My fovorite movies: MS Dhoni

At 36, your emotions are not strong enough as they were when you were in your teens. Perhaps that is the reason I will never feel the same way about MS Dhoni as I felt about Sachin Tendulkar.

I have immense respect for Dhoni. I am one of those people who do not easily forget when someone does me a favor. MS Dhoni did that favor to me on April 2nd, 2011. He gave me one of my happiest days of my life. People say a lot of things about him, negative and positive. As is my nature, I neglect or respect their decision about negatives. But long since now, I have realized that I am better at picking out the positives of any person. Or may be I prefer to do that. I am happy with my choice.

To say that the teaser of this movie gave me goosebumps would be an understatement. But the real surprise was the trailer. It had some clips which one would consider to be controversial. It was evident that this movie will have the blessings of BCCI. This made me even more eager to watch it.

Sports movies are usually of two kinds - one which are of a single sportsperson and the other of a team. Either there is an immensely talented individual who is spotted by a coach/mentor/scout, gets an audience with the people who matter, and in the end proves himself/herself as a champion, with may be a sprinkle of love story thrown in. The other ones are of teams where a bunch of misfits brought together by a coach - his thought process is known only to him or God. The team goes through rough patches, in-fighting at first, people and at some times, coach, doubting them. They emerge through all the odds and start winning, and emerge champions.

This one was different.

That is why, it is very difficult for me to write about this movie and the man separately. They must be discussed together.

There are a lot of things in a sports-person's life that usually don't become part of their biography or movie. Most important of them is struggle. Most of the times, all the struggles are shown in one or may be two songs. The amount of struggle that Dhoni went through in his life as a cricketer may not be the greatest. But at some point in this movie, I began thinking that may be this movie is not about Dhoni the star, may be this is about Dhoni the struggler. We may never get to see the triumphs that he had, may be this movie will only show the failures that he endured. Which were overwhelmingly many. Sometimes due to sheer bad luck. And a person who can endure those failures, learn from each of them, and emerge as the phenomenon that he is now, is unbelievable.

When it comes to Dhoni, his batting is better known than his wicket-keeping. And when it comes to Dhoni's batting, first thing that comes to mind is the Helicopter. It is a shot that defines him - confidence, pinch of arrogance, innovation, and most importantly - fuck the orthodox. To give credit for something which defines you to someone else is a brave thing to do.

That is one of the best things that I liked about this movie. The tribute given to his parents. Almost all his coaches - right from his first to Gary Kirsten - are there. And most importantly, his friends. A very good friend of mine has his Whatsapp status, "My friends are my estate". For me, a man is defined by his friends. They stood by him and supported him right from his childhood to his days of struggle in the railways. It is a mark of a man who remembers his friends after his struggles are done.

There are some places where this movie becomes slow. But just as the man, whenever it struggles, it picks itself up. The climax gave me goosebumps, and tears. Like every Indian, I too have been waiting for 28 years to see my country lift the world cup of the sport which we love the most. I still remember that night - it did not, in Ravi Shastri's words, went down to the wire. But that was because of some great batting by Gautam Gambhir. But in the end, actually from somewhere near the middle, started an innings which, for me, will forever be the second greatest innings of all times in a one-day cricket match.

I always thought that MS Dhoni is a simple man. His cunning lies only inside the field. This biopic restored my faith. He truly is a simple person. Brilliance is at its best when it is simple. 

Khuda Gawaah

1993

The news of Amitabh Bachchan retiring from cinema was in the air. Every movie was like Sachin Tendulkar’s innings in 2013. A year ago I saw Hum. One of my all-time favorite movies ever. Then came Khuda Gawaah.

The movie was good, or so it seemed then. The only thing I remember was my uncle saying “Bachchanwa ne pachchaas hajaar ki shewani pehni hai us gaane mein..”. I watch the song, the sherwaani seemed worthy of pachchaas hajaar. Then I forget the movie.

The only thing I remember about that movie was Badshah Khan riding a horse in the climax. And Benazir chanting “Woh aayega..woh aayega..”.

21 years later..

I started watching Khuda Gawah on youtube. And to my surprise I watched the whole three hours and thirteen minutes of it. It was more nostalgia than anything else that kept me through those tormenting three hours. And of course, Amitabh Bachchan. But then came the climax.

In the words of Yoda, “One of the epic-est climax ever seen, I have”. The sight of Badshah Khan riding the horse brought back those years when Salman Khan - the manliest of all the Khans - was a lover boy. This is what a Khan is. This is what a Khan should be.

The songs were majestic. And I don’t know how Sridevi pulled a Benazir. Danny was, well, Danny. But Bachchan saab, this is why the world fell in love with you – angry man (young or old notwithstanding). Mallika Sherawat was right only once in her life when she said that Amitabh Bachchan running is the sexiest thing ever. Well, Amitabh Bachchan riding is the most majestic thing ever.

What a climax. Man, what a climax.

    

The end of my childhood

They say that after thirty, every birthday is a pain. You can feel that you are getting old. It’s no more fun now – celebrating birthdays. Well, I've had three birthdays since I turned thirty and I never felt the pain. They were as much fun as they were earlier. But not now. Because something happened.

Today I saw Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar walk out for the last time to bat.

I was happy at first, I felt fortunate enough to see him bat one last time. But then he played a brilliant cover drive off Shillingford for a four. And then it hit me. I will never be able to see that shot again in my life. Or the perfect straight drive, or the back-foot cover drive, or the upper cut, or the paddle sweep. This revelation came crashing down on me. Suddenly, my heart became heavier than lead.

That’s when I knew that now my childhood is officially over. This is the beauty of Sachin Tendulkar. If our lives were a facebook page, he was the timeline. Every significant moment of my life is remembered by me with respect to a Sachin moment somewhere around that. I made my first school switch when he hit his first century. 1998 was one of the worst years of my life but it was bearable because it was his best. I left my home for the first time to study just before his historic tour of Pakistan. I don’t remember the exact date when I proposed my girlfriend but I remember it was a day after he hit a century.

This is the true impact of Sachin Tendulkar. Especially on people of my age. We all have our Sachin stories. I remember the first time I saw him bat. What’s more incredible is, I also remember what I was wearing that time, what my dad was wearing. I remember that it was my English Grammar exam next day and how I pleaded with my mother to go and watch the batsman who made my dad shout like a kid.

He was a role model too (major understatement). Bowlers in my school would try to imitate McGrath and Donald. After bowling a bouncer they would come up to us and sledge, use curses, spit in front of us. We imitated Sachin. Look in the distance, practice the shot and re-adjust the crotch. All this time without noticing the bowler. Now I see young batsmen with tattoos imitating Virat Kohli.

The speech after the match was simple and yet brilliant. It was good to see that all the politicians, officials and senior players didn’t try to meddle too much and gave him his space to speak to his fans. I had almost forgotten the terrible knot in the stomach that I experienced on seeing Sachin walk back to the pavilion after getting out. All was lost when he got out; if I were alone, I would switch the TV off. It all came back today, watching him walk back to the pavilion. By the time he had finished his speech, the knot had tightened and there was also a lump in my throat.  Strangely, it felt nice to have that sinking feeling again - for one last time.

A week from now I will be thirty-three. But I know this time it will be different. The joy will be muted, because the child in me has retired. Thank you Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar. For keeping that child alive for twenty-four years.

Mesmerizing Mukteshwar & Nainital

The options were Chitkul/Kalpa and Mukteshwar/Nainital. As always, the destination was finalized at the eleventh hour. Mukteshwar/Nainital it shall be.

I went home early from office from where Sunil picked me up. Topped up the car with CNG and petrol. Then we picked up Amit from his place. At 12:30 AM, we started the journey.

Day 1

Delhi – Ghaziabad – Moradabad – Rampur – Milak – Bilaspur – Rudrapur – Kathgodam – Bhimtal – Bhowali – Ramgarh - Mukteshwar

News has just broken about Eid ka chaand being spotted, so there was a huge rush on the road with people trying to reach homes and hometowns. We got caught in numerous traffic jams on the highway till Moradabad.

From then on it was a pleasant drive. We followed NH24 till Milak (8km after Rampur) avoiding the Rampur – Bilaspur stretch which has craters the size of Sunny Leone’s ass. The 33 km drive from Milak to Bilaspur is super picturesque – sprawling lush green farms and a narrow but superb road. Just before entering Uttarakhand, it started raining, which continued till Mukteshwar. I took the wheel from Sunil just after Milak – he drives beautifully till there is CNG left in the tank. After that, it’s a little bit scarier than The Evil Dead. Once I let him drive in the hills from Manali. I don’t give second chances.

A couple of kilometers from Kathgodam, you have to turn right for Bhimtal and Mukteshwar. Monsoon was in full flow. There were the ghosts of recent floods in UK in our minds. It was raining continuously. The forecast was for 3 days of heavy rains. I was starting to get scared shitless. Then came the scenery.

We forgot everything about the monsoons, about the landslides, about the floods, about the fears in our hearts, and just soaked ourselves in the beauty. The reasons became clear. This is why I love the mountains more than the sea. Everything changes with a turn on the road. One minute you are in the middle of a super green forest and another minute you are staring at the clouds weaving through the hills and going down a valley.

We reached Mukteshwar at around noon. It’s not a 12 hour drive (Delhi to Mukteshwar is around 340km). The reasons for the delay were the initial traffic jams, the frequent breaks in the hills for gawking at the views and taking photos, and an ATM gobbled up Amit’s 4500 bucks at Bilaspur after deducting the balance of his account, due to power failure. We tried the PWD guest house here but as expected they denied giving us a room. It’s supposed to have the best view of the snow laden mountains. Then we tried the KMVN guest house. They showed us a room with no TV, reeking of moist smell and with a view of a freshly built non-plastered, non-painted wall. We declined. Then we found the Sunrise Inn. The view from the balcony was breathtaking. But that was the only good thing about that inn. Service was slower than India’s GDP rise, TV didn’t work, food was abysmal, and the owner was a brat. We had a spat with him in the night. He was ready to throw us out at midnight. All he wanted was his advance.

Chauli ki Jaali is a 300m trek from the road. It is a natural formation of rocks jutting out from the mountain with spectacular views of the valley below and ranges far away. Clouds made it impossible to view the distant ranges but we weren’t complaining. 

The sky cleared somewhat during sunset and we were blessed with some divine scenery. 

Day 2

Mukteshwar – Ramgarh – Bhowali - Nainital

After the bitter spat with the owner the night before, we left early from the hotel (read 9 AM). 33 km to Bhowali and a further 10 km from there took us to my favorite hill station – Nainital. 

There was a huge rush today. The permanent parking was huge but full. We parked a little distance away from there and went in search of a hotel. I have never stayed in Parshant hotel but the view of the lake was excellent. 

After freshening up, we went for stroll on The Mall, had delicious momos, and went towards the ropeway. It was booked full for the day so we booked next day’s ticket in advance. The hotel had parking facility so we took the car from the public parking and went back to the hotel.

We left the hotel again for boating. But halfway through the Mall it started raining, forcing us to buy umbrellas at double prices. Nevertheless, we hired the boat after the rain subsided. But then again, in the middle of the lake, it started raining again. Clouds and rain engulfing us, the umbrellas open, in the middle of the lake trying desperately for shore – surreal and scary. 

Day 3

Nainital – Kathgodam – Rudrapur – Bilaspur – Milak – Rampur – Moradabad – Ghaziabad - Delhi

Driving away from hills makes me sad and frustrated. Driving away from Nainital makes me sad, frustrated and angry. I drove the 35 km hilly area and gave the wheel to Sunil at Kathgodam. After that I was continuously bitching about his driving skills. It was his character and a mark of our friendship that he took it all in his stride (or may be he’s just thick-skinned). At Rampur, for reasons privy to Uttar Pradesh Police, we were forced to leave the highway and enter the city. After re-entering the highway, the opposite carriageway was closed till Garh Mukteshwar and all the traffic was plying on a single carriageway. This added to our frustration.

We reached Ghaziabad at 9.30 PM, dropped Amit, and then I was dropped at my place 15 minutes later. Half an hour later, I dropped dead in my bed.