Now this is what I experienced today while coming down to office - am one of those few fortunate people on Bangalore Road, who dont have to drive while commuting to office - so I have the privilege of observing the drivers on drive on the road. And based on my 3 and a 1/2 months thesis, I have formulated this Rule Book of Road Rage. Enjoy, and feel free to add anything I might have missed out (those this has been developed on the basis of Bangalore roads, am sure, every city in India will get benefitted by this - as we believe in Unity in Diversity)
1. Weave through the traffic like an accomplished bra-tailor and shout obscenities at everyone else in the morning. It gets your system all fired up, adrenaline and testosterone flowing out through your nostrils along with all the phlegm thanks to the pollution. Remember , expressing and venting your anger out on strangers on the road is great. It will help you be more calm with the people you know at work and home.
2.Try not to break the rules on the road. But don’t ever EVER spare the ones who do. Remind them of the rules as you drive by, cutting on the other side of the road. Show them the 2 handed birdie, the middle finger as you past them, with both your hands off the wheel. Don’t worry about the safety of others. They should know how to get out of your way. After all, you’re just reprimanding an evil-doer.
3. Pull alongside the offenders and start laughing hysterically at them. Ask them if they must be really proud of themselves for breaking the rule. Remember, laughter is good, especially when you’re laughing at someone else’s face. Start farting at will and follow them up with loud sounds and sighs of relief. Tell them how happy you feel to have shared that rather private moment with someone as incredible as him. However, if the driver has a chick next to him, look horrified and tell him how senseless and utterly disgusting he is. If the chick is hot and remotely sensible, she will not want to be with farty-two-shoes and she might get into your vehicle. Keep your options open.
4. If the driver is a guy and he has his wife/ gf with him, you’ve got him at a perfect time. Tell him how terrible he is at driving and that he learns the rules and how to drive first. Tell him it makes him look really dumb and silly. Guy would get so friggin embarrassed in front of his chick that he’d never do it again. If she’s hot and remotely sensible, there’s even a slight chance that she might walk out of his car and get into yours. Keep your options open.
5. If the driver is a girl/woman and has her bf sitting with her, express surprise at her bf’s ineptitude at not being able to teach her. Sympathize with her situation and tell her its really not her fault , and it’s that cave-dweller’s fault that she’s so fucked up. If she’s hot and remotely sensible, she might kick the guy out of the car and follow you. Keep your options open.
6. Night-time offense- To annoy the driver behind you, start pressing and releasing your brakes to the beat of a timbaland song blaring loud from your system. The brake lights will provide a psychedelic effect like a 70s abba song on the sorry-assed driver’s face behind you. There is a possibility that there might be a hot chick in that car. If she’s hot and remotely sensible, she will actually realize that you are uber-cool and walk out that car and get into yours. Keep your options open.
7. Those Cell-crazy bikers : These guys appear so because of their tendency to drive and magically fit the cellphone between their shoulder and ear as they drive by. They think they have supreme control of their two-wheelers,where as they are actually scaring the shit out with their curvacious projectile on the road. Don’t they just PISS YOU OFF?!?! Pretend that you are Count Dracula himself and stick your head out as you drive along side him and try to take a bite from your his exposed neck. There could be a chick who’s sitting behind him. If she’s hot and remotely sensible, she might feel simultaneously charmed, mystified, scared and shocked by your act- most of which is enough to get drive them crazy. She may get out of the cell-obsessed jerk’s bike and ride with you. Keep your options open.
Hope my husband doesnt get any idea from all this and starts keeping his options open every time he is driving on the road!!!
Friday, November 28, 2008
Friday, November 14, 2008
Blind Love
I can hear what you say
I sense we’re in a bind
I can touch what you say
So what if I’m blind?
I understand you
Better than most others
Engulfed in your hair
Smelling the flowers
The perfume of your hair
Lifts me out of despair
The darkness everywhere
Asks me, do I dare?
Am I fit to be your lover?
Blind, willing to bend lower
This is what tears me apart
Our love, will it have a start?
In pursuit of a dream
Hoping you will understand
About to spill over the brim
My shaky conscience; it can’t stand
I sense we’re in a bind
I can touch what you say
So what if I’m blind?
I understand you
Better than most others
Engulfed in your hair
Smelling the flowers
The perfume of your hair
Lifts me out of despair
The darkness everywhere
Asks me, do I dare?
Am I fit to be your lover?
Blind, willing to bend lower
This is what tears me apart
Our love, will it have a start?
In pursuit of a dream
Hoping you will understand
About to spill over the brim
My shaky conscience; it can’t stand
Alvi - DADA
When Dada announced his retirement under obvious pressure from the selectors, my first reaction, as a long-time fan, was a sense of disappointment. Once again in his life, Sourav Ganguly was being given a raw deal more so as he has been playing some of his best cricket over the last few years and so should not have been the first in the firing line. Once the inevitability of the retirement sunk in, there were a wistful reminiscence about the defining moments of his career and a grudging acceptance of what was to happen. His retirement was only a matter of time, if not this series then the one down the road. Given that reality, he deserved the chance to leave with his head held high and if indeed his neck was forever going to be on the chopping block, no matter what he scored, then at his age there was no need to let himself be subject to humiliation.
“There is no reason to get overtly sentimental”, I told myself. This attachment to our old heroes is like our attachment to the first love letter or an old greetings card and once we realize that their time is up, it should be logical to let them go. (Though I cannot do that myself in my life, and hence suffer more than is required to, at times)
And so why should we feel bad at Ganguly’s retirement? Sourav as a person had made millions from the game and is sure to have a very fulfilling post-cricket life whether it be as a businessman, or as a cricket administrator or a media personality or as is speculated the CPM candidate against Didi. Dada vs Didi—now that is one contest I would love to see and readers on this blog would know which side I will be rooting for. And it’s not as if I would never see him again, he would be in the black-and-gold uniform in the three-ring-circus of IPL very soon even though I knew that for Dada IPL would be like “exchanging a walk-on part in the war for a lead role in a cage”.
Most importantly, at the age of 32....(ok, ok, 33), mature people should live by the wisdom of Govinda’s immortal words “Control yaar” when dealing with non-critical life issues like a favorite sportsman retiring. Only 22 year olds, who empathize with filmstars and cricketers as if they were their own flesh and blood, ought to lose sleep over such trivialities. Right?
For all these reasons , my sadness at Sourav’s retirement was muted to a large extent. Instead there was a prayer than his last series does not overwhelm him, that his performances do not dip alarmingly and that another opportunity is not presented to his haters (and there are many of them) to give him a kick in his teeth with a “We told you. He has been finished a long time ago”.
But that did not happen. Sourav had his best series ever against Australia, showing solidity in the middle order never letting his impending retirement cast a shadow over his performances, which was crowned with a century at Mohali and a throwing-back-the-years partnership with partner-in-crime Sachin Tendulkar.
Till we came to Nagpur. The end of the road. The place where his legacy was sought to be finished by lesser mortals many years ago.Would he emulate Guru Greg by scoring a century in his last and first match? Alas that was not to be as h fell for 85 in the first innings. No matter I thought; the six off Jason Krejza in his style of old was compensation enough for staying awake late at night. I smiled to myself when I heard people from Ganguly’s locality, Behala tell a Bengali channel that they would appeal to ICC to credit Ganguly with a century if he scored fifteen runs in the second innings. Really !
Not that Sourav gave his fans that chance. As the Australian fielders ran toward Jason Krejza as he came up with a caught and bowled, there was a fleeting moment of disbelief—surely this is not the way we thought it would end. That feeling was gone however as reality sunk in and as Sourav looked longingly at the sky for a brief second as a sign of thanksgiving or heavenly reproach and then walked off, rapidly, without any show of emotion and with not even a bat raised to the sky, still visibly cross with himself, all I thought was “Oh no India is going to lose this one”.
The next day of course my fears were proven to be unfounded. The series was wrapped up. Ganguly was raised onto the shoulders. He was mercifully not asked to speak (at least I did not catch it) and was “left alone with his glory”. The best moment of the night for me was to see the Fab Four together, side by side, wreathed in smiles, all together in the team for one last time, —-like all great bands, they had their moments of discord but what music had they given us, what memories !
Of course the last most poignant moment was Ganguly, trying desperately to remain stoic, coming out to acknowledge his cheering fans and then on public request, in the manner of an old conjurer performing his favorite act at the curtain call, repeating his iconic gesture at Lords of taking his shirt off. There was no anger now. No rage. Or even if there was, he did not show it.
There was a wave to the crowd. And then he was gone. For ever.
And at that moment, I felt happy. Really happy for Ganguly, for all that he had achieved and how he was leaving, not with a whimper but with all his guns blazing, a privilege he sorely deserved.
“There is no reason to get overtly sentimental”, I told myself. This attachment to our old heroes is like our attachment to the first love letter or an old greetings card and once we realize that their time is up, it should be logical to let them go. (Though I cannot do that myself in my life, and hence suffer more than is required to, at times)
And so why should we feel bad at Ganguly’s retirement? Sourav as a person had made millions from the game and is sure to have a very fulfilling post-cricket life whether it be as a businessman, or as a cricket administrator or a media personality or as is speculated the CPM candidate against Didi. Dada vs Didi—now that is one contest I would love to see and readers on this blog would know which side I will be rooting for. And it’s not as if I would never see him again, he would be in the black-and-gold uniform in the three-ring-circus of IPL very soon even though I knew that for Dada IPL would be like “exchanging a walk-on part in the war for a lead role in a cage”.
Most importantly, at the age of 32....(ok, ok, 33), mature people should live by the wisdom of Govinda’s immortal words “Control yaar” when dealing with non-critical life issues like a favorite sportsman retiring. Only 22 year olds, who empathize with filmstars and cricketers as if they were their own flesh and blood, ought to lose sleep over such trivialities. Right?
For all these reasons , my sadness at Sourav’s retirement was muted to a large extent. Instead there was a prayer than his last series does not overwhelm him, that his performances do not dip alarmingly and that another opportunity is not presented to his haters (and there are many of them) to give him a kick in his teeth with a “We told you. He has been finished a long time ago”.
But that did not happen. Sourav had his best series ever against Australia, showing solidity in the middle order never letting his impending retirement cast a shadow over his performances, which was crowned with a century at Mohali and a throwing-back-the-years partnership with partner-in-crime Sachin Tendulkar.
Till we came to Nagpur. The end of the road. The place where his legacy was sought to be finished by lesser mortals many years ago.Would he emulate Guru Greg by scoring a century in his last and first match? Alas that was not to be as h fell for 85 in the first innings. No matter I thought; the six off Jason Krejza in his style of old was compensation enough for staying awake late at night. I smiled to myself when I heard people from Ganguly’s locality, Behala tell a Bengali channel that they would appeal to ICC to credit Ganguly with a century if he scored fifteen runs in the second innings. Really !
Not that Sourav gave his fans that chance. As the Australian fielders ran toward Jason Krejza as he came up with a caught and bowled, there was a fleeting moment of disbelief—surely this is not the way we thought it would end. That feeling was gone however as reality sunk in and as Sourav looked longingly at the sky for a brief second as a sign of thanksgiving or heavenly reproach and then walked off, rapidly, without any show of emotion and with not even a bat raised to the sky, still visibly cross with himself, all I thought was “Oh no India is going to lose this one”.
The next day of course my fears were proven to be unfounded. The series was wrapped up. Ganguly was raised onto the shoulders. He was mercifully not asked to speak (at least I did not catch it) and was “left alone with his glory”. The best moment of the night for me was to see the Fab Four together, side by side, wreathed in smiles, all together in the team for one last time, —-like all great bands, they had their moments of discord but what music had they given us, what memories !
Of course the last most poignant moment was Ganguly, trying desperately to remain stoic, coming out to acknowledge his cheering fans and then on public request, in the manner of an old conjurer performing his favorite act at the curtain call, repeating his iconic gesture at Lords of taking his shirt off. There was no anger now. No rage. Or even if there was, he did not show it.
There was a wave to the crowd. And then he was gone. For ever.
And at that moment, I felt happy. Really happy for Ganguly, for all that he had achieved and how he was leaving, not with a whimper but with all his guns blazing, a privilege he sorely deserved.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Emotions
I have always been accused of being "extremely emotional" by different kinds of people, starting from my friends, wellwishers, my manager, to even the closest ones. In college, my friends used to call me an "emotional fool" - but for me it was always a compliment. I knew i could emote more than any of my friends at any given point of time, and that made me feel good about myself, regardless of what others said. I mean, you change yourself only if you think a particular trait of yours is not good or can be replaced by a better alternative. But for me, being emotional always was, and still is, the best attribute of mine. Emotions come with a parcel of so many attributes - kindness, empathy, understanding, passion, love , i mean, you just name it! So I never thought of letting go of this trait ever.
I give more importance to relationships than anything else in life. I value human bonds more than anything else in life. If am a fool to think that way, so be it. Sentimental movies bring tears to my eyes, even if I am watching it for the 100th time! If am a fool to do so, then be it. Children bring smile on my face, even if they are strangers to me. If I am fool because of this, so be it. Unknowingly, I bless every couple I see on roads. Romantic cards, mushy romantic songs boost my spirits up. I believe in fairy tales, I beilieve in angels, I believe in wishes. I believe people who live us for the greater journey beyond life, become stars and watch us from the sky above. I believe Santa is there (my daughter doesnt). I remember, in my college, when I would passionately discuss "love" and ideals of love, my friends would laugh at me. That never stopped me from beilieving in my dreams.
Why am I even talking about all these? Because, when friends called me "emotional fools" I took it by my stride and paid not much attention to it. When my manager, once told me to overcome my emotions in corporate world, I didnt pay much heed to his advise. But when, that one special person accused me of being emotional and one who hypes on "Self pity" to get others' attention, I just coudnot take it... at times you are so deeply hurt, that you forget to cry... you forget to complain... u just accept it and take that lump inside you. Its like a tumor, which gives you pain, but you hide it from everybody, because you are afraid of the diagnosis.
Am living with that lump, a lump thats growing bigger every moment. I will live with this permanent lump forever, and probably not even talk about it, because the moment I share this lump with my friends, they will laugh at me and call me an "emotional fool". Since this is personal, I will not discuss this with my manager for sure, and if with all my heart I go to that special person and tell him how am feeling, I will be diagnosed once again as one who has this "accuse syndrome of creating self pity to attract attention" - dont know much about the disease, but the diagnosis itself is too much to bear.
Will leave you all with a quote that I once came across
"Don't cry in any relationship, cos the person who loves you will never let you cry, and the person who you cry for, is not worth your love"
I understand this - but my tears dont... they are more emotional than I am.
I give more importance to relationships than anything else in life. I value human bonds more than anything else in life. If am a fool to think that way, so be it. Sentimental movies bring tears to my eyes, even if I am watching it for the 100th time! If am a fool to do so, then be it. Children bring smile on my face, even if they are strangers to me. If I am fool because of this, so be it. Unknowingly, I bless every couple I see on roads. Romantic cards, mushy romantic songs boost my spirits up. I believe in fairy tales, I beilieve in angels, I believe in wishes. I believe people who live us for the greater journey beyond life, become stars and watch us from the sky above. I believe Santa is there (my daughter doesnt). I remember, in my college, when I would passionately discuss "love" and ideals of love, my friends would laugh at me. That never stopped me from beilieving in my dreams.
Why am I even talking about all these? Because, when friends called me "emotional fools" I took it by my stride and paid not much attention to it. When my manager, once told me to overcome my emotions in corporate world, I didnt pay much heed to his advise. But when, that one special person accused me of being emotional and one who hypes on "Self pity" to get others' attention, I just coudnot take it... at times you are so deeply hurt, that you forget to cry... you forget to complain... u just accept it and take that lump inside you. Its like a tumor, which gives you pain, but you hide it from everybody, because you are afraid of the diagnosis.
Am living with that lump, a lump thats growing bigger every moment. I will live with this permanent lump forever, and probably not even talk about it, because the moment I share this lump with my friends, they will laugh at me and call me an "emotional fool". Since this is personal, I will not discuss this with my manager for sure, and if with all my heart I go to that special person and tell him how am feeling, I will be diagnosed once again as one who has this "accuse syndrome of creating self pity to attract attention" - dont know much about the disease, but the diagnosis itself is too much to bear.
Will leave you all with a quote that I once came across
"Don't cry in any relationship, cos the person who loves you will never let you cry, and the person who you cry for, is not worth your love"
I understand this - but my tears dont... they are more emotional than I am.
Happy Birthday
A man, in fact an average man, turns 68 today. The man who taught me how to walk, the man who took me to the zoo and got me introduced to the animals from my coloring books! The man who would sit with me in the balcony and show me the stars... the man who later on helped me with my sums, the man who always criticised me for my handwriting, even though his is worse than mine, the man who always stood by my side, and still does... its his 68th birthday today.
My father strongest! was a tag line for one of the recent ads on air. Today if I look back, I know my father is not the strongest, neither he is the most successful, the richest man in the world. But even then, he is the best father for me, and will always remain that way. Unlike other father-daughter relationships, ours is not a very close one. I mean, I dont remember my father hugging me ever. I dont remember me discussing my problems with him ever. Infact my husband still laughs at the fact that when we were getting married, my father was sleeping (yes, it was pretty late at night, and my father cannot stay up awake so late). My father cant have intellectual discussions with you. He is not thay type.
He is reserved, he is an introvert - a music lover, who can play any kind of musical instrument without getting any formal training - nowadays, rich kids of rich parents go for Piano classes, but I think he is the best piano player i have seen, though he never got any formal training - talking about inborn talent.
This post is not a literary masterpiece. This is just my emotions about my father. The first man I have interacted with, and grown up seeing. My father - a middleclass, average human being with a heart of gold. A true family man. A fantastic husband, a great father, and now, an adorable grandpa.
Each and every role he played in life, he played it with utmost sincerity - thats what makes him special, amidst all his so called faults. Faults reminds me, his temper is something i was always very scared of - no! he never hit me, he just didnt require to - one cold look from his side would ensure am back to track incase had deviated.
Maa says, I am exactly like my father - that makes me so happy. I want to be like him. I have never seen a more peace loving person than him. Both of us are very laid back and relaxed! Miles away from crowd, we prefer silence over everything else. And we love to eat!!! And the most remarkable similarity is our spendthrift nature! Maa always criticises us for that, but who cares!
Baba, on your birthday, I cannot give you what all you gave me on my birthdays, but I take this opportunity to thank you for everything I got from you - yeah, those cold looks as well.
A very happy birthday to you, and many happy returns of the day!
With Tears...
If I were a tear in your eyes
I would lie on your cheeks and die on your lips
But if you were a tear in my eyes
I would never cry in fear of losing you
I would lie on your cheeks and die on your lips
But if you were a tear in my eyes
I would never cry in fear of losing you
Friday, September 19, 2008
Free India
If you think that India is a nice peaceful safe place to live in then you are unbelievably dumb and misinformed. From terrorism to inflation, we have pretty much every single problem known to mankind. Most of the population is either stupid or doesn’t really care. I don’t mind these people, I have nothing against the mentally challenged or the apathetic. The people I really hate are the ones who know about these problems but still delude themselves and others into thinking that this dump is a great place to live in... I remember the pledge that we were to utter everyday in our school assembly... India is my country...all Indians are my brothers and sisters...I love my country and am proud of it's rich and varied heritage...
As kids, we were fooled...
You may argue that other countries have such problems too. The difference is, in India none of these problems are recognised, discussed or worked upon. Only a few major scandals even make it into the limelight and then the media covers it for days until the next celebrity comes along to be interviewed. However things that happen in daily life are ignored or accepted as part of life.
Ordinary citizens cannot highlight problems either. No one wants a visit from the thugs of a local politician. That’s what happens if you complain. Call the cops? What a joke. We all know the cops are corrupt scum who are only interested in how much money they can get out you.
You think we have freedom?
Welcome to India.
Only the other day the Indian Mujra-hideen sent a terror email from an insecure wireless network, an act the press respectfully informed us ” as hacking into a wireless account”. Bombs went off. People died. Which city was it that day?
Jaipur, Varanasi, Bangalore, Surat, Delhi, Mumbai or somewhere else ?
Does it matter to you or me as long as our loved ones are safe (for the time being)?
Does the significance of the fact that terrorists need only a few months to organize another high-profile attack, even after a few of them get arrested, sink into the national psyche?
Do we, as a nation, understand that the whole “spirit of the city” feel-good is nothing but an euphemism for people becoming so inured to flying ball-bearings and bloody corpses that they accept terrorist violence as a fact of life, like traffic jams and power cuts ?
Do people realize that when Shivraj Patil warns of “stringent punishment” to the perpetrators of the blast that he isn’t just re-reading the statement he prepared a few months ago for the last blast? Do the citizens know that once he has done with his “I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who would attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee” message of future retribution , that he vanishes into a dark corner, away from the national eye, where he puts on a Batman costume and personally hunts down the terrified evil doe-rs while riding his Bat bicycle?
Do I realise, that after every bomb blast or terrorist attack, I criticse my country and its honorable leaders more or less the same way, because I, like the nation, have nothing new to say or do?
Welcome to India. Welcome to our world.
As kids, we were fooled...
You may argue that other countries have such problems too. The difference is, in India none of these problems are recognised, discussed or worked upon. Only a few major scandals even make it into the limelight and then the media covers it for days until the next celebrity comes along to be interviewed. However things that happen in daily life are ignored or accepted as part of life.
Ordinary citizens cannot highlight problems either. No one wants a visit from the thugs of a local politician. That’s what happens if you complain. Call the cops? What a joke. We all know the cops are corrupt scum who are only interested in how much money they can get out you.
You think we have freedom?
Welcome to India.
Only the other day the Indian Mujra-hideen sent a terror email from an insecure wireless network, an act the press respectfully informed us ” as hacking into a wireless account”. Bombs went off. People died. Which city was it that day?
Jaipur, Varanasi, Bangalore, Surat, Delhi, Mumbai or somewhere else ?
Does it matter to you or me as long as our loved ones are safe (for the time being)?
Does the significance of the fact that terrorists need only a few months to organize another high-profile attack, even after a few of them get arrested, sink into the national psyche?
Do we, as a nation, understand that the whole “spirit of the city” feel-good is nothing but an euphemism for people becoming so inured to flying ball-bearings and bloody corpses that they accept terrorist violence as a fact of life, like traffic jams and power cuts ?
Do people realize that when Shivraj Patil warns of “stringent punishment” to the perpetrators of the blast that he isn’t just re-reading the statement he prepared a few months ago for the last blast? Do the citizens know that once he has done with his “I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who would attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee” message of future retribution , that he vanishes into a dark corner, away from the national eye, where he puts on a Batman costume and personally hunts down the terrified evil doe-rs while riding his Bat bicycle?
Do I realise, that after every bomb blast or terrorist attack, I criticse my country and its honorable leaders more or less the same way, because I, like the nation, have nothing new to say or do?
Welcome to India. Welcome to our world.
Let me fly...
Round and round
Mentally unsound
On shaky ground
Insecurity profound...
The mind whirls
Emotion swirls
Dreams unwind
Destiny unkind...
One hopes
That he elopes
But one is bound
To one's ground...
To escape this cage
Needs an adage
No need to cry
One is born to fly...
Mentally unsound
On shaky ground
Insecurity profound...
The mind whirls
Emotion swirls
Dreams unwind
Destiny unkind...
One hopes
That he elopes
But one is bound
To one's ground...
To escape this cage
Needs an adage
No need to cry
One is born to fly...
Thursday, September 18, 2008
I Am
I am
Therefore I live;
I am
Therefore I breathe.
To live or not,
... is the question
To breathe or not,
... is the dilemma.
Moments of panic
That are tragic
I am lethargic
Need some magic.
Uncomfortable...
Unstable...
Unable
To be stable
I am hurt
But I wont be curt
This situation does hurt
Who'll clean up the dirt?
I will try
Not to cry
It's about time
For me to fly
Therefore I live;
I am
Therefore I breathe.
To live or not,
... is the question
To breathe or not,
... is the dilemma.
Moments of panic
That are tragic
I am lethargic
Need some magic.
Uncomfortable...
Unstable...
Unable
To be stable
I am hurt
But I wont be curt
This situation does hurt
Who'll clean up the dirt?
I will try
Not to cry
It's about time
For me to fly
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
The Dark (yawwwwwwwwn) Knight
Nobody asked me to review the movie Dark Knight. So I am doing it.
p.s. : Infact A told me not to write it - So I am doing it all the more.
The Dark Knight is a deliciously wonderful movie for anybody who grew up reading Batman comics. I didn’t grow up reading Batman comics.
In fact, I don’t even understand Batman. What does Batman have in common with a bat other than the fact that they both are classified as mammals? He can’t fly. Nor can he generate ultrasonics. I was waiting throughout the movie for the Batman to hang upside down on a tree, he didn’t do that either. I was this close to demanding my money back (ok, thats an exaggeration, I didnt wantch it in theatre - i watched it on a pirated DVD available for 30 bucks in Gariahat - I was actually close to returning that DVD and exchanging it for a Himesh reshammiya soundtrack) . Also, have you ever seen a bat fight bad guys? You never did. You know why? Because they don’t. All they do is hang in some dark corner; and when you get up on a building, lean on the wall and throw a stone, they fly up and scratch your face. Hypothetically, I mean.
Ok, now that I have given you a lecture on bat and batman, let’s talk about the cast. First of all, Christian Bale doesn’t look like a bat. He looks more like a vulture. He did his best to act and in a couple of scenes he actually showed some expressions. I wish they didn’t make his mask so tight though. Every time he wore it, it pinched his throat and his voice became very hoarse. It’s got to be pretty darn annoying fighting bad guys while gasping for air.
There was this Joker too. He was amazing. Rest in peace, Mr. Ledger.
Most people don’t notice, but there is a heroine in the movie. I saw cadavers livelier than her and blank whiteboards more interesting than her face. She is like a decorative African art on a table - nobody knows why it is there and you won’t even notice it until it catches on fire. That is precisely what happens in the movie. She moves the story along only after she is dead.
I guess my biggest gripe with this movie is that batman is not even like a hero in the movie, forget superhero. Batman gets beat up, hit by a car, bitten by dogs, shot at and slammed into a wall - in the first five minutes. It gets worse after that. What is missing in the movie is Batman’s mother so he could run whimpering to his mommy every time Joker outwits him. And in a crowing moment of glory, batman ends the movie running away being chased by street dogs.
But whatever it is, i hope by now you have understood that what I am saying here is, overall, its a great movie...
p.s. : Infact A told me not to write it - So I am doing it all the more.
The Dark Knight is a deliciously wonderful movie for anybody who grew up reading Batman comics. I didn’t grow up reading Batman comics.
In fact, I don’t even understand Batman. What does Batman have in common with a bat other than the fact that they both are classified as mammals? He can’t fly. Nor can he generate ultrasonics. I was waiting throughout the movie for the Batman to hang upside down on a tree, he didn’t do that either. I was this close to demanding my money back (ok, thats an exaggeration, I didnt wantch it in theatre - i watched it on a pirated DVD available for 30 bucks in Gariahat - I was actually close to returning that DVD and exchanging it for a Himesh reshammiya soundtrack) . Also, have you ever seen a bat fight bad guys? You never did. You know why? Because they don’t. All they do is hang in some dark corner; and when you get up on a building, lean on the wall and throw a stone, they fly up and scratch your face. Hypothetically, I mean.
Ok, now that I have given you a lecture on bat and batman, let’s talk about the cast. First of all, Christian Bale doesn’t look like a bat. He looks more like a vulture. He did his best to act and in a couple of scenes he actually showed some expressions. I wish they didn’t make his mask so tight though. Every time he wore it, it pinched his throat and his voice became very hoarse. It’s got to be pretty darn annoying fighting bad guys while gasping for air.
There was this Joker too. He was amazing. Rest in peace, Mr. Ledger.
Most people don’t notice, but there is a heroine in the movie. I saw cadavers livelier than her and blank whiteboards more interesting than her face. She is like a decorative African art on a table - nobody knows why it is there and you won’t even notice it until it catches on fire. That is precisely what happens in the movie. She moves the story along only after she is dead.
I guess my biggest gripe with this movie is that batman is not even like a hero in the movie, forget superhero. Batman gets beat up, hit by a car, bitten by dogs, shot at and slammed into a wall - in the first five minutes. It gets worse after that. What is missing in the movie is Batman’s mother so he could run whimpering to his mommy every time Joker outwits him. And in a crowing moment of glory, batman ends the movie running away being chased by street dogs.
But whatever it is, i hope by now you have understood that what I am saying here is, overall, its a great movie...
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