Jai Ho!

And the Oscars went to AR Rehman and Resul Pookutty. Indians across the globe are celebrating and Irfan Khan feels Indian Cinema is on it’s way to make a mark for itself in the world cinema. India’s first Oscar. What perhaps many do not realize is that this isn’t an Indian Oscar, just like Har Gobind Khorana’s Nobel wasn’t an Indian Nobel. This is a cinema made by a Briton out of an average Indian story by an average Indian writer that had been gathering dust in bookshops across the country. It took a Briton to realize the genius of the plot and again the average Indian author wasn’t found good enough for Indian taste so he was given a South African award and considered for awards by the Brits. And now that the average Indian Story has won the reconisition of the average world Indians are finally waking up and shedding tears of joy as two Indians won the coveted Oscars. I mean how hypocritical are we Indians? Real art has never found many takers in India, except for the high chinned snobbish Indian elite and the shabbily dressed Indian intelligent.

As far as Irfan Khan’s comments are concerned I believe it’s too far fetched, mainstream Indian cinema has to die and be born again before it becomes a truely effective art form.

Nevertheless, while the world celebrated the genius of an unknown Indian author, Vikas Swaroop, this worm of an author was working on one of his another dark short stories about death and guilt set in the scenic environs of a loo. And by mere coincidence I found myself in place of my protagonist, reading and crapping and by the time I finished I realized there wasn’t any water in the pipe and had to use toilet paper instead. And it was then that I realized how much paper we waste making something as genius and wondeful as toilet paper. I mean how many books can be published from all the paper that goes down the loo. I was reading Rushdie while I was in the loo.Rushdie happens to be an author I will always go ga-ga about, for his sheer ability to paint beautiful pictures out of words, be it Midnight’s Children or Haroun and the Sea of Strories or Satanic Verses. I dread reaching the end of his books beacause they end way too soon, I fancy being in that magical land of finely crafted words and brilliantly painted images a bit longer, perhaps that might explain why I reread Rushdie.

Oye Lucky Slumdog Millionaire!

The Academy of Motion Pictures and Sciences will unveil the Oscars in a few hours from now and I don’t know about the world but Indians are surely excited and keeping their fingers crossed. Afterall Slumdog Millionaire, a master piece, as some would call it, by Danny Boyle has been nominated in 10 categories. While many in India argue about the greatness of the movie scores of others, hardcore patriotic Indians are cheering for the movie, afterall it’s the Oscars and Indian cinema (what the fuck!) is on it’s way to make a mark in the global cinema.

When was the last time an Indian film got nominated for the Oscars, lagaan was it? Bloody heck. It always saddens me as to how Indian media and Indian Cinema industry always overlooks regional cinema when it comes to awards and recognition. I mean people went ga-ga over Om Shanti Om and something like Oye Lucky Lucky Oye, which is I would say a masterpiece, was overlooked – I mean look at the kind of mature cinema that marathi, malayalam and tamil cinema (Jeans was an exception) have produced over the years, movies like shwaas, vanaprastham and subramaniapuram are way better and way ahead of most Bollywood movies ever made and comparing them to bollywood box office hits would be trying to compare B grade Bhojpuri movies to A grade hindi movies.

Meanwhile Freida Pinto aka Latika has run into a controversy here in India and her PR agent says she would not talk to the media until the Oscars are announced. Apparently the moral brigade in the country is up in arms against poor Freida for having dumped her (now former) husband Raon Antao. I am quite surprised at this I mean no one raises this kind of noise when a man dumps a woman, the latest case being that of Chand Muhammad and Fiza. Why does the woman have to do the answering always? Why doesnt the Indian society realize that women are in no way the only ones solely responsible for the up-keeing of Indian Morals!
Going to pubs is a taboo, dumping your husband is a taboo, wearing clothes is a taboo, venturing out in the dark is a taboo and what not.

Anyway, I still think Oye Lucky Lucky Oye was killer.