Polyester Prince - Dhiru and Guru - a la Mani Ratnam

The fact that it is a film made by Mani Ratnam automatically raised my expectations from it. And rumours that it has been inspired by the story of Dhirubhai Ambani only whetted my curiosity further. The grapevine had it that the movie has made a tremendous beginning at the box office and Amitabh Bachhan quite shamelessly, I think, endorsed son Abhishek's acting skills in the movie in an interview aired on NDTV. All in all, I was really looking forward to watching Guru and luckily, I got to see it this Sunday at the PVR multiplex in Forum Mall.

And I am a tad disappointed. The rumours are of course spot on – only that the movie is not merely inspired by, it is almost a biopic of Dhirubhai. And you can easily figure out the other characters in the movie are inspired by other historical figures – Arzan Contractor is definitely based on Nusli Wadia, Manik Dasgupta on Ramnath Goenka, Shyam Saxena is S. Gurumurthy, Champaklal Damani's character has been shown as a childhood friend and brother of Kokilaben. Kokilaben Ambani has hardly ever been in the limelight and I know precious little of her life's story – so I can only assume that Aishwarya Rai's character is based on her. Turkey replaces Yemen in the movie and curiously, Gurubhai in the movie is only shown to have two daughters – Mukesh and Anil bhai have been conveniently forgotten. Warring kinmen apparently have no place in family sagas.

But of course, Mani Ratnam has made biopics earlier and his Iruvar was widely appreciated. This movie, however, seems to lack a punch and finishes without taking a very clear stand between the two rival threads that run through the film. Abhishek Bachhan's defence during the RBI grilling is unconvincing and his attempt to relate his travails and fights with Gandhiji's fight against the British is ludicrous. Abhishek Bachhan has however turned in a stupendous performance in a role, which, though it was author backed to the core, required him to enact a person much older in age and maturity. Mithun Chakraborty makes a welcome return to mainstream Bollywood and excels in the role of the media patriarch. However, I did feel that the shift in equations between Guru and Manik Dasgupta from friendship to enmity was very sudden and out of sorts. Would a person suddenly dedicate himself wholly to finish off somebody, who, till the other day, was like a son to him? The chemistry between Abhishek and Ash is for all to see, otherwise, Ash really did not have much to do. Her introduction in the movie was however, quite spectacular and Rajeev Menon has handled the photography department with aplomb, as ever. Madhavan and Vidya Balan have however been wasted and the development of a parallel romantic angle between them is totally unrelated to the movie. I simply cannot comprehend the necessity of introducing an item number in a movie like this – perhaps the need to have Mallika Sherawat gyrate in a typical Turkish belly dance is what led to the shift of the background to Turkey from the historical Yemen.

Biopics, if they are simply visual rendition of a true story, without any kind of message being pushed forward or any other kind of embellishment, engender a sense of incompleteness to a movie and I think, that is the problem with Guru.

Hail the Prince

Sourav Ganguly has indeed, scripted a most remarkable comeback, a story as good as any other to be a parable for inspiration.

The last time, I had written about him, Ganguly had just been unceremoniously dumped from the throne of Indian cricket and pundits, all around were busy, writing his epitaph. In the long months of his exile, whenever he would talk of still nursing dreams of playing the World Cup in the Caribbean, people would dismiss it as mere wishful thinking; some would even proffer a few words of pity for someone who had risen so high, but had fallen so mightily. Even the most loyal of his fans had begun doubting a comeback, but it is entirely to his credit that Sourav Ganguly just refused to throw in the towel. Of course, the exile served him well – he has improved his fitness considerably, he has lost that air of “nothing can happen to me and my place in the team, come what may”, he has been playing Ranji trophy matches even in places like Dhanbad, unlike times when he would pull out of even international matches without batting an eyelid. But it is his confidence and the burning desire to prove his critics wrong that has propelled him towards another new innings in Indian colours.

May the Gods script a successful saga for this innings of his.

Who are we blaming??

Hardly anybody in India knew who Jade Goody is, a couple of weeks ago. Now of course, she is perhaps topping the list of the most hated person by an Indian. And all because of a reality TV show – Big Brother – whose Indian spin-off – Big Boss – is one of the stupidest (and to attain that tag, you have to be really special) TV shows I have ever watched on sitcom.

As the racial row erupted and threatened to engulf all kinds of players [at last count, apart from the TV channel, the contestants and the gullible all-knowing audience; the Governments of both UK and India; leaders of the European Union, Bollywood actors, starlets, wannabe models; had-been TV stars turned TV hosts; cricket celebs; newspaper columnists across the racial divide – all had pitched in with their thoughts on this], I daresay, I watched with keen amusement the indignation that Indians and South Asians, in general, exhibited at the treatment meted out to Shilpa Shetty. At the very outset, let me state that I haven’t seen any episode of the concerned TV show and my knowledge of the events that unfolded at the show is purely from media reports and video clips of the concerned episode when it all started.

First things first – I was initially surprised that Shilpa Shetty, who is still going reasonably strong at the Bollywood sweepstakes, would want to participate in a much-rehashed reality show with co-participants, who can only be described, in polite terms as either have-beens, also-rans or wannabe gone wrong (Ms. Lloyd would fit the last category perfectly). But then, from what is all turned out to be, I think it was a smart move by Shilpa’s agent – for it has definitely made her a household name now in the U.K. and if not the Oscars, perhaps she can aim for a few BAFTAs.

While I am in no way, condoning some of the remarks that were passed around in the show, I am amused at the sudden bout of propriety being exhibited by all and sundry, when it must be borne in mind that a majority of these participants do not have the privilege of elitist up-scale education and class that Shilpa seems to have and infinitely more importantly, when it is widely understood that nobody would like to see a program where there are no tamashas, no fights and bitching, no envy or jealousy. Clean, nice, polite people, who are always adjusting, make compromises in the bigger interest, who are welcoming towards one and all, who never fight amongst themselves or take nasty, bitter broadsides against each other behind each others’ backs, do not make for good TRPs. That is just what it is all about – Channel 4 could not have just scripted a nice wonderful happily ever after kind of a show and still hope to catch eyeballs. I am not being sarcastic – sure, it has backfired to a big extent and there are plans of scrapping the program altogether, but all this muck still made national headlines and everybody who previously did not know of or did not see Big Brother, is now wiser about it. And who knows, perhaps the news that it will be scrapped altogether, might just make people nostalgic about this 7 year old program and it might just burn out like a supernova at the end and ah!, what a grand finale that would be.

But all this brouhaha brings me to the larger issue of racism. We, i.e. all who have melanin in different dosages and in higher content than whites in our system – are too quick to react to any kind of behaviour that mildly suggests a racial undertone to it. And yeah, it has got to do with our history, of the past unjustness exhibited by our fairer brethren etc. But the fact is that all of us are racist deep inside and it just manifests itself differently in different people.

Gujaratis in Mumbai are unwilling to allow non-vegetarian tenants or residents in their housing complexes, the same goes for South Indian Brahmins in different parts of cosmopolitan India – Bangalore may be the new buzzword in the global arena, but if you go to Malleshwaram and say, that you are a fish-eating Bong and would want to rent a house, the landlord is most likely to smirk. God save you, if you are a non-vegetarian in Borivali and you need to buy eggs urgently – all the best, trudge miles for a shop that stocks it. Try going to some of the most happening places in the sunshine beaches of Goa – some of the Hindu converted “Portuguesophile” Goans would treat you like dirt and through subtle means, would try telling you that those places are reserved for the gora chamdis. Imagine, being marginalized in your own country by your own people. And we display these traits copiously – go down to the Gateway of India in Mumbai anytime and you would see scores of us, always eager to help the white tourist, whenever he needs something or being over-enthusiastic in answering their questions or allaying their fears [there is the other kind too – the one that fleeces them like hell, but they too act in the most subservient manner to the whites]. Ask the same people to help out a Nigerian or Kenyan tourist and they suddenly remember lots of work or display plain disdain for people, who are more coloured than they themselves are. Sure, for the economically weaker section of this subservient domain, it is simply the power of the relative currencies that dictates their action, but notice the difference when some of the airlines crews interact with white and black foreigners and you will know what I am speaking of. We label backward places as “just like Bihar”; we tend to think that all Tamilians must say “Aiyyo” at every thing in the most stupid manner and we portray accordingly in movies and serials; we tend to believe that every Muslim in the neighbourhood secretly supports Pakistan in an Indo-Pak cricket match; we think that all Mongoloid looking young females in the cities must be sluts and the males, drug-addicts; we think all Bongs are too arrogant and feign intellectual prowess of the most irritating kinds; we believe that all Marwaris are nothing but money-minded ogres who would do anything to make profits; we believe all Parsis are zany idiots etc etc.

Who are we blaming then??