Up up and away to Chandni Chowk

Akshay Kumar after reportedly being attacked by bricks and bats by a bunch of haggard critics has come out to say in an interview, ‘I am not Superman,’ by which I think he means he would’ve willed all the bricks to fly in the opposite direction by mere eyesight and then fly away cape fluttering to the Great Wall of China.
Yes, almost all of China in Akshay’s Chandni Chowk seems to stretch from one end of the Great Wall to the other, and it also seems it’s perfectly alright to fall off it and survive; to throw chopsticks and kill people; to have mad double roles, coincidences and Asian Sky Shop products, including the amazing umbrella that’s bulletproof, stabproof and can fly. All in all…it’s completely mindless.
But since when did we Indians start complaining about mindless scripts? Our suspension of disbelief is in perfect condition when Sunny Deol uproots the tube-well to kill villains (Gadar), when Shah Rukh jumps off a tower and survives (Koyla) and of course, when Aamir Khan breaks chairs on his backs, slaps a deputy-of-a deputy-villain’s neck backwards, and kills 30 odd goons apparently within 15 mins (Ghajini).
The problem it seems then is when the message actually tells us to suspend disbelief, when we’re told beforehand to “leave your brains behind”. Shouldn’t have done that, Akshay…totally your faullt. It seems that offended the viewers – someone finally told them the close-guarded secret - most of what we watch has no sense and doesn’t require any brainpower…none, absolutely.
But hang on…the film’s done not so bad at the BO, but critics seem to be bashing it in unison. Did they then…oh, now we get it…it’s not us viewers, but you guys who got offended, who thought we were questioning your brains. So, here’s what I think you did (and Akshay might agree) – you didn’t heed the advice and brought your brains along, it obviously malfunctioned and then you wrote.
While you could digest Sanjay Singhania’s bizarre Ghulam-like office dressing (sleeves rolled up, mawalli style), to-be-doctor Jiah Khan’s (that’s already a laugh) pointless item number, and Aamir’s ability to remember to exercise every morning to kill the villain, you couldn’t accept a film that is, as the Hipposaur has said, “self-consciously” made.
The over-the-top humour, the v.v.v Bollywood judwaa behnein, bichhraa baap, and the fight sequences and cinematography done like a B-grade Chinese-to-Hollywood dub…are to me, very self-conscious. In fact, the hero fighting with a sickle and hammer, and the red tones (in case you don’t get it: think Communism) are quite brilliant.
The film does stretch and some portions aren’t all that entertaining, but the spoof is deliberate and the action sequences are as good as they get.
But SRK gets away poking fun at Bollywood because he’s SRK (I too liked OSO) and Aamir gets away with a mindless remade script because he’s Aamir…Akshay doesn’t, evidently, because he told-you-so beforehand.
Sorry Akki, you didn’t throw the right people off the wall before making the movie. And I gtg now, ‘cuz I see the zombie haggard critic looking for a brick.

You’ve been Stafl-ed!

“Stafalmandi, Stafalmandi…” the ring of the autowallah’s shout is something I can recall at will. I sometimes suspect it’ll stay with me forever.
Well, this ‘Stafalmandi,’ or Sitafalmandi, as it less-commonly, and more accurately known, has been my residence for the last year-and-I lost-count in Hyderabad. I moved here initially when I was doing a French course. That’s over, but you get the drift when I say ‘lost count.’
My office at Banjara Hills is a good 13-14 kms and Banjara Hills of course, looks like a different city to the lansdscape of Stafalmandi.
But, the station is close by and the train’s not all that bad, if you ignore the frequent delays and the crowd. But, that’s not the point of this post.
Every place has a landmark, right? Shyambazar in Calcutta has the Netaji statue, Panjagutta has Central, Lifestyle has well…Lifestyle, and so on. The most prominent structure on the ‘Stafalmandi’ main road is the road-over-bridge (ROB)…or what should have been an ROB already. Basically, it’s under construction…I hear it’s been under construction for 7 years! Yes, it’s “nearing completion” now, I hear, and the water dripping or shifting pits around it mean it may be operative in 6 months (I’m not guaranteeing that.)
Along with itself, this ROB has dragged a few other things into… limbo (in absence of a more-impressive jargon to illustrate my vocab). The lives of workers, for instance, who now form a settlement that looks like a post-civil war refugee camp. They live on the road and sleep on the sand dump, loose gravel mound, station parking lot and on vacant vegetable troikas. They’re mostly from Bengal, North 24 Parganas, going by the twist on the Bengali accent. And for all these 7 years or part thereof, they’ve lived here, cooking rice on the street and draining the starch into the drain right beside, sleeping on tarpaulin under the open sky, giving birth and having drunken brawls…all right here in ‘Stafalmandi.’
Besides, there are the half-broken shops and houses, unique of Hyderabad, wherever there’s a bridge being made or a road being expanded. There’s a curious front-porch of a house with a miniature temple that’s now been compromised for the bridge. Imagine…I actually walk through what was technically their house everyday now!
Localities like Sitafalmandi are, however, increasingly rare in Hyderabad. Narrow gallis, naughty urchins, poor lives and anna’s kiranas that still sell stuff for 50 paise – in limbo, without the polish the rest of this city has.
But I don’t seem to mind …even the sound of the autowallah’s confidently erroneous shout sounds like home now. Guess I’ve been Stafl-ed.