Chhatri na khol barsaat mein... !

When I was very very young and impressionable, I had seen an advertisement for Gladrags model hunt in some magazine. It said that men need to be minimum 6 feet in height to be eligible to compete. Somehow, that figure stuck in my head and I always wanted to be taller than 6 feet. But as it happens in most tragic stories, I stopped growing in height after 5'10''. I was shocked, shattered, paranoid and inconsolable when that happened. Buy then I meekly accepted it as my fate. Of course, the fact that I was still taller than more than half of men around me helped to alleviate my misery.

But then, at times, you just wish you weren't as tall as you are. For example, when venturing out of home in rainy season - all you see is a sea of umbrellas in front of you, and you also get poked in the eye (Ow!) with tips of umbrella ribs carried by all the dwarves around you.

I have now decided I don't like umbrellas after all. I don't completely blame my height. It's also the dumbness of people that's responsible for my distrust of umbrellas. Here's my advice to you, umbrella-carriers-on-the-streets-of-Calcutta:

*If you want to carry an umbrella, please also carry a plastic bag, to keep the wet umbrella in it once you have boarded a bus, auto, metro train. It may not seem that important to you, but your co-passengers certainly don't want to get soaked because you are most likely to push that dripping wet umbrella against their bodies!
*When you want to open an umbrella, please either move to a safe spot, or look around to see if anyone is likely to get hurt. Umbrellas have these pointy tips which can be pretty dangerous, in case you haven't noticed.
*Umbrella is to save you from rain, not for dueling. So, please don't rush madly through a crowd of people with your umbrella jostling for space with theirs.

Or maybe don't carry an umbrella at all. Saves so much trouble for me!

And, by the way, watch that totally awesome rain song here.

Kahan se kharidi, aisi Bokwaas script? Wait, who cares for a script, let's make cars fly!

Bringing Lungis back in fashion
- Chinnai Express collection

I was never fond of travelling by train. Even as a kid, while my cousins would fight for the window seat, I would be only too happy to lodge myself on the upper berth with a comic book in my hand. 

And then there are always painful memories of that exceptionally long train journey, of being stuck in an 'express' train that trudges along at snail speed, delayed by several hours, of bowels giving you trouble (it always happens to me in a train!), of the bawling of hawkers, of over-crowded compartments because of ticket-less passengers requesting you to 'adjust'. Watching Chennai Express was like reliving those memories. Plus SRK and his hamming thrown in. Need I say more?

The movie is all about Rahul, a 40-year old smart-ass, who tries in vain to make you laugh at his buffoonery, all done in the name (and much to the shame) of common man. In most of the movie, he just whines and cribs like an extremely nagging girlfriend, and actually does a poor job of even that with his comic timing way off the mark. He also wins the award for the shadiest hero ever, who, upon being beaten by the villain, meekly leads him to their secret hideout to capture the heroine as well. Surprisingly, the only funny moments in the movie come from Deepika, who methinks has done a somewhat better job here than most other movies where she chooses to just expose her legs instead. 

So this kid in the family sitting next to us at the theater complains to his dad during interval, 'Papa, I am bored.'

Papa suggests, 'Play game on the phone, beta'

'Kuch comedy hi nahi hai'

'Arre, second half mein aayega shayad'

And then when the movie ended, he asks, 'Papa, is movie ka naam Chennai Express kyun hai?' I did not wait for his father's reply.

Sadly, the future of Bollywood doesn't look bright either. With Shahid Kapoor impersonating a dog, and Ranbir Kapoor advocating 'padding' for men, the movie buff in me can only weep. Tragic, no?