Football, guys

I waited till the Manchester United versus Chelsea game finished hoping to be sublimely inspired by classic football or impressive tactics.
Instead, I am pretty disgusted by the most talented and most highly paid sportsmen on the planet acting like a bunch of cry-babies, in the hope of getting an extra yard or free-kick.
Man Utd won and that should be the Premiership title done, but it was really sad to see such a bad example being set. I understand when shenanigans are the side-show, but for large parts of the game it was the main menu. Really sad.

Slumdog Millionaire

The plot of Slumdog Millionaire is a classic 1980’s Bollywood, Amitabh Bachchan-Shashi Kapoor, bhai- bhai scenario.
The use of Kaun Banega Crorepati as the setting updates the other Bollywood story-cliché the script employs – rags to riches (love, et al).
So why is it an Oscar contender? And why did it impress me so? Danny Boyle.
The director does a superb job of telling a preposterously unlikely tale in the most convincing manner. I don’t know if it’s a phirang-fixation, but see the flick and you’ll see what I mean.
Conceptually, Vikas Swarup’s book Q&A deserves the plaudits.

City that's made

In CP Surendran’s (editor, Times of India, Pune,) preface to his book Iron Harvest (now a bit old, but just read by me), he refers to Pune as – ‘a city on the make’.
I always claim injunction against such patronizing descriptions of my hometown. So I set about thinking whether Pune was in fact on the make, or, was it made? Mumbai, for example, is never on the make, because it’s always on the take.
It’s a matter of perspective. Money-wise, perhaps, Pune lags. In every other aspect though, it’s pretty much made. If only Pune realized that.

And all that jazz

A jazz festival took place in Pune and one of my buddies sent me the dirt. It took me back to my heady days as a music hack, when the late Homi Bhathena managed to put Pune on the Jazz Yatra itinerary and treat us to a sampling of pure jazz from across the world. Dubai where I reside also has a jazz fest, but it’s not so much jazz as music, as it is about using the word jazz to brand the gig. So next month James Blunt, John Legend and Spyrogyra will perform. See what I mean.

How deep is your love

John Travolta is one of my idols. For years as a teen I practiced to dance like him in SNF, and even nowadays, when my liver is properly lubricated (strange that connection between liver and legs) I can break out into an angst-driven jig to the Bee Gees.
So when Travolta’s son died, I felt pretty depressed, almost cried.
So now two days later, I notice that:
a)My idols do affect me a lot and maybe I should look closely at how subliminally they have influenced my life
b)No parent should ever have to bury his/her child

At the oche

I entered the New Year, sports-wise, at the oche (the line behind which you throw darts from) of all places. The World Darts Championship finals are on tonight and paying a fortune for Cable TV here, meant that I could watch the tourney ‘live’ through the X’mas season.
It took me back years, because, one of my graduation subjects was darts (snooker was the major). My degree says psychology (English being the major), but truth is, I spent a lot of my college years at a pub on East Street in Pune throwing darts. I’m no Phil Taylor, though.

Here's to what really matters

My great hope for 2009 is with the world – and all we’ve been told to work hard to achieve – in shambles, what really should matter will be given a chance, again.
This is with special reference to the media, the disseminators of popular wisdom. The ‘How to get rich’ columns will hopefully be replaced with ‘how to keep your cash (honestly)’ and the Dear Janes will be replaced with the Sensible Samanthas.
Even personally, I will look less like a nutter on permanent moral rebound as I open the door of my life to what really matters.