David: A deliberate sewn linkage

Three people. Three Davids. Three lives. And one final linkage. Er.. Almost. A complex way of telling to shut your mouth and live on rather than making changes around. Unnecessarily complex.

The movie could've been done by him and himself only. Bejoy Nambiar, the man. After the smaller, psychedelic version seen in Shaitan, a hit-and-run case story and finally leading to mutual misunderstandings, comes a decent version of an usual routine. The same routine, which would've taken three different producers of the same era to picture it in their own different flavors. Nice way of cost-cutting, Mr. Director!

The story begins with the climax and ends with the climax again. Only difference is that what happens between these climaxes is somewhat dull. Alright let me put it straight, boring. What's so special about David the gangster, being the ultimate loyal servant to his master, ending up in a stage to kill his own king? Or that David, the guitarist who tries to avenge his anger against a politician? Or that David, the drunkard who wants his best friend's would-be as his own wife? It is for that simple reason that they never end up achieving their missions at all. That's David. Or rather, defining an attitude for that name.

Come 1975, London and Neil Nitin Mukesh as David the gangster fires and kills enemies of Abdul Ghani in a ruthless manner with his .5mm pistol. Hooks up with Noor, the maid's daughter who is a real-life rock-band singer. Monica Dogra, even though essaying the role neatly, still has to overcome her foreign lingo. It's just intimacy and sheer intimacy when you see Noor. And a background music for you to remind that until and after the movie has ceased. He eventually learns about his master being his father, an usual copy of older movies and hunches a plan to attack him after tying up with the Indian spys. Meanwhile, Ghani's son, that computer whizkid in Shaitan is a spoilt brat and progresses to damage his father's "image" for which Ghani decides to marry him with Noor, the pregnant lady with David's child. Noor rejects the marriage and stays in David's room for their love episode remembrance. And all this in 1975, is a tad unbelieving.

In between sneaks in David, the guitarist. Mumbai of 1999 doesn't look anything different than Mumbai of 2013. I wonder why that year was picked up for reasons I may not know. A serious guitarist who doubles up as a teacher for a few homes, friend for Lara Dutta and bass guitarist in a pub. Why serious? Because he's eating dinner when his band at the pub is busy thulping beer. Amid this, he has a family headed by Nasser who happens to be a small-time religious leader of his community, inspiring people to do God's work. His dreams and ambitions are that of any simple, middle-class boy which get shattered on one rainy day when Rohini Hattangady, the Hindu leader puts black paint on his father's face and he walks out in the open to seek out why.

Chiyan Vikram, the last of Davids, falls in love with Isha Sharvani, the Kalaripayattu queen who is a deaf-dumb combination but is extremely beautiful and is hooked with his friend. I wonder why the people of Goa really speak in that way of how is being depicted. In spite the scene is 2010, it is rather immaterial. He seeks out help of his dead father, of Tabu, of his mother and of Prahlad Kakkar for her hand but ultimately fails. Tabu as the massage parlour owner is class, making one wish like a friend of her nature. But I don't know why the dead father's character was needed for some comic attempts.

Now, for the character assassination er.. ratings. Neil Nitin Mukesh is surely an under-utilized actor who badly needs a good director. Vinay Virmani, an exact copy-paste look-alike of Ranvir Shorey is new and can go up provided he stops looking like the replica. Vikram is wasted, utterly wasted for the way he acts. Despite pouring his own money, Vikram is not up to mark. Isha Sharvani is truly beautiful. Rest look like Shaitan's crew which are required but, negligible.

Check for the climax. The second one. You'll find it a better movie to have skipped it before.

Shaitan was much better than this. Much, much better, Mr.Nambiar.

Oh, forgot. "Ghum Huye" is an awesome track to sign off. And stop that Jhoolelaal track remixing over and over. Tired of hearing Ali getting first rank every time.

Don't watch it again. You might just start liking it.

The Race that never started

Wondering myself why am I sitting on a Monday morning and putting up a blog post. Also wondering why didn't I tweet it in a single line rather than putting it up here. Wondering at the wondrous work of the wonderful team of Race 2. That's why..

Race 2 (Ah, a sequel of course) is an epic Hindi blockbuster movie that could very well er.. challenge the ongoing stupidities of the Dabangg series, Sajid Khan series, Sonakshi Sinha series and Rohit Shetty series. It simply surpasses them all! How? Simple. Cast a big unit, pay them in unrevealed amounts, put in the famous reverand couple-oops!-director-duo, Abbas Mustan and tada! Your movie is out. Er.. Did I mention about the script? Not necessary for it to take the limelight.

The team is brilliant, so brilliant that I sometimes feel why. A script that goes haywire, music that's unnecessarily intervening that you sometimes feel like shutting down the movie itself example, Allah Duhai Remix, stunts that tickle your funny bone and ridiculous acting by most of the junta. You also wonder why some people are being cast into guest appearances knowing the fact that they weren't needed for their stupid roles at all.

Take for example, Ameesha Patel and Aditya Pancholi. The former suits to the line perfectly as Deepika Padukone says, Fruit-and-Nut. Wonder why the Gadar lady accepted such a side role after doing some unwanted movies after. I guess she needs Sunny Paaji's shout-over-the-roof voice or Hrithik's bare-body stunts to rev her image up as an actress. And there's Aditya Pancholi too, the so-called Godfather in this movie with the qualities of none. Imagine Godfather speaking like a buffoon about printing cards and all! Or having a very dull entry with an overly blackened suit to hide the image. Do Godfathers move around with girls all the time while they are into something important working? Well, Race 2 makes you believe that so.

How did we forget about Anil Kapoor, the bare-body-artist who can make even Salman Khan shiver? Check that scene where he gets intimate with Ameesha. You'll know why I don't dare to explain. Deepika's entry was raunchy, makes you think who tore her dress off for her to get out of the helicopter. She does similar acting, like that Marathi-toned speech being a multi-billionaire heiress living somewhere outside India or showing some skin. And there's the imported item, Miss Srilankan-so-called-actress, Jacqueline Fernandez. Somebody please tell her to speak properly and change her dubbing person. It looks like I'm seeing Murder series within an action-comedy. She's got no looks, no action, like a wax model. So overall, actresses stand out as not even mere eye-candies like the South Indian counterparts.

Let's come to the main starcast, John Abraham and Saif Ali Khan. You'd want to know, right from the first scene why John avenges out on Saif, but the dumb suspense is taken till the end where in he reveals why. And that too, in a single line that he loved the manly-Bipasha before Saif took over. Sort of real-life-turned-reel plot, I say. His body has made his face look saggy, he shouts way above his girly voice and fights worse than Balakrishna. And then, there's Saifu, Kareena's Saifu. In order to portray him being the hero, God knows why he accepts such a loose plot. He jumps off rocky buildings and not even a scratch appears on his body! For christ's sake, even James Bond faces injuries but not our Ranveer. He can think faster than the computer and manages to jeopardize his villians better than Jason Bourne. Owing to this movie's prequel, he was the only hope of expectation and he sometimes, delivers.

A small token of condolences to Abbas-Mustan's direction as well, a feat I admired during the Baazigar days. It's surprising to see what happened to them to sketch this plot loosely compared to it's predecessor and hover it around.

Overall, I wanted to spend my Sunday happily and now, this blogpost will be the reason why it went haywire.

Cheers!

Quickie Vacation

I must be out of my mind. Seriously! For the fact of putting up a post immediately after one published a day earlier. Or maybe, I've nothing else to do apart from thinking bad English and putting up nonsense here as always.

And this repeats to the vacation that lasted. For Ten. Full. Days.
Yes! A vacation that never seemed to cease until the D-Day arrived. Which is today, the 12th of February.

Sometimes 12th of February reminds me of a school friend. He used to dress up in some colorful shirt with red, white and violet flowers all over and a simple khaki pants to cover it up. And some sneakers not to forget, the ultimate pleasure in skipping shoes for one single day. And his torn bag was filled with books and one small tiffin box, which used to have some awesome "Mango Bite" candies to be shared with. The entire classroom used to wait for those candies and everyone was poking the teacher to begin the birthday song. Even the teachers were a little greedy, for they used to get higher numbers, three to be exact, compared to one per kid in the class. And thus, began the royal red carpet welcome for our boy and the entire class used to stand up and began.

"Happy Birthday to You!..."

It feels ridiculous to sing that song now. Many do the same thing, reasons unknown. Must be shyness, or feeling childish for a flicker or just pla8in attitude. I don't know. I just sing but NOT in the eyes of the celebrity of that day. I really don't know. Coming back, after wishing the boy starts to share his "toffees" to the class as mentioned, one per kid. The entire box was offered but we were allowed to pick up only one from the lot. Sometimes, I felt like snatching the tin box itself but feared, reasons again, unknown.

Just after this thought, came the thought of that flight which I feel, to never take. To always sit around, lazying like a lion, eating heartily at others' cost. Let's not get into life, as one pal lectures about. I know, I need to be serious at times and that return ticket reminds me just of that which I'm happy about. But, let's summarize what I did.

Beginning with family, embracing them in that chilly weather, began the day I arrived. And then, began series of meetings with friends and some food to binge upon. And er.. a party to finish them all only at the unwilling acceptance to celebrate. And, not a single day did I work!

And thus, that time comes when the question returns, "So, when're you coming back next time?" for which has no answer until I catch that flight again..

See you in Singapore!

An Edit: On the way to Singapore..

I can't spare a new post for this. So, stuffing this here itself. Flying by the classy, Singapore Airlines for the first time sure gives a bit of jitters as the crowd around, be it that Indian fellow in his shorts with his beautiful looking wife/girlfriend beside or that whitey guy who just cribs about service. It was just a classy flight, with lush interiors, ample leg room and a host of menu options. Switching from a budget airlines to such is quite a transition and I hope it just doesn't make me addicted to.

Only problem is, you have far less time to sleep after appreciating the courtesy, which took nearly half of the journey's time.

Research-based Coding: The side of a developer.

The full-time developer, separates himself from the professional software industry and lands up in an university to code and explore. This is an experience to look forward to for the developer himself, in times of trouble and motivation. And it started to rain.

Okay. Let me summarize like my old History teacher way back in school, the Paayint system. Means to write in bullet points. As if making a presentation for every stupid answer like how Babur attacked India and Akbar was crowned the King later on. Imagine. In points! I'm sure, even the Din-i-ilahi would laugh his way out at this strategy to earn marks.

Okay. I use a lot of Okays. A way to focus from the randomness. Irritating, right? Just cannot escape from this gibberish as the work involves a lot of randomness too. You're being assigned to design the next big thing and all that you have is a stupid laptop running Linux on it.

Okay, okay, I know. Linux is my favorite too. In fact, most of the developers' favorites as per studies which I haven't encountered any. Hooked into Ubuntu and that's it. You feel as if you're controlling NASA's satellites with that `printf ` code all the time. And then come in some SDKs, a constant running batch job, some emulators to see how your dumb code appears and voila! It starts to work, only to the dismay of the personnel and disappointment at that dull design of yours.

This is the basic problem in a research-based coding arena. DESIGN! And better that be bloody quick and  attractive! You've to use the `latest` technologies to put more weight in your work which itself, takes days for you to sink in as you don't have any mentor to ask for some sample code. And then, go through that stupid "Hello, World!" fonts every time, feel proud of achieving this, and then go blank for the actual work all over. Rinse and repeat for other technologies. Bleh.

And this doesn't stop at that. Deadlines become so tight that you're constantly feeling of missing your train every minute you finish. Or like a rope being tightened at every extra line of code. And once you finish, the requirement changes. Rope loosens and a new train appears. The loop runs. Again.

But, a good thing also comes up in between. Of the all nuisances and mental stress, you somewhere find freedom. Freedom to be yourself. Freedom to code yourself. Freedom to get credit for the work. Freedom to build your resume the way you wanted. Freedom to go to the restroom. Freedom to eat for twenty minutes and fifteen seconds only. Freedom to stay after everybody else departs. Of course, in between as mentioned already. Just before reality strikes. In the morning when you er.. open your eyes and hurry to the bathroom for a refresh to get back to the lab.

Alright. No technical words used apart from Linux, Ubuntu, emulators and so on. So, thank you for ignoring them if you haven't pointed already. You know what I mean. It is against company policies, you know!

See? I just can't manage the Paayint system and use to fail miserably at History for this very fact in spite of it being a `naice` subject. 

Rain was about to pour, bloody earth smell is hovering only. Saturn, I tell you.

Long time no post, so this.

Bye.