1888 Dial India by Anuvab Pal

This one makes for a nifty read. Nifty - in all its myriad shades and meanings that is, if you know what I mean.

Anuvab Pal is an acclaimed playwright and screenplay writer. His screenplays include the award winning The Loins of Punjab - "a witty musical comedy with a sharp political edge" as per the NY Times, and The President is Coming - a low-budget English-language film that "takes a healthy snigger at the desi self" according to Nikhat Kazmi (from the Times of India.)

However, what has been overlooked so far is Anuvab's stellar selling skills and awesome pursuing power. Here's why: In the foreword itself (titled: Why am I writing a memoir?) he mentions and I quote, "I have always wanted to hire a Bengali secretary. I have always wanted to hire a Bengali secretary with an MA. Ideally in English Literature. I won't go into why. It has something to do with Aparna Sen getting wet."

Then towards the end of the book he writes, and I quote, "The only Bengali I like is Aparna Sen because she got wet in a movie I saw a little bit of, and yes, maybe I was a bit drunk that night because of Antara leaving. The point is, I like wet Bengalis. But definitely not the dry ones."

And here's the clincher: on the back cover of this book, like a masthead, stands the words, "Pal is one of the funniest people I know!" - Konkona Sen Sharma.

Well, we are all familiar with Konkona, aren't we? She featured in the Aparna Sen-helmed Mr. and Mrs. Iyer, Vishal Bharadwaj's Omkara (a desi take on Othello), the Madhur Bhandarkar directed noir film named Traffic Signal and Page 3, Anurag Basu's Life in a... Metro, Zoya Akhtar's Luck by Chance and Ayan Mukerjee's romantic comedy Wake Up Sid - in which she starred alongside Ranbir Kapoor.

But that's not the point. The point is: Konkona is Aparna Sen's daughter. So, now (hopefully) you will fully understand why I said that the author (Anuvab Pal) possesses stellar selling skills and awesome pursuing power, what?! :)

Frankly speaking, I too have watched loads of Bangla movies, including several featuring a young Aparna Sen, though I don't recall any movie where she got wet. But then I did not watch those films for her; I watched them for their sublime humour, great storyline, lovely songs ... and Soumitro Chattopadhyay (not necessarily in that order though). Here are a few of those movies: Basanta Bilap, Baksha Badal, Akash Kusum, Chhutir Phande. [Caveat to self: I better not venture into Soumitro territory, 'coz then this would no longer be a book review; in which case Random House will stop sending me any more books. See my point? Good.]

As for wet and dry Bengalis, am not quite sure what they are. You see, once upon a time Bengal was officially called West Bengal, but pronounced as Oaest Bengal; this erroneously gave the message that it was actually Waste Bengal. Therefore, Didi very prudently changed it to Poschimbongo - so that the rest of the folks (outside of Bengal and Bengalis) could have a real tongue-twister to contend with. Methinks: this well-intentioned thoughtfulness probably qualifies Didi as a dry Bengali. Also, Mamma Mia, Behenji, Amma, et al are unlikely to ever visit Poschimbongo or even mention it. There you are, several birds with one tongue-twister! Didi is bheree clever, I tell you.

Book Blurb: 2009-year of the slump. America is in the grip of severe economic hardship and unemployment. The only numbers that are on the rise is the suicide rate.

Arun Gupta, entrepreneur, lothario, Aramis cologne user, evangelist of new India's new dreams, sees a glimmer of a business plan form out of the American crisis. He wants to save lives. And he wants to do it sitting in his baroque Navi Mumbai office. His idea is simple. If everything can be outsourced to India, why not the saving of American lives?

Part rant, part satire, 1888 Dial India documents, through the politically incorrect words of its anti- hero, the dreams of corporate India.

My Two Pence Worth: Anuvab Pal, through his central character, Arun Gupta, the semi-comical, clueless (self-proclaimed) serial entrepreneur has held up a mirror to "new India". This book (in the form of a memoir) is a searing satire on "new India" - her people, the youth, their attitude, the captains of industry, the policy makers, the many businesses cropping up ... and the like; the superficiality and the shallowness of it all. In fact, the author has managed to cover the whole spectrum in just 230-odd pages of this slight book.

Liberalization arrived over 21 years ago, but the shining Information Technology (IT) industry came up about a dozen years back, thanks to the Y2K bug that had to be fixed. These bug-fixers later became glorified software engineers ... and the backbone of an emerging industry (which relied primarily on outsourced work - from the developed world.) Shortly thereafter, came the offshoot - the Call Centre and the BPO business. Work outsourced from the developed world yet again; work that the inhabitants of the developed world were either uninclined (too busy or too big) to do themselves, or even if they did, it cost 5, 6 or 7 times more than what they could easily manage here - in this promised land of outsourcing.

Many a starry-eyed youth decided to swim in this attractive sea. Attractive since the pay was considerably higher than the pocket money they received from their parents. So, chunks of our youth chucked college (read: studies) and queued up for a sum that had one or two extra zeros more than what their regular pocket money possessed. The lure for a couple of extra zeros made them to blithely brush-off the numerous health side-effects and even unsettle their body-clocks by turning nocturnal. As modern architecture, symbolized by shiny glass-and-chrome buildings, swallowed up our grass-fields, parks, agricultural lands, playgrounds and even lakes, India became more and more 'developed' and 'culturally evolved'. All thanks to this outsourcing phenomenon (read: the numerous outsourced jobs) - that unfailingly become an issue in the US of A - come election time; though the captains of industry there aren't at all keen on getting it done in the land of cowboys, Pepsi, Coke, KFC and McDonald's. But then, why would they, when they can have their cake and eat it too?! But a total focus on perceived profits and a mad rush to identify sunrise sectors - have their own story to tell.

What have our policy-makers done? As usual, gorminted and are still gorminting! Has there been any system or processes in place - to deal with the issues arising out of sudden five-figure salaries, assumed names, fake accents, alien culture, nocturnal jobs or studies left mid-way? Well, my guess is as good as yours. What's even worse is that, there has been no attempt to scale up on the quality and type of work that was being outsourced and accepted in the name of 'synergy', 'growth' and what-not. (This scaling-up should have happened a long time ago, but hasn't.) Whether this was due to lack of vision or complacency or something else, we shall never know. But the bubble is bursting. Where's the product-driven work, where's R&D, where's cutting edge? Nowhere in sight! We have firmly stayed put as a cost centre, and turned the young workforce into a bunch of cyber-coolies instead.

We have managed to create a large pool of engineering, law, medical and management graduates, even post-graduates and PhDs - thanks to proliferating educational institutes. But what is the quality of either of them? And what is the type of work they are doing, if at all? What sort of India is being built, painted brightly and then termed "new India" and all that jazz? A mirage looks good and alluring from afar, but can a nation and people become so?

The pompous central character, Arun Gupta, runs an outsourcing company specializing in suicides. He has decided to turn saving lives into a profitable venture. In his typical over-confident manner, he is convinced that a suicide help-line is a veritable goldmine (especially at a time when the US of A is reeling under the body blow dealt by the Lehman Brothers.) ... And what's more, he has decided to run it from apna Mumbai (more precisely, from Prestige Business Centre) along with his entire workforce consisting of: Rashmi (aka Meghan) and Ramesh (aka Gregory aka Greg).

How he (Arun) goes about it all - setting up, sales pitch, VC funding, training, hiring, motivating, inter-personal skills, people management, and so on and so forth, is a tongue-in-cheek, over-the-top satirical take on how a lot of things have been done and are still being done in this country and elsewhere. It is also a commentary (albeit with dollops of sarcasm and irony) on businesses that first latch on to and then depend on outsourced work, but what happens if this work is heavily dependent on precariously balanced lives and economy?

Verdict: Anuvab's prolific pen rather keyboard, drips with satire and sarcasm; it pokes fun at every issue, every entity and every institution. There's the sublime mixed with the in-your-face, which in-turn is blended with slapstick, over-the-top and whacky. One cannot really classify all this as humour; he is clearly not a humour-writer. He is a satirist that weaves in heavy dozes of biting sarcasm camouflaged as humour and wit; and he does it very well indeed. From Tata, Godrej, Ambani, Rajesh Khanna, Amitabh Bachchan, product endorsements, SRK, Facebook, TCS, Satyam, Tiger Woods, Osama, Obama, Tom Cruise, Brad Pitt, Hillary Clinton, Manmohan Singh, George Michael, Imran Khan, garbage, garage, skyscrapers, mortgage, hot-shot business schools, matrimonial ads, nothing has been spared.

There's even the bit about someone deciding to invent penicillin in order to save the life of his little boy ... while also laying the foundation of a huge empire on the side. That's new-age philanthropy and care.

Not too different from Starbucks and how they've successfully built their business since 1971. It is interesting to note how the company's mission statement is not to sell a lot of coffee, but rather "to inspire and nurture the human spirit - one person, one cup and one neighborhood at a time."

Do pick up this book and read it. It's not a weighty tome, and makes for a breezy read; though it deals with a mélange of issues - all of which we can easily identify with. But once you have turned the last page, do try to exercise your gray cells and figure out the many layers and decipher the camouflaged language. As for moi, I'll make sure to catch Anuvab's movies and read his books - henceforth.

Rating: 4/5

The production value of the book is good, editing errors are rare and therefore negligible. The book jacket cover is bright, the book name embossed in red and gold - also the colours of the state that houses India's Silicon Valley, and complete with the image of a young girl wearing a call center headset. It instantly catches the eye. But behind all the shine and glitter is a faceless supplier of cheap labour; one whose identity, thoughts, emotions, imagination and creativity has been stunted and altered by outsourcing - forever. But above all - have we even attempted to grasp the heart, the soul and the future of a nation that is being built as the promised land of cheap labour?

Details of the Book: 1888 Dial India/ Author: Anuvab Pal/ Publisher: Random House/ Binding: Paperback/ Publishing Date: 2011/ Genre: Fiction/ ISBN: 9788184001587/ Pages: 232/ Price: Rs.150.

Picture: The book jacket cover of '1888 Dial India'. Courtesy: link.

Doordarshan, etc: Wisps of Nostalgia (Part-II)

Author's Note: You may read the 1^st part of this series: HERE.

Here's a little trivia regarding "Kitty" of Jasoos Karamchand: the popular misconception that Sushmita Mukherjee is actor Keshto Mukherjee's daughter. In the 70's and early 80's, Keshto Mukherjee specialized in comic drunkard roles in Hindi films. He was a discovery of the legendary Ritwik Ghatak, but it was Asit Sen who ought to be credited for unearthing Keshto Mukherjee's potentials for the patent drunkard act (although he was a teetotaler in real life). Here is Keshto Mukherjee doing his classic act (that of a drunkard) and annoying Utpal Dutt immensely (in the Hrishikesh Mukherjee-directed 1979 classic 'Golmaal'):

Now, think of the latest auteurism that has come out of Ro'hit' Shetty's stable? A (supposedly) 'modern take' on Hrishi-da's classic! Enough said. Think of the other 'masterpieces' being churned out at regular intervals? There seems to be no dearth of Vitamin M - when it comes to sponsoring or financing below-the-nadir stuff. And to think we are bang in the middle of a bottom-less recession! Strange indeed!!

It is true that various channels are exploring new avenues for generating mirth. Shekhar Suman's now-defunct Movers and Shakers tried mime and parody so successfully that one of his prime targets, the then prime minister, Mr. Atal Bihari Vajpayee, personally complimented him. Later Suman anchored Poll Khol wherein he targeted various politicians. Often, the monkey in the show overshadowed the host.

As for Shekhar Suman (SS), he is now a pale shadow of his once-upon-a-time-glory-days of 'Reporter', which kept us glued to the television screens. Samir Hegde of 'Reporter' was a total contrast to Samir Diwan of the laugh-riot 'Dekh Bhai Dekh'. However, both were a far cry from the blabber-box that SS has somehow managed to metamorphose himself into. The much-admired Samir Hegde (from 'Reporter') was a very unassuming, well-meaning, down to earth, investigative journalist. His manner and attitude were more intense, more ponderous and in terms of dialogue ... understandably quite unlike those mouthed by the somewhat frivolous Samir Diwan (from 'Dekh Bhai Dekh'). But we loved them both - one made us think, the other made us laugh. And Shekhar's expressions weren't frozen then. Unfortunately the same cannot be said about his various avatars that plague us now (or have been plaguing us for a while now) - on the idiot-box. Botox has claimed yet another high-profile victim. Muscles and nerves have been 'downsized' as per the signs of the times and have been given the 'golden handshake' aka 'voluntary retirement' too; therefore, no voluntary or involuntary responses or reflexes to be found on the faces of folks facing the arc-lights. Muscles and nerves: RIP.

Sadly, now-a-days, people turn into walking mummies but no pyramids are built anywhere. That's progress, I guess.

Whether 'Movers and Shakers' - the very popular tongue-in-cheek current affairs show hosted by Shekhar Suman in his earlier mobile-faced avatar, complete with an in-house musical band, innovatively christened the 'Rubber-band' - was telecast by DD (Doordarshan) or not, I don't quite remember.

Ditto 'Pradhan Mantri' featuring the versatile Kay Kay Menon and Malvika Tiwari. But 'Ji Mantriji', which took a barbed look at Babudom and featured Farooque Shaikh, was telecast by Star Plus.

We discussed crime-based and detective serials in the 1st part of this series. Frankly, when it comes to iconic detective characters, I prefer the original ... or at least one or the other of their earlier versions. In short: yours truly isn't really taken up with any of the upgraded or modified variations, no matter how many clothes they shed. I mean: the compulsory 'moulting' that actors have to undergo these days, whatever the weather. 

So, Benedict Cumberbatch or no Benedict Cumberbatch, my loyalties firmly lie and will remain with Jeremy Brett - always. He IS Sherlock Holmes. Period. Gazing down from the suitably cavernous windows of 221B, was Jeremy Brett. Watching him stride on the small-screen today - as the peerless detective (thanks to box-set DVDs), I am transported back to my childhood days. Jeremy Brett and Sherlock Holmes continue to thrill and fascinate.

[Jeremy Brett: website.]

During his distinguished 40-year career, however, Brett's repertoire included such diverse roles as the foppish Freddie Eynsford-Hill in the 1964-film version of My Fair Lady, Bassanio, Robert Browning, Che Guevara, Dracula, and even Dr. Watson in a 1980 Los Angeles production of the play The Crucifer of Blood, with the screen-legend Charlton Heston as Holmes. However, Brett's brilliant portrayal of Sherlock Holmes in a series of episodes for British television (filmed between 1984 and 1994) - remains ever-popular. With his intense and ascerbic Holmes, Brett added something to the character (of Holmes) that no one else whom I have seen has done: He brought a sense of humor to the part. And he and David Burke and Edward Hardwicke let us know that this Holmes was very good friends with Dr. John Watson.

Jeremy was very ill by the time the last series of S.H went into production. His ill-health visibly showed but he bravely carried on. Here was a well-known and accomplished actor willing to go to the lengths of losing weight, dying his hair and taking up pipe smoking to properly inhabit the world's most famous detective. It all seems very irresistible; but it also proved fatal for him, leading to a nervous breakdown, repeated illness and a premature death.   

Robert Downey, Jr.? Nah.

Although Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's writings (as well as those of the celebrated Agatha Christie's) were not free from racial leanings and colour, we - the Indians - have always possessed the necessary magnanimity and sophistication required to separate the milk (cream) from the water. The fair and lovely world has failed to acknowledge this. But so what?

However, while the British have preserved the famous (yet fictitious) address - 221B Baker Street; we - the Indians - have destroyed and demolished every inch of the brilliant Shankar Nag's beloved "Malgudi". There are some lessons that we can and should learn from our erstwhile colonial masters; unfortunately, we have been insisting on learning the wrong ones.

I am glad that the "Feluda" series still remain firmly in the hands of the Ray family and Satyajit Ray's son, Sandip Ray, remains perched atop the director's saddle. Otherwise, by now cringe-inducing item numbers, crude jokes, lewd gestures, double-entendre dialogues and adult content would have first wormed their way into the narrative - flaunting the ever-ready laws of necessity, market dynamics, changing tastes of Gen X, reel-life mimicking real-life, aesthetics and whatnot. And though I said, "first wormed their way into the narrative", in reality, all the above would have quickly enveloped and submerged the narrative itself - thanks to sundry moneybags, etc that are so keenly and genuinely 'concerned' about projecting real life onto reel life ... while upholding 'our ancient culture and traditions' - simultaneously. Quite a balancing act, must say.

I so wish Satyajit had made 'Badshahi Angti' (The Emperor's Ring) - even before making 'Shonar Kella' (The Golden Fort). This way, Soumitro would have played Feluda and that would have been a perfect cinematic treat - one, we would have cherished forever. The quartet of Feluda, Sherlock Holmes, Byomkesh Bakshi and Tintin actually made us want to be detectives, no? Here is Soumitro as Feluda (in Shonar Kella) exercising his 'mogojastro' - his agile mind and brilliance:

None can quite match up to Soumitro. He is an enchanting combination of good looks, great personality and classy demeanor; a rich, cultured voice combined with layered and nuanced acting abilities. Many think him to be Satyajit Ray's alter ego. Anyone going gaga over thespian Dilip Kumar's or even the emperor-of-ham, Shahrukh Khan's portrayal of 'Devdas' - should watch the Bangla version featuring Soumitro - in the same role. Superlative. [Those who do not know the language can use the subtitles option.]

Now, weren't all these movies so much better than the heavy-duty-dialogue-spewing-angry-young-man types, heaving bosoms, jhatkas-matkas, cheap jokes, rehashed clichés and all? Weren't they better than what now passes for "new-age cinema" or masquerades as "mass entertainment"? 

Do films really portray real-life? Is reel-life actually inspired by or borrowed from real-life? Or is reel-life a powerful vehicle, instrument and medium - for creating multiple mindsets, one that has been utilized to the hilt? 

As usual ... you decide.

The charm of the classics: be it movies, books or music have not diminished, even after many decades ... and they will most certainly retain their allure after the passage of several more decades. Then why is there a dearth of such movies, books or music (conveniently ascribed to 'changing tastes of Gen X', 'market dynamics' and the like) ?? Why is there a sudden 'paucity of funds'?

What do you think? [Always keep your thinking cap handy - to bring out the mini-Sherlock Holmes in you :)]

Well ... I guess we have discussed enough about movies; lets get back to the television fare of yore.

Some of DD's shows targeted at children (but enjoyed by viewers of all ages) were: Fairy Tale Theatre (that featured all-time favourites like: Beauty and the Beast, Jack and the Beanstalk, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, Pinocchio, etc); Dada Dadi Ki Kahaaniyan, Vikram Betaal, Singhasan Battisi, Indradhanush, Space City Sigma, Stone Boy, Malgudi Days, Tenali Rama, Potli Baba Ki, Superhuman Samurai Cyber Squad, Knight Rider, Street Hawk and a suspense-horror serial - Qile ka Rahasya (1989). 

Rex Smith (astride the all-black mesmerizing mean machine) - was played by Jesse Mach. We diligently watched every episode, and that does say it all, doesn't it? :) Do have a look:

Seema Kapoor, actor and TV personality Annu Kapoor's sister and acclaimed actor Om Puri's first wife, helmed the very popular 'Qile Ka Rahasya'. How the jealous, egoistic and insecure Om Puri destroyed her and her very promising career - are stuffs that legends are made of. But I wish this legend were not made; and those of you that have watched this serial would agree, won't you?

I'm still shaking my head though.

[Annu Kapoor is the guy who played Sridevi's editor in Mr. India.]

R.K. Narayan's "Malgudi Days" continue to charm and perhaps DD still telecasts all of the 39 episodes off and on. But there are CDs and DVDs for the ones (like moi) that cannot wait until DD decides to re-telecast them. Here's My Reflections on 'Malgudi Days' and Malgudi: How a village was transformed into R.K. Narayan's fabled town - from the blog archives.

Malgudi Days was and is not the usual comic production. The idyllic setting, innocent characters having small problems, and only imaginary demons to contend with, leave one wishing for such a charmed and laid-back life. When, at the end of an episode, a problem is resolved, one feels contented. A sense of happy satisfaction is the ultimate test of a quality comedy. But can we say: Give us more?! 

Well, you and I both know the answer to that one.

'Malgudi Days' remains one of the most loved, nostalgic television series of all times. I have shared my thoughts in my two earlier posts on Malgudi (links provided above) and therefore ain't deliberating on it again. But this is what my friend Rajdeep had to say: "Malgudi Days has been one of my favorite books over the years. We identify ourselves with those stories. The present generation X does not seem to. They will miss the treasure not us. Unfortunately most of the good books do not have translations in foreign languages. I actually gifted a copy of "Malgudi" to my university library here, though I doubt anyone would ever read it!" [Rajdeep was referring to the library of a well-known University in Japan.]

This, while certain "ist" and "ism"-based writers seem to have no shortage of translators and publishers; no matter how cringe-worthy their works are. *Sigh*

The spicier the contents, the longer the line of translators and publishers - outside their homes and offices; the more coloured, fantasy and figment of imagination-inspired their works on history, the more the takers - and all of them then jointly flood our bookstores and airwaves. Result??

Post the unbottling of the much-vaunted liberalization genie, television has not been indulging in profound issues or even simple entertainment; it keeps doling out stupefying doses of frivolities. The inane soaps churned out sap the intellect and wearies the soul. And, since the entertainment industry caters to the lowest common denominator, it cannot afford to be cerebral. Or so we have been told; and the ones that tell, expect us (viewers) to accept this logic and be 'understanding' too.

Sadly, ever since the almost-namesake of 'Kyunki Chaach Bhi Kabhi Dahi Thi' hit our cable airwaves, all we have been receiving are perfectly coiffed and made-up dolls - glittering sarees, elbow-length churiyan, big bindis, high-heel stilettos, wedge or beaded sandals and all ... preparing tea at the crack of dawn (read: in the blue predawn hours). Perhaps to wake up the roosters for their morning cock-a-doodle-doo, or maybe that too has been outsourced - to this churiyan-brigade. Who knows?

(Stay tuned…)

Pictures: 1. Pic1 - Keshto Mukherjee and Utpal Dutt in Golmaal (1979). 2. Pic2 - Jeremy Brett (as Sherlock Holmes from "The Problem of Thor Bridge". 3. Pic3 - Feluda and Topshe - sketch by Satyajit Ray. 4. Pic4 - Soumitra Chattopadhyay as Feluda (in Satyajit Ray's Shonar Kella). 5. Pic5 - Rex Smith (astride the mesmerizing mean machine) - played by Jesse Mach. 6. Pic6 - R.k. Laxman's sketch for 'Malgudi Days'; don't remember the link :(