Pride of India

An article by V. Gangadhar in 'The Hindu' magazine...

IF Karratadipalayam village in Erode district did not have a statue, it is high time it had one. No, not of any political bigwig but of the late Professor G.V. Loganathan, one of the victims of the horrible shootout at the Virginia Tech university in the U.S.

Men like Loganathan represented the best that India ever produced and sent abroad. They did us proud in everything they did, maintaining high standards in life and work and symbolised how talent can overcome problems like poverty and lack of opportunities at home.

Similar experiences

I can visualise how Loganathan spent his early days. Studying in a Tamil medium government school in Modakuruchi near Coimbatore, he must have walked to school and back, probably barefoot and denied such luxuries like ironed clothes, pocket money or entertainment like cinema. His only focus must have been high grades in school and later, college. There is something very similar to my own middle class upbringing and the P.S.G. College of Technology where he studied was familiar to me. I once played some cricket matches there for my alma mater, Government Victoria College.

Loganathan's association with Purdue University, where he completed his Ph.D., also brought back memories. Only last November I spent nine days at this university town with a large Indian student population and noted for its engineering courses. The academic life and environment were invigorating and offered me some clues to the real greatness of the U.S. to which men like Loganathan contributed.

Encouraging ambience

American universities woo, recruit, and nurture academic talent from all over the world and India has been one of the best happy hunting grounds. Once such intellectuals were brought to campus life, they worked in an enviable environment of academic freedom, high salaries and a way of life which allowed them to focus on their jobs. The likes of Loganathan responded warmly and the U.S. reaped the benefits. What are the benefits? Great academic research, honours and Nobel Prizes.

The importance of academic freedom cannot be underestimated. The faculty finalise the syllabi, recruit the best available talent, grade the students while the college administrators collect funds which are mostly used for academic purposes. At Purdue, and I am sure it must have been the same at Virginia Tech, I witnessed instances of this academic freedom. The easy, informal relationship between the teachers and the taught appealed to me. Students wore shorts and T-shirts and discussed issues with the faculty over glasses of beer.

Academics like Loganathan no doubt taught classes, held examinations and graded students. But I found on U.S. campuses that the good teachers encouraged students to think independently. They threw ideas in the class, sat back and listened to animated discussions. Projects which revolved around new ideas got better grades. Out of this approach emerged new ideas which are the basis of a sound education. The faculty is quick to recognise that there could be several approaches to one issue. Here in India, quite often, teachers discourage students from thinking independently and not reproducing exactly what had been taught to them in class. Our academic stagnation is mainly due to such an approach.

True to origins

Despite the adulation he received abroad, like many other Indians, Dr. Loganathan at heart remained an Indian, visiting his hometown regularly and asking his parents to join him in the U.S. Obviously, the parents were not in favour of such a changed life and chose to remain at home. It is a tragedy that their first-ever visit out of the country should be for the final rites of their distinguished son. But every one of us should be proud of the tribute paid to the late professor by Dr. Wlliam Knocke, head of the department where he worked. "Dr. Loganathan was one of the truly great class room educators within the College of Engineering. He combined a high degree of organisation in the class room, expert knowledge of the subject matter and a passion for student success into classroom experience."

Yet, it was the very same university and the student population which produced 23-year-old South Korean Cho Seung-Hul. We do not know what evil passions raged in his mind to shoot and kill 33 young people. U.S. campus life, at least on the surface, appeared to be happy and lively. Cho, a student of English literature, might not have even known Dr. Loganathan. But that is the irony of life. We share the sense of loss felt by his family and his university.

Reservation is driving us away!

Aman Jagannathan, 18, had never been arrested before. Neither had he ever publicly protested against the government.

Last year, the police picked him up twice -- while protesting at India Gate and outside the Supreme Court -- in New Delhi. He and his friends were in custody for 6 to 7 hours.

A friendly and eloquent medical student at India's best medical college, Aman is unsure if he wants his identity revealed as he looks back at the past year.

"I know I am not saying anything illegal but I just want to be careful," says the second year MBBS student at the All India Institute of Medical Sciences, sitting on the steps of the Institute's playground. "I don't want to be known on campus as being against OBCs because I am not. I am just against the idea of reservation. I don't want to be misunderstood."

Last year, the government decided to increase the number of reserved seats in central government-run elite educational institutes like the Indian Institutes of Technology, Indian Institutes of Management and AIIMS by 27 per cent for the Other Backward Classes, taking reservations up to 50 per cent. Students on the campus were upset and agitated.

Aman knew he could not just sit back. He wanted to do something. He wanted to be heard.

"I am not against social justice but I feel merit should be appreciated. Reserve seats for those who don't have the economic means. Reserve seats for the children of those in the armed forces. Nobody will protest if you reserve seats for those who earn less than a lakh every year. Why should caste be the overarching factor? It's not my fault I was born a Brahmin."

In December, the Central Educational Institutions (Reservation in Admission) Bill, 2006 was passed in Parliament. But for the students, their fight was far from over.

The protests by the students resulted in the matter being taken to the Supreme Court, and on March 29, the court granted a stay on the government's 27 per cent reservation Bill for the Other Backward Classes.

There was jubilation on the campus, but Aman has taken the news with restrained happiness. He is happy that their agitation has borne fruit, that his hunger strike has contributed towards halting a government law, at least for now.

"Yes, it has given us some hope but we can't say things have gone our way. The court says it is a temporary status. I don't know how long the stay will remain, maybe for a year. I am rather pessimistic. I feel the government will think of a way to get past the court order."

As he had expected, the Centre moved the Supreme Court seeking vacation of its stay.

What Aman feels upset about is the government's disregard for merit and hard work.

"It's like they take you into the Institute and then tell you, you don't qualify (for higher exams). It's like stabbing you in the back."

If he doesn't get a seat for the Post Graduate course at AIIMS, Aman thinks he will be compelled to go abroad in the future. "It makes no sense in staying here then, it's not as if there's going to be a profusion of seats. Reservation is driving us away."

The uncertainty about getting a seat in the next course is the biggest concern for students at AIIMS. Some of the country's best minds feel they have to battle against reservations at every stage.

Every year, AIIMS takes in 50 students for the MBBS degree. Thirty-three seats are open for the general category, 11 seats are reserved for Scheduled Castes/Scheduled Tribes, one for a physically handicapped student, and five seats are kept for international students nominated by the government. For the Post Graduate course, as many as 15,000 students appear for just 40 seats.

"You might be the topper and still not get a PG seat. It is tougher to crack the PG exam here. On the other hand, getting admission in America may be difficult but it has certainty," says Ekta Bakshi, a junior resident.

It was the long battle ahead at every stage of their study of medicine that made many like Ekta join the protest last year.

"If it was a one time thing I would have fought it out in the next entrance but this was going to happen at every stage of my career. For PG, residency, senior residency, getting my first faculty position and then to get promoted."

It's a feeling shared by final year MBBS student Mohit Mohanty. Sipping his coffee at the campus cafe on a Sunday afternoon, Mohit says he always wanted to be a doctor but as much as he wants to do his PG at AIIMS, he has no choice.

"I'd like to stay here but if I don't get admission in PG, I have to look at America. Half my batch is looking towards going abroad. Here if you slog for 24 hours, you get Rs 20,000. You really don't get paid in India, unless you are doing private practice but I don't want to steal or be part of a system that steals from the people," he says firmly.

Mohit, like Ekta and Aman, makes it clear that he does not want to be identified by his real name for this feature. After being a very vocal member of Youth for Equality -- an organisation set up to oppose reservation which got its name in a Delhi coffee shop -- he does not want to be in the limelight because it upsets his parents.

"They think they sent me here to study and I am becoming a politician. The fact is that I want to do something in life and that doesn't mean becoming a politician. No normal student these days wants to be a politician. It is being the very person you detest."

In retrospect, he is happy that he took a stand. "We had to get involved because no one else was at that time. People never expected a protest like this could happen in a medical college. Medical students really don't have the time for this, they already have enough to study."

What began as a symbolic gesture of protest became a large-scale movement that even took the students by surprise in terms of its impact and response.

"Actually what pushed us was that other higher institutes did not come out in protest like us. Others said it does not affect us. It was so in AIIMS too, there were many who were going to America but who still participated. Who said we may not stay in our country but it will stay our country," says Mohit. "Later we can at least say we tried -- even if it is not going to change anything."

The anti-reservation movement at AIIMS began with three AIIMS senior residents, who sat on a dharna at lunchtime every day. One of them was Dr Anil Sharma.

"Then we were 7, 11 and counting. I remember, it started on May 13," says Anil.

They would assemble every day under a tree opposite the library. Slowly, others joined them and in a month's time, there were around 80 students who would finish their lunch quickly and join the gathering.

"Many laughed at us saying Yeh kya sarkar ko badlengey? We did not want to become big netas, no -- it was a time, it was an issue and we will continue to fight for it. In the larger interest of the country somebody has to come forward. Why do we think that a Bhagat Singh should be born in our neighbour's family and not in ours?" asks Anil.

The son of a professor of genetics, Anil says his grandfather was poor and died very young. His grandmother cut grass and educated Anil's father, who used to study under a lamp post at night.

"My father did not have any reservation. When the Constitution of India, the State of India doesn't give me any advantage of being born in a so-called forward caste, why should I be disadvantaged?" continues Anil. "We are not against reservation but it should be for the needy, not the greedy. What is happening in society is not the responsibility of the Constitution. The Constitution has to be applied equally to all."

The turning point of the anti-reservation movement took place in Mumbai when the police lathi-charged protesting medical students outside the city's Raj Bhavan. The incident resulted in rallying support in different parts of India.

Meanwhile, in Delhi, water cannons were used against junior doctors at India Gate. "When they were injured and brought into the casualty ward here, it was the bursting point," says Dr Kaushal Mishra, president of Youth for Equality.

After these incidents Kaushal says all premium medical colleges went on strike. Around 150 juniors sat on a hunger strike and were joined by other medical colleges in the city.

"A week after the hunger strike began, there were around 15,000 people on the AIIMS campus every day. We had signatures on chart papers running through the length of the lawn, which is around 150 metres -- we had 15 folds of that paper. We used to meet 2,000 to 3,000 people every day. I may have been the 3rd or 4th person to stand in that anti-quota protest but today I am on top of the list."

Looking back, he feels the movement was highlighted because AIIMS provides a readymade media item for the news business. Moreover, it was not expected of doctors -- seen as sedate protestors -- to come up with such a vociferous agitation.

"Had it begun in Bombay it would not have had that effect. Because the seat of power is in Delhi, we could negotiate directly with the HRD minister and other Congress emissaries. They were expecting some action from Delhi University which has 80,000 students on its rolls, AIIMS was the last place," says Anil Sharma.

As presidents of the Resident Doctors Association and Youth For Equality respectively, Anil Sharma and Kaushal Mishra are spokespersons for the students opposed to reservation at AIIMS. The doctors ended the strike when the Supreme Court ordered them back to work and assured them that it would look into their grievances.

Sitting in the Resident Doctors Association office at the AIIMS boys hostel, they say the average middle class Indian has become a bedroom and drawing room protestor. "The mentality is that till there is no fire raging in my house, I am not bothered," says Anil.

The duo say a change has to come in society and Youth for Equality is a beginning. "We want to be political in the sense that our voice should be heard in the forum that makes the laws," says Anil.

YFE members contested the Mumbai and Delhi municipal elections this year.

"Our target is to change Parliament by 2019," says Kaushal, who spends the time after his eight-hour shift at AIIMS' Emergency department involved in YFE work.

In a high-pressure job and with wives and family living on the campus in accommodation they pay for, Anil and Kaushal say they hardly have had time outside work and the movement. "But it is a small price," says Anil.

He says the issue has also led to a polarisation on campus that did not exist before. "The feeling that he is not from my category etc has started. If the government has succeeded in dividing such an educated campus like AIIMS, think of the rest of society.

The divide between general category and reserved category students was acute immediately after the agitation, says Ekta Bakshi.

"Things have changed a little since then, but there is an underlying tension. Nobody has the time to think about caste every day but when a fight breaks then it just comes up."

Many of the students seemed to have moved on. Some like Mohit Mohanty believe that even if the 27 per cent increase was to come about, it would not make much difference.

"For most of us," he says, "the odds were already against us, so it would be marginally worse. The 27 per cent increase would affect the MBBS course most because there are not enough hostels and required infrastructure."

But the doctors all agree that had they not taken a stand last year, their grievances would never have received a hearing in court. They feel the stay order granted by the Supreme Court is a victory in that sense.

"We are hopeful," says Anil Sharma. "Even if the government appeals, the court may not allow the creamy layer to go through. And if the creamy layer is not included then for politicians the whole purpose of reservation will be destroyed -- after all, it is about vote bank politics."

The mood in the campus was generally despondent till news of the stay order arrived. "They had thought it was all over but now they feel as if they have got another life. This is not the final judgment. In practicality, it is 50% for pro-reservation and 50% for anti-reservation," says Kaushal Mishra.

"Still, it is a ray of hope."

My videos: Atomic Energy Junior College and Central School-3

I should have posted this earlier. My junior college and school video. I had a good time filming the video. Its been 10 years......decade nostalgia!!

Here they are......

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PPpXAXHQ-_4
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HoexVUChFMo
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xM7QpebHqIs

'I don't talk about causes, I would rather do my bit'

AR Rahman speaks to us about his jugalbandi with wife Sehra, cricket,
and issues close to his heart.

AR Rahman walks in, straight from the airport, into a room full of
waiting journos and photographers, all in a frenzy to outdo the other
for an exclusive with this self-confessed recluse.

Anyone else might have blown his fuse for having the microphone
shoved under his nose for the umpteenth time, and being asked to
say 'something' for Team India. But not Rahman. He smiles politely,
and refuses to say anything that doesn't concern him and his work.

Doesn't he like cricket? "I do, but this is hardly the way to show
it," he says. So what does he feel for, so much that it
shows? "Causes. I want to remove poverty from India, and change the
immunity that we have developed towards it. I want to do a lot for
the specially challenged people. I want to change a lot of things.

But I don't talk about them either, for I'd like to do my bit and see
that making a change." Like his first English solo for the UN, Pray
For Me Brother? "Yes. This is my first humble step in making music
that is for the whole world as an audience. I was very nervous when
the song was released. I'm glad it's worked," says Rahman.

Amidst all this, no one notices a shy, quiet woman standing a few
paces away, waiting to catch Rahman's eye. His wife, Sehra. "We have
flown in straight from Glasgow. He must be very hungry," she says
softly.

Is it always like this? "Always. I get to see more of him at concerts
and TV than in reality," she smiles. Our photographer wants her to be
clicked, but she manages to evade him, and go and stand in a corner.

Back to Rahman. His recent compositions have been for three
contrasting films – Sivaji, Lord of the Rings, and now Akbar Jodha
(excluding Guru, that is). How does it feel to be composing in
different languages and time frames at the same time? "Terrifying,"
laughs Rahman.

"To wake up one morning and find yourself working on an epic, and a
commercial Tamil number together can be petrifying." Sometime ago,
he'd said that he could not be unapologetic while presenting his kind
of music to a Western audience.

Has that changed now? "To a large extent, yes. But if one's used to
eating burgers, one can't develop a taste for paav bhaaji overnight.
There has to be a bridge, and that's my music's flavour – 'bridgey',"
he says.

From a distance, Sehra tries to catch Rahman's eyes again. But he's
busy posing for our lensman. "Do I look sleepy? I've hardly slept
since a couple of days," he says. So how does he spend his leisure
time? "I try and spend time with my children." The couple has three
kids – Khatija, Rahima and Ameen – two daughters and a son. "My kids
love my music, thankfully.

My eldest daughter is already learning music," he says. At this
point, we request a picture with his wife. And finally, he looks for
her, their eyes meet, and he nods for her to join him. Your wife is
so shy, how does she handle all the fame, and recognition? "She
handles our home, I take care of the rest," he quips.

Nishabd - RGV Interview

He lives in the eye of the storm.

Ram Gopal Varma is used to kicking up controversy but that's never stopped him from making films with daring subjects.

His latest, Nishabd, is about an old man in love with a teenager. The catch? It stars Amitabh Bachchan, hence the inevitable scandal. Raja Sen caught up with Ramu to get the scoop. Here's what they talked about:

So Nishabd has a pretty rocking new song. Where did that come from?

Oh yeah. I just wanted one song to capture the emotion of an old man, his angst, his guilt, his conflict. So I asked Vishal Bhardwaj to do a song. It was the first time we worked together after Satya, and he was great. He got Mr Bachchan to sing a song called Rozaana, and I think it really captured the mood of the film.

Your film is about a 60-year-old man and a barely-adult girl. Aren't you annoyed every time comparisons with Lolita come about, which was a story dealing with paedophilia?

I'm really not bothered. The media makes up its own mind. They'll call it 'RGV's Lolita,' because they think it's a good headline. It's an amazing novel and maybe I've been influenced by it, but Nishabd isn't about that.

So what, in your own words, is Nishabd about?

Fundamentally speaking, bodies age, feelings don't. Age is a relative thing, and at one level, it is all in the mind. But society has conditioned us towards so many wrongs. There are restrictions of family, religion... And then, in this case, there is not just an age gap, but the man is a married man in love with his daughter's friend. Which brings about, for him internally, a big question of sin. There is a sense of responsibility, but a question of temptation might overpower that.

So in Nishabd, I want to show his emotional state. I want audiences to feel his conflict, not judge him.

While the subject is a potentially volatile one, your trailers seem sensitive. Would you call this a film with shock value, or is that just to lure audiences?

See, the subject is the subject. I think there is no shock in Nishabd. You can write that for your readers right now. I think it's the most emotional film I've ever made. The thing about audiences is that we can't generalise them, it's very unfair. My film could connect with them, could offend them, sure. But my attempt is to definitely make an impact, based on the convincing power of the narrative. If that is strong, the film will work.

And Jiah Khan, the poison ivy for Mr Bachchan in the film, is a brand new heroine. Wasn't it a bit of a gamble taking an unknown actress for such a demanding role?

She's absolutely new, and that's what I really wanted. I wanted an unknown entity, someone fresh. That's the only way this film could be convincing. And I think she has the correct look for Nishabd.

Is she a good actress?

I feel there are only well acted or badly acted roles, and no such thing as a good actor or actress. In the same way, there are well directed or badly directed films, no good or bad directors. I think it's all about using the talent properly, in the context of the script. I think Jiah's done well in this film, and for this role.

And then there's Mr Bachchan...

Casting him was integral to the film. Because I wanted to take someone of such stature, someone that much larger than life, and then show a fall from grace. If someone that respectable, someone you look upto that much can get affected by these feelings, it'll make you and me take the situation that much more seriously.

I think it's his best [work], simply because it doesn't look like a performance. He's absolutely in the character. He's just there. It's phenomenal.

Did he have issues about the role, considering how even Lolita adaptations in the west leave big actors with floundering careers?

Yes and no. I think, because of Sarkar, we developed a great relationship and so he has this trust in me as a director. He and I both know I wouldn't do something that would be demeaning for him. And while he agreed to do the movie, he got the maximum negative feedback for accepting this film -- even more than agreeing to play Gabbar Singh in my Sholay! Even his longtime makeup-man, who has never disagreed with him, told him on the first day of the shoot that he shouldn't do this film.

But everyone who has actually read the script was completely moved by it. And I'm so grateful that he believes in me, and that he stood by the script.

You are a director known for giving new faces a break, particularly actresses. What do you think when most of these discoveries fizzle out into nothing?

See, stars work because of familiarity. They fill theatres because audiences know who they are. There is a brand equity. But there are films strong enough to not need stars, or films that should not be made with stars at all, where only fresh faces will do. So I make the decisions accordingly.

As for people who haven't been successful, it's because they haven't been utilised correctly. And sometimes we make mistakes. Mistakes aren't made wantonly, and if I see something hasn't worked, I don't want to repeat that mistake.

So what went wrong, say, with Shiva?

Everything. (Laughs) See, I still think the decision was not wrong. Any film is an idea. I decided to take Shiva forward, set it in a police setup, etc. I think I was wrong as I got confused about adapting it into the new setup. Also, I think at that time I had surrounded myself with people who kept telling me whatever I did was right. I'm not blaming them, obviously.

I wanted to make a film to correct the mistakes of James. I ended up making a film worse than James.

I think I just had a really bad year.

You're one of the directors on the remake bandwagon. How do you see this trend? What if someone decides to remake, say, Rangeela?

Emotions are constant in every story. There's no question of remaking Rangeela because it's a story everyone makes. A guy falls in love with a girl, she doesn't return his feelings until the end of the movie where she decides she loves him too. And you haven't seen that movie before? Or since then?

And if anyone wanted to remake it with the same characters and the same backdrop, all the best. Make Rangeela, man. It might be better than mine.

We're falling back on the there-are-only-seven-stories fundas. But aren't there different contexts and characters, enough to make a film original?

What is original? I don't know. I don't think I've ever done anything original in my life. Every line, every scene, every shot in my films has been taken from another film, a book, a play, real life, a TV show... The important thing is that you understand what you are copying. If you understand what's behind the shot, you'll never do it the exact same way. The trick is being able to put it in context of a film.

We are born with blank minds. And then comes information, information, information... We are what we learn. I'm not original, you are not original.

And speaking about originality, lets get to the topic that everyone originally started reading this interview to get to -- Sholay.

It's a great story. It's about an encounter cop, with his family killed by a gangster. He wants revenge but he can't get it from the police force, and so he gets two small time criminals to take care of his vendetta. It's set in Mumbai, now.

And is it treated in the same genre as the old film?

I've been very true to the spirit of Sholay. It is an adaptation but I have always found the story very dark and so this is a very, very dark film. And it's all about striking the balance. I just want people to walk in thinking about the old classic and then hopefully my film will make them see it afresh.

Another Amitabh adaptation that didn't do too well was Don. What did you think of that one?

I liked the idea of parts of that film, on paper. I liked the idea of SRK in that genre, playing an action hero/villain instead of continuing with the candyfloss romances. I didn't like the film.

After Shiva, how badly do reviews affect you?

You must never take it personally. I feel the whole world is running on bitchiness. And that includes you and me. If I want to read a review today, I won't go and click on the review that says 'great film,' I'll find the reviewer who's hated the film. And I'll enjoy reading that no-star review because the reviewer is sarcastic and mean and kills the film.

I understand that logic, and so why should that rule not apply to my films? I read the reviews, but never take them personally.

Even with something as scathing as Shiva? And aren't you worried about Sholay?

I think the best thing that could happen to Sholay was Shiva being such a bomb.

I think the critics just exhausted every negative they could use for that movie, and they have nothing left. I think for Sholay they will just hire the underworld to kill me, instead of wasting words.

On Friday the film will release, on Sunday the papers will say 'Ram Gopal Varma found dead.' (Laughs)

Mrinal Sen

Mrinal Sen, one of India's greatest directors, will be honoured with the Dadasaheb Phalke Award in New Delhi on February 2. In this excerpt from a conversation with Samik Bandopadhyay, Mrinalda discusses three familiar actors he has worked with.

Smita (Patil) knew she wanted to do the role. And Shabana (Azmi) knew she wanted to, too. They knew that I was working on this film. They were then acting in Mandi. Shabana was the landlady. Smita was the prostitute. And Sreela (Majumdar)was in it too. Both of them called me up and said that they wanted to act in my new film. And Sreela too, following their example, pitched in with her request. I told her to calm down. 'You are practically family. Stop worrying.' I sat down and wrote to both Shabana and Smita. 'You are definitely acting in my next film. But unlike Shyam (Benegal), I cannot move about with a harem, like a Mughal Emperor. He can take plenty of women at a time, but I can't take more than one woman at a time. I start with you. After you, I'll take on another actress. You are a great actress. So is the other one.'

I wrote 'Dear Shabana' on one and 'Dear Smita' on the other. I deliberately interchanged the envelopes and sent them off. I got to hear of the end result much later, from Shyam (Benegal). They were at the dinner table. It was during the filming of Aarohan (produced by West Bengal Film Development Corporation). (They had exposed 10,000 feet in order to shoot some lightning. I was told by the best laboratory of West Europe that they had never seen lightning shot this way before. I had borrowed some of that for Genesis.) Shabana came to dinner, wearing a long face. And told Smita, 'This is a letter for you.' And Smita too, pulling out a letter from her wallet, said, 'Here, this one's yours.' (Laughs.) They confessed that they'd had a big laugh about it.

Shabana could really put one on the spot. One couldn't say no. One never had a chance to do so. I was visiting Shabana once at her father's place in Juhu. As I got up to leave, she gave me a rose. We exchanged kisses and left. This was before Khandahar (1983). The moment I stepped out, I met Smita who had come to collect her parents. They were on the way to Prithvi Theatre to watch a play. There I was, outside Shabana's house, clutching a rose to my breast. Like a Mughal Emperor on his way to war! 'Mrinalda, I've caught you at it!' she exclaimed and hugged me. I didn't know what to say. 'I'm sorry. Do forgive me.' 'No. I've caught you this time. There is only one way you can atone for your sins. You must watch my film Umbartha tomorrow.' 'But my plane leaves at noon tomorrow.'

She was not to be swayed and fixed it up so that I could watch it at the laboratory itself. Somewhere near the Film City. It took an age to get hold of a print and by the time we began watching it, it was almost ten thirty. The film was a long one, and Smita's parents were there too. I sent off a young man who was with me, to the airport, to check in. The moment the film ended, I ran to the car. 'I cannot speak with you now. I must be off or else I'll miss my flight. Well done.' I patted her on the back and was off. 'Next time I come I'll have puran polis with you,' I told her parents, her mother in particular.

She used to make them for me especially and send them over. Smita's mother used to tell me about how she had spent a lot of time traveling with her husband, on political work for the Congress. She said to me, 'I would like to be with your team when you work. I can cook. I have heard so much from Smita. All of you become like one big family. I would like to be a part of it.' I promised Smita that I would call her when I reached home. But she called me first. 'How did you like it?' 'I thought you did very well, although I have my reservations about the film as a whole,' I said. 'I forgive you then, since you did make time to watch the film,' she replied.

After that, when I completed Khandahar, I received a long fax from Cannes. My faxes would come to the Grand Hotel, in those days. They had written that although they had seen Khandahar, they could not accept two films from the same country. They had heard of Ray's Ghare Bairey. And wee convinced that this was his last film because he had fallen sick while filming. They had started this festival with Pather Panchali. Let the Cannes festival end with Ghare Bairey, they requested. No one had seen his film yet. And everyone was worried if my film won an award and his didn't, then that itself would perhaps kill him off. They said they would extend every support to me and my film but that I must concede to this one request. They screened it, but out of the competitive section. I had nothing to say.

The people at Venice were enraged. 'Why didn't you give it to us?' Anyway, then it went to Montreal. Where it got the Second Prize. And to Chicago where it got the Best Film Award. Then, it was also included in the Film Guide -- where the five best films from all over the world are chosen every year.

Gilles Jacob, director of the Cannes Festival, was present at the Montreal Festival. It is a French-speaking region and Smita was part of the jury too. Gilles called me up one morning: 'Mrinal, though I am leaving this morning, and a friend of mine from India is also leaving, can we meet over breakfast? We perhaps have no time for lunch.' I agreed. I also knew that the friend she wanted to bring for lunch would be none other than Smita. She congratulated me warmly, and said, 'Mrinalda, I simply have to tell you this. I have never seen Shabana look so beautiful before.' It was such a compliment and such an honest confession. Although there were undercurrents of tension between those two leading ladies. Just before that, referring to Smita, Shabana had told me, 'Mrinalda, this woman is sick in the head.' That was the difference between the two. Geeta was very fond of Smita.

Gilles Jacob said, 'You've taken her for one film which won an award at Berlin. I want you to make another film with her, which you must give to me. To my festival.' I agreed. Smita quickly picked up a paper napkin and wrote down this decision. And I signed it, putting down the place and the date. Gilles signed it too and so did Smita. And I remember absolutely clearly, how lovingly and gently she folded it and put it away in her handbag. Three months later she was dead. I was getting hourly updates on her condition. The moment I heard about her death, I sent off a fax to Jacob. And he called me back immediately. 'Whom can I call up, to pay my condolences?' I gave him Smita's husband's number. It was very sad.

It was so unexpected, so unnecessary

Yes, absolutely. One of the city's most famous doctors had confided to me -- a gynaecologist -- 'One of us is responsible for her death. I visit Bombay frequently and have heard about it. She died because of gross negligence.'

* * *

One morning I visited Khwaja Ahmed Abbas (1914 to 1987, journalist, columnist, scriptwriter and filmmaker), who lived next door. 'Abbas-saheb,' I said. 'I'm making a film.' 'Yes, I've heard.' 'And everyone in it is new. If I go to the Films Division, I know I will get plenty of people. Pratap Shama and the like, whose voices I can use. But I don't want to. We are all such old friends. I want a new voice. Since everyone else is new, I would like this person to be an unknown figure too.'

There was a young man there, amongst many others. Tall. Thin. 'Mrinalda, aami Bangla jaani. Aami kolkatay chhilo,' he said. (Mrinalda, I can speak Bengali. I used to live in Calcutta.) I told him, 'Your Bengali is lousy but your voice is great. And for your information, my film is a Hindi one. The name is Bengali and the protagonist is also Bengali, but it's a Hindi film. I need your voice for a few words a little after the movie begins and then a little bit again, towards the end. Are you willing?' I had to trade with his director.

This young man was working in a movie called Saat Hindustani, at that point. His director, Abbas, said the chap was being loaned to me on condition -- that I would get him Utpal in return. I agreed. I took the young man to Jagdish Banerjee's house -- he had done some work for the Films Division -- who agreed to do the recording. We had a budget of only one and a half lakhs and so had to skimp at every turn. Oh, what a trial that was. The sound of fish being fried next door and then the smell of that same fish wafting past us. It was impossible. I said, 'What the hell! Let's spend some money anyway.' So off we went to Blaze, where we finished the recording in twenty minutes. There was a Hindi translation of Sonaar Bangla. The young man asked me, 'Mrinalda, shall I say "sonaar Bangla"?' I agreed.

When I went to pay him, he refused. 'This is my very first work in films. I simply cannot accept money for it.' I reasoned with him. 'Look, all of us are accepting payment. You cannot insult us like this. Take it professionally. Is this your profession?' 'Yes,' he replied. 'Well then, make a start with this.' So those three hundred rupees were his first earning in the world of films. When I asked him for his name, for the credit line, he simply said, 'Amitabh.' At that point he was still undecided about whether he would keep the Bachchan part of it.

Amitabh Bachchan had spoken the commentary for Bhuvan Shome.

When Mani ratnam blackmailed A. R. Rahman

On dedicating the song Tere Bina to Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan

When I began working on the soundtrack of Guru, I happened to listen to one of Nusrat saab's softest songs called Sajna Tera Bina. It is simple and heart stirring. There is great beauty in it. I was inspired by it and started composing Tere Bina about eight months ago.

Originally, the song was about 25 minutes long. You know I often write six or seven mukhdas and then there are many variations. I also recorded the song Ay Hairathe for the film but Mani sir felt it was too heavy to be at the start of the film. He thought of using Tere Bina.

Suddenly, the song got a life of its own. But there was one hurdle (chuckles). I had recorded it in the voice of Qadir Khan and he did an excellent job. But Mani sir wanted me to sing it. I said, Qadir will get hurt, and I did not want to hurt him. But there was no way of getting out. It became something like: Either you sing it or it won't be there.

So it was a blackmail?

But in a good way (chuckles). I also told Mani sir that I was fasting then and didn't have the energy to sing it. He said he would wait. (The song as it is has some of Murtaza Khan and Qadir's voices in the Dham Dara Dham Dara part at the beginning. Chinmayee joins Rahman later in the song.)

Got it!!

On Friday, November 10, 2006 ....I got my car license. That too I gave my roadtest on my stickshift car. Didn't expect a chance, but got it!!

Mindblowing recital!

Today is a special day, as I met Anoushka Shankar at Stony Brook University. A day to remember!

Ramu speaks it all!!

As a producer, you’ve said earlier that you want to release a film every Friday. In the spirit of being prolific, could you have begun to take your audiences for granted?
Coming out with a new film every week was a hope, a wish. To achieve that, you need to put adequate systems in place. In the recent past, I’ve been directing, as well as producing. I’ve decided to take a backseat and set everything in order first. So far as the audience is concerned, their loss is about a couple of hours or Rs 100; for me, at a personal level, the loss is much more.

If news reports are to be believed, you seem to have taken a financial hit.
Not true. I just moved out of my old office, which may have fuelled the supposed rumours. But that’s only because the tie-up (with K Sera Sera) was over, and they owned the premises.

On your film-front, we could run a daily bulletin on the latest on Ram Gopal Varma Ke Sholay; this when you haven’t even shot a reel.
The media is so hungry, and it’s got people all over the place. By the time I even think about something, it appears in the news… And then it’s about who’s Samba, who’s Basanti, copyright issues over Sholay, criticisms on casting decisions, constantly changing names… I may or may not choose to explain at times.

As a film, Sholay was considered a take on the Wild West, what came to be called the ‘curry western’. You take the western out of the curry; what’s left?
The coinage ‘curry western’ came up at the time because Sholay was believed to be an adaptation of Wild West films, like the Magnificent Seven, hence Seven Samurai: the scenic terrain, dacoits, horses… For me Sholay was a revenge story, which is pretty much possible in a city like Mumbai. There is nothing uniquely Western about it as a genre. The question is about its treatment as a remake in a new setting. This is different from Shiva, where taking the same premise (of Shiva; 1990), my object was to intentionally recreate the unintellectual formula film of the ‘70s: hero, villain, song, comedy scenes, fights… In the days of ramping and high-speed shots, I wanted to take a break from gun-shots and get back to raw fist-fighting; in reality, nobody fist-fights. But to see if one can transport those same feelings again was my purpose.

Once Amitabh Bachchan told me about how at the time Zanjeer came out, there was a lot of repression and anger in the country. My point was that’s not why Zanjeer worked. I came from a happy family; I had no clue about what the country was going through at the time; I saw Zanjeer seven times. I liked the way he kicked the chair when Pran was about to sit, or the nightmare he kept having of the horse.
This kind of cinema works on moments. I learnt the ropes, the understanding of characters through films of that genre, more than thinking them up myself. Since nobody seemed to be making movies of that genre, I thought may be I should do it for effect.

The blockbuster primarily survives in public memory and pop culture due to the caricatured characters, right down to Soorma Bhopali; Angrezon ke zamaane ka jailor… Those aspects can never be recaptured. Could you be caricaturing what’s been repeatedly caricatured in any case?
Having a direct comparison with an original, you take a greater risk with respect to audience or critical acclaim. I don’t think anybody reacts to the content of Sanjay Bhansali’s version of Devdas; they just see the splendour of it—the same story with new actors and settings and thereby a new experience. As a filmmaker, I believe I understand and respect Sholay more than anybody else I know.
When I take a favourite moment of mine from a film, lending my own sensibility to redo it today; it just becomes an interesting interpretation from an artistic point of view. To take up this exercise for an entire film, I thought there could be no better example than Sholay, which is like a friend of the audience; it’s the huge commercial success that makes anyone look up to it.
In the original, there is no police, it’s a village. Walking on a cliff, Gabbar says, ‘Kitne Aadmi The… Suwar ke bachhon’, but he is a rural dacoit. A man in a city would look odd speaking like that. But to not lose out on what those two lines stood for, yet to not use them; to do it in a way that it would be acceptable, yet not change it… It gives me a high as a filmmaker to capture the same content in the manner I understood it.

‘Kitne Aadmi The’ isn’t exactly a most profound line though.
One-liners of Sholay have less to do with the content than how they work as commercial tag-lines, which is pretty much what one-liners are about. ‘Mere Paas Maa Hai’ from Deewar: I still can’t understand what the line means. It belongs to Shashi Kapoor and it made Mr Bachchan a star.
The holding power (of a film) could be of an image, a moment, a line by Gabbar, who was a villain, but over the years became the hero. I studied the traits of Gabbar in the original and applied them on a gangster who exists in Mumbai and takes great pride in not operating from outside the city. The essential nature of Gabbar in Sholay is that of a megalomaniac, bored with his power, which you can tell from him constantly staring at an ant crawling (on his hand). He is always seen lazing around, because he never feels challenged, no one’s there to challenge him.

Talking of your films, every director portrays a distinct idea of how they view their women on screen. Yash Chopra has his chiffon-saree temptress; Mani Ratnam has his believable, naturally beautiful woman; your women, never mind the actors, seem straight out of a cartoon strip/ graphic novel, accentuated breasts and buttocks, a very Blondie-like demeanour.
Forget me as a filmmaker, on a personal level; I like men to be heroes and women to be sexy. Sexiness is also oriented around perspectives. What I find sexy, you may not. Eventually, since I am the filmmaker, the film would be my personal expression of how I want to see someone. The way you’re putting the question, it seems you mean my attitude is demeaning toward women.

I’m merely interested to know your world-view on women.
What you’re talking about might be obvious to the eye, but if you look at it from a larger perspective, the way I shy away from getting into problems of simple people or families, reveals how I am by nature. I am a loner. I live in an overawed, child-like dream world. And I love to see a woman as sexy. Many heroines feel that I shoot women the best, so I have no complaints.

You’re completely an alpha-male director. I want to know how you perceive women.
I’d love women to be still images.

That sounds sexist.
I think I am… And I think women should feel great about their sexiness.

So, in your world, men should go out and work, and women should dance.
Yes. When they come back from work, they should dance for their husbands.

Given that you call yourself a “lone person”, do you see the portrayal of this insularity, especially in big cities, a common theme running through your works—Satya, Kaun, Bhoot…
I think it’s got more to do with my interest in the study of the human mind. What comes across from a character or person when he’s alone, I feel, is his true self. Most times when you’re with people, you’re interacting and doing things for them. I’m not a social guy. I never go to functions. I hate birthday parties. I hate being with children.

You hate children.
I hate being with children.

So you hate children.
I started thinking about why I dislike children and realised that’s because they take the attention away from me. Sitting with three people, I want all their attention. But if the kid is there, I can’t compete—the kid won’t listen to me. So the people listening get distracted and seem more interested in the kid.

Movie-stars take attention away from you as well. Is that why you dislike them?
That’s not true at all. No one believes in stardom as much I do. For me, a ‘non-star’ can be a star, and vice versa. I feel half the stars have no business to be there. And a lot of others who deserve to be stars are not. I just don’t go by the box-office status of the previous week, or someone’s previous film. I go by what attracts me.

Stardom, however amorphous an idea, is directly related to the box-office though.
I love films too much to have a motive to make money from it. I need money to make films; I don’t make films to make money. Eventually everything boils to the director’s reason for making a film. If I have Ajay Devgan for Malik’s role in Company, from the first shot, the audience will take him seriously; they will take it for granted that it’s an important character. If I make Satya with newcomers, it’s because I want to capture the giddiness of the underworld. So I need to see to it that the protagonists look believable in the kind of location I’m shooting. I use them as devices to get to that point. I’m not trying to promote a Manoj or a Chekravarthy, on some kind of a trip. Similarly, a movie like Sarkar is not possible without Amitabh Bachchan. If the close-up comes, it must arrest the audience. It has to have certain information, a larger-than-life quality pre-built into the character. It’s not that I’m always right either.

What about Shah Rukh Khan?
The whole nation knows that Shah Rukh Khan is a super-star. By nature, I make dark, larger-than-life heroic films, which is pretty much against the image that Shah Rukh has with his audience. Kids and my own family members love him. I don’t ever watch those kinds of films. I thought it would be injustice to the image of Shah Rukh Khan and everyone else, if my heart was not in the film (that we were meant to do together). I had doubts over whether I could capture him in a certain way. That’s not to say that Shah Rukh can’t act in the films I make, but why take Shah Rukh Khan if you don’t use him for what he’s good at.

The film, Time Machine, was supposed to be a sci-fi.
It’s a highly entertaining sort of a film; not really my cup of tea. Whenever I’d look at the subject, I’d feel like I was going to school. And I hate school. I was a bad student. I felt stifled thinking about the film and I thought it wasn’t fair for anyone concerned.

Another thing you hate is writing, or what they call in ‘new Bollywood’, the ‘bound script’. With changing times, does that become a handicap, especially when you have to enlist leading names?
I don’t know of any actor who works on bound scripts; they work on trust. I also go by instinct. For instance, for Nishabd and Sarkar I had a bound script, for Company and Satya I didn’t. Rangeela, I had about half a story. I’m not priding the fact that Satya didn’t have a bound script, but because it didn’t have a script, it worked out a certain way. You need to have an understanding of characters. I’d rather go into a story with that, and see how it shapes up. Stories are about incidences, and incidences occur because of characters’ reactions.
I only get into the character after about two days of shooting. Unless I see the person perform, and see his body language, I probably may not understand before-hand what I’m dealing with. I do have a script. I just don’t have it on paper; I can narrate it. Eventually, my prerogative is to change what I want depending on what I think is right for a film. My films may have gone wrong in terms of creative content, but there has rarely been a case where an actor has been criticised. Over a period of time, actors develop that trust.

This sort of instinctual style of filmmaking may rattle off people who deal with the commercial side of films though.
About 90 per cent of the films that the intelligentsia or critics will like may probably collect the least amount of money in the business. In spite of my temperament and attitude towards filmmaking, I’ve probably lasted the longest. Mathematically, a flop and hit depends upon the cost of making a film, and the amount that gets recovered: that’s the business side. Otherwise, filmmaking is about an idea.

That’s something you initially set out to do, turn Hindi movies rightfully into a director’s medium.
In today’s times with serious technological advancement, Avid machines, DI, special effects… I sometimes really don’t know what a director does. It’s coming to that gradually. You see a fantastic opening title sequence that creates an impression on you, you credit the director, but he may have nothing to do with it. So I don’t entirely buy the ‘auteur theory’. Fair enough, it’s the director taking decisions; to that extent he may be in a position of power. But the creation of the emotional impact of a particular sequence might not have anything to do with the director, which is why I find the whole point of directing or acting institutes outdated.

Over the past many years, you’ve been taking pot-shots at your peers through your films: Vidhu Vinod Chopra / Shekhar Kapur (Rangeela), Karan Johar (Company), Subhash Ghai (Main Madhuri…), Farah Khan (Naach)… Have the concerned people taken those jokes well?
I take pot-shots at myself; I did that in Darna Zaroori Hai. All jokes on newspaper cartoons are on famous people; how else would jokes work?
In fact, both Vinod Chopra and Shekhar Kapur had an argument over who the character in Rangeela was modeled on. The ones about Farah Khan and Subhash Ghai you refer to, I don’t remember them being intended at all. If I show a choreographer in Bollywood, you could automatically think it’s Farah Khan. All B-grade films emulate A-grade filmmakers. In Company, referring to a film with the tag-line, “It’s all about loving your lovings” or whatever, my point was to capture a reality. I wasn’t taking a pot-shot.

Everybody may not buy your sense of humour. Your joke on Johar’s Kabhi Alvida Naa Kehna wasn’t taken well by him at the least.
Well, I’ve learnt. I swore on my mother and sister in Siddhivinyak, and pledged, may I burn in hell, if I ever say anything about Karan Johar. Now ask me if I believe in God. Ask, ask…

Do you believe in God?
No comments.

As a director:
Sarkar (2005): With the two Bachchans steering it, the film had slim chances of failing.
Bhoot (2003): Urmila played a convincing possessed woman.
Company (2002): Slick underworld action, intense performances by Ajay Devgan and Vivek Oberoi; well-received.
Jungle (2000): Urmila, Fardeen Khan and the creamy Kashmira in a forest of terror. Average.
Mast (1999): Aftab Shivdasani’s big break, with Urmila again, not really top-of-the line, but average performance.
Satya (1998): A de-glammed Urmila and a stellar performance by Chakrevarthy, Manoj Bajpai, Paresh Rawal and Co, catapulted it to heights.
Rangeela (1995): With Urmila cavorting on the beach in a shredded slip, and Aamir at his tapori best, it rocked the BO.
Shiva (1990): Starring Nagarjuna and Amala, Varma’s first feature film was a huge hit.

As a producer/co-producer:
Shiva (2006) and D (2005): Two films for Mohit Ahlawat that did not quite do for him what they were supposed to.
Naach (2004): All the world’s weirdest body contortions by Antara Mali could not change the fortunes of the film
Vaastu Shastra (2004): Successful in scaring the audience away from the theatres.
Ab Tak Chhappan (2004): Nana Patekar doing what he does best. The gritty film did reasonably.
Ek Hasina Thi (2004): Talked about for Saif’s superlative performance in a negative role.
Main Madhuri Dixit Banna Chahti Hoon!: Sincere performance by Rajpal Yadav and Antara Mali kept the film in the reckoning.
Shool (1999): Directed by E Niwas, Manoj Bajpai and Raveena Tandon put in credible performances.
Dil Se.. (1998): With Mani Ratnam as director, the film’s superhit music and unusual lead pair: Shah Rukh and Monisha Koirala, made it one of the most talked about films that year.

Woe-man!
Whenever Ram Gopal Varma airs his views on women, you want to tell him what to do with those views.
He has said it all. From “I hate intelligent women. If I want intelligence, I’ll read a book” to “I have always looked at women as sex symbols”; from “ I like to see women getting drenched in the rain” to “My cinema is all about heroes, for me, men should be powerful, women should be sexy”. He has gone on record to say that he doesn’t like simple women. “My perception about a woman has changed over the years—she has to be sensual and have the oomph factor,” he has said.
No doubt sometimes he may have been misquoted, sometimes quoted out of context. But the essence that emerges, of his ideal woman, remains consistent: he likes his woman to ooze oomph, pout and make soft, teasing noises. And, yes, if they must talk, they should let their cleavage do the bulk of the talking.
No wonder his metier lies in turning relatively simple young girls into oomph queens. From Urmila Matondkar to Jiah Khan, his heroines have been meticulously tutored in the art of pouting and panting. In fact, over the years, and ever since he made Rangeela in ‘95, all of Ramu’s heroines seem to have set up the chorus, ‘Main bhi Urmila Matondkar banna chahti hoon’. Urmila held the fort for several years, tossing her mane and thrashing her body, in turns, to heat-inducing music, exactly as Ramu wanted. Later, she passed on the baton to Antara Mali and company.
On the face of it, Ramu’s heroines have been modern, urban. They’ve been professionals rather than housewives, they’ve expressed their sexuality rather than hiding it behind filmi coyness. But that’s on the face of it. The ultra cool exterior hasn’t too often been backed by ultra cool thought. Finally his women have crawled (sometimes literally) back to conventionality.

Now this is very very Unfortunate!!!

Steve Irwin, the popular television presenter better known as the 'Crocodile Hunter', has passed away following a marine accident.

The 44-year old was filming an underwater documentary on Monday morning, and police sources in Cairns, north Australia, say he was killed by a stingray barb.

Only the second known Australian fatality from a stingray attack, Irwin seemed to have been stung either through his heart or the left side of his chest, following which he immediately suffered a cardiac arrest. He is survived by wife Terri and their two children, Bindi Sue, 8, and Robert, 3.

An exuberant and fearless showman, he popularised Australian phrases around the world, and will be remembered for his use of the word 'Crikey!'

Also aiding his global following were his pro-conservation, environmentalist approach and his encyclopaedic knowledge and love of crocodiles.

Source: Rediff

Only the gods can save India

Prakash Karat damns the Election Commission for 'bias'. Every Congressman is secretly convinced that he can do a better job as prime minister than poor Manmohan Singh -- if only Sonia Gandhi listens.

The BJP condemns the Speaker for his prejudiced views, and Somnath Chatterjee thunders back that he will resign if he is not respected. Meanwhile, the Lok Sabha descends into chaos as MPs from the Rashtriya Janata Dal and the Janata Dal (United) engage each other physically.

Watching all this from afar I raise my eyes to the heavens, praying that our current crop of leaders lives long. Ask me why, and I can only invite you to consider the alternative...

Several of the top guns in politics arose from student unions. The list of luminaries includes Arun Jaitley of the BJP, Lalu Prasad Yadav and Sharad Yadav, and Marxists such as Prakash Karat and Sitaram Yechury. It is a fair assumption that some of tomorrow's leaders shall arise from the student unions of today. Can you, honestly, contemplate this future without shuddering?

Professor Nishi Pandey of Lucknow University complained of being harassed by student leader Ram Singh Rana last year after she tried to stop him from entering the women's hostel. This year, the Samajwadi Party has made Rana its candidate for president of the Lucknow University Students Union.

In Delhi, Jamia Milia Islamia University shut down in July after students went on a rampage against the vice-chancellor and the proctor. They were supported by the National Students' Union of India president Nadeem Javed, who promised to take up their case with Union HRD Minister Arjun Singh. (The fact that the vice-chancellor in question is the renowned historian Mushirul Hasan did not get him any support from his leftist friends.)

But all this pales into insignificance beside the tragedy in Ujjain, where Professor Harcharan Singh Sabharwal died of injuries after he was assaulted, allegedly by activists associated with the Akhil Bharatiya Vidyarthi Parishad. This has been denied both by the ABVP and by the BJP; the spokespersons of both pointed out that the television footage does not show any ABVP member hitting Professor Sabharwal.

You know what? I don't care, the footage that I did see was damning enough!

I saw Vimal Tomar, organising secretary of the ABVP in Madhya Pradesh jabbing away at Professor M L Nath of Madhav College in Ujjain. I saw him mouth offensive words at the assembled faculty, abuse that the television channels prudently bleeped out. I heard him say something to the effect, "You have called us goondas, now we shall teach you a lesson!" We also had the 'privilege' of watching Shashiranjan Akela, president of the Madhya Pradesh unit of the ABVP, argue vehemently with his teachers.

Even if you can lay aside the assault on Professor Sabharwal -- and I for one find it absolutely unpardonable -- how can you explain away the fundamental lack of decency exhibited by the likes of Vimal Tomar? There may not be any evidence of ABVP members assaulting Professor Sabharwal, there is plenty of proof of their vulgarity against the other teachers. For this alone, they should be drummed out of the university, and kicked out of all political activity as well.

Lawyers will argue endlessly whether Professor Sabharwal's death was 'murder' or 'manslaughter'. Investigators certainly have their work cut out to see whether there was any NSUI involvement given that the Congress-backed body was just as unhappy with Professor Sabharwal as the ABVP itself. But if there is a moral dimension to politics, then Vimal Tomar and Shashiranjan Akela are guilty of creating an atmosphere where violence against teachers could flourish.

Let me quote from the RSS web site: 'Devotional worship of the Guru is one of the most touching and elevating features of the Hindu cultural tradition. The relationship of Guru-shishya is one unique symbol of our Hindu Dharma.'

The RSS takes this so seriously that one of its great annual events is Guru Purnima, when every member is expected to make some token offering to the Guru. I can remember seeing the likes of Atal Bihari Vajpayee and L K Advani perform Guru Dakshina even when they were in high office.

Why, given this tradition, weren't Vimal Tomar and Shashiranjan Akela drummed out of the ABVP the moment they were seen insulting their teachers at the gates of Madhav College? Does Guru Purnima hold any meaning any longer, or is it empty ritual?

The ABVP was formed when M S Golwalkar was the Sarsanghachalak. The 'M' in his name stood for 'Madhavrao', and he himself was affectionately known as 'Guruji'. What irony if the centenary year of his birth is marked by insulting Gurus in the precincts of an institution named 'Madhav' College!

Will anybody emerge with clean hands from the Ujjain tragedy? When last heard, over 20 NSUI members had been arrested in Ujjain -- on the basis of a list of offenders given to the police by the principal of Madhav College. Sanjeev Jain, of the Nationalist Congress Party's Disha Kisaan Sangathan, also surrendered to the police in the same case. With associates of the BJP, the Congress, and Sharad Pawar's NCP named, fears of political interference are bound to grow.

And these are the people from whose ranks India's future leaders may arise. Ponder over that.

I read that GMP Dwivedi, who is heading the Criminal Investigation Department team, started the probe after praying at the Mahakaleshwar temple in Ujjain. I understand exactly how he feels. When politics vitiates the atmosphere in temples of learning so much that students insult their teachers, well, only the gods can save India.

Ram Gopal Varma's "Nishabd"

Love stories and emotional relationships haven't exactly been Ram Gopal Varma's main area of interest, so when he decided to make an intense saga about an old man's obsession with a young girl in "Nishabd" it raised several eyebrows.

But Varma says that the film with Amitabh Bachchan wasn't a sudden decision. "It was an idea I was sleeping with for a long time. What fascinates me is how would it seem to place a man of Mr. Bachchan's character, demeanour, grace and image in such a position? The relationship with a young girl will look even more effective," Varma told us.

Varma doesn't deny that he has shied away from sex and love in most of his films.

"It could also have something to do with the genre of films I generally do. 'Nishabd' allowed me to go into areas I haven't visited before. But I wouldn't like to give it a pompous terminology like 'soul-searching'. I'm not equipped for that sort of an exercise.

"In 'Nishabd' I'm basically interested in capturing a conflict within a man between his feelings and his responsibilities. The girl is only a device to trigger off that conflict."

Right now, Varma is hogging the limelight for his two remakes - "Shiva" and "Sholay".

Excerpts from the Interview:

Why this sudden decision to make "Nishabd" with Amitabh Bachchan?

It wasn't a sudden decision. I had been talking to Mr. Bachchan about several projects. In fact, I had sounded him out about "Nishabd" a year back when the idea came to me. When we were both ready to work together again, we wondered which script to start with.

Unfortunately, all my plans with Mr. Bachchan went haywire because of his illness. Now I have his dates for "Sholay". But that's been delayed for various reasons. We used those dates for "Nishabd".

Why has "Sholay" been delayed?

Because it's a straight-on action film. I didn't want Mr. Bachchan to do anything strenuous after his illness.

I would never expect a film titled "Nishabd" from you.

See, it isn't a question of suddenly trying to prove I can do an intense love story. It was an idea I was sleeping with for a long time. People seem to think I'm doing an adaptation of "Lolita", which is about a middle-aged man's obsession with a 14-year-old girl.

What fascinates me is how would it seem to place a man of Mr. Bachchan's character, demeanour, grace and image in such a position? The relationship with a young girl will look even more effective. I feel emotions have nothing to do with age. What stops a man in that position of supreme success and respect from indulging in his feelings? Is it a sense of responsibility towards society and family? I wanted to look beyond those responsibilities.

I want to film a love story between a man of Mr. Bachchan's age and a very young girl, in an intense stylised way in a completely new narrative language. I want to create a language of love-expression that's never been tried before.

You've shied away from sex, even love in most of your films.

Yeah, it is possible. But that could also have something to do with the genre of films I generally do. "Nishabd" allowed me to go into areas I haven't visited before. But I wouldn't like to give it a pompous terminology like 'soul-searching'. I'm not equipped for that sort of an exercise. I just like to capture feelings.

For all my cynical talk, I feel I portray feelings and emotions in a way that's entirely mine. In "Nishabd" I'm basically interested in capturing a conflict within a man between his feelings and his responsibilities. The girl is only a device to trigger off that conflict.

You've chosen a new girl?

Her name is Jiya Khan. And please don't ask a stupid question like where did I find her. I didn't go on a girl hunt or something. I keep collecting pictures of actors and actresses who come to meet me. And then a particular face comes back to me when I'm scripting a character. Jiya is right for this part.

To my knowledge she has no experience in modelling or acting. I had met her a couple of years back. In fact, I was planning to cast her in a later production. Then "Nishabd" came along.

Is there a strong undercurrent of sexuality in "Nishabd"?

No love story can be complete without an undercurrent of sexuality. Because of the nature of the subject and its requirements, I'm excited about capturing Mr. Bachchan's expressions as never seen before.

Amit Roy, who shot "Sarkar" is the cinematographer. There are no songs this time. We completed "Nishabd" in one schedule.

You've just finished directing "Shiva" and then "Nishabd".

That's not really unusual. I never sit idle. The minute I finish a project, I immediately start something else.

You and Amitabh are doing a series of films together.

I think we're addicted to each other. And we're both in the mood to create poetry in "Nishabd".

Are you getting mellower?

No. This is my once-in-while moment of seriousness. I'll quickly go back to making "Bhoot" and "Kaun" before people start taking me seriously and start giving me awards.

My only dream was the India cap: Tendulkar

After surviving more than 16 years in media spotlight, Sachin Tendulkar is set to put into words his incomparable drive and passion for cricket. Lauded as the best batsman since Sir Donald Bradman, he reveals in his forthcoming book Tendulkar's Opus how he evolved from being an unmanageable child to India's youngest-ever Test player.

"Cricket is something very, very special to me. It has never been about owning this or that car and the other things that come with this life. My parents taught me that it is important to live everyday of your life with grace and honour," the ace batsman says in the book to be published at the end of next year.

"An obsession with money or worldly matters was always thumbed down. My only dream was to wear the Indian cap and the Indian colours. In that respect, my childhood dreams have come true."

However, Tendulkar says cricket wasn't his only love. He also played a lot of tennis and believes he was pretty good at it too.

"My big-time hero was John McEnroe. I just loved that guy. All my friends and family would support Bjorn Borg. I was the only one supporting John McEnroe - everyone used to call me 'Mac' because I styled myself on him.

"I made my father buy me the same headbands and sweatbands and even grew my hair long. You wouldn't believe the pictures of me from that time. I was also extremely naughty. Very, very difficult to handle."

"I would climb the trees around the apartment complex and polish off all the guavas and mangoes. The fruit trees were strictly off limits, but I used to time it to perfection by waiting until nobody was around, normally in the evening when everyone was inside watching television.

"I had a nanny who used to run after me virtually 24 hours a day, because I never wanted to go home," he says.

Tendulkar says he settled down when he started playing a lot of cricket in his early teens - "all my calories were being burnt on the cricket pitch and my energy was being focused.

"I have my brother Ajit to thank for that - he guided me into the game. He used to watch me play downstairs with my friends, without me realizing. He figured out that I could bat by watching my swing, the way I connected with the ball and my consistency.

"He's almost 10 years older than me and had played at a decent level himself. He told me that professional cricket could be a future for me and convinced my father to let me change schools, to help me play more," he says.

"My father, who died in 1999, was never a cricket fan, not at all. He was a writer and a poet: he taught Marathi, my mother tongue, at the local university. But he understood exactly how to get the best out of me. He always encouraged me and told my mother that he had full faith in me. It was probably reverse psychology, but as I got older I felt like I could not misuse that trust.

"He warned me against taking short cuts and told me to just keep playing, despite the ups and downs. When it came to choosing between cricket and going to university, he said: 'You can play cricket, I know that is your first love, so go for it'."

Tendulkar says his parents were extremely happy when he became the youngest player to play for India, at 16.

"At first they were a little worried. In India, cricket is almost a religion and they had some apprehensions over whether I'd be able to cope with the demands and pressure at that age. Some of the players were almost twice my age and I was living away from home for most of the year. But it all went smoothly in the end."

In excerpts of the book published in The Sunday Times magazine, Tendulkar says "I now have my own family, daughter who is eight and a son who is six, so there's that other half of the coin to look at. I need to strike the right balance between cricket and family.

"I try to follow my father's lead and give my kids the freedom that I had in my family. Having children brings back all my old childhood memories, wonderful years. Now, every minute is measured and calculated. I still dream - without dreams, life is flat, you stagnate. I don't go to the temple every morning, but I do pray. I thank God for everything He has given me, because life has been good to me," he says.

As a child, Tendulkar says he always knew he would play cricket for India. The batting maestro says he received his first cricket bat when he was seven.

"My big sister gave it to me after returning from a trip to Kashmir, which is known for its high-quality willows. It wasn't the best bat, but it was like a piece of gold to me. I used to imagine myself batting for India, hitting fours and sixes, the people cheering. I used that bat until it broke when I graduated from playing with a tennis ball to a hard, seasoned ball."

Reminiscing his childhood, Tendulkar says he grew up in an apartment in central Mumbai, a nice middle-class area, the youngest of four children - "I have two brothers and a sister. There was a private green at the front of our building where I used to spend all my spare time playing with friends.

"Virtually every morning, evening and afternoon, playing football, volleyball, hockey - and cricket, of course. Batting came naturally to me, probably because of my physique. There were bigger guys who chose to bowl, and there were smaller guys like me who had no option but to bat."

Kamal Hassan's interview

Kamal Hassan talks about making films on his own terms

Excerpts from the Itnterview:

Why have you been maintaining such a low profile?

I'm 50 now. I have suddenly realised how much time I've wasted. I should've planned my dream Maridunayagam more carefully. I need 40 more years as a filmmaker. Although it may seem so, I'm not a workaholic. I took one entire year (1990) off thinking I could afford it. I'm one of the few filmmakers in Chennai who takes every Sunday off.

You've been around for 30-odd years as a leading man. What changes do you notice in the film industry?

I'm still trying to execute those dreams that I had at 19. I agree that the Tamil industry is quite stagnant. But as long as I live to tell the story, I guess I'm going to do so.

Aren't your films very expensive?

All the films I do for external productions are within the budget. When I did Hey Ram on my own, it cost as much as Shankar's Hindustani, although it was a bi-lingual. When it comes to my films, the forthcoming film has to be better than the earlier ones.

Are your dreams getting bigger?

No. I don't believe in daydreaming. But Maridunayagam remains one of my dreams. Now, I can get most of the finance in India, but only if my next few films do well. Luckily, portions where I'm supposed to look younger have all been shot so that my growing older in person would become a part of the narrative.

Is it becoming difficult for you to make films on your own terms?

It's always difficult, whether on my own or on others' terms. But I've no complaints. I'm a pampered technocrat. Filmmaking is not an isolated endeavour; it's like fighting a war. You can lose any time. Your soldiers might fail you. Your courage might fail you.

Singing is an abiding passion for you, isn't it?

I've sung about 50 songs for my films and majority of them are in Tamil. My father wanted me to become a singer, a classical vocalist. I learnt classical singing but not to the level he wanted. Due to my other pursuits, I couldn't take up singing seriously. Now, my daughter Shruti is learning Hindustani classical music.

What do you feel about another Kamal Hassan coming up in the industry?

They're already there, though they aren't my direct offsprings. My replacement is probably smiling at me and calling me passe. I only hope I can groom him without jealousy (laughs). I remember commenting on my seniors's performances. We'd look at MGR and Sivaji Ganesan films and wonder why they did some of the films that they did. Of course, we became eager chelas once we entered the industry.

Where are the replacements for you and Rajnikant?

Earlier, people used to say that no one could replace Sivaji Ganesan, and he would modestly say that his replacement would arrive. It took a long time for Sivaji saab to see a spark in me —he took me seriously as an actor after 17 years. I'm being realistic when I say a replacement will come. There are so many gifted new boys. And I'm eager to encourage them.

What do you enjoy the most—acting, producing, screenwriting or directing?

That depends on which of these capacities are required for, at any given time. I was a reluctant actor who was cajoled into acting. Now I enjoy it too much to give it up. There's so much applause you get. But if my visiting card read 'Kamal Hassan, Actor' I'd be slightly perturbed.

When your ex- wife Sarika had a near-fatal fall you subconsciously recorded the incident for future reference?

That's a common trait among actors. Though I can detach myself from tragedy, no one is immune to tears and fears. As an actor I've recorded a number of tragedies for reference. But this was one crisis where I kept the actor completely at bay. However, the child within me remained curious about the fall and wanted to know the technical details. That didn't in any way, diminish my affection for my wife. But the truth is, I was seeing a bizarre screenplay in my mind. I went from shock to gloom within no time.

So you realised that audiences' tastes couldn't be trusted?

No, the same audience that accepted me in this film also wanted to know when I would do more films like Moondaram Pirai, Thevar Magan and Appu Raja.

What about your Hindi films after Ek Duuje Ke Liye?

Some were obvious failures. But they didn't affect me. I did them out of friendship. My failure in Hindi cinema was more conspicuous because those Hindi films took longer to finish. If they were completed on schedule I would have done 50 films during the same time. I chose to stay away from Hindi films because I've a short life and there's lots of work to be done. Some of my best friends took forever to make their films. Ramesh Sippy took two years to make
Saagar.

You have a formidable acting reputation to back up your films in Mumbai.

I'm just a musafir (traveller) in Mumbai. I drop in once in a while and shake up the statusquo as I come and go. I'm not present in the market to generate faith in my standing. So when I do come with a film they say, "Ah phir aa gaya?!" But in Tamil Nadu it's another story. Alabandhan is being looked upon as a huge event.

Is there a Dravidian prejudice in Mumbai, because Madhavan too is facing the same kind of stumbling block.

But Madhavan is facing a stumbling block in Chennai as well. If in Mumbai he's seen as a Madrasi boy, then in Chennai he's the Bombay guy. It's unfortunate to enounter so many parochial attitudes. To a large extent, Tamil cinema is free of those biases.

Many of your fans feel that Mani Ratnam's Nayakan is your best film till date.

It's an important film. But even Mani Ratnam would say his best is still to come. Now when we're thinking of working together again we're scared whether we'd get an equally powerful script.

Was Nayakan designed as a desi Godfather?

Yes, both Mani Ratnam and I are great fans of Mario Puzo and Francis Coppola. All the same, we wanted to get away from the Hollywood stereotype and remake Nayakan into our environmnt.

Were you offered the Hindi remake of Nayakan?

No. Feroz Khan wanted to do it. That's why he bought the rights. As for my opinion of the Hindi version, Mani Ratnam and I share the same opinion—they missed the point.

What do you think about the frenzied fusion of cinema and politics in Tamil Nadu?

It started with the DMK who wanted a propaganda tool. When C N Annadurai started the DMK party, it was not a contesting party. Annadurai was also a screenwriter. When he died, Karunanidhi was unanimously chosen as his undisputed successor. After 1967, Tamil Nadu hasn't seen a single non-cinema Chief Minister. Even NT Rama Rao in Andhra Pradesh saw the close link between cinema and politics through MGR. NTR played almost every role in Telugu cinema that MGR played in Tamil and also had a religious aura to his personality.

Why have you and your guru Sivaji Ganesan shied away from politics?

I have. He hasn't. He won several elections and even started his own party. He lost his focus on cinema for a while. How could I advise him against it? How can you tell the headmaster to run the school? We disciples humbly murmured our disapproval.

What do you think about Rajnikant as an actor?

When we were still in our 20s I had asked him why he was so stylised on screen. He said that's the secret of his future success. I assured him that my style would also be a winner. He turned around to say, 'Fair enough. You do your thing and I'll do my own.' Rajni is a phenomenon too. Both of us were young actors who started from scratch. We didn't have fathers to make movies for us. But we had the same godfather K Balachander. It's quite strange, but our paths as actors were always intertwined. We made our way up together.

Are you keen on doing a film with Rajnikant?

It depends. He said if we do a film together he wouldn't direct it. It has to be either me or someone else. It would be interesting to do a film with him. At the Thenali silver jubilee function Rajni recalled an incident when he was riding pillion on my bike. When the bike skidded Rajni asked if I knew how to ride a bike! I assured him that even if I fell, I wouldn't let him fall. I was so touched when Rajni said at the function, 'That's what happened in our careers. He never let me fall. In 1983, when I wanted to leave everything behind it was Kamal who cajoled me back to the material world.' I guess we'll do a film together. We're worried about the expectations.

You're accused of becoming increasingly self-indulgent in your films.

I was self-indulgent earlier. I am an actor who can do Bharat Natyam and Kuchipudi, skid on a motorbike and select films from different languages for a remake. Is that being self-indulgent? I don't think so.

Anil Kapoor has done a large number of your Tamil films in Hindi.

Somewhere he must admire the way I conduct my career. Maybe he wanted to use some of my career tricks. But no re-make can be the same as the original. Even Moondram Pirai and Sadma aren't the same though they were done with the same cast and crew. Just as Shakespeare's Othello is played by so many actors why can't two actors in India interpret the same character in two languages? I was offered the chance to do the Hindi remake of my Swathi Muthyam (which Anil Kapoor eventually did as Eeshwar) by Raj Kapoor. If I had taken the offer I'd have belonged to one of the most illustrious film families in India, just as I belong to Sivaji Saab's family.

Where do you think our cinema stands globally?

It's time for our films to move ahead of V Shantaram's musical milieu. I may not succeed playing a vigilante. It's not enough for a Mani Ratnam or a Kamal Hassan to change the status quo. We need more celluloid reformists. It happened in Karnataka through a governmentsponsored scheme. Suddenly, I was very proud of a neighbouring state. I'd run to Karnataka just to be part of the cinematic revolution at a time when Tamil Nadu was making crappy commercial films. Just being in B V Karanth's house was comforting. I feel the same movement can start in any part of the country. Why should we depend on Mumbai for it? I think our cinema has never grown up since Shantaramji's days. But I'm trying.

Why this aversion to songs and music?

I've this Guru Dutt-like background. I used to be a dance composer. In four years, I must have choreographed about a hundred songs. As an actor I've done about 500 songs. To me songs make commercial sense, in the same way that whores make sense to someone in the prostitution business. As an actor, songs often seem stupid. I played a psychopath in the Tamil film Red Rose. Everyone expected me to go on stage and sing a pop number with girls. I told my director that a serial killer doesn't sing. In our films everyone from a dentist to a follower of Vinobha Bhave sings and dances. I'm fed up of bringing music into every aspect of life on screen. We don't need to mix genres. At the moment we're cooking up a strange gypsy dish made up of leftovers and disposable food.

Do you feel music is a huge impediment to our cinema' progress?

Yes. My greatest disappointment was when my hero Shyam Benegal succumbed to the song trap in Zubeidaa. See how the film industry is coercing some of our greatest filmmakers. When I first saw his work. I remember meeting him after Ankur and I asked him the name of his next film. He said, 'We don't have to name the film now since we don't have to sell our songs." I admired him for that. Now I can understand his desire to be market-friendly. We all have to change. He's still my hero.

Your fans want your talent to be recognised in the West.

They should stop dreaming of an Oscar for me. Oscar isn't the ultimate reward for an Indian actor. Hollywood doesn't allow us to participate on an equal level; we can participate only as foreigners. It cannot be a world endorsement of cinematic excellence. It doesn't even endorse American cinema fully. My dream project is to create a film festival like Cannes in Chennai where the top prize would be one million dollars. Then we'll have Hollywood participating without reservation.

Do you think our cinema is finally being noticed abroad?

We need to take our cinema forward and free it from bigotry. I'm bored with what we're doing. I've my own sensibilities as a filmmaker. I want to apply these to international standards. Hollywood comprises multi-cultural talent. Likewise, we need to wear our cultural badge and still look cosmopolitan.

There's a lot of speculation about your personal life.

A broken marriage isn't a crime. In Tamil Nadu, the press seems to respect my feelings. I'm a child of the Tamil industry. I've gone through grief. I repeat, give me my privacy. It's my fundamental right.

Your problems have made you compassionate.

I always believe there's no such thing as luck for those who deserve it. You've to work hard for it. I paid the price for wanting to be a director. I lost money but I gained critical fame. Now I wonder if the bargain was worth it. As a struggler, I dreamt of owning several cars, living in an air-conditioned home etc. I was paid Rs 15,000 per film and I was doing 10 films at the time. I wanted to cross the Rs 100,000 bracket and act in only one film at a time. Today I've many luxuries and liabilities including alimony. But my dream of making films hasn't died.