Movie Review: Four Weddings and A Funeral

directed by- Mike Newell            rating- 8/10

There are movies which intially get you excited then leave you in the middle of the plot like a heartless mistress. I have been addicted to stories even before my dad used to make me these fantasy tales with flying horses. Not surprisingly i was the main protagonist and the hero. Movies seem to me like an extension of the lost childhood and mysterious characters which never seem to satisfy me. I have been sceptical about romantic comedies since a long time. But Four weddings and a Funeral just changed my mind.It starts off in a bit of an odd fashion. But the usual style of the average guy falling for a pretty girl just couldnt have been different. The concept of stretching out the movie across a wide timeline seemed quite bold at that time. The characters are close to real life and are less phony. And without doubt Hugh Grant steals the limelight. There is one scene in which he goes to the  church and starts apologising to God for the “Misdemeanour” and immediately goes-” BUGGER BUGGER BUGGER”. Well maybe they are right- Brits do have a wicked sense of humour. The movie never lets up the pace once it starts with the first wedding. There is spontaneity which makes you feel that its possible even in real life. The deaf brother of Hugh Grant nails the climax scene when it becomes too exciting to bear. The feel good factor at the end even after a disaster will leave a good after taste.

The priest-in-training and his dialogue light up the scene. There are moments which only make you wish if it could be possible in real life. The casting seems spot on. Direction is beautiful. Although the movie could have done a better job at soundtrack and the a little crisp editting. Please leave your comments below and do poll..

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Tapri- a review

Tapri- a review.

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one last smoke before i die…

one last smoke before i die….

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Nahargarh

Nahargarh.

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Nahargarh

Lets face it, most of us had not heard the name of this place before the movie-Rang de Basanti made it to the top of the box office hits. Unfortunately i had not heard of it till i made it to the college(3 years after the movie was released). But it seems i was rewarded for my ignorance. I am not really fond of historical places.They simply bore me to death. Its actually pretty ironical since my dad,my mum even my brother are masters in history and have gone to teach at the university level. My only connection appeared to have been snapped at the teander age of 15 once i made it through my 10th without flunking in history. But strangely enough, i would listen to the stories behind every historical event like cartoon show of a 10 year old. I owe that completely to my mom who narrated me bed time stories spiced up with actual historical events. It was only when i made it to the Scindia School that i could finally get close to the beauty of our own history. The Scindia School is situted at the medieval fort on a hill overlooking the city of Gwalior.It was a breathtaking place whose beauty i could only partially appreciate when i was there. But forgive my naievity,i was only kid back then. Once i made it to my college days and landed in Jaipur(another historically famous city) i could see at the Nahargarh fort with admiration and awe.

My first visit to this place might seem to my readers as a little mis-adventurous,but i must ask for forgiveness beforehand as i was in world which only a fresher to college away from his parents supervision can understand. It was this one night when my flatmates back then, had got completely smashed, in crude terms-drunk to the hilt. Now logically they should have kept it cool and simply slept,or better still thrown up and started drinking again. But they were a different lot all together. They wanted to enact the scene of Rang de Basanti from the top of the kund in Nahargarh. I am a tetoteller . I was sober enough to understand the suicidal trip they were onto. Its a pain in the ass to make a drunk understand basic physics, so i tried psychology. Once you get high-spirited, you seem to think of all the drunkards around you as your Bhai(brother).I convinced one of my drunk-bhai and to let me the honour of riding while he sat as pillon. So all the 5 insane bhai’s and one idiot non-bhai zipped off on the deserted roads of jaipur towards Nahargarh.

I did not expect what i was about to experience.The route towards Nahargarh takes you from the Jal-Mahal which shimmers under the night sky. The bike i was riding was Karizma-225cc. The route was a winding one and it took some skill to control the twists and turns.There was greenery on the either side of the hill as we pierced through the road uphill. It felt like as if we were actually discovering this place in pitch darkness of the night. The single beam of the bike made it feel like as if the path awaited our arrival. The sheer ambience made the valley appear both creepy and simply magical. I am not much of a rider,but the joy i got from simply climbing this hill side is hard to forget. The road rushes too meet the tyre underneath as you brush against the overgrown bushes on the sides. Under the moonlight and the sound of buzzing 3 bikes we reached the top in 40 minutes from our home in Malviya Nagar. There was no-one else at the top. i could easily identify the place where the scene in the movie was shot, even a 10 year old could tell that the actual shot must have taken a helluva cleaning of the face and some massive facelifting. The water was not only very shallow but very dirty.The green algae which floated on top could have made a good recipy for fear factor parcipants to dare step into. My dear Bhai’s were participants of fearless-factor that night. They had a point to prove and a jump to make. It took me 15 minutes of hysterical imploring not to try this out. To my relief, they relented.

kund

The view from the top is beautiful. The wind was strong enough to enact the scence from Titanic, only if one could dare kissing a drunk-dude. The shimmering lights of the city streched up till the horizon. The gradual cuts of the Arravali traced the night sky at a distance. i felt light. i stood there mersmerised. it was pointless even to say how breathtaking it looked. I was secretly thanking my inaberrated friends for their stupidity. I think the thought was a little premature since it suddenly overtook them with the desire to barge into the Fort gate which was locked to keep people like us away who can actually piss over entire restoration. Some people proudly leave their names etched like invading force from the Land of Morons. But how dare a 20 feet gate keep 5 drunkards away from achieving their noble cause.They simply broke the smaller doors latch which was the part of the bigger one. We sneaked into the realm of the unknown ready to run if anyone came chasing us. It was just too dark to make out anything apart from the sillouete of the parapett walls and some buildings which stood at a distance . As we crept a little closer, we could hear some rustling at a distance. One of the guys,Raj, stopped dead in his tracks. He raised his hand to motion everyone to keep it quiet as he moved in the direction if the sound. I think the problems with these kinds of horror-film-setting is that too many Indian movies have a dead old women in precisely these situations. And no matter how hard you try having happy thoughts, its the stupid child in you squeals like a pig out of fear. But my brave friend Raj inched a little closer unlike our over-worked heart and shaking legs. We saw light move around the balcony.Thats all was required to drain all alcohol out of their body. we ran like mad men. some one fell. As i stopped to pick him up,i tried not to look back back. but i could feel someone standing in the balcony with a small lantern. The chill ran down my spine like as if someone had actually grabbed me in darkness. Picking my friend up, i ran like never before. It might simply have been a gaurd, but to our minds it was impossible to accept our sheer stupidity. How could we resist the temptation making this the story of lifetime when we saw the ghost at the fort.

jaipur under my feet..hah!

The journey down the hill felt like a victorious return. But i must caution my readers, it is dumb to think that the way to the fort is simply fun. It is dangerous and one shuld be careful. After that ,i have been to the fort both in light of the day and to see the sunrise. i had seen the sun rising from the parapett walls of the Scindia School too, but this was in a league of its own. I had gone there when the dawn had just broken the first light of red hue across the sky. The climb to the fort was even more beautiful this time with my love, my own bike and two of my friends. There was a portion of the wall which had fallen off. It gave us the view towards the sunrise coming behind the  Arravali range. It was poetic. I am not a morning person. But if i could just see this view everyday, i swear i can go to sleep at 8 just to watch the sun gradually change the colours of the sky as it turns from pink to orange and finally yellow. This is the place for camera and your girlfriend, if she is not a sleepy head. I could hear the noise slowly increasing from the city as it woke from the deep slumber.

pee-ka-boo with the sun..

sunrise from the top

The next visit happened when a really close friend came from Delhi. We went there in the broad day light. There was heavy traffic coming down hill and couple of buses inching uphill.It was too narrow for two lane traffic moving smoothly. And i could feel my aching ankles begging the gear box to work on its own. There is a small restaurant called Durg which also serves cold beer and some over priced meals.There were some people who had hukkah with them. Some played the dhinchak bollywood number. Some had simply come hoping this place might rub off some cool movie attitude onto them. Thank god i had come when the humanity kept their idiocity just to their dreams. And to my horror the broken wall was also repaired ,and the view to the city was blocked. One must see the interiors of the fort and how symmetrically it had been designed. Lookin at some designs and the view you can only wish to be born as a royalty in the era when Rajputana stood at its height of glory and splendour.

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towards the fort,just infront of jal mahal

towards the fort,just infront of jal mahal

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An ode to dhoti…

hawan

I am not a traditional Indian guy. I somewhere in between.i love jagjeet singh as much as cold play, maybe a little more. And when it comes to deciding whether I am a die hard atheist,I feel the scared puppy whining inside of me. So when it came upon deciding whether dhoti would do some justice to my wannabe dual personality, I did not know the real repercussions. Well let me put it straight, its beyond what you see and feels funnier than a lungi.
Today was the inauguration- Grih-Pravesh of our new house and I was in the waiting line for sitting for the ceremony as ,y father had nagging pain in his knee. So I got all excited to try the dhoti. Well its one thing coming all gloriously naked infront of your parents once you were a kid, but completely embarrassing even in your boxers at this post pubic stage. So my test began the second my I stepped out of my shower and the first question my dad asked me-have you got your underwear on?- hmmm let me guess, I think this must be the second most embarrassing moment. the most embarrassing was soon to follow. So I threw my towel covering my shame as my dad demopstrated the nuances of tying a dhoti. It somehow wrapped itself around me looking fairly sober.but the problem happened when I turned to observe myself in the mirror. I was ,without moment’s doubt, looking like the teenage girl trying saree for the first time. With the graceful tuck of the well folded dhoti, I found it difficult to even move my legs.i had to move my legs in diagonals so I could avoid a impending fall by stepping on it.
My mom simply disapproved me of the style in which I was wearing the dhoti. I was immediately ordered to strip and wrap it up again spank in the middle of the drawing room with three others observing me under a microscope.well this time ,it indeed made me look a little better and I felt my legs could feel their lungs once again.i trooped outside with an arm length of errands and time running short for the ceremony to begin. Its once thing wearing a dhoti, but who on earth drives wearing one? Just picking my dhoti up and care fully putting it in the car made me feel like a queen Elizabeth in her dressing gown on Halloween. Stretching my legs I somehow reached the pedals. The hunt for a simple bamboo stick took us deep into a place where the whiteness of my dhoti was endangered,but I had a point to prove. Somehow I pulled out a long bamboo stick by with holding on to my dhoti with my dear life.
i was aware of the eyes fixed on me who were not only curious what was i doing dressed like babu-moshai.

Even before my babmboo hunting was over,i was ordered to get 100 roshogollas.not that i was feeling any less of a bengli already but i was feeling a little sympathetic to their daily uncomfort.i just needed to learn to chew paan and spit it on roadside to prove my tranformation from rajput to bengali. i again ninja hopped onto my
car and managed to avoid any road accidents. now as soon as i stepped out of my car i felt a little light. i was finally getting a hang of driving with dhoti,and getting out of the car like a model wearing a mini skirt,unlike my legs apart in all its alpha manliness. the best part is the feeling of breeze under there, its like you finally realize the nerve ending getting breath of fresh air. but this time it seemed i had bargained for just a little more than required freedom. my dhoti cam off. spank in the middle of the road which was overlooking a market place. i went cold,but hey, i am cool guy how can i let everyone know that i fucked up. not acting alarmed,which i was, carefully picked my leftover embarrasment and simply tucked the damned thing like towel.I could not afford to look people in the eye,so i simply focused on distant object. i could see the shopkeeper who had sold me the jokeys admire the product with an smirk and a wink. damn, so much for the experiment…
the temptation was high to simply throw the damn thing away. admission of defeat when you have been accused of beaing careless is too much of a price. i stayed on with the brave ace and did finally manage to win just enough compliment. the ceremony went smoothly and as i was about to step in the car, my uncle comes and whispers me-“you know you look good in dhoti. but whats with the style which bares half of you undies from behind, some new style..?”
someone..please kill me.

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