Breaking up with Mr Khan

I blame myself for going to the movie. It's not like one expects quality film making from Rohit Shetty. So, I have no right to have gone to the movie with no expectations (I saw the trailer) and then sit here and bitch about one of the thinnest plots Bollywood cinema has ever seen. That's okay. I deserve this movie and by being part of the brigade that helped the movie cross the Rs 100 crore mark, I have also unwittingly become a catalyst for more such movies to be made. I have made Shah Rukh Khan richer and the country a little dumber. I don't get to whine. But then as I watched the climax of the movie, I wanted to kick every single male character in the movie swiftly in the nuts over and over and over again.

Why you ask? Well, let me take a minute and paint the climax if you will let me (*and yes, spoiler alert...yawn*). The hero (who constantly and annoyingly keeps harping on and on about the power of the 'common man'), has to fight the burly villain, while the heroine watches haplessly as her father holds her hand stopping her from going to the rescue of her one true love (a man she met days ago). Yup. In the last minutes of the movie, the girl is no more than a mute spectator, the damsel in distress and a total Kajol from the last scenes of Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge (instead of calling him babuji, the heroine calls her dad, appa and begs him to let her go but never really puts up a fight). But the hero, played by Mr Khan gets to fight and beat up big burly men in a bid to prove his own manhood. Can you please kill me now?

One might wonder how in a movie filled with cliched tropes and failings, why I chose to be angry at the one stereotype that is unlikely to ever go out of fashion in Bollywood. It's because I was absolutely turned off by how helpless and victimised the girl looked in that scene and even if it preceded the so-called happy ending (come on you knew it was going to be a happy ending!), I was uncomfortable by how tied down the woman's hands were. Then as if she was a commodity, once the hero wins his battle, her father literally hands over the girl to the new alpha dog in the community. What's worse? The girl complies with it all these proceedings only too happily. In fact, Deepika Padukone exists in the film only to wear fabulous sarees that my mom and I salivated over and screw up BOTH Tamil and Hindi at the same time. For someone who is supposed to be a "village belle", her Tamil is so atrocious that any Tamilian would wonder what language she was truly speaking in. And she exists to set feminism back to the dark ages (or as I call it - 80s Bollywood cinema). In other words, the woman is total baukwas.

When I went to Chennai Express with my parents, I knew I was going to come out of a movie once again let down by Shah Rukh Khan but I came out livid and disappointed. Khan must have perpetually gotten a - 'can do better' - remark from his teachers back in school because that's exactly what he has been told since then with his career. When you watch Swades or Chak De or even Baazigar, you immediately forgive him for Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna and every other bad film he has made along the same vein. But at some point you have say enough is enough and beg him to stop making films that exist only to help you drop more IQ points. Sure, Salman Khan makes bad movies too (and yes they are truly bad movies) but you don't expect anything else from him but when you watch Darr, you are reminded of someone who once used to be fearless with his roles. And now with Ra.One and Chennai Express, he has become an unfortunate but strangely willing punchline.Yes, he has always overacted but he has also displayed flashes of brilliance (Paheli was quite good). You were convinced that maybe just maybe he can do better. But now I can officially say that he has failed in his career. He may be laughing all the way to the bank but he no longer can boast of any kind of credibility to ever call himself an actor. He may not be a terrorist (although he does terrorise us with his bad movies) but he is definitely not a thespian.

So, here I am, a long term Shah Rukh Khan fan, (who at one point had his poster up on her bedroom wall), writing a Dear John break up letter to the very man she loved a long time ago. I can't take it anymore. I am tired of making excuses for him ("come on guys, he was so endearing in Kabhi Haan Kabhi Naa!") and have also officially fallen out of love with Mr Raj from DDLJ (I was 8 when I watched that movie and hence deserve to be cut some slack for falling one hundred per cent in love with that film). In a way Chennai Express is a blessing in disguise seeing as it has finally freed me. You see despite everything, I still continued to root for him even after watching him mix curd and spaghetti in Ra. One (because let's face it, every tambrahm mixes curd and Italian delicacies and then eats that concoction with their bare hands because we are that dumb). All it took for me for me to severe all ties from this "superstar" was to watch him in a lungi and gyrate alongside Padukone in a misguided tribute to the fabulous Rajnikanth. No, I am no longer his fan. Yes, I think he is a total sellout. And most importantly it has be iterated over and over again that he is no feminist as he purports himself to be (everyone by now knows about the Tata Tea advertisement). You see if he really thought men and women were created equal, he would not have had "his girl" passed around from man to man as though she was property. If he really believed in the power of his common man, his films would not show the common woman act stupidly (Jab Tak Hain Jaan!) or powerlessly. Screw you Shah Rukh. Goodbye. And just so you know....it's not me, this is all you babe.

What I know to be true

When I was a child, I knew what I wanted. I knew I loved love horror movies. I knew I wanted to become a writer even though I had no idea what I would write about. I knew I wanted to be Enid Blyton and be a part of someone's life the way she was part of mine. I knew I wanted to turn into a bookworm and drink in as many books as possible. I wanted to marry Prince William.

As I grew up I held onto what I knew about myself and I held to be true. I decided that I didn't like the outdoors and any world I needed to explore was right there in a wonderful book written by RK Narayan or Tolkien. Well, I wasn't wrong. I lived in more worlds than anyone could imagine and thought myself to be very happy. But then 2012 happened to me.

A person I thought was my friend tore me down, shredded me and walked away and I will forever be grateful to her because it was the best thing that ever happened to me in my life. Because instead of judging people for their life choices (as she often encouraged me to do and I happily complied), I now had the opportunity to make my own stupid decisions without the fear of being called stupid.  I found new people in my life and I lost people in my life. Prince William got married and announced to the world that he was having a kid. Many things I thought were absolute truths disproved themselves and showed me their backs and walked away.

Suddenly it was the day the world was supposed to end and it didn't. The world did not end. No hammer from the sky emerged to dissolve us all into oblivion. And I realised that I had somehow turned 25; something I swore as a child I would never let happen, but then as a kid I also did not know that one generally does not win the race against time.

So, I decided to throw everything out of the window and just be. I took up trekking and slept under the stars alongside a bunch of strangers and yet I had never felt more safe knowing that I was truly a part of the universe, even if it was the most insignificant part of it. I began to run and realised that my body can do more than just hold a book and that it can literally take me places and allow me to explore the world from a whole new perspective. I went on a vacation for the first time in years. I wore a dress.

Suddenly I was living even though I had no clue how to do it in the "right way" anymore. Books became more meaningful somehow in ways I can't yet comprehend, perhaps because I had my own experiences to compare. And I have decided I will figure out who I am as I go along. One day I can be a philosopher and one day a teacher. I can quit everything and travel for months on end or get married and have 10 children. I like the confusion and the lack of direction because that means I am discovering new paths. And I have also decided that I never had any right (even by proxy) to judge anyone in life. People make mistakes but that only proves they are human. I make mistakes.

I know we live in a world where people bomb one another, kill one another and hurt one another. Where they pave paradise and put up parking lots. But that does not mean I will lose hope. I know with every day I become older but not quite wiser but I also know that at any given moment adorable puppies are being born and you can never be cynical in a world that has puppies. I also have made new truths along the way. And here are few that I think are true, at least for now -

• I have no idea what's going to happen tomorrow so I refuse to worry about it today. Nothing is ever as good or bad you might think it is going to be, so there is only disappointment waiting for those with expectations. 
• Music makes life better. 
• Any MP3 player can be as good as an Ipod but most are not as expensive and hence can be a practical choices for someone who is very close to being broke and desperately wants music in her life. 
• Losing an ATM card is really the best thing to happen to someone as you inadvertently learn to live on a budget. 
• Having a lot of money does not necessarily make you happy. 
• Horror movies are better watched with friends.
• Mom may not always know the best but she shows up when it's important.
• You can learn everything you need to learn about life by watching your two year old niece kick a football for the first time in her life because in those moments you see a brand new human being learn how to fall and get up and try again. It's inspiring. 
• Youtube can lead to insomnia.
• A good run may not solve all your problems but you will feel better at the end of it.
• Never hold onto relationships that make you feel bad about yourself.
• Being cynical may be "cool" but being open and raw means you are courageous. 
• Walking through life with your heart in your hands is naive and stupid but infinitely better than walking around refusing to let anyone in. 
• Friends are worth getting your heart broken over.
• Curd rice is refreshing and healthy. 
• A good book can change your world.
• Unicorns exist.

Review: Gilian Flynn: Dark Places

I was never going to buy this book. Sure I was interested when I read its reviews when the book but when it came down to it, I wasn't sure if I wanted to spend a lot of money on an author I was not quite sure about as yet.

Thank god I read this book. I picked it up at the San Francisco airport during a recent vacation when I realised that I was facing two 10 hour flight journeys on the way back home and just was not feeling sleepy enough. This was just some book that was displayed prominently at some random bookstore in the airport but what happened was something quite magical - I was hooked within three pages.

The book introduces us to the ever unreliable :Libby Day, a protagonist you simply cannot trust. As a child she testified against her own brother as having killed her mother and her sisters and is now living life as a drifter. One day she is contacted by a group obsessed with solving murder mysteries and her already pathetic life is turned upside down.

What I loved about the book was its lucid voice. Right from the beginning you learn to empathise with Libby's life and her setbacks.But she is no saint and you are wholly aware of it. You are also point of view chapters from both her mother and brother dating back to the 80s when the ill-fated murder took place.

The Days are a filthy family. They are filthy people. It's not just a matter of hygiene. They simply are the kind of people one would generally avoid interacting with. The kids are always dirty and up to no good and the mother is a sad stretched woman who fantasises about dying because she simply can't take it anymore. What more, she is not a very good mother to begin with. And all that is reflected beautifully pages after pages in this gem of a book that unfolds like a thriller.

The book at once works as a commentary on poverty and also a taut murder mystery where nothing is as it seems and where everyone has a hidden agenda and there is no decent human being and everyone lies. At the heart of it all is a damn good story and a great plot that never loses its pace. At one point you are almost peeking at the next page to see what's in store for you. And what makes it truly wonderful is that you almost feel like you are one of the Days by middle of the book. You feel dirty.

I was not entirely convinced by the ending but the ride was so enjoyable that I can't complain. I loved reading this book and definitely would recommend it to not only fans of thrillers but also ones who love a good story.

It's out of stock in Flipkart but if you can get your hands on this book, don't miss the chance! www.flipkart.com/dark-places/p/itmczyzfjysk5dun?pid=9780753827031&otracker=from-search&srno=t_1&query=dark+places&ref=58113a6b-0159-41cc-88a8-fa105353fce2

The truth about my prayer

I am not hip or cool or whatever it is kids call it these days.

I am a child. A woman. A girl. A human.

And while I often wonder if there is a god out there who has time to watch over 6 billion people and billions more animals and plants,

on one measly planet in one measly solar system in one massive universe.

I can't help it. I pray. 

I pray because I am alive. 

In a universe where there could be millions of possibilities, there is only one me.

Now isn't that a miracle by itself? 

I am a miracle, I say...a pulsating, messy miracle! I pray.

I am always afraid.

Of that boy looking at me.

Of clowns, of heights, of aeroplanes, of failing...of succeeding.

But I am afraid. Isn't that just great? 

My fear is proof that I existed.

So I pray. 

I think of that dark night huddled under the stars, watching the millions of stars sparkling over me.

It was so bloody beautiful that I never slept. I watched the sun rise and start putting out those little lights one by one.

And yet the next day, I knew those stars would come out to once again play.

How lucky am I to witness that? How can I not pray? 

I think of the people who have hurt me.

Ones that I spent many days wishing them...well I wished terrible things upon them.

But don't judge me harshly, for I am only human. 

And even though I have been hurt by many a man and woman, I still go and happily place my heart in the hands of yet another one, doomed to perhaps make the same mistakes.

Call me naive but that's ok. 

It gives me reason to pray.

I think of that day in my childhood past when I should have died.

Confronted by a monster both real and at once imaginary, my feet carried me to safety.

My heart carried those scars but they too will heal one day. 

I pray. 

It's not that I am looking for something when I pray.

At least I don't think I am...

I am just grateful for what I have

It may not be much.

I am still confused about everything in my life.

And my football team may never win a trophy.

I may never marry a prince or a movie star.

And everything I have could easily be packed into two bags.

But I am here. I am part of someone's future. I am part of someone's present.

And I am already part of someone's past. 

And that means I exist for all time...infinite, like the universe.

That's gratitude my friend, for my life that is both long and incredibly short.

I smile. I pray.

And no, I don't know if there is a god out there who cares about anything I have to say.

A god who cares that I really want George R R Martin to live so I know what happens in the books that he writes.

A god who cares that I really hate Justin Beiber and I really love Jane Austin.

A god who knows that when people say hurtful things to me, I hurt for days. 

A god who cares that I really want my niece to share my love for books.

But here's what I know and while it may not be much, it's the reason I pray.

I have people I love to hug. People who may want to hug me back as well. 

I have books and music and an endless supply of television shows and movies.

I have two feet and I run. 

I have an old ancient pair of shorts, that my mom would dearly love to throw away but I keep hidden away. 

So if it so happens that one day, I meet the man or woman upstairs.
I wouldn't expect to reap the benefits of a life hopefully lived well. 

I would tell that person - dude let's hug.

You need a hug and people tell me my hugs are bloody awkward.

So let's embrace.

And pray. 

Thank you Mr Ebert

Thank you Mr Ebert

It was 2am in the morning, when I read a report that said that celebrated critic Roger Ebert had passed away. Generally I only pause when a celebrity passes away but this time around, it hit me like a ton of bricks. My eyes welled up and I couldn't choke back my tears. My favourite writer, critic, human being, the man whose opinion I trusted more than my own had passed away and I was lost.

It would not be an understatement to say that I love movies. Even now I watch up to three films a week eschewing even sleep at times and there is so much more left to explore. I came across Roger Ebert's website when I was teenager, just out of school. Up until that point, I only watched the usual popcorn fare that made box office noise and nothing more and the movies a person with a basic cable connection had access to. But Ebert introduced me to a world so fantastic and wondrous - he introduced me to a world where a great movie not only exists but is also appreciated for its merits and not its stars and a bad is rightfully derided for being, well bad.

With his guidance, I learnt to understand movies from the perspective of its screenplay, the direction, the acting, the background music. It wasn't just about enjoying a film anymore but rather seeing it for all its nitty gritties. I understood what he wrote and he patiently, through humour and empathy guided me. I discovered filmmakers like Errol Morris, Ingmar Bergman and Billy Wilder through him. I still remember the day I read his review on Some like it Hot and rushed to find a copy to view it. That movie was splendid and I laughed so hard that it hurt my sides. He was right as always.

It's not an exaggeration at all to claim that I have read every single review on his website (I have spent close to seven years visiting his website several times a week; do the Math) and have watched nearly 80 per cent of the movies that he recommended (his website has a section titled Great Movies filled with thought provoking analysis of the best films). I read his top 10 lists at the end of each year and even though I didn't always agree with him (I still cannot forgive him for hating Fight Club, a movie I love), I respected his opinion nonetheless. It remains my instinct to this day to immediately Google his review, the second a movie is out. I don't trust any other voice but his own. He was the man who introduced me to Jaws, ET, 3 Sisters, The Seventh Seal, The Graduate, The Godfather, Psycho and more movies than I can list. And today he is gone.

I had a teacher when I was pursuing post graduation from a very prominent communication's institute in the country. This teacher was supposed to take classes on film appreciation but more often than not, his classes were pure torture for me. He put down students for having opinions different from his own and he always made me feel inferior for loving Star Wars. Why am I talking about this teacher, you ask? Well, I thought of him briefly as I read the news about Roger Ebert. It was the period in my life, when watching films was a chore rather than something I did out of passion. Then I read Ebert's review of 500 Days of Summer. It was a movie I loved and it turned out, he loved the movie too. And he was able to articulate, in ways I couldn't why that film spoke to me on an emotional level. The teacher who was paid to teach me to appreciate movies very nearly killed that passion in me but Roger Ebert was the light at the end of the tunnel. Maybe that's the reason I feel lost and despondent today. He was my teacher. He was my guide and at times when I direly needed a laugh, he was my tonic for that too (do read his reviews on Movie 43 and North to truly appreciate his caustic yet amazing sense of humour).

He was also one of my inspirations. Cancer or not, voice or not, he never gave up. He kept chugging on, watching movies and spreading his love and passion to the rest of the world. He interacted actively through his website and blog and no matter what life threw at him, he was never down. So, Mr Roger Ebert, I hope you are at peace where ever you are. I hope you know that you have touched the lives of millions through your passion (and your active Tweets which I loved). I hope you are in heaven right now watching the movies you love, by directors you love. I will think of you when I watch a bad movie. I will take you with me when I watch a good one.

Thank you Chetan Bhagat for saving and changing me

Dear Mr Bhagat,

I don't know you very well but I consider myself your victim, having read two of your books (Five Point Someone and Two States). I read the former because I bent down to peer pressure and read what everyone else was reading at the time much to my own disappointment and read the latter because a friend insisted that I was exactly like the female protagonist (side note: just because I am also an Iyer from South India does not mean I am anything like the horrendous female protagonist in the book!).

Anyway it is sufficient to say I am familiar with your (bad) prose and therefore as a rule I avoid your column in Times of India and refuse to venture anywhere near your blog for the sake of my own sanity. However unfortunately for me, your words always seem to seep into popular culture (i.e Facebook) and I find myself wondering why anyone would take you seriously. I have however for the most part kept my peace because frankly my dear I could not care any less. However I could not help myself, when I chanced upon your blog on women's day where you have given women advice on how to change themselves for the better. (http://www.chetanbhagat.com/columns/five-things-women-need-to-change-about-themselves/). I wanted to respond to your highly scientific take on women. Bear with me for a few moments (the emotional fool that I am) and hear what I have to say here.

The first behaviour that needs to end is the constant desire to judge other women. Women are hard on themselves. 

Right at the beginning you have characterised all women as being catty and judgmental.  I am not going to sit here and say that I have never judged anyone in my entire life but rather want to point out that everyone judges and it is not an exclusive trait reserved only for women. According to (Everybody judges) statistics a "first impression is formed in the first 7 to 17 seconds itself. This first impression is based 55 percent on appearance, 7 percent on the words we use during course of our conversation and 38 percent on the tone of the voice" Scientifically it has been proved that everyone is judgmental.I am not hard on my own gender but rather on whole of humanity. So, next time you ask women to stop being such "gossip girls", you might want to take a good hard look at yourself and see how you have in the past judged women severely and frankly quite stupidly. (http://articles.timesofindia.indiatimes.com/2012-07-29/all-that-matters/32923106_1_indian-men-new-woman-life-partners)

The faking needs to end. A common female trait is the relatively quick adaptation to feed male egos.

Oh lord. Where do I begin? Feed male egos? Hardly Mr Bhagat. I suppose no man has ever pretended to have an interest in some random romantic comedy or tv show or a book in order to impress a woman. Men would NEVER stoop to such a level where they have to fake it to make it? I have to the best of my knowledge never pandered to a man just so he would like me but I see no problem in telling a white lie either in order to make someone feel better. Oh both my mother and my father have in occassion lied to one another in order to make the other feel better about a particular situation in life. It's not called pandering Mr Bhagat, it's called being a partner. It's called love. Like I said, I have never pandered to another man in my entire life but I look forward to the day, when I have to hold someone's hand and tell them everything is going to be all right even when I know it's not. Why? Because I want to know what it's like to be in love and really mean it. As long as I don't lose my identity, I should be fine. Thank you for your concern but you can keep it.

Too many Indian women are emotional fools 
Seriously dude,  I am trying to be polite here and you go and call me an emotional fool. I am not even going to justify that behaviour other than to merely point out that there is nothing wrong in at times being emotional or a fool or both. NOTHING.


Women need to become more ambitious and dream bigger.
What does this mean exactly? That even though I am a reporter in a reputed daily, armed with a  Masters degree from a reputed institute and happen to be as a good as anyone at my job, I somehow lack ambition? Please define ambition Mr Bhagat. Is it to get ahead at work? Is it to earn money? To be happy in life? To have a successful family? To be able to brag about having written Harry Potter fiction? Ambition and dreams are subjective and different for everyone. My dream may be to have my football team (Arsenal...Gunners forever!) win the league or to some day run an NGO all by myself. Who are you to judge what my scale for success is?

Don’t be too trapped in the drama of relationships
Oddly enough, this is what truly pissed me off in the article. You are telling me to be selfish here. What makes you think I am not already selfish? Why have you already pigeonholed me into Mother Teresa? Do you know women at all Mr Bhagat? I am confused, happy, angry, emotional, opinionated, passive, funny, redundant, competitive, selfish, self centered and even selfless. Sometimes, all at the same time.  But it's not because I am a woman....it's because I am me. An individual. Prone to my own flaws and addicted to my own mistakes. They make me who I am. By giving me attributes without having ever met me is an insult to me and women everywhere. So stop it. Stop telling men to "choose" working women because housewives are "phulkas". Stop telling women to "change" themselves. And please invest some time, energy and money in taking some creative writing courses. You don't have to be Shakespeare but at least you should be capable of stringing two sentences together without falling into cliched traps. Thanks.

Love,
Aishhwariya Subramanian

It's not right but it's okay

Marina Keegan is a young graduate from Yale. She is 22 years old. She studied English in one of the greatest and oldest universities in the world and she is planning to start working for the New Yorker. I never met Marina. In fact, I never knew who this person existed until I read her essay - The opposite of Loneliness. She wrote it as her final column for Yale Daily News. Her words are an exuberant celebration of life, the confusion of youth and a dogged determination to live life to the fullest. I cried reading the essay as it was so beautifully written. It spoke about things I knew and understood. The only thing I did not understand? Marina died days after turning in this column due to a car accident. She wanted to live. She did not want to be lonely. She was confused and excited about being young. She just wasn't alive to see her promising life through.

"We don’t have a word for the opposite of loneliness, but if we did, I could say that’s what I want in life." These are the words with which she begins and ends her poignant essay. Keegan wrote that now is as good as any time to to embark on a new adventure and that it is ridiculous to lament the hopelessness of life, because life is not hopeless. Marina's words are what I believe in during the good days and what I want to believe in during bad days. I know many people my age and even younger than me who complain about dead-end lives and dead-end jobs, not realising that most of the problems they face can be easily fixed if only they could fix their attitudes...their outlooks. Marina understood that. She understood about being young and what a confusing time it is to make decisions. We are all bogged by the realisation that most of the decisions we take right now will present us with consequences that will last a lifetime. What we don't realise is that, it is never too late to start over.

In yet another searing insight, Keegan notes - "We have these impossibly high standards and we’ll probably never live up to our perfect fantasies of our future selves. But I feel like that’s okay." That's okay. What wonderful and yet easy words to use. Nothing fancy about those words and yet are so healing. Sure, we may screw up our lives beyond recognition at some point or the other (some more often than others), but it is important to know that it's okay. It's okay. The situation may be less than ideal but it's okay. Marina understood that. We may fail at work, with family, with friends or with love. But it's okay. We are young (always). And we can always begin all over again.

I know complaining is the easiest thing to do. But Marina can't complain about how unfair fate is because she is dead. If you are alive enough to complain, you should be grateful enough to live. Her words inspired me. They made me cry. I shed tears for a girl I had never met and never knew until she died. But I have always believed that reading what someone has written, is one of the most personal ways of getting to know them. So, I know Marina. I hold onto to her words. I hold onto to her hope. And I hope someone else gets to read her words and is inspired as well. It's easy to complain but it is so much better to say that everything's okay and try and fix the bad situation. Being lost and confused (especially at our age) is normal and it's okay. But let's not bog ourselves down with the negativity of what it represents but rather celebrate the fact that we can always get right back up and keep going. To start afresh. To make lives our own. Our decisions our own. The consequences of our lives are also our own. There is no such thing as a hopeless situation but there is such as thing as a new beginning. Marina you may be gone now but your voice has been heard. The world is not done with you yet. 

Marina's Final Essay