Rock-On movie review

Two hours of live rock concert was the impression foremost on my mind as I came out of the movie hall. Never much into anything but antique melodies, Rock-On has created a new follower for rock in me. Mind-blowing music, youthful lyrics and energetic singing characterize the music of the film. The drums and the guitar left me ecstatic and lost to the music. While music formed the soul of the movie, the cast added flesh and blood to it.

Aditya (Farhan Akhtar), Joe (Arjun Rampal), KD (Purab Kohli) and Rob (Luke Kenny) feel comfortable in their skins as rock artists. Farhan rendering voice to all the songs picturized on his character adds an authentic touch. Arjun Rampal is steadily maturing as an actor. If he looked convincing in Om Shanti Om, he looks made for the role in Rock-On. The way he uses his body language to portray transformation from a go-get-it confident youngster to a beaten by life, unsuccessful middle-aged man is amazing and deserves notice. He may not be a versatile actor owing to his chiseled looks but characters chosen with care to suit his personality can take him places. The cool-as-cucumber characters of Purab and Luke do well to complement the intense characters of the other two.


The movie gives equal importance to all the emotions that the characters could go through given a situation as in the movie. Passion for music, bonding with friends, love, ego, fragility of mind, all have their own place and treated well too. Aditya just walks out on a life that makes him taste failure giving up even on his girlfriend. Joe, never a man of the world, thrives on emotions and sentiments. KD is the happy-go-lucky kind who can never be bogged down by anything while Rob wages his own war against life.


The female leads have been used to the optimum extent. This is not their film, they know it and don’t try to squeeze out anything more even as they do complete justice to their roles.
The icing on the cake is the way the rock concerts have been captured. Re-iterating my first statement, they seemed nothing less than live.


Concluding, one would be wise to watch Rock-On in a good theater with good sound systems if inflation has not burnt a hole in your pockets.

A flooded weekend

What would you have when you plan a sumptuous lunch, a week in advance? A damaged pan, a burnt carpet, a burnt gasket and an exchange of a few warm words. What would you have when you plan for a perfect vacation a couple of months in advance? Three times postponement and still-existent uncertainty of making it. What would you have when you plan for a perfect Sunday from Friday night? A flooded house!
I guess “failure of plans” is going to be our family tradition; it looks quite promising in the first months of our marriage at least. Planned to move into our newly constructed flat as soon as we got married; the builder refused to fit in the sanitary or get the elevator running. Have been planning a nice trekking expedition into the western ghats, so near to my husband’s town; the time doesn’t seem to be quite ripe yet. Planned a relaxing weekend for my parents in Bandipur; the first date saw us shifting our house, the second saw mother falling ill, the third will soon go by seeing another of the relatives ill and I cannot predict any further. Felt like pulling my hair, shouting out aloud and blaming someone for everything but do what I may, neither would the builder get the elevator and sanitary fitted up nor can the ill uncle recover in a flash. Hence, I decided not to pull my hair out instead, am trying the age-old formulae of laughing it off. The day my loving husband triumphantly placed the hot frying pan on the plastic carpet and got the designs off the carpet and onto the pan, I cooled down after the initial face-off and took a picture of the three-some (the carpet, the pan and my husband) for the family album. The weekend gone by, the experiment went a step further.
It was after a long time that we were having a quiet weekend, free of any pending work and all to ourselves. I was savoring it and planning for it from Friday night – a relaxed cup of coffee with the news paper, a nice game of badminton followed by a light breakfast, a prolonged warm shower and an elaborate lunch, a nap in the noon, a leisurely walk and a smug dinner with a movie before retiring for the day. A refreshed Monday would ensue I dreamt. Behold, arrives Sunday morning and in my excitement to get to the badminton court and get work out of the way simultaneously, I switch on the washing machine and rush off. A couple of hours later, I enter the house, exhausted and dreaming of a nice warm bath. Surprise, surprise! I do not get to walk into the house but wade through it; I had forgotten to let the outlet pipe into the bathroom. My heart slumped, but only for a moment. The experiment continued, I smiled, took a picture of the house, welcomed my ever-patient husband in and together, we drew up a “plan” to drain the water. Three hours of backbreaking work ensued.
It is Monday morning and I feel quite refreshed!

Jaane Tu Ya Jaane Na

Jai and Aditi’s friends narrate the story to a newcomer to the group while awaiting their friends’ arrival at the airport. Sounds painfully familiar, does it? The hero rips across the screen astride a horse and clad in a mask-of-zorro costume, waving his sword menacingly. Yawn! You then realize it was but the hero’s dream. A bigger yawn! The hero wakes-up from his reverie and so must you because the story has just begun!

A light-hearted entertainer though it may be, every character in the movie has been etched out definitely. The actors are unbelievably spontaneous going by the standards of a mainstream Bollywood movie. The maturity of the maker is apparent in the way he handles the ever-sidelined relationship of a brother and sister. The possessive love of a brother grudgingly giving way to a deserving man for his sister, you will find yourself smiling unconsciously when you see it. The love-story is, needless to say, the best ever executed in Bollywood. The music is appropriately youthful. There is also a message of “non-violence to the extent possible” if you like morals for every story. Imran Khan and Genelia are worth their weight in gold.

Aur kaise koi soch le everything’s gonna be ok” hums Jai to Aditi but everything’s just perfect! We finally have a producer who makes films for the educated young Indian. First, it was the message conveying Taare Zameen Par and now the refreshingly entertaining Jaane Tu Ya Jaane Na.

Driving in Bangalore and Betting on Horses

The Kingfisher summer derby that made front page news recently and the Jeeves and Wooster’s “sporting” stories (thanks to Mr. P.G. Wodehouse) that I have been gorging on for sometime now were, for reasons unknown, foremost on my mind as I squeezed through the indomitable Bangalore traffic on my way to office today. A bolt from the skies and I could see a connection!
Driving in Bangalore is like betting on horses.

Illustrated (This is from a biker’s perspective): As one approaches a patch of high vehicular density, one starts betting on which vehicle is best followed, overtaken or altogether avoided. For example, the best bet is an ambulance, follow it and you are sure to win, that is make a headway into the traffic. This thumb-rule stands valid for the present and a not-so-distant future, until the human conscience holds a bit of ground. A truck is the worst bet, fall behind it only when there is a gorge on either side. They are loaded with at least ten times more weight than they are permitted to carry and the engines contain everything except what the manufacturer initially intended for them. Next, keep your eyes open for those dangerous of the species called “safe drivers”, the ones that move only when the signal is green, stop for the pedestrians and do not squeeze into the next gap available. Overtake them the first opportunity you get although, one can bet on them when the only other choice of horse is a truck; at the least they don’t mow you down when gravity beckons. There are some other horses in the race that must be observed carefully before betting, these are the kinds that turn winners under certain conditions and certain conditions only. The buses, public or otherwise, come under this category. When on the edges of the road, they tend to allow a tiny margin between the median/footpath and themselves and this gap is a boon in disguise to a skillful bike rider. The bulk of their body in proportion to the size of the road is instrumental in blocking other bulky ones of the species and keeping the path clear for a good distance ahead. If one can just manage to squeeze through these margins, the road to victory is theirs for taking. Remember though, if you are not skilled enough to utilize the margins, avoid these horses altogether, they more often than not stop mid-track for rest, intake or just to chat up with others of their breed. Then there are the lame horses, the moped riders, the cycle riders and the pedestrians. Do not think twice before you kick them aside and get along.
A few more but no more, there ends the simile.

When you are betting on horses, you are not one of the horses, no ones betting on you and you are safe in the pavilion munching popcorn. Being a horse yourself, part of the race too and betting on other horses is, as Wooster would call it, a bit thick. There is no saying when an over-enthusiastic horse judges you a lame horse and kicks you aside or just massacre you to get ahead. Jack shall have no more betting then.

Riding thirty kilometers to office everyday for a couple of months now, I think I will get back to the pavilion and enjoy the race from atop before being judged lame by a hot-blooded of the species; get back to my office bus, I mean.

What!! Oh no! I ain’t giving no advice, Tch Tch, that’s for the grey-haired ones to do.

Manali – Do not visit.

Haha… Relax, sit back and breathe out! Manali of Himachal Pradesh, India is a place one should never visit but explore at leisure.

I saw a road-side sign-board in Manali which read “himaanchal” and it flashed to me that the state might have been named to mean “draped in mist” and it sure lives up to its probable name most days of the year.

My brand new husband and I landed in Manali on the morning of 2nd of May, 2008 to spend our honeymoon. The choice of destination owing to

“Jab we Met” being the Bollywood block-buster at the time of our marriage, one of the popular songs of which was shot beautifully in Manali.

My husband and I desiring a close to nature, adventure-packed romantic holiday.

Destination India.

A 2hr flight to Delhi from Coimbatore and a 16hr bus ride from there landed us in Manali; the Deluxe A/C Volvo being least strenuous. When we opened our eyes in Kullu, we knew we had made the right decision - Ranges and ranges of pine covered mountains on either side, the Beas River flowing in all its fury by the hills, small and big water falls at every twist and turn of the road and huge rose bushes scattered all over the place. Manali was an hour’s drive from Kullu (about 40KMs) and our hotel, the “Apple Country” was a couple of KMs uphill from the main bus stand. We requested the hotel chap to give us a room with a good view and I sure would have kissed him if he was around when I opened the windows of my room; behold! Snow capped mountains, more than one splurging water falls, a tiny village cupped in the valleys - all in my window.

A bath and a heavy breakfast later, we decided to cover by walk as much of the local Manali as possible; the town is spread out within a radius of just about 5KMs around the main bus stop. We first visited the Hadimba temple, a KM uphill from our hotel. Numerous windings of the roads and cafes and hotels later, we got to the temple. The temple itself is thoroughly unimpressive to a layman, said to be an ancient temple dedicated to one of the Pandava brothers Bhima’s wife Hadimba, one cannot go close to the main idol. The surrounding park is quite extensive, calm and peaceful and full of pine trees and other tall, seemingly ancient trees. A half hour’s worth of visit, just to tick the place off on your guide book. We then trekked down to the main market place; there are a flight of steps from the temple downwards which is a much shorter route compared to the main vehicle route and goes through the woods too. Shopping held no charm for us so we just proceeded to the Tibetian monastery which is about 0.5km from the main market place. Except for a mild interest in the unique revolving bells all around the monastery and a big statue of Buddha, it has nothing else to offer to a layman. Lunch at the madras café on the main road and then to Van Vihar, the national park. The park is spread over an extensive stretch of land on the banks of River Beas. We lolled around for a bit in the lazy afternoon sun peeping through a thick coverage of numerous unfamiliar species of tall trees. A sign-board strictly prohibited the public from crossing over to the river banks. We read it and promptly crossed over. Navigating through the rocks, we reached an isolated spot close to the river. Not a single human sound, just the evening breeze and the sound of water busily speeding by. This was bliss! We sat there for over an hour, sometimes touching the freezing water with our feet, sometimes with our palms, not wanting to distract the breeze or the water with our sounds. With this twilight in our hearts, we trekked back to the hotel and were we out of breathe or what! 4KM of uphill trek was something we had not made up our minds for. Puffing and panting and dragging each other, we reached the hotel and collapsed on our beds, not waking up for dinner either.

For the second day, we planned to hire a taxi and visit the “must-see” places around Manali. Rohtang pass was off limits for tourists until the ides of May so we zeroed-in on Solang valle and Marhi. The drive was expectedly scenic. Solang valley hosts a few adventure sports and the must-do among them is paragliding. There are a range of heights and flight times to be chosen from starting from the beginner level 40sec, low height flight to the thrilling 10min, higher than the hill range flight. We chose the medium 2.5min flight which went up to a descent height but once there, we realized we could take in much more. So, anyone who has an above average strength of heart or done parasailing before must opt for the 10min, high range flight. One can get a top-view of the Beas flowing amidst the mountain ranges and almost embrace the breath-taking snow-caps. It’s the best! None of the other activities are worth the time or money. From Solang, we proceeded to Marhi. The taxi drivers and the road-side guides forced us to hire snow pants and boots saying it would be terribly cold uphill at Marhi and would need them for snow sports – skiing, sledging, tubing and what-nots. We ignorant folks promptly obeyed them. An utter mess is what awaited us at Marhi; hundreds of people crowded on a small stretch of mountain trying to sledge, tube-slide and ski all at the same time with no regards what-so-ever to safety and to top it all, a proportionate number of small-time vendors selling magi noodles and tea. The snow had almost turned brown in color. For people who have done snow-sports in the US or Europe, this place is an absolute taboo. Anyways, driving back to the hotel, we encountered numerous small water-falls and couldn’t resist the temptation to halt and admire them at leisure. An hour long drive landed us back in the hotel. The hotel had boasted of a discotheque on its website and having a little more energy left for the day, we decided to check it out; although an absolute disappointment in size, music and crowd, two drinks down and we were on the floor, shaking a leg.

Third day in Manali will be one of the most memorable days of our lives; 14KMs of white water rafting in the furious River Beas. The rafting started from Phirdi, a place 5KM from Kullu and we opted to get there by the government bus which cost us Rs 80/- each both ways rather than a taxi that would have cost us Rs 800/-; The buses are quite frequent and comfortable too. Excited and expectant, we waited for our pilot and raft to arrive and meanwhile realized we had forgotten to pack a change of clothes and towels. Regret was mild at that moment, further diminished by excitement. We saw the weather change for the worse as the day progressed and sensed the river water freezing cold but the excitement persisted. At around one after noon, we were finally stuffed into life jackets, helmets and into the raft. The pilot asked if we wanted to row and we eagerly nodded assent. A few hundred meters into the river and we threw down the rows into the raft and held onto the ropes for dear life. My husband says, in those few moments, he couldn’t help conceiving a peaceful life with any woman other than me; an adventurous trip was 90% my idea and 10% his consent. An extensive stretch of furious rapids threw us all over the river and blasted us with freezing cold water. I still wanted to complete the 14KMs stretch but not wanting a divorce during my honeymoon and set a record of sorts, I seconded my husband when he told the pilot to cut down the trip to 7KMs. There was then a calm stretch that allowed us to breathe calmly, thank heavens for our lives and look at each other before being thrown about again. This second rapid was not as shockingly frightening as the first probably because we knew what to expect and in the next calm stretch, my husband surprisingly agreed to go the entire distance. It was sheer enjoyment after that. Every time we went into a rapid, we would try and guess if we would be sprayed with water or spared and shout to each other over high decibels of the gushing water. We were all smiles when we disembarked at the 14KM mark, our courage proven to us beyond doubt. Further test of endurance awaited us though, the weather having worsened and rain pouring down in gushes as soon as we landed. No change of clothes and not even a towel to wipe dry, we warmed ourselves with numerous cups of tea and fried chillies served at a road-side café. The trip back to Manali and to our hotel was extremely uncomfortable owing to our wet clothes and chill weather, my husband apparently re-conceiving his earlier visions every time he shivered.

Day 4 was a complete disaster. The hotel had promised a complementary jeep tour around some of the “must-see” places in Manali and having paid a blast for the hotel, we took it up not wanting to miss anything they had to offer; a penny wise pound foolish decision. Lazing around till late in the morning, we started on the tour post-lunch. We first drove down to Vashisht, a temple supposedly housing a natural hot-water spring and a huge disappointment. A person who has any concern for hygiene wouldn’t get into the springs and the temple is one among millions scattered across India. Thirsting to do something worth-while, we enquired some of the tour organizers here for short-distance trekking routes and they suggested a 4KM trek to Jhogni falls from Vashisht. Point noted we drove down to our next destination, the much hyped Manali club house. Common-sense told us a club-house can’t offer a wonder but hope, thy name is man. Anyways, since we had no alternative plans for the evening, we decided to utilize and enjoy whatever was available; played a good game of Table-tennis for an hour and called it a day.

Last day in Manali, we signed off in style; went for the 4KM trek from Vashisht to Jhogni falls, reaching Vashisht by auto. It was a pleasant scenic trek through the woods and the falls were simply beautiful. We trekked up as much as we could and halted at a place where there were no humans around and the water was least likely to have been touched. There was a small intermediate pond formed here and the water tasted refreshingly sweet; we just couldn’t have enough of it. We spent about an hour here and trekked back to the Manali market place. A final sumptuous meal at Apple Country and boarded the bus to Delhi. We took in as much of Manali as we could from the bus windows and drifted into dreams of pure, gleaming water gushing through rose-covered mountains surrounded by taller peaks of snow-caps.

Advice:

5000/- per night that we shelled out for the honeymoon suite in Apple Country was not worth the money in terms of facilities – the room and water closet are miniature in size, the TV never works, gym consists of exactly two treadmills, no swimming pool, discotheque is disappointing, no sports bar.

Travel as much of Manali as possible by walk or government buses – autos and taxis charge a bomb.

There is a Johnson’s café on the way from the market place to the log huts area – do not try it unless you want the bland American cuisine. Food in Applie country is good although expensive.

Paragliding cost us 1500/- per person for the 2 min flight. We heard there are other places offering the 10 min flight for the same amount. Enquire with the numerous tour organizers in the market place.
We contacted the X-Zone adventures for rafting and I think they gave us good deal – 500/- per person for the 14KM stretch.

Set aside atleast one whole day for trekking. Contact a good trek organizer for the same, they provide you with routes and guides.

Mountain biking is another thing one must not miss in Manali, although we did.

Some more quotes from some other books

"Wuthering Heights" by Emily Bronte:

"What were the use of my creation if I were entirely contained here? My great miseries in this world have been Heathcliff's miseries, and I watched and felt each from the beginning; my great thought in living is himself. If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the Universe would turn to a mighty stranger. I would not seem a part of it. My love for Linton is like the foliage in the woods. Time will change it, I'm well aware, as winter changes the trees - my love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath - a source of little visible delight, but necessary. Nelly, I am Heathcliff-he's always, always in my mind - not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself - but as my own being-"
This, said by a lady, married to a man named Linton, talking of her childhood love, Heathcliff - two people thrown together and away from all else in the initial days of their conscious life.

"Scarlet Pimpernal" by Baroness Emmuska Orczy":

"He seemed to worship me with a curious intensity of concentrated passion, which went straight to my heart. I had never loved any one before and I was four-and-twenty then - so I naturally thought it was not in my nature to love. But it has always seemed to me that it MUST be HEAVENLY to be loved blindly, passionately, wholly... worshipped, in fact - and the very fact that he was slow and stupid was an attraction for me, as I thought he would love me all the more. A clever man would naturally have other interests, an ambitious man other hopes... I thought that a fool would worship me, and think of nothing else. And I was ready to respond, to allow myself to be worshipped, and give infinite tenderness in return... "
This, said by a lady justifying why she married a man she thought to be a fool.

Quotes from "A Tale of Two Cities" by Charles Dickens

Hereforth, I quote a few sentences from some of the books that I have read that have impressed me a great deal. Make no mistake for I am no literary critic, I just enjoy a wide range of books in my own simple way.

"A picture is worth a thousand words" it is said but creating a picture in one's mind with those thousand words seems to me to be no easy task. Hence, I savour it when done and the quotes that I speak of are some such.

Today's book of interest: "A Tale of Two Cities" by Charles Dickens

"A man of a strong resolution and a set purpose; a man not desirable to be met, rushing down a narrow pass with a gulf on either side, for nothing would turn the man."
This, describing a man of great will and determination.

"The faintness of the voice was pitiable and dreadful. It was not the faintness of physical weakness. Its deplorable peculiarity was that it was the faintness of solitude and disuse. It was like the last and feeble echo of a sound made long and long ago. So entirely had it lost the life and resonance of the human voice, that it affected the senses like a once beautiful colour faded away into a poor weak stain. So sunken and suppressed it was, that it was like a voice underground. So expressive it was, of a hopeless and lost creature, that a famished traveller, wearied out by lonely wandering in a wilderness, would have remembered home and friends in such a tone before lying down to die."
This, describing a prisoner shut in solitary confinement for years together - a prisoner convicted of crimes he had never commited, a prisoner who was once a honourable man earning his honest bread, a prisoner separated from his wife he had loved so dearly and a daughter unborn.