Encounters of the non-veg kind.

Being born in a Vaishnav Brahman family from Narayan Peth Pune, next of the kin to much-maligned Puneri Sadashiv Peth Brahman tribe, even words like 'meat, fish, chicken' were aeons away, forget about getting near the actual thing. Devouring them was actually considered the sin of the severest kind. Those who 'Ate' were looked down upon, and were treated as if they were from a lower stratum and it was made unashamedly apparent by kinking the noses. Somewhere down the line animosity started diluting over the years, at least in my family, maybe my father was instrumental in doing so. He was sort of rebel in the generation which was neck-deep in the rituals of religion. He was atheist in the '40s ! Eggs were the first to enter the kitchen from the back door. Initially boiled only. But to dispose of the shells was a task by itself. Wrapping them in layers of papers before throwing them in the common dustbin was a work of great skill and art! Omelet was strictly no no as it gave away the secret by emanating the smell 'THE' smell. It too was overcome and then started the real encounters of Non-veg kind!
Actual conversion from staunch veg to non-veg came much later. Almost like a baptism into a new religion. It was literally adventure tinged with curiosity about the forbidden sin. Don't remember exactly when I tasted the real non-veg for the first time, but definitely remember what it was.  Prons. The prons. Don't know whether they were cleaned properly or not but my guts went into overdrive after consuming them, even though a small morsel and the results were disastrous, to say the least!
But after dealing with the first encounter like a victor, it then was a limitless voyage into unforeseen territories, conquering every port on the way. Chicken is the easiest port to win for the beginners. It comes under the section fowl and we had bizarre fowl in Malaysia. Just opposite the condo where we stayed in Lang Kawi, there was this small shanty like food stall which served authentic Malaysian food. Never fond of hackneyed and bland 5-star fare, we always preferred such joints when on vacation, to have the real flavour of the place. He served a bird named Piyu, not bigger than an outstretched palm, coated with some batter and deep-fried in its natural pose, that is, wings spread out, legs in their place with claws daringly open, neck stretched and beak in its place on the intact head! We wanted to try it but the valour fell short for 3 days, in succession. On the day to leave we gathered all our wits and ordered 'Fried Piyu'. Well, it was definitely not a disaster but not a great shake either, it's flesh was sweetish but tough to chew. All in all 'THE' adventure went insipid like a toothless tiger!
Red meat comes as lamb, pork, beef, veal and mutton as we Indians call it, and the ways to cook it differ so much that it may make you like or dislike it, on how it is done. Once on a flight, I was served beef unknowingly as the stock of chicken got over and because the flight was longish, more than 9 to 10 hours at a stretch, I had to make with it. It turned out to be rare done! Harder, I tried to chew it, slimier it became and then it was rolling in my mouth just like a rubber ball most undercooked! I had to gulp it down with glassful of water. It made me vow, No 'Rare done' again! But 'Gulati Kababs' served in restaurant 'Jaffran' are so delicious that they just melt in your mouth making you forget that it's red meat, always tough one to chew and swallow!  
Seafood from crabs to squid to different fishes was difficult fort to win to start with, mostly because of the smell. But in a short, while I started doling out opinions with elan like a seasoned gourmet describing pluses and minuses to the last detail.
I don't understand why Indians like bones? World over, meat or fish is always served boneless. So stringent is the dictum that if you find even a small fishbone in a fine dining dish, the chef loses his job! And really to take out the small bones in a fish-like 'Karli' is so cumbersome that it's better not to eat it!
Had heard about 'Sushi' and 'Sasha-mi' so many times that I was just longing to taste these Japanese varieties of non-veg delicacies. Abroad they are categorized as fine dining so are extremely expensive. The dilemma was that if you don't like it, a handful of dollars were going to be a waste. And Emi came to my help, Japanese wife of my school chum Girish who stays in Canada.
A ball of Rice cooked in vinegar is rolled in a seaweed paper along with either raw or cooked fish, meat, crab or anything that you fancy, dip it in wasabi or any other sauce you like and relish the concoction. Unfortunately, the very first morsel that came to my share contained partially cooked head of prons! Neither I could gulp it down as I could not look the prons into its staring eyes, nor could I throw it away for fear of insulting Emi, as I only had asked to serve it specifically. And in difficult situations, it's said that God helps you. Here my daughter turned out to be that God. ' Give it to me Baba' and that prons with prominent eyes staring at me, quickly vanished into her little mouth and I heaved a sigh of relief!
I should have learnt a lesson. But history teaches you a damn.  In all South-East Asian countries,  they serve you a dish of fish that you select live, from the water tank to be absolutely fresh. While on a tour of either Thailand or Malaysia we decided to try it out. It was so fresh that, only devoid of viscera it was practically, entirely intact with its fins, tail and even the eyes in their place!
I nudged my daughter and said,
' Saana , it just winked !'
'Come on Baba, how can it ?'
' I swear, it winked, look, his eyes are so bright.'
'Whatever, we all are going to feast on it, if you too want to, go ahead or close your eyes and ignore his !'
I did the same and to tell you the truth it was awesome!

Joy of small things

After a certain age, life becomes a sort of uneventful. You keep on living from the previous page. It flows like a placid river, calm and serene, you are contented and happy from within yet there is something that you miss but you can not pinpoint. No eddies, no cascades, no rapids.No, not out of cynicism, not out of boredom, it's just deja vu getting repeated again and again. Nothing surprises you and then you get it, what your life now lacks is 'WOW' factor. I too was passing through the same phase and then I suddenly realized it may not be so, life still holds something mysterious away from you, that when it comes in front of you, it just pounces on you leaving you really spellbound and let me tell you, yet it may not be something magnanimous, or profound, it may be a simple act that you might have forgotten years ago which surprises you newly. 

I had heard about Makar Sankranti being a huge festival in Gujrat, but it would be this big was news to me. Though I had visited Baroda, now Vadodara, many times since childhood, never had an occasion to pay a visit during Makar Sankranti. Though my nephew and nieces had invited me umpteen number of times, it was to happen only when my son and daughter in law forced me to accompany them to visit their aunt, my sister.

And the joy of small thing like flying a kite became so huge that it really overwhelmed me. My brother in law had purchased kites of different hues and colours in dozens. 'Manja', special thread to fly the kite too was brought in the length of miles, really miles. Funds being meagre in my childhood I had to play with a single kite at a time with a small bundle of thread. And if it was cut, with a face as small as sparrow I used to climb down the terrace with a heavy heart. So the sheer magnitude of the things played the first part.

On 14th and 15th, January entire Baroda was at standstill [ on roads ] including emergency services of Doctors, because everybody from kids in 5s to grandmas in 80s was on the terraces. Initially, there were few enthus, with stray kites riding the skies here and there. By late afternoon there were so many kites in the sky, that to say it was overcast, would have been an understatement. Hundreds in our area alone and maybe in thousands, if you consider the adjoining areas. Different colours, sizes, shapes of kites in the sky accompanied by loud hoos and haas from every terrace. As such Gujratis are always known for 'Eat and enjoy', lavish spreads were laid out on every terrace and with mouths full with 'Fafdas or Gathias' all the Gujju bhais and bens were flying the kites with full gusto.

I too tried my hand at it, after a long long gap of,  maybe  50/55 years and surprisingly my kite rode the skies like a chariot on winds! Within no time I could master whatever little skills of flying the kite in my own way. And the joy of that small thing was stupendous! Really exhilarating, almost liberating me from the monotony.  I could cut one or two kites in my own right and after 'doing it'  prancing like a child at the age of 63 was nothing but a feather in the cap of enjoyment. My daughter in law was on the floors laughing seeing the antiques of her pa in law! 

My bro in law kept us reassuring that more is yet to come. By dusk, there would be 'Gubbarays' and that sight would be worth a life to watch! I was unsure about how the balloons in the sky would be a sight to watch. After a short wait, 1st one appeared on the horizon and yes it was a sight to watch! It turned out that in Gujrati 'Gubbarays' are not rubber balloons as the thought would go, but are Chinese paper lanterns with a bright flame lit in it. Within half an hour or so there were thousands and thousands of lanterns floating on the sky like chandeliers swaying with the whiff of a breeze. Mesmerized would be a small word. The entire sky was lit with a thousand tiny dots of fire that swayed us without bounds. Mouths gaped, eyes widened and again I was reminded that there can be 'WOW' factor at any juncture in your life, just be open to embrace it!

What next ?

I am perpetually afraid of the question"what next?" I might have completed reading the nth book. just returned from the holidays those were always overdue, came out of the cinema hall watching the movie that I longed to view for aeons. and the question? ! so I have seen all, done all, at least the feeling is there, what next! Is it to do something with 'being'? I exist, so I exist! And I exist, so I have to do it all, all the time. After reading umpteen books did my 'being' got more mature, more experienced, more profound? I don't have answers. After seeing a thousand movies, visiting many countries did my horizons widen? I don't know. And if they really widen. what's the limit for widening? What's the motive behind zest, rather motivation itself? I don't know, probably utter confusion may be the limit. I am not philosopher, trying to put my feet in Buddha's shoes, nor I am pretender like Mahesh Bhatt who has all the answers for everything under the sun. But what are the 'achievements' themselves? what are my gains for 'being'? I call myself a man of science but I won't be able to tell, who was the Nobel laureate in Medicines for last year. But I can enumerate 'n' no. of Gandhis, including Rahul !!!. Who is more achiever? A Gandhi or a Nobel prize winner? Am I going to leave imprints of my being on time? If the answer is no, the whole rhetoric seems futile. No, I am not depressed nor going to stop living the next moment nor longing for early death, but many a time I wonder what's the propriety?

10 crore collection in 3 days : Hip Hip Hurrey

नट सम्राटने  १० कोटींचा गल्ला ३ दिवसात जमा केल्याची बातमी ऐकून संमिश्र विचार मनात आले . मराठी प्रेक्षक अजूनही तसाच भावूक आहे अस प्रत्कार्षाने वाटलेलं.  तस पाहिलं तर नट सम्राट ही  शेक्सपियरच्या  ' किंग लिअर ' वर बेतलेली पहिली कलाकृती नाहीये . जगातल्या कितीतरी भाषात त्यावर अगणित कलाप्रकार बेतले गेले आहेत , आपल्याकडेच मराठीत राजा परांजपे आणि सुमती गुप्त्यांचा 'उन पाउस' वा मोहन जोशी सुहास जोशी द्वयीचा 'तू तिथे मी ' किंवा हिंदीत ' बागबान' वा संजिवकुमार माला सिन्हा जोडीचा ' जिंदगी ' येऊन धो धो चालून गेलेले आहेत . मग नट सम्राट चच मराठी मनावर एव्हढ गारुड का ?

त्याच सगळ श्रेय कै . मा . वि वा शिरवाडकरानांच जात . त्यांनी मराठी मनाची  नाळ अचूकपणे जोखलेली होती. घडलेली हीच कथा शिक्षकाच्या वा कारकुनाच्या घरात दाखवली असती तर मराठी   मनाला ती तितकीशी  भावली नसती . मराठी मनाच  नाटक वेड  लक्षात घेऊन त्यांनी हे नाटक नाटकाच्या दरबारात पर्यायाने नट  सम्राटाच्या घरात नेल्याने त्याला जी मिती लाभली ती larger than life झाली आणि तिला भाऊक मराठी प्रेक्षक भुलला नसता तरच नवल . पल्लेदार वाक्य अति अलंकारिक भाषा लांबच लांब स्वगत मधून मधून भरलेले टिपिकल मराठी philosophy चे डोस मराठी मनाला खूप हवे हवेसे वाटतात आणि योग्य प्रमाणात ते दिले कि तो महा खुश होतो. नाटकाच्या बाबतीत ते घडलंच घडलं आता ते सिनेमाच्या बाबतीतही घडतंय . त्यात नाना पाटेकर नट सम्राट मग काय विचारता ? नाटकीय अभिनयात नानांचा हात धरणारा आज तरी डोळ्यासमोर कोणी नाही आणि नट सम्राट सारखं कुरण मिळाल्यावर नाना सुटले नसते तरच नवल . नाटक म्हटल्यावर संयत अभिनयाची अपेक्षाच नसते तिथलं सगळच भव्य दिव्य .  त्यामुळे नेहेमीचे संवाद बोलताना नाटकीय ढंगात फेकले तरी मराठी  माय बाप प्रेक्षक ते कानात भरभरून घेतो आणि त्यालाच  अभिनय समजतो बापडा . मराठी सिनेमान १० कोटी जमविले ह्याचा आनंद नक्कीच आहे पण … पण हा पण मोठा वाईट आहे

Nat Samrat The movie: Through my lenses.

'Marathi Manoos' from the  theater is inseparable. It's part of his being. So an era was there, around the turn of last century that mesmerized him over the years, with its innumerable offerings. Not that Marathi Manoos has stopped loving the theater now, but over the years, it has metamorphosed so much that in today's times it seems, that the memories of the golden era are blurred but still holding on with its gilt and glamour, albeit  from a distance. So has become its contents and acting styles. Stale? Old ? No, I don't have the correct word, but may be 'Too theatrical ' would be nearer the apt.

My son saw film Nat Samrat earlier and came telling me, 'Its' Marathi version  of Baghbaan'. Was I nonplussed , yes for a moment but after giving it a thought for a minute, I felt it was right for his generation who had never seen Nat Samarat, the play and in all eventuality both the pieces of work were based on Shakespeare's 'King Lear'.

Late Mr V V Shirwadkar, a master craftsman in his own right,  probably had his fingers firmly on the pulse of Marathi Manoos so he gave THE Marathi Garb to this universal tragedy  on theatrical background , a weak point for all the Marathis. By doing so  not only he did justice to the original theme but also left ample scope for Soliloquies, Dramatic duels,crisp dialogues, as if dancing to the sharpness of steel sword, ornamental language, larger than life characters, layers after layers of human relationships unfolded languidly for a common Marathi theater lover who was always gullible for such theatrics. And it worked. Worked so wonderfully that even by creative standards Nat Samrat the play became legend in its own right. More over the performances by the lead pair then, Dr Shriram Lagoo and Late Shanta Jog, took it to such a high pedestal that it had become too risky for any body to venture any where near it. It had become that iconic.

Naturally when Mahesh Manjrekar and Nana Patekar duo announced to adopt it for the screen, it became imperative to keep the fingers crossed. 

And from here onward my dilemma started , as usual.

Cinema has laxity of space, play is confined to 3 walls of stage, the 4th one is open to the viewers. So Nat Samrat the movie takes you on a beautiful ride.The story is, as every body knows and there are not many cinematic liberties taken. Script remains loyal to the play, well mostly. By doing so at least for a while it takes you away from the theater, but does it leave the theater completely? sadly no. May be because the protagonist is a renowned theater artiste, the directer could not do away with the theatrical format. Every scene, every performance every dialogue delivered, is over the pitch. 

Nana is known for theatrical deliverance , here he gets an open pasture. And given such an opportunity, for Nana there are no holds barred. In every frame you feel ' Oh what a marvelous acting' nonetheless you keep on feeling it's 'ACTING' after all in the end. Superficial ? Put on?  Being a theater artiste, or any performer for that matter, is his own persona too  overshadowed by theatrical mannerism in real life when not on stage ? May be, possible because as an artiste the line between the real and the theater may be blurred. So you are moved not by his performance but by the original script  that has the strength to move you from within. May be Nana himself too got engulfed in the dilemma, the protagonist faces, 'So many characters came alive using my body but in the end who [nobody] bothers about the soul of an actor that makes them alive'. Could Nana be separated from the role he played ?

I have seen Dr.Lagoo from close quarters in a well known play 'Atmakatha'. He really used to seep in to character so effortlessly when the focus used to be on him that it was  amply apparent who was Dr.Lagoo and who was the character. In Nat Samrat, you get an over dose of 'THE' Nana Patekar with all his  histrionics, may be he will get away with it, because the role [ of a theater actor]  demands it.

All in all again, the same dilemma, where to put this Nat Samrat ? The Nat Samrat in itself is so iconic that as an experience in different format too, it just can not be bad. But otherwise , may be nostalgia is always sweet so I would always vote for Nat Samrat THE play by Dr. Lagoo !

Nana Patekar

Vishwanath Dinkar Patekar aka Nana Patekar is almost my contemporary in age. Hardly a difference of 1 or 2 in years. I don't know him personally at all, forget about being a friend or one from his inner circle. Neither I am his fan nor follower. But somewhere along we probably bond, don't know of what kind. 

It so happened that my brother shifted abroad and our mother came to stay with us. Along with her, came our ancestral Ganapati, a tradition running in the family for more than a century. I started bringing Ganapati home for her. After her demise around 10 to 13 years ago, I brought my children together and asked them whether to continue the tradition or not, as I myself was not very keen to continue the tradition for so many reasons, her not being around being one of them. My being non-believer, atheist being last. Both chorused unanimously 'No' and the tradition continued.

Years after, one day my elder one jumped out of the seat shouting 'Baba come immediately, see what he is saying'. He was watching Nana Patekar's interview being conducted on a Marathi channel and Nana was echoing exactly the same about bringing Ganapati what I had said years ago. I just chuckled and left at that.
But it was to be repeated. I once was reading an article on Nana and again got a jolt. He turned out to be the only one from the filmy fraternity to openly put the onus on Sanjay Dutt's shoulders for his own misendevour. I had always felt that Sanjay got away, to be absolutely frank, with minuscule of sentence for his crime which practically amounted to sedition. And I simply abhorred the reaction from his filmy near and dear ones who are dying to cast him in their next ventures as soon as he is released from the jail. Nana is the only one who has said that 'He is not going to work with Sanjay in future'.
But my bonding with Nana ends at these points only.
His ruffian street smart image, stories being circulated about his brash behaviour [ showing pistol to the fellow driver on the highway in a road fracas], his generosity, his extremely volatile but emotional nature, jarred at least to me. I always felt that it's a facade carefully cultivated to nurture the image. A ruffian with a heart of gold. And it did not stop there, it seeped in the characters on the screen too. All those roles where he was presented as a good Samaritan but with extremely loud and grotesque mannerisms became widely popular. Almost amounting to a schizophrenic like what Jack Nicholson does on the Hollywood scene.
When any Tom Dick Harry from the obscure street opera starts mimicking you, you come down as an actor, I have said before. Stylized acting is NO acting. And we had Nana repeating it in film after film. And so, now we see dime a dozen Nanas everywhere, in all orchestras, mimicry shows on TV and whatnot. And so I become always sceptical when he tries something new. I was when he came out with Dr Praksh Baba Amte. Though he was superlative in most of the film, that ruffian Nana surfaced in instances where it was not called for.
And I am now bothered about Nat Samrat. Dr Lagu has taken the role to such a height that it is probably impossible for anybody to break that bar. Mainly Dr Lagu's Nat Samrat was soft, caring, gentle and sensitive, all the characters that are miles away from what Nana has projected in the past so far. In real life too? Don't know, because, to come it out on your face, in your body language, it has to be there in you in somewhere. Or is it what acting is all about To project what you are not. Nana?
I really don't know where to put Nana in this category. For years together he has been doing exemplary work without even the whispering grass from the mythological stories knowing about it. How much he might have donated only 'he' knows. By he, I mean God because Nana knows only to give. Only lately his philanthropic work is seeing the pages of the newspaper. Is it catharsis or real Nana surfacing at last? Then what about those stories of his volatile explosions, rough and brash outbursts?
Whatever! A big big whatever !! I am going to watch Nat Samrat for many many reasons. I have to, it being. Mr V V Shirwadkar's masterpiece offering is the one to start with, but Nana donating his part of the income from the movie, to the drought-stricken farmers of Maharashtra will top them all!