Random Trailers I like - Detective Byomkesh Bakshy!

A good trailer should be like a mini skirt, they say, reveal just enough and keep everyone interested. Does the trailer for 'Detective Byomkesh Bakshy!' do that? You bet, it does. It clearly has traces of the Guy Ritchie's take on Sherlock Holmes and the recreated Victorian era.

Before we proceed, here is a list of things that we already know about the characters from the version that Basu Chaterjee directed for Doordarshan:

• Byomkesh Bakshi (note that this spelling does not have a 'Y' at the end. Neither does it have the exclamation. The former is for typographical balance, but the latter cannot be justified.) - A detective and introduces himself as Satyanveshi.
• Ajit - BB's assistant, sidekick and friend
• Satyabati - BB's wife with whom he bounces off his thoughts
• Puntiram - BB's servant

Lets take a look at what it reveals and try to connect some dots about the much closely guarded movie story line.

Phunny language

The railway minister - Laloo Prasad Yadav, the villain in Tashan - Lakhan Singh and the don in One Two Three - Papa... what do they all have in common? They are all the leaders who have struggled with english. (And yes, I have watched Tashan as well as One Two Three. Start to end.)

Microsoft has been successfully selling the Chinese version of the Operating System many years before someone started creating a Hindi version. A couple of years back, a school topper was denied admission into a school because her English was not up to the mark. I have watched her speak on NDTV and she definitely spoke a better version of the 'phunny language' than some of the professors. In India, the fascination for the English language prevails.

Moral of the story

"Fuck!! There are fucking millions of pounds involved. Don't you go around fucking with it. What the fuck do you think you guys are here for! Do you even fucking know how it should work?" This was the yelling that Ram would hear from Steve almost every morning.

The deadline was a day away and Steve, the paymaster, was yelling expletives at the placent technical leader, Ram. While the entire team stood in silence, it seemed unreal that Ram was holding his nerve in the face of a wealthy boss who throws 'fucks' into practically every thing that comes out of his mouth.

Nonchalantly Ram said - "You will get it by the agreed date." The silence prevailed even after Steve had left. Ram had been away from his country for the duration of the project. He had been the brain behind this technically complex and highly priced project. For the business, it was as big as a rocket launch is for NASA. As usual, Ram's team spent the evening and the next half of the day toiling at their desks, which was followed by the usual round of the User Acceptance Tests. By the end of the week, there were cheers all around and the work was proclaimed to be a success.

Ram sat at his desk and sent a mail to Steve.

Mr. Steve,
This is to inform you that with the success of the project, my role as the technical leader at your company is now complete. I am glad that this would mean the end of the 5 year period of your needless expletives. It gives me immense pleasure to note that the efforts of the team have borne fruit. I hope that you have noticed how it is important to fuck to create something beautiful.
You must have also noted that we skipped some of your suggestions and instructions over the period of time in order to finish what we had initially aimed for. The technicalities have always been our domain and were implemented with the usual finesse. The results are out there in the form of the happy users. Since it is the users that fuel your business, we have undoubtedly saved your day. So, do not teach your father to fuck.
Regards,
Ram

Lunch as usual

As the clock strikes one (must have been quite some time since someone said that in the current digital age), everybody digs into their bags and takes out their lunch boxes. Everyone (all desis) queues up for the 4 microwave ovens. My gang efficiently blocks the biggest table in the canteen in order to accommodate as many of us as it can.

B had got a boxful of chopped raw vegetable munchies... cabbage, cucumber, carrots and all that healthy stuff.

R: What is all this healthy food about?
B: Balanced diet. Health. Vitamins.
R: Vitamins? Drink beer if you want vitamins.
B: This box here is full of vitamin A and C.
R: A bottle of beer is full of the same. Research proves.
B: Carrots have Vitamin A; good for the eyes. Beer is good for a beer belly.
R: How do you know?
B: Have you seen rabbits wearing specs? You have a beer belly, though.
R: But you have specs, don't you?
B: I am not a rabbit.
R: I am a human, I drink beer and I do NOT have specs. Hence, proved that carrots are good for the rabbit's eyes and beer is good for human eyes.

Random strings

This is just a string of random, but inter-related, thoughts that made their way in and out of the varied grey dunes of the brain...

A young gum chewing smartie was arguing with an intently listening aged man in the bus. The younger one was saying that there is nothing left for the new generation to invent because everything that could have been invented is already out there. So, the younger generation can just stay laid back and not do anything at all. The experienced man countered this by saying that if every generation thought like that there would never had been the airplane or sliced bread or the chewing gum or even orange juice. Somebody out there tried squeezing out the juice of the orange and figured out that it was tasty. What about cow juice? Some guy must have thought one morning that I should squeeze those things under the cow's belly and drink whatever comes out of it. The accidental success would have got everyone around to try the same with different things. Someone might have rubbished the claim stating that his bull could squeeze out only a cupful and it did not taste good. Or worse, someone might have got killed when the elephant sat down on him/ her during the trial. Who knows! I know a nerd who could spoil the fun by giving me a logical repartee saying that the cow's milk was invented by the calf sucking on it mother's udder.

So what could be possible inventions? My shot to some possibilities...

• A wall that can change its colour or its scene like a desktop wallpaper... a big digital photoframe?
• A device that stores all the energy created by the rotating wheels of a car and then use it to fuel the car itself... after all isn't water used to rotate the turbines, which in turn convert mechanical energy to electricity?
• An optical lens that automatically changes its refractive index depending on the vision of the user... how does auto-focus in a digital camera work?
• An inoculation for common cold
• A formal shoe that does not crease in 2 days... at my last visit to a shoe shop, the salesman was selling me dryme leather shoes that look the same throughout its life; mainly because they look old when they are new.
• A small locket that acts as a translator and transmits the wearer's speech into a pre-set language... a speech to text converter > language translation tool > text to speech converter?
• A theatre that allows the viewer to select the actors on-the-fly while buying the tickets to the movie... when they can make Beowulf, why not!

Yea, why not?!

Stumped vision

They have got it all wrong... the allegations, the man of the match, the principle of host, and even the reasons.

During the Indian cricket tour of Australia, Bhajji has been charged with racism because of something that he said to the Australian cricketer, Symonds. The turbanator has been repeatedly telling that he did not call Symonds a 'monkey'. Someone raised a doubt about the allegation saying - How did the aussies understand what Harbhajan said when he himself does not understand his english? And the point was not fully wrong because the latest is that in fact, Bhajji had said 'Maa Ki...' as an apt reply to the instigation from the Aussies.
Reports poured in about the cancellation of the tour as the visitors threatened to go back home. Of course, it is not fair that you call someone home to play a game and then not let him/ her win. Even if the host has to win, it should not be done with such a thrashing. One can learn about being a good host from the Indians. When there is an international match in India against the weakest of the teams, they ensure that the visitors do not leave disappointed. Afterall, Indians believe that guests are a form of God.

The credit for maintaining the winning streak goes to the ever-ready finger of the on man. The man of the match in the second test was, undoubtedly, Steve Bucknor. He is the fearsome Ninja who is turning blind with age and so relies on his ears for the crucial decisions. His sharp hearing powers help distinguish the level of intensity and drama in the appeal of the fielders. It is not his fault that the Indians do not put in enough emotions and volume in their appeals like the Australians do by walking fearsomely close to him!

But wait, not everything went wrong for the Indians. The test matches have separated the men from the boys. It has highlighted the genius of the stalwarts like Sachin, Laxman, Saurav and Rahul, who have persisted through the tough batting conditions. When Rahul was young, he used to take his OWN bat and ball to the cricket ground and inspite of that, his friends used to make him field all day... no batting! To the frustration of the opposition, he now makes everyone field while he makes up for all the batting that he missed in the younger days. He enjoyed his batting at the crease for 40 balls before he finally ran to score the first run. Batting vasool, boss.

The tour is only getting more entertaining by the day and they ask me the reason for staying glued to the match!

India Driving

Received an email today. Could not resist sharing it on blogger.

Driving in Bangalore/ India.

For the benefit of every Tom, Dick and Harry visiting India and daring to drive on Indian roads, I am offering a few hints for survival. They are applicable to every place in India except Bihar, where life outside a vehicle is only marginally safer.

Indian road rules broadly operate within the domain of karma where you do your best, and leave the results to your insurance company. The hints are as follows: Do we drive on the left or right of the road? The answer is "both". Basically you start on the left of the road, unless it is occupied. In that case, go to the right, unless that is also occupied. Then proceed by occupying the next available gap, as in chess. Just trust your instincts, ascertain the direction, and proceed. Adherence to road rules leads to much misery and occasional fatality. Most drivers don't drive, but just aim their vehicles in the generally intended direction.

Don't you get discouraged or underestimate! e yourself lf except for a belief in reincarnation; the other drivers are not in any better position.

Don't stop at pedestrian crossings just because some fool wants to cross the road. You may do so only if you enjoy being bumped in the back.

Pedestrians have been strictly instructed to cross only when traffic is moving slowly or has come to a dead stop because some minister is in town. Still some idiot may try to wade across, but then, let us not talk ill of the dead.

Blowing your horn is not a sign of protest as in some countries. We horn to express joy, resentment, frustration, romance and bare lust (two brisk blasts),or just mobilize a dozing cow in the middle of the bazaar.

Keep informative books in the glove compartment. You may read them during traffic jams, while awaiting the chief minister's motorcade, or waiting for the rainwater to recede when over ground traffic meets underground drainage.

Occasionally you might see what looks like a UFO with blinking colored lights and weird sounds emanating from within. This is an illuminated bus, full of happy pilgrims singing bhajans. These pilgrims go at breakneck speed, seeking contact with the Almighty, often meeting with success.

Auto Rickshaw (Baby Taxi): The result of a collision between a rickshaw and an automobile, this three-wheeled vehicle works on an external combustion engine that runs on a mixture of kerosene oil and creosote. This triangular vehicle carries iron rods, gas cylinders or passengers three times its weight and dimension, at an unspecified fare. After careful geometric calculations, children are folded and packed into these auto rickshaws until some children in the periphery are not in contact with the vehicle at all. Then their school bags are pushed into the microscopic gaps all round so those minor collisions with other vehicles on the road cause no permanent damage. Of course, the peripheral children are charged half the fare and also learn Newton's laws of motion enroute to school.
Auto-rickshaw drivers follow the road rules depicted in the film Ben Hur, and are licensed to irritate.

Mopeds: The moped looks like an oil tin on wheels and makes noise like an electric shaver. It runs 30 miles on a teaspoon of petrol and travels at break-bottom speed. As the sides of the road are too rough for a ride, the moped drivers tend to drive in the middle of the road; they would rather drive under heavier vehicles instead of around them and are often "mopped" off the tarmac.

LeaningTower of Passes: Most bus passengers are given free passes and during rush hours, there is absolute mayhem. There are passengers hanging off other passengers, who in turn hang off the railings and the overloaded bus leans dangerously, defying laws of gravity but obeying laws of surface tension. As drivers get paid for overload (so many Rupees per kg of passenger), no questions are ever asked. Steer clear of these buses by a width of three passengers.

One-way Street: These boards are put up by traffic people to add jest in their otherwise drab lives.
Don't stick to the literal meaning and proceed in one direction. In metaphysical terms, it means that you cannot proceed in two directions at once. So drive as you like, in reverse throughout, if you are the fussy type. Least I sound hypercritical, I must add a positive point also.

Rash and fast driving in residential areas has been prevented by providing a "speed breaker"; two for each house. This mound, incidentally, covers the water and drainage pipes for that residence and is left untarred for easy identification by the corporation authorities, should they want to recover the pipe for year-end accounting.

Night driving on Indian roads can be an exhilarating experience for those with the mental make up of Genghis Khan. In a way, it is like playing Russian roulette, because you do not know who amongst the drivers is loaded. What looks like premature dawn on the horizon turns out to be a truck attempting a speed record. On encountering it, just pull partly into the field adjoining the road until the phenomenon passes.

Our roads do not have shoulders, but occasional boulders. Do not blink your lights expecting reciprocation. The only dim thing in the truck is the driver, and with the peg of illicit arrack (alcohol) he has had at the last stop, his total cerebral functions add up to little more than a naught. Truck drivers are the James Bonds of India, and are licensed to kill. Often you may encounter a single powerful beam of light about six feet above the ground.This is not a super motorbike, but a truck approaching you with a single light on, usually the left one. It could be the right one, but never get too close to investigate. You may prove your point posthumously.

I think this can apply to any city in India

Whisky

If it is a weekend, the entire group of friends and their wives meet at someone's house for food and games. Of course, kids join in, too. And there the fun starts. The naughtiest, and perhaps, the most active of them kids was there, too, when my pad was the chosen location for the evening. The usual round of interviewing the kid started.


"Beta, what is your full name?"
With utmost discipline he promptly gave his name.

"Where do you stay, beta?"
After a few gulps of juice, he told his entire address. And everyone was intently listening to his stammering replies.

"Do you go to school?"
With all the patience, he could muster, he said loudly - "Yes"

"What is the name of your school?"
Still patient, he said - "Whisskee nursery school"

"What? What nursery school?"
"Whiskeee. Whissskeee." Almost spitting on the interviewers face at that long 's'.

"Whisky?"
Just then his papa intervened to clarify that his child is normal and goes to a institution named 'Whiz Kid nursery school'