“Jane kahan gaye woh din”? A question that appears in most of our minds with respect to the songs of the golden era. The youth today, however, will beg to differ- at least some of them. They are getting back to listening and appreciating old Hindi music. The acute sense of nostalgia seems to be hitting them harder than earlier. Favoritism for western or modern Hindi music seems to have taken a backseat, while ‘classics’ of the by gone era seems to be emerging as the new trend.
The current generation has become overtly conscious of what they are being exposed to and this kind of awareness is bringing them to question all aspects of their life. Gone are the days when one would lie down and listen to ‘Snoop Dog’ and ‘Linking Park’. They all want to get back to the old hits by ‘Mohammad Rafi’ or ‘Kishore da’ and other masters of the same era.
The radio as a medium is helping popularize old music and plays an essential role where young people are exposed to classics during the peak hours of their work time. What has also played a significant role in the popularization of music and especially the Hindi Genre of music will have to be the coming of the i-pod or the Mp3 players which is so flexible and personal in nature. The individual is at liberty to choose his/her music and update it everyday. (Be it an Himesh Reshamiya or a Yesu Das, Lata Mangeshkar or Jatin- Lalit)
‘Old Hindi music is what I use to relax myself after a tough days work, it’s my only solace’ says finance and marketing executive, Pratik.
‘Many young people have grown up listening to the classics of old Hindi cinema and it’s an acquired taste, probably because their parents listened to a lot of it. The reason why they are turning back to the same is because they have now begun to think about what they really like’ says graphic designer, Karishma.
‘I had to be a part of the ‘hip’ social group when I was in college, which is why I had to divert my music interest from classic of Hindi to the hip hop and rap kind of music’, says a young IT employee.
With the increasing debate on the genre preferences of the youth one can never conclude as to which has the upper hand. But we cannot overlook the growing fondness for our ‘age old’ Hindi music.
This probably explains why the city need for Hindi music singers is slowly increasing. Most private parties lately prefer ‘Old’ Hindi music or genres like the Gazal. Maybe it won’t be long before everyone tunes into Doordarshan every Sunday morning to catch the ‘Chitrahar’.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Down memory lane
The year is 1993. My family just moved from Bareilly to Varanasi. I don’t like the house. It has huge rooms with tiny windows. We decided to move to a better house.
The place is called Vijay Nagar Colony. I love this house. It has nice rooms and a huge veranda from where I can see a large field which the laundry man uses to dry the clothes in the morning and children use as playground in the evening. The locality is studded with two-storied buildings arranged in neat rows.
The best part about this place is the people. They are warm and loving. Everyone is everyone’s child. It is like being a part of a huge family.
Then there is the incident which further strengthens my relationship with “my family”.
The year is 1997. I meet with a huge accident on my way back from school. My left ankle is broken and I am at the brink of losing consciousness. I manage to give the phone number of my neighbour to one of the spectators on the road. We don’t have a phone yet and my father is out of town.
The man, out of sympathy, empathy, whatever, calls Kaku (uncle). Within fifteen minutes Kaku is here, holding me in his arms, and rushing to the nearest hospital. I feel blackness enveloping me and I don’t feel anything else.
I open my eyes and I see Maa sitting next to me. I pan the whole room and see a lot of familiar faces smiling down at me. My tiny house is crammed with people from my para (locality). Maa tells me that Baba will be back the next day.
For the first time I love being ill. I am being showered with love and care—sweets galore. Everyone is helping me heal—physically and mentally. Some hold my hand and help me walk, some comfort me when I am in pain, and some even feed me when I don’t feel like eating.
After four months, I can now walk with a hint of a limp. The love, affection, and respect I have for them have increased many folds.
The year is 2007. I am at Kaku’s house, waiting to meet him before I go away to Bangalore. He is now older and I can spot the crow’s feet adjacent to his eyes. He sees me and exclaims, “How on earth did I lift you that day!”
The place is called Vijay Nagar Colony. I love this house. It has nice rooms and a huge veranda from where I can see a large field which the laundry man uses to dry the clothes in the morning and children use as playground in the evening. The locality is studded with two-storied buildings arranged in neat rows.
The best part about this place is the people. They are warm and loving. Everyone is everyone’s child. It is like being a part of a huge family.
Then there is the incident which further strengthens my relationship with “my family”.
The year is 1997. I meet with a huge accident on my way back from school. My left ankle is broken and I am at the brink of losing consciousness. I manage to give the phone number of my neighbour to one of the spectators on the road. We don’t have a phone yet and my father is out of town.
The man, out of sympathy, empathy, whatever, calls Kaku (uncle). Within fifteen minutes Kaku is here, holding me in his arms, and rushing to the nearest hospital. I feel blackness enveloping me and I don’t feel anything else.
I open my eyes and I see Maa sitting next to me. I pan the whole room and see a lot of familiar faces smiling down at me. My tiny house is crammed with people from my para (locality). Maa tells me that Baba will be back the next day.
For the first time I love being ill. I am being showered with love and care—sweets galore. Everyone is helping me heal—physically and mentally. Some hold my hand and help me walk, some comfort me when I am in pain, and some even feed me when I don’t feel like eating.
After four months, I can now walk with a hint of a limp. The love, affection, and respect I have for them have increased many folds.
The year is 2007. I am at Kaku’s house, waiting to meet him before I go away to Bangalore. He is now older and I can spot the crow’s feet adjacent to his eyes. He sees me and exclaims, “How on earth did I lift you that day!”
Down memory lane
The year is 1993. My family just moved from Bareilly to Varanasi. I don’t like the house. It has huge rooms with tiny windows. We decided to move to a better house.
The place is called Vijay Nagar Colony. I love this house. It has nice rooms and a huge veranda from where I can see a large field which the laundry man uses to dry the clothes in the morning and children use as playground in the evening. The locality is studded with two-storied buildings arranged in neat rows.
The best part about this place is the people. They are warm and loving. Everyone is everyone’s child. It is like being a part of a huge family.
Then there is the incident which further strengthens my relationship with “my family”.
The year is 1997. I meet with a huge accident on my way back from school. My left ankle is broken and I am at the brink of losing consciousness. I manage to give the phone number of my neighbour to one of the spectators on the road. We don’t have a phone yet and my father is out of town.
The man, out of sympathy, empathy, whatever, calls Kaku (uncle). Within fifteen minutes Kaku is here, holding me in his arms, and rushing to the nearest hospital. I feel blackness enveloping me and I don’t feel anything else.
I open my eyes and I see Maa sitting next to me. I pan the whole room and see a lot of familiar faces smiling down at me. My tiny house is crammed with people from my para (locality). Maa tells me that Baba will be back the next day.
For the first time I love being ill. I am being showered with love and care—sweets galore. Everyone is helping me heal—physically and mentally. Some hold my hand and help me walk, some comfort me when I am in pain, and some even feed me when I don’t feel like eating.
After four months, I can now walk with a hint of a limp. The love, affection, and respect I have for them have increased many folds.
The year is 2007. I am at Kaku’s house, waiting to meet him before I go away to Bangalore. He is now older and I can spot the crow’s feet adjacent to his eyes. He sees me and exclaims, “How on earth did I lift you that day!”
The place is called Vijay Nagar Colony. I love this house. It has nice rooms and a huge veranda from where I can see a large field which the laundry man uses to dry the clothes in the morning and children use as playground in the evening. The locality is studded with two-storied buildings arranged in neat rows.
The best part about this place is the people. They are warm and loving. Everyone is everyone’s child. It is like being a part of a huge family.
Then there is the incident which further strengthens my relationship with “my family”.
The year is 1997. I meet with a huge accident on my way back from school. My left ankle is broken and I am at the brink of losing consciousness. I manage to give the phone number of my neighbour to one of the spectators on the road. We don’t have a phone yet and my father is out of town.
The man, out of sympathy, empathy, whatever, calls Kaku (uncle). Within fifteen minutes Kaku is here, holding me in his arms, and rushing to the nearest hospital. I feel blackness enveloping me and I don’t feel anything else.
I open my eyes and I see Maa sitting next to me. I pan the whole room and see a lot of familiar faces smiling down at me. My tiny house is crammed with people from my para (locality). Maa tells me that Baba will be back the next day.
For the first time I love being ill. I am being showered with love and care—sweets galore. Everyone is helping me heal—physically and mentally. Some hold my hand and help me walk, some comfort me when I am in pain, and some even feed me when I don’t feel like eating.
After four months, I can now walk with a hint of a limp. The love, affection, and respect I have for them have increased many folds.
The year is 2007. I am at Kaku’s house, waiting to meet him before I go away to Bangalore. He is now older and I can spot the crow’s feet adjacent to his eyes. He sees me and exclaims, “How on earth did I lift you that day!”
Friday, November 9, 2007
Chak de Cricket
In a country where cricket is a religion, Shimit Amin’s Chak De India presents us with a story of redemption, team work and victory revolving around hockey- women’s hockey. Chak De breaks all clichés of Hindi cinema; it has skill and substance instead of skin and sizzle; it makes its viewers desperately all ears to every single dialogue instead of waiting for a particular scene or song; it is a Bollywood product with no lovey-dovey passionate act, and yet boasts of viewers coming out of the theatres smiling.
The movie is based on the true story of former captain of National Men’s hockey team, Mir Ranjan Negi, (Kabir Khan, played by Shah Rukh Khan) accused of match-fixing and was labeled a traitor after India lost to Pakistan in the 1982 World Champions Final. The captain, however, returns from a life of humiliation after seven years and revives the women’s hockey team as well as his honour from the depths of oblivion.
The only hurdle that Kabir Khan came face-to-face with was the team itself that was enmeshed in abundant ego tussle, senior-junior divide, veteran-novice classification, the stronger-weaker category, and the toughest part – no one was ready to budge. To add to it, the team was more regional in character than national. But Kabir was determined to bring them together and paint them INDIANS.
What happens after this is better seen than described. But what matters is how it all happened and it is this defining flavour that distinguishes the director as deserving. He has accomplished the hard task of not carrying the shades of his earlier film, Ab Tak Chappan, into this one and that too without any hiccups.
Complimenting Amin's act is Jaideep Sahni's script. He has not once diverted from the main theme–sports. The duo proved that a powerful storyline and a punching direction can create waves even if you don't have the dancing-around-the-trees act or the usual love-you-kiss-you-miss-you piece. The background score is excellent and not just adds life to the already lively screenplay but also makes your heart go THUMP. The narration is tight and the editing is slick. The cinematography is first-rate.
The only flaw with the movie is the larger than life situation when a team with initially no focus, no approach and the overwhelming urge to outshine each other, manages not only to stay in, but also win the world championship in just three months! But as regular viewers of Bollywood “creations” we can live with that. Plus the rest of movie well makes up for this.
And now to the performance. Shah Rukh Khan, who fell flat with his over the top acting in Kabhi Alvida Naa Kehna, makes a brilliant recovery in this movie. He keeps the attention of the viewers totally hooked with his intense performance. We must, however, not forget the debut performances of Chitrashi Rawat (Komal Chautala), Shilpa Shukla (Bindia Naik), Tanya Abrol (Balbir Kaur) and Sagarika Ghatge (Preeti Sabarwal), who were the lifeline of the film. Vidya Malavade (Vidya Sharma) has also sketched her role beautifully. The girls, well they are the face of the entire film. Each delivers their unique performance in style. They make you laugh, they make you giggle, they make you sit there and realise that they are out there to perform and would not goof it up for anything.
To cut a long story short, Chak De India rocks. So, go ahead, treat yourself to a Bollywood bonanza, which doesn't come everyday. And yes, don't be too surprised if after coming out, you get the thought, 'maybe one more time'. And for the onlookers of dance, skin, colour and romance, well it's a must watch. Perhaps it would help redefine the word 'entertainment'!
The movie is based on the true story of former captain of National Men’s hockey team, Mir Ranjan Negi, (Kabir Khan, played by Shah Rukh Khan) accused of match-fixing and was labeled a traitor after India lost to Pakistan in the 1982 World Champions Final. The captain, however, returns from a life of humiliation after seven years and revives the women’s hockey team as well as his honour from the depths of oblivion.
The only hurdle that Kabir Khan came face-to-face with was the team itself that was enmeshed in abundant ego tussle, senior-junior divide, veteran-novice classification, the stronger-weaker category, and the toughest part – no one was ready to budge. To add to it, the team was more regional in character than national. But Kabir was determined to bring them together and paint them INDIANS.
What happens after this is better seen than described. But what matters is how it all happened and it is this defining flavour that distinguishes the director as deserving. He has accomplished the hard task of not carrying the shades of his earlier film, Ab Tak Chappan, into this one and that too without any hiccups.
Complimenting Amin's act is Jaideep Sahni's script. He has not once diverted from the main theme–sports. The duo proved that a powerful storyline and a punching direction can create waves even if you don't have the dancing-around-the-trees act or the usual love-you-kiss-you-miss-you piece. The background score is excellent and not just adds life to the already lively screenplay but also makes your heart go THUMP. The narration is tight and the editing is slick. The cinematography is first-rate.
The only flaw with the movie is the larger than life situation when a team with initially no focus, no approach and the overwhelming urge to outshine each other, manages not only to stay in, but also win the world championship in just three months! But as regular viewers of Bollywood “creations” we can live with that. Plus the rest of movie well makes up for this.
And now to the performance. Shah Rukh Khan, who fell flat with his over the top acting in Kabhi Alvida Naa Kehna, makes a brilliant recovery in this movie. He keeps the attention of the viewers totally hooked with his intense performance. We must, however, not forget the debut performances of Chitrashi Rawat (Komal Chautala), Shilpa Shukla (Bindia Naik), Tanya Abrol (Balbir Kaur) and Sagarika Ghatge (Preeti Sabarwal), who were the lifeline of the film. Vidya Malavade (Vidya Sharma) has also sketched her role beautifully. The girls, well they are the face of the entire film. Each delivers their unique performance in style. They make you laugh, they make you giggle, they make you sit there and realise that they are out there to perform and would not goof it up for anything.
To cut a long story short, Chak De India rocks. So, go ahead, treat yourself to a Bollywood bonanza, which doesn't come everyday. And yes, don't be too surprised if after coming out, you get the thought, 'maybe one more time'. And for the onlookers of dance, skin, colour and romance, well it's a must watch. Perhaps it would help redefine the word 'entertainment'!
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