Piku : Lovable

Pi(c) ku of the bunch!

Piku is that melodious strain of santoor, that welcome first drizzle of rain that soaks your soul ever so gently and makes you want to be a better person, at least till the effect lasts. And the best thing is that it does that without preaching, nothing is overt here but the messages are loud and clear. And they make you suddenly realize that it is possible to be better - a better father, daughter or a friend. The sheer positivity is the film’s biggest strength.

Shoojit Sirkar, whose last outing was the brilliant ‘Vicky Donor’, which was around the tricky, could-have-been sleazy topic about sperm-donation, revives the old Hrishkesh Mukherjee world in Piku and deals with the endearing father-daughter relationship under the guise of a family battling with… gawd-help-us…. constipation.

Piku is about the road-trip the father-daughter take from Delhi to Kolkata, and Rana, the person who wily-nilly ties the fussy father’s make-shift ‘mobile’ potty atop his cab and drives them there.

The film opens like that hidden window through which you eavesdrop on this cantankerous Bengali family consisting of just two members – Piku (Padukone) and her 70 year old father, Bhaskor Bannerjee (Bachchan). It’s quite a different thing that the old man is more than a handful, with his perennial obsession with his constipation, his eternal suspicion of maids taking him for a ride and his firm belief  that marriage is for women with ‘low IQ’ not for Piku.

 We see and empathize with the frustrations of the hectic life of this working, unmarried girl as she juggles with a demanding career, her difficult father, her household with all its attendant problems of quitting maids, choking drains and accumulating cobwebs. Along with all this she tries to maintain some kind of a social life alive too. She seems to have given up the idea of ever marrying as she feels duty-bound to care for her cranky, old father and doubts if anybody will agree to take her along with her ’70-year-old child’.

 The way the father gets on his daughter’s nerves with his eternal pre-occupation with his health in general and his bowels in particular and the way she shouts back at him is so ‘us’ that we thank God that the days of mutely self-sacrificing daughters and angelic dads are finally over. We also completely identify with the real concern which lies just under the surface, in those small moments and unsaid things like the soft looks the father keeps for her daughter and the way she skips four stairs at a time when she hears that her father is unwell.

Rana Chowdhary (Khan) enters this volatile equation in the unenviable position of the man who has to ferry them to Kolkata in his cab. Caught between the baffling duo, he earns their respect with his common –sense and ready wit. The old man finally meets his match in him when his unreasonable demands are rebuffed in no uncertain terms. The understated attraction between Rana and Piku is again a reminder how love happens in the real world.

The performances in ‘Piku’ are decidedly among the finest for all its actors. The paunchy Bachchan excels while throwing tantrums about just about everything and is hilarious when he gets sad that all his reports were normal! It is magical how this man conveys more with a blink than any other actor with pages of dialogues! Padukone can chalk this too up as a winner with her nuanced portrayal of a frustrated but arrogant girl finally finding her peace and balance with the earthy ‘Rana’. And as Rana, Khan speaks more with his eyes and body and conveys as much as he does with his sharp one-liners. On screen after years, we find Chatterjee as Piku’s aunt, as vibrant as and feistier than she was in her hey-days, giving back as well as she gets from her brother-in-law.

The biggest credit goes to Juhi Chaturvedi for her brilliant screenplay and dialogues. The screenplay is the hero of the film which overrides any need for over-the-top drama or larger-than-life platform to bring home some pertinent questions whether it is about caring for one’s parents however problematic that may be or true woman’s emancipation by the way Piku unself-consciously admits to physical needs and the ultimate truth that our roots are us. Chaturvedi manages to pack this and more in without once going preachy or moralistic.

Cinematographer Kamaljeet Negi deserves applause for bringing alive the milieu of the dusty narrow lanes of Chittranjan Park and the beauty of Kolkata without taking us on a scenic-city-tour. And finally, hats off to the captain helming the show, Sirkar has the advantage of being a Bengali, but it also needs minute attention to detail to bring alive the sheer Bengali-ness. The nighty-clad lady of the house, deftly chopping vegetables on a ‘boti’ (a gadget typical to all Bengali homes to chop anything from vegetables to fish) ; the circular ‘alpana’ in the open yard; the way a simple conversation can explode into a full-blooded verbal battle and yes, the hypochondria every self-respecting Bengali suffers from is guaranteed to bring a sheepish but delighted smile of recognition on every Bengali lip.

With ‘Piku’ Shoojit Sirkar has firmly established himself in the pantheon of this new breed of directors like Rajkumar Hirani (of Munnabhai, 3 Idiots, PK fame) and  Vikas Bahl  (Chillar Party, Queen) who may just bring back story and performance- oriented movies which do not need the crutches of violence and sleaze oozing out of every frame.

Piku : Lovably yours!

Pi(c) ku of the bunch! Piku is that melodious strain of santoor, that welcome first drizzle of rain that soaks your soul ever so gently and makes you want to be a better person, at least till the effect lasts. And the best thing is that it does that without preaching, nothing is overt here but the messages are loud and clear. And they make you suddenly realize that it is possible to be better - a better father, daughter or a friend. The sheer positivity is the film’s biggest strength. Shoojit Sirkar, whose last outing was the brilliant ‘Vicky Donor’, which was around the tricky, could-have-been sleazy topic about sperm-donation, revives the old Hrishkesh Mukherjee world in Piku and deals with the endearing father-daughter relationship under the guise of a family battling with… gawd-help-us…. constipation. Piku is about the road-trip the father-daughter take from Delhi to Kolkata, and Rana, the person who wily-nilly ties the fussy father’s make-shift ‘mobile’ potty atop his cab and drives them there. The film opens like that hidden window through which you eavesdrop on this cantankerous Bengali family consisting of just two members – Piku (Padukone) and her 70 year old father, Bhaskor Bannerjee (Bachchan). It’s quite a different thing that the old man is more than a handful, with his perennial obsession with his constipation, his eternal suspicion of maids taking him for a ride and his firm belief that marriage is for women with ‘low IQ’ not for Piku. We see and empathize with the frustrations of the hectic life of this working, unmarried girl as she juggles with a demanding career, her difficult father, her household with all its attendant problems of quitting maids, choking drains and accumulating cobwebs. Along with all this she tries to maintain some kind of a social life alive too. She seems to have given up the idea of ever marrying as she feels duty-bound to care for her cranky, old father and doubts if anybody will agree to take her along with her ’70-year-old child’. The way the father gets on his daughter’s nerves with his eternal pre-occupation with his health in general and his bowels in particular and the way she shouts back at him is so ‘us’ that we thank God that the days of mutely self-sacrificing daughters and angelic dads are finally over. We also completely identify with the real concern which lies just under the surface, in those small moments and unsaid things like the soft looks the father keeps for her daughter and the way she skips four stairs at a time when she hears that her father is unwell. Rana Chowdhary (Khan) enters this volatile equation in the unenviable position of the man who has to ferry them to Kolkata in his cab. Caught between the baffling duo, he earns their respect with his common –sense and ready wit. The old man finally meets his match in him when his unreasonable demands are rebuffed in no uncertain terms. The understated attraction between Rana and Piku is again a reminder how love happens in the real world. The performances in ‘Piku’ are decidedly among the finest for all its actors. The paunchy Bachchan excels while throwing tantrums about just about everything and is hilarious when he gets sad that all his reports were normal! It is magical how this man conveys more with a blink than any other actor with pages of dialogues! Padukone can chalk this too up as a winner with her nuanced portrayal of a frustrated but arrogant girl finally finding her peace and balance with the earthy ‘Rana’. And as Rana, Khan speaks more with his eyes and body and conveys as much as he does with his sharp one-liners. On screen after years, we find Chatterjee as Piku’s aunt, as vibrant as and feistier than she was in her hey-days, giving back as well as she gets from her brother-in-law. The biggest credit goes to Juhi Chaturvedi for her brilliant screenplay and dialogues. The screenplay is the hero of the film which overrides any need for over-the-top drama or larger-than-life platform to bring home some pertinent questions whether it is about caring for one’s parents however problematic that may be or true woman’s emancipation by the way Piku unself-consciously admits to physical needs and the ultimate truth that our roots are us. Chaturvedi manages to pack this and more in without once going preachy or moralistic. Cinematographer Kamaljeet Negi deserves applause for bringing alive the milieu of the dusty narrow lanes of Chittranjan Park and the beauty of Kolkata without taking us on a scenic-city-tour. And finally, hats off to the captain helming the show, Sirkar has the advantage of being a Bengali, but it also needs minute attention to detail to bring alive the sheer Bengali-ness. The nighty-clad lady of the house, deftly chopping vegetables on a ‘boti’ (a gadget typical to all Bengali homes to chop anything from vegetables to fish) ; the circular ‘alpana’ in the open yard; the way a simple conversation can explode into a full-blooded verbal battle and yes, the hypochondria every self-respecting Bengali suffers from is guaranteed to bring a sheepish but delighted smile of recognition on every Bengali lip. With ‘Piku’ Shoojit Sirkar has firmly established himself in the pantheon of this new breed of directors like Rajkumar Hirani (of Munnabhai, 3 Idiots, PK fame) and Vikas Bahl (Chillar Party, Queen) who may just bring back story and performance- oriented movies which do not need the crutches of violence and sleaze oozing out of every frame.

A Day in the Life of an Alwarite While the rest of the world gets up with ‘Good morning!’ , we, the Alwarites, get up with ‘Jaldi karo paani chala jayega, bijli chali jayegi’. But have you ever wondered how ‘caring’ our public departments are? You may not care about your health but our Water-works does! Take health for example. Would you get a regular work out if it wasn’t for the philanthropic water-board? Firstly, it decided to transform all slothful citizens into early-birds by starting the supply at 5:30 a.m., then to prevent the inevitable wastage, it releases just a wee trickle which can at the most fill your underground water-tanks. Add to that our wonderful Public Works, who, for some reason are digging up the city, which inevitably means a broken water-pipe every day, left unattended as long as possible. Both of these combined means that on the lucky days when no pipes are broken, you have to be up and running and bending to reach the tap in the tank the moment your eyes snap open. Should you mind it so much? No! Look at the benefits, hubby is bright-eyed and bushy tailed even without the first-cup of tea and gets a vigorous work-out running, bending, bending and running again to ensure all tanks and buckets are full for the day. Electricity board chips in with a power-cut so you don’t even think of cranking the booster-pump on. In one stroke, they’re saving electricity, giving you a free work-out and saving water, as you wouldn’t dare to waste such hard-earned water. Actually, these two boards are not just thinking of only your physical well-being, think of the emotional boost, the sublime sense of achievement when you see the tank filled up to its brim with sparkling water. Where else could you get this valuable lesson in being so happy with so little? There is also the greatest lesson ever of self-reliance- why rely on any board for basic-necessities? Get your own inverter, your own water-pump and free yourself of dependence! Employment generation is another thing which is often overlooked by people cribbing about bad governance. The streets are humming these days with a number of water – tankers. On the days when the Public works is successful in disrupting the meager water-supply we turn to these helpful people with their water-tanks. Imagine the number of people who must’ve got regular work because of this! And then there are those who refuse to buy water- their basic necessity, they say, and take out rallies in protest. But have you ever wondered how many people get work writing placards or making those combustible effigies? For that matter, dare you blame corruption for a number of things including bad roads which disappear with the first shower of rain? If you do, you’re plain myopic. Such roads ensure steady work for a number of contractors, engineers, laborers etc. etc. for years, didn’t you know? Where would they be if roads lasted for years together? And if you look a little deeper, who’s behind it all? Our governance, of course! Ineffective, you think? Just be in their shoes for a while and imagine what all they have to contend with. Starting with making plans full of loopholes, to handing out work which ensures steady income- for them of course, (what did you think?); to ensuring nothing progresses smoothly and then the most important part- make sure of following the ‘monkey on the pole’ principle- 3 steps up, 2 steps down- this way nothing will ever be complete, which will ensure years of work for everybody! Do you still blame the authorities for not taking their work seriously??

Withered blooms

How green is my garden!

http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/home/opinion/edit-page/Withered-bloom/articleshow/12222990.cms

Our gardener and I share a love-hate relationship. I love seasonal flowers and he hates them. He thinks of flowers as pests and keeps wondering what earthly use are they. If he could have his way he’d transform our little garden into a vegetable patch. “You can eat fresh vegetables everyday!” is his standing argument, for which he has encroached a third of the area and planted his utter favorites – gourds, methi and spinach.

No amount of persuasion with this ‘maali baba’ works, so I usually pitch in myself, while he watches with a disdainful sneer. My experiments always start with sowing the seeds, waiting patiently for a month for the plants to sprout, losing patience and invariably ending with a shamefaced visit to the nursery for plants ready to bloom. Despite the fiascos which happen every year with monotonous regularity I haven’t lost faith in myself- one day I’ll grow, and not buy, my seasonal flowers.
And a month ago I found the big polythene bag bulging with seeds. They were not labeled but I was sure that they were the same I had painstakingly collected last year. I rushed with it to the garden- getting our all-in-one office boy to strew them in the characteristically empty flower- bed was a matter of minutes. And then the wait began.

This year it looked like my persistence was about to be paid off. Tiny, bright green plants sprouted and soon covered the barren flower-bed. Excited I emptied a bucketful of fertilizer and was rewarded with a fresh burst of growth which threatened to choke the bed. Getting to thinning down the plants, I carefully plucked plants by handfuls and replanted them in all the flower-pots and remaining flower beds. Still there was a surplus and working on the ‘do unto your neighbors ….’ principle, I distributed it freely to neighbours, advising them sagely to plant not more than four plants per pot.
“What is it?” one of the ladies asked, eyeing the tender green plants.
“Oh, flowers…,” I said with a superior smile, these people knew so little about plants, “multicolored flowered, they’ll bloom in March!”
“They look familiar, you know…” she said a bit doubtfully. I couldn’t help laughing, “Oh, they do, but don’t worry they’re those lovely flowers…”

I rediscovered the joys of nurturing- watering the plants diligently, swatting away our pet when he tried to eat the labours of love and everywhere in our garden I could see the pearls of my hard-work.

But something was missing. The one thing I do know about flowering plants is that they start budding when the weather turns warm. And mine were just going on sprouting more and more leaves. Maybe they would bloom late, I told myself and sprinkled some more fertilizer in the hope that it’d hasten flowering. They became positively luxuriant but still no budding.
And then, the other night it suddenly struck me, how come we had such a huge packet of seeds? Our measly buys from the nursery yielded hardly a spoonful, so where had that big polythene come from?
The next morning I surreptitiously compared the leaves of Baba’s spinach patch and my plants- they looked distressingly, alarmingly similar. I bit of tiny pieces of both- they tasted exactly the same!

I brought out the offending polythene bag and held it under Baba’s nose, “Which seeds are these?” I asked him, half-sure of his answer myself.
He took out a handful, peered carefully and put it back, “Spinach” he said happily, ”Keep it safely, we’ll use it next year,” he beamed more broadly, “this year you’ve done a very good thing by filling all those silly flower-beds and pots with spinach….”

Did I wait to hear more? I did not.
I was on my way on the oft-beaten track to the nursery.
And the neighbors are yet to know the truth.
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A small voice: Celebrating Myself!

A small voice: Celebrating Myself!

http://www.womensweb.in/articles/celebrating-myself/