MS Dhoni - Split Personality?

[The article has been originlly published here. Tanul hopes to write with increased regularity at Holdingwilley]

India has never been a land where wicketkeeper's willow has dictated the terms to the ball. There have always been wicket keepers who can bat a bit. Yes. And I do remember Mongia's 152 against Australia, and his inconsistent pinch hitting prowess, Dasgupta's innings to salvage our pride against the Proteas. But, these examples are few and far. Wicketkeepers have always been the guardians of the tailenders. Nothing more. Nothing less.

That sunny morning in Vishakhapatnam saw a wicket keeper of a different kind. India was playing Pakistan. And while batting first, a wicket fell in the 4th over, and in walked a batsman, who was heard of only on the domestic circuit, and faintly in the previous series against Bangladesh. He made his way to the centre, and it was a clear indication that he had been sent as a pinch hitter. His first major one day innings, and all the team wants is to utilize the first 15 overs. The whole country would be content with a snappy 40. He begins his innings - for the lack of a polite word - shoddily. He knicks the balls outside off to third man, gets beaten. But, even then manages a brisk start. We don't care either. Runs are important, no matter how they come, one of the staple lines in the annals of a cricket commentator’s book is repeated for the nth time to reassure our woot against a nervous, inept batting display by a newbie.

Slowly, but surely, he settles. Both in the pitch, the international arena, and his own skin. And then he bats, as if there is indeed no tomorrow. He goes down the track, cuts, pulls, hits the ball for a single and steals a two. We are reminded that he would keep wickets for us, later in the day. Damn! He could get into any side just on the basis of his batting. Similar to Sehwag, he hasn't got the best of techniques, but, his hand-eye-coordination has pummeled Pakistan to ignominy. 148 runs at a blinding speed. Take that!

The biggest disservice to some one's talent is by labeling his work of genius as a 'fluke'. A one off thing. 148 was a chocolate syrup. But, was he here to stay? The majority was still skeptical. Dhoni blurred the line, some months later at Jaipur. There are some players with which you associate something very personal. For me, if you say Jonty Rhodes, the first thing that flashes my mind is him running out Inzamam-ul-Haq by breaking the stumps in the '92 World Cup. Every cricket fanatic has a distinct remembrance of each player. I never knew I would associate one with M.S. Dhoni, from that day on. It had to be that six he hit over the covers on the bowling of Chaminda Vaas. The beauty of the shot was, it was played with such nonchalance that the outcome of it seemed to be completely divorced with the effort. Effortless. He didn't even step out. He just planted his front foot forward, and the ball sailed into the stands stamped with Dhoni's brilliance. 183 runs he scored, that day. Did I say something about 'fluke' some lines ago? Pardon me.

Dhoni's batting was never high on technique. No one was oblivious to the fact, and we were happy to embrace it, because when he hit those attempted yorkers in the death overs with maddening fury, suddenly, the paragraph number three of the page 23 of the batting manual seemed oh-so-silly and supplementary. Dhoni was the weapon we needed in the death overs. We had always made hay while the ball was nice and hard, courtesy the Sehwags, Sachins, and the Gangulys. The lower half now looked all the more dangerous with the combination of Yuvraj and Dhoni, especially while chasing. Team India had a new swagger while chasing those days. Even 90 off the last 10, wasn't a big deal anymore. The big boys were in town.

Then, the team got embroiled in multiple controversies, and before one could get hold of what was happening - M.S.Dhoni was the captain of the Indian team. With great power comes great responsibility. Every Indian Skipper, it seems, is a big fan of this quote from Spiderman. Captaincy for the Indian players is sadly a license of not playing their natural game. It happened to so many before Dhoni. But, for all we knew Dhoni was the maverick. The new face of the Indian cricket. He took some brave decision, and India was back to its merry ways of winning. But, somewhere down the line, Dhoni metamorphosed from a slogger to an accumulator. Initially, he carried even this job with perfection, even sans any big hits, his strike rate was around 100. But, the question is: Was it required, the change? Is, M.S.Dhoni the man who is destined to rotate the strike, and steady the ship? Just because he is the captain of the Indian Team, now? We can have other players to do the job. Dhoni proved his mettle even in his new avatar (he averages a whopping 58 as a captain, as opposed to 44 as non-captain!), but, didn’t he sacrifice his natural self in the process that hurt the team’s prospects in the long run?( Although his average has increased considerably, his strike rate went down substantially too, and his strike rate in T20 has been abdominally low.)

So, when India required 60 off the last 5 against England to be alive in the recently concluded T20 World Cup, and when Dhoni walked in. It was still possible. After all he was the same Dhoni, who had hit Vass of cover for that six, who used to heave his bat to dug out the yorkers and send them sailing over long on. Or, wasn’t he? He had been playing like a dormant volcano recently. But, the faith that he would explode was still there. He did not. He could not. His identity that he had bartered to shelter the team's interest, ironically, betrayed the very team when it needed him the most.

Chungking Express

Originally written for Passionforcinema.com. The post has been published here.

There are some movies that numb you, some leave you awestruck by its novelty, some inspire you, some make you laugh your gut out, some make you cry. But, I had never fallen in love with a movie. Not until I saw Chungking Express. This is not a critique of the movie in any way. This is my love letter to Chungking Express. Very few things, let alone movies have given me the pure inherent joy, as much as this movie did. So much beauty is packed into even the minutest of frame that you want to choke yourself with happiness. It is very difficult to describe what it feels like. It is an awful personal experience. Quentin Tarantino, once said in his own inimitable style with respect to this movie, “This movie made me cry. Not because the movie was sad, but, because I was amazed how much I could love any movie.”

The movie begins rather gloomily to a lovelorn cop, and takes us through protagonist’s same predicament in the second story too, but there is an unmistakable strong thread of hope that runs through both the stories. Hope is really an amazing thing. It is free and comes in many forms. For Cop 223 it came in the forms of Pineapple cans. He broke up with his girlfriend on the 1st April and gave 30 days to the relationship by purchasing a pineapple can that expires on the 1st May, each day of the month. If she doesn’t come by the 1st of May,the relationship would expire as would the pineapple cans, he believes. Through his soliloquy, he questions whether every tangible or intangible thing in this world comes with an expiry date? That is one question, that raises some circuituitous answers.

She doesn’t come to him and thus, on the 1st May, he eats all the pineapple cans and consequently becomes sick. Relationships, if turned to stomach disorder, should be flushed down the toilet. He finally decides to fall out of love by falling in love (A debatable concept, but, won’t go into that for now!).

Even the protagonist of the second story(cop 663) keeps hoping and waiting for his love to turn up. Foolishly wishing she would leap out of the closet and surprise him. If only wishes structured the outcome of things in life. Meanwhile he keeps meeting the shy May at the Express restaurant, his past doesn’t let go of him to even think about the present. May harbors feeling for him, but their story doesn’t venture via the normal boy-meet-girl caper. Infact, almost bowing to an idealistic definition of love, she just keeps him happy without even being with him. That is where Chungking Express packs a punch, it goes to the idealistic realms of love without being corny. She tidies his apartment, as if the soaps, towels and goldfish are the only way of stepping into the inaccessible 663’s life, and she is happy doing that. She represents the change in his life. In truly one of the movie’s most ironic and poignant scenes, the cop 663 stands in front of the closet hoping to be surprised by his girlfriend. But, nothing of the sort happens. Instead, we see May hiding in the closet. Dejected on not getting any reply, the cop turns back. How often have we been near to love only to turn our back against it?

The movie scoops out dollops of realism moments before its ending. When the cop 663 expresses his desire of dating her, May agrees. She reaches the place of the date and is about to meet the cop 663. About to have an interesting conversation with the man, whose inanimated life she has changed. From a distance. Would the conversation be interesting? She is shy, what would she speak? Does she have butterflies in stomach? Does she see herself or 663? Or, herself and 663? Together? What does she see and think. None of the above. She sees the name of the restaurant she is headed towards, and possibly a beginning of a new life for her. She sees the name of the restaurant emblazoned in golden colours – California. It is raining. She sees the water droplets caressing her most beautiful dream, as if they were her messengers. Now, she sees herself and decides. Obviously, Wong Kar Wai doesn’t sketch the details for us, but the close up of the the california for few seconds is enough to get what is being said. She decides amidst all this, she has been missing herself. She wants to love 663, but, not by compromising herself. She decides its not time. Not yet. She leaves something for the cop 663.

True to her promise, May returns to cop 663. In a fitting display of roles reversal, he is working in the Express restaurant in the same fashion May used to (the loud california dreamin’ song blaring on). May walks in carrying with herself not only a calm satisfaction of having giving this relationship the requisite time, but also living her the life way she always wanted to, so as to carry no regretfull What-ifs of the past. The destination of the economic class boarding pass is unknown. But, it has two passengers. In love.

P.S : I have never believed and will never believe in quantitative estimation of a movie. However, this time I will make an exception.
Rating – 6/5.

Kya Karein, Kya Na Karein...[Fiction]

Disclaimer : A tribute to the first cheesy feeling of love/infatuation/^%#$!

Today was no different. Aayush, as usual, was sitting in the fourth bench. She was sitting in the second bench. The English teacher was telling something about the Rime of Ancient Mariner. It didn’t matter to Aayush. He was busy looking at her. In fact, gaping. It used to amaze and amuse him, how could she look more enchanting than the previous day. More beautiful. Spellbinding, in fact. She looked back, Aayush quickly snapped away to his textbook. Shit. Did she see me? Aayush saw from one corner of his eye, she smiled. Yes, today was in no way different. It had been four years of this futile exercise. Admiring, gaping her from a distance. Feeling hopeless whenever there was an eye-contact or even a feeble chance of it. Nothing had changed. Four years had passed just like that. And he hadn’t even talked with her. Not even made an effort to. Why? Aayush was afraid. Afraid of rejection. Afraid of being meted to indifference. What if she doesn’t even know me? What if I come across as a fool? What he would go and tell her? That she is cute, and he likes her. Won’t she laugh at me? Won’t the whole class laugh at me? It is almost equivalent to blasphemy talking to a girl in our class, he thought. And why would she even talk to me? What is so unique about me? What is so great about me? OK, I’m pretty decent in academics. But, is that something to boot about? Am I smart? Not enough. Not confident enough to start a conversation with her. Why would she even bother, she has the company of all the handsome boys in class. And she enjoys it, it seems. Forget it. Aayush resolved the mental conundrum. Ok. Just forget her. Concentrate on the Rime of Ancient Mariner.

For a split second, Aayush raised his head and saw her. She was looking back. Aayush looked at her, grabbing an inch of confidence somewhere, locked his eyes into her and didn’t flinch away for that magical second. She smiled. Yes, she smiled. The cutest lip in the world has curled to give way to the most beatific sight ever. Aayush didn’t know how to react. Aayush thought it might have been, somebody sitting at the back. So, he thought it would be sheer foolishness to smile back. Won’t she perceive me as desperate? Aayush didn’t smile back. So, even she turned back to look at the teacher. Aayush looked back to see who was sitting behind him. He saw all the benches of the backseat were empty.

Some weeks later…

The news had spread like wild fire in the class. Everybody was saying the same thing. She was leaving the school. The enormity of the news struck to Aayush without losing an instant. How could she do it? He asked himself. He got no answer.

It was raining outside. Aayush could see her hair was wet. Excess water dripping from it. A drop fell and smudged her beautiful writing. She became a tad irritated. Aayush loved it even more. Aayush never thought she was even capable of tearing a page from her copy. She didn’t. She began writing from a fresh page. Aayush smiled at his foolishness of knowing her so much.

That news had almost paralyzed his senses. When she would be going back? He quickly calculated the possibilities. The first term is still two weeks, she is not going any time before that. She would probably give her exams and go, Aayush thought. But, why? Aayush’s inner voice tried reasoning him. I don’t know. Just shut up. I know it is true. She is not leaving any time soon. But, whatever I will have to talk to her before she goes out. But, what can I possibly tell her? Think hard, think hard, think hard. May be I can ask her phone number of the new place? If she asks why, then what would I say? Well, its pretty easy. I would say I want it because…because..because…shit. shit. Shit. I don’t know. What will I say? Damn.

4 classes later…

Aayush had gone to meet his history teacher about a school project he was leading. It was their games period, but even then he had to go. He somehow wrapped the meeting quickly with the teacher and ran to his class to get his badminton racket. He didn’t want to be late for his match. He entered the class and was taken aback by her sitting alone in the class. What is she doing in the class now? Alone? I know she doesn’t play much, but why is she sitting alone now? Aayush’s hand were fidgety with the chain of his bag. Probably for the first time in his life, he was sitting alone in the class. He was nervous. He wanted to get the hell out of there as quickly as he could. He desperately wanted to glance at her. But, wait. This was the best way of talking with her. Come on, Aayush. Go talk to her. Meanwhile, she was sitting quietly in her place. Aayush finally took the badminton racket out of his bag. Why can’t she talk with me? I want to talk. Come on. Talk. Talk. Talk.

Next Day…

Aayush entered the class after the morning assembly and took his place. First period. History. He looked at the adjacent row. The second seat. The one beside the window. She wasn’t there. Absent. But, why? The class was humdrum to the bone. Aayush didn’t have to be a smartass today. Didn’t have to crack any funny jokes and check whether she smiled or not. I could have talked yesterday, he thought. Damn. She wouldn’t have eaten me. One of these days, I will. For sure. I don’t have much time.

Two Weeks later…

Aayush never knew when the realization dawned on him. When did he finally accept it? He didn’t know. He never thought much about it. This was the ‘What If’ chapter of his life. He failed an exam, not because he didn’t know the answer. He failed it, because he hadn’t asked the question. He laughed silly on his analogy. The teacher was teaching the ‘Solitary Reaper’, Aayush glanced at the second bench again. The seat close to the wall was empty. It was raining again. Aayush could almost smell her wet hair. Almost. He could almost see her drawing something foolishly on the back side of a note book, mostly the caricature of the teacher which wasn’t funny by any standard, but only looked funny, because even the remotest prospect of her thinking anything mischievious made him smile. Aayush took out the English textbook from his bag, weary with irritation, out of reluctant resignation to fate. He saw the badminton racket in his bag. Aayush just wanted to exist for her. As someone. Somewhere. It was Aayush's turn to read the last two paragraphs of the poem. He stood and read the poem aloud :

Whate'er the theme, the Maiden sang
Whate’er the theme, the maiden sang
As if her song could have no ending ;
I saw her singing at her work,
And o’er the sickle bending ; –
I listened, motionless and still ;
And, as I mounted up the hill,
The music in my heart I bore,
Long after it was heard no more.
As if her song could have no ending;
I saw her singing at her work,
And o'er the sickle bending;--
I listened, motionless and still;
And, as I mounted up the hill
The music in my heart I bore,
Long after it was heard no more

The times of Harvey Milk, the times we live in…

Originally Published on Passionforcinema.com, here

Have you ever tried speaking while someone clutched you mouth? Did you ever lie to anyone each day of your life so that you could survive? Did you ever cuss at yourself for being what you are? Did you ever wonder why you were not normal, but deep within the true answer betrayed the answer you wanted to listen? Were you met with the stifled giggles of your classmates when you just walked past them? If the answer to all of the questions above is a resounding No, then you don’t know what it was like to be a homosexual in the 1970’s ( people have been a bit forthcoming of late, but those days were the pits). The times when bigotry spread in the air like a contagious disease, the time when a ‘queer’ man showed how one can fight for his own rights, fight for his own life and in the process leave a legacy which people would admire years later with exalted respect.

The movie Milk opens to Harvey Milk confiding his thoughts on to a tape recorder days before his death. He knew his end, because he knew the world well enough. He knew the people cloaked in fear and the repercussions of their action. On November 27, 1978 Harvey Milk was shot two bullets in his head. It took 26 years for the bullet to break ‘that’ closet door, Milk aspired for. 26 years. And this is just a beginning, a good beginning no doubt, but, just a beginning. Many closets are still tightly closed; ’religion’, ‘violation of natural discourse’ are just some of the weak latches. Common sense has never been the forte of human beings, constructing barbed wires and alienating a group has been.

In the first hour or so, the movie plays like a documentary. The camera is an indifferent, emotionally divorced viewer at times, objectively noting points from Milk’s life. It is too reluctant to do anything here, following quietly the phenomena that engulfed the castro streets in 1978. The movie doesn’t place him at the pedestal, but shows Milk as a normal human being, as turned on by power and sex, as any other normal human being would be. It is a transparent delineation of his life, and unlike A Beautiful Mind it never banks on those scenes that never happened in Nash’s life.

Milk is an important movie in todays’ times because our thought process is still a storehouse of conventional, contrite ideas, where the alleged law of God looms large. Neil Armstrong took a giant leap for the mankind in 1969, the very same year when homosexuals raised their collective voice for the first time. Talk about congruency. We make smaller notebooks every other month, but have we really shed our prejudices and moved on? This movie is a a crude reminder of the past, and a subtle gentle suggestion of what needs to be done in the present.

Milk as a movie works on various levels {feels great to use the most abused line in reviews :) }. It is not only about a man who fought for the homosexuals stood against the odds and faced the wind head on, but his life can also act as an inspirational model for he was a man who was proud of being himself. And he never cared a fig of what everyone labeled him as. Because, it is the certification in life from within that matters the most. Harvey Milk knew it. He knew it well. It is about a man who inspired a millions and gave hope.

Milk\’s Hope Speech is one of the most poignant speeches I have ever heard and has the magical ability to lift anyone from abyss and set one free. I am of the firm opinion that things change. That things can change, that things will change. I’m proud to be foolishly romantic. We can’t live on hope alone, but without it, life is not worth living, said Harvey Milk 32 years ago, and I hope. With a million wishes locked inside.

Are YOU ready to give it to them?

There is something about Delhi-6...

Originally Published here on Passinoforcinema.com

Why do we love Ramayan love so much? Of all the factors that peoplecan possibly come forward with, I’ve a relatively simple answer. We love Ramayana because of Ravan. Because, he distinctly draws that line. He writes it on the wall and declares which side he is standing. Now, that makes our job much more simple of where do we want to position ourselves. We need a hero, so that we may want to be like him. We need a villain so that me may stand on the opposite side of wall. Who the hell are we? Mixed vegetable hain sirjee. Thoda Paneer to thoda mutter.

Roshan( Abhishek Bachchan) comes to India to drop his ailing grandmother. He is flabbergasted by the loudness and madness, where every hour is a celebration of a celebration, where every minute is an event in itself. He neither loves it nor hates it initially, but, is rather fascinated by it. His Motorola cell phone connects him to a world never seen before. He is greeted by a host of interesting characters, who attaches a different meaning to every emotion experienced by him before.

There is not much of a story to boast about in Delhi-6, it is about the journey of protagonist, though to much disappointment, unlike Lucky, he reaches a destination. A forced one. In the first half, the flow of the movie is inconspicuous by its absence, there are sudden stoppages, hiccups, gathering and moving on again. It can be a bit uneasy as an audience to register this, but, since there is so much to show and talk about the Dilli, that the camera is just too busy doing the hopping business. There is just too much going on in the first half.

Mehra’s sense of subtlety, attention to details and metaphors makes it a delightful watch. But, when you have just basked in the essence of scene, Mehra comes back abruptly on to your face and takes care to spell it out. Why would one like to do that? For instance, take the beautiful conversation between Abhishek Bachchan and Rishi Kapoor, where the latter explains how he lost in love, and how desperately he tried salvaging it in whatever way he could. Kapoor’s one line seals it all, but, then, he explains himself again. One doesn’t even get the chance of reveling in that line before being explained like a 8 year old. Same for the fakir’s use of mirror, it was evident, but Kulkarni lectures about it unnecessarily. And these are not the only two scenes.

The music of the film, needless to say, is nothing but jaw dropping. Rahman. Period. Let’s move on. The dream sequence in Dil Gira Dafatan is nothing but amazing, but, after watching the movie, the standout song of the movie without even a speck of doubt is, Rehna Tu. Before watching the movie, I could almost imagine a Chupke Se kind of a treatment being done to it. But, after watching the movie, one realises that Mehra almost reverses the conventional treatment this song could have been meted to. And the lyrics makes perfect sense when viewed in that context. Mind Blowing stuff. Rehman, Joshi and Mehra killed me then and there. Drop dead. Watch the movie and experience the scent of these lines:

Haath tham chalna hiTo dono ke daye haath sang kaise
Ek daaya hoga ek baaiya hogaTham le haath yeh thaam le

And,

Mujhe teri barish mein bheegna hai ghuljana hai

Now, comes the most important part of the film. Climax. Rakeysh Mehra has a penchant of shockingthe audience, he just has to do it. He is not satisfied until and unless, he doesnt’ find anything out of the ordinary to end his film with. He almost killed a beautiful RDB with the garish climax, same happens here too. it seems Mehra is more comfortablelewith the journey rather than the destination. In both the movies, the first two hours flows naturally, while in the last twenty minutes you can almost imagine Mehra scratching his head and thinking about the climax. Thinking too hard. It looks as if he comes up with a ’solution’ to a problem more than anything else. Almost analogous to a 5 paragraph model students have been ‘programmed’ to write in most of the schools. Where is the fucking ‘conclusion’? Mehra wonders aloud. Why it has to be so forced? You may want to retort back. The last 15 minutes killed it. Almost. I say almost because because the first two hours is so damned well made that it would be atrocious of me to deride this movie. Logically, Maths does not allow me to do so. Nor does my conscience.

Film-fare? Awards...

Originally published here on Passionforcinema.com

It is that time of the year again. When Filmfare announces its award for excellence( in movie making? well, that’s for you to figure out). You might want to scratch your head and wonder why this article is there in the first place, isn’t it PFC? The place where we don’t look beyond Oscars, Golden Globes, BAFTAS and their likes. Where it is assumed(yes, yes, you guessed it right, the ‘intellectual types’) we think A stands for Akira, instead of Aditya and K stands for Kieslowski rather than Karan. I know. But, then the fact that these awards are the alleged representatives of one of the best movies to come out of our country( National Awards, you may argue, but then, is the majority of ‘aam junta’ really bothered?) makes one cringe with irritation after glancing through the nominations. I didn’t even think twice when one of the many illegetimate sons of Filmfare awards, gave Race the Best Screenplay. But, this is Filmfare, and in its 54th year. Oh darling ye hai India, we are different. By almost every means. We award a Maine Pyar Kiya over Salaam Bombay, when a portrayal of Aman Mehra wins the best supporting award, and portrayal of Bhiku Mhatre is given a consolation nomination. Well, I could go on and on.

The question I want to raise here is: What should be the yardstick of these awards? Should it go by awarding genuinely good movies, or, the movies which the masses lapped up? Once in a blue moon, a Hindi movie qualifies, which can do both. When did the Black lady lose its moral? For as long as I can remember the awards of early 80’s and the decades preceding it were still applaudable. ( Ardh Satya, Kalyug, Khubsoorat.etc were awarded the best movie).

Shouldn’t there be that balance, heck, I would even settle with that. But, year after year, what we have is senseless movies having a bagful of stars making it to almost all the categories. There is always a critics award, to keep everyone happy. A Power award so that the tube lights of the venue can be switched on. This year too, has been no different. Most of the movies about which people debated here and intricately pointed out flaws have been shamelessly put there. It is a starry night after all. Where is Mumbai Meri Jaan, Dasvidanya, Mithya, Aamir, and for me the best movie of the year - Oye Lucky Lucky Oye?

Bol Bol, why did you ditch me WHORE?

Luck By Chance: Some thoughts.

Originally published here on Passionforcinema.com

When Anurag Kashayp first approached Shahrukh Khan for the role of K in No Smoking, SRK refused. He answers that circuitously in the movie Luck By Chance, when he advices Vikram that, in this industry it is very important what kind of choices you make. The first film chooses you, now, you are going to choose your films. Choose well. The answer could very well have been Choose safe. Luck By Chance is one such movie that fleetingly touches some unanswered questions, and then indifferently moves on to its own story. The story of Indian film industry or Bollywood? Call what may you want to, after watching Luck By chance, I just realized, the striking difference between telling your story and sensationalizing it. The difference between honesty and pretentiousness. The difference between a Page 3, and Luck By Chance. The difference between Madhur Bhandharkar and Zoya Akthar. You think I’ve lost it by digressing this far? Well, I’ve just begun..

There have been a lot of discussions on PFC itself regarding its main leads. Konkona Sen Sharma, and Farhan Akhthar. In the movie, they play outsiders, the struggler who are ready to do anything to achieve that coveted spot, to break in. While the former also strives hard, is ambitious, but the latter is unrelenting. To an extreme, almost. The discussion was: Should they have actually cast new comers for the role? I wouldn’t dismiss this question straight way, by just a Yes or a No answer. Because, that is one of the things that this movie raises. How the hell a newcomer can break into this industry? It is not only a bad, mad world where there is not even an inch visible from the outside. We hear thousands of stories about struggles, that actually makes us shudder from inside. Javed Akhthar writes in his book ‘Tarkash’ about his struggling days, everyone who visits PFC knows Anurag’s struggle, and a countless other rags to riches story of those who have made it. In the movie, Karan Johar says to Zafar Khan( Hrithik Roshan), Vikram should be thankful to you, had you not left this role, he could never have got this chance. Zanjeer was refused by 7 people, and then it came to Amitabh Bachann. Aamir Khan left Darr, and then Shahrukh got it(though that Shahrukh’s break, but, from there on started his association with Yash Raj Films which is as significant as a major break). Otherwise, who gives a chance to a new comer? Very true, Mr. Karan Johar. Very true. The way Karan delivers this line rings so true because we all know Karan himself will not give a chance to any new comer, he is too busy working with his ‘brother’, ‘uncles’ and ‘aunties’. This is one of the most honest and ironical lines being spoken in a ‘Bollywood’ movie in recent times. See, I digressed again, back to the question of discussion…

So, the question which some people were discussing on was: how apt it was to cast two established actors who are themselves from a ‘filmy family’. Doesn’t the whole point the movie tries driving home gets a bit lost here? When you see Farhan enter for the audition of a major movie, where he sees many people like him, and when ‘Sapnon se Bhare naina‘ plays in the background. Your heart goes out more to whom? Farhan Akhthar, the struggler shown, who he is actually not, or the people sitting out there filling forms, who are struggler in the real sense. Because, for that brief moment, I snapped out of Luck by Chance, and dived straight into the what is the story of an ordinary struggler. It was very important for the rest of the star cast to be from film industry, because it was about them, but had fresh faces portrayed the role of Vikram, and Shona, the film would have been that more honest for me. Because, one of the part of the movie is about the trial and tribulation of a newcomer trying to break in. It could have given the film that edge. Although, all said and done Farhan and Konkona deliver a staggering performance. Konkona, is by default, expected to act fabulously. So, it would really be a exercise in redundancy to pour accolades on her for this performance. It is the kind of stuff she is born to deliver. Next time someone gives a believable and awesome performance, we can safely it to be a ‘What a Konkona performance’. Now, comes Farhan Akthar. Farhan’s restraint performance was one of the high points of Rock On!! His role raised the movie to a new level, and with Luck By Chance, he raises the bar for himself staggeringly high. What a performer! Farhan should discount everyone’s advice of playing safe,( as advised toVikram by the ’star’ himself) because, this actor has put character back into the word character-actor. Farhan absolutely outshines and dazzles in this movie, a powerhouse performance. I should stop gushing, otherwise people would start guessing I have been hired by Excel Entertainment. Such is the performance by the two main leads, that it actually becomes difficult to answer the question raised in the beggining of this paragraph. Their performance injects honesty and sincerity to the movie.

I also think Zoya owes a lot to her brother Farhan for this movie. I am not going to deny her any credit. It is a smash-hit debut in almost all the ways possible, and I consider it foolish to say that this is the best debut of the last decade or not. Frankly, it doesn’t matter to me. But, I feel Farhan’s Dil Chahta Hai unconsciously laid the foundation of this beautiful movie. Anurag said in one of the comments that, Farhan and Zoya struggled a lot with him and Farhan didn’t know any stars when he was making Dil Chahta Hai. Okay, that is fine. But, after Dil Chahta Hai made waves, when Excel Entertainment came into being, when they had the backing of a powerful Javed Akhthar, a versatile S-E-L at their disposal, it laid the foundation of Zoya’s work. I will reiterate the fact that story and screenplay which has been done by Zoya herself, is a work of an exceptional talent. But, having said that, had the aforementioned factors not been on her side, the movie could never have been as effective as it is now. The guest appearances, the special appearances, the friendly appearances, taking digs at oneself.etc. would never have been possible in a movie made by an ‘outsider’ in the truest sense.

The movie raises so many questions through its funny but dark lines that it would be a crime to ignore them. The actors play themselves, and go on to say some of things that would make you laugh, but at the same time make you think and question the dynamics of ‘Bollywood’. For instance, When Anurag is ranting about one of the supposed endings of the movie via symbolism, and visual metaphors, Rishi Kapoor cuts him short by saying, Ae Institute, main ye picture film festival ke liye nai bana raha hun‘. This line again goes on to say a lot of things in its own unassuming way. When No Smoking was released, people here discussed about Franz Kafka, Ayn Rand, and what not. While the hard breaking truth is that most of our audience and even the so-called stars and member of this fraternity, give a damn. The ideologies don’t match. Not even an iota in most of the cases.

That is what Luck By Chance. About the industry, where everyone dreams to be a part of, an industry where every one bitches about one another, an industry where everything seems unfair and unreasonable. An Industry which is so ruthless that it has made a few, has broken thousands of dream. Hats off to Zoya for delineating such a true account of this kaleidoscope.