Aamir - The non-JTYJN/ Ghajini one.

For those looking forward to watching Haal-e-Dil/ Thoda Pyar Thoda Magic, I suggest you stop reading this instant because there is more to Bollywood than flowery romances & size zeroes. The new in thing is off-beat cinema. Tell Aamir about it!

Yes, calling a movie ‘off-beat’ has become a cliché. Off-beat could mean Tashan. My condolences with all those who paid to watch it; but I digress. The off-beat I speak of blows my mind away, time & again. It’s more of a movement – to break away from the mainstream BS. From what I recollect, it started with Swades, gained strength with Rang De Basanti, amassed thousands with Lagey Raho Munnabhai & its only gaining strength. What has pleasantly surprised me yet again is a wonder mini-flick called Aamir.

An asthma-ailing, flustered Rajeev Khandelwal clinging on to a red suitcase; minimal, curt dialogues; vrooming of a dirt bike, ticking clocks as background scores and snippets of the Bombay most of us don’t get to see give the movie an eerie feel. Aamir could easily mark the genesis of a new genre in Hindi cinema. In fact, it carries forward what Being Cyrus had kicked off, in some ways.

Speaking of genre, the music is anything but the stereotypical commercial nautanki we are generally exposed to. Amit Trivedi does very well to bring in some quirkiness to the soundtrack. I’m a fan!

I must admit, to watch a K-serial heart-throb do so well on the big screen was a tad unexpected. Whoever knew Rajeev Khandelwal could act ‘and’ look good! Ergo (in case Rajeev is reading) –
‘Dear Rajeev,
To hell with shaadi-vivaah, ghar-parivaar dramas! You ought to be doing more movies. The 8 o’clock soap & Ekta Kapoor you walked out on was good riddance!’

The flick starts off in style. Initially, it seems to be going nowhere really. The momentum builds gradually. The punch is packed only towards the fag end – a crescendo of sorts. The lead of the movie calls it a ‘psychological thriller’. I cannot think of a better description without giving away the storyline!

If you haven’t watched it yet & do not idolize Mimoh Chakraborthy/ Rani Mukherjee as a fairy, please watch Aamir.

Cheers. Keedas. Peace.

The IPL hangover..

Not many missed this tourney & boy was it the instant coffee of modern day cricket! Ergo - the non alcoholic, caffeine hangover & I’m throwing up (figuratively of course) all over about it..

Mahi ve!
Young guns afire - the ‘boys’ of regional Indian cricket were some of the many ‘finds’ of the tournament & how! Swapnil Asnodkar, Virat Kohli, Gony & the likes are the new poster boys of Indian cricket. Non performers in the Indian squad, about time you scoot out!

The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen:
A slap in the face (not the ‘3 crore ka thappad’ type) to all those who opine Sachin, Sourav have lost their game & McGrath, Gilly, Warney oughtta play golf now. My heart goes out to Adam Gilchrist & Glen McGrath who play just like they did, maybe a tad better, back in 1996. Kudos!

Cricket clichés:
44 days of incessant cricket implies 44 days of non stop commentary & voilà – all the overused commentary lines are overexposed & for the keen listeners, like yours truly, to laugh at.
When asked about what the batsmen opening the 2nd innings ought to do:
“The boys must just go out there & play their natural game. They really need to hit the ball.”
(Hit the ball? Whoa hold on a sec! That’s a bit of rocket science for the average batsman)
Ravi Shastri at the post match presentation. At *every* post match presentation:
“What a game!”
(Love you Ravi. But really, you need a new opening line)

Crouching tiger, hidden Watson!
Marshy & Watson were easily the firecrackers to the celebration. Who knew an Australian could do Punjabis any good!? Unheard of a couple of months ago & quite the steal at the IPL auction (in hindsight), these fellas were worth every Rupee spent on them & are here to stay! Paisa vasool, I say!

Mera Billy mujhse meow..
Rheumatoid arthritis gave him his crooked-finger action – one that has spelt doom for many a batsman. But no arthritis was going to pull this man down – who has earned accolades for his unmatched style & for the zing he has brought to his otherwise banal profession. Billy Bowden sure lived up to his ‘showman’ tag & inspired Koertzen too! I *heart* Billy!

Hussey toh phasi!
It was like playing gully cricket with men from The Oz, really. Aussies just rushed in from all sides into this tourney. History was created when Symonds was embraced by the people of Hyderabad, welcomed with biryani & when Warney was cheered for in the stands of Wankhede, not Dhoni & when Gilly probably lost so many matches he might not have lost in his entire career. No monkey business, this Aussie influx! How about Warne as the new Indian team coach, eh?

Amongst other samachaar were the most expensive trophy – ever & also the goris cheering et al. Yawn. No prizes for guessing that the cheerleaders did not manage to ‘spread the cheer’ all the way to the desi babus who’d organise hartaals at the drop of a hat.

The nerve wrecking final had my head in splits the next morning & did not help the manic-Monday situation. Bah.. Who is complaining? I’d love to do it all, all over again. Next year.