Dragging Mira's name(sake) thru the mud

During my pre-movie research of 'The Namesake', I found out to my absolute horror that initially Mira Nair had wanted Rani Mukherjee and Abhishek Bachchan to play the parts of Tabu and Kal Penn respectively. However, it was only after watching it that I could totally see how brutally our friendly neighbourhood Bunty and Babli would have murdered the movie.

So here is Sayesha Smitten showbiz kitten, taking you back in time to an afternoon in the living room of Mira Nair, while she is in discussion with Rani Mukherjee and Abhishek Bachchan about her upcoming movie 'The Namesake'.

Mira - Thank you for coming over to hear the script, Rani and Abhishek.

Rani - Thanks, Mira. It's a great honour to finally meet you. We were wondering why you considered us for your movie, since you never cast mainstream Bollywood actors.

Abhishek - Oh yeah, is it because we’re over-rated, incompetent idiots who can’t get out of the lame and dreamy world of Bollywood and do some real acting?

Mira – Errr… let’s start off with the basic plot of the movie. It's about this man Ashoke Ganguli who marries a girl called Ashima and they migrate to the US. They have a son whom they name Gogol Ganguli. It's about the journeys of three people - of Ashok who's trying to set up home and hearth in the US, of Ashima who's trying to know and love the stranger that she got married to, and of Gogol who's trying to live a normal life with an abnormal name. Here, take a look at the script.

Rani and Abhishek flip through the script.

Rani - So tell me, what are the songs like?

Mira - Oh yeah, we have a couple of nice slow numbers, mostly lullaby-types in Bengali with minimum accompaniments.

Rani - Oh no, not that. That is toh the background score. I'm talking about real songs.

Mira - Real songs?? What do you mean?

Abhishek - Arre Rani, Mira's not familiar with how Bollywood movies work yaar!

Rani - Oh sorry! Mira, I meant the dhikchik dhikchik songs.

Mira - Huh??

Rani - And you should totally get Aish for the item number! She did the Kajrare number in Bunty aur Babli, and it was such a hit! And you know what's the best part?

Mira - What?

Rani (winks at Abhishek) - She'll give you a discount! Hubby-to-be's in the movie, you see.

Abhishek (smiles at Rani) - Awww you! But I need to ask Mom and Dad first.

Rani - Yeay! Do it now, do it now!

Mira - Uhh...

Abhishek calls Amitabh and Jaya Bachchan, and talks to them in hushed tones.

Abhishek - Okay, I spoke to them. Done. They agreed. Of course we will discuss the fee later. Dad will call you about that. But you have to film the item number before 20th April.

Rani - Why's that?

Abhishek - Oh, because Mom and Dad wouldn't allow Aish to wear item song clothes after the wedding na...

Rani - Oh yeah, I totally understand.

Mira – Guys! Guys! Listen to me! There isn’t going to be an item number!

Rani & Abhishek - WHAT?! A movie without an item number? Does that happen? What did you call us for?

Mira - Well, I wanted a Bengali actress to play the part of Ashima. And I thought Abhishek would fit the role of Gogol.

Rani - Wait a minute now, I'm Ashima and Abhi is Gogol?

Mira - Yeah, why?

Rani - I play Abhi's MOTHER in the movie???

Abhishek (under his breath) - Oh boy.

Mira - Errr... yeah.

Rani - And who plays my husband?

Mira - Irfan Khan.

Rani - Who the hell is that?

Mira - Errr... here. (Shows Irfan's portolio)

Rani - This guy??? This guy plays my husband??? I cannot believe this! Mira, you're getting this dorky fella to play MY husband??

Abhishek - Errr.. Rani, calm down. Give him a chance yaar. You remember who played your husband in 'Raja ki aayegi baaraat'?

Rani - That was when I wasn't a star! And you shut up, Abhi, you're not being asked to play a 45-year-old woman!

Mira - So are you saying you wouldn't consider the part?

Rani - Would you consider kicking out this Irfan guy and getting Hrithik?

Mira - No way. No one but Irfan is playing Ashoke.

Rani - Well, if that's the case, I think I'll go for Karan's 'Kabhi Alwida Na Kehna' instead. The storyline sucks but I get to wear Manish Malhotra's costumes. Oh wait, are you by any chance getting Manish Malhotra to design the costumes in your movie?

Mira - Err.. no, I don't think so.

Rani - Well, that's settled. Good bye then.

Mira - Uh... bye?

Abhishek - Hmmm... well? Let's move on to my role?

Mira - Okay, but before we discuss further, I must tell you there's some nudity in one of your scenes. Do you want to call Aishwarya's family and ask them if they're okay?

Abhishek - Naah, I can do anything. It's only Aish who can't have such things after our wedding. Indian tradition, you see.

Mira (dryly) - Sure... I see...

Abhishek - So who's going to replace Rani then?

Mira - Errr... I'll have to ask Konkona or Tabu then.

Abhishek - Hmmm... any other options? Someone more glamorous?

Mira - Like?

Abhishek - I dunno... Mallika? Then I can run and run and run!

Mira - I don't think so.

Abhishek - By the way, are you serious about the whole 'no item number' thing?

Mira - Of course I'm serious, Abhishek!!!

Abhishek - Ok ok calm down. Just checking baba. So there's no item number... In that case, you think you can give Aish the role of Maxine?

Mira (looks aghast) - What?! Maxine's role to Aishwarya?? No, I can't!

Abhishek - Why not??

Mira - Because... geez... because Maxine is an American girl, Abhishek!

Abhishek (looks at his nails and sulks) - Oh, but Aish is considered pretty international, you know.

Mira (holds head in hands) - No, Abhi, no. Aish can't play Maxine.

Abhishek - Hmm... well, I may have trouble accepting the role then... cos I have to find work for Aish na... you know how it is... in Bollywood no one wants to cast married actresses.. so I told her that she wouldn't have to look for work after the wedding. I'd get her roles in my movies. Also, I can keep an eye on her, you know. I mean with Salman out of jail and all that...

Mira - Sigh... Would Aishwarya want to play Moushumi instead?

Abhi - Sure, why not! Oh wait! (Looks at script). Naah, nude scene. We go back to Maxine's part for her?

Mira - No no no! And NO!

There is an awkward silence in the room, followed by the sound of Abhi keying in Rani's number on his mobile phone.

Rani - Oh hi, Abhi! So are you taking up the weird movie?

Abhi - Hey, do you think you can get me a role in that movie of Karan's you're doing?

Rani - Of course! You know Karan. He'll kick anyone out to cast a friend. No problem, I'll tell him.

Abhi - Thanks a ton, Rani! You're such a good friend!

Mira is sitting on the couch, still holding her head in her hands.

Mira - So?

Abhishek - Mira, don't mind ok? I think I'll give it a pass. Catch you later. Byee!

Mira (slowly waves at him without looking up, and then mutters under her breath) - Sigh... And they ask me why I don't hire mainstream Bollywood actors for my movies.

Will, you go to Khandala?

Considering the insane amounts of time I spend on Youtube, I've decided to do a weekly feature on my blog, of some of the best videos I discover. To start off the eve of this long weekend, the 'Video of the week' is Will Smith singing 'Aati kya khandala' on Indian Idol. I found it especially captivating because of the earnestness with which he tries to sing the words correctly. At the same time, you can see he's totally enjoying himself.



Video courtesy mannu530

And as I ooh'ed and ah'ed over how adorable Will Smith is in this video, I had a thought - why is it that when an Indian sings like an American, he's "aping the west", but when an American sings like an Indian, he is "CHO CHWEET" and "HOW CUUUUTE"? Is it that all we have are apes but nothing ape-worthy? (Errrm, no offense to the Indian cricket team.)

Well, maybe it will happen. Maybe one day in the future, American parents would be complaining, "Damn globalisation! Damn TV! The kids of today are so Indianised! They eat at home, do well in exams, respect their parents, and have like 'culture' and 'values' and stuff. Sheesh. All this aping of the east... what will happen to the future of this Zee TV generation??"

Amen.

Underwater world

Splash! Splash! Splash!

"Hmmm....."

"What hmmmm..?"

"I wonder if I'll drown if I try to stand in the deep end."

"You won't drown. Go ahead and stand. It's a good start to get over that fear."

"Naah, it looks too deep, I'll drown."

"You won't drown, you moron! "The deep end is 1.6 m. That's 160 cm. You're 165 cm tall. You do the math."

"Naah, I think I'm too short for this pool."

"Gosh, no one is 'too short for a pool'!"

"Oh yeah? Then explain why models wear high heels with their swimsuits, huh huh huh?"

"Sheesh!"

Yupp, this was me, having a conversation with myself in the swimming pool a couple of hours ago, while the kids playing badminton near the pool wondered why 'that aunty in the black and pink swimsuit was swimming like a dog'.

They say that children often attribute their phobias to something bad that happened in their childhood. I wonder if my phobia of water - specifically that of putting my head under water - has anything to do with the long pink dress I wore at my school play in 1985.

So as I mentioned, it was 1985, I was 5 and getting ready for my school play. It was a musical and I was one of the girls in the long frilly pink dresses being woo'ed by the little guys in black suits and bowties. I even remember bits of the song, "I'll give you a bouquet of roses. Will you marry, will you marry, will you marry me?" We girls had to act all coy and sing "I won't marry, I won't marry, I won't marry you!" Finally when the boys got down on their knees with "diamonds" and sang "I'll give you a diamond ring. Will you marry, will you marry, will you marry me?" we had to sing, "I will marry, I will marry, I will marry you." The problem was that I hated my partner (let's call him Chintu). Chintu would pull my hair, and hide my pencils and chase me around the classroom with a bug. And so, the teachers had a tough time when incidentally Chintu was paired with me.

So Chintu would put forth the diamond and I'd shriek, "I won't marry, I won't marry, I won't marry you!"

"No Sayesha, you have to say "I will marry, I will marry, I will marry you." my teachers would plead.

"I won't marry, I won't marry, I won't marry you!"

It was a nightmare. For my teachers too, but more so for me. I hated the sight of Chintu. But there was a silver lining, and that was my dress. It was a long pink frilly gown kind of a dress that the teachers had commissioned for all of us, and I loved it to bits. I think it was what got me through the final performance. To tell the truth, looking at him, down on his knees, pleadingly holding the diamond, I had half a mind to deliver a nice kick but it didn't go with my dress so I abandoned the idea and very indignantly said, "I will marry, I will marry, I will marry you."

And my teachers, hidden in the wings, finally breathed.

The best part was - the dresses had been individually stitched for us, so we got to keep them! I was ecstatic. I told my mom that I wanted to wear it on a really nice occasion. So when I took it out for a family picnic to some lake, my mom was aghast.

"It's too fancy for this picnic, my dear. You should wear something more comfortable."

"No no no no no I wanna wear this I wanna wear this I wanna wear this!" You could see that the rhythm of my school dance had not left me yet.

I cried so hard that Mom had to let me wear it. My evil cousin Sid kept tugging the bows and frills on the way - he was totally amused. Considering that he was 4, I did not punch him.

So here we were, boating on this lake, and I was sitting on the edge enjoying the view. At the end of the trip, when the boat reached the bank, it didn't do so quite smoothly. The boat kinda collided with the steps at the bank and... SPLASH! next thing I know I'm in the water.

It was totally scary - the only thing that would come close was my recent bungy-jump stunt. The water was not as shallow as one would think. I went totally underwater at first, and then somehow struggled back up. My dress not only weighed me down, it also got entangled in some aquatic plants. Somehow I managed to free it, upon which it proceeded to form a balloon-like structure around me, which I believed was instrumental in saving my life. Anyway, many hands were extended and I was pulled up, soaking wet, and really really freaked out.

After about half an hour of crying - most of which was because the damn dress wouldn't dry - Sid got me an ice-cream. I remember because it was the nicest thing he'd done for me. Ever.

I wonder if that boating incident was what made me scared of water. Come to think of it, I'm not scared of water per se, I can snorkel comfortably and all that, but if my face goes underwater without any artificial breathing mechanism, I panic. Which is a real pity because swimming (correctly) is such a good whole body workout. Much as I love my weekly badminton session, there's nothing as refreshing and relaxing as swimming - working out without working a sweat.

And so for the exercise value, I continue to go to the pool three times a week. Except for the conversations I have with myself, I think I'm doing okay. I have mastered my own versions of swimming freestyle and breaststroke without having to put my head under water.

Hell, I have even come up with my own cool 'strokes' that can be performed with ease if you suffer from the same weird underwater phobia as me.

Crocodile stroke, anyone?

A lesson learnt

So I was chilling at home on Friday night when I received an sms from the enrichment centre where I used to teach kids like a million years ago. They wanted to know if I was free to take two classes on saturday as their regular teacher was ill. I'm on their replacement teachers' list because as an editor of school textbooks, I know the Singapore syllabus inside out. I love teaching kids at that centre, I get to carry out a lot of activities, the class sizes are beautifully small so I get enough time to focus on each kid, and of course, the icing on the cake - the kids make me laugh. Not just 'laugh' laugh, but sometimes ROFL-laugh. Of course I do the ROFL-ing bit only in my head, cos I'm their teacher. Dignity and all that.

My first lesson on saturday was early in the morning with a bunch of four six-year-olds, and the topic was 'animal body coverings'. Not wanting to suddenly throw an abstract concept like that at the tiny tots, I decided to warm up by talking about their pets so I could go on to ask if they had observed the body coverings of their pets.

So I asked the class, "So do any of you have pets?" All hands shot up.

The first one refused to answer. Thankfully, the second one did.

"I have a dog." He said.

"And is it a big dog?" I asked.

"No."

"Oh okay, a small one?"

"No, medium-sized."

After the laughter in my head subsided, I continued to the next one who was literally jumping up and down with her hand raised.

"I have fishes."

"Oh wow. How many?"

"Many."

"Errrm ok. What colour are they?"

"Colourful."

"Hmmm."

So I moved on to the third one.

"I don't have any pets, but my aunt has four dogs and her maid stole two of the dogs and ran away and she also stole my aunt's purse and ran away you know with the two dogs and the purse."

Finally the kid paused for breath. Listening to this kid kinda reminded me of the "kuchh log kam bolte hain, kuchh zyada" Hutch ad.

Anyway, I continued with the lesson, which went through smoothly and moved on to maths.

"Any questions?" I asked after solving a problem on the whiteboard.

"Miss Sayesha, why is Miss S not here today?"

"Miss S is ill."

"What happened to her?"

"I don't know."

"Does she have fever?"

"I don't know."

"Then what happened to her?"

"I don't... have you finished question 4?" I asked sternly.

Phew.

The class ended at 11 am, and I moved to another classroom for my next lesson which was with primary 4 kids.

The topic was 'Water pollution and water conservation' and I was going to demonstrate to them how soil washed into the rivers affects photosynthesis in aquatic plants. I was gonna draw a green plant on a paper plate, place a glass of water on it and ask the kids if they could see the plant through the glass. Next, I was going to add some soil to the glass of water and then ask them the same question. The activity was to teach them that soil in the water can block sunlight from reaching the aquatic plants and kill them.

I decided to ask one of the kids to draw the plant instead of drawing it myself. Sometimes it's more fun to let the kids do parts of the activity. It involves them more. Besides, it's no fun if teacher does everything.

"Okay, I want someone to draw a small green plant in the centre of this plate."

A boy volunteered.

"What kind of a plant?"

"An aquatic plant. A hydrilla maybe?"

"You want a leaf or a plant?"

"I want a plant."

"How many leaves?"

"Upto you. How many do you want?"

So he took the green marker and drew what looked exactly like a grasshopper. The other kids started giggling uncontrollably. So I decided to add a fifth leaf on the top to make it look more like a plant. The rest of the activity went off peacefully.

We moved on to another one where I showed the kids how oil spills in the sea can affect marine birds. I had two glasses - one with water and one with a layer of oil on water. I dipped a feather into each, and then placed them on blotting paper. The kids had to observe how the water dried off the feather but the oil did not, and infer that the oil clumps the birds' feathers together, making them unable to fly.

"So tell me kids, how do oil spills affect marine birds?" I asked at the end of the activity.

One hand shot up.

"The stink!" He said excitedly.

"Hmmm... I'm sure the stink bothers the birds, but they face a much more immediate problem. What is that?"

"The bird sticks to the oil and can't fly!" Another one said.

"No! The bird doesn't stick to the oil! The oil sticks to the bird!" said a girl, sending the class into a hysterical fit of laughter.

Sheesh.

"Okay okay." I somehow managed to calm the class down, wondering who were crazier - six-year-olds or ten-year-olds.

After science, we moved on to maths. After introducing it, I wrote the word 'trapezium' on the whiteboard so that they would not misspell it when they wrote it in their worksheets.

One hand shot up.

"Miss, what is that after 't'?"

"What do you think it is?"

"An 'r'?"

"Yeah, that's an 'r'."

"Why does it look so funny?"

"Funny?"

"Yeah, it looks so funny."

"Well, you can read it, can't you?"

"Yes, but why is your 'r' so funny?"

The 'r' may have been funny, but the situation so wasn't. All the kids had stopped writing and were gaping at me, waiting for me to explain why my 'r' was so funny. I have no idea how I got out of that one.

Finally, at 1.45 pm, I wrapped the lesson. The kids went home, waving crazily, "Bye, Miss! Bye, Miss! See you, Miss!"

And as I saw them leave, I wondered what the deal was with teaching and me. Do I love it? Do I hate it? I've done it on and off for many many years now, but I can never imagine myself being a fulltime teacher. At many points in my life, I have paused to wonder if teaching is my true calling. And the lesson learnt at the end of the day was always the same - no.

In some ways, teaching these kids reminds me of engineering.

I may be qualified to do it, but I just can't see myself doing it every day of the week.

New kid on the blog

Sayesha: I wanna talk to her.

Apa: You wanna talk to her?!

Sayesha: Yes yes, put her on!

Apa: Put her on?! This is yahoo messenger!

Sayesha: I know I know. Give her the keyboard!

*pause*

Sayesha: Wat is the background noise??

Apa: What?

Sayesha: Wat is the khat pat sound?

Apa: oh she's trying to type.

Sayesha: She's trying to type???? Hahahaha! Let her type! Teach her to press the enter key.

Apa: No no, she broke the enter key the last time.

Sayesha: But I wanna see what she typed.

Apa: Btw, I just saw the new pics you sent. U look great.

Sayesha: Oh u saw? Did you like the sari I wore?

Apa: gfggf ftr ftgrgbbbg

Sayesha: Eh? What??

Apa: gdgfgdhhdhdsggd

Sayesha: Ohhhhh! Hiiii, Aishu!

Apa: lklkl ii

Sayesha: hahahaha! more more! masi wants more!!!

Apa: 6fc mn

Sayesha: Hahahaa! She knows how to use the space bar! Smart girl!

Apa: bas! no more.

Sayesha: Oh you're back?

Apa: yes, it's time for her nap.

Sayesha: noooooooooooooooo! u're taking her away???

Apa: yemnsmn

Apa: hhy

Sayesha: hahahahaha!

Sayesha: hey don't take her away!

Apa: nn bbbbbbbbb

Sayesha: See? She doesn't wanna go! You stay put, baby!

Apa: sh,e,m

Sayesha: hahahaha! She's using punctuation! And making very intellectual statements too.

Apa: m, mmhh

Apa: t

Sayesha: hahahaha! You go, girl!

Apa: gxzcdfaaaac

Sayesha: wow that was a looong word! shabash baby!

Apa: yulxsxsxa

*long pause*

Sayesha: hello? u there? anybody home? Apa? Aish?

*long pause*

Sayesha: Le gayi! Hmmmph! Okay fine, bye! :/

















Looking at how tech-savvy baby Aish is becoming, I guess it won't be long before I have a new reader on my blog.

Gosh, it's gonna take ages to baby-proof the bar! :O
Watch out, bewdas, baby on board!

The rainbow and the pot of gold

So I was watching an old episode from Scrubs - season 1, when something caught my attention. By the time I blinked, the object of my attention had disappeared. But my suspicions had been aroused and so I made a straight dive for IMDB.com.

Holy cow. I was right.

The nervous microscope-holding lab technician Franklyn who probably had a total screen time of maybe five and a half seconds on Scrubs was none other than the very popular Hiro Nakamura on the TV series 'Heroes'!










I don't really follow 'Heroes'. Maybe cos I just don't like any of the 'heroes' in it. Except of course, Masi Oka who plays Hiro Nakamura. He's the best. If he was the only 'hero' in the show, I'd glue myself to the TV. But I only come across the show during channel-surfing. If I see him on the screen, I pause just enough to watch his scene and then continue surfing.

From being the token Asian guy on Scrubs to the golden globe nomination for Heroes, Masi Oka has come a long way. And I started to think about what his thoughts would have been when he'd auditioned for the role of the lab technician in 2001. Would he have thought that he would get noticed, get a bigger role, be talked about, get interviewed, and have gazillions of adoring fans (including celebrities like Tyra Banks)? Would he have looked at the lab tech role as one the things you have to do to get into showbiz (a la Joey playing Al Pacino's butt double in Friends) or was it just a source of money in hard times? Did he ever think he would 'strike gold' like this? Was it a planned move - a dream he achieved - or was it a 'Take it as it comes' strategy? Was it persistence or was it sheer good luck?

Then I started to think of other people whose lives had also turned around like this, bringing in success and prosperity. Think Saif in his 'Aashiq Awara' days. Think Shilpa Shetty in her leopard tights prancing around SRK in Baazigar. Think Rani singing the 'Yeh meri sasural hai' song in 'Raja ki aayegi baarat'. It took time, but they've all struck gold, they're all in a better place now. So at first glance, the lesson seems to be - no matter what your dream is - that great job, that great fortune, that great love - if you never give up, you will eventually strike gold.

In an ideal world, yes.

But in the real world - how many of us strike gold - fulfill all our dreams - before we die? How many of us already have had our lives turned around? How many of us will have our lives turned around in the future? Is it really a cosmic rule that each of us will make it big after the initial struggle? How long does the initial struggle take? What is the 'big thing' that's going to happen to us? How big is the big thing? Do we have to do something or will it happen on its own? How golden is the gold we're going to strike? Is it going to be shinier than my neighbour's gold? Who will strike it first? Will it be my gold or will I have to share it? When I see it, will I recognise it as the gold, or will there be smaller misleading pots of gold on the way? I These are all questions that pop up in our minds, but we brush them aside because they make us uncomfortable.

My sister showed me some of the parenting websites she visits. She has subscribed to a weekly newsletter personalised based on when the subscriber's baby was born. So your seventh issue is all about your baby's seventh week, and what the baby should be doing by then. My niece seems to be doing everything the newsletter says she should be, in the correct order. Looks like they have figured out the steps and their correct timing of what babies should be doing at each stage of their lives. But is there something similar for us grown-ups? After the nappy happy days of sitting up, crawling, walking and talking, what’s next? Is there a newsletter somewhere that says "You are now forty. By now you should be doing blah blah..." and if we're not doing that blah-blah perhaps we're on the wrong path?

Life is tough. We're taking risks all the time, hoping that one/some of them would pay off. But what if the risks don't pay off? We can always make idealistic statements like "Oh but you have to take the risk. Otherwise you're not doing enough." but the truth will hit us hard on the face - some risks are wrong decisions. Yes, you pick yourself up, scrape the dirt and move on, but what's next? And when? What if you walk and walk till you reach the end of the rainbow, and there is no gold and no time to walk any further? Would your life be a story worth telling?

Many of my friends have jumped into the MBA bandwagon. Maybe that's their ticket to turning their lives around. Maybe a few years later, I'd be holding Forbes magazine and proudly telling people "This XYZ used to sit on the floor of my living room and have my home-cooked pav bhaji. Now he's the CEO of Google and the bugger refuses to recognise me." It's true - some people seem to have it all figured out. They don't go "Uhhh.. ummm..." when asked at an interview "Where do you see yourself in twenty years?" They have specific, well-defined dreams for a perfect life. Dreams carefully calculated. Correct to two decimal places. The dream income, number and gender of kids, number (and gender) of spouses, number of houses, number of cars. Others have a vague idea – happy marriage, sufficient money, goodkid(s). Will it happen for all of them? If not, what about the rest? Will it never happen or will it take longer?

Let’s move idealism aside for a moment. In a life full of struggles, how many of us will really make that million bucks, win Wimbledon, climb the Everest, go to the Moon, get the perfect love, be a best-selling author? Aren't the sky and the earth too small to accommodate everyone's rainbows and pots of gold?

It's at times when questions like these pop up in my head that I see my own split personalities.

All three of them.

The optimist in me says everyone has a rainbow and a pot of gold. You just gotta keep going and eventually you will strike gold.

The pessimist in me says that some of us don't have rainbows to follow and pots of gold to discover, we are just part of the gold that others find at the end of their rainbows, we are meant to be the adoring fans instead of having them.

And the negotiator between the two says take life as it comes, but do remember to take some risks. If they don't turn out right, stand up for them still. And at the end if you don't strike gold, you just gotta look back at the good things and the good people that happened to you and call that your pot of gold.

Dil hai hindustani

Hum logon ko samajh sako toh samjho dilbar jani
Jitna bhi tum samjhoge utni hogi hairaani
Phir bhi dil hai hindustani
Phir bhi dil hai hindustani

Hanskar apni wicket gawaa de
Dekho hum hain kitne daani
Phir bhi dil hai hindustani
Phir bhi dil hai hindustani

Crucial match mein battakh banaayein
Apni hai yehi nishani
Phir bhi dil hai hindustani
Phir bhi dil hai hindustani

Jaate hi hum waapas aayein
Ajab se hain hum praani
Phir bhi dil hai hindustani
Phir bhi dil hai hindustani

Catch pakadkar drop karein
Hum hain kitne balidaani
Phir bhi dil hai hindustani
Phir bhi dil hai hindustani

Coach bechara sar phodey
Hum field pe karein manmaani
Phir bhi dil hai hindustani
Phir bhi dil hai hindustani

Tondu buddhe khel rahe hain
Team mein nahin jawani
Phir bhi dil hai hindustani
Phir bhi dil hai hindustani

Naye naye products endorsein
Par performance wohi purani
Phir bhi dil hai hindustani
Phir bhi dil hai hindustani

Jaisa channel, waisa panel
Us par Mandira devi sarwa-gyani
Phir bhi dil hai hindustani
Phir bhi dil hai hindustani

Ooparwale, thodi baarish de do
Kyunki dushman hai toofani
Phir bhi dil hai hindustani
Phir bhi dil hai hindustani

Apni aisi waat lag gayi
Ki hum na maange pani
Phir bhi dil hai hindustani
Phir bhi dil hai hindustani

Toss jeet kar game haarein
Pitch ho jitni bhi suhani
Phir bhi dil hai hindustani
Phir bhi dil hai hindustani

World Cup se toh kat liye
Apni hai yehi kahani
Phir bhi dil hai hindustani
Phir bhi dil hai hindustani

Ab India jaakar jaise taise
Jaan hai apni bachani
Phir bhi dil hai hindustani
Phir bhi dil hai hindustani

Chaar saal baad phir aayenge
Lekar naya josh, nayi rawani
Kyunki dil hai hindustani
Kyunki dil hai hindustani

TV se hum phir chipkenge
Bhoolke khana pani
Kyunki dil hai hindustani
Kyunki dil haiiiii hindustaaaaaani...

The Koffee addiction

Youtube ki jai ho!

I have not watched a single episode of Koffee with Karan on TV, but I have seen most on Youtube. The best part about watching it on Youtube is that you can forward all the boring parts, and when you reach a part where everyone is laughing, you can go back to see who-said-what-that-was-so-funny.

I believe that I have seen every episode that's on Youtube, and many a times, I have been totally surprised with the presence of mind and sense of humour exhibited by the Bollywood people. And sometimes, I feel like I end up liking some of them (whom I couldn't stand earlier) just because of their witty answers in the show.

So here they are, my favourite moments from Koffee with Karan:

Karan: In those days, there were these alleged link ups that got written about that were completely untrue...
Hema Malini: Hmm, they were all true. Only true link ups were there.

Karan: What would you do if you woke up as Karan Johar?
Shah Rukh: Going by the rumours, I think I'm more likely to wake up next to Karan Johar, rather than as Karan Johar.

Karan: The three of you have come a long way since Kuch Kuch Hota Hai. Kajol's come back with Fanaa, and Rani's done a great job in Black. So what do you have to say about Kajol and Rani now?
Shah Rukh: Well, it's very nice to see that I have TWO blind heroines now!

Karan: Who comes to your mind when I say 'Miss wannabe'?
Zeenat Aman: 'Miss wannabe' who-will-be - Mallika Sherawat.

Karan: Ekta Kapoor keeps killing off the characters and bringing in new ones.
Smriti: Once I told Ekta this is too much, how can I keep crying all the time? And she said you have to cry as my TRP goes up when you suffer.

Abhishek (down on his knees): Karan, I'll do anything for the coffee hamper!
Preity (batting her eyelashes): Me too, Karan, me too!

Karan: How is it to be a parent?
Shah Rukh: I wouldn't mind walking around in Spiderman tights for the rest of my life just for Aryan.

Karan to Shahid (during the compatibility quiz): An actor Kareena would never want to work with?
Shahid: Oh my god, do I have to answer this?
Karan: Yes you do.
Shahid: Okay, John Abraham.
Kareena returns.
Karan: An actor you would never want to work with?
Kareena: What?? He answered that??
Karan: Yes he did.
Kareena: Shahid, you answered that??
Shahid (shrugs)
Kareena: Errr… John Abraham?
Karan: Correct!
Kareena: Shahid, I still can't believe you answered that!

Karan: Worst piece of astrological advice you gave anyone?
Shah Rukh: Go ahead - make Paheli.

Amrita Arora: I wanted to become a nun.
Karan: But darling that's not what you are doing right now…
Malaika: She is doing 'nun' of it. Let's put it that way now.

Karan: Your first impression when you first saw 'Dil Chahta Hai'?
Hrithik: I was depressed! I was thinking, "How did Farhan get this way? Where had he been these six years? I want to go there. What books he has read? What has he been doing?"

Karan: I found out that you waited tables when you were a student out of the country. How was the experience?
Fardeen: I took orders and when I didn't understand what people asked for, I'd just pretend to know and write something. The chef would come out and yell at me.

Karan: Do you think Preity's attractive as a woman? With or without make up?
Saif: Well, some mornings...

Karan: I read somewhere that the Prince of Morocco proposed to you.
Soha: We should ask my parents that because they'll know more than me. Sometimes proposals come that are filtered.

Karan: Would you like your sister to marry the Prince of Morocco?
Saif: Nice summer holiday…

Karan: 15 years ago what did you think Saif would end up as?
Soha: I thought he would end up as a guitarist in a small band.

Mallika: I love the way Mr. Amitabh Bachchan runs.
Abhishek: I want to go run in front of her. I want to see that look. Baby - I can also run you know!

Karan: Sorry Abhishek, women don't find you as sexy as they find your dad.
Abhishek: I know. (broods) But see, the thing is - he's married, I'm single! And I'm just a mere reflection of my father. So if you can't get him, I'm the perfect substitute.

Kareena: Rani and I belong to different genres altogether.
Karan: Achha? What are you trying to say - your genre is?
Kareena: (helpless laughter)
Karan: No no tell me, I would like to know. What is your genre?
Kareena: BAD films?

Karan: What do you have to say about Amisha Patel's comment that she would never do a role like in Jism, because her grandmother wouldn't approve of it?
Bipasha: I think Amisha doesn't have the physical attributes to carry out a Jism. I wouldn't cast her.

Karan: Can Mallika Sherawat be the girl next door?
Mallika: If you want the girl next door, GO next door.

The Cup brimmeth over

Many of my non-Indian friends express shock at how long cricket matches are. Frankly speaking, even I find test matches too long and so I only watch one-dayers when India is playing. Of course, even one-dayers can seem long, and often, breaks are welcome. However, this year there are just too many annoying things interfering with the match.

So I decided to make a list of annoying things that I think this year's Cup is brimming over with.

• The two extra A's in EXTRAAA INNINGS. It really gets to me. Sounds like a cross between Ekta Kapoor and a bad classical singer.

• EXTRAAA INNINGS starting two full hours before the match, resulting in the experts having nothing to discuss but the microscopic details of the pitch for one full hour - the type of grass, the bugs, the fertilizers used, the name of the mali, and what not. Ufff!

• Emraan Hashmi in the Gopal pan masala ad. Like he needed anything else to make him sleazier than he is.

• Ahana Deol in the water filter ad with her big sis and amma. Not only does she look totally uncomfy before the camera, it's obvious amma is testing waters by putting daater number two before the audience.

• Abhishek Bachchan in all three ads - the air-conditioner, the fridge and the mobile phone. He has THREE ads and ALL of them are dumb??!!

• Preity Zinta in both the Santro and BSNL ads. What was she thinking?

• Sachin Tendulkar in the biscuit ad. "Ab har ghar mein Sachin"? What the...?!

• The tiger cartoon character that pops up whenever something significant happens. That chap doing bhangra is the most annoying because you can't even hear the commentary in the background.

• The chick who hosts the 'One in a billion' contest. "I'm having a blast! Thank you Sony TV for this wonderful holiday!" it seems. Someone please remind her she's there ON WORK! Can she do something more significant and relevant than playing golf in her high heels?
  

• Mandira Bedi. It's good to have a female perspective of the cricket World Cup, but not when the female perspective consists of bimbotic statements like "Ooh the Bangladeshi women love Charu Sharma!" and "Well, my clothes can fit in a matchbox." C'mon girl, you're sitting in a panel with experts - at least stop screaming "Yeay India!" every three minutes and be a tad objective.

Sigh. Give us a break from the breaks.

Mix and match

Finally, India and Pakistan are bonded in true brotherhood. The 'let-any-random-team-saunter-over-and-beat-us' brotherhood. I did not watch the match but I heard enough about it from the very upset man who I live with. When we started watching the match, he was excited, I was ho-hum. When India had wasted many many overs and made only about 100 runs, I asked Viv, "Yeh kya ho raha hai yaar? I think I wanna go to sleep."

"Hmmm..." He said, and suddenly out of the blue asked, "How many will India make?"

Him asking me that was really weird. I know less than 1% of the cricket he knows. But he looked really serious, as if he really expected me to come up with the magic number. But then he does believe that I can be freakily intuitive at times, which is a lot of pressure, I admit.

"192." I took a deep breath and answered fearlessly.

"Hmmm..."

"What do you think?" I asked.

"Hmmm... maybe around 210?" He said.

"Hmmm okay. Good night."

"You're really going to sleep?"

"Jeet jayenge yaar. Aise hi karte hain yeh log. Phir end mein jeet jaate hain." I said and went inside.

The next I heard from him was around 5 in the morning. "Waat lag gayi yaar." He said as he got into bed. I wasn't sure if I was dreaming so I did not reply. At a more usual morning hour, he gave me the details. So one of my predictions had turned out true (well almost, missed by only one run) and the other didn't quite make it.

It was called the day of upsets. And I had to deal with a very upset man in the house. You know the man is upset when he calls up his father-in-law and says, "I'm very upset." I'm sure my Dad must have freaked out thinking Viv had broken another hand or something, but when he found out what the upsetting news was, he found himself unable to console the chap. You see, my Dad is the kind of person who thinks that a wide ball is a ball that has a manufacturing defect, and a no ball happens when the ball is hit for a six so far they never really find it.

Viv also went to great lengths to describe how badly we played and how badly the teenagers from Bangladesh whacked us, and how badly in need of fitness our team is. I also had to hear in great detail how the layer of fat in Sehwag's belly bounced higher than the ball when he jumped after taking a catch.

And as the upset man described all this to me, I had a guilty feeling. The guilt of not feeling. And then it struck me - how detached I had become. Even though I still supported India, I would always support India, and would never be able to support any other team, even if India was knocked out. Not even countries that are close to my heart like Pakistan and New Zealand. And well, Cambodia doesn't play cricket so that's easy. But this time, I seemed to not even care about how India played. And that guilt was trickling in.

The last world cup had been so different. Viv and I were neighbours then. He lived in the flat opposite mine with two guys and I lived with two girls. We were all good friends and would gather in his flat to watch the world cup matches. On the days that India played, the guys would wear the team India T-shirts (I really wanted one, but they were too big. Besides, I hate T-shirts with collars. I wanted the team India cap very badly (still do) but somehow couldn't get my hands on one) and I'd either wear something Indian or wear something that had any of the tricolours. Even though I didn't know (still don't!) all the terms and rules of the game, I could sustain myself on the emotion that I felt for my team.

I remember applying for half-day leave for a match once, and my boss (who was also one of my closest friends at work) said, "I'd have suspected you're going to attend an interview with the competitors, but looking at your weird costume today, I think not." I grinned sheepishly. It was true - I was wearing a bright saffron T-shirt with some white text on it, and an army green short skirt. And dark blue shoes. But in those days, cricket made you so superstitious you lost all sense of fashion. I had put together all the colours of the Indian flag and I did not bother if they went together well or not. And hell, it was not even casual friday. And yet, somehow I did not care. You never know what could work with India (anyone remember the 'Whenever I wear a pink dupatta, Jadeja makes a century' ad from the ye olde days?). Even in school days, my sister and I would be watching the matches and if we played really badly, she'd say "Ok if we switch off the TV for 5 minutes, things will improve." And we would actually do it, and yes, things did improve!

During the last World Cup, India was playing rather badly in some match and just as I went to the toilet, Sachin hit a six. I still remember how Viv's flatmates insisted that I stay in the toilet for the next two overs. And I did. Only for one over though. The moment I stepped out, Sachin got out. Yeah, I got scolded as if it really was my fault. The freakiest part is - a part of me actually believed it was my fault.

And I guess that is why I got detached over the four years leading to this world cup. The superstitions, the suspense, the predictions, the heartbreaks - they were really getting to me. Not to mention the tears at the 2003 finals. I still remember the multiple face-washing sessions. It took me a very very very long time to get over the finals. And that's when I decided perhaps it was time for me to gently move away. All this was not good. It was exhausting and emotionally draining because that's all the mind could think of. Did I say mind? Cricket is not exactly a sport in which the mind has a say - it's a game of the heart. A game of heartbeats. A game of heartbreak. At times I actually wished it was simple, logical, practical. But it wasn't. I decided that I did not have to break away completely - perhaps I could just objectively watch a match or two (only those featuring India of course) but not get too involved especially during the World Cup.

And so I thought I could get by this World Cup without the madness of the last one. I was totally prepared for this year's World Cup - I was not going to get all upset no matter what happened to the Indian team.

But I guess my preparation was not enough. One match is all it took. One match which should have strengthened my decision to not get too emotionally involved, but the opposite happened. One match is all it took to bring out all the mixed feelings in me, to make me realise that cricket can never be about only one type of feeling - it's always a mix. The highs will be too high and the lows will be too low. That's how it is. Just one match, and I want to go over to the other side already. The side of upset people. The side of Viv and the likes of him. I think I belong there.

And sometimes being upset is not all that bad if you have someone to be upset with, nahin?