Notes on Haider

Some stray thoughts on the film after I decided to re-watch it on the big screen (the first viewing was a screener print with dodgy sound, mutilating the beauty of the translations and the lyricism of dialogues), meant mainly for people who’ve seen the film. Yeah, I know I’m late.

• A few words on the nature of the adaptation first. Bharadwaj has managed to open up an unusually interior play, shifting a chunk of the focus from individuals to the greater political realities of its setting, Kashmir. An epitome of inaction is turned into a politically charged youth, provoking and rising up against authorities at every available opportunity (he refers to Anantnag as Islamabad to Army personnel during his introductory scene). Numerous redundant questions concerning “Why Hamlet?” or “How much Hamlet?” have been put forth by commentators on the film. Any worthwhile adaptation, crossing the barrier of mediums, is an unfaithful one, to me. Going by the censor board’s dictat of forty one cuts to facilitate the release, one can safely assume that the film would never have seen the light of day, if not supported by the crutches of the Bard.
  
• An observation regarding the hyper-rationalizing nature of Bharadwaj and Basharat Peer’s screenplay is almost inevitable. As Baradwaj Rangan has pointed out, the sheer amount of background information fed to the viewer crosses the line eventually, turning into heavy-handed footnotes. I was intrigued by the spectral introduction of Roohdaar (an intelligent reworking of the ghost in the play), especially when he mysteriously proclaimed - “Main doctor ki rooh hoon”. But VB had to go ahead and ruin it with a protracted & exhaustive backstory, attuned to the realist aesthetic that he had chosen. And that remains the case throughout. Even Haider’s descent into madness has a medical term ascribed to it (post-traumatic stress disorder).
  
• I absolutely loved the post-modern riff of the two Salmans (Bhai-tards, to use the lexicon of the interwebz). Them and the scenes at the theater where the Army personnel while away their free time, serve as a rebuke to the slimy, inordinate preeminence and sovereignty of the behemoth called Bollywood.
• The film is interspersed with some of the most competent translations of lines from the play as well as original dialogues. Sporadic bursts of refined lyricisms (Haider’s grandfather laments, “Hamara aasmaan kaale parindon se bhara hua hai”) left me pining for more. The concerted effort to stick to a realist aesthetic hinders the film from attaining its full political potential.
  
• The stupendous performance delivered by Tabu as Ghazala/Gertrude deserves a special mention along with a nod towards the screenwriters. She becomes Kashmir itself; dazzlingly alluring, an object of desire, her body turned into a battleground (quite literally during the climactic sequence). Like Kashmir, she too fails in her attempts to protect her son(s) from the vicious traps of violence. Also, compared to Gertrude, she has considerably more agency during the denouement. Shades from Tabu’s portrayal as Lady Macbeth in Maqbool is clearly evident, with emotional blackmail as her preferred choice of weapon here. In hindsight, the film could very well have been named “Ghazala”.
• Constant harping on the Gandhian lines of Haider’s grandfather, “Inteqaam se sirf inteqaam paida hota hai”, almost reduces the film into a cautionary tale by offering the people of Kashmir with a moral choice, only to create a false equivalence between the systematic violence perpetrated by the state to continue its military occupation, and the resistance movement by the people against the regime which has succeeded to block almost all channels of non-violent dissent. Then again, this is a work of fiction, not a documentary.
• I thought that the film would have been better served by an ending wherein an agonized Haider points the gun at his incapacitated uncle’s head, cogitating on whether to pull the trigger or not, followed by a fade-out; which, in my view, would’ve perfectly exemplified the  suspended state of Kashmir’s existence.
• VB missed out on using Faiz’s “Gulon mein rang bhare” as a full-fledged song in the film, albeit, a stunning rendition is present in the soundtrack. Although, “Aaj ke naam” (Faiz, again, beautifully sung by Rekha Bharadwaj) provides a perfect finishing touch after a nihilistic finale.
• Hardly ever does a mainstream film come out of India which fails to please (or rather, chooses not to please) either of the parties involved in a conflict that it deals with. The usual knee-jerk reaction of the ultra-nationalist right, protesting (even calling for a ban) the portrayal of the Indian Army (the expectation is to show them as cherubic angels of mercy and fairness), along with the refusal of the Pakistan censor board to allow the film into its theatres (on grounds of it being “against the ideology of Pakistan”- due to cursory mentions of Operation Gibraltar), proves that the film has succeeded on that front – which is no mean feat.

Also, issued in public interest, chutzpah is pronounced as ‘hoot-spuh’ or ‘khoot-spuh’.

 

Jana Aranya - An unrecognised classic

When Satyajit Ray's body of work is dissected, critics are usually unanimous: Charulata (The Lonely Wife) is THE number one. The subtle nuances of the changing relationships between the principal characters is one of the great moments of cinema. Ray once also said that it was the only film he would direct in exactly the same manner if given a second chance. The Apu trilogy also figures among the greatest treasures of world cinema. In later years, of course, the magic of Goopy and Bagha and the suave polish of Feluda have been long been a part of Indian and particularly Bengali life and culture. Some of the most significant work that he did was towards the end of the sixties and the early seventies. Aranyer Din Ratri(Days and Nights in the forest), Seemabaddha, Pratidwandi, Ashani Sanket were all remarkable creations.But,what about Jana Aranya(The Middleman)?

This 1976 film seldom gets noticed and mentioned. Usually categorized as part of the `Calcutta Trilogy’ with Seemabaddha and Pratidwandi, the film is often dismissed as a minor work, not even a minor classic ,whereas several of the genius’ less distinguished works are more revered.

In my opinion, Jana Aranya represents a pinnacle of Ray’s film making craft. The script is lean and crisp and the whole film has a self-effacing feel minus even a hint of any kind of indulgence. Somnath, the protagonist of the film, was a most refreshing debut by Pradip Mukherjee who has to be one of the most likeable characters ever in a Ray film. It is a archetypal Ray film which features an acutely observed, personality-driven narrative and characters that are well-defined products of their surroundings. At the same time, its concerns are distinctly political, as it offers stinging commentary on the economic plight of 1976 India. At its core, Jana Aranya is a story of tainted innocence.Somnath is a shy young man who is surrounded by depravity. None of the rogues in his midst are blatantly evil. Rather, their villainy is subtle, and they justify their actions in the name of rat-race survival.

The film opens during a History final exam at Calcutta University. The invigilators monitoring the test take no actions to suppress the widespread cheating taking place, but protagonist Somnath ignores this. A bright student, he's too intent composing his answers and has no need to cheat. Still he is drawn into the fray when he is urged to pass on a cheat sheet note on to a classmate—clearly foreshadowing his future role as a "middleman." Due to the examiner's poor eyesight, Somnath receives only a mediocre grade and fails to graduate with honors due to this. That dooms his employment prospects since he's now lumped in with 100,000 applicants that respond to advertised positions. Getting in for an interview doesn't bode well either—a montage shows the absurdity of the questions, like "How much does the moon weigh?". In the company of his buddy Sukumar, he even importunes local politicians for a break. Made during the emergency, Ray clearly lets us know his thoughts, even including a sinister wall-caricature of Indira Gandhi apparently done by himself, without dropping his essential detachment from politics of any kind.

A slip on a banana peel plays a key role in the film, which causes Somnath to re-connect with an older acquaintance named Bishu Da - an exquisite confection by Utpal Dutt complete with East Bengali dialect -  who encourages Somnath to start up his own business and forget about seeking a job. Without prospects and intrigued by Bishu's success, Somnath says that he'll need to talk with his father, who has made his own deal behind Somnath's back—a proposal to marry the daughter of a cement factory owner (and take over). Not happy with this prospect, Somnath opts to learn about Bishu's "order supply" business. Essentially this means acting as an independent agent between wholesalers and retailers for everything from stationery to elephants. In Bengali, the word is "dalaal" that translates as "pimp" but Bishu insists that he consider this by a more palatable title of a "middleman." As help, he offers rent-free use of the office space for three months and even introduces him to several resourceful friends one of whom quickly masterminds Somnath’s first order for envelopes and office paper from a firm.

The characters Ray creates for this environment are brilliant : take the ancient, pernickety printer who while taking specifications for Somnath’s business cards reveals that ‘Banerjee’ can be spelt in a dozen different ways or the genial paan-chewing Mr. Adok, the sales-tax genius.
Simple and direct, Ray creates strong and engaging drama that reflects contemporary life in Calcutta—and still holds in urban circles over 35 years.Running parallel to Somnath’s modest success is the abject failure of his friend Sukumar. Ray contrasts the two households perfectly. Nothing can be more divergent than the two fathers — one endlessly moralizing while sipping tea supplied by the dutiful daughter-in-law and the other still forced to be the breadwinner of a large household.

The darkest part of the film begins with an attempt by Somnath to secure a large order to sell ‘Optical Whitener’- used to bleach and shine cloth- to a wealthy mill-owner, Mr.Goenka. As a sweetener, Somnath naively invites him for a meal. The man declines on health grounds. Somnath takes a ride home with the man. Ray moves from subtle to the obvious as an unspoken, inadvertent hint appears, missed by the staid Somnath.
Somnath finds himself seeking  the services of a “public relations specialist”, Mr. Mittir played by the irrepressible, imp-like figure of Robi Ghosh, another Bishuda contact and another luminous Ray creation. Armed with his show stopper watch besides an elephantine memory, the suit clad Mittir stalks prospective clients from the finest restaurants to prayer meetings and will stop at nothing to clinch a deal. Mittir’s research is able to precisely indicate what the man wants - the services of a prostitute. Somnath is unsettled by the proposition, and defers a decision until the appointed confirmation call from Mr. Goenka on the following afternoon, and is left alone to choose between financial gain and moral consequence. Ray provides a gritty, dark ride through Calcutta’s underbelly as Somnath and Mittir begin their search for a woman who is to be delivered to Mr.Goenka at a certain hotel. At one point Somnath’s loses interest in the initiative, and Mittir mercilessly exposes the contradictions in his character. Middle class hypocrisy, even in an essentially decent man, comes a cropper as Somnath finally seals the bargain. There is one final twist when disgustedly he loses stomach for what is he is doing. This is successfully negotiated more due to the “professional pride” of the lady of the night who having accepted his money will not let Somnath down. Finally the deed is done, leaving him richer but with an eternal bad taste in his mouth.

Ray's sound-design is remarkable in the film. From the very start, when Somnath is pictured taking his final exam, there's no background music; all you hear is the squeaking of pens on paper. The film's silences are more attention-getting and mesmerizing than the most demanding background music.
Using a lyrical narrative, Ray depicts the hypocrisy of economic prosperity and professional success. Somnath's daily trips to the employment offices invariably take him through city streets riddled with homeless people and beggars, under a graffiti sign that reads: "1971 is the year of victory". Ironically, the potential sale of optical whiteners proves to be Somnath's darkest hour. Note the minimal, candle lit scene where a disillusioned Somnath alludes to his unpalatable task.

The Middleman is a fascinating, contemporary parable on the corruption of the human soul, a poignant tale of an idealistic young man who stumbles into a corrupt world outside of his creation, and is swallowed into the chaos. Terribly parochial and fragile concepts of morality and dignity are bludgeoned with Satyajit Ray's acid humor, albeit compassion and sensitivity worthy of Ray alone weave through the fabric of the story simultaneously. The film would be melodramatic in lesser hands or if it was not so searingly close to realities. In the hands of Ray, it turns into a brilliant x-ray image of an ever-degrading society.
The film is at its most astute when Ray offers up knowing vignettes featuring the subtly and not-so-subtly repulsive characters with whom Somnath deals.

For the humanist that Ray was, this is his only work which does not end on an optimistic note, easily qualifying it as the darkest film Ray made.

"I felt corruption, rampant corruption all around, and I didn't think there was a solution," - Ray declared, in reference to why he chose to make Jana Aranya.

"I was only waiting, perhaps subconsciously, for a story that would give me an opportunity to show this."

Extracts from a Banaras Diary - Part III - The last lap..

CONTINUED FROM PART II

March 20 - Shot scene of Harihar's collapse on the steps of Chowshati Ghat. Very satisfactory work. A strong wind ruffled the surface of the river and lent movement to the shots. Kanu Babu fell most realistically, got a nasty cut in the knee.
                       Bloated dead body in the river close to bank and camera. Bathers unperturbed. Probably a common sight.

March 22 - 5.30 a.m. - Started with shot of Apu fetching water from the river. The idea was to have a long shot with Apu int the foreground and a solitary wrestler in the far-background, and no other figures. But bathers had already arrived and we had a tough time persuading them to stay out of water, and out of camera-field, until end of shot.
                                             From the ghats to the lanes. Concluding shots of scene of Apu playing hide and seek with friends. Clearing the lanes of unwanted elements(animate and inanimate) for long shots a Herculean task. Pack up at 4 p.m. and proceed directly to the Vishwanath temple for shots and recording of Arati.
            Durga sets up tape recorder in a house across the lane opposite the temple. Mrinal worms his way through milling crowd of devotees with mike and 90 ft. cable which just reaches the southern door of the inner sanctum. Temple attendants get busy stretching a cordon to keep off crowd who push and crane their necks to get a sight of the image which is now being decorated for the Arati. We wait, sweating, acutely conscious of the audacious incongruity of the camera.
            The time arrives. We hold our breath. The great chant begins. In the deafening crescendo, I can just hear myself shouting 'start' and 'cut'.
           The Arati goes on for an hour. The end finds us - and our raw stock - exhausted. As we are about to pack up, word arrives from Mohant that he would like to hear the sound that we have recorded. Would we be good enough to have our equipment conveyed to his apartment and the sound played back to him ?

           It takes us half-an-hour to reach Mohant's place with the equipment, another half to install it, and a full hour to play back and pack up. When we finally take leave of the great man, it is quarter to eleven. He smiles his approval. I almost expect him to tip us.....  

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ END ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

TEST CRICKET – The ROAD Ahead

Where is cricket headed? I wish somebody knew. And if you are a lover of Test cricket, the signs from the last year are terrifying.

Brett Lee has chosen the shorter forms of the game over Tests. Kevin Pietersen has said Test cricket could be dead in 10 years. Chris Gayle proudly declared that he will not be a wee bit sad if Test cricket met its demise, while he was still the captain of the West Indies Test team. And Gary Kirsten expressed similar fears, if not in the same words. As far as West Indies goes, honestly no one will be surprised if the players gave up on playing as an international team altogether, and became T20 freelancers. Muttiah Muralitharan, who had a realistic shot at 1000 Test wickets, decided to hang up his whites, though he will carry on playing one-day cricket till the World Cup in 2011. And thereafter he will focus solely on Twenty20 cricket. Murali had a frighteningly simple explanation - Test cricket is “hard work”.

Perhaps things are not as bad as they sound. Lee's decision is understandable. He has got the game for Test cricket but not the body, and maybe he would have made the same decision, even without the existence of the IPL. Pietersen is given to theatrics at the best of times. And in a team sport, the high of representing the nation would perhaps always be stronger than the lure of cash for most players; after all, international cricketers are not exactly on the verge of starvation.

But even if you are not paranoid, this is, without doubt, the most volatile and unsettling period there has been in cricket. Almost everything - tradition, faith, beliefs, and loyalties - is open to re-evaluation. In many ways it is cricket's hour of reckoning, but sadly, there are no clear options to choose from.

Dennis Lillee bowling with a 9 man slip cordon - One of the most beautiful sights of Test cricket

Cricket has always been the most unusual of sports. Grand, subtle, nuanced, cerebral and leisurely, it cannot be followed as a passing hobby (and I’m not talking about a T20 circus). Test cricket demands devotion and engagement, and those willing to submit themselves are rewarded handsomely, for it is a treat for the senses. As a sport it has been in conflict with the pace of modern living for quite some time, but at the same time it is a reassuring affirmation that all good things are timeless. Also, no other sport is as rooted in national identity as cricket. Match-winning performances in bilateral Test contests have always been topping a cricketer’s achievements despite the rampant commercialization of the game in recent years- there IS something very noble about representing your country.

 

All this is being challenged now. The conflict between Tests and Twenty20 is stark and severe. Twenty20 has no past and it needs no context. It's a game without a pause and it relies on brazen entertainment. And the IPL is doing its best to subvert and even obliterate national identity. None of this is necessarily a bad thing. In fact, it can be argued that all of these are contributing to make cricket a more contemporary and accessible sport. The reality for cricket is that it can afford neither to leave its past behind or to close its eyes to the future. For those who run the game, the way out of the fix is to find the middle path and to be able to do that; they must rise above parochial interests and their egos.

The biggest opportunity knocks in the form of the Future Tours Programme for 2012 to 2020. It could be one of the most important documents in the history of cricket. The next decade will be decisive for cricket, and the FTP can act as a significant statement of intent from the administrators.

The IPL is seen by many cricket boards as the single most disruptive factor in international cricket. It challenges the bilateralism, and it is beyond most of the national boards to match its financial power. This concern is also tinged with envy. There are no two ways about it. The IPL isn't about to go away. And inevitably the realization is slowly seeping through that there can only be one of its kind. The logical way forward would be to create a space for the IPL in the international calendar. It shouldn't come down to a moral choice between cash and country for the players. That's not fair. But equally, special status for the IPL must come with strings attached. It can start with the recognition that it is more than a domestic tournament. Being part of the international calendar should mean that its schedule is regulated just like the other international tournaments. With its television audience, India has the market, but it needs the rest of the world to supply the talent to keep a tournament like the IPL attractive. As cricket's undisputed leader, the Indian board bears a moral responsibility towards world cricket, but it is also in its own long-term interests.

Still, the IPL is only part of the issue. There would have been fears about the future of Test cricket even if the IPL didn't exist. The truth is that without quality, Test cricket will wither away. The ICC needs to preserve it as the highest form and to retain its appeal, Test cricket must be played at the highest level. Cricket's reality has changed. Test cricket between unequals, and between those not skilled enough, will draw no viewers, and will be a strain on the international calendar. A Test series between Bangladesh and West Indies would only serve as another nail on Test cricket’s coffin.

Several ideas have been floating about, relating to how to make Test cricket more attractive, including a Test championship and cutting the length down to four days. The main problem, however, is not the length of matches .Those who like their three-hour entertainment  will still find a four-day game much too long, and those who like Test cricket will continue to be drawn to it if the central contest - between bat and ball - remains absorbing enough.

 

In order to survive, and prosper, Test cricket must cut out the under-skilled, not chop a day. The dream that Papua New Guinea and Namibia would one day play Test cricket was always a false one. For associate nations, there is no better tool than Twenty20. If anything, Test cricket needs to get more elitist: more four or five-match series between the top countries; no two-match series; and a second tier below the top seven, with the seventh spot being rotated on a promotion-relegation basis. It will mean some radical changes to the structure of the game, and it will surely not be well-received politically. 

But if hard choices are not made now, there might not be a second chance of survival for this wonderful game.

Extracts from a Banaras Diary ...Part II ...(after a long hiatus :P )

CONTINUED FROM PART I....

March 3- Called on the Mohant Laxminarayan of the Viswanath temple. The purpose was to persuade him to give us facilities for shooting inside the temple (something which had never been done before). Pandey, our intermediary, had insisted that I shouldn't be reticent but should 'project my personality' which he was sure would clinch the deal. Two things stood in the way: (a) my lack of chaste Hindi and Mohant's lack of any other language, and (b) the fact that the chairs we were given to sit upon had been designed for the maximum comfort of bugs.
                         It seems at least two more visits will be required before the great Mohant condescends to give a nod of that immobile head of him.
        Stopped on our way back at the temple, we were told that we were in time for the Saptarshi Arati. A spine-tingling experience. Those who miss it miss one of the great audio-visual treats. Pity I can't use it in any except a decorative manner in the present film....
 

March 4- Visited the Durga temple. People who come here with the intent of offering a prayer to the deity usually do so with half a mind, the other half being on the monkeys. These animals go about the place as if they owned it. Irresistibly funny, they sometimes go for your bag of peanuts with alarming viciousness. But when they swing from the bell-ropes and perform an impromptu carillon, the sights and sounds are no longer merely comic.
                    Rich possibility of a scene here, with Apu.

March 8- Worked on the script. The opening is a problem, always is. Long shots establishing locale are a cliche. But should one entirely dispense with them in a film which opens in Banaras? The urge not to do so is strong.
          As in Pather Panchali, I find it has helped in not having a tight script. Working in these circumstances one must leave a lot of room for improvisation within the framework of a broad scheme which one must keep in one's head.


March 15- At the ghats at 5 a.m. to shoot pigeons. Memorable fiasco. The shot was to be of the pigeons taking flight in a body from their perch on the cornices and making enormous circular sweeps in the sky, as is the way with them. We had a fairly potent looking bomb which we meant to explode to set the pigeons flying. The camera was set up and Subir had set the match to the fuse, when, with barely half a minute to go, Nimai started making frantic but indefinable gestures. We could sense something was wrong, and Subir made an eloquently mimed appeal to the bomb to refrain from exploding. The bomb went off, the pigeons performed nobly, but the camera didn't turn. And then we discovered that the motor had not been connected to the battery.
           Luckily, after three or four sweeps the pigeons were back on their perch, and with the second bomb (we had four) we had our shot.
    Took the 9'o'clock train to Moghulsarai. Ramani Babu (seventy-year old resident of Banaras we picked up on the ghat) with us to play Uncle Bhabataran : also Karuna and Pinky. Shooting inside a third-class compartment. Sarbajaya and Apu leave Banaras with Bhabataran. Train crosses bridge. S and A look out of the window. B eats an orange, spit pis out of window. We give the old man an orange but he consumes it before the camera is ready, so we give him another. Shot is ok, subject to the Tri-X performing as expected.


TO BE CONTINUED...

Extracts from a Banaras Diary ...Part I...

Reading a book, especially one which you've been trying to find a copy of for a long time, is a source of immense pleasure. Currently, I'm privileged enough to indulge in this pleasure while reading Satyajit Ray's "Our Films,Their Films". Amazingly, after a number of failed attempts, I got hold of a battered first edition copy of this gem of a book while flipping through cheap pirated versions of contemporary novels in a roadside book-stall at Gariahat. What were the odds???!!...weird ..eh??.

Right from the first passage, I've been thoroughly amazed at the brilliance and insight of each and every article in the first part of the book,namely,"Our Films".So, I thought of sharing a few excerpts from my coveted possession for fellow Ray lovers who haven't had the chance to read it (also partly because I don't really have an original post right now [:P]).

The following passages has been taken from Ray's diary while shooting for Aparajito(The Unvanquished) during March,1956,in Banaras.

"March 1,1956-- Set out at 5 a.m. to explore the ghats.Half an hour to sunrise,yet more light than one would have thought,and more activity. The earliest bathers come about 4 a.m.,I gather.The pigeons are not active yet,but the wrestlers are.Incomparable 'atmosphere'. One just wants to go on absorbing it, being chastened and invigorated by it.The thought of having to work-planning, picking sites and extras, setting up camera and microphone, staging action- is worrying. But here, if anywhere, is a truly inspiring setting. It is not enough to say that the ghats are wonderful or exciting or unique. One must get down to analyzing the reasons for their uniqueness, their impact. The more you probe, the more is revealed, and the more you know what to include in your frame and what to leave out.
                                                         In the afternoon, the same ghats present an utterly different aspect. Clutters of immobile widows make white patches on the greyish ochre of the broad steps. The bustle of ablution is absent. And the light is different, importantly so. The ghats face east. In the morning, they get the full frontal light of the sun, and the feeling of movement is heightened by the play of cast shadows. By 4 p.m. the sun is behind the tall buildings whose shadows now reach the opposite bank. Result-- a diffused light until sunset perfectly in tune with the subdued nature of the activity. Morning scenes in the ghat must be shot in the morning, and afternoon scenes in the afternoon.




March 2-- Explored the lanes of Bengalitola. Those of Ganesh mahalla are perhaps the most photogenic. What makes them so?-- The curves in the lanes, the breaks in the facades of the houses, the pattern created by the doors, windows, railings, verandahs, columns ... here the light is qualitatively unvarying, and one could pass off a morning shot as an afternoon one.
                                                                                                                                                  We chat with the people of the neighbourhood and they promise cooperation. Where would we be without it? We are in fact at the mercy of the residents here and must deal with them with utmost caution. The smallest faux pas and the whole arduous enterprise may be wrecked."


TO BE CONTINUED.....

"Aila......No SACHIN ???!!!"

With the enormous amount  of runs Sachin Tendulkar has been scoring throughout the past year,the master blaster's fans around the globe have had more than enough reasons to celebrate.He also swept the coveted ICC awards this year,sending his fans into a double frenzy.However,with the recent uproar over Sachin's exclusion from XYZ magazine's  "100 Best films of the decade" list,Tendulkar fans may have just gone too far.

XYZ magazine recently released a list of the best 100 movies from the past decade,leaving Sachin fans all over India outraged.The cause of the uproar, seemingly, was the absence of Sachin's name from the list, with angry fans not ready to come to terms with the basic fact that Sachin Tendulkar is NOT a film.Experts justified the fans' anger, stating that Tendulkar fans scan effectively every list published over the world searching for Sachin's name in them, and have ample reasons to be disappointed if they do not find it.

Fans displayed their rage by arranging dharnaas,burning public buses and occasionally burning posters of films included in the list. Protests spread across the country,with the demand of  Sachin's inclusion at the no.1 spot in the list. Many of the fans were heard screaming,"Who is this City of God? Is it's batting average better than Sachin's? And what about Lord of the Rings?? It doesn't even come near the number of centuries Sach has scored! Are we supposed to believe that these lousy films,who haven't even played one bit of cricket in their lives,is better than Him? What a joke..hmmmpf !! ".
The repercussions were felt across the web also.Tendulkar admirers started posting angry protest slogans on various websites (occasionally totally out of context) and spreading Rajnikant jokes replacing Rajni with Sachin .Cricket discussions boards on certain sites also saw heated debates, which quite often ended with a sludge of half-remembered statistics and a general consensus on the uselessness of Ravindra Jadeja.


This unforeseen drama has triggered a bigger national debate concerning the discrimination between films and cricketers and whether they should be treated equally.TV news channels across India have started airing live phone-in shows ,namely, "Films,Cricket,God" and "Movies,Sachin,Recession,Michelle Obama,Mango Fruity...err.. what were we discussing??", with cricket analysts such as Celina Jaitley,Dino Morea,Shilpa Shetty and Navjot Singh Sidhu.

"I look forward to a day when films and cricketers would be considered equal and will not be discriminated on the basis of petty batting averages,box office collections,no. of centuries or no. of Oscars.I'm sure a day will come when Pan's Labyrinth could be the opening batsman for Australia or  Kevin Pietersen could win a Golden Globe award", remarked Shilpa Shetty,thrilled at the prospect of edifying viewers with her cricket-intellect once again. Mr.Morea was busy flaunting his newly acquired 10-pack abs through a transparent tee, while Ms.Jaitley could only utter the name of her next film, when asked to remark.

Commenting on the situation, Mr.Sidhu hollered ,"Wallowing in foolishness,my friend,is like a rhinoceros in an African bog! When you are eating with the devil, you've got to have long utensils!", leaving everyone else in the studio scratching their heads.

Amidst all the brouhaha,even Sachin could not retain his typical calm composure.When first informed by a reporter, he squealed, "Ailaaaaa!" and fainted, leaving whole of India wondering which side of the argument he was on.


P.S.-All characters in this article are fictitious.If they bear any resemblance to anybody in real life,it should be taken as mere coincidence. And,it's a satire.....if you still didn't get it! [:P]


To the reader--If you like the piece,please post comments and follow my blog. Even if you don't like it, please post comments pointing out where you feel it didn't work. Cheerio!