Because there hasn't been a post in a while

Every sitcom has a phase where its renewal for another season is greeted with joy from fans. Then it slides into that phase where they tell you it's renewed, and you want to stab someone.

Girls, please get married all you want but do please retain your surnames on Facebook. My mind is a complete blank nowadays when generic first names come up with generic surnames and I start thinking maybe there's a bug somewhere. 

I am underwhelmed by the Bombay Talkies trailer. *Gasp* Yes, I did just say that.

That ad about Bande Achhe Hain gets on my nerves. First off, for a very long time, it was unheard of to call guys "Bande". This is not Delhi. Furthermore, no one is disputing that your husband/boyfriend/dad is awesome but you, too, have the power to buy insurance. Just saying. FYIA and all that.

A movie on a weekday evening costs Rs. 180. Same show, on a weekday that is a public holiday, costs Rs. 350. I don't know whether I should laud this undoubtedly capitalistic move, or cry myself to sleep about having a job. 

IPL is coming again. You know what this means, right? A match every day, people wearing those IPL jerseys, traffic jams outside Wankhede, no movies releasing, nothing on TV, and more of Shah Rukh Khan. I must end this post here and go slap someone.

It's 2013

You know what it is, right? It's January. Which means only one thing in India.

It's Bollywood awards season. Jan to March. Also known as Shah Rukh Khan's awards quarter (it's followed by the IPL quarter, which is followed by either a TV show or movie quarter, and he rounds off the year with the dancing-at-weddings-and-events-in-Dubai quarter). It's ironic that the only thing that could lose money in the whole year is the one solitary movie, which is also probably hedged so well that only the distributors are left poorer. If at all.

Anyway, the point, the point. Bollywood awards season means several things. One, a lot of gaudy stages get put up in really dusty parts of Bombay. Two, actors get paid more money to dance. Three, we get to see about 50 shots of Rekha and Amitabh Bachchan in close succession in the brief span of 4 hours. Four, we hear at least 5 speeches on each of the following:
1. How Bollywood Is Becoming More Like Hollywood
2. Please Don't Call It Bollywood
3. Meaningful Cinema is...
4. Amitji is so great

Why do I watch them? Well. If I asked you if you wanted to watch a really bad but funny Broadway musical for free, would you say no? Would you? Also, let's not pretend you don't. Tweeting about the Screen Awards and poking fun at them doesn't take away from the fact that you're watching them, aren't you? Suckers. Hah.

In the general spirit of all awards, I would also like to *humbly* present my own awards. (There are no nominations, because I'm not that vela. Just enough to write this post.) You can call these The *Rat Poison Sponsor* *Glitzy Word* Awards. The RPSGW Awards. No? Okay, call them the Golden Shoelace Awards. (Imagine Irfan Khan getting on stage and saying, "I am so glad I finally have a Golden Shoelace ok thank you everyone." See? Totally works.)

The Mainstream Item Number with Lowest Buzz Ever
Fevicol Se (pronounced Faayveekoal Se, Aha, Faayveekoal Se.)
It was really surprising how no one cared. Is it because she's married? Is it because it's a Salman Khan movie? Is it because of the insane product placement? Who knows. I hear it has the record for spawning the lowest number of suspicious sounding Google searches.

Surprise of the Year
Mithun Chakraborty being funny.
A lot of people say this should be about Nargis Fakhri marrying Uday Chopra. But is it surprising? Really? Struggling actress marries millionaire heir? Sure, Uday Chopra looks like a comedian out of a Marathi movie from the 80s, but does that mean he doesn't deserve lurrve? From a duck-faced hot girl? Come on. Your Facebook timeline is filled with this kind of thing, why does it surprise you when it happens in Bollywood?

Song of the Year
Chalao na naino se baan re / Dil garden garden / I can think of at least 3 others
They've cracked the formula, they have. Indian beat, nasal singer, stupid lyrics, garish video. Special mention to Himesh Reshammiya whose sudden return to form has shocked the likes of Mika Singh. Whatay song this.

Complete Waste of Talent
Hrithik Roshan
By simply sitting around, wasting 2 years on each of Papa's movies (currently Krish 2 or 3, I forget which) Hrithik Roshan wins this, yet again, for letting a precious year of an actor's already-short lifespan pass by... without doing anything of note at all. In 2013 we will probably see Krish 2 (or 3) and it will be grander, have more stunts, more cliched villains and probably a Batmobile. It will also make the obligatory 100 crores. It'll just be a really, really bad film.

Best Sci Fi Movie 
Student of the Year
3 aliens from a less-developed planet descend into an inter-galactic school to learn the ways of the universe, then are caught up in a dance competition. Okay wait, that actually sounds good.

Weirdass Getup of the Year
Paresh Rawal, Table No. 21.
Seriously man. What is that?

Best Actress
Katrina Kaif
Because she- hahahahahahah. Kidding. This is actually for Least Lines in All Media Put Together. Seriously. With an average of 8 sentences per movie and 2 words per Hindi TV advertisement, this lady is doing so well that it's almost like we're a society that loves dolls. Oh wait, that reminds me. "Believe in your dreams, and make them happen. Next time they make a Barbie Doll, will it be you?" Bwahahahha.


Also, as part of the Standard Obligatory Award Statements, I now state the following. Please assume I'm gushing:
1. Rekha is so beautiful, so ageless. No, it's not a bit too much. No, we're not overpowered by the sight of her.
2. All the people who died last year were really important to us.
3. We believe in recognising even small cinema. In the "Sound mixing", "Adaptation", and "Dialogues" category. Of these, we cannot promise Dialogues.
4. We do not find it even slightly disturbing that star kids are dancing on our stage with their parents.
5. We do actually encourage presenters to give long speeches about his "I love you Malaysia! Wooooooooo! Okay, now this award goes to... Any guesses? Any guesses? Well, it's my favourite!! Yeah! It's..." (We do care who their favourites are. Really.)

Getting the best out of your Facebook (No. You don't need to *like* this.)

People are always telling you that you don't know what you have, until you lose it. This is usually utter bullshit used to cheer people up with irrelevant things, but there's 1 place where it's completely true: on Facebook. Quit complaining about people on your timeline. Really. What's to complain about? Please find below, 10 easy steps to make your Facebook viewing experience a more enriching, more entertaining experience. Not more alliterative though.

1. People playing Farmville 2? Block the app. Daily Capricorn horoscopes coming your way? Block the app. Most messy apps are blockable. All annoying people are blockable. Get rid of all those people who fail to contribute to your timeline with gossip, pictures, interesting posts of any kind, or being any of the 7 Facebook Types of People which we will go into shortly.

2. You very likely have people you have identified as stalk-worthy. This is good. But very often, you've identified them as stalk-worthy simply because you dislike them. Dislike, no matter how great, will eventually be crushed at the hands of boredom. Especially if these turn out to be people who play "What football player are you?" every single day.

3. Find new people to stalk. Not on the basis of any connection, but simply because they happen to be on your friend list and have decided, for some reason, that nothing should happen in their lives without it being on Facebook. Which means pictures from every dinner, updates about their aunt coming over, and descriptions of how much fun yesterday was. Sounds boring? There's usually a strong correlation between this kind of conversation and hotness of the girl. Yes. It's always a girl.

4. Locate the pseudos. These are the people for whom life is one large journey of discovery. Every day is a struggle to overcome inner demons, every person they meet touches their heart, every sight they see screams out to them "Look! This world is so bloody beautiful that you can now write a hundred words about it on Facebook!" Blessed are those who fall into this category. For you and me (assuming you aren't one of the blessed ones), tea is just tea, weather is good or bad, studying is just a pain, and the last time our hearts were touched was while watching a cheesy Bollywood movie that we later made fun of. So soak up all the positive energy (usually by a completely new name) that these guys are giving out to the world. Because that positive energy is fricking hilarious.

5. A category often overlapping with the Pseudos is the Pretentious Ones. These are the people who will register their attendance at every wine tasting in the city, go to every jazz concert because "there's just something about jazz, you know?", call Colaba Causeway "exquisitely folksy", and "fall in love with" as many unheard-of bands as possible because they want to be the ones who *discovered* that band. The Pretentious Ones are useful because they're usually a sort of cultural guide to your own city. They'll always say what event they're attending, so you know beforehand where not to go. And they take a bunch of half-decent pictures using SLR cameras that you can use as wallpapers.

6. Hunt down the sentis. These are the people whose posts consist of a) graphics with misspelled lines on how no one should love anybody, b) "She laft me alone", and c) supposedly obtuse references to real people which everyone can guess. Don't do anything here, because that gets perceived as insensitive, or so I am told. Just watch. It eventually becomes either a bubbling pot of group hugs, awwws and some combination of alcohol/shoes/football; or an out-and-out fight if the sentiyapa is happening without first deleting the object of affections. And while I'm not saying you should enjoy this... they did decide to do this on Facebook. So enjoy this.

7. Find the sports maniacs. These are the ones usually debating the relevance of an off-spin on mid-wicket in the second innings of a test series (which will eventually be a draw) (pardon my cricket) or saying "GGMU". Which, as I have learnt, is not the abbreviation of a Hindi gaali but a football slogan for Manchester United. (Lucky them.) Once you've found these people, you can choose to fight with them or block them. Do one of the two for sure though, otherwise they'll just be pointlessly taking up space that could've been used by duck-faced women in their late 20s.

8. Are you freaked out by the number of people getting married way too early (i.e. your age)? Turn the negative into a positive ray of bloody blinding sunshine, as the pseudos would say. Go through their profiles after the flood of wedding pictures has receded. You will most likely see: a) The couple tagging each other at the neighbourhood kirana store, b) Pictures with parents-in-law and extremely fake love being professed for them, c) Rapid weight gain, and d) The desperate search for married friends whom both the husband and the wife can stand, and vice versa.

(Those, by the way, are your Types. Personal Stalkees, Over-sharers, The Pseudos, The Sentis, The Pretentious Ones, Sports Maniacs and Married Too Early. Each is essential, believe me.)

9. Among other general tips, argue with strangers. No, really. Find a semi-contentious status message, locate any one of the usually ill-informed but passionate comments on it, and start to argue. Do it painstakingly, do it everyday, don't stop. Don't stop until others start commenting and telling you two to chill out. At which point, do a complete about-turn on your stance and walk away. As a personal request, I'm asking all of you to do more of this. It's immensely entertaining, kinda like Bigg Boss on Facebook with a little more brain thrown in.

10. Don't stop at liking a completely blonde update. Go the whole hog and share it with your timeline. The level of resulting confusion among the blondes is usually entertaining to watch, because often they have just the right mix of vanity, illogicality and self-doubt that renders them absolutely nonplussed by things like these.

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Coming up later: Types of Tweeple. Have a good weekend. :)

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Just in case anything in this post causes a billion dollar company to get litigious... it's all false. Totally. I'm not scared of large corporations. Much in the same way that Salman Khan remarks, "Main darta nahi hoon. Sirf ghabrata hoon. Thoda." (Andaz Apna Apna)

Student of the Year

Or Delhi Boys and A Bimbo

Student of the Year is full of surprises. I mean it. It's full of surprises because you won't laugh at the supposedly funny parts. Nothing is sad about the supposedly sad parts. Supposedly serious bits are funny. And matter-of-fact statements are the truly sad parts of the movie.

(Beware: Post contains spoilers. If you intend to watch SOTY for its storyline *snigger* please leave now.)

Coming to SOTY. It's a high school story. Which Karan Johar first did when he was 26, and is now repeating at 40 with far more retarded characters. (On some level one can empathise, because the older one gets, the more idiotic 17-year-olds begin to look.)

So there's a blonde girl with expensive bags (basically the movie Aisha compressed into 1 character), and 2 guys who first hate each other, then are friends, then hate each other again, then become friends again, then... *yawn*

The first half of the movie is spent in introducing everyone with their own personalised song. We're told that Siddharth Malhotra is a poor kid (not really borne out by all his designer clothing, but hey, Manish Malhotra is his uncle so how can he wear regular clothes?) whose family hates him, Varun Dhawan is a rich kid whose dad hates him. Alia Bhatt is also a rich kid with a mother who's too focused on the stepdad. These one-liner family stories are the reason why all three behave with such complete idiocy (or so the film tries to tell you).

All 3 children (2 of whom have large biceps and six pack abs, like every 17-year-old) go to a school for the super-rich, which looks like the set of Mohabbatein met the set of a bad Hollywood sci-fi movie and had a baby. The school is a premier institution with no teachers, no dress code and no fixed schedule. Rishi Kapoor is the Dean of this place (completely over the top), and why Karan Johar of all people would choose to be so offensive to gay people is something we'll never know.

In true Johar style, the movie has 1 wedding song, 1 nightclub song, 1 party song and a few love songs in the snow. In true Johar style, most of these are in Punjabi and sound more or less like the others. Good so far. Now you have a competition (basically a Triwizard Tournament ripoff) where kids have to prove themselves to be the best student in the school.

So, they first take an IQ test. This IQ test is preceded by students studying really hard (background song goes, Ratta maar). To study for an IQ test is... well, unfortunately it's a rather accurate reflection of the Indian education system. Go, KJo. Even if this was unintended.

Alia Bhatt, easily the dumbest person in history (not just this school) is in the top 16 of that IQ test.

In real life this would happen only if all the other people taking that test were chimps who had been hit hard on the head 3 times each.

The next round is a dance competition.

Because that, apparently, is how a lunatic house like the premier school judges people. No boring things like social work, debates, extracurrics or responsibilities. Nope. It's gotta be a dance competition. So that Alia gets to dance and both guys can wear tuxes that have been taped to their abs.

Finally, you have a triathlon. Where you pit men, women, short people, tall people, heavyweights and lightweights all together in swimming, cycling and running.

Decision makers at the premier institution clearly haven't seen any sporting events either. Or, for that matter, used their brains.

There are obligatory sardar jokes, fat jokes and gay jokes. In a blow to intelligence everywhere, this competition plays out. In a blow to common sense, Rishi Kapoor practically goes into depression because two 17-year-old boys stop talking to each other.

In a blow to women at large, all women in the movie are bimbos, their participation in the competition is token, and the one girl who does manage to do something with it is, at the end of the movie, appropriately pretty-fied and a "happy housewife". Joy to the world.

But those aren't the most shocking bits. The most shocking bit of the movie is the football coach (Ronit Roy), being Gujarati. Come on. When has any Gujju you know, shown a single sign of being able to play even TT well? :P

...

There are many reasons one could love The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, the foremost being reading it. I haven't yet met a person who hasn't absolutely loved it, which is saying quite something because there are people who dislike Wodehouse. :-/ Clearly humour is a subjective thing... but as I said, everyone agrees on HGG.

The books are mostly logic-defying humour with a bit of sci-fi (people from all across the galaxy are travelling all over the place to do something that no one is sure of. Basically.) They cover a bunch of philosophical questions, life crises and whatnot, but one of my favourites is pasted below.

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A large dairy animal approached Zaphod Beeblebrox’s table, a large fat meaty quadruped of the bovine type with large watery eyes, small horns and what might almost have been an ingratiating smile on its lips.

‘Good evening’, it lowed and sat back heavily on its haunches, ‘I am the main Dish of the Day. May I interest you in the parts of my body?’

It harrumphed and gurgled a bit, wriggled its hind quarters in to a more comfortable position and gazed peacefully at them. Its gaze was met by looks of startled bewilderment from Arthur and Trillian, a resigned shrug from Ford Prefect and naked hunger from Zaphod Beeblebrox.

‘Something off the shoulder perhaps?’ suggested the animal, ‘Braised in a white wine sauce?’

‘Er, your shoulder?’ said Arthur in a horrified whisper.
‘But naturally my shoulder, sir,’ mooed the animal contentedly, ‘nobody else’s is mine to offer.’
Zaphod leapt to his feet and started prodding and feeling the animal’s shoulder appreciatively.
‘Or the rump is very good,’ murmured the animal. ‘I’ve been exercising it and eating plenty of grain, so there’s a lot of good meat there.’
It gave a mellow grunt, gurgled again and started to chew the cud. It swallowed the cud again.

‘Or a casserole of me perhaps?’ it added.
‘You mean this animal actually wants us to eat it?’ whispered Trillian to Ford.
‘Me?’ said Ford, with a glazed look in his eyes, ‘I don’t mean anything.’
‘That’s absolutely horrible,’ exclaimed Arthur, ‘the most revolting thing I’ve ever heard.’
‘What’s the problem Earthman?’ said Zaphod, now transferring his attention to the animal’s enormous rump.
‘I just don’t want to eat an animal that’s standing there inviting me to,’ said Arthur, ‘It’s heartless.’
‘Better than eating an animal that doesn’t want to be eaten,’ said Zaphod.

‘That’s not the point,’ Arthur protested. Then he thought about it for a moment. ‘Alright,’ he said, ‘maybe it is the point. I don’t care, I’m not going to think about it now. I’ll just … er … I think I’ll just have a green salad,’ he muttered.
‘May I urge you to consider my liver?’ asked the animal, ‘it must be very rich and tender by now, I’ve been force-feeding myself for months.’
‘A green salad,’ said Arthur emphatically.
‘A green salad?’ said the animal, rolling his eyes disapprovingly at Arthur.
‘Are you going to tell me,’ said Arthur, ‘that I shouldn’t have green salad?’
‘Well,’ said the animal, ‘I know many vegetables that are very clear on that point. Which is why it was eventually decided to cut through the whole tangled problem and breed an animal that actually wanted to be eaten and was capable of saying so clearly and distinctly. And here I am.’

It managed a very slight bow.
‘Glass of water please,’ said Arthur.
‘Look,’ said Zaphod, ‘we want to eat, we don’t want to make a meal of the issues. Four rare stakes please, and hurry. We haven’t eaten in five hundred and seventy-six thousand million years.’
The animal staggered to its feet. It gave a mellow gurgle. ‘A very wise choice, sir, if I may say so. Very good,’ it said, ‘I’ll just nip off and shoot myself.’

He turned and gave a friendly wink to Arthur.
‘Don’t worry, sir,’ he said, ‘I’ll be very humane.’

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