Bajirao Mastani - An experience

So yesterday when I left my lab late in the evening, I followed my usual ritual of putting on my mp3 player and stuffing the earphones in my, well, ears. The song it played was Fitoori, a song which was taken from Bajirao Mastani's soundtrack, although not featured in the movie itself. About an hour later, when I walked into my home, the song playing was still Fitoori. At just under 4 minutes long, that is equal to approximately 15 replays. But that is the kind of hold this movie has on me ever since it came out. First the trailer, then that ethereal homage to Mughal-e-azam and Madhubala's pyaar kiya to darna kya magic set in the modern adaptation of the sheesh mahal (Deewani Mastani), followed by the rest of  the music, and finally the film itself. I have always been an ardent admirer of the Sanjay Leela Bhansali school of filmmaking, right from the critically acclaimed Khamoshi, to the much maligned Saawariya, the acclaimed-but-hardly-seen-by-a-single-soul Guzaarish, to his redemption ticket at the box-office Goliyon ki rasleela: Ram-Leela. So naturally I was bound to be excited when the maverick finally came out with his dream project, 12 years in the making. Though the excitement might have been of a more subtle, restrained variety, which comes with age. Especially though, as after the slight disappointment with the unabashed, melodramatic tone of Ram-Leela, this one seemed to signal a return to form for SLB, the director who gave us one of TIME magazine's 10 best films of the millenium, and the best film of that year (2002) worldwide (Devdas). And that is exactly what it turned out to be.

It would be very easy to dismiss this film as just a costume drama, replete with "over-the-top" action sequences, costumes, sets and emotions, as indeed a few reviewers tried to do. SLB is a director reviewers love to hate. Trashing his movies as over the top, melodramatic, all gloss no substance, pretentious etc. provides them the ultimate high, and makes them feel good about themselves. However, for a change, they have been unusually kind and receptive of Bajirao, lavishing it with well- deserved praise in all aspects - world-class production values, set pieces, costumes, cinematography, music, direction and of course, the acting. Even international reviewers, such as the reviewers of the Guardian, and Ms.Saltz of the  NYT, have been very generous with their praise for this magnum-opus, accepting it for what it is - a fine example of old-school Bollywood story-telling, combined with production values at par with any big-ticket Hollywood production. 

Personally, for me the highlight of the film was its most underrated aspect - the music. Universally praised and liked, it hasn't been discussed as much as it needs to be. SLB, who helmed the music for this one completely on his own like his last few ventures, deserves major props for bringing classical music back to mainstream Bollywood. Right from the opening kathak number, "Mohe rang do lal" – another homage to K. Asif and Madhubala's spell-binding "Mohe panghat pe", the classical tone is set for the entire movie. The way this number opens, with the sounds of chirping birds evoking early dawn, you realize you are in for a musical treat. The setting of fountains and the grand old fort serve as the background for Pandit Birju Maharaj's subtle choreography, brought to life by Deepika Padukone's graceful swaying, all of which makes  this number a visual treat as well, and a major reason for why I could see this movie twice within a week in theatres! This is followed by another highlight, the well-known Albela Sajan, sung by a bunch of talented singers in a choir-like manner, a significant feat for a classical song. The colourful song makes you joyously celebrate the triumphant return of the victorious hero from battle. The less said about Deewani Mastani, the better. This is a song which will go down in history, just for the sheer artistry with which it has been conceived – a monochromatic spectacle of brilliant choreography, cinematography, vocals, sets, costume and performances. Shreya Ghoshal returns to top form with this album for the man who unleashed her force in Bollywood with Bairi Piya. The only song I was apprehensive about pre-release was Malhaari. The boisterous number seemed far removed from the sedate world of Maratha Peshwas, and Ranveer Singh’s dancing with animalistic fervour set to Vishal Dadlani’s power-packed vocals did not seem to gel with the times it was set in. But all apprehensions were set aside, as it assimilated beautifully in the movie, a battle cry celebrating the all-conquering war prowess of the Marathas. You almost believe that a peshwa could have danced like that with his soldiers. Same goes with Pinga. Bhansali follows a sort of template in all his films, especially when it comes to music. For instance, there is a customary song about the moon (chand chupa badal mai, woh chand jaisi ladki, yoon shabnami…). So here too, we have a Pinga, built on the same template set by Dola re …. Two women, rivals in love, come together to celebrate their affection for the same man, with one ultimately handing over the reins to the other. A lot of hue and cry was made, open letters written by “activists” seeking their 15 minutes of fame criticizing the concept of making a peshwani bai dance with commoners, and the factual inaccuracy of a Kashibai struggling with arthritis dancing energetically. However it was all forgotten and the song was received favourably, compared incessantly to its predecessor, and the two ladies pitted against each other – with Priyanka Chopra coming up on top more often than not. The two gems on the album, Fitoori and Abb tohe jaane na dungi are inexplicably not included in the film. Listening to the thumris, one can’t help but be hopeful that the videos were shot and will see the light of the day somewhere down the line. The latter has my favorite lyrics from the album:

Ek hai mannat, ek hai dua …

Dono ne ishq ki rooh ko chhua,

Daayein se pad, ya baayein se pad….

Farsh se arsh tak, ishq hai likha

 Aayat, another masterpiece by the omnipresent and overused Arijit Singh, follows the template set by its far superior predecessor Lal Ishq from Ram Leela. Aaj Ibadat, which only plays as the end credits roll out, beautifully brings together Sanskrit hymns with Urdu poetry, and underlines the theme of religious harmony preached by the movie boldly with double lines. In short, though SLB is unlikely to win any awards for music direction, or any of the singers rewarded for bringing his vision to life, they all undoubtedly deserve a thunderous applause for these soulful, classical-based tunes, in my opinion, especially in a year dotted with below average soundtracks. Read this completely to-the-point review of the album in the Hindu.

Both Ranveer Singh and Priyanka Chopra come up with career-defining performances. Unfortunately, it is SLB’s muse, Mastani, who seems to have drawn the short string in the bargain, coming across woefully underwritten and unidimensional as compared to the other two protagonists. Deepika Padukone already had a landmark performance last year with Piku, and here again she gives an earnest performance. It’s the writing which lets her down. Although it is easy to root for Priyanka’s dignified Kashibai, by virtue of her being the simpleton, honest, jilted first wife, it is her incredible performance that steals the show. She proves that you don’t need to fill every frame of the movie to make an impact. Of her limited screen time, it takes her just two scenes to stamp her presence across the movie – the one in which she confronts Mastani and after giving her a piece of her mind, finally accepts her on her own terms, and the much talked about guroor scene, where she shreds into her husband’s infidelity by confronting him with all the dignity and self-respect she can muster. You feel for her when a sick Bajirao mistakes her for Mastani, and not for the lovelorn man on his death bed. You feel Kashibai's anguish through her, so well has she imbibed the character. This is a hundred steps beyond Fashion, Barfi or any other performance of her illustrious career. The entire supporting cast, predominantly Tanvi Azmi, lives up to the expectations one has come to have from a SLB film.
This is only the second film ever that I paid twice to watch in a theatre, the first being Zindagi Milegi Na Dobara. While that one was more or less circumstantial, this time, it was completely voluntarily. And during the second watch, which was barely 2-3 days after the first one, not even once did I feel I that I have just seen it. It retained it's freshness for the most part, except the long-drawn out climax, which frankly, grew a little tiresome in the first watch itself. Even though it is not a flawless film, Bajirao is definitely the finest representative of everything that is good about the Bollywood cliche, has repeat value, and I suspect, and hope, that in absence of any quality opposition in the forseeable future, will have a long run at the theatres, finally reaffiriming SLB's box office credentials after Ram Leela.

The Roopkund Diaries - Chapter 1

Aagaz

It has been exactly a year since I finished (well ..... nearly finished) the most gruelling (mentally and physically) endeavour I ever embarked upon in this short existence and it is a shame that I waited this long to document it. True, I have been busier, but chronic procrastination probably had a bigger role. Such a long time has now elapsed since that trip that I wanted to pen it down before I lose any more of the small, little precious moments from my memory that made this trip a life-altering experience for me.  

So last year, in an effort to make my life a bit more exciting, and a little less moronic and monotonous, I took quite a few baby steps. A giant leap towards that goal however, came exactly a year ago, when I jumped on the opportunity to join two of my school friends for a trekking expedition in the Himalayas. Actually, it was more of a self-invitation. It was a rare, impulsive, carpe diem moment for me. I very well knew another opportunity to go on a trek like this might never come, and I sure as hell wasn't going to create one on my own, so might as well latch on to this one presented on a silver platter. Thus, without knowing anything about the trek or even the place where we were going, I agreed to go with them.

Briefly, the trek in question lies in the Himalayan range in the Indian state of Uttarakhand. The end point of the trek is the Roopkund or the mystery lake, a shallow pond surrounded by glaciers and snow covered Himalayan peaks like the Trishul (7120 m) at a height of approximately 5000 meters (16,499 feet) above sea level. The reason this place has attracted a lot of attention from travel enthusiasts in the last three-four years is the presence of human skeletons - preserved in all their glory - apparently since the 9^th century, along the edges of the lake. The lake remains frozen for much of the year, and the trek is open for a few weeks in the summer months of May-June and then in September, excluding the monsoon period. A number of companies and groups have started organizing trekking tours to Roopkund off late. With traveling suddenly capturing the imagination of Indian youth in the last few years, a number of them inexperienced in trekking have been making a beeline for Roopkund and other similar destinations nearby. 

Only one of us (let’s call him A) three friends had any prior trekking experience. As the main purpose of this trip was to be adventurous, to challenge ourselves and to find some solace, some peace and quiet and a break from the monotony of our lives, we decided to forgo a packaged tour and decided to do it all by ourselves. Actually, it was all pre-planned that way by A. I just latched on to the trip last minute. The decision to go might have been impulsive, but was followed by hours and hours of research - getting to the place, the myriad aspects of trekking and mountaineering in general and most importantly, the perils involved. Oh the perils! I could have written a mini thesis on Acute Mountain Sickness by the time we were ready for take-off. And suffice to say, the more I read, the more I got familiar with the dangers involved of embarking on a trek of this difficulty for a beginner, the more I began to doubt question the sanity of my impulsive decision.

On June 13th, 2014 we took off on an overnight bus from Delhi to Haldwani, reaching there in the wee hours of next morning, with an entire day of commuting ahead of us to reach our final destination – Wan village - our starting base camp for the trek. A lot of research was done and plans were made on the various possible options for traveling to Wan, but as they say, what has to happen will happen. We had a carefully planned itinerary based on mostly other travellers' blogs. But most of them remained on paper only. The journey from Haldwani to Wan was supposed to take us approximately 10 hours, and was to be completed in short phases with multiple stopovers through many small towns spread across the Uttrakhand countryside via shared jeeps and buses. The actual story however turned out to be much more twisted and infuriating.

The proposed itinerary

Confessions of a Compulsive Sharer

Just a few minutes back, for some reason I was in quite an agitated state. Working on an eight year old relic of a desktop was certainly not helping. Even the 'unresponsive plugin' dialog box was 'not responding'. And suddenly my playlist decided to play this particularly angst-ridden song, the actual lyrics of which had no particular resonance with my current state of mind, but the general feeling of bitterness, anger and angst was a pretty neat fit. So as one tends to do in such a scenario, I kept playing the song over and over again. Even now as I am writing and after a few drastically contrasting upbeat songs, I have gone back to it and playing it on loop, to sustain that angst, even if only in spirit. But I digress. So after hearing it a couple of times, my first impulse was to stop what I was working on, move on to the browser and share on Facebook that I was listening to this particular song. But I checked myself in time, as I realized, what good would that accomplish? It won't put across what I was actually feeling to anyone. Even if it did convey something, it would be something totally different. And it would definitely be of no use. So I stopped and moved on. But this was more of an exception than the norm. The fact that I had just shared a video of baby sloths squeaking from a science-themed page on my wall just a few minutes before this incident is testament enough - of the fact that I am a compulsive sharer. Or more specifically, a compulsive 'social-network' sharer. And I admit it with every ounce of shame possible. Not that its a new realization. I have always known it, and admitted to it. And the co-inhabitants of this cyber network of mine have been by and large very kind and tolerant of this rather irritating and annoying habit of mine. Apart from a comment here and there on how overactive or overzealous a 'Facebooker' (and now a 'Google Plus-er' - ??) I am, or that how whenever they open their FB, all they see is a series of contiguous posts shared by me and nothing else, I have never really heard too many complaints. Either people are really patient or tolerant, or they hardly use FB, or the most likely explanation - they have discovered that they can block or reduce the frequency of a person's posts on their wall by a simple settings change. Well that was the case, until a couple of weeks back, when one of my oldest friends told me, over Facebook chat - where all of our communication nowadays is limited to anyway, that she is removing me from her 'closest friends' list, because doing that sends you a notification for each and every activity of the concerned person, and the tsunami of notifications for my all too frequent unleashing of information on the world was simply too much for her to handle. 

Appreciating her honesty,

 I just told her, 

I am sorry but I can't help myself, 

for I am, but a compulsive sharer.

Mind you, I am not the stereotypical social networking junkie that abound in all those memes floating around the Web. I don't share pictures of my meals, or cute kitten and puppy videos (sloths are a one off exception!), or check-ins of every step I take, every move I make, and not even random musings spouting in my brain as status updates (that's reserved for this blog). I do however, HAVE TO share every beautiful piece of music I happen to listen to, or any pair of striking, fascinating, eye-opening, resonating lines put together and set to music, or an article highlighting a pertinent issue I feel strongly about, or maybe just a goofy write up that I couldn't help LOL-ing at, or the latest accomplishments of my favorite tennis player, or the latest, potentially ground breaking study in the field of biology. Basically, anything that I enjoy, get excited about, or anything that touches me, concerns me - I have to share. Its like my enjoyment or indulgence in that particular piece will not climax, as it were, if I did not unleash it upon all my friends and acquaintances. And this phenotype's expression is not confined to the realm of the virtual world. During my masters, a few of my classmates had nicknamed me the 'storyteller'. Because I couldn't help but narrate seemingly unending stories of incidents that happened to me or others, in excruciating detail, and would only stop until I was finished or it would get clear from the audience's facial expressions that they are longing for the second they can walk away from that 'conversation' (goes totally against my general reputation of being shy and reserved though). Its just that in the virtual world, you don't have access to that instant feedback a.k.a. the 'speak-one-more-word-and-I-will-blow-my-brains-out' look! So basically, in order to truly enjoy something, I just have to share it with other people. Of course, I am not naive enough to think that everything I enjoy would also tickle everyone else's imagination, but that is not a compulsive sharer's prime concern when he strikes gold. He just has to disperse it, as far and wide as possible, and it may or may not reach the appropriate destination. Its the recipients' choice to ignore it or receive it. In case I am assured of the likelihood of a particular entity being definitely enjoyed a specific person, I in fact even tend to personally share it with them and not the whole bunch on a social network. I am confused if this is a manifestation of an attention-seeking personality as people might tend to call it, but that is definitely not the intention. As I say, its a compulsion. I am sure that in the current society, where every out of the ordinary personality trait or quirk is quickly labeled as some sort of a disorder (for good reason though, more often than not), they have a specific term or word for this kind of insanity which doesn't allow me to fully enjoy something without sharing it, and that there would perhaps be hundreds of thousands others like me out there. But I would like to believe that it is not out of an attention-seeking habit, or self-esteem issues, or lack of a life (though the latter might be dangerously close to the truth). Once the deed is done, I don't constantly keep checking or hoping that someone would read it or listen to it, like it, comment on it. Nah! But if someone does tend to tell me that they really loved the song or artist I shared, and they look forward to more music - it does make my day. Dispensing incredible music gives me an inexplicable high. Now this has begun to start sounding like I am justifying myself for some reason, so I will abruptly stop. Huh! .. what do you know, isn't it ironic that for a compulsive sharer, I have so little material for my own blog!?

Productivity: A researcher's Everest

 Alternatively titled - Laments of a 'Sciency' part II

Are you one of those people who measure a day's success/worth at the end by how productive it was? Well then, welcome to the "My day sucks, everyday!" club. Being a researcher, I am no stranger to deadlines and pressures of short term targets, even if they come few and far in between. But when they do come, more often than not, after a long period of lethargy and complacence, they seem all the more like the proverbial gun to your head or sword at your neck. And its not just me. I have seen many of my lab mates, current and former, grappling with this. Often enough, for days on end, we end the day looking at the time, and bemoaning the lack of productivity that day. Regretting the hours spent in the canteen over cups of tea, the longer than usual lunch 'hour', and most of all, the hours whiled away surfing the Internet, and not looking for publications. Then all you can do after the realization strikes is to curse yourself, promise punitive action, and vow to come in early tomorrow, work your derriere off, and not leave the lab until you get some productive data. Only to do it all over again the next day. Rinse and repeat. And this is just one of the average days during the long periods of inaction, exploration, or as I like to call it, literature survey. And being a computational biologist, I am more prone to face such periods frequently than an experimental biologist. But what happens when those deadlines strike and immediate goals rear their ugly head? How does one used to taking time in figuring things out cope with the sudden and urgent requirement for action? While a few righteous ones rise to the challenge, shrug off the complacence and deal with the task at hand head on, others follow a more convoluted route. I have often seen people, friends rather (and myself included), initially trying to the best of their ability to go down the above mentioned idealistic route, and 'man up', but then unable to sustain this initial blast of fuel combustion and the resulting drive, determination and optimism, and ultimately failing to the see it through to the desired conclusion in the given time frame. Instead, once the initial explosion of drive has fizzled out, the exponential growth of productivity plateaus, and one gets into a mundane, dog-chasing-its-own-tail-in-circles routine. The results stop, and the exasperation grows, resulting in an eventual inversely proportional relationship with productivity. The more one gets stuck, the lesser time one spends working, and finds refuge in checking their e-mail or Facebook every five minutes. Then either you give up or leave it all up to fate, with a firm belief (or rather, a desperate optimism) that things will work out - eventually. It HAS to work out. The principle of 'something's gotta give' will kick in. You just hope its the God of negative or no results who gives in before you do. And if you think about it, more or less almost every time, don't things DO actually work out? The universe has a peculiar way of sorting itself out, or at least that's what I'd like to believe, cause usually when you find yourself stuck between a rock and a hard place, its imperative that a miraculous, third way out does appear out of the blue. Now that might be your own perseverance and/or desperation at work, but it helps to believe that a guardian angel was at work while you were busy 'liking' (and cursing) the weekend getaway pictures of your friends' in other professions on Facebook. Meanwhile, if you come up with better ways to deal with these low-on-productivity phases while you ponder over it over a cup of coffee in the canteen, do let me know.

Changing Definitions of Patriotism

Today is the 26^th of January. The day India celebrates its Republic Day – anniversary of its Constitution coming into effect. Years ago, I would have got up early in the morning to watch the Republic Day parade on television. India’s military might and cultural diversity are on full display along the iconic red-sand lined boulevards of the Rajpath. The very idea of this day, and the parade is supposed to make every Indian’s heart swell with pride and patriotism. For me, that effect has diminished over the years. While in school, these occasions are special and looked forward to with excitement. But now, the patriotic songs on the radio all day long, the handmade flags dangling precariously from window sills and rooftops, and the excitement for the colorful tableaux representing different states and Government departments are all relics of childhood. Today I got up at 12:30 pm, and the first thing I did was to switch on the TV, but only to see if Sania Mirza managed to win the Mixed doubles title at the Australian Open, and excited for the ensuing men’s final match between Nadal and Wawrinka. Meanwhile, the radio in the next room was blasting the latest Bollywood hits like any other day, instead of the handful of staple patriotic songs from movies of bygone era, which usually come on the airwaves just twice every year. As I switched channels, I landed on Rang De Basanti, a modern day classic and the perfect movie to invoke the missing patriotic spark on a day like this. I had not seen this movie in a long time, and as I watched it, I found myself appreciating it for the exemplary film making and its technical and aesthetic aspects. I realized that the indescribable feeling of being welled up with patriotic emotions was missing, unlike the first couple of times I had seen it, years ago. I began to wonder, do I not take pride in being an Indian anymore? Do National holidays like the Republic Day and the Independence Day mean nothing anymore to me, especially if they fall on a Sunday, thus robbing me of a guaranteed day off from work?

Patriotism in India is expressed occasionally, including sporting  events, the afore mentioned national holidays, times of war, or a significant achievement on the global stage – like the beauty pageant victories of yore, or the more recent successful launch of the Mars Rover by our space agency ISRO. Though I use the term sporting events at the risk of being too liberal - its only cricket that counts as sport in our collective conscience. But we are so used to winning in cricket by now, that it is no longer associated with the pride of being an Indian, unless it is the world cup, or a match against Pakistan.The jingoistic version of patriotism, often restricted for our dealings with the old time neighboring foe/friend, is expressed time and again, be it on the cricket pitch via bat and ball, or on the high terrains of the Himalayas via guns and mortar, or in our movies (thankfully, on the decline). But in these times of social networking, when everyone is an opinion maker and a self appointed expert on everything, where complete anonymity springs up keyboard warriors in every home, this jingoism has found an unprecedented outlet for expression. These defenders of our country’s pride are forever ready with their fingers drawn, ready to bully and abuse anyone who dares question our country, or even their own political heroes, into submission. On the flip side, when any piece related to India comes up on any social media platform, there are similar detractors who are ready to label India as the country of rapists and hell for women at the drop of a hat, no matter if the article they are commenting on was about the Mangalyaan. One interesting expression of patriotism nowadays is seen when an India – born national of any country is lauded for an achievement of significance. Whether that person is an astronaut, musician, scientist or politician, we are ready to claim him/her as one of our own, and delight and take pride in their success, even if their families left India eons ago, and its inconsequential whether they acknowledge their “Indianness” or not. It’s a pity that we are apparently a nation so starved of heroes that we are ready to embrace others as our own, even though our own athletes, freedom fighters, aging and forgotten artists and other heroes (or even present, when it comes to ‘irrelevant’ disciplines like Kabaddi, or for that matter, any women’s team) are struggling to make ends meet.

Though it can be argued that just like any other emotion, the expression of patriotism will vary for every individual. While for some, it may trigger from witnessing a thumping victory of the Indian cricket team over an arch rival (or maybe even on the tennis court, or hockey field), for others it may come from witnessing the launch of a space mission or nuclear capable missile on TV. I was just trying to contemplate the changing definitions of patriotism for me with age, but digressed. While celebrating and revisiting iconic events in our glorious past, with a show of present strength and a promising future excited me as a child, now it only means a few hours of lost sleep. Later in the day, while still changing channels, I landed on NDTV, airing a feature on the Kargil War, and the perspectives and changes in those war ravaged towns in the present day, with comparisons to the actual days of the war. Watching footage of the first televised war of our country, journalists standing along with the army in line of fire, I rediscovered that spark to some extent, if only for the realization that celebrating these days is crucially important, if it ensures that we remember and appreciate our heroic armed forces once or twice a year at least.

In these times of insecurity, increased lawlessness, and complete disregard for human life, one might be forgiven for feeling that the entire concept of patriotism is on its way out. After all, if our populace was proud of its nation, how could a country once a symbol of non violence and morality, be suddenly symbolic of barbarism, inhumane treatment of its own women and intolerance. It’s like we take two steps ahead, to only come back ten.  But I strongly believe, change will come with generations. And the current generation, fortunately, has demonstrated the idea of patriotism which requires change on a daily basis. Patriotism which embodies becoming a better person every day, standing up for what is right, not settling for mediocrity and by not being content with silence and demanding answers. On the surface it may look like everything is spiraling downwards, but change is also happening at the other end, slowly and subtly, but surely. There might be a lot of noise and commotion, but the voice of reason does manage to make its presence felt often enough, and hopefully will eventually prevail. As Indians, I hope we will learn to be proud of and retain all that is good, and at the same time not be in denial of everything that is wrong and resolve to rectify it.