Let's Be Fair!

The current online Indian matrimonial advertisements surprise me with their adherence to the age-old "Fair & Slim" requirement. Have they seen Bipasha Basu lately, I wonder. I don't mean to suggest that people should set "Dark & Overweight" as their standards. However, I do disagree with the instant labelling of fair as beautiful in Indian society. Over time, I have seen, beaked noses, thin lips, bushy eyebrows, lacklustre smiles and even a slight squint, being dismissed in the face of fairness, quite literally.

When I was eleven years old, browsing through the daily newspaper's matrimonial classified section caused me great anxiety. I was not fair and according to the 'Brides Wanted' column, was probably going to end up an old maid. Everybody wanted a fair bride!

Around this time a supposedly magical face cream called Fair & Lovely was sweeping the classrooms at my girl's school.
Television commercials for Fair & Lovely had led me to believe that my wheatish complexion would not only damage my chances at romance but could even hinder my career. According to the advertisements, being light skinned was a professional credential as well. Alarmed, I begged my mother to let me buy a tube of Fair & Lovely. But my well-established and customary argument of "Everybody uses it" was not good enough for my mother.

She pursed her lips and looked at me from above her glasses as she graded exams.

"Find three things about yourself that matter more than the shade of your complexion and write an essay on them" she commanded firmly, like the teacher she was, even as I groaned my reluctance.

"Do it," she said, "Someday you will thank me"

The following week, I gathered evidence to convince my mother of how buying Fair & Lovely was going to ensure my future happiness.

1. The matrimonial classified section was Exhibit A.

2. A pamphlet of Fair & Lovely that showed a gradual lightening of skin color in a very demonstrative picture was Exhibit B.

3. And of course, a few pictures of Bollywood actresses, were Exhibit C.

One by one, my mother steadily demolished my case.

"The matrimonial section is not the only place to find a groom and besides, that should not be reason enough for you to try and change yourself" she stated in one breath.

Exhibit B was thrown out faster than I could say Fair & Lovely.

"Skin pigmentation cannot be reversed" she scoffed, flicking the pamphlet aside.

Then came the Bollywood actresses. Honestly, as my mother looked at each of their pictures and commented, I felt less sorry for myself and more so for them.

"That", she said pointing an incriminatory finger at one of the pretty faces, "is war-paint!"

I could almost see the actresses' lips begin to quiver and quickly returned them to my drawer.

"I am not beautiful", I bawled, finally giving way to the tears I had been holding back.

"Yes, you are!" my mother said looking genuinely surprised at my sudden outburst, "And you don't need a face cream pamphlet or a classified section for brides to tell you that."

"But I am dark!" I protested vehemently.

"Dusky" she said, raising her eyebrows enigmatically, making it sound so much better than it really was.

A few years later, in the early 90s, Karishma Kapoor made her debut and all everybody could talk about was how fair she was and of course the light eyes were just gorgeous. This was also the year, in which I inadvertently formed my first independent opinion, irrespective of what of my classmates and chummies thought. Unfortunately, Ms. Kapoor, through no real fault of hers, was at the receiving end.

"I don't really think she's very pretty", I announced to the study group gathered at my house.

They were stunned. From the corner of my eye, I could see my mother begining to look in our direction with sudden interest.

"Well, my mother says she is fair and pretty", one of the girls added, in an attempt to influence my opinion.

"I think she looks like Randhir Kapoor without a moustache", I said, a tad cruelly and not willing to back down.

The girls exchanged glances.

"But she is so fair", one of them tried, puzzled by my obvious dismissal of her skin color while assessing her beauty.

I simply shrugged. The rest of the study session continued uninterrupted by the usual banter about films, actors and actresses.

After the girls left, sulking a little, my mother and I sat in our living room, munching on samosas and watching with growing interest as a sultry Sonbai became the object of a lecherous tax collector in Mirch Masala.

"So who do you find beautiful?" my mother asked her voice heavily tinged with curiosity.

"Her", I answered, gesturing towards the screen just as Smita Patil's kohl-lined eyes appeared.

I was over to the dark side.

Cinema, Cinema

Comedy is dangled,
A rare delicacy, when well done,
at the hungry mouth,
Of my humor;
Quirks, habits,
Small joys that crinkle eyes,
And the horrific truths that unravel faces,
Pull lose, the knots of my brow.

Childhoods, in flashbacks,
and the mothers,
that made these characters,
Make appearances often
In sessions with therapists,
As they lie on a couch, defenseless,
While I sit up, suddenly interested,
In this undeniable common ground.

The fiddle of a violin,
Ocassionally takes, a tricky, long drag
At the strings of my heart,
Only to be hooked, painfully,
On a throbbing vessel,
Mid-note.

Odd angles, fixated on
Jutting temples and relentless jaws,
Tears, wrinkles,
A single unsaid word, hangs uncertain
In the excruciating silence of my rapt regard,
Seizing and freeing my imagination,
all at the same time,

Orgasmic peals of abandon,
Rush, like blood, to my cheeks,
Failed experiments with love and sex,
All tumble out and take shape,
right here, in my living room,
In a palpable silver haze,
That falls on my face like a spotlight,
Bringing me their stories,
And somewhere in them,
My own.

It is then
that I am no longer looking at a screen,
But at the most spellbinding
Mirror of sorts.

The Shapiro Writing Festival In Snapshots

An evening in the midst of some of the most fascinating people one could find within an academic setting, was more than I could ask for when I was selected for a workshop at the University Of Toledo's Shapiro Writing Festival. At Libby Hall, the stone building with its old world feel, a fire smoldered in the back of the room, as the literary and creative minds at the University started arriving.

On the very first day at dusk, we were treated to a poetry reading by Mr.Tyehimba Jess. He read with passion and fervor, some beautiful poetry from his National Poetry Series award winning collection titled, 'leadbelly'. His poems traced the history of blues legend, Huddie William Ledbetter (Leadbelly) and the music that tempered his violent life. This was my first experience with 'performance poetry' where biographical allusion brought out the truth in each monologue making them as real as words could ever be. In particular, I was in awe of the monologues where Mr.Jess's poetry employed a woman's voice to recount some of the poignant events in Leadbelly's life. His tone, the unfeigned articulation of the dialect, made the poetry sublime and palpable at the same time, evoking goosebumps throughout the reading. Each poem was followed by resounding applause.

The second day, was an inspiring talk by Ms.Lisa Lieberman Doctor whose career as a development and production executive in Los Angeles at Universal Pictures, Warner Brothers and Tristar Pictures, brought eager students, some much needed insight into professions in the television and film industry. She read out pointers and letters outlining the pathway to success for budding writers, from her associates, all of whom are established executives and producers in the industry. Her warmth, approchability and experience, made the talk and the Q&A session, especially engaging.

The talk by Ms.Lieberman Doctor, was followed by an open mic poetry reading where I had the opportunity to read three short poems from an unpublished collection, that I will be sending out for publication in June. The feedback I received at the end of my reading was heartening and this experience also familiarized me with the styles of some of the other poets who read their work that evening.

The gala event hosted on Saturday saw snowfall in April. In the cozy ambience of Libby Hall, participants of the 24-hour Shapiro play-writing workshop performed their play for an open audience. The acclaimed actress and Interim Dean of Arts and Sciences, Ms.Sue Ott Rowland, performed a dramatic monologue titled 'Nostalgia'. Dinner was accompanied by the soulful music played by guitarist Ed Levy, the coordinator of the guitar program and Lecturer at the University of Toledo.

On Love, Marriage & Flannel Pajamas...

Does life ultimately teach us that the portrayal of love and marriage in films, is far from accurate? Yes, it does, cruelly so. But finally, we have a film that gives us that long overdue and honest look at relationships. Jeff Lipsky's 'Flannel Pajamas' does not stop at the 'girl meets boy and sparks fly' scenario and actually goes on to explore the uncomfortable albeit real dimensions of a relationship that are so often lost to romance in conventional cinema.

Director Jeff Lipsky sketches some very authentic characters who draw you in immediately and keep you intrigued till the very end. The script is remarkably interesting, considering the wordiness of some of the dialogues. Mr.Lipsky uses prejudice, religion and human flaws to temper and add believability to the romance. Interestingly, he uses as the story's setting, New York city, the birthplace of several Hollywood romantic flicks.

Stuart (Justin Kirk) and Nicole (Julianne Nicholson) meet on a blind date and their relationship follows the gradual culmination into a steady romance and then, of course, into marriage. While portraying a couple that is blissfully oblivious to their evident differences, the director has managed to provoke cynicism in the audience by putting out some very apparent issues that they are ignoring, blinded by emotion, just as we do, when we are the ones in the middle of the emotional circus and friends and loved ones are hollering at us to beware.

Stuart and Nicole have very different careers and temperaments; like all couples they come with their share of baggage. While Nicole is a homely girl whose many associations with friends and family define her, Stuart is a man who wants to protect her, live with her in an insulated world where he can be, in his own words, her 'knight in shining armor'. This works well, until of course, Nicole no longer needs to be saved, especially from the people who she loves to surround herself with.

He dislikes sharing her with her friends and she is bothered by the lack of emotional openness he so valiantly shrouds with voluble and self-descriptive monologues. When they first meet, Stuart is a guy who loves to talk about himself and is happy with his line of work. Nicole on the other hand is at a stage where she is dissatisfied with her present career but has some dreams she wants to pursue. This I found quite interesting. I believe, that as human beings we are not ourselves entirely until we find that niche in life, in term of careers, hobbies, friends, social lives, or anything that influences us fundamentally at a personal and emotional level. If these aspects of our life are still unripe, we change and the people who fell in love with us when we were twenty, are left wondering what the hell happened.

Self-actualization for a man is very different from that for a woman. A woman derives her confidence or self-worth from her accomplishments whereas men, I think, are able to compartmentalize and distinguish between material or personal investments. Hence, it might actually be a good idea, to say the least, for men to find a woman, who has in essence, achieved a majority of what she would like to do with her life.

This film made me think. Does giving a lot of yourself neccessarily ensure the success of the relationship? I also wondered about how people fall into relationships without having solid discussions regarding religion, children, home, lifestyle and careers. Stuart and Nicole display some identifiable reactions to some very probable circumstances. Their intimacy, their flaws and even their beliefs are all ones we can relate to. Watching their relationship metamorphosize through a range of complications such as emotional demands, a suicide in the family, parent's illnesses and a miscarriage even, suddenly brings home the responsibility and depth of marriage.

A friend of mine once commented that couples who meet when they are older, are more likely to have a successful marriage. She rationalized that since they have been alone and independent long enough, they would know what is important to them and hence are likelier to discuss these issues before the 'I Do's'. I wasn't convinced. It could also make them less willing to compromise, I argued. I found myself wondering why it is that we see people go through similar experiences and yet never seem to learn from them.

And then suddenly, it happened. I caught within this film, the cleverly inserted, poignant metaphor for marriage, in a seemingly simple scene. Looking out of a 36th floor window, Nicole's sister comments to Stuart about how beautiful the view of New York city is. "It is a contradiction", he replies, "the view from the 36th floor, versus what it looks like, standing in the middle of the street". This is when I realized that the view from within a relationship is quite different from that on the outside. As bystanders, we can all rationally evaluate other people's decisions and choices. However, once our emotions come into play, our reasoning somehow gets sadly but understably hindered.

I recommend this film for all those who plan to be in relationships that they hope will eventually culminate into marriage, for all those who have a starry-eyed view of love and might be setting themselves up for a rude reality check, for those who think of themselves as pragmatists but have a vulnerability that could steal that solid practicality from right under their rooted feet, for those who have borrowed their ideas of love and marriage from watching movies or their parents' marriages and for those who belong to none of the aforementioned categories but are looking to watch a story about love, that holds true in the real world. Now, that is essentially everybody, isnt it?

Watching 'The Namesake' in Ohio

This weekend, I happened to see a preview of 'The Namesake' and having read Jhumpa Lahiri's book I now wanted to see what the story looked like to director, Mira Nair. I skipped laundry on Sunday and at seven in the evening found myself in a movie theatre in Ohio watching the journey of an immgirant couple who arrived in the US after an arranged marriage in Kolkata, India. My friend, Seema, who was born and raised in California, accompanied me to the theatre and sat unaware of the effect this film would have on her. This entry is more than just a review it is a personal chronicle detailing my experience of watching 'The Namesake'.

The male protagonist of this film, Gogol Ganguli (Kal Penn), suffers from a common malady, an identity crisis. Born in the US, to Bengali immigrants, Ashok (Irrfan Khan) and Ashima (Tabu), he shirks from all that in reality defines him. Having witnessed Gogol Ganguli's journey of self-acquisition, I decided that I would not review this movie and instead would describe what it was like for me, as an immigrant to watch that film in a theatre surrounded predominantly by elderly white Americans and non-Indians. I felt like I was in a crash course where people were finally forced to learn a little about my culture. The love story of an arranged marriage, the immigrant struggle and the traditions that I so often get asked about were all there in one entertaining story.

I have lived in Ohio for almost five years now. Our city has one Hindu temple and three overpriced Indian grocery stores. Approximately two hundred Indian families reside in this small city and most of them are doctors at the University Hospital in town. Nonetheless, when United 93, the movie about the September 11th plane hijacking was released, I was dealt angry and bitter glances as I exited the movie theatre amidst comments about 'Arabs'. I was very confused and it took me a few minutes to realize that being brown and dark haired in Toledo, qualified me for being an 'Arab'. No matter how much I travel and how many people I meet, ignorance still startles me. I have always felt that experiences lose their relevance when spent on ignorant minds. Hence, I felt oddly exposed as the film reeled in Ashok's arrival as a graduate student in America, his quick arranged marriage to Ashima and their years of acclimatization to life in the US. I was afraid that the message in the film would be lost on the audience.

Irrfan Khan, Tabu and Kal Penn have each given real and honest performances leading the audience to believe that somewhere in New York is the Ganguli residence where these characters actually exist. To those who have read my earlier, entries, it is no secret that I regard Mira Nair as one of the most talented contemporary film directors. Her use of the airport digital displays and flash animation to convey metamorphosis was clever albeit overused. Her execution of applying the implicit to convey emotion was as always, flawless. But at the end of the movie, the one character that makes you laugh and cry with his intelligent portrayal of a reserved but sensitive man, was that of Irrfan Khan's. Through expressions and body language he brought a range of dimensions to the character of Ashok Ganguli.



Although, I thought the portrayal of Moushumi (Zulieka Robinson) was over-villainzed, compared to the one in the book, I believe it is a forgivable flaw considering a two hour film doesn't allow in-depth analysis of each character's psyche. Inspite of this limiting aspect of converting a book into a film, I thought 'The Namesake' did a fine job of exploring character pyschology without losing out on the pace of the movie.

Watching 'The Namesake' in Ohio was such a complex experience in itself, that I would not be able to review the critical and technical aspects of this film as thoroughly as I would like. I could, however, for the pleasure of the reader, describe in great detail, the enlightened expressions on my friend, Seema's face, as she recognized her own personal conflicts in Gogol's character. She laughed as she saw the quirks her parents shared with the Gangulis and cried uncontrollably as she recognized in their simple, hardworking and warm faces, the familiar ones of her immigrant parents. She walked out of the theatre aware and more respectful of the journey her parents had made long before her arrival on the scene.

Seema and I, were the only Indians in the scantily filled theatre and occasionally we could feel a glance or a stare cast our way. At other times, such a situation would've made me uncomfortable or conscious. But Gogol's journey has a message entwined in its story that even the most shallow ones among us couldn't have missed and having wrapped my thoughts around that message, I sat somewhat content and unaffected by any scrutiny. "The Namesake' made me feel like I was home for a while and as the film's tag line says, "The greatest journeys are the ones that bring us home".

Where Art Thou'?

Has anybody ever wondered, where that entire genre of offbeat Indian films disappeared with the advent of the nineties?

The protagonist of these films was somebody, I always felt, I had just met on a train ride in Bombay or had crossed paths with on the busy streets of the city. His love story was not set in the snowy hills of Switzerland and his love interest thankfully resembled somebody I actually knew or would most likely become when I grew up. Where did that common man go and why did he take with him that glorious period of what I liked to call 'the middle-class films'.

It was the late eighties and I was ten when Chashme Baddoor first made its way into the evening feature film slot. This was before the arrival of entire channels that ran back to back movies; it was when Saturdays and Sundays for the middle class meant an evening movie for the family. Doordarshan was the only channel and I can still see my family gathered in the living room as our endearing Crown black & white television set, brought us our precious weekend entertainment. Deepti Naval's homely appeal and Farooq Sheikh's exquisite Urdu coupled with the earthiness of the story's setting left its mark on my impressionable mind. But this was before the cable guys took over town.

Amol Palekar and Vidya Sinha in 'Chhotisi Baat' played out what could only be described as a middle-class love story from a time when arranged marriages were the norm and falling in love was something only actors did on the silver screen. The believable characters of Arun and Prabha brought hope to all the weary Romeos who pursued the objects of their affection on crammed buses during their daily commute to work.

In Golmaal, Amol Palekar quite deftly parodied the 'twin-brothers' (judwa bhai) story that had been hounding Bollywood for quite a while. Utpal Dutt brought the rare physical comedy to simple storylines and his moustached, pompous persona became a legend in these middle-of-the-road features.

Naseeruddhin Shah displayed a magnificent range from Masoom to Mirch Masala and even gave Hindi film history, its cult classic, 'Jaane Bhi Do Yaaron' tinged with satirical shades of dark comedy. Shabana Azmi as the betrayed wife in Arth and as the disloyal albeit vulnerable wife in Ankur, went on to receive attention in both parallel art cinema as well as commercial films, which makes me wonder why actors choose not to do both if it is possible.



There was a time when commercial actors did their share of films that weren't exactly art films but did deviate from the mainstream cinema of the time. For example, Anil Kapoor (Chameli Ki Shaadi), Rekha (Khoobsurat), Tina Munim (Baaton Baaton Mein), Parveen Babi (Naram Garam) and Sanjeev Kuman (Koshish) were all commercially established actors in unconventional roles.

And then there was the sublime Smita Patil who arrived on the scene and demolished the 'fair, light-eyed' stereotype of Indian beauty standards. With kohl-lined eyes, chiseled features and a dignified manner, she portrayed women in a stronger and independent light. She became the female protagonist and brought to Indian cinema, intellectual feminism.

Today, years later, sadly, we are back to square-one, as Aishwarya Rai's physical appearance somehow entitles her to portray the sensitive and articulate character of an Urdu poestess, Umrao Jaan. Her grey eyes and lacklustre smile have made their way into roles that could have been more powerful, had a less glamourous face actualized those characters. In the late 80s, Rekha's portrayal of this very character made her name one with that of Umrao Jaan Ada and Ms.Rai, though very pretty, couldn't have erased or displaced that essence.

Lately, I have had debates with friends and colleagues who argue, "Why should the Hindi film industry cater to Oscar standards?" My point is, what about the standards of the Hindi film industry itself. Let us for a few moments put aside Oscars or even International Film Festivals; how many of us feel comfortable with the portrayal of women and sex in Hindi films? We speak of censor boards and cultural lines, while bosoms are heaved and bottoms are gyrated on the big screen like there was no tomorrow. While the men play brave soldiers, the women are the weeping damsels left behind; while the men are crime fighting heroes, the women are dancing in costumes that leave very little to imagination. Where is the female protagonist? Shouldn't the art of a nation be indicative of its progressive times? Shouldn't we want to have timeless masterpieces that are known for more than just the catchy numbers or the pretty faces? The last time I checked, wholesome entertainment was not equivalent to titilation. One doesn't know who to blame, the filmmakers who don't consider it worth their while to make such entertainers anymore or the artists themselves who shirk art cinema for its richer mainstream counterpart. Is it not obvious that though commercial films bring attention and money, art brings immortality. When crores of rupees are being spent on sets and locations, wouldn't it be only fair for the eclecticists or the few film connoiseurs to be treated with films and stories that bring thought provocation to accompany the stirred senses?

I do believe that every genre has its charm; right from the the rib-tickling Govinda comedies to the masala movies with their tailormade love stories, but I am now realizing with growing dismay that a whole movie genre catering to the middle class, will soon be lost to time. We can only reminisce about films like 'Ek Doctor Ki Maut', 'Rajnigandha' or 'Katha' that dealt with such a gamut of issues but had two major aspects in common: realism and a good story. I long to watch a film that brings me a story I can finally relate to, a story that has the appealing, quirky and yet lovable faces like those of Amol Palekar, Farooq Sheikh, Smita Patil, Shabana Azmi, Deepti Naval and so many others, who entertained us during the 70s and the 80s. I have just about had enough of mega-starrers where the villain is a father opposing his son's/ daughter's marriage. Really? Are we still stuck on that issue?

For me this is more than just about entertainment. It is about role models and the influence of a nation's art on its younger generation. Our nation represents some of the best creative and technological intellect in the world. Then why does our film industry, the world's largest, refuse to cater to this intellectual audience? The portrayal of romance, marriage, love, relationships and people are skewed alarmingly towards the improbable in the majority of present Hindi films. Sure, we don't all look to the movies for advice in these matters and yes, the common man does go to the movies to escape his own life, but when it is so widely declared that art imitates life, who is to say that the converse wouldn't be true. Now, that's a scary thought considering the current popular film genres, isn't it?

***Having said that, I would like to acknowledge the valiant efforts of contemporary filmmakers such as Mira Nair, Aparna Sen, Farhan Akhtar, Vishal Bharadwaj, Onirban, Nagesh Kukunoor and a handful of others in bringing some unique perspective to Indian cinema.***

The Perez Family : A Film By Mira Nair

'The Perez Family' is a story delightfully packaged in some lush colors and spicy sensuality. The people who make up this story, all display in their traits, an array of realistic and interesting foibles whose dimensions director, Mira Nair, generously explores through her keen sense for culturally rich settings.

The film begins with an aristocratic Juan Raul Perez (Alfred Molina) watching his wife and little daughter drift through the ocean as a crab ominously clings to his foot. His reverie is interrupted and we find out that he is in prison during the Castro regime in Cuba in 1980. Juan Perez's sad life is about to change with the entry of Dorita Evita Perez (Marisa Tomei), a Cuban woman who longs for the John Wayne movies and Elvis numbers that fringe American culture. Their journeys converge on a boat to the US where they meet as political refugees heading for freedom. Juan Perez seeks to be reunited with his wife, Carmel (Anjelica Huston) and daughter after 20 years and Dorita Perez seeks the land of rock and roll. As Juan Raul and Dorita Perez feign a marriage to find immigration sponsors, there begins a fun romance with love triangles, mistaken identities and immigration frauds. The pace of the movie is pleasantly controlled without hampering either the flow of the story or the deliberate development of each character.

As always, I will refrain from narrating the whole story since I am hoping the little gist above will have piqued the reader's curiosity. Tomei's wildly sensuous performance coupled with Molina's suave and restrained persona, makes this love story absolutely worth a watch for those who like their romance sufficiently tempered by authenticity and realism. Mira Nair has been most artful in incorporating humor without the farcical buffoonery that plagues romantic comedies. The laughs in this film are summoned most often by the sometimes exasperating but mostly entertaining quirks of each superbly showcased character.

The cast is well-known and yet they bring earthiness to the personas that require it. While the guys will surely fall for the carefree and sentimental Dorita Perez, the gals will find it almost impossible not to swoon over the aloof Juan Raul. And to keep the ocassionally mercurial audience rooted, there are quite a few twists and turns during the course of this film. Mira Nair finds the nooks within a story where humor, drama, raw sensuality and soft romance, all find an appropriate place without making the film excessive and managing somehow to add more definition to the story.

It has been a while since I saw a romantic comedy which wasn't just another 'chick- flick'. So watching 'The Perez Family' was like hungrily biting into some delectable Cuban croquetas while the waves kissed my feet.

What Could Be More Important Than Cricket?!

I have always felt that a nation's mind lies in politics and its heart in its popular sport. Considering this analogy, cricket has always dominated the social scene in India and the players adored like family. Whenever a large populace is so passionate about a game, the players carry the weighty moral responsibility of living upto the expectations of these loyal but reactive enthusiasts. This year, the Indian cricket team bore the brunt of breaking the hearts of an entire nation with their recent ouster from the World Cup Finals. Having turned my back to the cricket scene after the 'match fixing' scandals, I was just starting to trust the game again and this loss was too much for my already compromised convictions about our team. So when I found a relatively unknown movie about cricket peeping from the shelves of a movie rental store, I was reluctant. Nonetheless, I don't know many Indians who could resist a film about cricket and I duly succumbed to those instincts.

Set in the 1960s, in London, 'Wondrous Oblivion' is a film that captures the rare friendship between the an eleven year old Jewish boy, David Wiseman and his new West Indian neighbours. The boy hails from a family of Jewish immigrants himself and upon watching a glorious cricket net being put up in his neighbour's yard, he is drawn towards their home, oblivious to the social issues brewing around him. His love for the sport takes precedence over the bigotry that is hounding his neighbourhood due to the arrival of this fun-loving and large-hearted Jamaican family in a largely white community.

As I watched, I realized that this film was not just about the sport, but more so about how man-made prejudice affects society. The sport was portrayed as the medium that induced the state of 'wondrous oblivion', which I believe has the power to prevent the ethnocentrism that marrs civilization. Moreover, this film was about the parallels in life. The little boy and his love for cricket were representative of the unbiased and indiscriminate acceptance that adults could learn from children.

Cricket is one sport where some of the great names in the history of the game belong to West Indies, South Africa and Asian countries and the Englishman can no longer claim dominance. This sport has on ocassion taken a noteworthy stand on racism and cases of apartheid (Reference: The Basil Lewis D'Oliveira case that resulted in the banning of South Africa from international cricket). Cricket has come along way since then and so has racial equality. 'Wondrous Oblivion' is a heart warming film that does justice to this indomitable spirit of the game and is worth a watch for not only cricket enthusiasts but for anybody who loves a wholesome and entertaining family film.

Having watched this film, while still peeved with the Indian team's performance in this year's World Cup, I learned a few important things from this story. I learned that as human beings we cannot be either entirely guilt-free or completely culpable. At the end of this movie, when the little boy misses his big game at school to lend support to his neighbours, his teammate asks him, "What could be more important than the Cricket Cup?". The eleven year old only smiles. There are things that are a lot more important than the actual sport that make up the integrity of any game. These things may seem idealistic and dismissable but ultimately, our personal victories are defined not by how high we hoist our trophies but by the lessons we learn from our losses.

Blood Diamond

In a few of my past blog entries, I have spoken of the poetry in cinema and the delicate use of metaphors. Last night, I saw a raw and unadorned film; no metaphors, no euphemisms, just the fearfully contorted, bare body of truth that makes us all squirm with unexplainable guilt.

'Blood Diamond' brought to my attention a political situation, I shamefully have to admit, I was unaware of. I have always thought of Africa as a continent blessed with abundant natural resources, lush forests, and sadly, equally cursed with disease and turmoil that has been eating away at its core. 'Blood Diamond' is set in the period of the Sierra Leone Civil War that left an entire nation one of the poorest in the world in 1998. I have seen films that address political unrest, corruption and illegal trades before. What makes 'Blood Diamond' a unique film is that a bias, if any on part of the filmmakers, was almost undetectable. It simply captured each story and delivered it to our attention.

This film delivers the stories of a diamond smuggler, a fisherman and a journalist caught in the tense civil war.

Djimon Hounsou plays the role of fisherman Solomon Vandy whose idyllic life with his family is disrupted by an RUF attack and his son taken away by the rebels as a trainee. While working for the rebels in a diamond mining valley, he finds a rare, pink diamond and conceals it. In a pulsating moment of drama, Vandy is seen by the the rebel captain just before government troops launch an attack.

Leonardo Di Caprio plays Danny Archer, a mercenary who trades arms for diamonds and thus is one of the key players in the 'conflict diamond' equation that funds wars within such nations. The two stories of Vandy and Archer collide in prison when Archer hears the mention of the extraordinary stone that Vandy has possibly buried before his capture by the troops.

Jennifer Connelly in the role of Maddy Bowens, the spirited journalist, is extremely believable and may if I may add quite beautiful sans maek-up. While investigating the illegal diamond trade and covering the war, Bowens meets Archer and their journeys become one.

Above all, this story is about motives. Archer seeks to pay off his debts and leave the continent forever, Vandy wants to find the son he lost to the rebels and Bowens seeks the investigative pieces that make up this drama. This film keeps the audience on their toes as the characters run into government troops, RUF rebels, guerillas and most disturbingly boy-soldiers, at every corner.

Director Edward Zwick nails the extremely difficult task of taming emotion in what could have otherwise been an action thriller. It was imperative that he evoke an emotional response during such a high-power page-turner to make sure he did not lose out on the take home message that needed to be incorporated in the film. Vandy's desperate search for his family, Archer's constant struggle with what he is and what he could be and Bowen's inquisition marred by the bloodshed and corruption around her, made these characters identifiable. The cinematography deftly captures the natural backdrop of Africa without interrupting the film's rousing pace.

During the course of every film, there are what I like to call, 'movie moments'. This film was full of such moments. The script was well written to say the least and made for some very thought provoking dialogue between the characters. The brief appearance by the character of Benjamin, a teacher who runs shelter for the children of war, added ingenuity and guilelessness to a scene so full of strife. An action thriller that provokes sentiments, is rare and at times Zwick did portray what could be interpreted as a historic recount. However, Di Caprio and Hounsou delivered the absolute plausibility of Archer and Vandy's characters and thwarted the possible overdramatization of events.

The candor in this movie hits you rudely in the face on numerous occasions. Vandy asks Bowens if by looking at her coverage of the bloodshed, people in America would come to their aid. "Probably not", she answers plainly and truthfully. For a film that dealt with such a serious issue, humor was surprisingly plentiful. The cynicism in Archer's character and the director's own bitter humor tinged the dialogue. The pertinence of this story in todays' time is brought home with wit during the film when an old man stranded in the middle of a war oddly funded by diamonds, comments, "Let us hope they don't find oil here."

Stories are always made more beautiful and more vital by interpretation. 'Blood Diamond' is the kind of film that shouldn't leave our consciousness when we leave the cinema theatre. Once we are made aware of the facts, what do we do with that knowledge? Introspective questions like these make such films, powerful determinants of our sensitivities as human beings and of the depths of our consciences. Like Benjamin says to Archer, "We are all just people. It is what we do that makes us good or bad."