Our reviewed movie today is not a movie, it is a tribute to the Indian audience. It tests there patience, incites snide remarks, endures the said remarks, and yet, somehow, with amazing determination, continues to play at the cinema halls. That a movie goer would rather suffer brain hemorrhage listening to the extremely cheesy dialogues than waste his money by getting out of the hall is a given; something the movie producers exploit to the fullest. And, like so very often in our country, the makers just make a very bad movie which they don’t even bother to edit, and make sure they have a good interesting trailer so that the audience gets hooked and comes to the theatres. And once there, they make sure the light is dim and the volume as low as permitted by the one or two freaks who are actually interested in the movie, and not in what the couple in the next row is doing. To be frank though, odds of that happening are really, really low.
Our topic for discussion today is one such ‘movie’, Maharaja, though calling it a movie is really stretching the term thin. It is like a humourless joke, a meaningless conversation, so much so that it is actually inspiring the dormant poet within me to come up with more such oxy-moronic metaphors. And the extent to which the makers have promoted bad acting, worse story, and pathetic direction is mind boggling. If India had the Razzies, the opposite of the Oscars in the US, given out to the worst movies and performers of the year, Our movie Maharaja would be a shoo-in. It wouldn’t win comfortably as much as romp home to victory.
Ok, a bit about the movie. This is after all a movie review. To what effect, though, is something beyond me, for you have to be masochistic to watch the movie after reading this review. So yea, Govinda is born to the King of some godforsaken land, and the king is happy beyond the earth. And then there is an evil uncle. I could just tell you what happens next instead of typing this, but I suppose that’s the kind of wayward behaviour my current state incites, what with all the yawning and the smiling at the same time I try to achieve. But yea, ok, past that stage. The uncle usurps the kingdom, and makes to kill the toddler prince, but a loyal governor replaces the prince with his own son, and sends the prince to live in the Himalayas with a sage.
And you know how sages in Himalayas are, what with all those powers, to melt metal just by looking at it, to call the animals of the jungle and be friendly with them. Regular circus antics. Our prince goes up into a fine young man, complete with pot belly and all, and completely muscular, but with muscles being muscles, they get shy and hide behind the flab. And at the peak of his youth, not a year early or late, in walks Juhi Chawla, a TV reporter, who wants to display our circus freak hero to the world. Then he realizes who he really is, and then starts the campaign to win the kingdom back. No prizes for guessing who wins….
Should you watch this film? Sure, life is a collection of mistakes, and it is counted by not the number of breaths you take, but by the times that you have your breaths taken away. Sounds like a sad toothpaste add, doesn’t it? But yea, it’ll take your breath away all right, and leave you coughing, wheezing and breathless. My advise, a movie to die for. Or after. Not much difference if you are watching the Maharaja.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Jimmy Jimmy Jimmy....aaja aaja *gags and dies*
Come one, come all, to the biggest travesty of them all. Not a very good effort at rhyming, but that’s just me trying to keep in with the way the ‘Jimmy’ has been made. Remember Gabbar Singh’s ‘Kitne Aadmni thhe?’, or Shashi Kapoor’s ‘Mere paas Ma hai’? well, add to that distinguished list a dialogue from this magnum opus – “ Do you think I am a rejected man?” Yea, that is probably the most powerful dialogue, said by no less than the main villain during the climax of the movie, which just goes to show how pathetic the movie can be. There is more such rib tickling ‘serious’ scenes…..but, all in good time.
First, a little background of the movie. Slated to be the launch vehicle of Mimoh Chakravarty, son of the legendary Mithun Chakravarty, the story and script of the movie just caged Mimoh into giving one of the worst performances of the year, and that too in only his first movie. Truly commendable. The story is no different from what his father was doing in the eighties and nineties. Dancing around needlessly, always the same four moves that he can pull off. Its like watching Mithun Chakravarty in 4X, all you can see are glimpses of his legs moving around like butterfly wings, while the upper part of his body remains almost motionless. That’s dancing for you. A word about the music. In fact, a lot of words about the music. Remember Bappi Lahari and Mithun Chakravarty’s hit jodi? Well, this movie marks the beginning of a new era. Bappi’s son Bappa Lahari has given music, and the way he has lifted music from Eminem’s Shake that Ass is truly heart warming. Like father, Like son, eh? In other Lahari trivia, I have it from reliable sources that the next generation of the Lahai kids would be named thus: Bappu, Bappey, Bappau…after which they’ll resort to numbers, for example Bap1, Bap2, Bap3. I hear its going top be a copyright thing.
A peek into the story, then. Jimmy (probably inspired by the hit song ‘Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy, Aaja, Aaja, Aaja’ from Disco Dancer), is, what else, but a dancer in a night club, trying to pay off his father’s huge loans. And with dialogues like “ Meri ek-ek saans aapke paas girvi rahegi…”, the movie has managed to take bollywood back to the eighties in one, swift moment. He is then told by the doctors that he has brain tumour. Really, the industry wallahs have to get a bit more imaginative. Anyhow, the latest update on the tally goes something like this:
Heroes affected by Tumour – 196
Heroes suffering from Cancer – 178
Other diseases – Zero, Zilch, Nada.
So yea, the hero is dying, and in love with a rich girl, and has a very rich best friend. The makers would have done better to name the movie Cliché. How the movie expected to do well in 2007 is beyond the realms of logic. Then the movie gets…..well, interesting. And no, I don’t easily give up on being sarcastic. Jimmy takes responsibility of a murder, so that his mother can receive the money from the real killers, and then finds out he isn’t dying, after all. So, thus happens the prison break and the search for the real killers. A must watch, but only if all the video libraries in the world have shut shop and your life depends on watching a movie, and this is the only disc available. Although some might disagree, but somehow, I don’t thinks its bad enough to stop living anymore. But then, that’s just my personal belief.
First, a little background of the movie. Slated to be the launch vehicle of Mimoh Chakravarty, son of the legendary Mithun Chakravarty, the story and script of the movie just caged Mimoh into giving one of the worst performances of the year, and that too in only his first movie. Truly commendable. The story is no different from what his father was doing in the eighties and nineties. Dancing around needlessly, always the same four moves that he can pull off. Its like watching Mithun Chakravarty in 4X, all you can see are glimpses of his legs moving around like butterfly wings, while the upper part of his body remains almost motionless. That’s dancing for you. A word about the music. In fact, a lot of words about the music. Remember Bappi Lahari and Mithun Chakravarty’s hit jodi? Well, this movie marks the beginning of a new era. Bappi’s son Bappa Lahari has given music, and the way he has lifted music from Eminem’s Shake that Ass is truly heart warming. Like father, Like son, eh? In other Lahari trivia, I have it from reliable sources that the next generation of the Lahai kids would be named thus: Bappu, Bappey, Bappau…after which they’ll resort to numbers, for example Bap1, Bap2, Bap3. I hear its going top be a copyright thing.
A peek into the story, then. Jimmy (probably inspired by the hit song ‘Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy, Aaja, Aaja, Aaja’ from Disco Dancer), is, what else, but a dancer in a night club, trying to pay off his father’s huge loans. And with dialogues like “ Meri ek-ek saans aapke paas girvi rahegi…”, the movie has managed to take bollywood back to the eighties in one, swift moment. He is then told by the doctors that he has brain tumour. Really, the industry wallahs have to get a bit more imaginative. Anyhow, the latest update on the tally goes something like this:
Heroes affected by Tumour – 196
Heroes suffering from Cancer – 178
Other diseases – Zero, Zilch, Nada.
So yea, the hero is dying, and in love with a rich girl, and has a very rich best friend. The makers would have done better to name the movie Cliché. How the movie expected to do well in 2007 is beyond the realms of logic. Then the movie gets…..well, interesting. And no, I don’t easily give up on being sarcastic. Jimmy takes responsibility of a murder, so that his mother can receive the money from the real killers, and then finds out he isn’t dying, after all. So, thus happens the prison break and the search for the real killers. A must watch, but only if all the video libraries in the world have shut shop and your life depends on watching a movie, and this is the only disc available. Although some might disagree, but somehow, I don’t thinks its bad enough to stop living anymore. But then, that’s just my personal belief.
Thursday, September 09, 2010
Jaani Dushman - Ek Anokhi Kahani (fo sho!)
Jaani Dushman is, without doubt, the most fitting tribute to Indian cinema, encompassing everything it stands for – There is mythology, tales of friendship, strong family ties, pure, malice-free love, rape attempts, the villain transforming into a Terminator inspired metallic dude, his ability to change form, run on water, fly on a bike, etc etc. The director must have, I imagine, though of giving the film everything he could – only he ended up giving it so much that the audience just could not take it, and the janitors had to be called to remove them from the aisles where they were rolling from laughter. Not all of them though. Some had to be given medical help, while others are expected to come out of their comas very soon.
This Rajkumar Kohli movie is a hybrid of sorts of two movies, Nagin and Jani Dushman, which came out in the 70’s and were made by the same guy. The movie is about a group of 40 year old college going…err.. ‘kids’, namely Sunny Deol, Suniel Shetty, Akshay Kumar, Arshad Warsi, Sonu Nigam, Manisha Koirala (who definitely looks pregnant), Rambha and other assorted “actors” (yea, right!) trying to save their careers through this multi starrer and extremely ambitious movie. If only they knew…..Anyhow, so yea, Sunny and Manisha are in love, but there are certain bad elements in the group, read: Rajat Bedi and Siddharth, who try to sexually molest Manisha ( I swear, at her size, she’d be the one molesting them!!). They get caught, and after the customary dhishum dhishum, thanks to Sunny and co., they ask for forgiveness. This is the dialogue between the group of friends that ensues:
“Shetty: Come on Divya, maaf kar de galti kisi se bhi ho sakti hai.
Monisha: Agar ye harkat kisi ne Priety ke saath ki hoti to tum kya karte.
Shetty: Haath paar tod deta, lekin filhaal tumse haath jodke maafi mang rahe hain yaar. Maaf karde
Akshay Kumar: Divya, ek baat kahe tum jaisi khoobsurat ladki ko dekhkar ek mare hue aadmi ka bhi dil dhadak uthe fir to ye jeete jaagte naujawan hain inka kya haal hoga.
Sonu Nigam: Divya, jahan sab log tumhe itna mana rahe hain, wahan tumhe man lena chahiye. Naheen to hum samjhenge tumhe aapni khoobsoorati pe kuch zyada garoor hain. Come on please…maaf kar do unhe.”
Hmm, the ideal conversation after a rape attempt..…..True Friends. Where would we be without them?
The Coup de Grace, though, are the special effects. Matrix and Terminator are taken to be the benchmarks by the director, and he pulls of the Great Indian Cop – y Trick, by cheap reshoots of stunts, which leave your palms sweaty and your brain numb. Mostly because you were repeatedly hitting your brain with those palms for allowing yourself to watch this travesty.
So the baddies finally do get to violate Manisha (try, try and try…..eh?), and she commits suicide. But then comes the big twist. Unknown to everybody, and I’m sure the when the story narration took place, even the director, Manisha was an icchadhari Nagin in her past life, and had a lover, Munish Kohli, who was also suffering from the ichhadhari Serpent Syndrome. They led a good life, dancing on the mountains, hissing their way into each other’s hearts. But their dancing led to a sage’s home getting caved in (I would come up with more Fat Manisha jokes, but what’s the point?). The angry sage, Amrish Puri, holds Manisha responsible (obviously…talk about wisdom), and curses her to die. The crawly couple ask for forgiveness in a heart melting display of remorse, they play head drums for the angry sage, basically involving beating big rocks with their heads, while singing songs of forgiveness. He relents to some extent, and allows them to re- hook up in the 21st century. Phew!!
So its 21st century, the serpent lover is back, only to find she is dead, once again. However she lives on in spirit, and blames all her male friends for her death, vowing to avenge it. Which her former lover is too happy to do for her. Sigh….needless to say, they all start dying one by one until only Sunny and step brother Sonu are left. Their college principal, Raj Babbar, a catholic priest and yet somehow a follower of pagan rituals, helps Sunny defeat the enemy. What a story!
Watch it for what it is, a sci-fi action thriller that ended up being a comedy. Widely acknowledged to be the worst movie ever made, it goes really well if you have reached dizzying heights of boredom and want to chill with friends and a beer. Watch out for the beer coming out of your nostrils, though.
This Rajkumar Kohli movie is a hybrid of sorts of two movies, Nagin and Jani Dushman, which came out in the 70’s and were made by the same guy. The movie is about a group of 40 year old college going…err.. ‘kids’, namely Sunny Deol, Suniel Shetty, Akshay Kumar, Arshad Warsi, Sonu Nigam, Manisha Koirala (who definitely looks pregnant), Rambha and other assorted “actors” (yea, right!) trying to save their careers through this multi starrer and extremely ambitious movie. If only they knew…..Anyhow, so yea, Sunny and Manisha are in love, but there are certain bad elements in the group, read: Rajat Bedi and Siddharth, who try to sexually molest Manisha ( I swear, at her size, she’d be the one molesting them!!). They get caught, and after the customary dhishum dhishum, thanks to Sunny and co., they ask for forgiveness. This is the dialogue between the group of friends that ensues:
“Shetty: Come on Divya, maaf kar de galti kisi se bhi ho sakti hai.
Monisha: Agar ye harkat kisi ne Priety ke saath ki hoti to tum kya karte.
Shetty: Haath paar tod deta, lekin filhaal tumse haath jodke maafi mang rahe hain yaar. Maaf karde
Akshay Kumar: Divya, ek baat kahe tum jaisi khoobsurat ladki ko dekhkar ek mare hue aadmi ka bhi dil dhadak uthe fir to ye jeete jaagte naujawan hain inka kya haal hoga.
Sonu Nigam: Divya, jahan sab log tumhe itna mana rahe hain, wahan tumhe man lena chahiye. Naheen to hum samjhenge tumhe aapni khoobsoorati pe kuch zyada garoor hain. Come on please…maaf kar do unhe.”
Hmm, the ideal conversation after a rape attempt..…..True Friends. Where would we be without them?
The Coup de Grace, though, are the special effects. Matrix and Terminator are taken to be the benchmarks by the director, and he pulls of the Great Indian Cop – y Trick, by cheap reshoots of stunts, which leave your palms sweaty and your brain numb. Mostly because you were repeatedly hitting your brain with those palms for allowing yourself to watch this travesty.
So the baddies finally do get to violate Manisha (try, try and try…..eh?), and she commits suicide. But then comes the big twist. Unknown to everybody, and I’m sure the when the story narration took place, even the director, Manisha was an icchadhari Nagin in her past life, and had a lover, Munish Kohli, who was also suffering from the ichhadhari Serpent Syndrome. They led a good life, dancing on the mountains, hissing their way into each other’s hearts. But their dancing led to a sage’s home getting caved in (I would come up with more Fat Manisha jokes, but what’s the point?). The angry sage, Amrish Puri, holds Manisha responsible (obviously…talk about wisdom), and curses her to die. The crawly couple ask for forgiveness in a heart melting display of remorse, they play head drums for the angry sage, basically involving beating big rocks with their heads, while singing songs of forgiveness. He relents to some extent, and allows them to re- hook up in the 21st century. Phew!!
So its 21st century, the serpent lover is back, only to find she is dead, once again. However she lives on in spirit, and blames all her male friends for her death, vowing to avenge it. Which her former lover is too happy to do for her. Sigh….needless to say, they all start dying one by one until only Sunny and step brother Sonu are left. Their college principal, Raj Babbar, a catholic priest and yet somehow a follower of pagan rituals, helps Sunny defeat the enemy. What a story!
Watch it for what it is, a sci-fi action thriller that ended up being a comedy. Widely acknowledged to be the worst movie ever made, it goes really well if you have reached dizzying heights of boredom and want to chill with friends and a beer. Watch out for the beer coming out of your nostrils, though.
Join ISP - Now Rated #1 by nobody. UGC recognised - it as a school for scoundrels
(The following work is a piece of fiction, and the said school is an imaginary establishment the writer has invented to get his point across. The sorry state of politics depicted, however, is something the writer stands by.)
It’s final. The politicians of the country have decided to set up a new school dedicated to the art of politics, and the finer nuances of the profession in the country. The school, to be made on an undisclosed budget (at least until somebody files an RTI application for the information), would cut across party lines and will be for students of age 25 and above. There are no eligibility requirements, although a history sheeter, or a surrendered dacoit are given preference over normal hard working citizens. High educational qualifications are a deterrent, as the old-timers feel that politics can be best taught to an empty mind. And sometimes that emptiness can extend well beyond the completion of the course.
Courses would include lectures on how to duck serious media questions, how to prevent sting operations, the process of stashing away money, and the general practice of fooling the public. The students who excel in their first years will then go on to learn much more serious topics, like creation of Swiss bank accounts, poaching opposition party M.L.As, and the coup de grace of the school – Masters in Social Scandals. The school will also provide its students an extremely high fat diet, so that by the time they pass out, they have that extremely credible look of looking seven months pregnant, that common denominator among our politicians.
Apart from this, they will also be given special personality development classes aimed at making them hardly working, that all-important trait of a politician. Also, they will be taught how to wear dhoti-kurta and other traditional attires. Small matters of political science and foreign affairs do not figure on the list, for obvious reasons. Paan chewing and bribe taking societies are expected to flourish, and it will be a tradition that will make anything from taking a shower to deciding of the dinner menu subject to the amount the single highest bidder is prepared to pay to the concerned authorities. It will be seen as a matter of pride for whoever manages it, and it will add to the brownie points a person can earn.
It’s final. The politicians of the country have decided to set up a new school dedicated to the art of politics, and the finer nuances of the profession in the country. The school, to be made on an undisclosed budget (at least until somebody files an RTI application for the information), would cut across party lines and will be for students of age 25 and above. There are no eligibility requirements, although a history sheeter, or a surrendered dacoit are given preference over normal hard working citizens. High educational qualifications are a deterrent, as the old-timers feel that politics can be best taught to an empty mind. And sometimes that emptiness can extend well beyond the completion of the course.
Courses would include lectures on how to duck serious media questions, how to prevent sting operations, the process of stashing away money, and the general practice of fooling the public. The students who excel in their first years will then go on to learn much more serious topics, like creation of Swiss bank accounts, poaching opposition party M.L.As, and the coup de grace of the school – Masters in Social Scandals. The school will also provide its students an extremely high fat diet, so that by the time they pass out, they have that extremely credible look of looking seven months pregnant, that common denominator among our politicians.
Apart from this, they will also be given special personality development classes aimed at making them hardly working, that all-important trait of a politician. Also, they will be taught how to wear dhoti-kurta and other traditional attires. Small matters of political science and foreign affairs do not figure on the list, for obvious reasons. Paan chewing and bribe taking societies are expected to flourish, and it will be a tradition that will make anything from taking a shower to deciding of the dinner menu subject to the amount the single highest bidder is prepared to pay to the concerned authorities. It will be seen as a matter of pride for whoever manages it, and it will add to the brownie points a person can earn.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Give or (mis)Take.
To err is human. That is probably my favorite quotation. More than that, probably, i think its a sub-conscious defense to the many and frequent mistakes i invariably make. I am, after all, human. Which, as i was told, is to err. Its one of those superb self fulfilling theories that just leave your innards glowing with contentment at how the world functions, and one of the few things that give you actual happiness for being a part of it. Human error. That infallible defense i can take refuge in, hiding behind its various forms made to suit your specific needs. I could go on and on. I wont.
I was reading up on the human genome code project the other day. These guys have progressed further ahead than even the initiators of this project could have ever imagined. The gene for long age, auto-immune diseases, a melodious voice, an athletic disposition and so on. They can now tell you what are the chemical changes that occur in your body while you consume a chocolate bar. I wasn't really shocked to find that they are somewhat similar to a session of good sex. After all, from where I've seen it, a girl's reaction to chocolate are deadly similar to good sex. Grunts and moans included. What they aren't focusing on, however, and this is where I'd like to bring the entire thing about human error, is on the genetic components responsible for the deadly sins. Greed, lying, corruption, the works.
I'd have thought that, given the problems facing our society currently, corruption would rank higher than, say, auto-immune diseases. Or long lives. Frankly, i hardly think for the kind of creatures we've turned out to be immortality really is the answer. Unfortunately, some people are only allowed to live by their fellow men because of the knowledge that they will ultimately be claimed by death on its own volition. More of a waiting game, having patience and all that.
Hopefully, in another twenty years, anti corruption, greed and dishonesty vaccinations would start plying the markets. With added shots for responsibility and loyalty. Some day. I'm all for immortality then.
I was reading up on the human genome code project the other day. These guys have progressed further ahead than even the initiators of this project could have ever imagined. The gene for long age, auto-immune diseases, a melodious voice, an athletic disposition and so on. They can now tell you what are the chemical changes that occur in your body while you consume a chocolate bar. I wasn't really shocked to find that they are somewhat similar to a session of good sex. After all, from where I've seen it, a girl's reaction to chocolate are deadly similar to good sex. Grunts and moans included. What they aren't focusing on, however, and this is where I'd like to bring the entire thing about human error, is on the genetic components responsible for the deadly sins. Greed, lying, corruption, the works.
I'd have thought that, given the problems facing our society currently, corruption would rank higher than, say, auto-immune diseases. Or long lives. Frankly, i hardly think for the kind of creatures we've turned out to be immortality really is the answer. Unfortunately, some people are only allowed to live by their fellow men because of the knowledge that they will ultimately be claimed by death on its own volition. More of a waiting game, having patience and all that.
Hopefully, in another twenty years, anti corruption, greed and dishonesty vaccinations would start plying the markets. With added shots for responsibility and loyalty. Some day. I'm all for immortality then.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Lone.
Man is an island. Alone and self sufficient. Whatever it needs, it finds in itself. Trade routes exist, but only to taste the flavors of other islands, for variety, or merely to compare its internal processes in respect to the others that exist in its vicinity. It observes other cultures, it shares its fruits, it prohibits entry to those not worthy of entering it, but it remains, foremost, a single entity. Alone.
Drifting across a vast ocean, it frequently comes across other lands conducive to its survival. IT may linger on, as long as its attention is capable of being held, and then move on for greener pastures. For no matter how complimentary its new found surroundings might be, an island by its very definition cannot be tied down, or it loses its identity.
Rarely, almost impossible to find, is the island which, willingly, drops anchor for the rest of its existence. You can tell it from the unhappy islands that are forced to stay put from the surrounding waters. The waters around the happy islands are never calm, high tide, frothy waves, as if they want to be the fuel that moves the island. As much as the ocean may try, however, the island fights it, happily, knowing that the fight it puts up tells it how much it wants to stay. The much more frequently found unhappy island, in stark contrast, waits for that one powerful wave that will galvanize its stuck anchor, and it'll be free forever. It will never come.
No man is an island. For long.
Drifting across a vast ocean, it frequently comes across other lands conducive to its survival. IT may linger on, as long as its attention is capable of being held, and then move on for greener pastures. For no matter how complimentary its new found surroundings might be, an island by its very definition cannot be tied down, or it loses its identity.
Rarely, almost impossible to find, is the island which, willingly, drops anchor for the rest of its existence. You can tell it from the unhappy islands that are forced to stay put from the surrounding waters. The waters around the happy islands are never calm, high tide, frothy waves, as if they want to be the fuel that moves the island. As much as the ocean may try, however, the island fights it, happily, knowing that the fight it puts up tells it how much it wants to stay. The much more frequently found unhappy island, in stark contrast, waits for that one powerful wave that will galvanize its stuck anchor, and it'll be free forever. It will never come.
No man is an island. For long.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Unrequited
Remember the day
when we walked
in the midst of that forest
that never ending trail of green
stood on top of that crumbling shelter
and let the wind play with us
took detours through the woods
because the paths were not lonely anymore?
Do you remember
love, when it bloomed in each of us
inspired by the wild growth we stood in
I do.
I saw the love in your eyes, that day.
How i wish it was for me.
when we walked
in the midst of that forest
that never ending trail of green
stood on top of that crumbling shelter
and let the wind play with us
took detours through the woods
because the paths were not lonely anymore?
Do you remember
love, when it bloomed in each of us
inspired by the wild growth we stood in
I do.
I saw the love in your eyes, that day.
How i wish it was for me.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Self- Help/ Do it yourself
Posting something after a very long gap, and i'm afraid to say its the same topic as before. Self regulation, i think, is the best way to go about making this world a better place. but then, what do i know......
Why cant we just let it be?
The whole brouhaha ‘bout everything
From rights to religion to poverty.
Wouldn’t we be far, far better served
Worrying about our own respective selves,
And loved each other the way we are supposed to be loved.
I’m tired, really, and absolutely disgusted
With these self appointed guardians of causes,
Who work for their own gains, and can’t be generally trusted.
Who, thanks to the sheer lack of passion
Have pegged us back a few decades
And made failure a fashion.
The pretense of care and concern is driving me insane
Man is no more social, only an animal
And we have an all new meaning to the word humane.
I’m a society into myself first, and maybe then a part of another
And I know if I keep myself fair and just
For the world to be perfect, its completely up to the others.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Prayer
The grass green as only grass could be
Laden with dew, heart stirring beauty
And I crave to walk on it barefooted
But alas! That is not the life to which I’m suited
Waking up to a sun so serene and calm
My time is confined in the morning alarm
If I’m a bird, my wings aren’t flapping
And I wonder if to this life I owe these trappings
I would love to stare at the sun rays endlessly
But the flight of time precious is all I get to see
all for the cause of earning a name
But a name without identity? Well, pretty lame.
could I break free from these societal norms?
take up the challenge and wither the storms?
lets face it, I could be rich and well known
but so what? even in that list, I wont be alone.
so, dear god I just ask thee
make me whatever, just make me happy.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Plea To God.
Not trying to be modest or self-effacing, just not me, but heres another feeble attempt at poetry. I sincerely believe there has to be a method under the madness, a design to God's actions. otherwise, we're just hanging by a thread.........depressing thought, but, well, what the heck.
Strange isnt't it, that we slog through a life
thats precariously balanced at the edge of a knife
and long with all our hearts for all things shining,
and wimps that we are, at every failure cribbing and whining
that we make attempts at immortality
knowing perfectly well death is the only finality.
Lives spent to achieve glory, undeserved greatness
with no real work, another life wasted, another lived less.
And yet the wise revel in anonymity,
wondering if its them or everybody else who deserves the pity.
Where hard work plays a role conspicuous by absence
rickshaw pullers toil for food, while criminals rise to affluence
Happy families broken apart by natural calamities
Unhappy families forced to live together, the most evil of atrocities.
The powerless end up just and fair at the end of the day
while honesty is the price for power you have to pay
Tell me, God, Are we ever to understand the dices you roll?
coz well, there, thats my plea, i've more than bared my soul.
Strange isnt't it, that we slog through a life
thats precariously balanced at the edge of a knife
and long with all our hearts for all things shining,
and wimps that we are, at every failure cribbing and whining
that we make attempts at immortality
knowing perfectly well death is the only finality.
Lives spent to achieve glory, undeserved greatness
with no real work, another life wasted, another lived less.
And yet the wise revel in anonymity,
wondering if its them or everybody else who deserves the pity.
Where hard work plays a role conspicuous by absence
rickshaw pullers toil for food, while criminals rise to affluence
Happy families broken apart by natural calamities
Unhappy families forced to live together, the most evil of atrocities.
The powerless end up just and fair at the end of the day
while honesty is the price for power you have to pay
Tell me, God, Are we ever to understand the dices you roll?
coz well, there, thats my plea, i've more than bared my soul.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Who's what
So you are a pupil, dragging your feet to school
raw and naive, yet nobody's fool
or a youth on a mission, in search of answers
frusrated, like a limb-less dancer...
or a man of some experience, no more young, not yet old
have your share of treasures in paper, now in search of gold
Or maybe a man of middle age, and life's come to stagnation
its all about managing funds and stocks and rations
or maybe a young girl, daddy's li'l princess
who cares about distance in miles, its still all about reducing inches
or maybe a female counterpart to our middle aged man
and all life seems is work, fun is a loser, just another also ran......
or maybe none of these, in transition between two
or maybe creating another identity, completely new
engrossed in your life, not a moment to spare
and stop and smell the roses? well, u dont dare.....
pause my friend, each breath taken is one less breath
LIVE today, before you submit to death
its not life to go through the motions
and not update your mind's notions
for all the treasures of the world are futile
if they cant procure you a smile
life should be such that you wont want to mend
when we get our call, and its finally our time to end.
raw and naive, yet nobody's fool
or a youth on a mission, in search of answers
frusrated, like a limb-less dancer...
or a man of some experience, no more young, not yet old
have your share of treasures in paper, now in search of gold
Or maybe a man of middle age, and life's come to stagnation
its all about managing funds and stocks and rations
or maybe a young girl, daddy's li'l princess
who cares about distance in miles, its still all about reducing inches
or maybe a female counterpart to our middle aged man
and all life seems is work, fun is a loser, just another also ran......
or maybe none of these, in transition between two
or maybe creating another identity, completely new
engrossed in your life, not a moment to spare
and stop and smell the roses? well, u dont dare.....
pause my friend, each breath taken is one less breath
LIVE today, before you submit to death
its not life to go through the motions
and not update your mind's notions
for all the treasures of the world are futile
if they cant procure you a smile
life should be such that you wont want to mend
when we get our call, and its finally our time to end.
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