things by yourselves. I am sure if 3G and video calls were a commonplace, he would still prefer a voice call, so that he can sound interested and not actually reveal the ordeal.
Jokes apart, here's wishing him the best life has to offer in a happening place like Mumbai. I lived there for two years and came back loving every bit of it. He may take his time to fall in love with the city but once he does, there is no escape from it. As Saint Enrique has said in his gospel "You can run, you can hide, but you can't escape my love". That's what Mumbai will call out to him and he better not try to escape. Just surrender to its charm. Life as he knows it, is about to change.
But no matter how big the challenge poses itself to be, you always find ways to deal with it. Maybe that's how you learn, adapt and evolve. I can't think of any better example to prove this point, than my younger cousin, who is now in "stage 2" of this living-away-from-home situation.
His studies took him to Chennai and then his job took him to Mumbai. Quite a lucky fellow, I would say. Living in these metros must have earned him pearls of wisdom on life, its intricacies, friends, their face value and real importance, trust, loyalty and some more quintessential ingredients to make for an evolving personality.
Mumbai is where he will start earning some serious money. Which almost immediately means no pocket money. So he'd have to earn and strive on his own. That he could save enough to give back home, would be a wonderful achievement and something to be really proud of. And with what he saves for himself, he is free to splurge and indulge in what I would call living "life" in Mumbai. Its quite a happening place which doesn't waste time enticing you with its charms and once you are under the spell, "Amchi Mumbai" will never let the intoxication wear away.
And so I called up the other night to have a chat and ask hows the new city treating him. He was pretty upbeat for that hour of the night. First symptom that the city-which-never-sleeps was having its effect on him already. I asked about his workplace, the commute, the hang out places in and around the suburb. All in all he seemed quite content in that part of the world. The happening city had not disappointed him and of course it welcomed him with open arms, which did away with the many apprehensions he carried with him the day he landed there. Two weeks on, he is already comfortable with long and swift walks, bustling crowd with people hanging out of local train compartments much like popcorn trying to stay inside the carton. He already knows the locations of the Baristas and the CCDs and the PVRs and the InOrbits of the area. He has already been to an IPL match, cheered and waved in the crowd and lived an experience of a lifetime. What more could one ask for?
All this got me nostalgic. Six years ago my job took me to Mumbai and this is how I see history repeating itself. The only thing is this young fella is doing it in style! I mean an IPL match!! Come on dude!!! I almost bragged about how much I know the city. I mean I haven't stayed for long so I have limited know how, which is now outdated by about four years. A real Mumbaikar would bring me to shame in terms of really knowing the city, but my brother need not know of this. For him I could be the "subject matter expert" on Mumbai, telling fascinating experiences and anecdotes from my stay there. I immediately got into this elder brother talk mode and started dispensing some serious advice. Advice filled with my memories of the place, my mostly good experiences ( as I don't want to scare him right away ), how to deal with difficult room mates et al. The more the memories flood in, the more profound my advices become. And best of all, they are free. I don't charge for them! I find it very euphoric, in a way, since I am reliving my days in Mumbai. They were simply amazing. Nothing compares.
And as I incessantly keep spilling these nuggets of wisdom for my brother to gather as many as possible, he pretends to listen intently, never once giving away the fact that he is dead bored of my anecdotes and cant wait to get off the phone. After all, life in Mumbai is worth living every minute of it! Why takes advance lessons when you will have more fun learning this things by yourselves. I am sure if 3G and video calls were a commonplace, he would still prefer a voice call, so that he can sound interested and not actually reveal the ordeal.
Jokes apart, here's wishing him the best life has to offer in a happening place like Mumbai. I lived there for two years and came back loving every bit of it. He may take his time to fall in love with the city but once he does, there is no escape from it. As Saint Enrique has said in his gospel "You can run, you can hide, but you can't escape my love". That's what Mumbai will call out to him and he better not try to escape. Just surrender to its charm. Life as he knows it, is about to change.
Apr 4, 2010
The wedding photographer
She was everything you could ask in a girl. Smart, witty, caring, outgoing but rooted at the same time. A pretty face adorned with the most beautiful smile I had ever seen. It would light up my day. I knew I was falling for her since the day I met her. She had come to my shop to get some photographs developed. I was no commercial success by any measure, but the humble shop was all I owned and worked at to earn my living. She on the other hand came from a well to do family in town. A family which had friends in the rich circle of the society, where bank balances were the only entry pass. Though all the moolah had not spoilt her. She didn't believe in measuring people with the depth of their pockets. One quality of hers which made me feel that I could stand up to her and pour my heart out and not expect to be flicked away as a man with no equal status. But how would I expect her to even acknowledge my existence. A quick look at where I stood in the scheme of things made me feel like a pauper dreaming forever to get together with this princess.
If only I had enough money... was all that I was thinking that day, when I was approached by someone who seemed interested in getting wedding photography done. I wasn't inclined as I felt it was mundane and less rewarding. But when I came to know the amount they were willing to pay, I realised that this was no ordinary wedding. Some big shot was throwing a wedding party of the decade. And I knew this would be my chance to earn some serious money.I thought maybe it wont be enough to match the status of my princess, but I would definitely be in a better position to approach her.
Lady luck smiled on me few days later. I was about to close my shop, when she came out of no where to drop of some pictures to be developed. Normally I would have asked the customer to come back the next day, but how could I refuse her. It was pretty late in the evening anyway, so after I was done, I offered to walk her to her place if she didn't mind. She hesitated but agreed. We were silent for most of the walk. I was trying hard to find some words to say, while she was busy checking some messages on her phone. Finally our paths separated. All she said was "Thanks" and all I did was curse myself for having wasted such an opportunity. Who knows when would I be given such a chance again.
She didn't come to collect those pictures for almost two weeks. By then I was getting busy with my schedule and also make preparations for the big shot wedding that I was going to shoot. Ours was a small town, but on that big wedding day, people were swarming all over the place. Clearly the hosts had a lot of money to splurge. I made it on time and starting looking around the place. That's the problem with these big people. They never deal with you directly, some manager or deputy does the work for them. So my first task was to hunt down the man who had come to my shop and discussed things with me. I had to let him know that I was on the job and tell me who all should make it in family album. I learnt the extravagant wedding was of the son of a leading business consultant who was based in Delhi. 'Mittal Consultancies' was a rising star in that business space. I didn't bother myself with other details that were being told and quickly got to my job...greeting guests with a friendly smile and asking them to pose for photographs.
Rich people are so fond of themselves. Every photo I took had people pampered by lots and lots of money. After spending about an hour or so I was no longer interested in clicking these people. I thought I should move on to click snaps of the bride and the groom. I was eagerly waiting for them to make their appearance. I had to wait for some more time, until somebody announced that the bride was walking down the stairs. I quickly moved ahead and prepared my camera to zoom in on her. As I focused on her face, I could not believe who I was seeing in that bridal outfit all set to be married away. That pretty face adorned by a beautiful smile. I heard a loud shattering sound. It could have been wine glasses or a glass decoration but that shattering sound was in fact my poor heart. I was in disbelief. I had flashbacks of her and our walk that evening and how I failed to say something and how she was busy messaging on her phone. Had I dared to fly on wings of love only to crash this way?
I walked up to her wanting to say something. Maybe stop her from going away and tell her how I felt about her. She gave me confused look and said "Excuse me, do I know you?". I heaved and closed my eyes. She had never noticed me. Not from behind the counter of my shop or even after that walk which meant so much to me and made me cling onto some hope."Weh.. Wedding photographer .. madam, how about a close up for the album?" was all that I blurted. I captured a picture perfect face in that frame and a last glimpse of her in my heart. How I carried myself for the rest of the function isn't something that I know for sure. But it hurt. Pangs pierced deep within. The heaviness I carried inside of me was too much to handle. I crashed on the ground gasping for breath.
No! This can't be!! I jolted from my sleep. Beads of sweat resting on my forehead. What a freakish nightmare! Losing the love of your life and that too in such circumstances was enough to give me a mild panic attack. And in that state of panic I turned to my wife, who slept peacefully unaware of what had just happened. The serene look on her face calmed me down. It was only a dream. I turned to the other side to check the time. 2:45 in the morning. And then I glanced at the photo frame by the clock which had my wife's picture in it. A beautiful close-up taken on our wedding. I noticed the frame carefully. In the corner it read, "Mittal Studios - Proprietor Arun Mittal".
Weird, I thought. Was I just dreaming what could have been this man's story in real life? After a long pause, I dismissed that thought and dozed off to sleep, praying no more nightmares for the rest of it.
If only I had enough money... was all that I was thinking that day, when I was approached by someone who seemed interested in getting wedding photography done. I wasn't inclined as I felt it was mundane and less rewarding. But when I came to know the amount they were willing to pay, I realised that this was no ordinary wedding. Some big shot was throwing a wedding party of the decade. And I knew this would be my chance to earn some serious money.I thought maybe it wont be enough to match the status of my princess, but I would definitely be in a better position to approach her.
Lady luck smiled on me few days later. I was about to close my shop, when she came out of no where to drop of some pictures to be developed. Normally I would have asked the customer to come back the next day, but how could I refuse her. It was pretty late in the evening anyway, so after I was done, I offered to walk her to her place if she didn't mind. She hesitated but agreed. We were silent for most of the walk. I was trying hard to find some words to say, while she was busy checking some messages on her phone. Finally our paths separated. All she said was "Thanks" and all I did was curse myself for having wasted such an opportunity. Who knows when would I be given such a chance again.
She didn't come to collect those pictures for almost two weeks. By then I was getting busy with my schedule and also make preparations for the big shot wedding that I was going to shoot. Ours was a small town, but on that big wedding day, people were swarming all over the place. Clearly the hosts had a lot of money to splurge. I made it on time and starting looking around the place. That's the problem with these big people. They never deal with you directly, some manager or deputy does the work for them. So my first task was to hunt down the man who had come to my shop and discussed things with me. I had to let him know that I was on the job and tell me who all should make it in family album. I learnt the extravagant wedding was of the son of a leading business consultant who was based in Delhi. 'Mittal Consultancies' was a rising star in that business space. I didn't bother myself with other details that were being told and quickly got to my job...greeting guests with a friendly smile and asking them to pose for photographs.
Rich people are so fond of themselves. Every photo I took had people pampered by lots and lots of money. After spending about an hour or so I was no longer interested in clicking these people. I thought I should move on to click snaps of the bride and the groom. I was eagerly waiting for them to make their appearance. I had to wait for some more time, until somebody announced that the bride was walking down the stairs. I quickly moved ahead and prepared my camera to zoom in on her. As I focused on her face, I could not believe who I was seeing in that bridal outfit all set to be married away. That pretty face adorned by a beautiful smile. I heard a loud shattering sound. It could have been wine glasses or a glass decoration but that shattering sound was in fact my poor heart. I was in disbelief. I had flashbacks of her and our walk that evening and how I failed to say something and how she was busy messaging on her phone. Had I dared to fly on wings of love only to crash this way?
I walked up to her wanting to say something. Maybe stop her from going away and tell her how I felt about her. She gave me confused look and said "Excuse me, do I know you?". I heaved and closed my eyes. She had never noticed me. Not from behind the counter of my shop or even after that walk which meant so much to me and made me cling onto some hope."Weh.. Wedding photographer .. madam, how about a close up for the album?" was all that I blurted. I captured a picture perfect face in that frame and a last glimpse of her in my heart. How I carried myself for the rest of the function isn't something that I know for sure. But it hurt. Pangs pierced deep within. The heaviness I carried inside of me was too much to handle. I crashed on the ground gasping for breath.
No! This can't be!! I jolted from my sleep. Beads of sweat resting on my forehead. What a freakish nightmare! Losing the love of your life and that too in such circumstances was enough to give me a mild panic attack. And in that state of panic I turned to my wife, who slept peacefully unaware of what had just happened. The serene look on her face calmed me down. It was only a dream. I turned to the other side to check the time. 2:45 in the morning. And then I glanced at the photo frame by the clock which had my wife's picture in it. A beautiful close-up taken on our wedding. I noticed the frame carefully. In the corner it read, "Mittal Studios - Proprietor Arun Mittal".
Weird, I thought. Was I just dreaming what could have been this man's story in real life? After a long pause, I dismissed that thought and dozed off to sleep, praying no more nightmares for the rest of it.
Mar 13, 2010
My name is Kaustubh and I am not a SRK fan
I am aware of how many new enemies I may have already made by making that statement, but that is exactly what I mean to say and that too with a spin-off on the title of his latest movie. Though it may seem like a shameless rip-off and a cowardly act of plagiarism, I see it merely as a way to grab some attention. SRK is the badshah of bollywood. That fact is undeniable. Just a thought about the colossal number of followers out there who believe in the religion of bollywood and consider SRK as none less than a god makes me feel that I owe them an explanation why I dont belong with them.
Its nothing personal. But I just cant stand his films. Mainly for one reason - I look for something meaningful when it comes to cinema and mainstream bollywood has nothing to offer in that space. Name his biggest hits and I will have my reasons not to have seen them or never to see them again. The list of SRK movies which I am never going to see again in my life is an ever increasing one for me.
I cant believe there are people out there who swear by DDLJ. I can do DDLJ "bashing" till eternity. That one is definitely touted to be my best hated film of all times. People who know this have used the inside information to their advantage. It was one of those office birthday celebrations where after the cake cutting formalities, you ask the person to do something. Sing, dance, tell a joke, whatever it takes to makes the masses happy. As luck would have it, on my birthday my office colleagues had printed out some lyrics for me to sing and entertain them. That damned song was none other than "Mehndi laga ke rakhna" from DDLJ. My embarrassment was evident when I was made to sing that horrible horrible song. Yes one use of the word horrible is not enough here. And though everyone had a hearty laugh, I cursed the stupid song from that stupid movie. Nonetheless it was the performance of the year.
DDLJ is just to start with. My list of bad SRK movies is a long one. Pardes, Kuch Kuch Hota Hai, Mohobbatein, Main Hoon Na, Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham, Kal Ho Na Ho, Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna, Om Shanti Om all make it to the list. I don't remember enjoying any of these at all. Oh of course how could I forget Veer Zara, the paramount story of unconditional love. Give me a break!! But hey, do I see a pattern here. All these crappy movies belong to the same banner, more or less. Now I feel like blaming it on YR Films or Dharma productions altogether. They are the ones responsible to bring out the worst in SRK. Such melodrama, mindless plots, nonsensical action, forced humor et al. SRK still might have an iota of good acting in him. But such movies just dont demand it.
And what is this that I read in some gossip news!! Mr SRK wished to do p*rn once upon a time!! Nothing unusual. He is used to doing movies with no stories. But I don't want to see one of these where SRK is overacting again. As if women faking it wasn't enough.
I once got into this argument, what is it about SRK that is most annoying? Is it his success, his fame or his wealth? Sure he is successful and famous and he is at a place where only few can dream to reach. He has worked his way to achieve and retain his stardom.But I strongly believe he is there only for the money and not the art. Commercialism leaves little space for creativity. And like all of them, none stands out as an exceptional piece of performing art.
Having said that, I must mention that some of his movies have been outstanding. Swades, Chak de India, Devdas and I even liked Asoka (though Kareena Kapoor had more to do with it). I have only one word to explain why this is so. The director. Those who know what to ask of SRK have made the magic appear on the screen. The rest just work on the same formula year in and year out, churning out films under huge banners and banking on the crazy fans who will see the movie just for SRK. I have no doubt he can demand such hysteria and a huge fan following.
I cannot be all negative about SRK. He is there for a reason. There is something in him that makes him great. He ventures to whatever place and returns back a conqueror. Movies, ad-world, cricket, award functions. All will seem lack lustre without this name. People love him, worship him. But what works for most, doesn't work for me. He may rule the hearts of millions, but mine is not one of them. I chose not to join the crowd and stand by what I said. My name is Kaustubh and I am not a SRK fan.
Its nothing personal. But I just cant stand his films. Mainly for one reason - I look for something meaningful when it comes to cinema and mainstream bollywood has nothing to offer in that space. Name his biggest hits and I will have my reasons not to have seen them or never to see them again. The list of SRK movies which I am never going to see again in my life is an ever increasing one for me.
I cant believe there are people out there who swear by DDLJ. I can do DDLJ "bashing" till eternity. That one is definitely touted to be my best hated film of all times. People who know this have used the inside information to their advantage. It was one of those office birthday celebrations where after the cake cutting formalities, you ask the person to do something. Sing, dance, tell a joke, whatever it takes to makes the masses happy. As luck would have it, on my birthday my office colleagues had printed out some lyrics for me to sing and entertain them. That damned song was none other than "Mehndi laga ke rakhna" from DDLJ. My embarrassment was evident when I was made to sing that horrible horrible song. Yes one use of the word horrible is not enough here. And though everyone had a hearty laugh, I cursed the stupid song from that stupid movie. Nonetheless it was the performance of the year.
DDLJ is just to start with. My list of bad SRK movies is a long one. Pardes, Kuch Kuch Hota Hai, Mohobbatein, Main Hoon Na, Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham, Kal Ho Na Ho, Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna, Om Shanti Om all make it to the list. I don't remember enjoying any of these at all. Oh of course how could I forget Veer Zara, the paramount story of unconditional love. Give me a break!! But hey, do I see a pattern here. All these crappy movies belong to the same banner, more or less. Now I feel like blaming it on YR Films or Dharma productions altogether. They are the ones responsible to bring out the worst in SRK. Such melodrama, mindless plots, nonsensical action, forced humor et al. SRK still might have an iota of good acting in him. But such movies just dont demand it.
And what is this that I read in some gossip news!! Mr SRK wished to do p*rn once upon a time!! Nothing unusual. He is used to doing movies with no stories. But I don't want to see one of these where SRK is overacting again. As if women faking it wasn't enough.
I once got into this argument, what is it about SRK that is most annoying? Is it his success, his fame or his wealth? Sure he is successful and famous and he is at a place where only few can dream to reach. He has worked his way to achieve and retain his stardom.But I strongly believe he is there only for the money and not the art. Commercialism leaves little space for creativity. And like all of them, none stands out as an exceptional piece of performing art.
Having said that, I must mention that some of his movies have been outstanding. Swades, Chak de India, Devdas and I even liked Asoka (though Kareena Kapoor had more to do with it). I have only one word to explain why this is so. The director. Those who know what to ask of SRK have made the magic appear on the screen. The rest just work on the same formula year in and year out, churning out films under huge banners and banking on the crazy fans who will see the movie just for SRK. I have no doubt he can demand such hysteria and a huge fan following.
I cannot be all negative about SRK. He is there for a reason. There is something in him that makes him great. He ventures to whatever place and returns back a conqueror. Movies, ad-world, cricket, award functions. All will seem lack lustre without this name. People love him, worship him. But what works for most, doesn't work for me. He may rule the hearts of millions, but mine is not one of them. I chose not to join the crowd and stand by what I said. My name is Kaustubh and I am not a SRK fan.
Jan 4, 2010
A New Year Resolution
Four days into the new year and seems things haven't picked up the way they should have. My extended new year vacation continues. For reasons like the long weekend and a planned day off work, I am blessed with enough time to laze around, catch up with my reading, blogging and sleeping. All put together this has been a really wonderful time all for myself.
Of course I wasn't going to spend the new year all by myself. With 2010 knocking on our door, we had arranged a small party with family and close friends. It was quite a different experience welcoming the new year over a small cook out party. I can't take all the credit for it and can't thank enough, the rightful people who made it look so deceptively simple.
Our immediate resolution was to stay up all night to chat on whatever topic strikes us first. Chains of topics followed ranging from no-nonsense to all nonsense that we could jabber about. The talks struck gold only after we had retired to sleep and woken up again the next day to continue where we had left off. That topic is something which makes it to my agenda for 2010. Can't disclose all here. :)
The cook out was a pleasant way to welcome the new year. But for the three days that followed, I didn't have much to do. Just relaxing before the start of the rest of 2010. Idle times helped me do some retrospection. But then I thought to myself I do enough retrospection all the time. I think it helps, but simply analyzing your mistakes is no way to deal with what your life holds for you ahead.
I don't even know the word for it. Futurospection, if at all there is anything of the sort. But this word that I invent here only means that I am going to be more analytical and calculative about how things are going to be in the year to come. I resolve to put my happy-go-lucky attitude into a back seat. I resolve to take control of my life and steer it the way I want to. Having little milestones along the road is better than having an uncertain destination at the end of it. That does not mean I squeeze the fun out of life as I know it. The road will have its ups and down and that roller coaster should be a fun to ride along. Except, I want to be the one to drive that car rather than be guided by the rails all along.
2010 promises to be big. I have a list of could-have-beens which I can still achieve and not worry about an year wasted. Then of course there are other things in life which will give it a deeper meaning, a sense of purpose. I want to give it some definite direction rather than go with the flow. These things I talk about, I may not even know yet. Else I would already be in control making this resolution look like a farce.
So this is what I am going to do. Think hard and focus on a life I want to live. This canoe I ride will always keep sweeping along the current unless I row well. If I have to get somewhere or avoid crashing into the rocks, I will have to learn to run the oars.
Futurospection ... that is my resolution for 2010. Please add that word to Webster's because I will be using it time and again, until it gets clichéd.
Of course I wasn't going to spend the new year all by myself. With 2010 knocking on our door, we had arranged a small party with family and close friends. It was quite a different experience welcoming the new year over a small cook out party. I can't take all the credit for it and can't thank enough, the rightful people who made it look so deceptively simple.
Our immediate resolution was to stay up all night to chat on whatever topic strikes us first. Chains of topics followed ranging from no-nonsense to all nonsense that we could jabber about. The talks struck gold only after we had retired to sleep and woken up again the next day to continue where we had left off. That topic is something which makes it to my agenda for 2010. Can't disclose all here. :)
The cook out was a pleasant way to welcome the new year. But for the three days that followed, I didn't have much to do. Just relaxing before the start of the rest of 2010. Idle times helped me do some retrospection. But then I thought to myself I do enough retrospection all the time. I think it helps, but simply analyzing your mistakes is no way to deal with what your life holds for you ahead.
I don't even know the word for it. Futurospection, if at all there is anything of the sort. But this word that I invent here only means that I am going to be more analytical and calculative about how things are going to be in the year to come. I resolve to put my happy-go-lucky attitude into a back seat. I resolve to take control of my life and steer it the way I want to. Having little milestones along the road is better than having an uncertain destination at the end of it. That does not mean I squeeze the fun out of life as I know it. The road will have its ups and down and that roller coaster should be a fun to ride along. Except, I want to be the one to drive that car rather than be guided by the rails all along.
2010 promises to be big. I have a list of could-have-beens which I can still achieve and not worry about an year wasted. Then of course there are other things in life which will give it a deeper meaning, a sense of purpose. I want to give it some definite direction rather than go with the flow. These things I talk about, I may not even know yet. Else I would already be in control making this resolution look like a farce.
So this is what I am going to do. Think hard and focus on a life I want to live. This canoe I ride will always keep sweeping along the current unless I row well. If I have to get somewhere or avoid crashing into the rocks, I will have to learn to run the oars.
Futurospection ... that is my resolution for 2010. Please add that word to Webster's because I will be using it time and again, until it gets clichéd.
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