The Only Sensational Moment Of Dhoom-3

Dhoom-3 is technically superb - but left me cold.  Soul-less - unlike its less-slick predecessors.

The 3 kids sitting in front too seemed to share my view - they were sitting slumped in their seats while watching the movie.  2 of them were teenagers, and the 3rd was a small brat - possibly the kid brother of one of the teens.

The only time the teens perked up was when Abishek Bachan asked Aamir Khan to remove his shirt and jacket to check if he had a bullet wound.

But their interest was short-lived ....

"No Cavity Check - I thought that was compulsory in the US" said one teen to the other in a disappointed voice, slumping back in his seat.

"What can you expect with these poorly paid Indian policemen brought all the way from India" replied the other teen, slumping back too in his seat.

"I have cavities too" said the small brat and showed off his mouthful of teeth.

Paisa vasool finally for me.....

To My Daughter On Her 18th Birthday

My dear Anupa,

You have turned 18 today – and I am still trying to reconcile with this fact.  One moment you were the small girl uncertain of her place in the world – and then next moment – poof, you have become this beautiful, self-confident young lady.  When did that happen?

To a dad, all children are special – but a Daughter is special in a very different way to her dad - ask any dad.  Bringing up a daughter is so different : Sons seem to grow slower – or at least they seem to grow in stages, and one is always aware that he is slowly maturing into a young adult.  But daughters? Boom - one day – the little girl is a young lady.

And then fathers of daughters are always conscious that they are in a race with time.  I cannot explain it here – but I know fathers of daughters will understand what I mean. 

Seeing you grow made me realize how quick and transient life is. No matter how much time I have spent with you, I still want  to clutch on to Time and say “hey there, can you please stop running – I want some more time with my little daughter … “   

Dads are always greedy when it comes to their daughters – just can’t help it.

Here’s wishing you a wonderful 18^th Birthday my lovely one – and a fantastic life ahead for you.

Your loving,

Aanu

Why The Wife Walks Behind Her Husband

I got the blinding revelation suddenly.  Cars in the fast lane are compelled to perpetually move at a fast pace because of the car behind them coming at a fast pace.  So the car in the front is pressurised to travel fast because of the "forward pressure" exerted by the car behind it.....

I thought I will use this "forward pressure" principle to good use for a 20 year problem that I have been facing ...

You see, when I and my wife go out walking, it typically starts out with us walking side by side like this ....

But then, within moments we are walking like this, with me in the front, and my wife following about 10 feet behind me:

The result is, our net cumulative speed is always slow .......

Today having keenly observed what happens in the fast lane, I thought I will use the "forward pressure" principle. Henceforth I am going to walk behind my wife so that I exert a forward pressure on my wife to walk faster.

You would have expected that this tactic of mine would now force my wife to walk faster..

But I was mistaken.....

"What are you doing?" she said, turning around and looking at me suspiciously.

"Nothing - am just walking behind you" I said, unwilling to give the game away.

"No, there is something wrong" she says, and walks even slower until I am forced to brake in order to avoid bumping into her.

"So, what is wrong, tell me?" she says now and keenly scans the surroundings.  And then I had the 2nd blinding revelation that day - wives walk behind their husbands to keep a close watch on them - after all there may be quite a few "untoward distractions" on the road for the husband.....

So we are back to square one now - and please notice the triumphant glee on someone's face :

And whoever compared a car to a woman is an absolute idiot.

The Day I took on All India Radio

The favourite past-time for me and my brothers when we were kids was to engage in a battle of “Who will disturb the other's song?" contest.  This typically entails 2 brothers simultaneously singing - but with each brother singing a different song.  Each brother will sing at the top of his voice to disturb the singing of the other – so you can imagine the cacophony.  

The climax is reached when one brother - not being able to focus on his own song (because of the cacaphony) is suddenly forced to switch to singing the other brother’s song – so now both brothers are singing the same song.  So one brother “wins” and the other brother (who was forced to change his track) “loses”. 

Being the bigger of the brothers (and hence with a bigger voice then) I took pride in my track-record of “winning” such encounters.

The HMV radio set took pride of place

Once when I was all of 5 years old I took on the might of All India Radio.  I always imagined that the song over the radio was delivered "live" by the singer (i.e. the singer sitting in the studio and singing live) - and the sound came via a hollow cable straight from the radio studio.  Hence the singer will be able to hear us through the radio if we shout loudly. 

So once while our large HMV (His Master’s Voice) radio set was playing a hit number by Kishore Kumar (India's number 1 singer those days), I stood close to the radio set and started singing another Kishore film song at the top of my voice.  My rationale was simple – if I sing at the top of my voice, Kishore Kumar sitting in the studio would get disturbed and confused, and would switch his track to sing along with me the song I selected.

My ego took a big beating that day – Kishore Kumar turned out to be a bigger competitor than I imagined.  He just kept coolly singing his own song, and it was I who kept getting disturbed and losing my track.  I finally gave up the battle.

It was only months later that I understood that the radio is a one-way communication device.

Nowadays whenever I am in a situation where I should only listen and not talk (which is frequent enough), I am reminded of the day I unsuccessfully challenged All India Radio. 

Weighty Matters

The girl promoting VLCC at the nearby supermarket seemed to know who to target with her sales pitch for a weight-loss program. She stands at the entrance and selectively approaches only certain people.

I overheard one of the ladies who was approached by the VLCC girl mournfully remarking to the daughter "Till last week that VLCC girl did not even look at me - but today she approached me.  I have therefore definitely put on weight."

I wonder whether the VLCC girl is aware of the dread she must be causing to anyone walking into the store : Will she, Won't she? 

I surreptitiously looked at my paunch. Better not risk it. I took a deep breath and flattened my tummy as much as I could, and then tip-toed quietly out of the store.  

My brush with Leadership

I live in a building which has a paranoia for security.  To exit the basement car-park, one has to pass through a tunnel (similar to the one which Mandrake the Magician had in his Xanadu).  And as in Xanadu, there are 2 automatic metal gates at either end of the tunnel. 

Entrance to tunnel with gate open

Today morning for some reason the gate at the far end of the tunnel got stuck and there were 5-6 cars queued up in the tunnel, wanting to get out.  Seeing that the tunnel was almost full, I stopped my car just before the first gate in the basement.

A Land-Cruiser came up behind me, and honked impatiently.  I did not want an argument early in the morning so I advanced my car past the first gate, and into the tunnel.  Now there was no place in the tunnel for another car to enter – so the Land Cruiser behind had to wait just before the 1st metal grill in the basement.

One more honk.  Of course I could not do anything now, so I stayed put.

In my rear view mirror, I could see the door of the Land Cruiser opening and a guy stepping out.  Since I don’t know his name, let me call him “Leadership Material” or “LM” for short.

He walked into the tunnel and surveyed the scene.  There were a group of drivers and some building technicians trying to force the rebellious gate at the far end of the tunnel to open – but the gate was refusing to co-operate with them.

LM came and tapped at my car window, and said : “Mai jaldi mein hoon.  Kuch tho karna chahiye”  - he said it in a tone that indicated his displeasure that there are lazy guys like me sitting around and doing nothing to solve the problem.

While I was thinking of a suitable response in my hesitant Hindi, he marched up to the gate at the far end, past the 5-6 cars parked in the tunnel.  He then barked some orders at the technicians, who chose to ignore him.

Meanwhile, the 1st gate behind me (at the beginning of the tunnel) started automatically closing behind me.  LM saw it closing, and started running back trying to reach his car before the metal grill closed, but in vain. 

So now we had this situation where LM was in the tunnel – with a metal grill firmly separating him from his car. 

LM came up and again tapped on my window “Lo – gate tho bandh ho gaya.  Abh mai kya karoon?” he asked me in an accusative tone.  I sympathised with him : there was no way he could reach his car now except by walking up the tunnel, walking past the 2nd metal gate (when it does open up), getting onto the road, walking around the building to the main entrance, and then taking the elevator down to the basement car park to reach his car.

Meanwhile the technicians had disabled the exit gate at the far end and lifted it up – so the cars now started to move out of the tunnel.  I too drove out.

My last vision of LM in the rear view mirror was of him panting his way up the tunnel. 

Did I Just Miss The Bus?

I walked briskly towards the bus stop.  There is a bus at 8.55, and the next one is 20 minutes later.  Missing the bus at 8.55 would mean a long 20 minute wait in the sweltering Dubai heat.

I was still a couple of minutes from reaching the bus stop when I saw with dismay the 8.55 departing from the bus stop. I had just missed it.  

The 20 minute wait at the deserted bus-stop was very agonizing.  I was very frustrated – and each minute of the 20 was painful, and spent kicking myself for having missed the bus.

What made the wait painful was the certainty that this is a 20 minute wait – and I was certain of that because I saw the bus departing – and I knew with certainty that the next one is not due until 20 minutes later.

But supposing I had not seen the bus depart from the bus stop? I would have then arrived at the bus station, and waited hopefully expecting the 8.55 to turn up in the next “few” minutes (probably it is a few minutes late today?).  The next few minutes would have turned into 20 minutes eventually – and I would have ended up taking the same bus anyway.  But I would have still waited with anticipation, and these 20 minutes would have passed more pleasantly.

As far as I am concerned I am happy with not knowing whether I just missed the bus - or when precisely the next bus would arrive. I have started to embrace unpredictability. It makes me hopeful of unexpected and exciting turn of events – and it makes any wait worthwhile.