An aged wife tells her husband,

“You could have just driven away without a care in the world
for me, and forsaken me”

With a pause pregnant with unsaid emotions he whispers,

“Not a chance.”

‘It’s easy to point out problems in this world. It’s difficult to offer solutions.’

The maiden directorial venture by Aamir Khan does ‘that’ difficult part with aplomb.

‘Taare
Zameen Par’ revolves around the stifling pressures that a dyslexic
child faces in our society, in our times. Ishaan Avasti ( Darsheel
Safery) is like any fun loving kid who enjoys catching the odd fish
from the gutters, keeps gawking at the mother-bird feeding her
fledglings and pick up fights with the domineering bully of the pack
when things become too unbearable. Yet, something makes him special. He
sees the world through the colourful window of his mind. A fertile
imagination gifts him with a creative edge he manifests through the
interplay of colours in his paintings. Yet, something ails his progress
in academics. Curiously, he mixes up all his spellings, can’t say a ‘d’
from a ‘b’ and ‘9 * 3’ is somehow 3 owing to some cosmic collision only
his mind can conjure in its full imaginative inflation. Failure in
exams ensues and parents get anxious. The apparent ploy to shirk
studies seems to be the only plausible reason to them. Frustrated with
umpteen attempts at correcting his ‘flaws’ and his habitual relapses he
is sent to a boarding school. The sequence where his mother (Tisca
Chopra) turns back to leave him at the mercy of the unknown premises of
the boarding school is so beautifully picturised, with the

heart rending delivery of “ kya itna buraa hoon main maa....”
(by Shankar Mahadevan) playing in the background that I am sure there
are few, if any, people who did not have a tear-drop gracing their eyes
at that moment.

Expectedly,
boarding school only makes Ishaan a prisoner of the ‘conventional
treatment’ that is meted out to non-performers in our education system.
He blots out the cruel world and locks himself in a shell of desolation
and pain. The portrayal of helplessness in a child on ‘not being
understood’ by people around him is dispensed with a nuanced perfection
found only in past masters of cinema. Aamir (along with Amole Gupte)
donning the director’s hat for the first time has charmed with his
exquisite timing and sensitivity in dealing with the subject which
demanded a perceptive depiction along with artistic finesse.

Aamir enters the scene as an art-teacher in the dying moments of the first-half (albeit with a

clowning act with much fanfare which seemed much redundant) and hopes
of resurrection are ignited. Being a victim of dyslexia in his
childhood, Aamir identifies the problem in Ishaan. He fights with the
principal, and later convinces him that it is only a matter of time
before Ishaan can compete with others with a little help and
understanding. He devotes his time and energies to address the
difficulties that Ishaan is facing and soon the boy shows marked
improvement. An ‘Open to All Painting Competition’ becomes the
culmination of the mutual success of the teacher-student pairing as
Ishaan beats his teacher to bag the first-prize in the competition.

The
whirlpool of emotions ranging from despair to joy, from rejection to
relief attains a magical crescendo at the prize distribution ceremony.
A tearful hug replete with unsaid words of gratitude and affection are
so touching that one cannot help but give vent to one’s emotions,
hiding in the darkness of the tiers to shed a few tears of empathy.

Repentant
and reformed, Ishaan’s father takes him back to his home on a vacation
wherefrom a happy ending starts. Both for Ishaan and his family, and
Aamir, the teacher.

The smell of success and hope is palpable even when the credits roll.

Prasoon
Joshi, take a bow. The ad-man has penned lyrics laden with pathos and a
deep understanding of children’s psyche (he says he owes it o his
little girl) that has an evocative appeal written all over it.

Shankar is breathtaking with his poignant renditions of songs like, “ tu sab jaanti hai.....hai na maa...” (MP3 provided above), “Mera jahaan...” and the title track.

The
trio of Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy has again proved what good quality jamming
can produce as the music of the film is a sure highlight poised to make
a mark of it’s own in the coming days.

Aamir
as a director has shown the class expected out of an outright
perfectionist like him. The sensitive interpretation of the story is so
seamlessly accomplished till the end that one cannot really put a
finger on a flaw that glares in its nonconformity with the script. The
occasional inclusion of a few ‘symbolic scenes’ (as when Aamir watches
a mother and child on a bus) and the comic (but of doubtful necessity)
entry of himself as the art-teacher were noticeably deletable.
Otherwise, “Taare Zameen Par” is a winner.

Aamir has delivered a success.

Darsheel has outdone Aamir

The
child artist has not only done justice to the troubled character he
portrays with élan but also etched a niche of special recall within the
deep recesses of our minds where childhood memories and their attendant
anxieties recline in blissful languor of forgetfulness, almost
untouched by the mechanically motivated lives we live. After watching
the film every person sitting in the stands who has ever faced a
similar problem in his childhood will come to associate Darsheel’s
gawky features and his wide expressive eyes with his memories and
rejoice at his victory at the end of the film, though not his own. That
is exactly where the film succeeds, in drawing the audience to think
sympathetically on a socially relevant issue.

“Taare
Zameen Par” lets everyone take something back to their homes from the
theatre. A sensitive heart receptive to other’s problems, responsive to
a child’s troubles, understanding of a passing disability and most
importantly, throbbing with a lasting sensation of triumph.

And to me, that’s cinema.

Hold my hands

Come to me

Sing to me in trance

While candle burns

In thinning light

And magic does its dance

Drown a while

Breathe for life

And see death face to face

Murder me

If eyes could kill

But stay in my embrace.

The violin strings

That filters pain

Tear them down with glee

Wail with pain

And smile that smile

You often smiled at me.

The breeze is strong

The limbs are weak

A dizzy numbness leads

To hollow roads

And empty hearts

The passion in us pleads

A lilt in steps

Hair askew

Kohl smudged in your eyes

In cold of night

We warm our hearts

The corner shop that serves us tea

And houses all furore.

From rising price to falling stars

In voices shrill and sore.

A pair of eyes does follow them

Look askance at their din

When closing shop with little hands

Or washing strainers clean.

A simple riddle troubles her,

At times, does make her smile

How grown up men have silly fights

Knowing all the while

That people die and prices rise,

Stars shoot down during night.

Amongst things that never change

Her book soaks in streetlight.

“Film-makers sell dreams in bottles”, they say. Coming out of the screening of ‘Om Shanti Om’ I am sure to have augmented ‘their’ number by one.

Come Friday afternoon and one needed to click no further than rediff.com or any news-portal to know all about the two films (the other being Bhansali’s Sawariyaa). ‘Om Shanti Om’
got mixed response as I found out on the net. Some speculated on its hackneyed story-line. Some drew out daggers to dissect the film’s
apparent lack of substance, befitting of men used to watching ‘parallel cinema’ in empty multiplexes. I went to watch the film with a blank
mind and a subdued eagerness which often accompanies film-enthusiasts who have been recently dished out a cinematic dodomaa(that will be a two-blast firecracker popular in Bengal) wrapped in a glittering gift-pack ( in the form of ‘No Smoking’. Ohhh! Don’t even remind me of that).
Watching the noon show of ‘OM SHANTI OM’ this Saturday in a packed house full of mad whistling and wild cheering changed all borrowed perceptions and premonitions about the film. The film is a thorough entertainer. So I thought.

Keeping with the traditions of upholding Bollywood-cliché the film doesn’t miss out on many. Farah Khan in this self-confessed tribute to the 70s has done much better than ‘Main Hoon Naa’,
a film I came to despise marginally for its ‘lack of originality in copying’ Matrix-stunts. OSO opens by taking us to the 70’s of Hindi
cinema where heroes in chequered suits and heroines in red convertibles (laden with giggling saheliyaan) used to hold sway. Shah Rukh Khan (as Om Prakash Makhija) is his own energetic self as a junior artist with dreams of making it big in the industry. He worships the screen diva, Shantipriya( the beautiful Deepika Padukone),
whom he later rescues from fire and expectedly love ensues between unequals in typical filmi style of yore. Only there is this problem of
Arjun Rampal (playing the scheming film producer, Mukesh Mehra) spoiling the love-story for them. But, only for this life-time.

The second half sees a reborn Om Makhija as Om Kapoor(SRK of course) who is also a star-son enjoying all its attendant extravagance. Screaming headaches chase him to the discovery of his pichhlaa janm (previous life’s exploits). Suddenly there is vengeance in the air and a Sandy surfaces (Deepika in shorts, minis, spaghettis and shorts again. Well, that’s how Farah Khan decided to portray today’s modern woman. Goes down fine with the audience it seemed, from their cat-calls and all) to aid Khan in his mission. Then there is a twist in the tail of the tale.And then a happy ending.

The film is a sumptuous salad of all possible clichés ever employed in the services of Hindi cinema. From rebirth to forbidden love, from dreams coming true to poetic justice, from song and dance to filial love, we feel we have seen it all before. But, during the film we actually enjoy absorbing the time-worn plots and sequences, as if rolling them over our tongues to relish their old yet unforgettable tastes. Feeling just a tad nostalgic about the bygone days and their fashion symbols. The spoofs on cine-stars of yesteryears are funny, the lookalikes poorly selected. The two romantic songs in “Ankhon mein teri...” and “Main agar kahoon....” are pleasantly melodious and craftily picturised. Shah Rukh is as vibrant as ever, a trait which has assured him his place at the top over the years. The passion which he brings into every character he plays is positively palpable to the audience sitting in the last rows of a theater.

He does not belie expectations in OSO too. Delivering goods at every given opportunity (especially after an off-beat film like ‘Chak De! India’ did well) he has maintained his ‘Bankable’ status with style and much fanfare through OSO. Deepika Padukone is stunning and looks every bit the screen goddess she portrays in the film. But, only future can tell if she can perform, given a wider scope to actually act rather than just look ‘promising’. Kiron Kher and Sreyas Talpade perform to their brief and come up with flawless performances. Rampal too looked menacing in his suits and sideburns. But what takes the cake as promised is the ‘31 star studded song’. “ The Song ” was enjoyable to the core (I actually counted all the 31 appear as others climbed up their seats for a little jig). It was mind-numbing entertainment. Totally in keeping with the Hindi film style.
No two ways about it.

‘Om Shanti Om’ will surely be a big commercial success. It might take some beating to equal its success even in the coming few years, I guess. And it will establish one thing beyond the scope of any doubt once again. That being, “We love our Masala films”. Even today.

Whether the advent of low-budget-meaningful-cinema ever overtake the grand success of magnum clichés like OSO waits to be seen in the future. Who knows.

“Kyonki.......

Picture abhie baaki hain, mere dost.”

Let falling leaves not make a sound.

As peace prevails and night abound.

Intertwined in fingers frail....

A numbing softness love entail.....

One last time in your embrace....

Myself and Death stand face to face.

Narrow lanes.
Brick-lined curbs.
Scattered rows of human hearth.
And then the never ending road
Stubborn not to end.

Loopy smoke
Jaded clouds
Smiling men in rainbow shrouds

 Walking down the treaded path
Stopping by the bend.

Eager eyes.
In teary mess.
Drinking down the loneliness
Peppered with the bitter snack
Of  love not making way.

Hatred frowns.
Freeze in time.
Lavenders with lilies rhyme
Joyous dance the young at heart.
To lose the squandered day. 
 

The chimneys at the other bank cough out muffled ire.
The dogged looking little boats seem to be on fire
In hope of lighting up the sky mimic starry quiver
Yet in languid meander swell the lazy river.

Of lovers in their sweet embrace, untouched by all vice
In corners within kisses deep, lust lives in disguise.
Vendors in their tattered best, invite in their voice
Vie to make a meal for night. A virgin makes her choice.


Curiosity peeps to see, if filth could find its path
To banks of sacred pilgrimage. A Brahmin takes his bath.
The silent tale of Ghats in play, the river sullen, quiet.
As sunset kisses whiskey-skies, pheasants take their flight.


 

The sting of love
Just bit me hard
And hit me out of play.
That made me numb
In head and heart
And froze me for a day.
I still look lost
To friends around
They hug me to ensure
Say, “All is fine.”
“It’s all that is.”
“To every sting’s a cure.”
My vision blurred
My mind sloshed out
A crazy song on lips.
In need for speed
To liven life
I let love give me creeps.
 

Petter is a special child. Not because he has some physical disability but, because he has got an immense gift. The gift of imagination. The gift that renders him helpless in distinguishing between ‘recalled reality’ and ‘recalled fantasy’, he engages himself in a business both profitable and perilous. He starts distributing his ideas and plots to intellectually challenged individuals who make a living out of building novels around their borrowed framework. With time both wealth and recognition comes to know of Petter. But, his is an extraordinary life. A life riddled with imperfections and anxieties. A troubled childhood combined with a deep sense of isolation makes him commitment-phobic. Though he loves, he loves with a fraction of himself always held back in reserve. Almost in anticipation of a setback.

 Maria, the only woman amongst numerous flings who he comes to love truly leaves him for a life in Stockholm. She gives birth to a daughter he is never to know of. Life with its glorious uncertainties moves on for Petter and unexpectedly comes full circle in the most inopportune manner. In times
that prove to be both difficult and dangerous for his existence Petter discovers love again. But, this time in the arms of an intriguing stranger in an unknown land. A tortuous road to rediscovery and revelation shatters Petter and takes the reader along with him to his nemesis.

 A beautiful book which I am sure will find equal favor with my reader friends.