Twenty Onwards Media

Sunday Bloody Sunday

How do all the horribly singing aunties manage to reach the temple, wake up the pujari and everybody in the locality at a wee hour as wee as 5am! Why can’t they let the gods oversleep for a couple of hours? So as I was forced to wake up at 5, I turned the ac on again, checked utorrent’s development and suddenly screamed in a pillow realizing it’s a Sunday! Now for somebody who’s nerves are being eaten away by these horribly singing aunties (why did they survive those earthquakes?) on a Sunday, followed soon after by the tut-tuts of walking sticks of uncles, my Sunday had begun. Around 10am, just when the house started stinking of aaloo-puri (why can’t it ever be pancakes) I was made to get out of my room and have family-breakfast with Comedy Circus on air. My Sunday had already gone to the dogs. When friends didn’t call for as late as 3pm, I realized I might not be able to see the light of the day (I wasn’t crying yet, with a 43 degree temperature outside).

 

It wasn’t just me who had to survive through a 140-decibel catastrophe at 5 or get stuffed with carbs enough to hibernate for a while. Around 4pm, father’s long lost friend Bittu uncle showed up. With wife. And two children. How do people going by the name of Bittu manage to marry? And why is he my father’s friend? Anyway so as mother spent the rest of the day in the kitchen, I had to entertain Bittu’s kids. I wouldn’t have had a problem playing Gregory and the Hawk on the keyboard for them or play the dare-to-gulp-Listerine game or something, but they were the kind of kids who enjoy crap. They wanted to talk about my bed sheet, about why I should really start combing my hair for a healthy life while Bittu’s wife told me how I won’t get married because of that ‘tatu’ on my wrist. I don’t think father was having a great time either. After all, Bittu was the only one finishing his Black Label (only students drink during day time because that’s when we get Rs 19 Old Monk during happy hours).

 

Bittu and family left by 9 and I haven’t spoken to father so far. Tomorrow is Sunday and I’m scared.

Planet Terror - the Ultimate Peeda-Hari Balm

Nothing could comfort my aching pain. It was 32 degrees in my room and I was sweating like a pig in the bitchy Delhi summer. While sitting on my bed and massaging my swollen ankles I was cursing Delhi on one hand and my boy friend on the other. The temperature and my pain were climbing the mercury level at the same speed. It was 12:55 at night and I landed up on Star Movies. And I forgot my pain for the next one and half hours.

 

The tacky, tad and B-grade look of the movie enticed me enough to convince me that there would be enough stuff to laugh at and look at (I personally found Dakota hotter than Cherry Darling).

 

Planet of Terror­ is a film version of a video game where you gotta kill as many zombies as you can. You score a foul if the zombie-puss falls on you or if you get in touch with the green gas, which is the main cause of this Zombie-demic.

 

There is this psycho bio-chemical engineer who amputates balls for his personal correction, played with ‘utmost proficiency’ by Navin Andrews (of Bride and Prejudice infamy). His deal with another psycho – military commander Bruce Willis (he shot Bin Laden twice in his illustrious career) falls apart and he accidentally releases the deadly gas which turned the people of the town into zombies.

 

There is Fergie playing the lesbian lover of Dakota. Dakota is the troubled, neglected wife of psycho surgeon Dr. Block (Josh Brolin) who is planning to run away with her lover. And then there are Go-go dancer Cherry darling (Rose Mc Gowan) and her ex-flame El Wray (Freddy Rodriguez) who are the actual heroes. The former is machine gun legged and the latter ‘never misses’ whatever shot he takes.

 

So, there is plenty of fun actually – puss oozing out of a semi-zombie and splashed on Brolin’s face, Navin Andrews frantically collecting the balls and stuffing in his pockets, Cherry Darling flying like Superman and spraying bullets, Dakota with no feeling in her hands (thanks to the anesthetic injections) trying to open a car door and driving it. The reveling moment is when JT (the bone shack owner) finds the concoction of zombie puss and his own blood as the perfect sauce for his eateries. Mmmmm ….. Yummy!!!

 

The film ends like Terminator, with El Wray dying and Cherry Darling donning the cap of the savior of the survivors. It was a pain-killing experience which numbed my sensations till the end credits.     

 

 

The Myth about Bengalees

When most kids of this country grow up reading Sherlock Holmes and Hercule Poirot in the name of detective books, we Bengalees simply swear by our home-bred hero Phelu da. Out here in north India hardly anyone knows about this character courtesy the lack of enthusiasm to translate these stories for the larger mass and also because of general people’s disinterest in anything Bengalee (however they do take active interest in making fun of this community in every possible way). Dude seriously, Bengalees do know other things apart from eating ‘rosogolla and mishti doi’, saying ‘Hoodi baba’ in every sentence and eating ‘machh’ 24X7.

                            

So, the other day, while showing off each other’s birthday gifts (Thanks Anant for the gift again), we ended up discussing a li’l bit about Satyajit Ray, the man and brain behind Phelu da. Honestly speaking, this man probably saved our grace to some extent in front of rest of the country. A filmmaker, a writer, an illustrator (he was the one who designed the logo of Gold Flake) – he tried hands in so many things and successfully. My childhood memories are mostly reading up Phelu da and his other works - the stories of wacky Prof. Shonku, his accounts of his experience of making particular movies, his memoirs.   The simplicity of the language was meant for all. And, they certainly didn’t lack any literary value. And, yes, Ray wasn’t artsy-fartsy in the true sense of the term.

 

My colleague accused Ray of being artsy-fartsy and speaking in a baritone. I will say that except some of his movies like Nayak, Chidiyakhana, Pratidwandi, Ray has never been intellectual in his art of story-telling. Who can deny the lucid narrative of Pather Panchali? Who can escape the vigorous tension between the characters in Shakha Proshakha? And for disbelievers I would ask them to start off with Sonar Kella (The Golden Fort). As far as the baritone is concerned, if we can tolerate Amitabh Bachchan for the last six decades, then I would say that Ray’s baritone is any day if not better, but as good as that of Mr. Bachchan.

 

 

Indian Summer

This phrase supposedly means a nice, pleasant summer with clear skies and warm breezes (actually, now that I actually look it up, it means a nice, pleasant, brief sunny period in autumn, but whatever) and you really have to experience Summer in North India to laugh at the immense irony in that obviously American figure of speech.

Today I had the immense privilege of spending a little less than four hours just sitting in an auto, after spending a full hour of minor running around (the bank, the wrong branch, finding an auto that was actually willing to take me where I had to go, etc) in Late June New Delhi weather - and anyone who has spent a summer in New Delhi knows what I have just been through.

Right now, even the English language seems inadequate for what I'm trying to describe - Sunlight doesn't do justice to the death-rays shooting at you from the sky, seemingly piercing the invincible Tarp(!) that covered the top of the auto. While the thing was running it was breezy enough, even though I realized the hot wind was dehydrating me faster and I didn't have any water with me, I still enjoyed it every chance I got. I didn't get much of a chance to enjoy it though, being stuck in a traffic jam that stretched practically across South Delhi (if you're familiar with the area, the jam stretched from the BRT corridor to the Mehrauli-Badarpur road.

Actually it stretched all across the M-B road too, but they had a couple of nice Delhi Traffic Policemen standing around telling people to go around because 'there is a really bad jam up ahead.' Half of me wanted to club the guy over the head with his walkie-talkie and half of me wondered how 'really bad' the jam must be up ahead if they're turning people away.

So the auto took a few turns as the policeman suggested and got us stuck in a back-alley traffic jam, which seemed worse because somehow the clustered buildings made it even hotter and humid-er. So after about 40 minutes of waiting and sweating and listening random pedestrians going 'no use turn back' we finally made it to the main road (M-B road, which seemed suspiciously devoid of 'really bad jam', after that it was seemed like the smoothest, most refreshing ride ever after that bylane parking area I was in.

But eventually I reached where I had to go (it was across the street from a BSF training camp ... thats how far away it was from the city ... though technically it was still in the city) and I dripped up to the counter, and dripped right back, and this time the auto (same auto, gave me a round-trip deal) took about half the time to get me back, even though we caught shitty slow traffic in Khanpur and stopped for a drink along the way.

I had a fun time and I drank a full bottle of pepsi. And that was how I spent my morning.

THE END

Adhiraj Singh
(Age 20)

Collector's Item

No one can deny the charm of the good old hand-painted movie posters. Despite the sleek and polished effects of Adobe (or whatever software the designers use) on the latest movie posters, the appeal of the hand-painted movie posters is still there. Bright and vibrant colors, imperfect proportions of the features, imbalanced moustaches and gawky postured heroines all add up to this unavoidable charm of this genre of art. These kind of posters undoubtedly have a more rustic and desi feel about them. Especially the posters during the 50’s and 60’s were the best of their kinds.

 

But I’m not here to write about their artistic evaluation as much has been written about this already. Many have also argued that there is nothing creative about them. I don’t want to get into this debate and would rather talk about my way of perceiving this form of visual art. The 50s boasts of numerous classics like Pyaasa,Kagaaz ke Phool,Awara and Shri 420. And, whenever I recall the names of these movies I inevitably end up conjuring up an image of their posters. To me these posters are an intrinsic part of these movies’ identity.  

 

Many consider it to be cheap and meant for the lower masses of the audience. I consider it to be refreshing than the maneuvered look of the present day movie posters. The old school posters involved the painter’s artistic implementation of the feel and look of the movie. In spite of their criticism of being low-class, they are rare classics these days. They are actually fun to look at.

......

Ok, I'll cut the crap now.

Actually I brewed up this whole above-written s***, just because I wanted to write about these inanely intense old movie posters from

Pakistan

. Yes, they have no relation as such with art. They are raw in their execution, are loud in their appearance and just give us some more reasons to make fun of our good ol’ neighbor. Have fun.        

Below is the poster of  the movie Dharti Sheran Di. This movie featured one of Pakistan's greatest movie stars, Sultan Rahi. He also happens to feature in Maula Jatt which according to many Pakistanis is the greatest action movie ever produced in Pakistan.

       

 

 

For the information of the larger mass, this is the poster of Jane Bond 009.  

Calvin & Hobbes: 15 July, '88

Below is the Calvin and Hobbes strip from the day I was born ... I hoped to feel a connection to this comic strip. Some sort of link or affinity of some kind that would prompt me to write a very heart-felt, personal blog, about how the strip changed my life and made me realize that even I can't bullshit this much.

But then, after reading this strip over and over again, I came to a conclusion (the Wagner beating in my ear helped a little, but I still hold that it was me re-reading the strip that gave me insight.) Calvin has been away playing again, making him late for dinner, and so his parents ask him where he has been. Calvin, being the imaginative little troublemaker that he is, spins an impromptu tall-tale involving a balloon, his 'transmogrifier' and a convenient return to his natural state - ending with a snide comment about his mother's cooking. His mother then makes a comment about Calvin transmogrifying himself into smeone who makes more sense.

Now, to the average reader this would seem nothing more than a very simple Calvin and Hobbes strip - there isn't much undercurrent, but it involves a decent amount of imagination. In fact, the sharp-eyed reader could even tell that this strip is really only here to segue from the last story arc to the normal flow of the strip.

But what this strip is really about is the playfullness and vitality of youth, and even life itself. All Calvin and Hobbes strips have this intrinsic vibrancy to them, and this is a fine example of it (if not the best.) The contrast of Calvin's imaginative ramblings and his Parent's firm rooting in reality is not only hilarious, but the way each intrudes into the other (Calvin interacting with Reality and his Parents commenting on Calvin's fantasies) is also a good source of banter and fun.

But how this strip really speaks to me, is through its simplicity - there are no hidden philosophies, no political statements, no jibes at rivals. Just plain, simple fun. A bit like a Dennis the Menace cartoon, only funny. This strip has nothing else of note, nothing even remotely interesting, or curious, or worth mentioning about it, so I'm just going to stop here. Maybe next time I'll pick a more interesting strip (I just thought, Hey! It's my birthday strip, and it C&H, It'll be fun! But what the fuck do I know) So anyway, this is me bullshitting about this lame comic strip (Watterson could have done any other strip, any of the fun ones or the deep ones that I could write a whole fucking essay on, but no he had to wrote this lukewarm piece of-)

That's all I have to say on this subject, hopefully in another blog I'll choose a subject that is actually worth writing about, and not just something mediocre and 'transitional' like this contrived little piece of-

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Maula Jatt - An Unforgettable Experience

I could not understand a single word of those chaste Punjabi dialogues.  But still I was completely knocked out by what I saw in bits and pieces of this action-packed Lollywood masala movie. Khuda Ke Liye may have given an identity to Pakistani movies, but the experience would be incomplete if you don't watch Maula Jatt. You think I'm exaggerating, huh? Then check out the movie in Youtube where an ardent fan has uploaded the movie for the non-believers.

As I would not like to divulge much about the movie, I will simply say that it's a classic tale of love, romance, revenge and the victory of good over the evil ... Go watch the movie online and thank me later...

You still there??? Ok, let me entice you a li'l more. Maula Jatt is this village guy, who is basically the Jatt version of Superman. He performs all these stunts with his weapon which is called gandaasa. Now, don't ask me what is a gandaasa actually. As per my observation it's a magnified version of axe. And, there is Noorie Nutt (it's spelt Nath somewhere), the baddie who is always at the look out for raping someone and this leads to his clash with Maula Jatt.

So, there are lot of blood, ripped off limbs flying in the air and bits of human intestines dangling from Maula's gandaasa. The film has it's touching moments, when Maula appears from nowhere everytime his Bharjai is in need of some sort of help. And for you perverts out there, there is even an item number by Daro Nathni (one of the lust interests of Noorie Nutt), when Maula beats the hell out of the villain who chased her on a horse throughout the village for nearly 10 mins of screen time.

Have look at this iconic poster of the movie:

And the Golden Kela goes to...

Well, the much-awaited event, the 1^st annual Golden Kela ceremony, is over. The event was enthralled with appearances made by Mr. and Mrs. Bhatti, Valentine Shipley, Amit Saigal (editor of RSJ), RJ Sarthak of 95 FM (unfortunately pet-friend Adam did not accompany him) and also the auditorium was throbbing with media and news channels.

All were present to acknowledge the 'true' talent of the Bollywood. And all of you, who were unable to make it and are eagerly waiting for the result of the 1st Golden Kela Awards, here are the winners:-

Main Category

   1. Worst Actor Male: Himesh Reshammiya for Karzzzzzzzz.

   2. Worst Actor Female: Priyanka Chopra for Dostana, Love Story 2050.

   3. Worst Film: Love Story 2050.

   4. Worst Director: Kunal Kohli for Thoda Life Thoda Magic.

   5. Worst Supporting Actor Male: Salman Khan for Hello.

   6. Worst Supporting Actor Female: Kangana Ranaut for Fashion.

   7. Worst Debutant Male: Harman Baweja.

   8. Worst Debutant Female: Anoushka Sharma.

 

Special Categories

   1. Bawra Ho Gaya Hai Ke Award:  Ram Gopal Varma for Everything He Did.

   2. When Did This Come Out Award: Wafaa.

   3. Lajja Award for Worst Treatment of a Serious Issue Award: Deshdrohi.

   4. Insensitivity Award: Fashion.

   5. Exceptional Dialogue Delivery: Tusshar Kapoor.

   6. Dara Singh award for the worst accent: Katrina Kaif.

 

Most Wanted Categories

   1. Most Atrocious Lyrics Award: Anvita Dutt Guptani for Lucky Boy from Bachna Ae Haseeno.

   2. Most Original Story: Hari Puttar.

   3. Most Irritating Song of the Year Award: Tandoori Nights from Karzzzzzzzz.

 

Links to the media coverage:-

 

 

 

The Golden Kela Awards - for the ripest tripe in Indian Cinema

Film lovers are going to see an awards show, which is altogether different from what they are used to see generally. RANDOM Magazine and the Sundaas Film Institute are organizing the first ever Golden Kela Awards (www.goldenkela.in) in Delhi, on 7th of March, 2009, at the India Habitat Centre. Golden Kela stands out because of its bizarre theme of celebrating the worst of Indian cinema. The event has proper categories like any other awards show, the only difference is instead of awarding the best performances, we award the worst ones.

Aishwarya Rai and Mallika Sherawat , both have been nominated for their acting excellence in the year 2008. And, Himesh Reshammiya has a well-deserved nomination in the Worst Actor's category.

The Golden Kela Awards are inspired by the Golden Raspberries or the Razzies of America. The nominations have been decided by the Magazine's board and the winners are going to be selected on the basis of an online poll. So, far we have received tremendous response through public voting and extensive media coverage.

Links to news stories:

Hindustan Times

Buzz 18

Mid Day

If you want to do your bit, log on to http://www.goldenkela.in/ and vote.

Mr. Jaspal Bhatti is the Chief Guest of Honor and he'll be awarded with the Life Time Achievement Award. 

Worst Actor (Male) :

Himesh Reshammiya - Karzzzz
(Monty is back! After 28 years! And he's fatter, cheaper and has weird hair! Not to mention the horrible music. Clip: Kya saboot hai tumhare paas ki tumne Ravi Varma ka khoon nahi kiya?
Hrithik Roshan - Jodhaa Akbar ( Akbar was'nt a tall, green-eyed six-packed handsome mimbo. He was short and stocky and most definitely could speak Urdu with the proper accent.)
Emraan Hashmi - Jannat (Monkey see, monkey do, monkey kiss, monkey plays bookie, monkey still remains a monkey.)
Salman Khan - Yuvvraj (Seriously Sallu bhai, why are you stuck in your ooh, aah and aooon brand of acting when you can choose to do nothing at all like Arjun Rampal or Rahul Bose? Much less work for the same results.)
Rahul Bose - Shaurya (For giving a total of two expressions for the entire duration of a high drama film)

Worst Actor (Female) :

Priyanka Chopra - Dostana, Love Story 2050
(C'mon Piggy...are you even trying? Are you trying to do something other than taking off a lot of your clothes?
Aishwarya Rai Bachchan - Jodha Akbar (For turning a strong Rajput princess (of dubious veracity) into one of Ekta Kapoor's heroines)
Kareena Kapoor - Tashan, Golmaal Returns (For being as cheap loud and obnoxious...)
Katrina Kaif - Yuvvraj (Oh what a pretty face! Oh what a pretty smile! Oh what a pretty girl! Unfortunately, acting is not skin deep)
Mallika Sherawat - Ugly aur Pagli (I wont waste precious space by saying anything about this performance!)

Just when you thought it was all about serious stuff ...

Just when you thought that daily soaps were the greatest levelers, making your mother, wife, mother-in-law and your girlfriend for an hour or so to discuss the virtues of Tulsi-Parvati or to speculate the results of the current reality shows, there’s something brewing inside the TV itself to challenge the title. Yes, I know it all seemed like a miracle to you and your neighbor and fellow countrymen giving rise to this myth. But a closer look will prove the invalidity of your belief. Like any disbeliever (infidel!!!) you will loath my arguments. But if you are a TV-buff, then you would give me a patient hearing.  

See, I won’t go into analyzing the merits of daily soap. There’s no point. Rather I would talk about the thing I want to talk about. Most of us have been lectured by our parents to watch news regularly. I don’t know about you, but I certainly watched other stuff more than news. Come on, back then movies and FTV were more interesting than news. But the present-day news channels are proving our parents right. F**k comedy shows, news channels rock these days.

The seeds of revolution were planted when Aajtak was conceived by some wise old men (and women may be … I’m not too sure). Since, that time it has provided us with our rightful supply of ‘infotainment’. Starting from the plight of a cat stuck in the roof, they went that extra mile to report about the missing dog of the Commissioner. I guess many of you still remember the ticker ‘Commissioner ka kutta mila’ on your TV screen. 

 

 

This is not the end of it as legacy is not created at the snap of a finger like you thought. Remember Muhnochwa? In case you don’t, I’m sorry I can’t help as there are no videos available on youtube to support my claim. Better ask your pados ke Uncle ji or your TV-addict know-it-all friend who cares about anything and everything going in the TV. Not only this, it catapulted the channel to nation-wide fame and gave India her journalistic icon in the name of Deepak Chaurasia. Who can forget his reporting of Pramod Mahajan’s murder? He went on describing his ‘closeness’ with the family and denied that there was any brother by the name of Praveen. His quote, ‘He seems to be a cousin of Pramod.’

There was no one challenging the popularity and credentials of Aajtak, till India TV showed up in the field. And, I must say, what inspiration they have taken from the veterans of the small-screen .... (to be contd.)