KBC 2 -- a déja vous of season one?

KBC 2 -- a déja vous of season one? At five minutes to nine last Friday night I was scrambling about the house trying to finish off mundane household chores. When the clock strikes nine I could then, turn couch potato at leisure for one hour – and witness the return of India’s most popular cult quiz show Kaun Banega Crorepati to Indian television screens. I switched my mobile phone (in keeping with cellphone etiquette) to silent mode, and at thirty seconds to nine switched on the telly. And what do I see on my television screen? A pixilated blur of black and white!I did a double take. The last time I saw pixels bump and grind on my television screen was a couple of minutes before the blackout on Terrible, Turbulent Tuesday. How could cable television time out at such a crucial moment in Indian television History? I was raving mad! I switched off the idiot box and sulked for a while, then switch it back only to watch the pixels still buzzing. I repeated this frustrating exercise every five minutes for the next hour or so, and yes, I missed the prized episode, despite turning down umpteen dinner invites, postponing discussions on where to party on this Friday night to post 10 o’clock and other such sacrifices I drowned my sorrows at the local pub in the company of close friends into the wee hours, but was determined to have a contingency plan in place for the next day. Saturday morning, and the cable was still dysfunctional. So, I invited myself over to my neighbour Sana’s place, to catch the next episode. At ten to nine, we parked ourselves in front of the telly, waiting for the show to begin. We reminisced as we heard the KBC signature tune once again and the Big B’s commandeering baritone as he said the words Kaun Banega Crorepati Dwithiya (the last word with extra panache), with aplomb. The Big B looked simply dashing in a suede jacket and with highlights in his hair, a stark contrast to the white French beard. The main participant in this particular episode was a History teacher from amchi Mumbai. She shared with the audience and the Big B (with slightly less humility than was due), that her hubby was a former IITian and had a doctorate. It was apparent that this attitude did not go down too well with the quizmaster (or with us either). She was posed a question to the effect of “What key do you need to use on your computer keyboard to type a capital letter?”. The answer is elementary to many, but baffling to the non-computer savvy, and our History teacher fell into the latter category. The Big B raised an eyebrow, and got a bit saucy as he asked her how she possibly couldn’t know the answer, in spite of imparting knowledge to thousands of students. She asked for a lifeline and managed to make it to the next round and ultimately clocked Rs 6,40,000 at the end of her run, but not without some hiccups along the way and more saucy comments from the Big B. Next, we had a student of engineering who claimed to be a quiz buff and a regular participant of quizzes and debates in school. Was his knowledge was rather bookish? Let’s find out. Question: Which place in Gujarat is also the name of a film by Hrishikesh Mukherjee. Is it Surat, Anand, Godhra? I forget the fourth option. Our engineering student who also claimed to be a Bollywood buff besides being very clued in about HM films, was very ‘confident’ and picked Surat. The Big B’s expression grew rather peculiar, a combination of extreme disbelief and a tinge of sympathy. Er…a movie called Surat? Confounding! The youth’s confidence was slightly shaken, which was good considering that it was only his second question. The Big B further quizzed the chap on whether he had other interests (like movies) besides swotting for his engineering degree.Our chap went in for the audience poll and 94 percent voted for ‘Anand’. He went with the audience’s answer, and lucky for him because it turned out to be correct. Yet another question to the effect of ZIP code is to the US as _______ is to India. Is it STD code, ISD code or PIN code? He took the 50-50 option, to get that one, and pretty soon he had exhausted all his lifelines. But he still split with Rs 20,000 in his kitty, besides an interaction with the doyen of Indian cinema. Not a bad deal at all. Besides, we got to know the full form of ZIP code, which we never would have guessed, stands for Zonal Improvement Plan. The next participant was very serene. The audience was in for some entertainment though in the guise of his high-strung candidate for the ‘phone-a-friend’ lifeline. The Big B dialed his digits and what we heard at the receiving end was in the very words of the Big B (and said with a tinge of sarcasm), a kalakkar in the making. The chap, who was the participant’s brother, in his opening line effusively proclaimed the Big B as the ‘Shehanshah of Bollywood’. Then he went on to recite, rather dramatically, what seemed like a well-researched eulogy dedicated to the Big B. 15 seconds of fame? Sana and me shared quite a few laughs with the audience. As for Big B, he was simply astonished. Sadly, for man in the hot seat, such dramatics did not yield the correct answer and he was out of the running. But he walked away with a cheque of over a lakh in prize money and looked very content post his interaction with his screen icon. Contrary to the praises showered upon the Big B by all and sundry in the course of the show, one participant unflinchingly declared that his all-time favourite was Dilip Kumar. And the Big B took this bit of information in his stride, like a thorough gentleman. In conclusion, I would like to add that the show had all the elements – the perfect host, glamorous sets (a bit like the sets of Crystal Maze), informative snippets based on some of the answers, whopping prize money, the works, but that didn’t stop us from quickly switching loyalties to Pirates of the Caribbean, during the breaks.Maybe the show needs to have a meaty new twist or make allowances for more entertaining moments courtesy our poet in the making. What do you think? Did KBC 2 seem like a déja vous of season one?

Is the Big B 'trying too hard'?

Is the Big B 'trying too hard'? " His wardrobe is too young" -- the tabloids, broadsheet dailies and local supplements, have all been debating this issue of national importance ever since the return of Kaun Banega Crorepati, to Indian television screens, two weeks back. (That was the weekend, we plotted our escape from office before sundown and cancelled plans between 9 pm and 10 pm on Friday night, just to catch the debut of KBC2. ) The statement, which has been doing the rounds right from fashion designers to KBC buffs, is now, almost a cliché. The conservatives prefer the doyen of Indian cinema in a formal suit and tie courtesy his age, image and status. But, I rather dig the new look, which has a `clubby' feel about it. It isn't garish or loud. Neither does it give the impression that the Big B is `trying too hard' or plotting to look younger. He's the epitome of poise and grace, even in black leather/ suede jackets. And who can carry these off better than the icon of style? But, then coming from a party animal, I could be biased. The new wardrobe complements his less traditional new persona. His interactions are chattier, informal, and I detect a saucy streak, which is delightfully engaging. Out, sugar and spice and all that's nice. Aside from the wardrobe, my Muslim buddy Sana and me were pondering over something a little less frivolous, the other day. How does a follower of other religions crack the questions related to Hindu mythology -- unless of course they have a keen interest in the subject? We usually get stumped at these questions. If we were actually on the show, we'd be one lifeline down. Not, that I'd fare any better with questions related to the ecclesiastical texts. But I say, why not keep it secular?

Snippet: A tid-bit about what's being written on KBC overseas.

In India, a Cable Industry Is Buoyed by a Quiz Show By SARITHA RAI (NYT) 1082 words Late Edition - Final , Section C , Page 4 , Column 1 ABSTRACT - Hindi version of Who Wants to Be a Millionaire has become hugely popular on News Corp's Star India cable and satellite network and underscores promise of cable and satellite television in India; 61 million Indian homes now have satellite and cable television, making it third-highest subscriber base in world after China and US; potential market is huge in country of more than billion people where households without satellite or cable can watch only a few state-run channels whose programming is considered tedious by many Indians; photo (M)

TALKING KBC

Er ...which lifeline do I choose? "Confident?""Lock kiya Jaye?" Ever used these words in conversation? What...you haven't? Well, the janta definitely got a kick out of using these words colloquially 'for effect' while communicating all sorts of messages -- to tease, to flirt, while signing a contract, during job interviews etc etc etc. On the show, these words were delivered with a characteristic style. Dialogues were punctuated with pauses and delivered with emphasis, to pack in drama, play up the suspense, make every moment, electric, right up to the countdown. All this, while the audience fidgeted, chewed nails and contemplated the fate of today's mere mortal in the hot seat. Will s/he, won't s/he hit the jackpot? In the season two, these words are being spewed out with nonchalance and haste in the most criminally lacklustre fashion. The drama, which was so exquisite, is simply missing. Fatigue setting in...eh?What's still very endearing, though, are the common people who feature on the show -- their reactions, expressions, triumphs and most importantly, faux pas.This Sunday, our hearts went out to this poor fellow of a gentleman, who made his demise, almost as soon as he settled snugly into the hot seat. He was all set to take the bull by the horns, but alas, was stumped by the very first question. Being clueless, he chap looked to the audience to bail him out. Bad idea! Now what was the question? It went to the effect of " What do you call a close cropped hair cut?" The options included `navy cut', `crew cut' and two more, which I can't remember. Of course, it's a crew cut, but our man didn't know that, and worse still the audience didn't know either...no, honestly they didn't! They voted for...ahem, ahem...navy cut!He went with their answer sans any deliberation, and the Big B didn't haggle much either (most merciless, I say). And he was out of the running! His earnest face fell. His expression, from confident, turned into a queer mix of disappointment, bewilderment and regret. We felt a deep sense of empathy for this person, whose dreams had just turned to dust. Aww!!!!Which brings us to the question -- how do you decide which lifeline to opt for? One chap went for `Phone-a-friend'. Will your friend know the answer, the Big B asked with concern. Er...no, he said! Sure enough the friend was just as clueless. Next, he opted for the `50-50' lifeline, followed his own intuition and got the right answer. Every participant has a `now or never' moment, sometimes quite a few, when he or she experiences conflict -- should I bail out now, with so much in the kitty or endevour for more, and risk losing a lot more? Cabbages aren't boiled twice, and decisions have to be made in split seconds. Yet another, chap who came all the way from MP approached the game was a mix of strategy and risk-taking. He was asked a question, took the audience poll, seemed unconvinced and then, chose the other option. He was proved right, and is still in the running with Rs 6,40,000 already in the kitty. Let's see how he fares next week. Moral of the story: You can't always trust the audience. Also, KBC wardrobe update: The Big B looked very glam in a steel grey suit. The intricate embroidery down the front of the jacket added a nice touch, but er...could we do away with the shiny, diagonal stripes lining the jacket pockets?

When Ray talked cinema...

When Ray talked cinema...

The late Satyajit Ray often expressed regret about the lack of quality writing on cinema by its own practitioners. 'Filmmaking is such a demanding process that directors --especially those who keep up a steady output -- rarely have time to assemble their thoughts,' he said.

Time constraints aren't the only factor; many leading directors tend to be reluctant to discuss their own work at length, much less expound on cinema in general. Ray is one of the exceptions.

Non-Bengali readers might be familiar with his earlier work, Our Films, Their Films, a collection of essays that was first published in 1976. Now we have Speaking Of Films, a translation of a collection known in Bengal as Bishay Chalachitra.

It's taken a puzzlingly long time for the first English version of Bishay Chalachitra to appear, but it was worth the wait: Gopa Majumdar's translation is impeccable, retaining all the qualities we associate with the director -- gentle yet firm, avuncular, instructive but conversational.

In the 18 essays collected here, Ray covers topics ranging from the history of Bengali cinema to the importance of background music in a film ('in India the problem a composer must face is not one of paucity but of abundance').

There are reflections on great directors of the past, personal glimpses into the vicissitudes of the filmmaking process, and anecdotes, like the amusingly incongruous one about Kanu Banerjee -- Pather Panchali's Harihar -- ruining a shot by repeatedly saying 'Mohan Bagan' (the football club) instead of 'mohanbhog' (the sweet).

Ray also uses the scenarios of some of his movies to illuminate the problems in translation from page to screen.

And there are moving personal profiles, based on his experiences with the blind painter Benode Bihari and with the extraordinary Chunnibala Devi, whose performance as the old pishi in Pather Panchali was one of the miracles of screen acting (and of serendipitous casting).

The master director discusses, at some length, the synthesis between form and content: the two qualities must ideally work in unison, he says, but it is possible for some films to aspire to high artistic achievement even with an abundance of one quality relative to the other; the austerity of the Japanese director Ozu (who refused to employ even widely accepted cinematic devices like the dissolve and the pan) can coexist with the joyful experimentation of Nouvelle Wave enfant terribles like Truffaut and Godard.

At the same time, however, Ray sounds a cautionary warning to those who would seek to break established cinematic norms without a clear understanding of them, 'for the creation of new rules requires a thorough knowledge of the old ones'.

This essay, written in the late 1960s, has a strong contemporary resonance, given the dilettantism and the 'anything goes' attitude we see so much of today.

Even Ray's biggest fans sometimes feel alienated by the levels of perfection the man reached (hence the frequently voiced preference for the erratic brilliance of Ritwik Ghatak over the polished finesse of Ray's best films).

This extended to his personal conduct too; he never came across as the sort who would, for instance, deign to participate in a messy verbal scuffle.

In that context, it's fun to see him take on critics who wrote uncharitable things about Apur Sansar and Charulata. The occasional traces of peevishness in Ray's tone here ('I do not know if Mr Rudra understands anything of literature. Of films he understands nothing, but it is not just that. He doesn't understand even when things are explained to him.') are more engaging than his counterarguments (which are brilliantly made anyway).

But these little glimpses of petulance notwithstanding, almost everything Ray did was marked by empathy. His ability to see various sides of a debate (mirrored in the boundless grace of his movies, where even in situations of extreme conflict and turmoil, one can relate to the predicaments of several different characters) brings richness and depth to his writing.

Rarely has a major director been so generous in articulating his thoughts, not only about his own films and the cinema of his country, but also about the history of the medium and how it has been influenced by societal backdrops in different regions. For all this, and for the lucidity and perceptiveness with which he did it, we can continue to be grateful.

Sachin Pilot - I would like India to break free from religious intolerance

Sachin Pilot - 27 - Member of Parliament

I would like India to break free from religious intolerance' Every citizen of India feels proud when he calls himself or herself an Indian. I take pride in calling myself an Indian -- a country that is the world's largest democracy, which has people of all religions living harmoniously. The best thing about our nation is that today more then 50 per cent of its population is under the age of 25. As a parliamentarian I have been travelling through the length and breadth of India. Our economy is booming, our trade is increasing. India is a vibrant nation.

Independence means self rule. I would like to see India break free from religious intolerance, caste hatred, poverty, hunger and illiteracy. I would like to see my nation eradicating major diseases like polio etc.

JAI HIND.....INDIAN INDEPENDENCE

Who was Mangal Pandey?

For the few who think of Mangal Pandey as just another character role played by Aamir Khan, a quick lesson in history:

So, he's not a fictional character?
Of course not. Born in the village of Nagwa, district Ballia, Uttar Pradesh, Mangal Pandey was introduced to history books as the sepoy who played a major role in the Indian uprising of 1857.

He was a soldier of the 34th Native Infantry whose attack on a superior officer came to be recognised as the event that sparked India's First War of Independence. Little is known of his life before that momentous incident but he has been declared a martyr since.

What happened that day?

Pandey attacked his British sergeant and wounded an adjutant. The office in charge, General Hearsay, noticed that Pandey was in the throes of some sort of 'religious frenzy', and ordered a jamadaar to arrest him. The latter refused.

Surrounded by guards and European officers, Pandey tried to commit suicide by shooting himself. He was seriously wounded, and promptly arrested.

Following a court-martial on April 6, he was hanged at Barrackpore on April 8, 1857. As a collective punishment for his act, the entire regiment was also dismissed.

Was he India's first freedom fighter?

According to records at the Jabalpur Museum, Pandey was to be executed on April 18. But he was hanged 10 days earlier to prevent the regiment from harbouring ill will against superiors.

The English were also aware that news of Pandey's death could spark more unrest.

Going by the date on which he was executed, Mangal Pandey became the first freedom fighter and martyr of 1857.

His name has since been synonymous with revolt.

Has Pandey been in the news before?

Yes. He made an appearance in newspapers not so long ago, with the release of Mangal Pandey: Brave Martyr or Accidental Hero?, a book by Rudranghsu Mukherjee.

The author claimed Pandey was an ordinary sepoy who, under the influence of bhang, committed a reckless act for which he was hanged. Mukherjee's analysis examined whether Pandey really was the heroic figure history had made him out to be, or just a soldier who happened to get lucky.

The book had its share of controversial statements such as: 'Nationalism creates its own myths. Mangal Pandey is part of that imagination of historians. He had no notion of patriotism or even of India. For him, mulk was a small village, Awadh.'

It also went on to claim that Pandey's action was contrary to the spirit of insurgency: 'A rebellion is a collective will to overthrow an oppressive order. Pandey acted alone; he was a rebel without a rebellion. The name Mangal Pandey meant nothing to the sepoys who raised the revolt in 1857.' Luckily for us, no post-publication riots ensued.

Does he ever appear outside history books?

You might want to try the post office. The Indian Posts and Telegraphs Department has issued four commemorative stamps in the memory of freedom fighters, one of which sports the face of Mangal Pandey. Interestingly, British author Zadie Smith's award-winning novel White Teeth also has a reference, with Pandey cast as the fictional protagonist Samad's great grandfather.

Why did Mangal Pandey do what he did?

There are a number of reasons. To understand his action, one must analyse the religious, social and political milieu in which he operated. In a nutshell, the British already had given the Indians much cause for unhappiness, thanks to the doctrine of Lapse, the forcible introduction of a British system of education, and social reforms that didn't exactly go down well with the higher castes. The sepoys were also dissatisfied with army life. Coupled with low pay, their need to constantly pit themselves against their countrymen also took its toll.

To make things worse, the East India Company introduced the Pattern 1853 Enfield rifle. Its cartridges were covered by greased membrane that, apparently, had to be cut by the teeth before loading. There was a rumour that this membrane was greased by cow or pig fat, which was offensive to Hindu as well as Muslim soldiers.

The British tried reasoning with the sepoys, and even asked them to make their own grease from vegetable oils. The rumour, however, persisted. General George Anson, Commander in Chief in India, reacted by saying, 'I'll never give in to their beastly prejudices.' He refused to compromise.

Then, on March 29, 1857, at Barrackpore near Kolkata, Mangal Pandey started an open mutiny, inviting his comrades to join him.


The Rising had begun.

AMITABH AND ABHISHEK

Amitabh and Abhishekh

16th April 1912 HEADLINE

A giant 255-year-old tortoise in a Calcutta zoo