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!

Most Lacking sense: No not common: Civic !

1.30 AM in the thick of night. As I am a light sleeper, was struggling to keep the mind quiet to get into slumber. And the mobile rang. Blurted out ringtone assigned for hospitals. Admission! Got out of the bed sleepily, rode the car, by the time I reached the hospital I was fully awake. Middle-aged female in around late 30s to early 40s had come with fever of 102 *F, not really warranting to get admitted at that unearthly hours. But darkness is such an entity that many get anxious and run to the hospitals even for the minor ailments. So that was understandable. After carefully examining her, got to know that it was a short febrile illness of only 6 to 8 hrs and so, maybe, did not have any definite clinical signs to clinch the diagnosis. As a normal routine, I asked for certain investigations, of course, to be done in the morning, to rule out frequent Mumbai maladies like Malaria, Dengue, Typhoid etc, prescribed her only antipyretics as it should be and left for home at around 2.30 AM. 

Next day while making the rounds, asked the sister/ nurse assisting, for the investigations, only the urgent ones like Malaria and Dengue, so as to chart out the further course of action, but to my surprise, they were not ready. The reason being, the patient refused to get them done. I, most of the time lose my cool in such situations but here, was successful in keeping calm. Simply asked the sister to send her home against medical advice.

When a patient is admitted under a doctor to get treated he/she must have implicit faith in him/her, it's a mutual bond, a service contract. Breach in such a contract is simply not done. I had to give her piece of my mind, so very calmly I said to her,

" You might not be a school graduate even, but by refusing to go by my orders you are insulting me, a double post graduate in Medicine, who has put more than 45 years in the field to master the craft, toiled extremely hard to get through toughest exams,  and have been practising for more than 35 years as a consultant relentlessly, with the head always held high because I refused to go along with the current. I have worked as a professor of Medicine in a prestigious institute and so I don't want patients who are going to doubt the very fundamentals. You, you all, dole out whatever money a TV mechanic asks you for, though he is a 12th pass who has done some certificate course and has learnt on your TV. I too have to listen to my car mechanic who in the normal course of action does not have any official training in Automobile engineering but has learned the tricks of the trade by doing apprenticeship under a senior, similarly self-taught personnel! You better go home, before it becomes ugly.'

This incidence is the tip of the iceberg. My profession is dealing with such and more awkward situations day in and day out. My question is "Who is going to put sense in their heads and when ?"

And this is not restricted to my field alone. On roads, in public offices, in banks, in schools, even on airports what we Indians lack singularly, is civic sense. Our roads are littered beyond endurable limits, our public transport is simply abused beyond tolerance. Banks and government offices are overcrowded, clients just flocking around every table without any discipline whatsoever, so the officers are just, either plain lazy or simply incompetent but... but do not forget their arrogance. Roads are blocked with errant drivers zigzagging as if it is Formula 1 tract, Traffic courtesy, allowing the one to go first who is on the right side of the rules, is simply unheard of. Traffic signals are only for decoration and mental satisfaction, to override them is heroism perfected to the last 'T'. 

Right from day to day life to politics to education to transport We Indians are in such a hurry to break the rules that I don't understand why make them in the first place.

I feel like coining a slogan for morcha, ' Down with Civic sense! We don't have it, we don't require it !'

Bajirao Mastani continued

History, in my opinion, is totally irrelevant. What is relevant is the presence, because our future depends on how we shape it today. History does not teach us, any damn thing. I have seen many people committing the same mistake, including myself, again and again in personal life without learning from past experiences. And if it would have taught us anything on Global level, so many wars just wouldn't have been fought. 'History is always written by the victor' that's how the saying goes, yes, absolutely true but it conveniently omits the fact that the chronicler who writes it, is extremely biased. And the historian who studies it takes the cake away with interpreting it as his masters tell him to do! So far so good for the Maratha history too.

Bajirao was warrior par excellence. He won all the battles he fought in his short life span of 20 years as the warrior. But apart from his warrior side, how he was as a human being, as a son, as a husband, as a lover, there is a vast territory to explore. Any person whatever he may be, can not be the one, which we want him to be, 24 * 7. Thus it applies to Bajirao too. Many Marathi Historians have accepted, maybe grudgingly, Mastani's role in Bajirao's life, but wants him to be depicted only as a warrior, like Mr Jayant Salgaonkar who has totally blacked out Mastani from his book on Bajirao, while noted novelist, who wrote many many bestsellers, but very nicely written novels [Best sellers may not be necessarily good novels. ,Read Shobha De], based on history, Mr N S Inamdar, on whose novel 'Rau' Bajirao Mastani is loosely based, gives more credence to Mastani as Bajirao's lover whom he gave the status of the second wife. He too wrote it, after much deliberation going through the history meticulously. Whom to believe?  

The story after interval loses it's Marathi flavour and starts resembling any other love story from anywhere in the world. And I started losing interest. Call me parochial but that's the way it is. The grandeur is replaced by petty politicking, vacuous pride and blind faith in religion. All that Bajirao abhorred and stood against stoically. Again maybe, that was plus point for the script but laden with cliches, like an assault on Mastani and Kashibai saving her, Pune Brahmans refusing to share meals with Peshwa!

I feel Mr Bhansali has done justice to whatever was laid in front of him on most of the fronts, barring at places about Bajirao's characterization. There is a flood of information on Bajirao now. Taking in to account all that, it never seems possible, even probable that he would dance, a victory dance, in Salman fashion to the words, 'Waat Lavali' in a lingo definitely not used then, the lingo of Paral Lalbag lads in the 20th century. [ Taking too much of creative liberty ] It was superbly done by Mr Gowarikar for Akbar, going in a trance in Sufi recital, taking into consideration the dancing prowess of Hritik Roshan.[ Art with a market in mind]. Ranveer too flaws at many places failing to understand the nuances of Bajirao's persona. Yes, Bajirao used to consume alcohol and devour meat but his drunken stupor enacted by Ranveer nears today's drunken heroes, not with that grace of a warrior or befitting a Peshwa. 

True scene stealers are definitely Deepika and Priyanka. Priyanka excels because the role is tailor-made for any Indian heroine and we Indians always like the underdogs. Deepika as Mastani is an excellent choice. She radiates that beauty on many instances for which Mastani is/was known for. Not only she goes through the war scenes with ease, but she enacts love scenes with Bajirao or emotional ones with others with elan! Tanvi Azmi. Another excellent choice. With just a waive of hand on many occasions, she rejects the very presence of Mastani in Bajirao's life, is worth to watch for. Milind Soman as Amatya and Vaibhav Tatwawadi as Chimaji Appa too linger on your mind for long.

As expected 'Pinga' dance doesn't have anything objectionable. It's 'all women dance' performed on 'Haldi Kunku' ceremony. Womenfolk letting their hair loose on such occasions was a known thing and such functions were arranged for the very purpose, as the women then did not have any vent.     

All in all, as usual, I am confused. Yes, for a Bollywood it's a milestone. Going away from typical Punjabi ethos and for the first time bringing Maratha History to the fore, is definitely praiseworthy. Definitely, a well-mounted film with above-average to excellent performances, extremely soothing to the eyes photography, every frame is a picture postcard, and all the masala for average filmgoer and not so much a deviation from history or perverting the history to the hideous level for Marathis, it's definitely a film to watch at least once!

Bajirao Mastani

.... And I saw it. In Pune itself, but not where it was fiercely opposed, the citadel of Chitpawan Brahmans, Kothrud, but far away in non-Marathi Pune, Amanora. Brought up as Puneri Brahman, definitely not in a staunch fashion, I should have refrained myself from even nearing the cinema halls where it was exhibited. But the better sense instilled by that non-staunch part prevailed and I decided to join the brigade, either one, only after watching the movie. And here I am, not knowing which brigade to join!

Bored to the hilt after watching countless mundane Bollywood movies heralded by dozen or so, 'Punjab da Putters', here was one, off the track, having great potential to take the flag of Maratha pride beyond the seven seas, as for one taking immense pride in being Marathi Brahman [ Why Not ?!] it was the boon, I was apprehensive though, nonetheless looking forward to its release. As expected it met with brickbats from those who were definitely weak in history but proclaimed themselves to be zealots of Marathi culture, without really watching the movie. It had to die down naturally but real jolt came from Mr Bhansali himself, throwing his towel in, at the outset only. The 1st frame of the movie blatantly declares that 'It's a work of fiction and I have taken many liberties for creative en-devour, but not to offend any body's sensibilities [ right or wrong ],[ Who is bothered anyway, not me at least !]  ' as if deflating the hyper-inflated balloon in the beginning before it sees the skies.

It gave me goose pimples when Ranveer Singh attired in heavy metal helmet and armour to match, riding effortlessly on the horse, shouted 'Har Har Mahadev' attacking the enemy in the opening frame. 'That's it, it's going to deliver' was my first instinct. Every frame that ensued went on as if in crescendo till the interval. Marathi culture at its epitome was picturized beautifully. The battlefields came alive on a mammoth scale, maybe on par with any historical from the west. Men wearing circular headgears so typical of that era, over their shaved pates leaving a tuft of hair at the back in the centre, looking every inch regal and staunch at the same time, including light-eyed Aditya Pancholi. Milind Soman didn't have to try hard, he himself being one, chitpawan Brahman. Ladies draped in elegant nine-yard sarees, with hairstyles to match with golden flowers put in their hair, told that research at least some, must have gone in, to create an ambience of a bygone era. Priyanka Copra as Kashibai just glided in the frame, like a blast of fresh air, so came the royal pride as Tanvi Azmi with her bald pate and stern face.
The forts, palaces and citadels of Maratha empire, whether they were in Pune, in Satara or elsewhere, definitely gave an idea of how the architecture was then.  Visits to  Shaniwar Wada relics umpteen times in childhood always brought that feeling of emptiness. 'How would have it looked in its prime time?', was always a thought to ponder.  And I was grateful to Mr Bhansali that he made it real, for me at least.  It being shadowed by Rajasthani Architecture, in my view is rubbish. Interiors of all the palaces are awe-inspiring whether it is Satara's palace, HH Shahu Maharaja's court or Ganesh Mahal of Shaniwar Wada. But the seeds of doubts started getting sowed somewhere on the way. Shaniwar Wada having Sheesh Mahal on the styles of 'Mughal - E- Azam'? And Mastani dancing like  'La Madhubala'? Maybe unfathomable. May be creative liberty. The way you take it, after all, it's not a historical piece. But the feeling of uneasiness started getting repeated. 

Entries of all the main characters are so dramatic that at times they are either unreal or cliche. The unfurling of Mastani's tassel is no doubt dramatic but definitely cliche as it was mostly predictable and has been done away with, in many a movie in the past.
Does script do justice with history, Bajirao, Mastani or Kashibai? So many questions !!

More to follow......

Alma Mater

If you remove C from BJMC Pune the history of institute goes back to 19th century, 1871 to be precise. Started as BJ Medical school with a generous donation from Jeejibhoy family Became college in 1946 and I am one of the fortunate to have passed out from this motherly institute.
The scenario in 1970 was totally different than what it is today. Pune university as such catered colleges, so many, right from Khandesh to Ratnagiri and from Thane to Ahmednagar, that it was practically overcrowded. So city like Mumbai had 4 colleges only for her students while Pune had to bear the load of rest of Western Maharashtra including part of Southern Maharashtra, as 80 seats were reserved for Shivaji University.  Injustice? whom to blame?
When I entered the premises, many faces I saw were really should not have been there in the 1st place, at least in my opinion, because merit was the thing I had in mind. To my shock, which was rude, to say the least, for the first time in my life I got to know about a parallel system like reservation quota. Though coming from elite Brahmani school, such taboos were never taught, nor practised and we were never made aware of such things. Absolutely cohesive camaraderie. Well below the cut off percentage for open category, this lot definitely studied hard but always fumbled in viva for want of fluency in spoken English, maybe examiners too knew where they came from, it was a small world then, so used to help them in clearing the exams.  And thus through the same system, many enrolled even for PG courses.
Today many of them, gracefully retired, mostly from Government services rub shoulders with the elites without any prejudice whatsoever, of course, it should not be there, but it seems to be laced with covert arrogance, making it amply clear by utterances, behaviours, and body language. If a co-student from open category happened to be subordinate in Government service it became more apparent, or it seemed so. My own friends, co batch mates today are no less than me in any way, they wear good clothes, eat at 5-star restaurants, their wards go to English medium schools, many are studying abroad and they pay the income tax by the same slab what I pay but..... big but !  But still they and their children, the ones who went to English medium schools, attended same private tuition classes, wore branded shoes and took tennis lessons, still avail facilities under the backward category. At this stage, I then wonder what exactly it means by backwards?
The whole idea was, to bring real, real backward classes to a particular standard of living, once that achieved how far it is feasible for this class to continue with the reservation policy.

No, I am definitely not against reservations. You go 50 miles north of Mumbai, number one metropolis of India and we have Jawhar and Mokhada where for simple drinking water you have to struggle day in and day out, electricity is seldom available, schools are distant and ill staffed, in short, no gateway to mainstream society. This is the deserving lot and not the one who sits next to each other in Secretariat as officers or high levels managers but one enjoys and other doesn't, that's discrepancy! And the constitution I know is against it fundamentally.

We may be from the same  Alma mater but has a system  made a rift or is it so?

Another thorn in the leg was rampant nepotism. The professional rapport among-st the teaching staff and the practising but visiting consultants was so thick that the wards of the doctors got undeservedly better percentage in the finals enabling them, to hog all the coveted PG seats though in reality, they did not deserve. Now they buy in the open market!
Don't know where people like me started with dreams in eyes and goals in heart and practised honestly throughout life and where is it going to end?

Another Ghashiram in the making ?

Controversy about song 'Pinga' is spiralling so fast that it seems Bhansali may not require crores to put in for the promos and prerelease publicity, because in Cinema par-lance good or bad, any publicity is always in demand. And it is being provided by half baked history zealots [? mainly from Pune] on the platter. They seemed to be incensed, maybe because half the Pune is still in the slumber of past or maybe because Bajirao Peshwa hailed from Pune, a blue-blooded Puneri, for whom 'I'll break but won't bend' was/is a dictum. 

I too don't proclaim myself to be a historian, even half baked at that, but whatever I know about Bajirao comes from a very famous, very very famous novel on his life, going by the title 'Rau' written by very studious and a stickler for the facts, novel writer, Mr N S Inamdar.

Yes, Mastani was not accepted in Peshwa family by spreading red carpet for her, yes Chimajiappa, younger brother of Bajirao always detested her to the last,  but she was allowed to stay in Pune in a citadel specially built for her in Kothrud. When her son from Bajirao Samsher Bahadur [ Originally named Krushnarao], became eligible for thread ceremony, only meant for high caste Brahmans, though the ritual could not be solemnized at Kothrud by Bajirao, Kashibai saheb had sent gifts for the young boy nonetheless, accepting that he too was blue-blooded. Not only that, but Kashibai saheb also adopted him after the death of both Bajirao and Mastani and raised him as her own in Shaniwar Wada. It seems from the history that though Chimajiappa and Bajirao's mother Radhikabai were dead against Mastani, had even tried to eliminate her, Kashibai saheb might have had a soft corner for the lady. So though kept on the periphery, Mastani definitely did matter.

She was the daughter of Bundelkhand King Chhatrasal from his Muslim wife. She was officially married to Bajirao. Being a princess naturally, she was trained in warfare but was also trained in feminine art forms like dancing [ being a tradition up in north ] knitting, cooking and all other sundry things expected off a good wife.

Marathi [ I always detest the word 'Maharashtrian' because it encompasses anybody staying in Maharashtra, and it was coined much much later when Maharashtra state came into being ] women folk in those times were not allowed to venture out in open and interact with men, true, [ it took aeons for Savitribai Phule to start the revolution way after Peshwa period was over ] so the festivities like Mangalgaur were arranged precisely, taking the very fact into consideration. It's not unthinkable that in such festivities these,' always behind the curtain' women letting themselves go and enjoying the freedom to the hilt as men were simply not allowed. There are so many Mangalagaur songs and acts which may border on notoriety/ mischievousness.

The whole hoopla is being created after watching a  song, only one song 'Pinga', THE movie has yet to see the light of the day. The song shows Kashibai saheb and Mastani dancing to the tune of 'Pinga' but not like tamasha dancers as it is made out to be. Of course, the first few lines are based on famous Lavani song from V Shantaram film but only the tune, the steps enacted are far from it. Nowhere both have taken their pallus above their head, a step must for any Lavani song. Nowhere they are shown gyrating their derrieres or bosom to the erotic words of the Lavani, again a must for a Lavani song. In one or two instances Mastani [ Deepika] is shown doing Bharatnatyam steps which may be a deterrent as being from the north she should have been more conversant with Kathak rather than Bharat Natyam.

Apart from all these so-called historical technical things, what I feel like a true Marathi, every Marathi should welcome the movie with an open heart because it's going to open the world vistas for the Marathi culture, maybe, maybe in truncated form but aren't you bored of anyone with a 26-inch waist and 30-inch chest shouting " Main Punjab da Puttar" or " My two and a half kg arm [ with 100 mg of the brain ] if falls... "whatever! Have you any seen any Bollywood movie with protagonist A Marathi coming from rich class and dictating the terms. Either they are bhais fighting petty battles on the inner streets of Byculla or bais washing the utensils, and brooming the floor Always on the fringe. So now when this is happening why to abort it ?!
And for those puritans! Nothing in nature is in the purest form. Adaptation and Mutation is the rule of nature.!
Similar scenario prevailed among-st the Marathi literati when Ghashiram was staged years ago. Later it has become a milestone not only for Marathi theatre but also for the entire world. Every Marathi is now proud of the play that received stones and brickbats initially.
Let Bhansali take his creative liberties, and if he goes away from history in a perverse way then and then only take out your swords. [ I don't think that he would dare to do so. All said and done, Bajirao Mastani love story is mentioned in the same breath as that of Romeo and Juliet, Shiri and  Farhan, Laila and Majnu and chaste Marathis too do not object to it.] Let Bajirao Mastani see the screen in an earnest way and let us allow it to sink and float on its own merits and demerits. Till then let us wait and watch keeping in mind, what happened to Ghashiram in the past!

Musings ! Happy birthday to me !

Yet another year went by. Whether to look back to take the stock of the years gone by or to look forward to plan the life and start enjoying the ripe old age? Or I would rather look nowhere in particular. If you reminisce with a twinkle in the eyes and chuckle on the lips, you are going down the memory lane with nostalgia, but to be nostalgic means to be old. But of course, it means a life well lived and with a lot of goodies gathered on the way. Do you want to be one? Jolly well good old fellow?

And if you remember only rainy days it's really time to ponder. The road, if was always rough and rocky, maybe you had to fight all the time with the odds and come out relatively unscathed. Was it a life fought for a cause, worth to fight? I have seen so many around,  fighting losing battles fiercely and getting hopelessly wounded in the end!

I don't know what came more, in my share. 

Life is like water at the bottom of the pot and you are like a thirsty crow. You keep on dropping parts of your soul, pebble by pebble, hoping one day life would reach you, You would relish on it and fly away contentedly. Does it really happen? Or it's just a facade, an illusion of life well lived. Did it happen in my case.? By the time water rose to the desired level the longing to drink water had already evaporated. It so happened that I had to throw in so many pebbles, that all that water, I was hoping to drink and get drunk on life, just did not rise, it got consumed in just coating the pebbles leaving hardly anything for me to devour!

Does it make you cynical? No, it made me blank! Because cynicism too doesn't count! Really, what matters? Nothing, really nothing in big capital letters. You start as if it's a big deal but there comes a someone with a pin and you are left deflated at every level. The world goes on with or without you anyway.  

Happiness is not something to be achieved in the end. You have to work on it and live life simultaneously while having the journey! I did it, in the best way I could. I lost a few relations on the way I nurtured few endearing ones along. Pluses and minuses make the equation. Equation of my life would be a puzzle to me too. Haven't gathered so far, where I stand. And to tell the truth, not bothered to know either. 

If death is always a lingering thought, lurking at the back of your mind, maybe your hands are full either with the content or with remorse. In both the situations that's the normal outcome. Or should it be?!

Many more are to come, till the curtains are downed for the good, don't know, what to look forward to, till then? No, not out of desperation but because of sense of Deja Vu. Whatever there is to life,  I feel, I have lived enough and don't feel that life has anything more in store for me! No desire or longing is that strong, that sense of missing it, would prevail. And if you ask me there is no end to life. Really!

Me. A Schizophrenic ?

Nowadays I am confused a lot. Every which way the things are going is so beyond me that many times I fail to comprehend the situation. So a 'Gay' country [ They themselves call their capital 'Gay Paaari '. Of course affectionately and not literally ] like France attacks Syria without bothering about the other world's reaction, read Islamic, within a week of attack and we went on prosecuting Qasab for donkeys' years. And in the end what we proved to whom? I am confused.  

Man kills animals for food. and none escapes to satisfy his taste buds. From Mosquito eggs to insects, like gross hoppers and their larvae, from Dogs in Korea to Cats in Indonesia. From Crocodiles in Africa to Snails in France, you name a living thing  and it is served on your plate as a delicacy. Now the point is if you eat everything why beef should be a problem. Contrarily out of all these animals if you don't eat beef are you missing out on anything. In fact, the choice is so vast! And I am confused. To support or not to support cow slaughter?

Congress looted country right left and centre for more than 60 years. All the long term plans tomtomed as Dreams of India turned out to be white elephants. It has divided country on the caste basis irreparably under the guise of reservations to correct the social injustice. And today under same caste system which we want to do away with, the elections have been won in UP and Bihar. And I, the one who really wants classless caste-less society, am left bewildered and confused.

I really feel India should be a secular state in the truest sense of the word but on one hand, we have pseudo-secularism practised by Leftist and Congress favouring only Muslims and on the other side we have VHPs and Bajarang Dals who are taking India back to medieval times. Again I am confused which way to go.

To be educated, that too highly educated has become really a bane in India. You know everything is going awry but you are just helpless. Hordes of illiterates from the interiors of India are bringing back the goons and corrupt in the main arena of politics that leaves you totally confused asking, what India is really made of? 

Indira Gandhi went on proclaiming 'Garibi Hatao' for many years in elections after elections, never ever delivered But my Indians want Mr.Modi to deliver in 15 months since he started holding the reigns. And they wanted such a drastic change in a scenario like a magic trick that they started shouting from the rooftops, 'He's a liar, he is fooling people.' even before he completed one year in the saddle. They did not dare a word to say against Indira Gandhi for fear of eventuality, that all we knew and know,, but in spite of being PM of the country our noble country, he is called a liar even cannibal in the recent election. And nobody went to jail or died like Mr Nagarwala in suspicious conditions. I am confused who really is intolerant.

The list is enormous. I don't know when to stop. See. Confusion again.

  

Katyar Kaljat Ghusali

Let me confess at the outset that I was a bit, no, much skeptical about FILM 'Katyar Kaljat Ghusali'. Reasons were many. To start with, it is originally a musical, in drama format written many many years ago when we were young collegians when one has opinions on everything under the sun,  justifiable or not. And 'Katyar' was a huge success then, [why it still is an enigma even today.] so it was  THE play of OUR youth . So far all filmed dramas in Marathi have not lost their theatrical format thus remained just that ' Filmed drama' with all its shortcoming, constraint of space, loud melodramatic acting, in simple words overacting, as close ups were not available, it was for last bench-er to appreciate the correct expression, so on and so fore. 

Second big negative  for me was Sachin Pilgaonkar. No doubt he is a stalwart having acted in all performing media for more than 5 decades, but in last few years he has become too loud , too taking patrons for granted. He had become 'Maha Guru' and it showed in every move , every gesture, every utterance of his. If you become 'Know all', well you come down a step or two as an artist.

Musical dramas have always been a social signature for Marathi upper crust of the society. It never was for those who visited theater for ' Lochya Zala Re' or 'Sahi Re Sahi.' In movie lingo it was not for those who related with ' Time Pass' or 'Dagadi Chawl' So I was doubtful, whether the director - producer duo has stooped low and diluted the entire thing for every class of Marathi cine-goer, to throng to the cinema halls to solve the financial equation. 

Well, I am happy to say that none came true, for me at least.

First. It's not a filmed drama. And that is a big big triumph in it's own way. Script is so tight that a musical with so many songs, few retained from old and few added afresh, running for more than two and half hours, never allows you to blink even for a moment. Screen is  aflame with passion, emotion and terse skirmishes all the time. You, just don't get a chance to move in your seat  uneasily with slightest boredom or even a flippant yawn is not allowed to escape clandestinely. Not that, you are on the edge of the seat all the time but you become so much part of the screen that you may never know that you may really stand up with huge applause for perfect melodious rendition given by Shankar Mahadevan, mind you for a CINEMA SCREEN, [ I myself felt like doing it so many a time ] and that's is the true criterion for good script. 

Musical of course means songs. And that's a huge plus. Old ones from the original were of course treat to the ears but new ones too blend with the scene so effortlessly that it becomes impossible to sort out the two. Shankar Mahadevan with his prodigal son Shiv Mahadevan literally set your ears to the fire. 

Performances. Hats off to Subodh Bhave for extracting such extra ordinary performances from every actor. Sachin cleared all my doubts. He has given such a nuanced performance that he is worth for his title, veteran ! Revelation was Shankar Mahadevan. A south Indian in real life, speaking chaste Marathi without any signs of naivety gives such a solid performance that you just forget that it's his first ! The role fits him like a glove and raises no questions for his selection.

Hats off to Subodh Bhave THE captain of the ship , first for taking such a huge risk and second, for carrying it out with what a  huge poise. Successfully!

Go, what are you waiting for, throng the nearest movie hall. And for non Marathis it has subtitles in English ! 

Oh Salman

Oh, Salman! Initially, I did not want to comment on the topic as so much has been written about it ad nauseum that it has become like a cesspool full of mud, so when you venture to come out, this way or that way, your clothes are going to get spoiled in the end. Anybody in his position with means and money would have used the loopholes in the system to the hilt including you and me so there is no point in crying for those who don't have the means. I find it extremely difficult, to procure even a single bottle of blood for the neediest one because it costs a hell lot of money, but when an assassinated national leader and celebrated film star required blood transfusions, blood bottles were procured in dozens in no time. That's the reality for you and you have to accept it. No, I don't have any soft corner for this rich and utterly spoilt brat full with arrogance and attitude [ other was Sanjay Dutt ] but so much is written against him that it seems like trial by proxy.

Birds of the same feather flock together so Film fraternity thronging to show its solidarity with him in his times of [?] crisis is understandable, [ Surprisingly same camaraderie was conspicuously in short supply when Shiney Ahuja was under the scanner for, though punishable but much less severe crime of sexcapades, as against culpable homicide and in the other case, crime amounting practically to? sedition, or when same Bhai vowed to finish the carrier of Vivek Oberai for practically no offence of his.] but what's beyond any white collared so-called rational, bothered about the plunging values of society, intellectual is the support he is garnering from the die-hard, low brow single-screen moviegoer. Salman does not give him a dime but on the contrary, this man on the street throws a chunk of whatever little he earns to exist, to have just a glimpse of this two penny star who has delivered mediocre performance film after film. Even though fully aware of the fact that the one who came under his car and died unceremoniously was one of them!

In any philosophy of love it has been harped again and again from times immortal that if you love somebody from the bottom of your heart, you have to accept him/her the way he/she is, with all warts, with all the virtues and vices. Many relationships have failed or failing on this solid [ not slippery] fundamental grounds but it seems that it's not applicable to this fan of Salman, whatever. Definitely intriguing but explainable nonetheless. I don't like Salman as a movie actor or as a person but it seems that he has struck a chord in the man on the street somewhere deep inside. 

Is it not the acme of love, most undemanding! 

If PM stepps down on demand of oppositon and media

Imagine. Due to constant barking of the stray dogs outside the official prime ministerial residence in New Delhi, PM resigns, declaring frankly that he could not deliver what he promised exactly a year ago. The Mercs were short in supply as the European economy was in doldrums due to the Greece crisis, so he could not gift a Merc to every Indian as promised. He could not improve the judiciary as the backlog was so much that it would have taken more than 300 years to clear the cases in Mumbai courts [alone] with the present speed of deliverance of justice. He could not empower woman because that was to be done by Pappu and Co so he left it at that. He could not go far with his 'Swachchta Abhiyan' because that would have endangered Rich Indian culture and civilization of spitting on roads, defecating on railroads and littering the roads in general. And at any cost, he had to stand by Indian ethos and did not want to hurt the sentiments of poor, common Indian on the street. 

So he has stepped down. scenario number one. Pappu and His mother Maria, [ Mythological figures from Greece, no relation to any present-day caricature, I mean Individual ] come  [ back] to power.

1. Bharat Ratna is conferred on Diggy for his masterstroke in bringing the duo back in the saddle.

2. Sub Bharat Ratna for Maverick from Maharashtra who coined the slogan 'India is Maria and Maria is India' after changing the stance for umpteen number of times, at times backstabbing the near and dears ones, [so called.] to be as near the saddle as possible.

3. Within 24 hours all the women in India are empowered and the divorce rate shoots very high, breaking the ceiling.

4. Suicides committed by farmers stop immediately with retrospective effect [ Government order] so, many dead farmers come back to life singing ballads of Pappu's Padyatra that brought them back to life.

5. Greece's Economy skyrockets as Indian money is siphoned out with blessing from Maria who originally hailed from that country.

6. The dollar becomes so cheap that India is asked to stop her growth immediately by China so that the Chinese economy gets a chance to remain afloat vis a vis India's and America's.

7. Within 48 hrs India finds 15 gold mines and 32 oil reserves on her subcontinent making average Indian very very rich by the fastest speed by any counter.

Difficult to enumerate the further events and course of actions, they are innumerable.

Scenario two.

Zaadu and co. comes in power. 

1. Party gets divided into 4 fractions, each one governing Indian subcontinent in its own fashion

2. All water, electricity, money, industry is diverted to Delhi making other states barren and bereft of any facilities.

3. So every Indian worth his salt marches towards Delhi to get water, electricity, ration, school and college education, a monthly quota of alcohol and condoms, free of cost.

4. Delhi has to extend her borders so much that her southern tip now is known as Kanyakumari, the northern tip still unknown due to Kashmir dispute.

5. Over a period of time, there was so much of garbage, political or otherwise that broom started falling short of its expectations so electronic sweepers were asked for, thereby forcing the party to change the electoral symbol.

3rd Option: All Yadavs come together and there starts a Big Big Yadavi. No one should dare to venture. The area is forbidden.

Limited Social work

I don't have the faintest idea what pushed me to be in the position, what  I  am in today. Coming from a middle class, to study was the only agenda and there was no alternative. All the boys coming from the families around, too probably belonged to the same status economically and value-wise, so no deterrent there, thus all the friends were similarly study minded,  hard-working and having a fixed goal of getting good marks in the finals. It was like a stream with definite flow speed and direction and you were not supposed to fight against it, it was accepted norm. So in the due course, we all graduated with really good marks, shone in our respective fields, and braced ourselves for the second point on agenda, ' To earn a livelihood and amass enough money for trouble-free independent old age.' The money came in incidentally, there was no fixed plan or greed to procure it. Like any MD in my times, Independent practice was the logo of the day so went for it and money just came in, enough for the standards expected off a consultant by the society. There was no time to look around. Socially inclined mates were not from the inner circle. Definitely felt differently about them, but neither there was awe nor even repulsion, only indifference. I don't know whether that was the start of uneasiness that I feel today!

Chanced to meet youth from interiors of backward Maharashtra, where my MD Doctor friend's father had died of dehydration after diarrhoea for want of simple IV fluids and the lack of good medical facilities in the perimeter of 50 miles around!

Santosh Garje in his late twenties had to come to Mumbai to collect donations for an orphanage that he runs for around 100 children, 150 km away from district place of Beed. He along with his friend stayed with us for 3 days and I could get a glimpse of how hard, life could be.

Coming from a family of landless labourers, he mooted the idea of starting an orphanage at the age of 18 single-handedly after his sister died due to atrocities of her husband. The brother in law did not stop at that, remarried within short time discarding the girl child. His father went in such a profound shock that he left the home on pilgrimage never to return. Though partly educated at that time Santosh did not lose faith in society and most importantly in himself, so started an orphanage with 7 children to start with. And then there was a rocky ride for many years to come. Right from, the threats from the goons to demands of signing authorities to grease the palms, he went through every hurdle with his head held high but a heart full of compassion. Today his orphanage shelters girls who require separate building and he is short of funds. Me and my family especially my wife Shubha do try to help him for his cause but her efforts do have limitations.

Deities who really do not come to rescue in our difficult times, get money, gold and whatnot in crores but people like Santosh have to beg for alms to run an Ashram for destitute. 

And there lies the cause for my unexplained uneasiness. Do we as a class have restricted ourselves to limited social work? Donate few rupees and responsibility towards society is over. Don't know what's the deterrent but thought many times to leave everything and join some ashram to offer my expertise. Is it the insecurity, typically middle class,'If it fails!' where would I go then?  What about MY old age? Probably we all are stuck in the same rut to varying extents. And the thought increases my uneasiness further. The only way out then maybe, to help likes of Santosh more and exercise our limited social work!

Judiciary

Judicial systems all over the world are contrived to take into consideration the local customs, culture, religion and so many other things to dole out the justice to the wronged parties. That's the broad principle for laying down the laws and rules by learned people who profess to know better, to be followed by the common man on the street. Thus these laws not only vary from country to country but in countries like the US of A from state to state, which to a certain extent is applicable to India also. The entire machinery that goes into it, for it to work smoothly, is managed by human beings like you and me. The bar of humanitarianism, integrity, intelligence and logic is expected to be so high that at the lower end of the hierarchy, it seems to be in want direly everywhere, including developed countries. The posts at the lowest level are taken by people who may not be qualified for the post simply because they lack the higher skills and proficiency for higher posts so they are there in these posts. And the struggle of the common man seeking justice for the right cause starts at this lowest level. This half baked human barrier simply does not allow the case to go further with their myopic views and blinds worn preventing them to see beyond.

It so happened once that I was hit while driving my car, from behind on left side by a teenager cyclist that made hardly any sound. I continued to drive thinking it to be a road bump. A constable came searching for me in my hospital when I was busy seeing a patient requiring urgent attention. He alleged that I had knocked the cyclist down, which naturally came to me as a surprise. On knowing the details I tried to argue with him to put my point forward that according to Motor Vehicle Act if somebody hits you from behind on the left side, it's not the fault of car driver but is of the one who bangs from behind. He did not listen to my side of the story and was stubborn enough to push his point relentlessly. In the end, I gave up and said 'Do whatever you want to do'. End of the story: For no fault of mine I had to attend court neglecting my duties at clinic, wasting valuable time and paying fine of Rs 500/-  unnecessarily because the peg at the lowest level was ignorant of the law and was adamant enough to teach me a lesson!

I agree, this incidence is extremely trivial, but if you stretch the imagination, it could be projected to enormous proportions, at times even unthinkable levels!

I feel the entire machinery has a human face, and that, it has to have. But it could be its boon and bane at the same time. Even if the laws are laid down for the betterment, they are made by humans only to be followed by humans. So at every level from application to execution of the said laws, Human factor is going to affect the ultimate outcome. So the Police are going to have its own bias, lawyers their own including the ultimate in the system the Judge, who would not be a robot! Unfortunately in the system made by the humans, this entire set has put itself on such a high pedestal that you just can not utter even 'D' of the word dissent to reach them. In the US of States, once the lowest wrung of this hierarchy declares you to be  ' An Enemy of the State', entire Patriotic America is after you for your blood.
So far I always have been on the right side of the line. So far so good, but to say that I am bothered by the recent assaults on the medical professionals would be an understatement. Petrified would be too dramatic but scared, definitely that I am. After 45 years in the field and 35 years in direct practice, I keep on dreading when would be my turn next? The surroundings have become so volatile and vicious that it's a question of only one spark! In such a situation to whom should, I turn to? I am a senior professional with vast experience in the field. And if at all a case arises, I would be questioned by a junior may be a senior lawyer, who really have not studied medicine to my depth, about my credentials in the field. How much fair it would be in the broader sense? One professional being questioned by another having the least knowledge about other's field. If everything is going to depend on paperwork and circumstantial evidence Doctors would be left with nothing but the clerical work more than to practise their acquired skills.  
In a much much broader sense, how far is it feasible for any human being to prosecute another human being when everything is unclear and blurred and the laws are variable at the most! It boils down to the opinion of one or few according to the present system. It's injustice meted out to an individual by majority, Brutal, under the guile of law. I don't know the answer, I don't have the solution and I do believe in the integrity of today's system but .... isn't there a big question mark? 

Court

I love to go for movies, and love to watch them on a big screen. Any, off the tract movie I seldom miss. So it was natural that I beelined for 'Court', award-winning Marathi movie. As such I have a soft corner for Marathi movies so many a time I have watched them either alone in a multiplex or in the company of not more than 10 patrons. 'Court' definitely drew decent crowd but it was prime time slot on Sunday!

I would love to dissect, not analyse, the movie on two levels. It's real worth and it's award-winning status. I am feeling sad to do so but that's it, dissection.

To start, I felt like I ended up paying for a very slow, not much to reveal, without any shockers in the plot, a documentary that ended so abruptly that, it was the only twist in the entire narration. I don't know where it lost that bite but as it went along it never caught me by my neck and made me swirl in my seat with uneasiness. The narration no doubt was without any pretensions but it lacked that zing, making it a totally bland dish. It just goes from one scene to another without really making any impact. And the shots linger so much that maybe a yawn escapes, especially in the scene where the court is adjourned for the day and attendant closes the room. Same for the last Arnala picnic. It drags on and on. On a different level, to show the difference between the statuses of Public prosecutor and the lawyer of the defendant, 'the dining out' scenes seemed contrived and mundane. For anybody in present-day Indian ethos with eyes widely open, it comes hardly as a shock, and the purpose of it serving as an eye-opener is totally lost without making any impact whatsoever. These are the realities of the day to day life that everybody is aware of and there is hardly any drama in it, to make it, into a full-length feature film. Made on the similar lines, about the futility and treachery of the Police and Judicial system, even in a country like US of A, 'Nothing but the truth' makes you cringe in the seat. Comparisons are always hideous but....    

It's so realistic that it does not pounce on you. You feel as if you have read a newspaper after morning's tea, leave everything at that and head for your daily chores forgetting about everything you read in a jiffy.  

On the second level: It has won President's Golden Lotus as an outstanding movie of the year. As a Marathi moviegoer, I felt extremely proud of it for two reasons. One, it being a Marathi movie and second, so far President's Awards are always held in high esteem!

Now is it really a Marathi movie? Of course, it's about Marathi but not in Marathi. And does it espouse the cause of Marathi? Many characters including the defence lawyer, never utter a word in Marathi. On the contrary, he wants the proceedings to be translated into a language other than Marathi. That too after living in Mumbai for life long! The court proceedings are conducted in Marathi accented English, naturally. So there goes half the chunk.

Awards! That's absolutely a different issue altogether. Manojkumar and Shankar Jaikishan getting them for 'Pehchan' was a big let down for a person like me who always felt that they should be always on merit! Shah Rukh Khan getting even nomination for ' Chennai Express' and ' Happy New Year' is an indication of, up to what level the standard has stooped.

So far President's awards were above this. Now I doubt! What criteria do they apply for selecting a movie for the highest slot is really bothersome. Or was the standard of other contenders was that dubious? 

Language Bridge or barrier ?

I really don't get why non-Marathi speaking Maharashtrians, as they love to call themselves, detest Marathi so much? They up their antennae at the drop of a hat whenever something positive is being considered about Marathi culture or Marathi in her own state. And they don't leave any stone unturned till they get everything their way. At times labelling pure love of the natives for their own culture and language parochial. Never heard of such clamour being whipped up In Chennai about Tamil or In Kolkatta about Bengali. Nobody simply dares! Why, here in Mumbai nobody raises an eyebrow even by a flicker when every other Punjabi Film star, especially male one, proclaims with vacuous pride that Punjabi blood flows through his veins and he is proud to be a Great Punjabi! Why then so much of hue and cry is being raised when Marathi cause is espoused by a Marathi government.

According to our constitution,  all major Indian languages are having equal status, and Hindi is NOT a national language as it is made out to be. BUT Marathi is definitely the STATE language and state must do everything to see to it that she gets her due status and respect. 

Everybody now days wants to have his/her way saying, 'It's my choice'. All these so-called Maharashtrians want their choice of not having Marathi Movie in Prime Time slot. Then what about the choice of a blue-blooded Marathi like me to watch Marathi movie at 6 PM slot when Multiplex owner is just not going to screen my choice of movie in that slot. And who knows if they start screening, maybe Marathi Movies will start giving their counterparts in other languages tough time! Or is it so, that's why these very people are afraid of the competition?

The real point is not a particular language. Human Larynx is only voice producing organ in the entire animal world, which can be modulated, intoned, emphasized to make different sounds using/ relaxing/ contracting correct muscles of vocal cords with input from the cerebral cortex. Such a mechanism , very complex one is the mother of all the Languages. The sound made by human larynx may be the same throughout the world, as though the races differ, laryngeal anatomy does not. But that sound takes meaning only when years of culture, history goes into it. Thus simple sound produced by any larynx in the world like 'Ma' has different meanings in different languages. So it does not stop at the language level when somebody objects to it. It's definitely an attack on the being of an individual. When I say I am Marathi then my being Marathi starts from way back in the 8th century. Decades of struggle, improvements, additions, omissions, writings, thoughts of authors, poets philosophers, saints along with the patrons who supported them have contributed to my being Marathi today.

Likes of Shobhaa De are not Marathis, in an interview for National Channel she could not speak barely two sentences in simple Marathi in one breath, she may be a Maharashtrian but definitely not Marathi. And they make the most noise about being 'True', whatever that means, Maharashtrian!
I sincerely used to believe in the dictum that language is just a mode of communication, but now I feel it's too simple in today's highly politicized world. The poser now is whether it is a bridge or barrier?

Pune: ongoing cascade of memories.

Thus, though Day Jee had a separatist aura around it, Pune proper too [ mostly Sadashiv, Shanwar Narayan ]  tried hard to project its elan especially when it came to, Nana, Guruwar or Vetal Peth. Camp always was different, as if it was never a part of Pune on this side of the world. Neither Day Jee nor Proper Puneites lagged behind in looking down upon east Pune but prided when they went to watch a Hollywood flick at the West End! It was THE thing to do! It was my long-cherished dream too, to visit 3 Coins restaurant on East street. It materialized late, late by 20 years but the pressure [ I am in 3 Coins !] was almost palpable.
Pune, east of Budhwar chowk was considered backward by Day Jee and Pune Proper! Maybe, it carried caste undertones too!  If somebody answered in accent from Satara or Sangli with a distinct drawl, it was met with 'You seem to be graduated from the University of Vegetable Market [Mandai in Marathi] ! ' an encounter full with typical Pune sarcasm!

The speciality of Day Jee was, Cozy bungalows lining Prabhat Roat and Karve Road. By lanes of Apte Road and Model colony were its rich cousins!
It was an abode for all that Marathi diaspora who, after toiling in cities like Mumbai and Delhi life long, wished to be cremated at Omkareshwar after the last breath.

 As if it was THE road in the entire universe, 80 Ft road, aka JM road now, was a piece of pride! So much so that Puneris used to sing a song, specially written in its praise !.
The words went something like these,
' Shama let's take a stroll on 80 feet road with poise and go to Sambhaji garden !'

Another soft point for Day Jee was cinema theatre 'Hindvijay'! Built in the 40s in Art Deco style of Miami's or Mumbai's Marine lines, but losing its battle with time in due course! Why only Day Jee, entire Pune was in love with that handsome structure. Painted in faint pink it had two towers on sides with a spacious decorated porch at the entrance. Doors had etched glasses and foyer had huge Belgian mirrors, like today's Liberty or Maratha Mandir of Mumbai. What it prided in, is lost in today's multiplex era. Screens in today's multiplexes are naked, nothing to hide. Hindvijay boasted in having pure velvet curtain in Burgundy red with golden circles at the lower border, covering the silver screen with due respect! It used to move sidewards with the grace of Cleopatra before the real show started in black and white. Eastman colour was years away!
In 57 Mutha flooded Pune beyond limits and waters reached Hindvijay too. I distinctly remember a visit to Hindvijay then, with the elders as it was a fashion in Pune in those days to visit flood-affected areas. I remember vividly that it was showing, Madhumati, starring Dilipkumar and Vyjayantimala,  with its poster pasted on the side walls.
Being prestigious cinema hall of Pune in those days it screened many hits from Hollywood as well as Bollywood. Though totally washed out in Panshet deluge, it rose like a phoenix again and showed big Hindi Hits like 'Sangam ' Waqt' for months together. It opened 70 mm screen for the 1st time in Pune with Shirley McClain starter, 'Can-Can ' a Hollywood flick with said dance as the theme. Now it had a curtain in Pure Gold colour that rolled upwards in elegant semicircles, again 1st in Pune !  6 tracks stereophonic sound too was a novelty then. I simply can not forget the train whistle of 'Where Eagles Dare' or the ear-splitting sound of planes hovering over the head in 'Battle of Bulge' even after 50 years. In the 70s it changed the hands. Shindes from Bengaluru renovated it and new 'Natraj' stood in its place. It neither had the charm of Hindvijay nor it was that good, it was just an adulterated copy of their 'Nartaki' cinema Hall at Bengaluru. Today that too has been erased from Pune's topography.
Down went Shrinath, Aryan, Minerva also. Once Alpana was Known as Shirin or Ratan as Paramount hardly anybody knew or cared. 
Not only these structures went down with the time but they took away a slice of Pune's history along with them.

Today Pune has everything that a normal modern city has. But that old world charm is lost somewhere along the lines. Once backward East Pune has gone much ahead of Day Jee and Pune Proper with its Multiplexes and Ultra-modern malls like Amanora, All season's mall or Phoenix city. But that's plastic. Real worth probably got washed away in Panshet deluge! 

Down the memory lane: Pune

Laxmi Road: To call it a road, is to insult the word 'Road'. Actually, it swiftly fitted the definition of gulley then too. It is really hard to imagine that PMT Bus No. 7 used to ply on this road. Both ways !! With a protruding snout-like bonnet, it used to look like a toy bus made from matchboxes, so we kids used to call it ' Kadepeti' [matchbox in Marathi. ]Because it used to zigzag through better localities of Pune, Camp to wit, it carried enigma in our eyes while the other one, No 2, used to ply between the same destinations, from Day Gee to Pune station but via a different route, held low esteem in our view, as it crossed through low brow areas of Pune. Say, Kasba Peth, Ravivar Peth Daruwala Pul, and Rasta Peth. Bus No 3 was the queen of all the routes because it used Tilak Road and prestigious 80 feet road to reach the station from Swargate. Later the routes were rearranged so No 3 became 4 while No 7 became 14. I don't know how are they now!
To count the buses passing through Kunte Chowk while sitting on the steps of our Wada was a favourite past time. To predict when the signal would turn green was another. It was a very peculiar traffic signal. Carton like  metal box was hung at the centre of the crossroads, with red and green glasses on each side. If Laxmi roadside had red ones on the upper side, the cross roadside had greens. The arrangement was totally reverse on the lower side. It had only 2 bulbs. So when the upper bulb was on, it was red for Laxmi Road traffic, while the crossroad had green signal. Exactly opposite was true for the lower bulb.
The crossroad from our Wada to Kunte chowk continued further down to Fadtare Chowk, where Chitales had a smallish shop, not more than 10 by 12 Ft dealing in dairy products. It later became today's big, bigger conglomerate the 'Chitale Bandhu'  much famous sweetmeat makers all over Maharashtra, maybe world [?amongst Marathi diaspora]! In the era when Refrigerator at home was a distant dream I had purchased 250 gm of yoghurt for 25 paise, and the same amount of pure butter for a rupee and 25 paise for years together. So much so that we had an account over there. I still remember Mr Wagh calling me across the counter and asking ' What little Benurwar has come for, today? ' The founder Mr Raghunathrao Chitale in his crisp white cotton dhoti, too was affectionate one, inquiring periodically about well being of my granny and home people. Bhel by Gajanan and Misal by Bedekar were other weak points for Puneites then. Today Chitale Bandhu have gone beyond cult, so much so that Gujrati Bakarwadi now is known as Chitale's Bakarwadi.

It is extremely difficult to define the word ' Puneri' and also the person carrying the nomenclature. In fact 'Puneri' and 'Punekar' are two different species altogether. The one who comes to Pune on the job, then falls in love with Pune and settles down here is a  Punekar [ Mostly Marathi Mumbaite but longing for Marathiness in Mumbai's cosmopolitan chaos ]   For him it takes very long to understand the nuanced Marathi of Pune, read sarcastic. So the one who has been nurtured only on waters of Mula and Mutha [ In real sense only Mutha, because Mula in those days was not in real Pune, it flows through distant Pimpri and Chinchwad, ] is 'Puneri'.  He need not be taught to speak, behave like a true Puneri, True Puneri is born, can never be made! Two drops of Mutha with gripe water and the child starts talking Puneri without a hitch!

More to follow.