Weird Times

School finally feels done with, and somehow I am glad it’s over. I don’t feel like studying or like giving any shitty exam, and the best part about it is that I don’t have too. The most I would want to do at school is sit there, laugh, talk and do nothing else. No more politics, no more excessive competitiveness and no more classroom chemistry. Yeah I will miss the football stuff, and the nostalgic stuff, and the class madness, and Mr Mudassir, but not now, not yet. Later, maybe.

I’ll miss my friends. Everyone’s leaving, but everyone’s also getting overly close, and it almost seems as if it's all happening at the wrong time. As in, why now? This could have happened a little earlier. It’s almost like the thought of separation is bringing us closer. Damn? Oh and “love is” literally “in the air”, everywhere except around my air, that is. And that’s good and all, but then it’s time for friggin’ separation and that sucks. Tejas said three somewhat final goodbyes yesterday, and I would have to do the same, soon. And it’s just that I feel really weird. I am so close to my friends, all of them in some way or the other, but how close? What’s gonna happen a few years down the line? Yeah we will be in touch thanks to Facebook and shit, but will I see them again? How close am I really to them?

Loads of friggin’ questions, and yeah this post does border lame, and people would probably go, “it’s life, deal with it, idiot!” But I don’t know, it’s just a weird time. When life gets comfortable, starting a new one almost seems wrong. But I am looking forward to University too, so well, that adds to the list of confusing thoughts. And then, random people have kinda started entering into my life, which is again, weird, but cool. Redial Entertainment and driving and football and other fun stuff makes for exciting times, but separation and departures makes everything a little emotional, and when you add the two feelings, it just gets plain weird.

P.S. Yesternight, Shak Rukh Uncle and Dhiru Dada blew the lights outta me.

by Anish Malpani

300

Okay, I have not been as excited as I was to see this movie for a long time. The trailers of 300 were just mind-blowingly awesome. Also, the TIME article and the hype around its “beauty” made me very inclined to watching it. So I did. It is pretty darn good.

Romit accompanied me for this one, and he was habitually three minutes late. Just before the movie began, we saw a very inspiring Coca Cola advert, and wondered whether we could ever create anything like it. We also found the trailer for “The Number 23” highly intriguing and noted that Ali just to watch that movie for all it's devil-ness.

Finally the movie began, with our hopes as high as Mount Everest. The introduction of the movie was brilliant, but then it swept into this half-dull phase, where it became semi-Bollywood-ish. There was an over-use of “stirring music”, and too much drama for my liking. But that phase passed very quickly. The movie beautifully switched into brilliant gear. With hair-tearing action scenes and the gut-wrenching voice of King Leonidas, time flew by, and we were stuck onto every inch of muscle-movement. Beyond the action, the mental build of a Spartan fascinated me. Their ability to laugh at death and embrace it as the highest token of honour is a little extreme, but the sheer devotion, unity and courage that the Spartans depict is inspiring in its own little way. Their faith in their King and the principled nature of their leader earn the audiences love almost instantaneously.

It has a decent story line - the fearless 300 warriors of Sparta against thousands of soldiers of the Persian empire in the great battle of Thermopylae. The 300 warriors are on the brink of pulling off a historic victory, until they get betrayed and meet heir downfall. But their sacrifice inspires the rest of Greece to stow away the Persians. Yeah I did put it all together in 4 lines, but you would be going to see the movie is for it's visual effects, its effective story-telling, and it's brilliant directing, and not for some complex story line.

The movie, however, lacks realism, but then it is not meant to be a “Saving Private Ryan” either. As TIME rightly put it, 300 is beautiful and is meant to be so. It has beautiful virtual sets, with excellent costumes and hair-raising sound effects. The amount of post-production work put into this film is laudable and the whole concept of it being shot completely in front of a green screen makes it a technological milestone in film-making. In addition to that, the photography and the direction of some of the shots is beyond brilliant. The script is also decent, and the acting is above average. Gerard Butler, who acts as “King Leonidas”, gives a powerful performance, but nobody else is noteworthy.

If you have seen the movie, you will call me an old fart for framing the movie “beautiful”, because its one of the most gruesome movies ever to hit the screens. It’s 18+ and rightly so, because well it’s like a “pornaction” film due to the explicit blood-spilling. There are more than enough head-cutting-offs and enough blood to fill a river. In one scene, an ‘Immortal’ (one of the enemy soldiers) cuts of the Spartan army’s Captain’s son’s head, the head spins into the air, and its oesophagus and trachea are visible from underneath, as it lands onto the ground. The head-less body stays put, and then suddenly falls. With blood oozing out, the body and its head are seen together, lying motionless on the ground. Fine, this movie may not compete with Hannibal and the other gruesome movies on the "disgusting" scale, but it has its fair share of eye-poking, disgusting creatures, blood and death. There are times where you will just want to look away or clutch your seat with sheer disgust. Romit is currently being haunted by all the head-cutting action. He can’t seem to get those images out of his head. So yeah it’s not a beautiful film in totality, but is the epitome of beautiful film-making.

Overall, this movie is a must-watch-in-theatre types, though the extra-sensitive and the blood-phobic people will not enjoy it. And please, don’t take your girlfriend for this one.

P.S. I would give it a 7 on 10 because I don’t think it comes close to Gladiator. Why Gladiator? Because it’s one of my all-time favourites and is partially comparable to 300.

by Anish Malpani

Russell In Dubai!

Yes, we lucky people of Dubai always seem to get luckier. Russell Peters, arguably the best comedian in the world today, did four friggin’ shows the melting pot of the Middle East, each having been sold out more quickly than the other. He came, he conquered and he made us laugh our asses off!

Okay, enough of the formal crap.

Initially, we [especially Romit] were heart broken to hear that the great Russell would be performing just before our Physics exam. Bloody hell, I couldn't have hated ISC more. But then relief came and relief is always good. 18^th of March was the perfect day to add 2 more shows Mr Peters, thank you! Tickets for his earlier shows had been sold out in 40 minutes, and the shows on the 18^th got sold out in about 8 minutes. Romit and I bought 8 tickets. Brilliant.

The 18th day of March came faster than I thought it would. We were surprisingly occupied with tons of Redial Entertainment work, and umm some other “fun”. It was a long time since the five of us had been together and boy it felt good. But all that aside, Romit and I geared up for the gig. We had bought Bharath a ticket as a birthday gift, which he initially greeted with scorn to my surprise, but came around later. Bharath, sometimes you are just too nice, but I still love you.

We [Romit, Bharath & I] made our way to Crowne Plaza hotel at about 6:30, three and a half hours earlier than the beginning of the act, hoping to get the first row, and having our asses picked on. All of that did happen, and boy we enjoyed it.

In all popular concerts, programs and shows held in Dubai, there is one common thread - the annoying pre-entrance debacle. Today was pretty much the same. There was no line system initially and everyone seemed to be everywhere outside the entrance gates. So well we thought we might as well start a line. There we stood, all proud and tall, first in line to hit the seats. But then, suddenly, a couple of Arab people came in front of us and started chatting up their fellow over-weight Arab bodyguard. When you suck up, the result is always good, so there was no budging those suckers from the front of the line. Fine. Dealt with. Then this innocent Indian boy emerged, asking our fat fellow Arab bodyguard, which of the two lines was the VIP line. The fat racist Arab fellow put on this shit-ass fake Indian accent and told him that “this was the Vee-Aai-Pee Liyun, and this was the Narmal liyun”, pointing at the two different lines as if he was addressing someone slow. His fellow Arab suckers enjoyed a snigger, and the fat racist Arab basked in the glory. Now what the hell is that? Friggin’ racists. I gave that fat bodyguard a mean look, but then, that was most I had the balls to do.

We then entered the hall to form another non-organised line. The first few people [which obviously included us] were in line, but the remaining people were like a kindergarten class gone wild. Some weeping aunty-ji came like a little toddler to complain to the second big ball-less teacher-like bodyguard saying that 'no one was standing in line' and that 'everyone was “butting” in'. Some “chicks” joined aunty-ji and it was a beautiful ensemble of chicks, aunty-hens and big ball-less bodyguards. The second body guard gave into their plea and said that there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. He therefore allowed them to butt into the line too - another bastard that one. The hypocritical chicks suddenly had tears of joys in their eyes. Brests always win with us men, don’t they?

Yup, I have sidetracked a little, but the humanity of Dubai is always worth a mention. Anyway, as soon as the doors opened, we rushed in like hounds, elbowing any obstruction in the way to get to the best possible seats. And by doing all that, we obviously did get the best seats. My parents were going to come in later, as they were evidently busy at work, so we saved them seats hoping that no Arab would pick a fight with us to get them. We were saved from this, but the Indian Sindhi sitting next to us fought her ass off against this aggressive Arab kid to protect seats for her loved ones. Congratufuckinlations to her.

We waited for an hour, at ease, sitting in the first row, enjoying the superior seats to those behind us. At 10:10 PM, the super-huge Greek "Angelo", Russel’s opening act, came onto the stage. He ridiculed his own obesity to make us laugh and was quite successful in that too. He was the perfect appetizer for Russell, and activated our stomachs for the main course.

Enter Russell Peters. He was obviously met with loud cheers from the over-enthusiastic crowd. Yes, I must admit, being a big fan, it was great to see him. Romit thought Russell had "teleportated" some of his weight. Russel began and penetrated our stomachs brilliantly, and was on song through out. Well I would say he was more than on song, he was on friggin’ fire. He didn’t repeat any of his earlier jokes, and cleverly inculcated the Dubai aspect in this new plethora of jokes. From the Lebanese “Habibis” to “Mr North Carolina”, from the “Egyptianpino” to his other impromptu crowd interaction, and from his usual spin on hairy Indians to his brilliantly witty jokes, Russell entertained our asses off. His impersonation of George Bush was spot on and his take on the Football World Cup 2006 was awesomely hilarious too. What makes him brilliant is that he has this wonderful ability of striking the right note and making a universal connection with his Asian dominated crowd. And besides just being plain funny, Russell's jokes have bitter honesty in them. As he said on his CBC interview, it's easier for a coloured comedian to spurt the honesty in an act than some bimbo President in some Congressional speech.

I had a fair share of his crowd-interaction. Being an Indian, Russell screwed me over my apparent hair-yness. He spotted my monobrow and told me to shave it off because it would give me two eyebrows, and for us Indians, the more of anything the merrier, right? He didn’t leave me there. Later on, when he spoke about Indian men and their hairy dicks, he picked me out yet again and told me to shave that jungle off too. Cool. Yes I was a working definition of the Indian man for Russell. As Romit later said, I got what I want. Russel then went off and came on for an encore. He then threw upon us my favourite joke of the evening on “Bollywood Pornography”. Romit and I almost fell out of our chairs, and I have never heard my Dad laugh so loudly. It was a perfect end to brilliant show of a brilliantly talented comedian.

The fairy-tale-like experience didn’t end there. We then got to meet Russell & Angelo in a conference room where we took photos with him and got his autographs. He remembered my mono-brow and I did have one-tenth of a conversation with him, but he gave most of his attention to the hot girls that were there. I don’t blame Russel for this. He was being a true man. I like this honest entertainer.

P.S. Besides all the fun, Arsenal lost
today, and I lost my house keys.

by Anish Malpani

Redial Entertainment Kickstarted

Redial Entertainment has formally begun...www.redial-entertainment.blogspot.com

P.S. Call again.

by Anish Malpani

Dubai Desert Rock 2007!

After eternally terminating Chemistry from your life, there is nothing more positive you can hope for. But then Desert Rock comes along, and redefines everything. Morally, what Ali and I did was wrong. In the middle of your board examinations, ideally, you shouldn’t be allowed to attend an 80DB+ concert. It’s not right. But our blessed parents don’t exactly resonate with that notion. Thank God.

Essentially, we went there to fulfill half of Ali’s dream - IRON MAIDEN. We made no compromises. We were the first few people to line up, and planned to maintain our 100% record of standing in the first row for every single Desert Rock since its inception in 2004. However, around us, in the lines, were clearly the most annoying aspects of Dubai - the people. You can’t get faker and more loser-ish then them. Their definition of fun is weird, and the only constant pain-in-the-asses for the entire of this Desert Rock are the people. Having reached there 4 hours before the gates opened, we were trying our best to entertain ourselves. So, well, just for fun, we started singing some Backstreet Boys stuff, you know, to see the response of the faggots around us. And it was exactly what we thought it would be. They ridiculed, abused and laughed at us. Their sense of humour really seemed to be up their bums. One of these cool-wannabe rockers, this 15 year old kid who thought he was the son of the Metal Gods, started pulling our leg bordering on pure harshness. So to get the plot - “What the hell is your problem?” asked Ali.
“My problem is that you are a fat-ass Indian,” was the reply. Haih? What was hilarious to see was the enormous joy that he experienced having cracked what he thought was a purely brilliant joke. Ali and I were unaffected, but bemused. Wow, some people are so shallow. The British girls next to him seemed to be having a ball of a time too, ridiculing us with their haughty and gay ascents. One Arab female started mocking our Indian ascent, and everyone was having a blast, with us being the sources of fun. That freak 15-year-old told the non-stop-singing Ali to sing some Punjabi-MC stuff, trying to drown us in embarrassment using his sarcastically sadist Indian accent. We don’t even talk like that. Anyway we were amused and had our own ball at how ridiculously fascinating people can be.

Finally we did enter the arena, and there was no controlling our exuberant energy. We needed to be in that first darn row. We needed to run our asses off to secure our positions, and we did. Joy, unconfined! But we forgot to get our fluorescent green arm bands, and therefore, essentially, we were “illegal” for the entire of the concert. Anyway, what was fascinating to see was that half of Modern High was there - loads of 11^th graders and 9^th graders and a chunk of 9^th grade girls. The latter bit was confusingly amusing. Fine Tandon knew her stuff, but the other girls seemed a bit lost. Anyway it was interesting none the less.

At 2:00 PM, Junkyard Groove took control of the stage, and surprisingly, they were really good. Yes technical difficulties did muck it up a little, but their front-man, Ameeth, covered up really well. I found their music really soulful, and the band-members very genuinely passionate. I just loved their music, and am really looking forward to getting their album, which is out soon. From their Myspace profile: “What do you get when you put a drummer with heavy metal roots, a guitarist with classic rock roots, a bassist crazy about Jazz and a very drunken vocalist, in 1 band? Junkyard Groove!” It’s worth giving them a listen. Amidst all this, some “Metal” fans, or well “Wannabe Rockers” were “moshing” to their music. Now Junkyard Groove are essentially an Alternative band, so there was no real reason to mosh, but hey man, “it’s cool.”

The Groove were followed by the most untalented celebrity singers of all time – Lauren Harris. Fine she is sexy, hot and all the rot, but that woman is in no way a great singer. She sings all her songs on a low register and tries to make a very desperate effort to come off as a rocker with her fake grimace, singing some “Take Me Home” shyte or something. She is the epitome of ‘riding on your father’s back’, and I was in no way entertained by her, though her accompanying band (i.e. a guitarist, a bassist and a drummer) were not bad at all.

Mastadon follwed Harris and weren’t that great either. They seemed to be lost in their own world. They literally came out, performed and left. There was no crowd-interaction, no uniqueness and basically no performance as of such. Ali did defend them later on saying that they are all about the music and beyond the crowd interaction, and when it came to music they were quite brilliant. But hey, I am at a concert, and I am paying to watch you. The least you can do is half-entertain me. Anyway, SK, who was in the first row till now, got squeezed out after almost having been squashed to death. The crowd is insane for these Metal concerts. They are aggressive, arrogant, self-righteous and so fake, most of them anyway.

In Flames, who were up next, were much better and seemed to have a decent fan-following. This really attractive chick next to me knew all their stuff. Personally, I found them to be quite decent. As a group, they were good performers with some good songs and enough amounts of energy. I liked their lead singer, though he somehow reminded me of Vivek Malhotra.

Stone Sour didn't disappoint either. It was obviously all about Corey Taylor. As Ali said, Corey was one solid sob - energy personified, and one of the best bald head-bangers ever. Just looking at his vigour was entertaining...wow! He was so spell bounding that I don't even remember the other band members' faces. Anyway, I really enjoyed "Through The Glass" and loved the way Corey gave music some substance, though I was a little disappointed that they didn't play "Bother" [the only other song I knew :P].

Prodigy, for me, were just bad. I hated every moment of their performance, which is quite contradictory to what most of the other people felt. Initially, they seemed promising, with their fancy light set up, and this new-generation DJ-Console-like thing. But all they played was non-stop dhin-chak-dhin-chak heavy metal bet that really got to you after some time. They were so loud, and so monotonous, Ali and I just couldn’t get a grip of them, and subsequently ourselves, as our heads burst into dhin-chak-dhin-chak pain . The lead-singers didn’t do much. They were just screaming the entire time, and their crazy guitarist seemed weirdly insane.

Iron Maiden were a complete contrast to Prodigy. After a long wait, and total stage revamp, they finally erupted on to stage and sent the crowd into orgasmic ecstasy. Their unlimited energy, legendary status and supremely-entertaining music capped off a brilliant night. They seemed to make everything worth it. With a war-like stage-dress-code, the infamous tank and Eddie, they gave Dubai the full on 'Maiden Experience'. They literally blew the living daylights out of us. Usually they perform their e
ntire new album when they tour, but they made sure they played their classics too. ‘Number of the Beast’, ‘Run to the Hills’, ‘Iron Maiden’ and ‘The Trooper’ really got the crowd going. Ali, with his supreme Maiden knowledge, knew exactly what was going to happen next. He flipped when Bruce Dickenson cried, “Scrrreaam for me, Dubai!” Wow! They were mesmerizing, especially when the infamous Tank kicked into action, and when Eddie walked on to the stage, in his trademark lanky death-walk. WOW! In addition to that, Bruce’s limitless amount of energy and Mcbrain’s guitar-throwing exploits made it even more awesome. Their stamina for high-energy level performances at their old-ish ages is awe-inspiring. They were simply brilliantly brilliant.

Wow, it was one memorable night, the 9^th of March. We did become partially deaf immediately afterwards, and did have a temporary 2-day period of Tinnitus later, but hell, it was worth it! =)

That was day 1 of the 2 day festival that was Dubai Desert Rock 2007. We didn’t make it to the second day because we were half deaf, pretty worn out and filled with guilt at the aspect of not studying enough. Ahh, life!

P.S. A friggin’ long post, but a memory successfully created. As a matter of fact, this post is essentially only for two people.

by Anish Malpani