Saturday, December 26, 2009


another gem of a feel good movie by rajkumar hirani, 3 idiots is loosely based on 5.someone.
starring amir khan in the lead role of a 20 year old guy, the movie revovles around what bright guys do once they get in a professional college. theme is fairly simple, but plot as well as script are finely crafted, makin it a true entertainer with lots of laughs and emotional showdowns. i had read indian express review which said amir looks a tad senile for a collegeite.. and the movie is only a cut above average.
but i found amir lookin youthful, not a day above 20. he has absolutely gotten under the skin of his role.. a 20 year old lively guy whose whacky, yet focussed deep within.. who is comic yet sensitive.. who know where he wants to go in life but yet has his feet firmly planted on the ground. just like taare zameen par, amir khans unique ability to understand the character of his role makes this silver screen adventure seem very real and believable.
the director and writer have done a great job. movie is well paced, filled with infinite momments and wisecracks.. casting is impeccable. each character in the movie carries his role well, and there are no loose ends in the plot. while the writer does borrow bits of inspiration from 5 point someone throughout the plot, he has added lots of twists and jokes makin it a different story altogether. sharman joshi, madhavan, kareena and boman irani are perfect for their roles.. needless to say.. i believe THREE IDIOTS is a must see!

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

shambhuraje the play.

as you might know i am not a huge follower of the drama scene. but i happened to get my hands on a pass for drama fest, first of which was shambhu raje.
i skipped dinner and rushed to the venue, feelin a lil selfconscious that i might be the only person going to a play ALONE. i am not really punctual guy except on rare occaissions. and as i did manage to reach on time, a standard one hour delay was a huge turn off.
anyhow, the play starred dr amol kolhe as the protagonist, the prince sambhaji bhosale, narrating his side of the story, or rather,the history.
in the first half, the director attempts to potray how sambhaji was made a scapegoat of raj-niti...politics of the kings court,his agony about having to live up to the legend that his dad was and his sense of being deprived a father son relationship.
well it was agonising no doubt, but because it felt like mr kolhe was not doing justice to the role. the dialogue delivery failed to build up intensity, and the characters all seemed badly casted.i had to constantly fight the urge to get up and leave.
and this was the state for first 30-45 minutes. then gradually th story picked up pace. still at interval i coudlnt help but wonder whether the play was worth my time, effort and money.
at interval, shivaji's wife n courtiers have made sambhajis life hell. sambhaji is caught up in two controversial rape sentences. after being denied the chance to campaign for karnataka with his glorious warrior-statesman father, he's banished to govern a less prestigious konkan territory. sambhaji is crestfallen. he decides to break free and join enemy forces.. with the motive that he shall meet his father eye to eye only after proving himself. all through out, sambhaji never disrespects his dad but he is in despair that his father wont treat him like a son or crown prince, but a pervert criminal.
and then its interval.
post interval sambhaji is now the crown prince of swaraj. his brother rajaram with his stepmom have not succeeded in their evil plans to usurp his kingdom. he has placed em both under house arrest.shivaji is dead. and its celebration time cuz hes the king.
from this point onwards, the play took a giant leap from a rather drab story to a fantastic combination of script, direction and terrific acting.
the plot remained rather simple, but it unfolded beautifully. mr kolhe must have put his soul in his performance.. cuz the result was nothin short of a masterpiece. sambhaji himself, his loyal mama and his poet make a terrific punch of gaiety, friendship and heroism to the story. the characters come alive, dialogues set the audiences hearts afire and you remained glued to your seats empathising what'd happen to sambhaji next. even the charaters and motives of villains are weaved into the story, so that the play stays real and mental debates about whose right or wrong keep getting fuelled.
the director sparked it up so well that i was worried another riot may break out in miraj.
anyhow, the play ends with the tragic capture of sambhaji, and how he chose valour over cowardice, endured torture n died a martyr's death. the director absolutely succeeds in telling his story cuz he converts this tragic tale of death and despair into a exciting tale that inspires courage, endurance and honour in everyone who sees it.
overall, a very good play.. but thats after you manage to sustain through the first 45 minutes.
and technically, theres some flaws.
cynical as i always am, i see the real story as.. sambhaji might have been a talented scholar and a good warrior, but he was a pervert who raped two women and then pleaded that he was being framed. conveniently both his victims commited suicide so there was no scope for cross examination. he lusted for power like any other prince. when denied, he joined the enemy. having had his fill of conquests and a welcome banner from back home.. he switched sides again when the time was right. this leaves one last question unanswered.. why did he choose gettin his eyes gouged and a death from torture, when he had the option of switching sides again to ensure survival.
to do one right thing in life?

Thursday, December 17, 2009

dr g s kulkarni

nischyayacha mahameru
bahut janansi aadharu
akhand stithi cha nirdharu
surgeon yogi!

for those who dont understand marathi.. it means
the strong steadfast and great pinnacle of a decision maker
the caretaker, the helper, the support to the lives of many people.
the person who understands the situation in its entirety, and blazes a trail through it.
a surgeon. a saint.
this poem was composed by a great marathi literateur for the great king shivaji. i just played with words to describe what a surgeon should be. to describe the surgeon ive been fortunate to observe.

Friday, September 11, 2009

the story of a riot.

'll try n not take sides here.
day one. hindu ganpati celebrations make a decoration of shivaji killing afzalkhan. miraj muslims take offence. the whole ganpati mandap was destroyed. the idol of ganpati vandalised.
day two. hindus wreck menace. one masjid was attacked.
day two. muslims strike back. pieces of meat found thrown in ganpati mandir.
day three. hindus piss in a masjid. they destroyed the masjid furniture. curfew imposed.
day four. hindus destroy muslim property includin a orthopedic hospital and a popular non vegrestaurant frequented everyday by both sects. theres few more gross crimes by either sides, but i rather not gossip about em.
day two, three, four - innocent people are lathi charged and badly beaten by the cops, regardless of whether people are travelling to work, or school
everytime the curfew was lifted for an hour, people made a rush for daily commodities.
the bright side of this was, our OPD, which is perennially filled with backaches and knee joint pains was empty for a change, and my daily activities were almost falling in the humane working scale.
a medical professor dies of heart attack, which was provoked when he was beaten up by the cops. patients discharged from our hospital were also abused.
curiously, votebank politics has played a major part, minorities being protected more.
finally, now the situation has come under control. things are cooling down.
around 40% of people around me have a hand to mouth existence, daily wage basis.
i wonder how many of them slept hungry for the last one week.
and i wonder what parts per million people actually feel there is something to be learnt from this.

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

god and religion

sometimes i feel, your idea of god, and your worship, is an utterly private affair.its not somethin to socialise about, or publicise about.
thats why, when most people ask me, i just say 'm an atheist. so that they dont bug me no more by invites of poojas and artis. i mean prayers.
but whats worse, even bein an atheist becomes a tag. a label.
in india, religion and even caste is a medium of bonding. i had a friend who'd end up bein buddies with everyone who was remotely a maroo. still member him strikin conversations with absolut strangers on basis of places of origin of his ancestors, who died before his father was even concieved.
we all know how this has its pros and cons. but shouldnt a man worship passionately.. sacred is where no one and nothin impure can venture. so why pollute the sacred. isnt worship but a form of love life? a self realisation? somethin personal?
maybe others dont see it this way.

Thursday, August 6, 2009


when i grew up, i was crazy about pets.. especially dogs!
i felt 'm good at making friends with animals.. any damn dog, however gruesome, i'd pet it in no time. i sometimes had a narcisst feeling about this, i imagined that dogs had an innate sixth sense to judge a mans morality.. that dogs were friendly to good people.
passionately.. i read books on training dogs, dog-story novels n saw many dog movies. my dad even let me get a mongrel- a dog with a pedigreed alsatian mom called julie n dubious paternity. i relished every momment of bringing my dog up.. from mornin jogs and immunisation and bathing the dog to pickin up his poo from near our door and mending destroyed furniture. definitely some happy great memmories and great times together. the hilt was naming the dog buck, yeah, vide call of the wild. some years later the dog met with a fatal accident and i had the honour of buryin him. my love for dogs was still unquenched, and i remained a true blue canine fan.
however, unknowningly, of late, i dont love dogs.. n dont care about pettin those handsome creatures. the more world i see, the less has my liking for dogs become.
dogs love unconditionally. a dog loves you regardless of what you are. and now, i have begun to detest this. i have begun to believe that unconditional love is unworthy of appraisal. if i want to be loved, it should be for what i am, not regardless of what i am. this is not really an ego trip. i know i am a contorted twisted wierdo, and with ugly shades of my own.. not unlike any other meanie you'd find in a slum. but thats me. i dont want someone to wag his tail cuz he eats out of my hand and stays under my shelter.
probably, a honest hate and contempt is worthier than unjustified, blind or faked love.

Friday, July 24, 2009


it was a overcast evening n i was walkin back home from work in a darkly lit alley.
i saw a shady person tryin to search somethin on the road, by the roadside light. i took a better look and realised this guy is known to me.
outta sheer curiosity, "hey, whatchya doing?"
him-"i 'm tryin to find something"
me- " what are you looking for?"
him- " i slipped and fell.. n lost my keys"
tryin to help, i started lookin too.
n then i asked, " where did you slip??"
he pointed to a place farther off, in the pitch dark part of the road.
so i said," then why are you lookin for it here?"
said he.." its easier to look for it down here."
people start looking for solution where they fell, instead of lookin where they slipped.
its looking for the solution in the wrong places.

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

stupid monkeys, and men

heres an experiment i read in ganong physiology.
surgically an electrode is implanted in the pleasure centre of the limbic system in monkeys brain. it is connected to a lever which the monkey can manipulate to generate pleasureable impulses. the monkey is then caged n observed.
initially, the monkey experiments with the lever tikk eventually, he discovers how to please himself.
as he learns, he begins to manipulate the lever more often, to get more pleasure.
once he's familiar with the technique, the lever takes over his activities.. and he gives up food, water and sleep, continually pressin the lever.. even if it ultimately leads to his death.
in common parlance, we call this phenomenon addiction

Tuesday, July 21, 2009


this weekend i heard a wise man say " one way to ensure being successful is to copy someone who is successful". frankly, to me, it sounds somewhat cheap.
but then, in retrospect, its a simple solution.. whenever faced with a situation of a difficult choice, guess this way i can look at the problem objectively.but then this is at the cost of orignality.. like me losing out a first hand version of myself while tryin to be a second hand version of someone else.
but then this doesnt make sense either, cuz..
1. life throws each of us in unique circumstances, which are never the same as anyone else's. and 2. we ourselves are so damn unique combination of various ingredients, that we are orignal in ourselves. projection can only alter my perception, n not my true self.
so,i figure, this probably is an advice to only steer away from the state of bein depraved. when focussed, your own momentum is enough to help you decide in life.
and then i had another brainwave, always think of two people instead..i.e. also think of what the man you hate/disapprove or despise would do. cuz sometimes, i myself might be doing things that i'd despise in third person.

Monday, July 20, 2009

new york

for anyone who cares for a free opinion- watch new york.
the first time i saw it in a good cinema hall, i loved the plot, the screenplay, the cast, acting and music.
and then i did a rare stunt, i saw the same movie for a second time, again in a theatre, in the same week.
i had done the same thing with sarfarosh.. the aamir movie. believe me, the only reason i sat through the whole movie second time was my date;)
but new york was an amazing experience when i saw it the second time. i appreciated the international look of the movie better. its made to cater to a global audience. the movie is incredibly well paced, so much so that i didnt have a momment of boredom throughout.
because i was no longer wonderin "what happens next?".. i relished finer points.. like irfans awesome dialogue delivery and voice modulation that makes casting him in a powerful role so effective. when you see it the first time, you almost ignore him. your too occupied with th lead actors and the story. he comes in, does his job well, n steps out. as you'd want a side-actor in important role to be. when you see it the second time.. you realise the skill and perfection he has put in to get his role done. kudos irfan.
another nice part about the movie is the story and direction, how small little pieces get threaded together into the plot that keep the movie going. eg. katrinas driver speeding, killin the white cop, commiting suicide- helps you see the protagonists point of view against the system. but incidentally irfan khan turnin at the crime scene and katrina noticing his presence and then seein neil mukesh with him.. leads to the story progress further, albiet at slightly slow pace.
i'm still not comfortable with th ending, but i cant point out why. i love tragedies per se. but the ending somehow didnt fit in. the director does his job by justifying the end.. the son of a terrorist living a normal life with no strings attached. but its paradoxical, considering what was done to his father..who was forced to deviate from his goals n ways of life.
with all said n done, my bottomline is even more tragic.when i finally finished watching th movie the second time.. a thought came to my mind and its been puzzling me ever since..
this movie is almost too good to be an orignal bollywood movie. i wonder which english flick they copied it from? no kidding.

Sunday, July 19, 2009


on a rainy weekend afternoon, i was sittin by this coffee shop by the road, with a lazed thoughtless mind.. and i noticed a beggar havin his cuppa on the pavement.. and an artist havin his.. on the table next to me. n i wondered what their lives must be like.
a beggar, emotionlessly, egolessly pickin up everythin that comes his way.. crushed under the wheels of the commerce of this world.. makin ends meet bit by bit.. penny by penny.

an artist, driven only by passion of beauty, emotions, colors and expression, almost beyond the realm of give and take, beyond the shackles of commerce.
or so it seems.
to perceive and paint the beauty of, for instance, that unique sunset,
the candid play of vibrant colors in the sky,the unusual shapes of the clouds, the flurry of colorful birds returning to their nests, the play of light on mountains and tree tops, the silhouttes of his lovers hand entwined in his.. with wind blowin through their hair..experiencing the ecstacy of that 'perfect sunset'.
strong emotions, romantic memmories, observations, conviction, imagination, tedious labour and talent go into the making of that one single painting, scuplture or a work of art.
the masterpiece.
and then its time to sell it...the artist explaining to his buyer at what he saw, how he felt while he painted it; trying in vain to make the buyer see what he sees in the painting.
after a great deal of difficult conversation, haggling and bargaining, this painting is 'SOLD' and then

proudly adorns the living room of the prosperous industrailist.
it proves his ability to spend, and of knowing 'a wise investment' when he sees one.

and then suddenly, even the life of the beggar seems tolerable.


as usual,
my job is of corelation,not composition..
methinks th foll rhyme was made in relevance to reservations..

gandhi the visionary

gandhi mustta been a man of great learning and foresight, and i truly appreciate his vision.
in 1942, he said, quit india.
still holds true.
poverty, corruption, reservations, communalism and dirty politics.
hence the truth. quit india man.

satyameva jayete

the untold love story

those were th adenturous days of youth, days when i was a fresher in college...

days of strength n independence, days when i'd never believe, i would fall for, or grow dependent on, someone. or something.
and then i met her.
clad in exquisite white, she was hanging out with my seniors. i cant say i had not seen her before, but it was NOW that i got attracted,
attracted STRONGLY,
by her her style! i was smitten!
call it my luck, my senior noticed the look in my eyes. he introduced us.
n then began, in rosy haze of youth, a whirlwind courtship.
some said i was besotted. .or bewitched.
but no one knew, i 'd fallen forever, then n there.
sometimes i'd show off her company, although knowing within it'd be adjudged bad company by our self righteous society..
n sometimes steal chances to be alone with her..between lectures, behind th canteen, or at th movies..
not even exams could keep us apart. i'd call it a break from studies, a refreshment, a reward.. however i rationalised, i couldnt help myself! somethin had changed in me.probably i'd crossed a line which i could never "uncross" again.
still remember the awe on faces of some, and the glaring disapproval about her on some. always a rebel, i ignored em. but i kept telling myself that we'd part after college, n she'd be history.
but i never let go.
couldnt let go in those frustrating days of job hunting, days spent doing odd jobs n days of self doubt. money was hard to come by, and so was peace of mind.
but she was always there; when i needed her in my solitude, to help me think, to help me plan my life, to help me dream.
but i never told my mom bout her, or any other elders.
there wasnt any point. it was certain they'd disapprove of her.
so i never discussed, and they never asked. n time moved on.i got my job, n began the slow climb up the corporate ladder.
and then, one day, mom asked me to get married. mom said this pretty, well educated and homely daughter of mr. very-rich was willing, and so was i. i got married.
however i still didnt stop seeing her. behind th wife's back...
at odd times n odd places..
we kept meeting.
she was just there when i needed her.
something this intense, n this old doesnt stay concealed. the wife found out!
she broke down, threw tantrums, cried like a baby.. made me feel as guilty as shit.
but i just couldnt let go.
finally the wife gave up. rather, she came to terms with something that had come in my life
before her.
eventually, with matrimony ensued children. but my affair wont die out either, not even when i had kids of my own
my mistress was my obsession now, she was now my lifestyle: my personality. she was ME. rather, i was becoming hers, nothing but hers.
in my victories, in my defeats,
in my celebrations, and in mournings,
in silence and noise,
or in solitude and crowd,
if there was one constant... it was her.
and why not? she was there, always by me.
sometimes my wife caught us in my own house, and verbal rapes ensued.
sometimes my kids saw me with her, and shot innocent questioning glances.
but mostly i was a responsible dad..
and i never realised... never knew WHEN i went overboard.
till i had a white letter in my mail.
a white letter that said i had cancer, a cancer beyond cure.
they said it was cuz of her.

think you know her name.
they call her a 'CIGARETTE'

the devils advocate

what is th best combination of the following qualities..
1. physical prowess.
2. supreme intelligence
3. killer instinct.
4. strong commitment to self and a disregard for authority.
5. love for leading life on the edge.
6. risking all you have on the line for the thrill and the profit, and keeping winning at it.
sort of the best stuff human race has to offer..?
a single broad category that fits is criminals.. con artists, pirates, mercenaries, robbers, mobsters, murderers.
n now, for sake of experiment,
isolate these guys, breed these guys amongst themselves for some generations. distill the antisocial element away through civilisation. what do you get?

aggressive, strong, team players, perfectionists.
australia was for long a penal colony where criminals were sent into.. sort of saza-e-kala-pani. even papillon and shantaram were so.
andnow, think of any th aussie team definitely has a niche. th defence rests

men and women

we often wonder about how different a man is to a woman.. psychologically, behaviourally.. n not just physically.. altho both are forms of same species.
n then i heard in a sitcom..
women want everything in ONE man.
men want one thing from EVERY
but then, th explanation revolves around..
1. leader of th pack instinct in men
2. maternal. sortta familial instinct in women
3.women producing a single emissary to next generation, the ovum, over 28 days.precious
4. men producing 300 million of those every day. aplenty.

psychology can be so basic. just have to keep eyes open.

unsung heroes

what IF you dont get credit for what you do?
what IF your skill is appreciated but unrewarded?
what IF you know your right,BUT by hindsight, and dont have textbook references to say so?
'm just

openin my eyes in orthopedics. but i realise already, this is the bitter element of it. so many of accomplished surgeons today have that secret hero behind them, the jadugars with their life in that secret popat.....
their incredible, and unqualified ASSISTANT.


back in 2006, i'd deserted this site in favor of yahoo. primary reason being it tied my messenger n blog together. bad decision. i blog 'moodily' not regularly. but i blog. n now yahoo tells me its shuttin off 360, like they are cramped for freakin cyberspace. they did the same to yahoo photos. ridiculous. okay they lemme host for free.but apparently i generate traffic in readin this is evidence enough.fair deal. well 'm glad my blogs didnt exactly evaporate in cyberspace, they let me save back. n thus bottomline is, i moved.

'm back.