The Jordis Unga Phenomenon

I am in love. Jordis Unga came into my life some five years ago through an eleventh-grade television obsession in the form of Rockstar INXS. The show was a drop from heaven for my friends and me. It was a version of American Idol, but filtered to only rock artists. The winner would front the kinda-legendary band, INXS. Jordis was 22 then and noticeable, but not the best. Marty Casey took that owner. JD Fortune won it in the end though, along with the award for the biggest douchebag. He no longer fronts INXS.

At 22, all those years ago, Jordis was the youngest competitor on Rockstar INXS. But, corny as this sounds, she had this twinkle in her eye, and this sense of genuine likability that made her one of those contestants that nobody could hate. She thrived on real emotion, not the over-the-top-oh-my-god-I-am-so-fake kind of drama.  I remember her rendition of “Imagine” was so serene that I still have it on my iPod today, a solid five years later. She placed fifth overall and I thought that was the end of that. Not quite.

Five years later, a week or so ago, I happened to stop skipping channels whilst I was on NBC. An episode of “The Voice,” NBC’s throw-of-the-dice against ABC’s flailing “American Idol”, was coming to an end. The host reviewed all the contestants that had made it past the first round, and BOOM, Jordis was back. This girl whose voice had played a decent role in my high-school days was back on the grid. She was a little older now and hopefully a little wiser. I had to see what she was all about. I rushed on to the Internet to hear her audition, and she literally destroyed the bejeezus out of it. It was an incredible rendition of Paul McCartney’s “Maybe I Am Amazed” and I was not only amazed, I was engaged, enthralled and in love.

I guess the fact that I once had a connection of sorts with this singer made me a lot more excited about her come back. But besides this connection, what really sold me was the pure passion oozing out from every inch of her. Clichéd as it sounds, hear me out. She started off a little nervous, but as soon as Blake hit his button, her performance was transformed. And this transformation was beautiful. Her face erupted into this magnificent smile and her eyes cringed at the pure joy of guaranteed progress. And then she just let go. She sang her lungs out, and rasped like a true rocker on those high notes, which sent a tingly quiver down my gut. What I find special about her is that she does not try to be someone she is not. In a television world marred by commercialism and sensationalism, it’s hard to find true expression of emotion. This makes her absolutely fantastic. Add some badass tattoos, some deep soothing eyes and a thundering smile, and you have my love.

On some level, my love for Jordis stems off of my current conundrum with women. When you’re looking for Mrs Right, there is this look/personality payoff. When the latter leads to attraction, it’s extremely refreshing because you know that your infatuation is not superficial. Sometimes, that is so hard to find. I found that with Jordis, and yes however farfetched it sounds, I am enjoying it. Currently, I am watching that performance of hers at least seven times a day, and that’s borderline unhealthy. But, I enjoy it every single time. Yes, I am never going to meet her, but I find this obsession really joyous. I hope more people see that genuineness in her. I hope she makes one hell of a career with her avocation.  Good luck, Jordis.

P.S. At my current rate of writing, it takes some real inspiration to get me to blog. Sad, but true.

by Anish Malpani

India Bindaas - Blogging the NRI Mind

500 People + 3 Days + 2 Families + 4 Dress Changes + 18 Dances + Lots of Money + A Phantasmagorical Quantity of Food = Our Cousin’s Medium-Sized Desi Destination Wedding. India Bindaas was conceived somehow after this sweaty, tiring yet immensely memorable experience. While recovering back home in Dubai, through a somewhat-clichéd epiphany, we (my sister and I) realized that we had something to say that was a step aside from the perceived conventions of modern Indian thinking. Also, both of our blogs were not functioning anyway. So, we decided to invest our creative energy on a new patriotic escapade. Now, we are a couple of non-resident, cynical-yet-proud Indians ranting and raving, recollecting, reproving and rationalizing everything that remotely resonates with our rat-infested yet ravishing India. We hope you can relate, at least a little. Check our new blog out at http://indiabindaas.in.

P.S. Yes, we succumbed to the super Desi .in top-level domain.

by Anish Malpani

Dhobi Ghat = A Bollywood Renaissance?

So I had the blissful pleasure of getting a chance to watch Aamir Khan Production's latest concoction, "Dhobi Ghat" on the big screen here in New York City. I am an AK fan, so yes I was excited to witness this spectacle. By the time the credits rolled, I was not only satisfied, but supremely amazed at the boldness and the silky, pure nature of this film. It was real, believable, emotional and stirring, but yet beautifully simple. I just had to break my three-month hiatus from blogging to review it.

The movie begins at this slow-rapid pace where everything seems painfully slow but is actually rolling on at a ten-minutes = one-night-stand pace. The first part focuses on character development and it is thoroughly pleasing to see that the Indian Film Industry has finally thought hard enough to develop interesting yet real characters. The film soon paves its way into a deep melancholy, but nothing that was sad enough to make you cringe. It climaxes with an acceptable and understandable disappointment. So yes, the end leaves you wanting more and does seem a little sudden. On retrospection though, this movie has deep, layered messages about India and life in Mumbai. Everything is transient, and so much happens, but in the end, everything and everyone moves on.

One of the dominating reasons I like this movie is that it was not a conventional Bollywood flick. It has no songs, is barely 120 minutes in length and is not scared to be real about sex, language and reality. A lot of credit for this obviously needs to go to director/producer Kiran Rao. She had a fresh spin on each of the main characters, and in what some might find dry, there is a lot of honest depth to be found. Prateik Babbar, i.e. the "Dhobi" was simply brilliant. He was delightfully convincing and genuinely charming in his slumdog-like role in this movie. Aamir Khan and the other chick did a decent job at personifying their persona too.

All good movies have one stand-out scene that just blows you away. This movie had one too. It was a first-person take of one of the characters in the movie. She was simultaneously filming and drawing on the shores of a beach in Mumbai, and every attempt of hers at this was lost when the waves strolled over and erased her writings. She did this a couple of times, chuckled and talked about how things are as transient as her writing on the beach. The sea seems to eat up all the secrets and keep them away from the world, making it a truly faithful friend. Yes, it might sound a little corny and I am sure my description does not do it any justice, but if you do watch this movie, enjoy that scene.

All in all, Dhobi Ghat is no epic nor a life-changing mindf**k. It's a simple, classy, deep and a blissfully sorry movie that seems to throw fresh paint across the Bollywood landscape. It's daring and I love that about it. It's a must watch for sure. If not in the theatres, then definitely at home, but NOT while having dinner or eating lunch. Make time for this one and treat it with a tad bit of patience, and I promise you it will be worth the while.

P.S. The movie served as a lovely end to a 12-hour-day with a long-lost friend.

by Anish Malpani

The Halloween Stare

So I am going to be a hundred-dollar-bill this Halloween. Yes, that is probably more American than any American will be, which is ironic. I am not American but am still imbibing the ultimate American education. Yes, it feels good to be an "exotic" (arguably) international student, but that sense of home that my country gives me, can never be matched. It is especially depressing whilst I am recruiting (for an internship/job). The "recovering" economy here in America prefers the local population, which is annoying, but fair. Why would a company spend time and money on an international student, when they can get somebody as good who is not going to increase paperwork? It is rational and completely logical but personally frustrating. Forget internships, it is hard even getting interviews. Even firms that preach "equal employment" are not considering international students - apparently we are the exception.

Yes, I am bitter and complaining. I am also downgrading myself a little by framing myself as easily replaceable but the dieing truth is that no one is indispensible. Modesty does not always reap benefits though so I am going to just say it - it sucks that the fate of an individual depends more on the interview than his/her actual capacity to work. It sucks, but it's again the only rational way of going about doing it. So, I need to turn my focus more towards improving my interviewing skills and how to fluff my resume. Ironic, to say the least but reasonable, none the less. Sure. I have a phone interview tomorrow. Let's see how that goes.

P.S. The reason for this mournful post is that I recently got rejected after a topsy-turvy interview. Phase 1 was bad, phase 2 was awesome. Bad beat awesome, unfortunately. I am bitter, and sad, and venting. Apologies. But, I feel that lifes staring at me like that friggin' pumpin pictured above.

by Anish Malpani

Arsenal Devastation

I consider myself to be a relatively passionate Arsenal fan. And if you follow football ("soccer"), you would know how Arsenal literally threw away two points this weekend. A 95th minute equalizer from Darren Bent irritated the hell out of me and other Arsenal fans, especially when there were only 4 minutes of added time. Besides that, we had an arguably unfair sending off and a horrendous penalty miss. So it was all our fault, but was so so frustrating.

My weekend was similar. It was largely unconstructive and involved some horrendous decisions and miserably fortune. It was long but it felt like it was way too short. And how much ever "fun" is important in college life, it's pathetic when the aftermath is miserable. It was all my fault of course, but it was unfortunate, just like Arsenal's Saturday. Harry, a good friend and a big Arsenal fan, keeps comparing his life to the fate of Arsenal and I always ridicule him for it. So this is, in a way, hypocritical. But what Arsenal and I both need to do is realize that it's important to finish things off rather than rely on some magical fortune to guide us on the right path.

P.S. This resonates with the "change" post and proves how hard it is to actually change. Also, the weekend destroyed my goal of "blogging everyday."

by Anish Malpani