Tuesday, February 28, 2012

Rise of the machines


It’s routine now, after six years. I wake up, get ready, go to office, and start working. Or not working. Every couple of months, this happens:

My computer: Your password will expire in 1 day(s). Would you like to change it now?

Me (Clicking on ‘Yes’): Oh no! Here we go again. Time to shit bricks.

My computer: New password please.

Me: sushant

My computer: Your password should be at least 8 characters long.

Me: Shit!
Me: ilovemymom

My computer: Sorry, the password you entered does not match the password security criteria. Your password should contain numbers too.

Me: What the fuck!
Me: ilovemymom22111980

My computer: Wrong again, we at Mindfuck Systems are very concerned about security. It’s you date of birth…too easy for anyone to guess. Try something different.

Me: What the hell is wrong with you? Am I working in the goddamn CIA?
Me: ilovemymom1523

My computer: That’s the exact number of people who died when Titanic sank. Very obvious. Try something else.

Me: Must suppress the urge to shit on the keyboard.
Me: ilovemymom55353545435

My computer: Sorry, the password you entered does not match the password security criteria. Your password should contain special characters also.

Me: Thaari maa ki aankh. Ye le.
Me: ilovemymom55353789789545435!@#$%^&*

My computer: Your password should not be more than 32 characters long. Take that, asshole.

Me: Thee hath awoken my wrath. Thy DIE!!!
Me: ilovem!ndfuck$y$tem$22111980

My computer: Your password has been changed successfully.

Me: Fuck yeeaaah! No bricks shall be shat today.

My computer: I’ll be back…

 

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

My favorite movies: DDLJ


1995

We were in a music store. It was the time when you gave the shopkeeper a list of songs and he taped it on an empty cassette for you. Dad was here to order for a bunch of those. The owner of the shop (a sardar) knew Dad and his taste of music well enough to assemble a bunch of “readymade” cassettes of hindi movies/oldies to ponder upon. Sardarji resembled a saree salesman when he did this, handling cassettes as a saree salesman handles a saree – a poetic flow in his actions.

There was this cassette of a movie called Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge which earned the most praise from him.

Sardarji: “Bhaiya ye le jaiye…bahut badhiya gaane hain..
Dad: “Achchha!
Sardarji: “Arre hum bata rahe hain aapko…jitney log le gaye hain, sab taareef kar rahe hain humse yahaan laut ke..” (It actually used to happen at that time)
Dad: “De do yaar…sun lenge. Lekin ye do tho cassettwa hamara kal tak banaa dena.

I don’t remember if I ever got the chance to listen to it.

There was a buzz in town (read school) when that movie was released. The few lucky ones who have watched the movie in the first weekend wore a smug smile on their faces, telling everybody who would listen (apparently everyone wanted to listen) that the movie was absolutely amazing – and that was the most toned-down version of all the reviews. My curiosity grew and I started pestering Dad to take us to this movie. As the number of people (who’ve seen this movie) grew, so did my pestering. My anxiety and jealousy grew as the seen-it people started using the abbreviated name – DDLJ – as if there was a kinship between them which I didn’t.

Eventually, Dad’s curiosity got the better of him and he decided that enough is enough. We finally went to the cinema next Saturday – eight weeks after it was released. There was still a huge crowd at the ticket counter. I don’t know how, it seemed impossible that we’ll get any tickets, but he returned after five minutes with tickets in his hand.

The movie didn’t seem to be “absolutely amazing” while I watched. In the interval Dad gave his usual on-the-spot one-line verdict, “Abhi tak to achchhi hai…”. After the interval, it was even better. Raj Malhotra had an impossible task in front of him. Convincing a hard-assed father to go back on his zubaan, betray his bachpan ka yaar, and give his daughter’s hand to a shmuck who stole beer from his shop. He did it, thanks to the last minute enlightenment of his father-in-law-to-be.

I obviously reviewed the movie in my head, as a fourteen year old would. There was comedy. There was all that friendship and romance gyaan. And there was some action in the end. A good movie.

What I was not ready for was the after-movie effects. There was another movie running inside my head with the same storyline but where I was the hero.

Insane me: “Maine to soch liya hai…agar apni bhi girlfriend ho kabhi to main bhi aisi hi nautanki karunga.
Sane me: “Kya??…matlab??….bakwaas!!…
Insane me: “Matlab…agar apne saath bhi kabhi aisa hua…
Sane me: “Kya pagla wagla gaye ho kya..?? Aisa kabhi hota hai asli life mein…

Nevertheless, I was not able to stop myself from dreaming about that movie, with the little modification I thought of earlier.

Next day, I told my friend, “DDLJ dekhi? It’s absolutely amazing!!” I had a smug smile on my face.


2012

While searching for another movie on the net, I came across a torrent for an HD print of DDLJ. My mouth watering, I started to download the movie. This time, it was eight days after the download that I watched the movie. I am thirty-one now – my thought process is now (allegedly) mature. I found some parts to be very 90s-ish but most of them were as refreshing as the first time. Also, I was able to discover the reasons behind this movie’s enormous fame.

DDLJ blatantly refused to follow the clichés. Be it Raj Malhotra – who has no regards for his sanity (Who the hell pees in a church? And then tells his bharatiya-sanskari God-fearing lady friend?), steals beer from an old man’s shop or fails his exams and gets congratulated by his pops (Dad gave me a don’t-you-dare look afterwards when we were talking about it). Or be it the seriously WTF-ing last scene where Amrish Puri, wearing his famous eyes-bulging-out-like surface-to-air-missiles-ready-to-fire expression, tells his daughter to go live her life with the tamboora-player.

But the real reason, in my opinion, was hope. It doesn’t matter how rich Raj Malhotra was, he represented all those utterly common guys who fail their exams or who steal samosa from canteen or pee on the walls of girls’ hostel. If he can get a girl, why can’t they?

For the girls (girlie girls), it was a paradigm shift that love may not and need not be at first sight. For some, and this goes on for many more SRK characters, it was refreshing to see a hero who is not perfect and omniscient, who makes mistakes, but does the right thing at the right time. In short, a normal person.

For me, I loved the way two unknown persons, start on a wrong note, become friends, realize the importance of each other in their lives, and eventually fall in love.

I finished the movie. There was a smug smile on my face.      


Wednesday, January 11, 2012

A bike trip to..???



Manali. That’s what a friend told me. “We’re planning to ride to Manali. Chalega?” I wanted to go but due to the fact that I own a dilapidated Discover 125, I declined. I love Laajwanti (or Laajo, my bike) and I have never ridden her at more than 60kph. AK Hangal can run faster than that on NH1. I just can’t do this to her.
Couple of more factors – I want to ride to Ladakh, and I need a new bike (for the same). I finalized on RE-TBTS (ok, Royal Enfield Thunderbird Twin Spark). Had a test ride, and loved it. More importantly, wife loved it. Now the only thing to do is to buy it, for that I am waiting for money to fall off the trees.
So when I was offered a friend’s TBTS for the ride, I agreed instantly. It will be the best test ride one could ever get. My brother, Peeyush (yeah, with a double ‘e’), also came to Delhi for a visit without a clue of what going to happen to his itinerary (I convinced him to join the ride). In the end, things took an unfortunate turn – we were not able to find a bike for Peeyush, and the TBTS promised to me was not delivered. I guess the guy was having second thoughts about giving his bike to someone else, I don’t blame him.
Majboori ka naam Gandhiji, literally. Jeetender Singh Gandhi, a friend of mine, offered to give me his Avenger, it was a little old but looked sturdy, so I took the offer.

D-day - 9th Dec

We were supposed to leave at 10pm. During the day, I and Peeyush went to Karolbagh for some final shopping for warm clothes and bike spare parts. He was not at all in favor of riding to Manali, kept pestering me about the dangers, the possible fog and the cold, not to mention that NH1 has a hundred diversions between Panipat and Ambala. I smiled wondering what would happen when he comes to know about it.

At 10:15pm, finally, all of us left my apartment for the journey. There were four of us:
  • NJ on his P220F
  • Shivam on his P150
  • I and Peeyush on Avenger 180
We decided Sukhdev dhaba at Murthal to be our meeting point – it would have been quite difficult to ride alongside each other in Delhi traffic – and dine there. It took us around an hour to get out of Delhi and reach the border. As soon as we crossed over into Sonipat, fog hit us. Visibility was less than ten meters, first my helmet visor fogged out within five minutes, then my glasses in the next five minutes. I was out of tears in the next ten minutes. I could hear Peeyush reciting Hamuman Chalisa behind me. It took us an hour to reach Sukhdev dhaba, fifteen kilometers away.

Peeyush, Shivam and me

We took our time there, had some rum, ate leisurely, wasting as much time as we can. We all knew that there was at least six hours to morning light – we can’t stay there for six hours, and as the fog was getting worse, it was dangerous to ride further. It was then someone proposed about an alternate destination – Shimla. We decided to finalize our location once we reach Ambala.

The first leg

The next five hours were absolute hell. NJ was riding at front because he had the best headlights, Shivam was sweeping because he had hazard lights, and we were in the middle because we had none. The fog got worse but luckily, we found a mini-truck, with lots of loud and vulgar luminescent stickers pasted on its back, cruising at around sixty, and followed it till Karnal. Then I heard a weird sound coming from the rear tire, as if it was rubbing against something. During the next butt-break, I mentioned this problem to everybody. NJ didn’t found anything wrong when he test drove for a couple of hundred meters, so he offered to ride on the Avenger. Next thing I knew, I was riding his Pulsar. Peeyush was riding pillion with Shivam and NJ on my bike. NJ got separated from us after Karnal toll plaza and rode ahead. For the next three hours, I followed Shivam’s hazard lights – come what may – at speeds ranging from fifteen to fifty kph. The diversions went from bad to worse. We avoided a fall off the road at one of those. Stopping every hour for butt-breaks, we noticed the eerie silence and darkness all around us. Every minute passed with me regretting my decision to ride in this weather.
It was pure relief when I saw a signage declaring Ambala eighteen kilometers away (due to road construction, most of the overhead signages were removed from the highway). I called for a butt-break and luckily during our stop we got a call from NJ informing us that he has reached Ambala Cantt railway station and asked us to come there. We left the desolate place with renewed enegy, reaching Ambala after thirty odd minutes. It was six in the morning. Eight hours. Fuck.

Destinations

Ambala is NJ’s hometown. He hasn’t told his parents about this trip. He would have been shouted at/cried at/emotionally blackmailed to death. So naturally he disguised himself (there was no need to, as we were already covered from head to toe in two to five layers of clothing). He took us to a chai shop to relax and to pass out another hour of darkness left. Manali was now out of question – it would take at least twelve hours of riding to reach there (provided all went well). Shimla was considered, but it would be swarming with terrorists, oops, tourists. Finally we decided on Chail, a quaint, little town near Shimla. At seven, we quit the chai shop and decided to have breakfast – the famous poori-sabzi of Ambala. At eight, after those yummy pooris, we left NJ’s hometown, destination – Chail.

Stage two

Riding on Ambala-Chandigarh expressway was fun. Although there was fog, but at least there was daylight. The problem with the rear tire persisted – it was annoying. Took right from Zirakpur towards Panchkula. Last time I was here, it was a nightmare with diversions full of traffic jams. This time the road was an absolutely amazing four lane highway. En route, we stopped at a mechanic and rectified the problem with the bike – it turned out to be a loose chain. Also, I changed the engine oil and the spark plugs. Then began the part we’ve all been waiting for – the mountains. I was riding slowly till now while NJ and Shivam were cruising throughout, now I’ll show them how to ride in the mountains. After a kilometer, I fell down. Negotiating a turn and a stupid driver backing his car, I braked hard and, being new to the technology of disc brakes, couldn’t control the bike and fell sideways. Thankfully, everyone was ahead of me so nobody saw me falling off. Rested for a couple of minutes and then took off again.
Riding in mountains is completely different from riding in plains. For a start, you need to be extra alert. Second, maneuvering the bends at optimum speed is difficult. I always went very slowly on bends and then when I started to accelerate, another one came. Third, beware of vehicles with number plates starting with HP. They drive at maniacal speeds adamant to crush anyone who comes in front of them. Cars and jeeps are bad enough, but Gods have mercy on you if it’s a truck or bus.
We reached Dharampur. By now, our butts were starting to burn. The Interior Ministry of Large Intestine was creating tremendous pressure – not helping at all. It actually helped in creating a fuck-you attitude inside myself towards every driver coming my way. Suddenly, in search of a decent toilet, I was riding at speeds in excess of sixty kph. The HP-ism of drivers disappeared when I blew horns in return and refused to side away for oncoming vehicles. The next twenty kilometers to Solan passed away in a blur. I spotted a Domino’s in Solan and wondered if it had a toilet. I waited for other three to come (they were left far behind as I sped away on my quest). To my surprise, they arrived after fifteen minutes – I went that far ahead of them.
We all needed a butt-break, we all were hungry, we decided to check if there’s a toilet in there and if yes, eat.

The final push

After jamming the sewers of Solan, I ate the worst pizza of my life. Came out of the eatery and had the following conversation with the guard:

Me: “Bhaiya ye Chail ke liye kidhar se jayenge?”
Guard: “Seedhe jaiye, fir Kandaghat se right le lena.”
Me: “Kitni duur padega?”
Guard: “15 kilometer duur Kandaghat hai, wahaan se 5-7 kilometer Chail hai.”

A wave of relief sped through all of us – just twenty odd kilometers left! Few meters after starting, we noticed a milestone declaring Kandaghat seventeen kilometers away – fair enough. But when Kandaghat was less than a kilometer away, and I can see the right turn to Solan, my eyes found another signage indicating Chail at thirty kilometers! We all cursed the guard in the same breath. We took a butt-break below the signage for five minutes, and prepared ourselves for the final push.
Road from there was narrow single lane. Extra care was required at a time when we had been riding for almost seventeen hours.  Butts were literally on fire now; we had to take breaks at almost every twenty minutes.                     
Saala, abhi bahut duur jana hai.

The bikes


Spot NJ (Hint: look for a dog)



Bhikhaari
 Chail was only seven kilometers away when disaster struck. I was riding pillion with NJ (Peeyush was riding my bike), when I asked him to stop to let others catch us. The truth was, I needed another butt-break (funny how every time I asked for it, NJ obliged promptly). We smelled something burning after getting off the bike. To our horror, the smell was coming from the bike. Almost at the same time, Shivam came and stopped when he saw us. We noticed the same smell coming from his bike too. The road from Sadhupul, thirteen kilometer before Chail, was a constant steep uphill climb. The P220 performed brilliantly on that stretch, accelerating easily on steep slopes, with two men onboard, but eventually got heated up. Five minutes later, we heard the engine of the Avenger, Peeyush’s face carrying expressions of frustration, fatigue and fear.

Peeyush: “Abe gaadi kharaab ho gai hai..!!”
NJ: “Kya hua?”
Peeyush: “Ajeeb si aawaz aa rahi hai. Aur kitna bhi race do, aage hi nai badh rahi.”

He was having the same problem – bike heated up, refusing to accelerate. We decided to wait until they all cooled down. It was frustrating to wait so close to our destination.

Not in a deep thought...trying to find mobile connection

In a deep thought...waiting...for the bikes to cool down

It took nearly half an hour for the bikes to cool down. We carried on.

Chail

Riding slowly, not putting too much pressure on the bikes, we reached Chail in another thirty minutes. Search for the hotel will have to wait. First, search for a liquor shop. We found one – bought some and started searching for a hotel. It took nearly two hours until we found a suitable hotel – light was fading and the temperature was dropping faster than drunken girls in stilettos. We crashed on the bed; I was afraid I’d fall asleep so I didn’t close my eyes. After an hour I dragged everybody to the restaurant for food and drinks. The restaurant had a terrace where a bonfire could be arranged. We decided to keep indoors – it was freezing out there. A Punjabi group – couple of sardars, couple of pseudo-sardars (dyed-gelled-spiked hair, manicured stubble) and some girls started the bonfire. An hour later, they were regretting their decision, but were too proud to show it. Occasionally, we went outside on the terrace and despite of five layers of clothing, I was shivering. GPS showed the temperature as minus two degrees. There was also a lunar eclipse in progress, which we watched mesmerized. After a couple of hours, we called it a day and went to sleep. Dozed off immediately.

Something clicked inside my stomach and my digestive system went for a toss. I had to wake up three times in the night and go to the loo. They shouldn’t put toilet jet streams in hill stations - my ass froze.
Next morning, everyone woke up late. After some bakar session and some breakfast, we decided to decide today’s itinerary. There was a national park nearby, but no one wanted to go there in this cold. Winter is the mating season for most animals – a wild gay dog could easily take NJ for a ride. We decided to Chail palace a miss – why would a person from Delhi (or Rajasthan) come so far to visit a palace? We then decided to go to the world’s highest cricket ground. It took another hour to get ready and go out. Bikes were freezing cold from the night; we could still se our butt-prints on the seats. It was another very steep climb to the cricket ground. But it was closed. We were only able to take some pictures.







While riding down, we saw directions to a temple and decided to go there – thank the Gods for our safe journey (and ask for some more of it). It was actually a temple complex with many mandirs of all the major Gods and Goddesses. Spent some time there and came back to the main market for lunch. It took two hours for the cook of the restaurant (who was also the owner), in the market, to prepare our lunch – it was pathetic nevertheless.
In the evening, we dared to arrange the bonfire – it wasn’t as chilly as the previous night.
Had some drinks and crashed to bed early – for an early start to home tomorrow.

The return - 12th Dec

We started at around 8:30am from the hotel. The ride back was quick – going down – and uneventful. My toes began hurting from cold wind – I feared frostbite – ridiculous. Within two hours, we crossed Solan, and two hours later we were back on the plains. I got separated from the group and was riding ahead of others. Our meeting point was a food joint in Karnal – Savoy Greens. We reached there at around four in the evening, had a late lunch and started for Delhi.
We rode leisurely from thereon and reached Delhi border by eight, punched the air and had a beer to celebrate. Dropped Peeyush at metro station and reached home at nine.

I couldn’t recognize my face in the mirror – windswept, dried tears, hair glued to the skull after four days of riding – I needed a long bath. At dinner I realized how tired I was. It was an effort to keep my eyes open. Slept like a baby.

Gyaan

1.      Always wear protective gears while riding – helmet, knee pads (none of us had those), gloves, etc.
2.      Never get frustrated when people, upon seeing your riding gear, start asking questions, however foolish. Always answer them politely. Most of them are locals, and drunk. Try not to get beaten up.
3.      While riding in fog, it’s a good idea to find a big vehicle – a bus or a truck doing decent speed - and follow it. However, maintain a good distance between it and yourself. These vehicles are most prone to accidents. It will help you avoid getting pasted on their backsides.
4.      Carry medicines, however short the distance or duration. I didn’t carry any, which let the mutiny in my digestive system get worse.
5.      Avoid braking hard on mountain roads. Rely on reducing speed by lowering the gears.
6.      Negotiate. Hotel prices, road-side mechanics, speed.

Acknowledgements

1.      God – for the safe journey.
2.      Wife - for the support and encouragement.
3.      Parents - for not freaking out. 
4.      Co-riders – for the fun.
5.      Jeetender Singh Gandhi – for letting me borrow his bike.
  

Saturday, October 8, 2011

Books and Movies

If you count the number of movies that have been based on books, number one, either you are insane or you have absolutely no work at your job and, number two, you are going to spend a lot of time doing this activity – such is the huge number.
It’s not difficult to understand why – books have been around centuries (or millennia) before the movies. Also, people like to see their imagination taking shape – we always wondered what Hogwarts looked like or how magnificent the city of Gondor is. A picture is worth a thousand words.
Most of them are utterly forgettable (remember Bride and Prejudice?), but some are true masterpieces. Chronologically (strictly), I want to list some of those movies which have had a lasting impression on me.

The Godfather

I remember the aghast, torn look on my cousin’s face when I told him that I’ve read the Godfather and it’s a brilliant book. “Kya bakwaas kar rahe ho…wo book nai..granth hai…granth!!” were his exact words. A friend of mine, who was a die-hard fan of Amitabh Bachchan, tells me one day, “Abe bachchanwa to nakal karta hai…Al Pacino ki…Godfather dekho…samajh mein aa jayega”. Two of the several millions who are mesmerized by this phenomenon. The story of an underworld don and his family, their relationships interwoven with tactics, deceit, loyalty and politics of this highly flammable and violent world. The metamorphosis and rise of a simple all-American man to a don. The book captivates you, you refuse to let it down, you want to finish it then and there. The movie, fascinating – classic. And Al Pacino, you do wonder if bachchanwa really tries to imitate him.
The impact: When you see all those gangsters, wearing a suit, and a hat, and a muffler over the neck, and a cigar or pipe in mouth, and a gruffy voice, it all came from Don Vito Corleone.
The moment: Michael goes to hospital to visit his father, notices that the police security is absent, and realizes the conspiracy to assassinate his father (again). He stands in front of the hospital with an aide. The tension you feel while reading or watching is tangible. Also, you can feel his helplessness when the corrupt police officer punches him and the relief when his family’s consigliere arrives with private guards.
The line: “I’ll make him an offer he can’t refuse.”

Harry Potter Series

An orphan living with his aunt and uncle, who treat him like a street dog, is unaware that he is the most famous boy in the world…and he’s a wizard. What follows is history. JK Rowling would never have realized that this imaginary kid and his world will start a following that will be bigger than the Star Wars and the James Bonds…combined. Those seven books, and eight movies, fascinated the whole world for more than a decade. There are many things, in favor of this series, which make a difference, which make it stand apart. The imagination of the author – Hogwarts, Quidditch, or the brilliant characterizations which enable you to practically know what the particular character is thinking, or the progressive change in the language of the books or the direction of the movies keeping the age of the fans in mind. But the thing that really clinches it is really simple. The secret world of magic. Wizards and witches. Harry, Hermione and Ron. Quidditch. Albus Percivel Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. And ofcourse, Hogwarts.
The impact: A whole generation brainwashed.
The moment: There are many. Harry accidently freeing a python on his cousin, his first Quidditch match, His first encounter which Voldemort, Dumbledore’s death. Or maybe the climax, where he explains and proves Tom Riddle a moron, which the movie desperately failed to show us.
The line: "EXPECTO…PATRONUM..!!!" 

Lord of the Rings

Watching the first movie was a disappointment. Brilliant though it was, I absolutely hated waiting for sequels. It was in college when I realized the fan following this series had. Curiosity got the better of me when a local multiplex announced the screening of the whole saga upon the release of the final part, and I watched all the three movies in one go. I remember having trouble coming to terms with the real world when I got out of the multiplex – the buses, the cars, the McDonalds. Not a single horse in sight? Not a single sword glinting?
To say that the movies were grand is an understatement. No words can describe them. You have to actually watch them to understand the innocence of the Shire, the beauty of Rivendell, the dearth of Mordor, the power of the Rohirrim, or the grandeur of Gondor. I rest my case.
The impact: Short-lived. Like coming to terms with the normal world after coming out of the cinema.
The moment: The charge of the Rohirrim. Whether at Helm’s Deep or at Gondor. You can feel your mouth hanging open.
The line: "It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out of your door. You step into the Road, and if you don't keep your feet, there is no telling where you might be swept off to."

The Bourne Series

Robert Ludlum has an obsession with details. That may be the reason why his books are evidently so long. So long that it took three movies to cover a single book. The books are perceptional – some may describe them as great works, some may shrug, and some may dub them as just an average spy novel stuff. But the movies are pure gold. For those who haven’t read the books beforehand (like myself), it’s an experience. You start with nil, just like the protagonist, who is suffering from amnesia, and you learn along with him as he learns things about himself, all alone. The USP, according to me, is how, through simple tactics, diversions and tricks, one man – the fact that he is the most lethal assassin in the world notwithstanding – takes on the might of the CIA. A few years ago, in the era of the Schwarzeneggers and the Stallones, this would have been deemed impossible.
The impact: Almost ended the era of larger-than-life action heroes. Jason Bourne was one of the first action characters who actually were confused, erratic and afraid at times. Machine guns were no longer the only option.
The moment: The scene in The Bourne Ultimatum where he directs a journalist over cell phone and helps him dodge more than a dozen government agents at a crowded Liverpool station. Mind blowing.
The lines: Bourne: "I’ll talk to someone I know. There was a girl in Paris, Nicky."
Landy: "What if I can't find her?"
Bourne: "It's easy. She's standing right next to you."      

Sarkar

I had a lot of respect for RGV (in those days), so I restrained myself from cursing him to make a remake of the Godfather. After watching the movie, I was stunned. From Frame One, where we see a yellow and black auto rickshaw framed artfully between barbed wire, the movie begins with a hapless man going to meet Sarkar, in search of retribution for his raped daughter. As he walks down the compellingly shot, dark hallways in the fantastically chosen old mansion, we sit rapt with attention, looking at a Godfather recreation - the story of Bonasera, and how Don Corleone got him vengeance. Sarkar does the same, and very interestingly. It's the same plot, but Ramu does it entirely his way. Supported by absolutely brilliant acting by the Bachchans and Kay Kay Menon, this masterpiece of a movie creates pure magic.
The impact:  Resurrected Bachchan Jr. He had Dhoom under his belt, but now everybody knew that he can act.
The moment: In jail, Sarkar and Shankar are sitting, Sarkar asks Shankar to go back to America, Shankar declines. Hardly anything is spoken between the two, but the eyes say everything…intense.
The line: Mujhe jo sahi lagta hai wo main karta hoon…fir chahe wo samaaj ke khilaaf ho…police, kanoon ke khilaf ho…bhagwaan ke khilaaf ho…ya fir poore system ke khilaaf kyun na ho... 

The Twilight Saga

Just when you thought that Harry Potter cannot have any competition, another book casts a spell on the whole world through its forbidden love story. Teenagers, specially the fairer sex, went swooning over this romance. One can see the appeal – a perfectly ordinary girl, falls in love with a vampire, who looks like a Greek god, behaves like a perfect gentleman, and speaks English in such a way the Queen of England would be proud of. This is every girl’s dream, and every boy’s if you vice-versa it. The obvious notwithstanding, it’s a joy to read and watch them and experience the true undying love they both have for each other. The unconditional surrender of Edward to Bella’s longing and desperation – instead of reading, you want to jump inside the story. Messer’s Mills and Boon – time to pack up?
The impact: Huge. I remember the situation with Shahrukh Khan in the late 90s – the girls adored him, the guys hated him (or pretended to hate him even if they liked him) for precisely that, and his guts. It’s the same with Twilight; the guys hate it because the girls love it. Though most of them secretly read it to takes tips from Edward Cullen.     
The lines:
5. It was a colossal tribute to his face that it kept my eyes away from his body.
4. Bella: "How old are you?"
    Edward: "Seventeen."
    Bella: "How long have you been seventeen?"
    Edward: "A while."
3. Her existence alone was excuse enough to justify the creation of the entire world.
2. Edward: "So the lion fell in love with the lamb."
    Bella: "What a stupid lamb."
    Edward: "What a sick, masochistic lion."          
1. I don’t…have the strength…to stay away from you anymore.

There are other movies, which should be in the list. But I may not have watched them, or may not remember them, or may not have liked them, but certainly don’t care about them. These six have a special place in my heart, because apart from the purpose of entertainment, I have learnt something or the other from each one. Shrewdness from Don Corleone, friendship from Harry, Ron, Hermione and the hobbits, giving second chances from Albus Dumbledore, hope from Gandalf, and love, unconditional, eternal love, from Edward and Bella.