The great Anurag Kashyap's next venture will be a superhero movie. It will star Kunal Kapoor. And here is where it gets totally awesome -- it will be based on the violent Raj comic book series Doga, which I have had the pleasure of reading as a kid and blogging as a fan.
Link to news item
I am sure Kashyap's version will kick ass. He should be able to preserve the murky origins of the superhero and do justice to the gory and violent nature of his retributions.
All hail the great man!
Link -- Doga on Wikipedia
Friday, August 15, 2008
Friday, August 08, 2008
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
Confessions of an Addict: The God that Died
Warning: Long post.
<*Nanga Fakir stands on the podium looking very pensive. Lifts a glass of water and drinks up. Eyes his audience with a heavy heart*>
Nanga Fakir: In the last part, I had reached the point when the Russian Fever had arrested the then thirteen year old Nanga Fakir. Indeed, good sense demands that I continue with the story of his addiction and describe the events that followed after the The Idiot fell into the hands of our little hero. However, a recent development has made me change my mind.
<*Confused murmers from the audience*>
Nanga Fakir: I have received word that Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn died yesterday. So instead, I will talk about him today.
...
It was the vacations after high school. Nanga Fakir was in Gorakhpur with his brother who went by the name of Shashikar Bhaiya (who was every bit an addict as NF was, and perhaps more). The talk veered off to the books that the cousins were reading those days and very casually a new Russian name was slipped in by the older brother.
Little Nanga Fakir: Sol...zhe..ni...what???
Not so little Shashikar Bhaiya: Solzhenitsyn. The book is called The First Circle. You know, he's a pretty marvellous writer. Even though he is alive, his books are already considered classics.
Little Nanga Fakir: What's this book about?
Not so little Shashikar Bhaiya: Oh there is hardly any story. Its just political prisoners sitting together and talking. You know, very thought refining.
Been thus introduced to His Magisterial Awesomeness, Nanga Fakir put this book on the playlist isntantly.
Some years passed by. In the meantime, Nanga Fakir had decided to break out of his addiction and had awarded himself a voluntary exile from the Addiction Kingdom.
But then he had also befriended Somnath Pal, who (like the true Bong that he was) had access to the secret archival library of the Ramakrishna Math and who one arbit day announced that he had indeed located the Book.
<*A wry smile spreads across Nanga Fakir's face. He takes off his glasses (when the fuck did he start wearing them? Ah, the phony bastard!) and rubs his eyes unhurriedly, perhaps for dramatic effect*>
Nanga Fakir: You know a junkie never quits. He takes a break. And very soon, he had in his hands the tattered old copy of The First Circle. Within two days, he gorged this six hundred page tome and ecstatically went to his friends and sang songs about how awe-fucking-some the book was. Obviously, the friends didn't care shit about either the book or the author. They listened him out semi-patiently though and soon left baffled, the dismayed asshole who couldn't understand the tepid, don't-give-a-fuck attitude of fellow humans.
As revenge, he wished their private parts would melt away the night before the JEE exam.
Soon, the exams got over and NF decided to go book hunting with Somnath Pal and entered the famous portals of Ram Advani book depot in Hazratganj, Lucknow. Their talk about books and which one to read/buy was overheard by the old man who was in charge. Very soon, Mr Naseer was sufficiently impressed by the phony, third rate glib litgiri NF is so known for spewing out. They came out of the store with an overpriced Sons and Lovers and some books from Naseer's personal collection which included 1984, Animal Farm, One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich and some more.
One Day... was different from The First Circle in that it was more descriptive of the life led by zeks in Gulags.The First Circle was almost Science Fiction. Heavily philosophical, unwaveringly bleak and unapologetically dystopic, The First Circle was Russian literature at its gloomy best. And so was One Day... but the scope of the gloom was limited, for it covered only one day in the life of Ivan Denisovich.
With the aid of Somnath, soon Nanga Fakir acquired Cancer Ward and devoured it like a hungry dog. Still unsatisfied, he managed to locate the first volume of the author's most celebrated work -- The Gulag Archipelago in Blossoms, Bangalore during his third year in Surathkal.
Of all of Solzhenitsyn's books, this was the one that shook him most deeply. Heavily suffused with gallows humour, it is the most rigorous, intelligent, brilliantly researched and meticulous indictment of any historical regime ever in human history -- a task that seems impossibly great given the fact that innumerable roadblocks were cast in the path of the mathematician-turned-writer and that many a time, he was banned from using the archives (most of which were classified anyway). And this was just Volume 1! Despite his best efforts, Nanga Fakir has yet not been able to locate/read Volumes 2 and 3 of Gulag Archipelago.
Indeed he had blogged about The Gulag Archipelago (Volume 1) previously too. Those who really want to pay their tributes to the great man are advised to read the above link.
<*Overwhelmed, Nanga Fakir takes his phony glasses off. A tear (perhaps glycerine?) floats down his cheek*>
Nanga Fakir: Let's remain silent for two minutes in the memory of The God that Died yesterday.
<*Half a minute of an uncomfortable, enforced silence is broken by farts and the voices of children crying. NF becomes furious*>
Nanga Fakir: You all deserve to die assholes!
(Weak Voice): "It's you who is the asshole. You said you were going to talk about Solzhenitsyn. But you talked about yourself all the time. How YOU discovered him, how YOU liked him, how YOU became a fan, how YOU blogged about him some days ago. You miserable piece of shit, you deserve this."
<*Flings a leather boot towards the podium. Nanga Fakir sees it coming but is too lazy to move aside. The boot hits his nose and he is knocked out. Security men run to his aid and there is pandemonium in the auditorium*>
End of Part 2
Link: Solzhenitsyn dies on 3rd August 2008 (NY Times Obituary).
<*Nanga Fakir stands on the podium looking very pensive. Lifts a glass of water and drinks up. Eyes his audience with a heavy heart*>
Nanga Fakir: In the last part, I had reached the point when the Russian Fever had arrested the then thirteen year old Nanga Fakir. Indeed, good sense demands that I continue with the story of his addiction and describe the events that followed after the The Idiot fell into the hands of our little hero. However, a recent development has made me change my mind.
<*Confused murmers from the audience*>
Nanga Fakir: I have received word that Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn died yesterday. So instead, I will talk about him today.
...
It was the vacations after high school. Nanga Fakir was in Gorakhpur with his brother who went by the name of Shashikar Bhaiya (who was every bit an addict as NF was, and perhaps more). The talk veered off to the books that the cousins were reading those days and very casually a new Russian name was slipped in by the older brother.
Little Nanga Fakir: Sol...zhe..ni...what???
Not so little Shashikar Bhaiya: Solzhenitsyn. The book is called The First Circle. You know, he's a pretty marvellous writer. Even though he is alive, his books are already considered classics.
Little Nanga Fakir: What's this book about?
Not so little Shashikar Bhaiya: Oh there is hardly any story. Its just political prisoners sitting together and talking. You know, very thought refining.
Been thus introduced to His Magisterial Awesomeness, Nanga Fakir put this book on the playlist isntantly.
Some years passed by. In the meantime, Nanga Fakir had decided to break out of his addiction and had awarded himself a voluntary exile from the Addiction Kingdom.
But then he had also befriended Somnath Pal, who (like the true Bong that he was) had access to the secret archival library of the Ramakrishna Math and who one arbit day announced that he had indeed located the Book.
<*A wry smile spreads across Nanga Fakir's face. He takes off his glasses (when the fuck did he start wearing them? Ah, the phony bastard!) and rubs his eyes unhurriedly, perhaps for dramatic effect*>
Nanga Fakir: You know a junkie never quits. He takes a break. And very soon, he had in his hands the tattered old copy of The First Circle. Within two days, he gorged this six hundred page tome and ecstatically went to his friends and sang songs about how awe-fucking-some the book was. Obviously, the friends didn't care shit about either the book or the author. They listened him out semi-patiently though and soon left baffled, the dismayed asshole who couldn't understand the tepid, don't-give-a-fuck attitude of fellow humans.
As revenge, he wished their private parts would melt away the night before the JEE exam.
Soon, the exams got over and NF decided to go book hunting with Somnath Pal and entered the famous portals of Ram Advani book depot in Hazratganj, Lucknow. Their talk about books and which one to read/buy was overheard by the old man who was in charge. Very soon, Mr Naseer was sufficiently impressed by the phony, third rate glib litgiri NF is so known for spewing out. They came out of the store with an overpriced Sons and Lovers and some books from Naseer's personal collection which included 1984, Animal Farm, One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich and some more.
One Day... was different from The First Circle in that it was more descriptive of the life led by zeks in Gulags.The First Circle was almost Science Fiction. Heavily philosophical, unwaveringly bleak and unapologetically dystopic, The First Circle was Russian literature at its gloomy best. And so was One Day... but the scope of the gloom was limited, for it covered only one day in the life of Ivan Denisovich.
With the aid of Somnath, soon Nanga Fakir acquired Cancer Ward and devoured it like a hungry dog. Still unsatisfied, he managed to locate the first volume of the author's most celebrated work -- The Gulag Archipelago in Blossoms, Bangalore during his third year in Surathkal.
Of all of Solzhenitsyn's books, this was the one that shook him most deeply. Heavily suffused with gallows humour, it is the most rigorous, intelligent, brilliantly researched and meticulous indictment of any historical regime ever in human history -- a task that seems impossibly great given the fact that innumerable roadblocks were cast in the path of the mathematician-turned-writer and that many a time, he was banned from using the archives (most of which were classified anyway). And this was just Volume 1! Despite his best efforts, Nanga Fakir has yet not been able to locate/read Volumes 2 and 3 of Gulag Archipelago.
Indeed he had blogged about The Gulag Archipelago (Volume 1) previously too. Those who really want to pay their tributes to the great man are advised to read the above link.
<*Overwhelmed, Nanga Fakir takes his phony glasses off. A tear (perhaps glycerine?) floats down his cheek*>
Nanga Fakir: Let's remain silent for two minutes in the memory of The God that Died yesterday.
<*Half a minute of an uncomfortable, enforced silence is broken by farts and the voices of children crying. NF becomes furious*>
Nanga Fakir: You all deserve to die assholes!
(Weak Voice): "It's you who is the asshole. You said you were going to talk about Solzhenitsyn. But you talked about yourself all the time. How YOU discovered him, how YOU liked him, how YOU became a fan, how YOU blogged about him some days ago. You miserable piece of shit, you deserve this."
<*Flings a leather boot towards the podium. Nanga Fakir sees it coming but is too lazy to move aside. The boot hits his nose and he is knocked out. Security men run to his aid and there is pandemonium in the auditorium*>
End of Part 2
Link: Solzhenitsyn dies on 3rd August 2008 (NY Times Obituary).
Saturday, August 02, 2008
Confessions of an Addict: Buildup to The Russian Fever
WARNING: Long Post.
...
Nanga Fakir: Hello folks! I am Nanga Fakir.
"Hello Nanga Fakir".
Nanga Fakir: I am an addict.
(Weak voice) "Sure honey, go ahead".
Nanga Fakir: I guess it was innate. Something that I had been born with. Some affliction which seals your fate even before you're born. I have long suspected a genetic basis for many of the ailments that I suffer from -- pessimism, cynicism, depression, fondness for black humour and scatological jokes, boredom, nausea, laziness, aversion to pets etc. A new item has been added to the list. It is addiction.
<*glances nervously at the audience and smiles in confusion*>
<*the audience eyes him full of compassion, feigned perhaps*>
Nanga Fakir: This will not be an intelligent account. It will be an erratic recollection at best.
<*audience nods in encouragement*>
Nanga Fakir: Perhaps it started with comics. The cheap, sold-on-the-roadside stuff one could rent for a night. Many a day would pass while the infant NF would read about the adventures of Bankelal under the slanting rays of the sun, oblivious to all worries of the outside world.
The fascination continued. With Chandamama captivating him in its fantastic yarns of ancient empires, beautiful princesses, wicked sorcerers and powerful yogis, NF would get transported to parallel universes where he would commandeer armies and humble the most powerful by his wisdom and magic.
Then came the crucial discovery of the book that took his world by storm -- Chandrakanta. The masterful suspense, the ancient empires, the mazes and labyrinths, the tilisms, and the aiyyars made the normally quiet, introspective kid exclaim in hushed reverence -- "This is the greatest book that has ever been written."
He hunted for, and soon read the six parts of the Chandrakanta Santati series. And since the supply of comics/books dried up due to reason not remembered, he reread all the seven books of the series one after the other -- again and again and again.
His appetite grew by leaps and bounds. Reading books was all that he would do, drawn irresistibly to the yellowed pages and the smell of the moth eaten papers. He felt an almost carnal pleasure in watching the pages turn and the content reveal itself. He read without purpose, goals, plans, or ulterior motives. His addiction had begun then.
Come 8th standard and he gave his school library a not indifferent look. Lurking in the glass panelled shelves, he saw along with his friend who went by the name of Man, a collection of stories by Soviet writers. He came back promptly the next day to return the book and look for more. A book by the name of Mother caught his attention. "Ah, another Russian book!", he said to himself and got it issued.
This started what he now refers to as The Russian Fever. Very soon he had on his hands Anna Karenina which, although he did not understand in its entirety, hit him with a force that he had not thought possible.
By now, Nanga Fakir would read books simply because the cover jacket of the book would look sexy. The pubescent kid would get aroused in the wrong regions of his body due to the wrong reasons and he would not notice this till the time to remedy the situation was too far gone past.
And then it happened. During one of his rounds of the school library, he noticed a fat, white book squeezed between two fatter tomes. He decided to investigate.
The book smelled funny. It was written by a Russian guy with an unpronounceable name and the translation was by some female called Olga Shartse. The book was called "The Idiot (part one)". He decided to give it a try since the book cover was sexy, the smell was different and the writer was Russian.
He stood in line to get the book issued. The librarian looked at him wearily. She saw a frail, undersized kid holding a book that weighed heavier than him. "You're sure you want to get this issued?", she asked. "Yes ma'am", came the prompt answer. Slowly and methodically, all entries were made and signatures acquired. And at the end of it all, the book came into Nanga Fakir's possession.
End of Part 1
<*no longer nervous, Nanga Fakir ends his account with the audience clapping enthusiastically. he smiles confidently to all those present and is happy with his performance*>
(Weak Voice) "By all means, your account was fascinating and engrossing. But why do you talk in third person? At times it is irritating to hear you say 'Nanga Fakir felt this...' etc etc."
Nanga Fakir: Hey fuck you bitch!
...
Nanga Fakir: Hello folks! I am Nanga Fakir.
"Hello Nanga Fakir".
Nanga Fakir: I am an addict.
(Weak voice) "Sure honey, go ahead".
Nanga Fakir: I guess it was innate. Something that I had been born with. Some affliction which seals your fate even before you're born. I have long suspected a genetic basis for many of the ailments that I suffer from -- pessimism, cynicism, depression, fondness for black humour and scatological jokes, boredom, nausea, laziness, aversion to pets etc. A new item has been added to the list. It is addiction.
<*glances nervously at the audience and smiles in confusion*>
<*the audience eyes him full of compassion, feigned perhaps*>
Nanga Fakir: This will not be an intelligent account. It will be an erratic recollection at best.
<*audience nods in encouragement*>
Nanga Fakir: Perhaps it started with comics. The cheap, sold-on-the-roadside stuff one could rent for a night. Many a day would pass while the infant NF would read about the adventures of Bankelal under the slanting rays of the sun, oblivious to all worries of the outside world.
The fascination continued. With Chandamama captivating him in its fantastic yarns of ancient empires, beautiful princesses, wicked sorcerers and powerful yogis, NF would get transported to parallel universes where he would commandeer armies and humble the most powerful by his wisdom and magic.
Then came the crucial discovery of the book that took his world by storm -- Chandrakanta. The masterful suspense, the ancient empires, the mazes and labyrinths, the tilisms, and the aiyyars made the normally quiet, introspective kid exclaim in hushed reverence -- "This is the greatest book that has ever been written."
He hunted for, and soon read the six parts of the Chandrakanta Santati series. And since the supply of comics/books dried up due to reason not remembered, he reread all the seven books of the series one after the other -- again and again and again.
His appetite grew by leaps and bounds. Reading books was all that he would do, drawn irresistibly to the yellowed pages and the smell of the moth eaten papers. He felt an almost carnal pleasure in watching the pages turn and the content reveal itself. He read without purpose, goals, plans, or ulterior motives. His addiction had begun then.
Come 8th standard and he gave his school library a not indifferent look. Lurking in the glass panelled shelves, he saw along with his friend who went by the name of Man, a collection of stories by Soviet writers. He came back promptly the next day to return the book and look for more. A book by the name of Mother caught his attention. "Ah, another Russian book!", he said to himself and got it issued.
This started what he now refers to as The Russian Fever. Very soon he had on his hands Anna Karenina which, although he did not understand in its entirety, hit him with a force that he had not thought possible.
By now, Nanga Fakir would read books simply because the cover jacket of the book would look sexy. The pubescent kid would get aroused in the wrong regions of his body due to the wrong reasons and he would not notice this till the time to remedy the situation was too far gone past.
And then it happened. During one of his rounds of the school library, he noticed a fat, white book squeezed between two fatter tomes. He decided to investigate.
The book smelled funny. It was written by a Russian guy with an unpronounceable name and the translation was by some female called Olga Shartse. The book was called "The Idiot (part one)". He decided to give it a try since the book cover was sexy, the smell was different and the writer was Russian.
He stood in line to get the book issued. The librarian looked at him wearily. She saw a frail, undersized kid holding a book that weighed heavier than him. "You're sure you want to get this issued?", she asked. "Yes ma'am", came the prompt answer. Slowly and methodically, all entries were made and signatures acquired. And at the end of it all, the book came into Nanga Fakir's possession.
End of Part 1
<*no longer nervous, Nanga Fakir ends his account with the audience clapping enthusiastically. he smiles confidently to all those present and is happy with his performance*>
(Weak Voice) "By all means, your account was fascinating and engrossing. But why do you talk in third person? At times it is irritating to hear you say 'Nanga Fakir felt this...' etc etc."
Nanga Fakir: Hey fuck you bitch!
Friday, July 18, 2008
Why so Serious?
Sonu and I caught up with the premiere show of The Dark Knight at the East End Mall today. First day, first show, first to be seated in the hall. And what a dazzling two and a half hour blast!
Go see it...now.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
The Fag End
Finished a couple of more books -- Survivor and Diary (both by Chuck Palahniuk). Survivor is awesome; very nearly as good as Fight Club, while Diary is the weakest of the four books the writer's written despite it having one of the most awesome first five pages of a fiction book I have had a chance of reading.
Currently on the book playlist are The Extended Phenotype and Godel, Escher, Bach both of which will probably keep me occupied for a long time to come.
Currently on the book playlist are The Extended Phenotype and Godel, Escher, Bach both of which will probably keep me occupied for a long time to come.
Thursday, July 03, 2008
Monday, June 30, 2008
Books read in the Summers
1) The Three Mistakes of My Life -- Chetan Bhagat
Bad literature. Written in the same spirit as I used to write my engineering assignments.
2) Choke -- Chuck Palahniuk
Nice. Caustic, bitter, funny. Typical bone dry prose. But not even close to Fight Club.
3) Netochka Nezvanova -- Fyodor Dostoyevsky
Netochka Nezvanova is a female name meaning "Nameless Nobody" (sort of an Indian analogue of "Anamika"). This one's an incomplete book that Dostoyevsky attempted to write before he was sent off to Siberia. Hardly his best, but you get to see his obsessions developing post-infancy.
4) Kari -- Amruta Patil
This one was finished sitting in Andheri's Landmark in an hour or so. The female in question is an Indian who's written this story set in Mumbai about a lesbian female called Kari. Pretty good for a debut, this graphic novel is recommended to anybody who has a spare hour in a bookshop.
5) कुरु कुरु स्वाहा -- मनोहर श्याम जोशी
Mercilessly self-deprecatory, savagely funny, remorselessly irreverent, bitterly scathing, unapologetically cynical and employing a remarkably brilliant experimentation in narrative structure, this book was easily one of the greatest I've read in a long time.
What attracted me from the very outset was the blurb description of the author ("...laziness and self doubt have always prevented him from publishing his works"). Although the cult status of this book was never in question, whether or not I will join the cult was the question which has since been resolved most emphatically.
Although highly recommended, non native Hindi readers will encounter huge difficulties with the book on account of its heavy use of Hindi slang interspersed with a good dose of highbrow litgiri.
What a book!!!
6) The Argumentative Indian -- Amartya Sen
Excellent work by one of the best in the business. Highly recommended to anyone even remotely interested in modern India/Indian history.
7) मेरी प्रिय कहानियां -- अज्ञेय
Finished during the long 19 hour nothingness that goes by the name of a Waiting Room in Jhansi. Not great. Agyeya was a far better novelist and poet than a short story writer.
8) उमरावनगर में कुछ दिन -- श्रीलाल शुक्ला
Three stories written in the same spirit as his masterpiece Raag Darbari. Satire and caustic wit to Shrilal Shukla is what hollering and random enemy slaying is to Sunny Deol.
Next on the playlist are:
A) Survivor -- Chuck Palahniuk
B) Stand on Zanzibar -- John Brunner
C) Diary -- Chuck Palahniuk.
Bad literature. Written in the same spirit as I used to write my engineering assignments.
2) Choke -- Chuck Palahniuk
Nice. Caustic, bitter, funny. Typical bone dry prose. But not even close to Fight Club.
3) Netochka Nezvanova -- Fyodor Dostoyevsky
Netochka Nezvanova is a female name meaning "Nameless Nobody" (sort of an Indian analogue of "Anamika"). This one's an incomplete book that Dostoyevsky attempted to write before he was sent off to Siberia. Hardly his best, but you get to see his obsessions developing post-infancy.
4) Kari -- Amruta Patil
This one was finished sitting in Andheri's Landmark in an hour or so. The female in question is an Indian who's written this story set in Mumbai about a lesbian female called Kari. Pretty good for a debut, this graphic novel is recommended to anybody who has a spare hour in a bookshop.
5) कुरु कुरु स्वाहा -- मनोहर श्याम जोशी
Mercilessly self-deprecatory, savagely funny, remorselessly irreverent, bitterly scathing, unapologetically cynical and employing a remarkably brilliant experimentation in narrative structure, this book was easily one of the greatest I've read in a long time.
What attracted me from the very outset was the blurb description of the author ("...laziness and self doubt have always prevented him from publishing his works"). Although the cult status of this book was never in question, whether or not I will join the cult was the question which has since been resolved most emphatically.
Although highly recommended, non native Hindi readers will encounter huge difficulties with the book on account of its heavy use of Hindi slang interspersed with a good dose of highbrow litgiri.
What a book!!!
6) The Argumentative Indian -- Amartya Sen
Excellent work by one of the best in the business. Highly recommended to anyone even remotely interested in modern India/Indian history.
7) मेरी प्रिय कहानियां -- अज्ञेय
Finished during the long 19 hour nothingness that goes by the name of a Waiting Room in Jhansi. Not great. Agyeya was a far better novelist and poet than a short story writer.
8) उमरावनगर में कुछ दिन -- श्रीलाल शुक्ला
Three stories written in the same spirit as his masterpiece Raag Darbari. Satire and caustic wit to Shrilal Shukla is what hollering and random enemy slaying is to Sunny Deol.
Next on the playlist are:
A) Survivor -- Chuck Palahniuk
B) Stand on Zanzibar -- John Brunner
C) Diary -- Chuck Palahniuk.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
More books
Some more books've been bought during my trip to Mumbai-Bangalore. Two of them from Somnath on account of his having lost a couple of bets some time ago and one gifted by my sister in Mumbai. They are:
1) Godel, Escher Bach : an Eternal Golden Braid by Douglas Hofstadter (courtesy Somnath),
2) Survivor by Chuck Palanhiuk (courtesy Somnath)
3) The Argumentative Indian by Amartya Sen (courtesy Didi).
Currently I'm having an nice time here in Bangalore meeting up old friends and seeing their shocked expressions (they had assumed I'd died a while ago).
Seems like an awesome summer...
1) Godel, Escher Bach : an Eternal Golden Braid by Douglas Hofstadter (courtesy Somnath),
2) Survivor by Chuck Palanhiuk (courtesy Somnath)
3) The Argumentative Indian by Amartya Sen (courtesy Didi).
Currently I'm having an nice time here in Bangalore meeting up old friends and seeing their shocked expressions (they had assumed I'd died a while ago).
Seems like an awesome summer...
Monday, June 16, 2008
Latest
Having nothing to do at home forced me into reading The three mistakes of my life -- the latest offering by Chetan Bhagat. I proceeded to correct the situation the very next day and bought shitloads of books to help me pass time. I also made Sheri and Sonu buy those books which I have had in mind to read but were getting too expensive for my shoestring budget. The list is the following:
1) Choke -- Chuck Palahniuk
2) The Idiot -- Fyodor Dostoyevsky
3) Netochka Nezvanova -- Fyodor Dostoyevsky
4) मेरी प्रिय कहानियाँ -- अज्ञेय
5) कुरु कुरु स्वाहा... -- मनोहर श्याम जोशी
The Idiot because my collection of Dostoyevsky lacked this. Netochka Nezvanova because Dostoyevsky pulled a fast one on me and I found that there exists a fiction book he wrote that I had not read (yet again!).
I made Sonu buy The Stand on Zanzibar by John Brunner and Sheri bought American Gods by Neil Gaiman and Diary by Chuck Palahniuk.
Finally, seems like an interesting summer.
1) Choke -- Chuck Palahniuk
2) The Idiot -- Fyodor Dostoyevsky
3) Netochka Nezvanova -- Fyodor Dostoyevsky
4) मेरी प्रिय कहानियाँ -- अज्ञेय
5) कुरु कुरु स्वाहा... -- मनोहर श्याम जोशी
The Idiot because my collection of Dostoyevsky lacked this. Netochka Nezvanova because Dostoyevsky pulled a fast one on me and I found that there exists a fiction book he wrote that I had not read (yet again!).
I made Sonu buy The Stand on Zanzibar by John Brunner and Sheri bought American Gods by Neil Gaiman and Diary by Chuck Palahniuk.
Finally, seems like an interesting summer.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Saturday, June 07, 2008
This post has no title
Among the first things I am going to do in Lucknow is watch Sarkaar Raj. This will be followed shortly by viewings of Aamir, Speed Racer and Hellboy II: The Golden Army.
Sarkar Raj, because obviously it's a RGV film; Aamir because it is made by Rajkumar Gupta -- a protegé of Anurag Kashyap (he is the producer of this film); Speed Racer because it is written and directed by the Wachowski Brothers and is based on a cartoon series I used to follow on Cartoon Network a long time ago, and Hellboy II because it is made by the awesome Guillermo del Toro - the man who made El Laberinto del Fauno (Pan's Labyrinth).
Sarkar Raj, because obviously it's a RGV film; Aamir because it is made by Rajkumar Gupta -- a protegé of Anurag Kashyap (he is the producer of this film); Speed Racer because it is written and directed by the Wachowski Brothers and is based on a cartoon series I used to follow on Cartoon Network a long time ago, and Hellboy II because it is made by the awesome Guillermo del Toro - the man who made El Laberinto del Fauno (Pan's Labyrinth).
Monday, June 02, 2008
Life Cycle of a Household Insect
(Read from Top to Bottom)
1)
Sleep ---->
Dreams ---->
Goals ---->
Plans ---->
Fight ---->
Failure/Give-Up ---->
Depression ---->
Philosophy ---->
Depression ---->
Philosophy ---->
Depression ---->
Sleep.
2)
Sleep ---->
No-Dream ---->
Boredom ---->
Depression ---->
Philosophy ---->
Depression ---->
Philosophy ---->
Depression ---->
Philosophy ---->
Depression ---->
Sleep.
1)
Sleep ---->
Dreams ---->
Goals ---->
Plans ---->
Fight ---->
Failure/Give-Up ---->
Depression ---->
Philosophy ---->
Depression ---->
Philosophy ---->
Depression ---->
Sleep.
2)
Sleep ---->
No-Dream ---->
Boredom ---->
Depression ---->
Philosophy ---->
Depression ---->
Philosophy ---->
Depression ---->
Philosophy ---->
Depression ---->
Sleep.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
GB beckons...
My obsessive Wikipedia browsing, every now and then, yields many a gem of an entry. This one's about Old Monk. I'll quote the entire thing for the benefit of posterity lest some vandal should make his mind to destroy the same.
Link
Old Monk is a vatted Indian Rum, blended and aged for 7 years (though there is also more expensive, 12 year old version). It is dark, with an alcohol content of 42.8%. It is produced by Mohan Meakin, based in Mohan Nagar, Ghaziabad, Uttar Pradesh.
It is one of the most favoured flavours of rum not only in India, but across the world.
It is drunk by the best among the connoisseurs of alcohol in India(data from various sources). It is supposed to be the brand of rum suited for all seasons.
The logo of 'Old Monk' reminds its customers of the all encompassing smile of a quintessential drunkard who knows where the others are headed for.
It is available in all parts of India.
It is sold in four size variants 180ml (quarter), 350ml (half), 750ml (commonly referred to as a "full bottle"), and a 1 liter bottle.
Link
आगाज़
लोग अक्सर उस से पूछा करते थे कि "विजय ही क्यूं? नाम तो और भी कई हो सकते थे?" वो मुस्कुरा भर देता था और कोई घटिया सा बहाना बना के पीछा छुड़ा लिया करता था. ट्रेड सीक्रेट यूँ ही सभी को नहीं बता दिया जाता.
...
वेनेशियन ब्लाइंड्स से छनती हुई कमज़ोर, तिरछी, पीली धूप की किरणें हमारे हीरो के चेहरे पर पड़ रही थीं. उसके हाथ में अपने पसंदीदा राइटर कि लेटेस्ट किताब थी जो कल ही उसने खरीदी थी. पर इस समय उसका ध्यान किताब और उसके पेचीदा प्लॉट पर नहीं था. वो तो किसी और ही उधेढ़-बुन में लगा था.
"मैंने बहुत दुनिया देखी है", ऐसा वो अक्सर कहा करता था, और मेरी मानिये तो कुछ ग़लत नहीं कहता था. उन तमाम सवालों के जवाब, जिन्हें फिलोसफर सोचते सोचते ख़ाक हो गए, हमारे नायक के पास मौजूद थे. अपने काम के सिलसिले में उसने आदमी और उसके स्वभाव के बारे में जिस गहराई से सोचा था, वो फिलोसफरों की पहुँच के बाहर था. जिन परिस्थितियों में उसने आदमियों पर अपने सिद्धांतों की जांच की थी, वो वैज्ञानिकों के परे था.
दरवाज़े के स्पीकर से निकली आवाज़ ने उसकी सोच में विघ्न डाला. "कम इन", उसके मुंह से निकला, और दरवाज़ा खुल गया.
कमरे में एक लड़की खड़ी थी जो बड़े गौर से अपने सामने बैठे आदमी की ओर देख रही थी...
एक पल के लिए उस आदमी की आँखों में चमक आई और एक तिरछी सी मुस्कान उसके चेहरे पर फ़ैल गई. उसने अलसाये हुए तरीके से अपनी कुर्सी लड़की की तरफ़ घुमाई और बैठे बैठे अपना हाथ उसकी तरफ़ बढाते हुए बोला, "कौल मी विजय...जासूस विजय."
...
वेनेशियन ब्लाइंड्स से छनती हुई कमज़ोर, तिरछी, पीली धूप की किरणें हमारे हीरो के चेहरे पर पड़ रही थीं. उसके हाथ में अपने पसंदीदा राइटर कि लेटेस्ट किताब थी जो कल ही उसने खरीदी थी. पर इस समय उसका ध्यान किताब और उसके पेचीदा प्लॉट पर नहीं था. वो तो किसी और ही उधेढ़-बुन में लगा था.
"मैंने बहुत दुनिया देखी है", ऐसा वो अक्सर कहा करता था, और मेरी मानिये तो कुछ ग़लत नहीं कहता था. उन तमाम सवालों के जवाब, जिन्हें फिलोसफर सोचते सोचते ख़ाक हो गए, हमारे नायक के पास मौजूद थे. अपने काम के सिलसिले में उसने आदमी और उसके स्वभाव के बारे में जिस गहराई से सोचा था, वो फिलोसफरों की पहुँच के बाहर था. जिन परिस्थितियों में उसने आदमियों पर अपने सिद्धांतों की जांच की थी, वो वैज्ञानिकों के परे था.
दरवाज़े के स्पीकर से निकली आवाज़ ने उसकी सोच में विघ्न डाला. "कम इन", उसके मुंह से निकला, और दरवाज़ा खुल गया.
कमरे में एक लड़की खड़ी थी जो बड़े गौर से अपने सामने बैठे आदमी की ओर देख रही थी...
एक पल के लिए उस आदमी की आँखों में चमक आई और एक तिरछी सी मुस्कान उसके चेहरे पर फ़ैल गई. उसने अलसाये हुए तरीके से अपनी कुर्सी लड़की की तरफ़ घुमाई और बैठे बैठे अपना हाथ उसकी तरफ़ बढाते हुए बोला, "कौल मी विजय...जासूस विजय."
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Project Pulp Fiction
During the course of commenting on my last post titled "One, Two, Three Mike Testing", my sister pointed out how good a natural (photo?)copier I was and how the post reminded her of Nirmal Verma's writing style. While flattered, I vehemently deny this particular observation while agreeing with the overall allegation of being a shameless imitator. SatyaVrat was also quick to remark how hard the post sucked and how ignorant I was in making the errors that he alleged I did make.
The last post was meant to be a guinea pig. That it turned out more pig than guinea was just the way the world works. That guinea pigs are not pigs and have no connection to The Republic of Guinea is also just the way the world works.
But very consciously, I had started out to recreate (in Hindi) the broke-cynical-Raskolnikov that Dostoyevsky had described in his Crime and Punishment and given him Holden Caulfield's voice. Set this guy up in a dystopic SF in a future Lucknow engulfed by smog and snow, add a touch of black humour of the kind found in the pages of The Gulag Archipelago and I would've given myself the biggest self inflicted orgasm theoretically possible.
This is all imitation and I would want it to be a homage to the great masters (mostly Russian and Hindi) that I have had the pleasure of reading. However, Nirmal Verma will never figure in this list of people whom I give 'tribute' to (read imitate), simply because I think that writing the way he did is beyond even a super-enhanced-mega-ass-kicking-Cyborg Nanga Fakir high on drugs.
More achievable is the Raskolnikov-Holden Caulfield meets Neuromancer project I outlined above but that is also ultra non trivial and so the chances are that I will never attempt it.
I remember Sahil (henceforth referred to as Chief), making fun of the legendary Donny Alex (did I get the spelling right?) for harbouring literary aspirations. Donny had become a sort of a common inside joke we Wagoners kept coming back to -- both in our conversations and in the NewsWagon issues we came out with. We did this not because we hated people who harbour literary ambitions (indeed, we were all philosopher-writers ourselves and had women swooning all over us in a parallel universe), but because all of us, down to the last man felt, in a really deep way, how such posturing tries to trivialise something that is so fundamentally non trivial. This was one of our reasons for being skeptical of lit wannabes. For some of us, this skepticism manifested as hatred and disgust for lit imposters. But that, however, is a different story altogether.
What however I can do well is writing pulp fiction in Hindi (if it turns out that I suck at that too, then I will probably remain mentally scarred for the rest of my life) of the kind sold at bus stations and train stations featuring stories where world weary film noirish detectives save the day and end up fucking a lot of hot chicks. I even have a name for my hero -- Jasoos Vijay who introduces himself as "My name is Vijay...Jasoos Vijay". Who knows, perhaps Ghongha Basant will make a surprise entry in the Jasoos Vijay universe.
However, much to Subbu's disappointment, the series will be in Hindi and will be sold on train stations in the Hindi speaking heartlands of India. I will have huge fan following in places like Ajamgadh, Basti, Gonda, Devaria and the planet Tau Tau where I will be awarded the Order of Tau Tau Empire First Class.
God don't let me suck at this thing...please!
The last post was meant to be a guinea pig. That it turned out more pig than guinea was just the way the world works. That guinea pigs are not pigs and have no connection to The Republic of Guinea is also just the way the world works.
But very consciously, I had started out to recreate (in Hindi) the broke-cynical-Raskolnikov that Dostoyevsky had described in his Crime and Punishment and given him Holden Caulfield's voice. Set this guy up in a dystopic SF in a future Lucknow engulfed by smog and snow, add a touch of black humour of the kind found in the pages of The Gulag Archipelago and I would've given myself the biggest self inflicted orgasm theoretically possible.
This is all imitation and I would want it to be a homage to the great masters (mostly Russian and Hindi) that I have had the pleasure of reading. However, Nirmal Verma will never figure in this list of people whom I give 'tribute' to (read imitate), simply because I think that writing the way he did is beyond even a super-enhanced-mega-ass-kicking-Cyborg Nanga Fakir high on drugs.
More achievable is the Raskolnikov-Holden Caulfield meets Neuromancer project I outlined above but that is also ultra non trivial and so the chances are that I will never attempt it.
I remember Sahil (henceforth referred to as Chief), making fun of the legendary Donny Alex (did I get the spelling right?) for harbouring literary aspirations. Donny had become a sort of a common inside joke we Wagoners kept coming back to -- both in our conversations and in the NewsWagon issues we came out with. We did this not because we hated people who harbour literary ambitions (indeed, we were all philosopher-writers ourselves and had women swooning all over us in a parallel universe), but because all of us, down to the last man felt, in a really deep way, how such posturing tries to trivialise something that is so fundamentally non trivial. This was one of our reasons for being skeptical of lit wannabes. For some of us, this skepticism manifested as hatred and disgust for lit imposters. But that, however, is a different story altogether.
What however I can do well is writing pulp fiction in Hindi (if it turns out that I suck at that too, then I will probably remain mentally scarred for the rest of my life) of the kind sold at bus stations and train stations featuring stories where world weary film noirish detectives save the day and end up fucking a lot of hot chicks. I even have a name for my hero -- Jasoos Vijay who introduces himself as "My name is Vijay...Jasoos Vijay". Who knows, perhaps Ghongha Basant will make a surprise entry in the Jasoos Vijay universe.
However, much to Subbu's disappointment, the series will be in Hindi and will be sold on train stations in the Hindi speaking heartlands of India. I will have huge fan following in places like Ajamgadh, Basti, Gonda, Devaria and the planet Tau Tau where I will be awarded the Order of Tau Tau Empire First Class.
God don't let me suck at this thing...please!
Monday, May 12, 2008
वन टू थ्री माइक टेस्टिंग
( एक सवाल जो पूछा जा सकता है, वो यह है कि ये जो मैं लिख रहा हूँ, सो क्यों लिख रहा हूँ? तो अच्छा सवाल है, पर जवाब नहीं मिलेगा -- कम से कम फिलहाल नहीं. )
कुछ दिन पहले तक मैं यूनिवर्सिटी में पढ़ा करता था. पढ़ा क्या करता था, यूं कहिये कि पढ़ने कि कोशिश किया करता था. खैर...फेल हो गया, निकाल दिया गया. एक किस्सा था, सो ख़त्म हुआ.
...
बाहर बर्फ गिर रही है. ठंड ऐसी कि पूछिये मत और आखरी वजीफा था, वो किराये में चुक गया.
नहाये हुए अरसा हो गया, दाढ़ी बढ़ गई है, शरीर से बदबू आ रही है और न जाने क्या क्या? लेकिन ये सब फिलहाल मेरे दिमाग में नहीं हैं. लिख तो बस इसलिए दे रहा हूँ कि किताबें जो लिखी जाती हैं उनमे यह सब लिखो, तो क्रिटिक जन तारीफ करते हैं, कहते हैं "बड़ी रिअलिस्टिक कहानी है. लौंडे में दम है". और जब हम ठान ही चुके हैं कि इस साल कि बेस्ट कहानी हम लिखेंगे, तो लाज़मी है कि क्रिटिक्स को खुश रखा जाए.
तो जैसा कि मैं कह रहा था, यह सब मेरे दिमाग में नहीं चल रहा है......तो फिर क्या चल रहा है? तो जनाब अधीर न हों, बताते हैं...
मधूलिका आई थी आज यहाँ. उसे देखे हुए काफी वक्त हो चला था. मुझे मालूम होता कि वो आने वाली है तो चुप्पे से सटक लिया होता मैं.
कुछ पैसे दे गई मुझे...कह रही थी कि रूम का किराया चुका दूँ पुराना. (मेरी मकान मालकिन मेरे बारे में चुगली करती है! छोडूँगा नहीं साली को. वैसे ही कुछ कम बेइज्ज़ती हुई है मेरी जो अब औरों से पैसे मांगता फिरूं?) वैसे बड़े दिनों बाद कुछ अच्छा खाने को नसीब हुआ. हाल इतने खस्ता चल रहे हैं कि मना करने की हिम्मत भी नहीं हुई और मुझे ऐसे भूखों की तरह खाता हुआ देख के वो रोने लगी, सो अलग. मुझे ज़रा भी अच्छा नहीं लगा. लेकिन मैंने नाटक किया कि मैंने नोटिस नहीं किया और खाता रहा. कसम से, मालूम होता मधु आएगी तो सटक लिया होता मैं...
...
Test successful...
Begin blogging in Hindi...
End.
कुछ दिन पहले तक मैं यूनिवर्सिटी में पढ़ा करता था. पढ़ा क्या करता था, यूं कहिये कि पढ़ने कि कोशिश किया करता था. खैर...फेल हो गया, निकाल दिया गया. एक किस्सा था, सो ख़त्म हुआ.
...
बाहर बर्फ गिर रही है. ठंड ऐसी कि पूछिये मत और आखरी वजीफा था, वो किराये में चुक गया.
नहाये हुए अरसा हो गया, दाढ़ी बढ़ गई है, शरीर से बदबू आ रही है और न जाने क्या क्या? लेकिन ये सब फिलहाल मेरे दिमाग में नहीं हैं. लिख तो बस इसलिए दे रहा हूँ कि किताबें जो लिखी जाती हैं उनमे यह सब लिखो, तो क्रिटिक जन तारीफ करते हैं, कहते हैं "बड़ी रिअलिस्टिक कहानी है. लौंडे में दम है". और जब हम ठान ही चुके हैं कि इस साल कि बेस्ट कहानी हम लिखेंगे, तो लाज़मी है कि क्रिटिक्स को खुश रखा जाए.
तो जैसा कि मैं कह रहा था, यह सब मेरे दिमाग में नहीं चल रहा है......तो फिर क्या चल रहा है? तो जनाब अधीर न हों, बताते हैं...
मधूलिका आई थी आज यहाँ. उसे देखे हुए काफी वक्त हो चला था. मुझे मालूम होता कि वो आने वाली है तो चुप्पे से सटक लिया होता मैं.
कुछ पैसे दे गई मुझे...कह रही थी कि रूम का किराया चुका दूँ पुराना. (मेरी मकान मालकिन मेरे बारे में चुगली करती है! छोडूँगा नहीं साली को. वैसे ही कुछ कम बेइज्ज़ती हुई है मेरी जो अब औरों से पैसे मांगता फिरूं?) वैसे बड़े दिनों बाद कुछ अच्छा खाने को नसीब हुआ. हाल इतने खस्ता चल रहे हैं कि मना करने की हिम्मत भी नहीं हुई और मुझे ऐसे भूखों की तरह खाता हुआ देख के वो रोने लगी, सो अलग. मुझे ज़रा भी अच्छा नहीं लगा. लेकिन मैंने नाटक किया कि मैंने नोटिस नहीं किया और खाता रहा. कसम से, मालूम होता मधु आएगी तो सटक लिया होता मैं...
...
Test successful...
Begin blogging in Hindi...
End.
Wednesday, May 07, 2008
Oh Me!
I was discussing with my brother, the possible names for my niece who's about to be born (the expected date of birth coincides with mine!). The talk was focussed on the home name and it was suggested by my brother that the home name be Omee.
Nanga Fakir: (after some thinking) That would be so goddamn awesome!
Brother: (slightly puzzled) I know its a good name...but awesome? Why?
Nanga Fakir: Well for one, Ajay Devgan, in the movie Omkara was referred to as Omee Bhaiyya by his followers.
Brother: Ha ha...I see your point.
Nanga Fakir: That's hardly all of it. In the iconic MTV Unplugged Live in New York, just before it all ended, Nirvana played the best song of the album called Oh Me, a homophone of the name Omee. This name will be our humble tribute to the memory of Kurt Cobain!
Brother: Whoa...dude.
...
The omens couldn't be better. A child born on the same day as me and a name which pays tribute to Omkara and Kurt Cobain! Niece...let the spirit of Grunge be with you!
PS: I know the original was by the Meat Puppets and Nirvana did a cover. But that doesn't make the song any less awesome!
Nanga Fakir: (after some thinking) That would be so goddamn awesome!
Brother: (slightly puzzled) I know its a good name...but awesome? Why?
Nanga Fakir: Well for one, Ajay Devgan, in the movie Omkara was referred to as Omee Bhaiyya by his followers.
Brother: Ha ha...I see your point.
Nanga Fakir: That's hardly all of it. In the iconic MTV Unplugged Live in New York, just before it all ended, Nirvana played the best song of the album called Oh Me, a homophone of the name Omee. This name will be our humble tribute to the memory of Kurt Cobain!
Brother: Whoa...dude.
...
The omens couldn't be better. A child born on the same day as me and a name which pays tribute to Omkara and Kurt Cobain! Niece...let the spirit of Grunge be with you!
PS: I know the original was by the Meat Puppets and Nirvana did a cover. But that doesn't make the song any less awesome!
Saturday, May 03, 2008
My Favourite Pictures
Beyond AA
1) Jaane Bhi Do Yaaron (Kundan Shah)
2) Anand (Hrishikesh Mukherjee)
3) Before Sunset (Richard Linklater)
4) Shawshank Redemption (Frank Darabont)
5) Forrest Gump (Robert Zemeckis)
6) Requiem for a Dream (Darren Aronofsky)
7) Good Will Hunting (Gus Van Sant)
8) Memento (Christopher Nolan)
9) Boys Don’t Cry (Kimberley Peirce)
10) Schindler’s List (Steven Spielberg)
11) Waking Life (Richard Linklater)
12) Cidade de Deus (Fernando Mereilles)
13) Trois Colouers Rouge (Kriestof Kizelowsky)
14) Fight Club (David Fincher)
15) No Smoking (Anurag Kashyap)
16) Visitor Q (Takashi Miike)
17) 3-Iron (Kim ki Duk)
18) Stalker (Andrei Tarkovsky)
19) 2001: A Space Odyssey (Stanley Kubrick)
20) Pulp Fiction (Quentin Tarantino)
21) 2046 (Wang kar Wai)
22) Dil Se (Mani Ratnam)
23) Siddheshwari (Mani Kaul)
24) Kramashah (Amit Dutta)
25) Under the Skin (Jonathan Glazer)
26) Court (Chaitanya Tamhane)
27) Whiplash ()
Also
1) Pyasa (Guru Dutt)
2) Satya (Ram Gopal Varma)
3) The Others (Alejandro Amenábar)
4) Golmaal (Hrishikesh Mukherjee)
5) Dil Chahta Hai (Farhan Akhtar)
6) The Pianist (Roman Polanski)
7) Gandhi (Richard Attenborough)
8) As Good As it Gets (James L Brooks)
9) Saving Private Ryan (Steven Spielberg)
10) Platoon (Oliver Stone)
11) Reservoir Dogs (Quentin Tarantino)
12) Muhafiz (Ismail Merchant)
13) Salaam Bombay (Meera Nayar)
14) Maqbool (Vishal Bharadwaj)
15) Andaaz Apna Apna (Rajkumar Santoshi)
16) Guide (Vijay Anand)
17) Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (Michel Gondry)
18) Dead Poet's Society (Peter Weir)
19) Life is Beautiful (Roberto Benigni)
20) Philadelphia (Jonathan Demme)
21) The Maltese Falcon (John Huston)
22) Matrix Trilogy (Wachowsky Brothers)
23) Black (Sanjay Leela Bhansali)
24) The Machinist (Brad Anderson)
25) Anaadi (Hrishikesh Mukherjee)
26) Persona (Ingmar Bergman)
27) Omkara (Vishal Bharadwaj)
28) Black Friday (Anurag Kashyap)
29) Sholay (Ramesh Sippy)
30) Lagaan (Ashutosh Gowarikar)
31) 8 1/2 (Federico Fellini)
32) Apu Trilogy (Satyajit Ray)
33) Network (Sidney Lumet)
34) Monsoon Wedding (Mira Nair)
35) The Departed (Martin Scorsese)
36) Ed Wood (Tim Burton)
37) Amores Perros (Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu)
38) Kung Fu Hustle (Stephen Chow)
39) Cinema Paradiso (Giuseppe Tornatore)
40) The Lord of the Rings Trilogy (Peter Jackson)
41) The Blairwitch Project (Daniel Myrick & Eduardo Sánchez)
42) Shutter (Banjong Pisanthanakun & Parkpoom Wongpoom)
43) El Laberinto del Fauno (Guillermo del Toro)
44) Vengeance Trilogy (Park Chan-wook)
45) Annie Hall (Woody Allen)
46) La Haine (Mathieu Kassovitz)
47) Chinatown (Roman Polanski)
48) Irreversible (Gaspar Noe)
49) September (Woody Allen)
50) A Streetcar Named Desire (Elia Kazan)
51) Boogie Nights (Paul Thomas Anderson)
52) Stardust Memories (Woody Allen)
53) Unbreakable (Manoj Night Shyamalan)
54) Cloverfield (Matt Reeves)
55) The Dark Knight (Christopher Nolan)
56) Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter... and Spring (Kim Ki-duk)
57) Half Ticket (Kalidas)
58) Happiness (Todd Solondz)
59) Gozu (Takashi Miike)
60) A Tale of Two Sisters (Kim ji Woon)
61) Dumplings (Fruit Chan)
62) Chasing Amy (Kevin Smith)
63) Khosla ka Ghosla (Dibakar Bannerjee)
64) Grindhouse (Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino)
65) Deconstructing Harry (Woody Allen)
66) Adaptation (Spike Jonze)
67) The Purple Rose of Cairo (Woody Allen)
68) The Isle (Kim ki Duk)
69) Bad Guy (Kim ki Duk)
70) In the Mood for Love (Wong kar Wai)
71) Sin City (Robert Rodriguez and Frank Miller)
72) Palindromes (Todd Solondz)
73) Revolutionary Road (Sam Mendes)
74) Oasis (Lee Chang-Dong)
75) Achilles and the Tortoise (Takeshi Kitano)
76) Man Bites Dog (Rémy Belvaux)
77) Chhoti si Baat (Basu Chatterjee)
78) Inglourious Basterds (Quentin Tarantino)
79) Head On (Fatih Akin)
80) Taxidermia (György Pálfi)
81) Hunger (Steve McQueen)
82) Dogville (Lars von Trier)
83) Zelig (Woody Allen)
84) The Aviator (Martin Scorcese)
85) The Big Sleep (Howard Hawks)
86) Pinjar (Chandraprakash Dwivedi)
87) 4 (Ilya Khrzhanovsky)
PS: The list is heavily revised and shortened and shall be subject to amendments as and when thought appropriate.
1) Jaane Bhi Do Yaaron (Kundan Shah)
2) Anand (Hrishikesh Mukherjee)
3) Before Sunset (Richard Linklater)
4) Shawshank Redemption (Frank Darabont)
5) Forrest Gump (Robert Zemeckis)
6) Requiem for a Dream (Darren Aronofsky)
7) Good Will Hunting (Gus Van Sant)
8) Memento (Christopher Nolan)
9) Boys Don’t Cry (Kimberley Peirce)
10) Schindler’s List (Steven Spielberg)
11) Waking Life (Richard Linklater)
12) Cidade de Deus (Fernando Mereilles)
13) Trois Colouers Rouge (Kriestof Kizelowsky)
14) Fight Club (David Fincher)
15) No Smoking (Anurag Kashyap)
16) Visitor Q (Takashi Miike)
17) 3-Iron (Kim ki Duk)
18) Stalker (Andrei Tarkovsky)
19) 2001: A Space Odyssey (Stanley Kubrick)
20) Pulp Fiction (Quentin Tarantino)
21) 2046 (Wang kar Wai)
22) Dil Se (Mani Ratnam)
23) Siddheshwari (Mani Kaul)
24) Kramashah (Amit Dutta)
25) Under the Skin (Jonathan Glazer)
26) Court (Chaitanya Tamhane)
27) Whiplash ()
Also
1) Pyasa (Guru Dutt)
2) Satya (Ram Gopal Varma)
3) The Others (Alejandro Amenábar)
4) Golmaal (Hrishikesh Mukherjee)
5) Dil Chahta Hai (Farhan Akhtar)
6) The Pianist (Roman Polanski)
7) Gandhi (Richard Attenborough)
8) As Good As it Gets (James L Brooks)
9) Saving Private Ryan (Steven Spielberg)
10) Platoon (Oliver Stone)
11) Reservoir Dogs (Quentin Tarantino)
12) Muhafiz (Ismail Merchant)
13) Salaam Bombay (Meera Nayar)
14) Maqbool (Vishal Bharadwaj)
15) Andaaz Apna Apna (Rajkumar Santoshi)
16) Guide (Vijay Anand)
17) Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (Michel Gondry)
18) Dead Poet's Society (Peter Weir)
19) Life is Beautiful (Roberto Benigni)
20) Philadelphia (Jonathan Demme)
21) The Maltese Falcon (John Huston)
22) Matrix Trilogy (Wachowsky Brothers)
23) Black (Sanjay Leela Bhansali)
24) The Machinist (Brad Anderson)
25) Anaadi (Hrishikesh Mukherjee)
26) Persona (Ingmar Bergman)
27) Omkara (Vishal Bharadwaj)
28) Black Friday (Anurag Kashyap)
29) Sholay (Ramesh Sippy)
30) Lagaan (Ashutosh Gowarikar)
31) 8 1/2 (Federico Fellini)
32) Apu Trilogy (Satyajit Ray)
33) Network (Sidney Lumet)
34) Monsoon Wedding (Mira Nair)
35) The Departed (Martin Scorsese)
36) Ed Wood (Tim Burton)
37) Amores Perros (Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu)
38) Kung Fu Hustle (Stephen Chow)
39) Cinema Paradiso (Giuseppe Tornatore)
40) The Lord of the Rings Trilogy (Peter Jackson)
41) The Blairwitch Project (Daniel Myrick & Eduardo Sánchez)
42) Shutter (Banjong Pisanthanakun & Parkpoom Wongpoom)
43) El Laberinto del Fauno (Guillermo del Toro)
44) Vengeance Trilogy (Park Chan-wook)
45) Annie Hall (Woody Allen)
46) La Haine (Mathieu Kassovitz)
47) Chinatown (Roman Polanski)
48) Irreversible (Gaspar Noe)
49) September (Woody Allen)
50) A Streetcar Named Desire (Elia Kazan)
51) Boogie Nights (Paul Thomas Anderson)
52) Stardust Memories (Woody Allen)
53) Unbreakable (Manoj Night Shyamalan)
54) Cloverfield (Matt Reeves)
55) The Dark Knight (Christopher Nolan)
56) Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter... and Spring (Kim Ki-duk)
57) Half Ticket (Kalidas)
58) Happiness (Todd Solondz)
59) Gozu (Takashi Miike)
60) A Tale of Two Sisters (Kim ji Woon)
61) Dumplings (Fruit Chan)
62) Chasing Amy (Kevin Smith)
63) Khosla ka Ghosla (Dibakar Bannerjee)
64) Grindhouse (Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino)
65) Deconstructing Harry (Woody Allen)
66) Adaptation (Spike Jonze)
67) The Purple Rose of Cairo (Woody Allen)
68) The Isle (Kim ki Duk)
69) Bad Guy (Kim ki Duk)
70) In the Mood for Love (Wong kar Wai)
71) Sin City (Robert Rodriguez and Frank Miller)
72) Palindromes (Todd Solondz)
73) Revolutionary Road (Sam Mendes)
74) Oasis (Lee Chang-Dong)
75) Achilles and the Tortoise (Takeshi Kitano)
76) Man Bites Dog (Rémy Belvaux)
77) Chhoti si Baat (Basu Chatterjee)
78) Inglourious Basterds (Quentin Tarantino)
79) Head On (Fatih Akin)
80) Taxidermia (György Pálfi)
81) Hunger (Steve McQueen)
82) Dogville (Lars von Trier)
83) Zelig (Woody Allen)
84) The Aviator (Martin Scorcese)
85) The Big Sleep (Howard Hawks)
86) Pinjar (Chandraprakash Dwivedi)
87) 4 (Ilya Khrzhanovsky)
PS: The list is heavily revised and shortened and shall be subject to amendments as and when thought appropriate.
Friday, May 02, 2008
Books read post January '08
1) The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (Volume 1)
2) The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (Volume 2)
3) Preludes Nocturnes (The Sandman Volume 1)
4) The Doll's House (The Sandman Volume 2)
5) Dream Country (The Sandman Volume 3)
6) A Season of Mists (The Sandman Volume 4)
7) A Game of You (The Sandman Volume 5)
8) Fables Reflections (The Sandman Volume 6)
9) Brief Lives (The Sandman Volume 7)
10)World's End (The Sandman Volume 8)
11)The Kindly Ones (The Sandman Volume 9)
12)The Wake (The Sandman Volume 10)
13)A Wizard of Earthsea -- Ursula K Le Guin
14)The Black Book -- Orhan Pamuk
2) The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (Volume 2)
3) Preludes Nocturnes (The Sandman Volume 1)
4) The Doll's House (The Sandman Volume 2)
5) Dream Country (The Sandman Volume 3)
6) A Season of Mists (The Sandman Volume 4)
7) A Game of You (The Sandman Volume 5)
8) Fables Reflections (The Sandman Volume 6)
9) Brief Lives (The Sandman Volume 7)
10)World's End (The Sandman Volume 8)
11)The Kindly Ones (The Sandman Volume 9)
12)The Wake (The Sandman Volume 10)
13)A Wizard of Earthsea -- Ursula K Le Guin
14)The Black Book -- Orhan Pamuk
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