Justice For SSR

Sushant Singh Rajput is unlikely to get justice. Why, you ask? Simple: Because the same factor that set the "Justice For SSR" ball rolling will derail the movement. And that factor is Us.

Sushant Singh Rajput

Have you ever wondered why the Palghar Sadhu Lynching incident didn't kickstart a mass movement of protest but the death of a 34-year-old actor did? Again, simple: It had nothing to do with "Oh Hindu Sadhus therefore ignored" (though that was definitely there), but the heinous, cold-blooded, long-in-the-making and utterly, absolutely ruthless manner in which a celebrity with a boy-next-door image was surrounded by a group of rich and powerful and pushed to a dark corner from which there was no escape except a long last fall over the edge into oblivion, and subsequently the media-police-politician-bollywood-underworld nexus that worked like a scarily well-oiled machinery to hush up the case, which reminded the country about the Dec 2012 atrocity in Delhi and roused the nation's collective conscience. It was, simply put, a question: "If such a terrible thing can happen to Sushant, then what hope do we commonfolk have?" It was a repeat act of the question that the country had asked itself at the time of Nirbhaya. This time, it was Sushant.

A major, major clean-up of the viper's den that bollywood has become has been overdue. Anyone not conforming to the rules is given a gentle push over the edge, a figurative hand in the back, and the rest is taken care of police investigations that find nothing suspicious, politicians who orchestrate their cadres in the guise of supportive fans, and media stooges who already have shiny, spanking-new clean chits out and waving in the air, pouring the milk of "child in a man's body" and "so much humanitarian work" and "weeps when he hears a 'lori' song and has to be consoled by his mum" on the blood of innocents dripping from the hands of the khans, the bhatts, the kapoors and the johars. Divya Bharti and Sridevi were drunk, Jiah Khan and Sushant and Parveen Babi were depressed... Same screenplay, different victims.

And this is where the secret of their escape route lies: the ability to orchestrate a whitewashing-and-hoodwinking campaign that has us eating out of their hands time and time again. We will forget all about Sushant the moment the next bachchan / srk / salman / ranbir kapoor film hits the theaters because to us, celebrating the glory of our stars who care two hoots about us matters more than innocent lives nipped in the bud in the most monstrous manner possible and justice and punishment...until the next dead body appears, hanging from the ceiling or drowned in a bathtub.

But remember one thing: the next guy or girl who falls victim to these hungry predators coming out of the scummy cesspool of unlimited power could be someone you love. I hope your breathless anticipation of the next bachchan / srk / salman / ranbir / deepika movie remains the same at that moment of utter despair.

P.S.: Here are some snaps of bollywood's A-listers with brothers Annel Mussarat and Nabeel Mussarat, two of pakistan's richest and most powerful businessmen, who often act as go-betweens between pakistan's ISI and the rich and the famous, esp of the Indian variety.
"Nothing wrong in being clicked with some businessmen, even if they're from pakistan," you say? Well, do remember that that is exactly how dawood ibrahim had dug his tentacles deep inside bollywood in the 1980s.

In Pictures below: Pakistani Businessmen Brothers Annel Mussarat and Nabeel Mussarat with various bollywood stars

Legend. Goddess. Superstar.

Note: This post is from the perspective of a true-blue fanboy. Do not come looking for any kind of objectivity in this one.

[Image courtesy: Google Images]

260+ films in a career spanning 51 years. An awards list longer than her own cascading-waterfall, raven-black locks. Regular—and effortless—eclipsing of her super-illustrious male co-stars like Kamal Haasan, Rajinikanth, Mithun Chakraborty, Rajesh Khanna, NTR and Amitabh Bachchan. Being recognized by colleagues, critics and audiences alike as “the only female superstar of Indian Cinema” and “the best Indian actress of all time”.

All this together serves to describe but a little part of the phenomenon, the one-woman army that Sridevi was. For she was much, much greater than the sum of her parts.

The oval-faced, olive-eyed beauty who drove men to heights of such romantic frenzy that they would forget their marital status and pursue her (she ultimately married two of them over the span of a decade in her life, with the first ending disastrously). Actress par excellence, who incited such insecurity among her co-stars—heroes and heroines alike—that they would actually avoid being cast in a movie with her, for she left nothing for others to do once the camera was switched on. Refusing to accept inconsequential, glamour-only roles, even if they came with blank cheques and/or were opposite the mighty Bachchan. And driving millions of her fans, nay, devotees, to throes of ecstasy with her monolith-melting performances over and over again, with her unique blend of talent of a god-level prodigy, innocence of a child, face of an angel, and body of a supreme seductress.

Au revoir, goddess. There shall be, there is, not one other like you. Not one other shall command our unswerving, unwavering devotion like you did. And do.

And shall keep doing. Forever and ever.

[Image courtesy: Google Images]

Some Thoughts On The 96th Anniversary Of The Jallian Wala Bagh Massacre

Exactly 96 years ago, on 13th April 1919, British Brigadier General Reginald E.H. Dyer ordered his troops to fire at will on a peaceful gathering at Jallian Wala Bagh, Amritsar, Punjab, causing more than 1,500 casualties. Over 1,650 rounds were fired and men, women, and even children were brutally massacred, making the incident the most barbaric civilian massacre in modern history.

On April 13, the traditional festival of Baisakhi, thousands of Hindus, Sikhs, and Muslims gathered at the Jallian Wala Bagh, a public garden near the Harmandir Sahib in Amritsar. An hour after the meeting began as per schedule at 4:30 pm, Dyer arrived with a group of 65 Gurkha and 25 Baluchi soldiers. 50 of them were armed with rifles. Dyer had also brought two armoured cars with machine guns. The vehicles were left outside as they were unable to enter the garden through the narrow entrance. The garden was surrounded on all sides by houses and buildings and had few a narrow entrances, most of them permanently locked. The main entrance was relatively wider but was guarded by the troops backed by the armoured vehicles.

Without warning the crowd to disperse, Dyer blocked the main exits. He explained later about this act: "…was not to disperse the meeting but to punish the Indians for disobedience." Dyer ordered his troops to begin shooting towards the densest sections of the crowd (including women and children). Firing continued for about 10 minutes. Ceasefire was ordered only when ammunition supplies were almost exhausted, after 1,650 rounds were spent. The official (then) GoI sources estimated that the fatalities were 379, with 1,100 wounded. The number estimated by Indian National Congress was more than 1,500, with approximately 1,000 getting killed.

And what happened to Dyer? He was removed from duty and forced to retire. But when he returned to Britain, he was presented with £26,000 raised on his behalf by the Morning Post newspaper, a women’s organization presented him with the 'Sword of Punjab', and a large number of influential Britishers, including Rudyard Kipling, thought he had done the right thing. He became a celebrated hero in Britain among people with connections to the British Raj.

In Dyer's own words:

• It is only to an enlightened people that free speech and a free press can be extended. The Indian people want no such enlightenment.
• There should be an eleventh commandment in India: "Thou shalt not agitate."
• The time will come to India when a strong hand will be exerted against malice and 'perversion' of good order.
• Gandhi will not lead India to capable self-government. The British Raj must continue, firm and unshaken in its administration of justice to all men.

The massacre caused a re-evaluation of the Army's role in which the new policy became minimum force and the Army was retrained and developed suitable tactics such as crowd control. Historians consider the episode as a decisive step towards the end of British rule in India.

Love, Life, And Hope

Love.

A tiny little four-letter word, often found lost, wandering unwanted in a wilderness populated by other, more vicious four-letter words.

When Kuttush, our Family's "Adopted Sister-come-Daughter" (a.k.a. our pet) passed away on 16th January 2012, she left behind a Family so distraught that we never imagined that we would ever fully recover. For the first time, we came to know Despair like we had never known before: a gut-wrenching, burning-your-insides kind of Pain that just wouldn’t go away.

The first year after Kuttush's passing away was especially hard. Baba (my Father) missed his devoted Companion and Daughter terribly. So badly was he cut up, we could almost see the bleeding heart inside. And that was a seriously worrying matter: we were not sure his heart would hold up to the immense psychological strain.

What made things even more difficult for all of us was that we, his biological children, were living several hundred kilometres away from him at the time (we still do), and professional and personal commitments rendered it greatly difficult for my Sister and me to keep visiting our Parents in Kolkata frequently.

But we needn't have worried. The tradition—of being a Constant Companion to my Father—was kept alive. By someone who looked like a mirror image of Kuttush.

Kiara. Her Daughter.

Kiara took over from where her Mother had left off. Like Kuttush, she became what her Mother was: Baba's constant Companion, Friend, Shadow, and a rich substitute for his absentee children. She would not let Baba out of sight for even a second, going without food and water for hours, indeed, even days on end if her Master stepped out of the house. During the day, her shadow would merge into his; at night, she would snuggle up next to him in bed and fall asleep—but with one eye open and trained on him, just as her Mother used to do, just as she had learned from her Mother.

And Baba lived.

His love for the Mother turned itself upon the Daughter and found a new lease of life, even as Kiara bloomed under his loving eye. Over the years, they became as inseparable as the Baba-Kuttush duo: eating and playing together, going out for the occasional walk, sharing a pillow during nap times, and generally living it up in each other's splendid company.

And my Family came to recognize the healing power of Love. We realized that if Death is the one great truth of Life, Love is the other; Death will take away and Love will replenish the void.

Because Love will always find a way.

(This post was originally published on Tanya Munshi's Lifestyle Portal on February 1, 2015. This version contains some edits/changes/updates. You can read the original article here.)

Beauty. Romance. Enigma.

When I was born, my Parents used to live in a rented apartment. The landlady had no grandchildren of her own and had taken to me, then a toddler, like fish take to water. My Parents called her 'Mashima' [aunt], which became 'Maasha' on my toddler's tongue. She was the one who introduced me to the magic of the Most Romantic Celluloid Couple Ever, 'Guru' [Uttam Kumar] and 'Gurumaa'. Today, Maasha is enjoying not only her Guru and Gurumaa's films in heaven, but their company too.

As for me, yet another link to my childhood has died, with the passing of 'Gurumaa', also known to the world as Suchitra Sen. There is an indescribable sadness that lingers, even three days after her death.

Because Suchitra Sen was not a mere film actress. She was a veritable goddess for whom my Father and I were rivals in love. That's who Mrs. Sen was.

Dear Rama-di, please say hello to Uttam Kumar from us, while we strive to refresh the golden memories with Harano Sur.

Sure Manna Dey Is No More?

I woke this morning to a deafening 'crack'. At first I thought it was some kid bursting crackers, but then I realized it was Pran, Rajesh Khanna, Kishore Kumar, and RD Burman together kicking down the door of Heaven, welcoming Manna Dey with shouts of rejoice.

God, what a gala party they must be having up there. The air has been thrumming with strains of "Tere naina talaash karein", "Phool gendwa na maaro", "Bhor aayi gaya andhiyaara", "Lagaa chunari mein daag", and "Bhay bhanjana vandana suun hamari" since last night.

And you thought Manna Dey is dead and gone?? All you could think of are "Tum bin jeevan kaisa jeevan" and "Kasme vaade pyaar waffa"?? Really??

No Country For Women, OR, A Nation Full Of Unbridled Misogynistic Libido

"Why? Why are we so shocked, so outraged over violence against women on the streets? Are we forgetting that this is India? Where a girl-foetus is not safe in her mother's womb; where a three-year-old baby is fair sexual game for her own father; where a godman as well as the Principal of a school can with impunity molest girls who have reposed their belief and trust in them; where educated husbands abuse their wives daily and equally educated friends justify that abuse? When wombs, schools, temples and even homes are not safe, why the shock about unsafe streets?"
— Sukanya Das [a much-loved and much-loving friend]

The malaise is not 'lack of awareness' or 'lack of education'. The malaise is INACTION.

Think, people, think. And then, for heaven's sake, ACT.

Or else, ere long, we will turn ourselves into A Nation Without Women.

And that will be the greatest injustice that a country can inflict upon itself.

Alas, India

"Let the House remember this. The Indian political parties and political classes do not represent the Indian masses. It is a delusion to believe that they do. I wish they did. They are not as representative of them as the movements in Britain represent the surges and impulses of the British nation. This has been proved in the war……The Congress Party declared non-co-operation with Great Britain and the Allies.……the Muslim League, sought to make a bargain about it, but no bargain was made.……Nevertheless, the only great volunteer army in the world that fought on either side in that struggle was formed in India. More than three and a half million men came forward to support the King-Emperor and the cause of Britain; they came forward not by conscription or compulsion, but out of their loyalty to Britain and to all that Britain stood for in their lives. In handing over the Government of India to these so-called political classes we are handing over to men of straw, of whom, in a few years, no trace will remain.

This Government, by their latest action, this 14 months limitation—which is what I am coming to— (will) cripple the new Viceroy and destroy the prospect of even going through the business on the agenda which has to be settled. This can only be explained as the complete adoption of one of Mr. Gandhi’s most scatterbrained observations, which I will read to the House. It was made on 24th May, 1942, after the Mission. He said: 'Leave India in God’s hands, in modem parlance, to anarchy; and that anarchy may lead to internecine warfare for a time, or to unrestricted dacoities. From these a true India will arise in place of the false one we see.' There, as far as I can see, is a statement indistinguishable from the policy His Majesty’s Government are determined to pursue."
— Sir Winston Churchill

Truer words were seldom spoken. The "men of straw" have infested this once-great land as might a demonic, inhuman entity possess a hapless soul and will not be exorcised.

A Prayer For My Nation

What this country has is literacy; what it needs is Education.

What this country has is freedom to do and say and think whatever we want to; what it needs is Guidance and Direction.

What this country has is politicians; what it needs is Leaders.

What this country has is anarchy in "unity in diversity"; what it needs is a Bond.

Your armchair patriotism that exists for one day will not change anything, nor will my perpetual sense of morbid cynicism. Because we both missed the point that the Freedom Struggle never ended. We failed to realize that on 15th August 1947, the Enemy merely shape-shifted and became an insider from an outsider. We failed to finish the battle. And we lost it.

And that is why, 66 years after we gained our "Independence", we remain as enslaved as we were. Maybe more.

What this country has is independence; what it needs is Maturity and Awakening as a society, as a people, as a nation.

I pray for that Awakening. I pray for that Maturity. I pray for Deliverance.

Farewell, Sher Khan

"होगा मसीहा सामने तेरे फिर भी न तू बच पायेगा,
तेर अपना खून ही आखिर तुझको आग लगायेगा,
आसमान में...
आसमान मे उड़ने वाले मिट्टी में मिल जायेगा,
कसमे वादे प्यार वफ़ा सब, बातें हैं बातों का क्या..."

For once, I will leave out the AB factor. The very fact that you acted in DON and ZANJEER was reason enough to not allow them to be remade, especially if that apology for an actor, Arjun Rampal—that I should mention you and him in the same sentence is itself a travesty—was going to play JJ.

RIP, Pran Sahab. To me, you represent not only the best era of Hindi Cinema, the 1970s, but also that rare breed of actors who were as valuable, if not more, to films as the lead actors. Hats off for all the entertainment and a 100-gun salute.

The Truth About Death

"People do not die from suicides. They die from sadness."
— Anonymous

On Betrayal

How did we reach this corner of the world?

I mean, the world’s supposed to be round, right? How come it has so many corners, then? Some sunny corners, where friends meet and greet and talk and fight and make up and love and stand up for each other…

…and this dank, damp, dark, lonely, crowded-with-shadows corner, where the memories of yesterday sulk in silence, grimy tears of painful nothingness rolling up their cheeks to disappear within the hollows of the empty holes that once held shining bright eyes that lit up at the sight of each other?

How did we reach this corner of the world?

Or maybe it's not "we", but "I", thanks to your betrayal.

Helpless, Frustrated Rage

In 1983, Amitabh Bachchan had acted in a film titled INQUILAAB, which showed how an educated young man, unable to bear any longer the shackles of crime that were strangling him, his society, his country, takes up arms and mows down an entire room-full of corrupt politicians. As a school-going kid, I had been fascinated by the film and the strong anti-political message it sent out [though in typical cinematic fashion].

Over the last few months/years, this country of ours has been dogged, indeed, hounded by a legion of corrupt politicians/law-makers/law-keepers. The recent spate of rape crimes against women in general and kids in particular has deepened my conviction that the only way this country can be salvaged is by going the INQUILAAB way.

Take up arms. Don't appeal to the law to act. Take up arms against whoever does you wrong. An eye for an eye may very well render the whole world blind, but blind purging is a lot more preferable than seeing with helpless, fearful, cowering eyes. This country has gone to the gutters. Only a blood revolution can save it from utter destruction now.

Die trying

How do you liberate someone who is a prisoner of his [or her] own soul? How do you break invisible shackles that emanate from one's own heart? How do you wipe away tears that are born in one's own blood-veins?

Maybe you can't. Maybe you won't be able to, ever. But what's the harm in trying, trying and hoping that one day, the barriers will come down, the tears will stop, the shackles will break?

Just die trying. Maybe that's what you've been created for: kiss the tears away, or die trying.

Love

My Love, My Dearest Poison.

My Life, My Beautiful Death.

My Heart, My Heavenly Hell.

My Soul, My Delicious Devil.

Godless & Barren – 2

The strings are broken, the sitar won't play any more.

The sea has dried up, now it's one long sandy shore.

The Sun forgot about the harshness of its own brilliance,

And now wants the Monsoon to give it one last chance.

Break the Bondage...and the Bond

Liberate yourself.

Liberate yourself with dignity. Liberate yourself with humility and without shame. Liberate yourself whichever way you can, whatever be the price.

Liberate. Liberate. Liberate.

Godless & Barren

Lack of inspiration is a lethal injection. It first numbs the mind, then kills the heart.

Lack of inspiration induces a feeling of godless existence. Then it slowly renders your emotionscape barren.

The Ballad Of The Solitary Drifter

"Loosen the grip and drift away...

Hoist anchor and sail away...

Let strangers no more hold sway...

Over you heart.

Over your blessed, lonely heart."

Memories

Memories.

Complex, complicated, relentless.
Maddening, frustrating, difficult.

Bring a smile to your lips when you are shrouded in melancholia.
Squeeze a drop from your heart when you are surrounded by gaiety.

A sidewalk you may have walked down with someone special. A blanket that belonged to someone, but now warms another. Sundown hour that was hitherto synonymous with tea made by an old, grown-accustomed-to hand, but from now on will announce the presence of a new one.

Memories.

Choking windpipes. Curving lips upwards.
Flooding eyes. Throbbing hearts.

Memories. What devils they are!