Chikni Chameli sans whistles

'Watching a movie is enjoyable only in a cinema,' said my friend looking at Heer Palace, once the grandest cinema of Kanpur.

By cinema, my friend meant those cinemas which nowadays have been rechristened as single screen theatres.

As a kid, it was my dream to watch at least one movie in Heer Palace.

Sitting imposingly at Mall Road, in the heart of Kanpur, Heer Palace is still the grandest cinema of Kanpur. But it is losing to multiplex theatres.

I recalled my friend’s words while I was watching a reality comedy show on television.

A contestant posing as an ‘old theatre’ came on the stage and started pleading – ‘Please do not kill me; please don’t demolish me. Save me.’

His partner, posing as a multiplex theatre said, ‘Huh! Who cares for something old like you?’

The ‘old theatre’ said, ‘It was I who introduced cinemas to people.’

The multiplex theatre said, ‘But I give choice to people.’

‘I showed the Golden era of the Indian cinema to people.’

‘You have weathered. I am young and swanky.’

The conversation, full with satire and humour, continues.

At the end of the act, Sohail Khan, who was one of the judges of the show assures the ‘old theatre’ – ‘Your days are not numbered. You are not going to die.’

Sohail Khan said he watched the premiere of his movies only at Gaiety Cinema, a single screen theatre at Bandra, Mumbai.

‘It is only in a cinema hall that I get to know the reaction of the audience to my movies,’ said Sohail Khan.

Reaction to a typical Indian movie means clapping, applauding, hooting and whistling.

What did Sohail Khan mean?

Do people react only in the so-called single screen theatres and not in multiplex theatres? Has the audience in multiplex theatre become cultured or sober? Or more snobbish?

Abdul Hamid was my source of inspiration. Not the Indian soldier who died fighting Pakistani forces in the 1965 war but his namesake who was my elder brother's classmate.

I don't remember the exact year. It was 1983 or 84. I tagged along with my brother and Abdul to watch a movie in a neighbourhood cinema.

As Abdul stepped into the dark hall, he inserted the thumb and forefinger of his right hand in his mouth and let out a very sharp and loud whistle.

I was both shocked and impressed by his brazenness. He became my hero and I decided to master the art of whistling.

I started devoting hours to mastering the art. I dreamed that whenever I went to a cinema, I would also whistle.

But in any cultured family, whistling in public places is taboo. Hence, learning to whistle at home can invite dangers, especially if your mother believes only in corporal punishment.

In my home whistling was considered a weapon used by school and college dropouts and unemployed bums to tease girls and women in public places. Or a way of enjoyment for the 'uncultured' lot who occupied lower or rear stalls in cinemas whenever the vamp gyrated to a raunchy number or the hero bashed the villain.

Braving the dangers, I started working hard to become a skilled whistler. The early results were poor. But as the days passed, my perseverance paid off. The loudness and the sharpness of my whistles increased, as did my parents' admonitions. But I persisted and the final results were excellent.

But whenever I was in a cinema, I would get engrossed in the movie and would forget to whistle.

I watched the new or ‘dedicated’ version of Agneepath a couple of days back as I wanted to know if people react in multiplex theatres.

The Chikni Chameli song is in rage and I thought here was a song that would generate mega- whistling. I impatiently waited for the song.

Katrina looked stunning as she jerked and gyrated. But nobody whistled. I felt uncomfortable.

When the movie ended, I wanted to ask the young men coming out why they didn't whistle. But I kept my mouth shut.

Have audiences become cultured? No doubt, no man will dare to whistle with his girlfriend sitting beside him. But have guys stopped watching movies in groups? Have we lost the small joys and innocence of making a little mischief?

Blowing hot and cold

At times I feel like settling in a place that has mild climate throughout the year.

Winters are very cold, summers extremely hot and monsoons too wet in Kanpur.

The temperature starts dropping from the third week of December.

The New Year always begins on a chilly note.

The mercury level as if to tease hovers just above the freezing point, threatening to fall anytime.

If the low temperature is not enough, the fog adds to the woes.

My day goes haywire if I am forced to skip my morning walk.

I push my head out of the quilt in the morning and can see only fog outside my window. I curl up and once again go to sleep. I get up hours later and fume at myself.

I cannot move freely due to the fog.

I am forced to wear many sweaters. My movement is crippled.

A time comes when even rum fails to provide warmth.

The sun remains invisible for days.

The heater fails to work due to frequent power failures.

Summers are just the opposite and equally torturous.

The temperature starts rising in the middle of April. In the second or third week of May, it hangs just below the 50 degree Celsius mark and once again teases.

The blazing sun starts scorching the skin from early morning itself. Morning walks become irritating.

The land dries up. Grasses turn yellow and trees brown and leafless. Hot, dusty winds blow throughout the day. Everything becomes gritty.

The desert cooler or the ceiling fan becomes useless due to long power cuts.

After the hot months, nothing is more welcome than rains.

The dust settles. The air becomes cool. Grasses and tress become green.

But soon you find it is pouring incessantly. Roads get waterlogged.

You wait for the sun to shine brightly but get no respite.

But should I only curse the weather?

Is not the weather in north India enjoyable too?

I have fascination for Christmas as it is celebrated at the peak of winter. I find the idea of carol singing on cold nights thrilling.

One morning despite the extreme cold I went to the park early in the morning for a walk.

I saw a figure emerging out of the fog. He was an acquaintance.

“You are continuing with your walks even in this weather?” I asked.

He stopped and said, “People spend money and go hill stations to experience similar weather conditions. Why not enjoy here without spending money?”

Another morning, I decided to walk in my neighbourhood instead of the park. I could not see anything beyond 10-15 metres due to the fog.

Roads were deserted and shops yet to open.

A country liquor bar was open even at 7 am. I walked into the bar. It was steaming. An old man was washing the bar.

A person sitting on a table. His glass was beside him. He took a sip and sang –‘Dil ka bhanwar kare pukar, pyaar ka raag suno_ _ _ _’

The person was enjoying the weather. I realised Dev Anand is finally dead.

Winter is towards its end.

An old saying goes - if winter is here, spring can’t be far behind.

Dahlias, petunias and chrysanthemums are in full bloom in my house.

The winter rains have washed the dust. The sky is blue, the sunshine bright and the wind cool.

Once you are out in the sun, you can remove your sweater. You can lie down on the grass and doze off.

It is the time for celebrations. Basant Panchami, Valentine’s Day and Holi are near.

After Holi, the wind starts getting warmer and stronger. You can feel summer is approaching.

Summers are also pleasant. The days are hot but the nights cool.

You can lie on your terrace and watch the sky and stars till you fall asleep.

Monsoons follow the hot summer months. I get drenched in the first showers. It is my way of welcoming monsoons.

I go out in the veranda in the night for a smoke. The stillness of the wet night is disturbed only by croaking toads and chirping crickets.

========

Talking about seasons, most Bollywood poets have captured the magic of only one season – monsoons.

Gulzar has captured the shades of winter and summer in the song – ‘Dil dhoonta hai phir wahi, phursat ke raat din_ _ _ _ _’in the movie aptly named Mausam. Watch the song - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fE3umqKsnOM and enjoy.

A perfect song for an idler.

New Year and Doordarshan

Idler – ‘Don’t you think we should do something different this New Year’s Eve, sweetie?’

Mrs. Idler – ‘Please....for God’s sake. Today is December 31 and I don’t want to hear anything weird or funny.’

Idler – ‘We have been attending similar New Year parties year after year. Resort, club, pub or hotel – they all seem the same to me. Aren’t you bored? I want something unique this year.’

Mrs. Idler –‘Drink and start clowning around. That will be unique.’

Idler – ‘I am serious.’

Mrs. Idler –‘What’s your problem?’

Idler – ‘We go to a party, have drinks, get lost in the crowd, return home and sleep. Every year it is the same. I find it monotonous. I am bored’

Mrs. Idler – ‘What do you suggest? I am warning you – nothing out of the world or silly.’

Idler – ‘I want to celebrate in some quiet and cosy place, away from the crowd.’

Mrs. Idler – ‘Where will you find such a place?’

Idler – ‘Many of my friends will celebrate in their home. They are fed up with resorts and clubs. I feel times are changing.’

Mrs. Idler – ‘You think we should miss New Year’s party?’

Idler – ‘We can celebrate at home. We can light a bonfire. The house will become cosy.’

Mrs. Idler – ‘Stay back, drink, eat and sleep. That’s your idea of unique celebration?’

Idler – ‘Well.....we can..... watch TV. Doordarshan; to be precise.’

Mrs Idler – ‘Doordarshan? I had warned you.........’

Idler – ‘We eagerly waited for the New Year programmes of Doordarshan in the eighties. I recently saw the promo of this year’s programme. It featured Usha Uthup, Amit Kumar and some other singers I could not identify....’

Mrs. Idler – ‘Will you stop being nostalgic?’

Idler – ‘I grew up with Doordarshan. Aren’t you nostalgic about it?’

Mrs. Idler – ‘I am not as old as you are. I did not grow up in the eighties.’

Idler – ‘Why don’t you ask your father if he too is nostalgic about Doordarshan?

Mrs Idler – ‘Stop grumbling.’

Idler – ‘I was surprised to know Doordarshan still shows special programmes on New Year’s Eve. I want to see what type of programmes they show these days.’

Mrs. Idler – ‘Why are you talking about Doordarshan?’

Idler – ‘No particular reason, I was.....’

Mrs. Idler – ‘So you want to stay back and watch Doordarshan?’

Idler – ‘The special programmes in those would be a complete package of music, song and dance. And yes, humour would be the highlight. Do you remember the poker-faced humorist Sharma and his chaar laina?

Mrs. Idler – ‘I have never heard about him.’

Idler – ‘Surendra Sharma appeared on Doordarshan in a New Year’s programme and became a national celebrity overnight. That was the might of Doordarshan in those days.’

Mrs. Idler – ‘So have you made up your mind?’

Idler – ‘And then Jaspal Bhatti started appearing on New Year’s programmes. Can anybody today match his satire?’

Mrs. Idler – ‘If you like humour so much why can’t you stand the comedy shows being shown now.’

Idler – ‘Not only humour. It was Doordarshan that introduced Osibisa to the people of India through the New Year’s programme in 1982. You were not even born then.’

Mrs. Idler – ‘Will you stop idling away your time?’

Idler – ‘Those days were easy. On December 31 night, we would settle in front of the TV by 10 o’ clock. We would cover ourselves with shawls and blankets. It would be very cold outside but our room would be warm’

Mrs. Idler –‘Anything else?’

Idler –‘Sometimes, our neighbours who did not have TV would also join us. Our house would become more cosy and lively. We would wish one another at midnight......’

Mrs. Idler – ‘Stop this nonsense. You can watch Doordarshan. I will attend the party.’

Nostalgic with Ooh la la, ooh la la........

My father, if I happened to be around,would always switch channels whenever the song ‘Ooh la la, ooh la la’ came as promo for ‘The Dirty Picture.’ I am not sure whether he is a prude or did not want to watch the promo in my presence.

I started liking the song as I heard it repeatedly on television and radio. Initially I thought that the male singer was trying to imitate Bappi Lahiri. Later I realised Bappi Lahiri was the singer.

I have downloaded the song. Earlier I played it when my father was not at home. Now I play the song in high volume even when my father is around.

I recently read somewhere that people have a fascination for things which they see or hear while growing up. Very true. Perhaps this is the reason why I have started liking the song and play it even in my father’s presence.

Bappi Lahiri became the most sought-after music composer in themid-eighties – the decade in which I grew up.

Two actors reached the peak of their careers in the early eighties – Jeetendra with the success of Himmatwala and Mithun Chakraborty with Disco Dancer becoming a hit. Bappi Lahiri was the music composer of both movies.

As Jeetendra and Mithun Chakraborty became the top actors of Hindi cinema, Bappi Lahiri became the most sought-after music composer. The other prominent music composers like RD Burman and Laxmikant-Pyarelal had to take a back seat.

I remember the radio programme Chitralok of the mid-eighties. In promo after promo, Ameen Sayani in his typical voice would say ‘Bappee Lahiree kaa jhil..milaa... sangeet’ or ‘aur... is film ke sangeetkaar hain.... Bappee Lahiree.’

‘The Dirty Picture’ is set in the eighties. I am yet to see the movie. As far as the song ‘Ooh la la, ooh la la...’ is concerned, it has rightly captured the mood of the music of the eighties.

When you start liking the voice of the singer or the tune of a song; the lyrics or its meaning hardly matter; even if they are bawdy. For me, the song Ooh la la, ooh la la_ _ _ became a journey to my childhood.

On hearing Bappi Lahiri singing the first line of the second stanza of the song – ‘Gira ke apna pallu baar baar......’ and the violin in the background, I travelled back in time. I wish music composers Vishal-Shekhar had used real violins instead of the synthesiser.

Initially, I thought Bappi Lahiri has composed the tune. The song had the combined effect of the songs of Sharaabi, Disco Dancer and Dance Dance. Vishal-Shekhar have done a great job.

Evergreen 'The Guide' or the evergreen guide?

The year was 1987. I was in class eighth.

One afternoon I returned home from school and quickly changed my dress and had lunch. I took Rs 2.25 from my mother and along with a friend rushed to Majum, a cinema in the neighbourhood.

We intended to see the matinee show of a movie. We reached the cinema at 2 p.m. The show was to begin at 3 p.m.

There was a big crowd at the cinema. My friend and I joined the long queue in front of the ticket window.

‘The queue is long. The show will begin after an hour. We will get the tickets,’ I told my friend.

The person standing in front of me overheard my words, turned back and said, ‘The queue is for the tickets of the evening show; not for the matinee show.’

‘What? Tickets for the evening show?’ I cried in shock. ‘What about the tickets for the matinee show?’ I asked.

‘All sold,’ said the man.

My friend and I looked at each other. We did not have any option but to return home. We were students of class eighth; could not while away hours in a cinema; our parents were strict and strongly believed in corporal punishment. Dejected, we returned home.

We again tried on the following day but failed.

I was scared on the third day to seek permission from my mother. Somehow I gathered courage and pleaded with her to allow me to try for the last time. She relented.

I sprinted to the cinema in the afternoon and found the queue for tickets on the third day also long.

I joined the queue. I was exhausted by the time I reached the ticket window. I was squashed up in the queue, my hair had got dishevelled and dress crumpled. Still, I felt like a victor when I pushed my way through the crowd around the ticket window, holding high the tickets in my fist.

I finally watched the movie. The movie was Johnny Mera Naam.

Johnny Mera Naam ran for four weeks at Majum. All the shows ran full house. Many complained that they could not get the tickets and watch the movie.

Johnny Mera Naam was released in 1970. It ran full house shows even in 1987.

The world of Hindi movies saw many changes in the 17 years from 1970 to 1987.

The period saw the emergence of Rajesh Khanna as the superstar in the late sixties with the release of Aradhana.

By mid-seventies, Rajesh Khanna’s unchallenged stardom and popularity started falling with the rise of Amitabh Bachchan.

Amitabh Bachchan was the superstar of the early eighties as well. The decade also witnessed other stars reaching the peak of their career – Jeetendra with Himmatwala and Mithun Chakraborty with Pyar Jhukta Nahin, Disco Dancer and Dance Dance.

One thing remained intact in the 17 years - Dev Anand’s charm and charisma.

Today, no actor can imagine his or her movie will run full house shows 17 years after being released. No doubt, Dev Anand was known as an evergreen actor. But was Dev Anand evergreen or his movies?

Two years later, in 1989, another movie of Dev Anand, Sachche Ka Bol Bala was released. My brother, then 19, was eager to see the movie. Not for Dev Anand but for Jackie Shroff. He had become a great fan of Jackie Shroff.

My brother did not undergo the difficulties that I faced for getting the tickets for Johnny Mera Naam. He easily got the tickets for the ‘first day, first show’ of Sachche ka Bol Bala.

My brother was dejected when he returned home after watching the movie. ‘Jackie Shroff was hardly visible in the movie; the movie revolved around Dev Anand,’ he said. Dev Anand was also the director of Sachche Ka Bol Bala.

My brother was once a fan of Dev Anand. But he liked the young Dev Anand in his movies of the sixties and seventies and not the old Dev Anand in his movies of the eighties and nineties.

Being an idler, I have ample time to watch movies on television at home. I am waiting for the time when movie channels will repeatedly on television show Johnny Mera Naam, Jewel Thief and The Guide.

Are we living in Utopia?

‘You will remain a bumpkin,’ my elder brother told me.

He did not stop there. ‘The whole world is active on Facebook, except you,’ he said.

What he said was true. I have a Facebook account but am never active on it.

My brother is active on Facebook. He has over 1,000 friends on Facebook. I have only 26.

I was not in a mood to argue with my brother.

I was not an idler four or five years ago and did not have time spare when everybody was busy creating an account on Facebook. Today, I have time but I feel I am too old to be active on Facebook. I do not understand the essence of the site. I may have lagged behind but I do not have any regrets.

I believe in real socialising. My face lights up seeing a neighbour, an old classmate or an old friend in an unexpected place or time. I can chat with him or her for hours. I am yet to chat online with a friend or classmate settled thousands of miles away in Australia or Canada.

Also, I know many people who were once addicted to Facebook. Some are now bored. Some had to visit a psychiatrist and were advised not to log on to the website again.

Many of my friends are not active on Facebook but are successful in their profession and spend time talking to family members on returning home from office.

I log on to Facebook but only to peek into the lives of the women whom years back I knew as girls and who were dying to befriend me (Sorry - it was the other way round).

Logging on to Facebook, I feel that we are living in a utopian society. Your friends have only praises for you. No backbiting or bitching.

Recently, a friend uploaded a picture in which she is standing next to her grandmother (or maybe great grandmother).

The grandmother (or maybe great grandmother) looks like a resurrected mummy. Her Facebook friends are bewitched with the beauty of the grandmother (or maybe great grandmother) and have commented: ‘She looks so beautiful’ and, ‘Her smile's so enchanting.’

Another friend posted his son’s photographs. Looking at the son, you would have concluded that he can climb trees or poles with ease, likes fruits and if he ever visited your place, would leave it messy.

But the comments were – ‘So sweet!’ and ‘Looks like an angel.’

A close friend uploaded her photographs and was expecting me to comment. My comment would have been – ‘My God! When did you get the role of a witch in the latest Harry Potter movie?’ But I did not post a comment.

The posted comments, as usual, were full of praise – ‘Nice pics. Luking gr8’ and, ‘Y don’t u become a model?’

My friends have often asked me to post my photographs on Facebook. I will post my photographs. Before that I intend to join a gym so that I have muscles and a flat stomach like Sylvester Stallone.

But even if I share my photographs today I know what the first comment will be. It will be– ‘Luking damn sexy. Not changed a bit even in the last 15 yrs.’

P.S. A recent post of my brother on his Facebook account was: "The best way to have your friends get in touch with you is to get famous. For losers, there's always Facebook."

Have I foreseen my future?

Diwali Musings

Some incidents of our lives always remain fresh.

We smile, chuckle or guffaw thinking about the incidents even after decades.

This Diwali I will again think of some incidents related to the festival. Some incidents will make me laugh and some reflective.

For me, the funniest Diwali incident that took place around 30 years back is related to Uncle Kapoor. He was in his thirties when I saw him for the first time. His appearance was a cross between Amitabh Bachchan and a hippie.

Uncle Kapoor was tall and lanky like Amitabh Bachchan. He always wore a red shirt and black flared trousers. He would never tuck his shirt. Like a hippie, Uncle Kapoor had long hair up to his shoulders and a black, flowing beard.

Uncle Kapoor set up a kiosk in a corner of the playground in front of our house. He started with comics, kites and marbles. He later added bread, eggs and butter to his stocks in the shop. He also started selling pencils, pens, nibs, ink (we wrote with fountain pens in school), and notebooks.

Uncle Kapoor would also sell firecrackers during Diwali. Children would look at his firecrackers lustfully thinking he would be the happiest man on the earth bursting all his unsold fireworks on Diwali night. Uncle Kapoor would shoo away the children who would watch his stock of firecrackers but not buy.

Two types of firecrackers are popular during Diwali – one that produces a loud noise and another that produces light. The ones that produce a bang are colloquially called bombs.

One Diwali night, Uncle Kapoor decided to burst a bomb that was too big in size compared to other bombs. A group of children stood a some distance, watching his every action. He lighted the fuse, ran up to a safe distance and turned around to see the bomb exploding.

The flare lasted for a couple of seconds and then died out. He looked at the bomb. It seemed to have become useless. But Uncle Kapoor was not a person who could think of losing a bomb; even if it meant putting his body or ‘sensitive parts’ to risk.

After some time, he went towards the bomb. He crouched when he was close. He could not dare to pick the bomb. He kicked the bomb and it rolled on the ground.

The bomb did not explode and Uncle Kapoor became braver. He extended his hand, slowly lifted the bomb and held it at a safe distance. Nothing happened. He stood up and looked at the bomb. He saw the ash of the fuse on the bomb. He tried to dust the ash away with his hand. The ash got stuck to the bomb. He blew at the bomb to clean the ash little knowing that the part of the fuse inside the bomb was still glowing.

Uncle Kapoor’s blow acted as a catalyst. The bomb went off on his face. Uncle Kapoor stood motionless like a statue, unable to see or hear anything for at least two minutes.

==================

My father returned from a tour of West Germany just before Diwali in1985. He had brought back a lot of unspent Deutsche Marks and we became ‘moneyed’ for some days.

‘I am not going to listen to any of the excuses you gave last year while buying firecrackers. I want a lot of firecrackers this year,’ I told my father a couple of days before Diwali.

My father agreed.

We went to a firecracker stall and bought at least a dozen pieces of every firecracker available in the shop. The shopkeeper handed gave a bill of Rs. 83.

My brother and I kept on bursting firecrackers throughout the Diwali night but still our stock did not exhaust. My brother was too tired on the following night. I burst the remaining firecrackers and still much was left to last for another two days.

I developed an aversion for firecrackers.

Last year I went to a firecracker stall, picked up a fountain and asked the shopkeeper, ‘What’s the price?’

‘Rs 85, sir,’ replied the shopkeeper.

‘Rs. 85 for how many fountains- half - a-dozen or a dozen fountains? Not very costly, eh,’ I remarked.

‘Rs 85 apiece, sir,’ said the shopkeeper.

Times, no doubt, have changed.

=========================

A confectionary store that turned into firecracker stall before Diwali was our favourite place for buying firecrackers. My father found the confectionary store owner amiable and honest (I had doubts about the second quality of the confectionary store owner.).

I stopped accompanying my father for buying firecrackers as I grew up and did the Diwali shopping alone.

As children we would buy firecrackers at least a couple of days before Diwali. To remove dampness from the firecrackers, we would spread them out in the sun on the following days.

But with age, bursting firecrackers became a formality.

One Diwali evening I went to the confectionary store turned firecracker stall and found the amiable and honest man a little tipsy. Perhaps he had done a good business throughout the day, was tired and taken some rum in the evening.

I selected the firecrackers and he gave me a bill of Rs 310. I gave him Rs 500 note and was not able to count the money he returned due to the crowds there.

Back home I found that he had deducted only Rs 210 for the firecrackers. I decided to return the extra money on the following day. But for me, the following day never came.

Around three years back, by chance, the confectionary store owner’s beautiful niece became a good friend of mine. Three years is a long time but still we are – ‘just friends’. I dearly wish that the relationship should at least now move ahead.

I told the friend how I had unintentionally cheated her uncle. Light-heartedly, she replied, ‘You duped my uncle of Rs 100. Now return double the amount.’

I wanted to tell her that I can return 100 or even 1000 times the amount if that made her happy and she would consider advancing the relationship between us. But I was not able to say anything and still remain single.