MANJUMMEL BOYS REVIEW

Based on a true story, Manjummel Boys portrays the daring rescue of Subhash, a youngster from Manjummel in Kerala, who slips into a hole in the Guna Caves near Kodaikanal. He is part of a group of friends on holiday during the Onam recess. 

As the movie unfolds, one cannot help but be drawn into the group of friends, initially judged for their childishness. Their unconventional behaviour is a testament to their unwavering loyalty towards each other, a theme that resonates and evokes a sense of camaraderie in the audience. 

Childhood and youth are unique. They are periods when the heart is pure, and everything looks possible. The lust for adventure overpowers the wisdom of caution. Manjummel Boys accurately depicts these nuances, forcing you to grow fond of the boys.

The cinematography stands out for its sharpness and accurate framing of shots. Given the precarious geography of the Guna caves, Director Chidambaram deserves applause for realistically recreating the insides of the caves.

Manjummel Boys is also a sad commentary on the police’s ineptitude and incompetence, compelling the audience to curse their lackadaisical attitude.

Manjummel Boys’ most significant achievement is its showcasing of the triumph of the human spirit against all odds. In this context, I remember a common saying, “Tough times do not last. Tough men do”.

VISIT TO BELUR, HALEBID, AND SHRAVANABELAGOLA

Last weekend, I was on a sightseeing tour of Beluru, Halebeedu, and Shravanabelagola. Located in the Hassan district of Karnataka, these towns rose to prominence during the reign of the Hoysala Emperors in the early part of the first millennium and are witness to a slice of medieval Indian history.

We began the tour with a visit to Beluru, a town famous for the Chennakesava Temple (Chenna means Handsome & Kesava is an avatar of Lord Vishnu). The temple was commissioned by the Hoysala King Vishnuvardhana as a tribute to Lord Vishnu in 1117 CE. It took one hundred years to construct and use three generations of workers.

The Chennakesava Temple combines fine architecture, exquisite sculpture, and detailed relief work. Its walls are replete with stories from the Mahabharata, Ramayana, and Puranas. Despite many attacks by Alauddin Khilji’s army, the temple has retained its splendour and is a living embodiment of resilience. 

Dedicated to Lord Shiva, the Hoysaleshwara twin temple at Halebeedu was also built by King Vishnuvardhana and houses the Hoysaleswara and Santaleswara Shiva Lingas. Like its counterpart in Beluru, it is notable for sculptures, intricate reliefs, detailed friezes, iconography, and inscriptions in North Indian and South Indian scripts.

What the two temples have in exquisiteness, the 58-foot Gomateshwara statue in Shravanabelagola makes up for in size. Dedicated to Baahubali, the son of a Jain Thirthankara, the structure is the world’s largest monolithic statue and one of the most important pilgrimage destinations in Jainism.

Thankfully, the weather in Hassan was pleasant. The day we landed, the clouds were on the verge of a cloudburst. Luckily, it did not rain, and as a result, the weather was perfect – neither too warm nor cold. This allowed me to soak in the beauty of Belur, Halebeedu, & Shravanabelagola and appreciate the nuances of their rich history.

Why I liked Jaane Jaan

Set in the hilly tracts of Kalimpong, ‘Jaane Jaan’ is a movie about Maya D’Souza (Kareena Kapoor Khan), a single mother. When she is accused of murder, she finds unanticipated help from her neighbour, the socially inept but gifted Mathematics teacher Naren Vyas (Jaideep Ahlawat).S

Kareena Kapoor Khan, a seasoned actor, delivers a brilliant performance in a new role. She deftly plays Maya, the cafe owner struggling to make ends meet. While we are used to seeing her exude oomph, in Jaane Jaan, she manages to impress in a middle-aged avatar. Her grace wins her many admirers, most notably Naren. As a result, Naren visits Maya’s cafe often, more for her and less for the egg-fried rice.

Jaideep Ahlawat is terrific as the steely Naren Vyas. Lonely and depressed, he masks his unhappiness with dignity. He cannot articulate his fondness for Maya, whom he loves most after mathematics.

Vijay Varma shines as Inspector Karan Anand, the Mumbai police officer tasked with finding corrupt cop Ajit Mhatre’s killer. He is sharp and trained to look beyond the obvious. However, he is no match for the genius of Naren.  

Varma’s performance is noteworthy because he, being a newcomer to Bollywood, takes on Kareena Kapoor Khan, one of the industry’s most accomplished actors, with confidence. Also, while Karan is attracted to Maya, the movie doesn’t succumb to the temptation of melodramatising the two.

Jaane Jaan is also a story of the triumph of the human spirit against all odds. Naren and Maya, both waging a battle on their personal fronts, show the determination and courage to craft their destinies. While Maya is moving on after a messy marriage, the suicidal Naren finds in Maya a reason to live. Their never-say-die spirit is the thread that holds the story together.

Jaane Jaan is also noteworthy for its crisp narrative. There are no wasted scenes or unnecessary dialogues, and the makers brilliantly pull off a story around a murder cover-up.

What is also unique about Jaane Jaan is how it uses Mathematics to enrich the narrative. Right from Naren’s empathy for a struggling student, Naren’s tireless efforts to solve complex mathematics problems, and the clever use of the subject to obfuscate the truth, the power of mathematics is on full display.

The investigation into Ajit Mhatre’s murder hits a dead end. While Maya is let off due to a lack of evidence, Naren finds the right environment to pursue his passion for mathematics – jail.

Breakfast at Malleswaram

My Sunday began with breakfast at Malleswaram’s Krishna Bhavan. Along with friends at Godrej Woodsman Estate, I was in the mood for authentic Kannada food, and Malleswaram, with its vast number of South Indian restaurants, was the ideal choice.  

We had planned to dine at CTR (Central Tiffin Room), but the long queue of customers discouraged us. After deliberation, we zoned in on Krishna Bhavan; it was close and made equally good food.

Krishna Bhavan is one of Bangalore’s oldest restaurants, famous for Dosas roasted in ghee and served with a dash of butter.  

We ordered a plate each to experience Krishna Bhavan’s culinary magic. Once the dosas arrived, accompanied by chutney and sambar, we wasted no time and got into the act of eating. We relished every morsel, and every bite reinforced Krishna Bhavan’s reputation.

After the first dosa, our minds told us it was time to stop, but our hearts felt otherwise. Deciding to listen to our hearts, we shared a plate of Vada, ‘Green Idly’, and Kesari Baath. 

‘Green Idly’ also happens to be a Krishna Bhavan speciality. It consists of small, fried idlis soaked in green leafy vegetable sauce. Quite unlike the soft idlis that South India is famous for, the frying renders it crisp, and the green sauce, quite strangely, reminds you of chilli chicken. 

Although every item we ordered tasted divine, the Kesari Baath stole the show. Keshri Baath is South India’s equivalent to Halwa. It combines the right amount of sweetness & richness and melts in your mouth like butter. A few amongst us decided to pack some; we were sure our families, especially the children, would enjoy it. 

After finishing a satisfying meal at Krishna Bhavan, we returned to the car. Although we had no alternative but to walk to the car, we realised that walking burnt a part of the calories that we had gained from the rich food. It also assuaged our guilt.  

I bid goodbye to my friends at the car and proceeded to my tabla class nearby. As I walked, I was eager for a repeat of the morning’s breakfast sojourn. Our group rarely spends time outside the badminton court, so a Sunday morning breakfast is an excellent opportunity to bond. After all, what is life without friends and food?

Mysore Diaries – Day 1

As I sit in my hotel room to record my first impressions of Mysore, I am unsure how to begin. Actually, these are not first impressions; my uncle, who loved traveling, visited Kodaikanal or Ooty with us and passed through Mysore often. As a result, I am familiar with tourist spots like the Brindavan Gardens, Krishnaraj Sagar Dam, and the Mysore Palace.

This time, I am with my mother for a conference on food security. She is going to speak on food fortification and its impact on livelihoods. Since the topic does not interest me, I plan to explore Mysore as she goes about lecturing.

But my travel will begin tomorrow, so I cannot say much about the places I am yet to explore. Yet, my ordeal with reaching the Bangalore railway station en route to Mysore this morning is worth mentioning. 

The Shatabdi Express to Mysore was due to leave Bangalore at 10.50 AM. Although my mother and I got ready in time by 9, finding an Uber wasted precious time. It took the app on my phone half an hour to allow a taxi and fifteen more minutes for the driver to pick us up. So we ended up leaving only at 9.45. The heavy traffic (something Bangalore is famous for) forced us to take an alternate route. This, coupled with the fact that the platform from which the train was to leave was unknown to us, made matters worse. And if you thought that was the end of our woes, you are mistaken. Majestic Railway Station, the point at which we were boarding the train, was jam-packed ahead of Prime Minister Modi’s scheduled visit. The BBMP, in a last-minute beautification frenzy, had blocked the entrance to the railway station. This forced passengers like us to disembark much before the station and walk for two hundred meters with luggage in our hands. My mother, aghast at the situation, argued with the taxi driver and local police.

I tried to keep my cool. At least I gave the impression that I was. So, upon reaching the platform, we got on to the nearest coach. We had no choice as the train was to leave any minute. Besides, the internal connection of all compartments made us feel confident. We had to cross seven coaches before we could arrive at ours. This took a while, but when we made it, both mother and son heaved a sigh of relief. 

The Island of Guypajama

Guypajama is a lush tropical paradise. A large variety of trees thrive on the length and breadth of the island. As you climb out of your boat and step onto the land, the smell of wet earth greets you. Guypajama is like any tropical region – warm by day and wet by night. 

As you walk around the island, you have leeches sucking the blood out of your feet. They are not painful and hard to discover. I spotted five of them clinging onto me once I returned to my room and removed my shoes. Some had sucked so much blood that they had grown to the size of a tennis ball. 

It is common to see snakes on the island. I spotted one the other day; it was about five metres long, had a hood and was hissing. It met the textbook definition of a cobra.

A thick canopy of trees blocks the sunlight. In some parts, thin shafts of light enter through narrow gaps in the foliage. 

Guypajama is a sensory feast. The air smells of damp earth; the sound of birds confirms again that you are in a forest, far removed from the bustling city. As the humid air engulfs you, you desire a bath.

I spotted a group of howler monkeys in the trees. Their hysterical laughter was annoying. I felt like slapping them but could not, for obvious reasons. Their howling increased when a piece of rotten fruit landed on my head. Indeed, their behaviour was far from cordial – I wished I hadn’t encountered them.

An architectural ruin is present in the centre of the island. The Incas who ruled this area centuries ago had built this fort-like structure.

As dusk approaches, you can hear the birds returning to their nests. Busy with hunting for food the whole day, they are on their way back home, looking forward to relaxing with family.

As night approaches, you hear the sound of crickets chirping. The constant buzz they produce reminds you of a lawnmower and also that it is time to call it a day. 

Sherdil: The Pilibhit Saga Review

Sherdil: The Pilibhit Saga is a movie about Sarpanch Gangaram (Pankaj Tripathi) whose village is on the cusp of poverty and indebtedness as a result of crops destroyed by wild animals. Desperate for a solution, Gangaram plans to get killed by a tiger so that his village can benefit from the compensation money. 

As Gangaram chalks out the nuances of his bizarre plan, one cannot help but smile at the purity and innocence of his purpose. Tripathi’s genius leaves you with no choice but to grow fond of Gangaram.

Based on true events, Sherdil: The Pilibhit Saga does more than send a chill down your spine. It exposes the rampant red-tapism and apathy to the plight of the poor in government offices. In the opening scene, Gangaram laments to a government official about how he has been running from pillar to post trying to get help, but to no avail. The officer’s smugness in attributing the suicides to mental illness leaves you fuming.

Sherdil: The Pilibhit Saga also ventures into the philosophical realm. For example, when a hungry Gangaram refuses meat because he believes that a vegetarian like him will go to hell, the poacher Jim Ahmed (Neeraj Kabi) replies with an existential answer. He says that humanity is but a tiny blip in the history of the universe. Men may come and men may go, but the laws of the jungle go on forever. 

Through Sherdil: The Pilibhit Saga, Director Srijit Mukherjee comments on contemporary Indian politics. For instance, when Gangaram’s story reaches the media, newsrooms across the country engage in heated debates trying to fix the blame for his situation. The joke is not lost on the viewers when the spokesperson of a political party reasons that since it was Nehru who christened the tiger India’s national animal, it is he who is at fault. According to the spokesperson, if Nehru had instead chosen the cow, things would not have come to such a pass. 

Gangaram’s heartfelt speech in court towards the end sums up the mess the Indian state has made of forest-related issues. His demand for a ‘human reserve’ to protect poor people like him is both revealing and depressing. While such reserves are sure to protect their human inhabitants, they also relegate humanity to the status of animals. 

Given that Sherdil: The Pilibhit Saga is shot mostly in the forest, the scope for visual appeal was limited. However, the crisp dialogues and powerful acting make up for the limitation.

Sherdil: The Pilibhit Saga is a must watch because the cast (led by Pankaj Tripathi) and the crew (led by Director Srijit Mukherjee) make you laugh and think at the same time. 

‘Darlings’ Review

‘Darlings’, Jasmeet K Reen’s directorial debut, is a movie about Badru (Alia Bhatt)’s struggle with an abusive husband Hamza (Vijay Varma). The film showcases Badru’s metamorphosis from a gullible wife to a more assertive individual aware of her rights. 

Badru’s mother Shamshu (Shefali Shah) is her daughter’s bedrock of support. She sees through Hamza early on and advises Badru to separate, but to no avail. It takes a miscarriage to make Badru realise that Hamza is like a scorpion and that friendship with a scorpion is fraught with danger.

The film portrays how well-meaning attempts to make Hamza kick the bottle boomerang on Badru. Badru believes that Hamza will turn over a new leaf if he quits drinking. But Hamza, who gives up drinking after a warning from his doctor, continues to misbehave. Alcohol is clearly an excuse for Hamza’s gas lighting. With this, the film also challenges the notion that men will be men.

Darlings also portrays how lower-middle-class victims of abuse often let go of the chance to get justice because they fear social stigma.

Alia Bhatt and Shefali Shah breathe life into a mundane Mumbai Chawl with their acting prowess. They are the energy and life of their neighbourhood with their deft portrayal of lower-middle-class women fighting poverty and abusive partners.

Darlings also legitimizes the use of violence to counter domestic abuse. Quite understandable, given Badru’s desperate situation vis Hamza.

Despite its dark theme, Darlings has its lighter moments. Whether it is the confused cop Rajaram Tawde (Vijay Maurya) or ticket collector Damle (Kiran Karmakar), you smile when they occupy screen space. Of course, Alia Bhatt and Shefali Shah are the ones who make you laugh the most. 

Vijay Verma’s portrayal of the mean Hamza Shaikh deserves applause. Being paired opposite a formidable actor like Alia Bhatt must have been daunting. Yet, Verma rises to the occasion with a performance that is sure to stand him in good stead in future Bollywood projects.

The statutory warning at the end sums up the movie aptly: Violence against women is injurious to health. 

A Love For Mathematics

I love the cold and ruthless logic of mathematics. Although according to conventional standards I discovered my love for maths late, I have no regrets. There is no right or wrong time to discover one’s passion for a subject.

Till class twelve, mathematics for me was a part of the syllabus. I could not appreciate its finer nuances because I had to devote time to my non-maths coursework. After graduating from school, I began a BSc in mathematics, physics and chemistry. This is the time I reflected on the subtle concepts of maths and science. 

I was diffident about doing maths as I felt my mother had pushed me into it. While she believed that a base in maths and science would serve me well later, I didn’t think so. I believed that one ought to follow one’s passion, which, for me at that time, was not mathematics. I even accused her of parental pressure. The tough combination I had chosen made matters worse. But my mother put up with my rants and urged me to keep trying. 

After a lot of protests, I put my mind to the three subjects. But despite my efforts, I couldn’t clear them all. I had three papers left – Chemistry, Maths 2 and Maths 3. I took a year off to try and complete these three subjects. And that’s when the real fun began.

In that year, I took a deep dive into mathematics by devoting close to seven hours a day to studying the subject. I practised problems at an intensive level to become thorough with the subject.

Regular practice trained me in logical thinking and face problems with a step-by-step approach. I also saw my confidence improve. 

During this time, I also understood why some people describe maths as truth. It is because Mathematics teaches you integrity and trains you to accept things based on facts and evidence. It forces you to question the status quo and take the analytical route to solve problems.

After seven months of rigorous practice, I gave my exams and sailed through all my subjects. I had gotten so fond of maths that I wanted to study it further. But since my marks were poor, I settled for journalism. But I was, and remain, glad that I got a flavour of mathematics in college. And I have my mother to thank for that!

Now, seventeen years down the line, I continue to follow the latest breakthroughs in science and technology. I have also used the pandemic-induced lockdown to refresh my understanding of Calculus, one of the key branches of mathematics. And when my nieces and nephews seek my help with maths problems, my happiness knows no bounds!

The Curious Antique Shop

I live close to my school and walk back home every day after classes. Usually, I take the shortest route on my return. This has often led me to wonder about the shops and people that lie on the other longer routes. I once shared my curiosity with a friend, who said that he knew of a row of antique shops on the way and that they were worth a look. He said that there were other shops too but couldn’t recollect what they sold. His selective memory didn’t surprise me, as I knew of his close bond with antique pieces. His father was an antiquarian with a large collection of antiques at home. Intrigued, I took the opportunity to go by the less-taken road back home yesterday. 

The antique shop had an inconspicuous look with a broken, slanted board. The board had something vague inscribed on it, which I could decipher as ‘Roy’s Antiques’. Piqued, I opened the door and entered.  

I saw rows of animal & human skeletons arranged on the walls. The stuffed zebra, horse, monkey, stag, and deer were intimidating. There was also a jar with a dead anaconda preserved in formalin. It reminded me of my biology teacher, Mr Dawson’s, laboratory in school. I sensed the human skeleton staring hard at me and did my best to remain calm. The other objects inside the shop were equally spooky, and I wished I hadn’t entered.

As I approached the sales counter, an old, frail man greeted me. His toothless smile complemented the antique collection in his shop. He welcomed me and asked if I’d like to buy something. 

I was visiting the shop out of sheer curiosity. I had not planned to buy anything, so I replied by saying I was just a window shopper. He grinned once again and asked me to window-shop to my hearts content. 

Once done with the large display of human and animal skeletons, I bid goodbye to the old shopkeeper and left. I heaved a sigh of relief, as I wasn’t sure if I’d come out in one piece, unlike the antique pieces I had just seen.

As I was walking back home, I remembered that my friend had mentioned not one but many other other such shops on the road. So I looked and found, to my surprise, five antique shops arranged neatly in a row. But having just been to one of them, I hadn’t the guts to enter another. I let them be and hurried back home.