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Saturday, November 28, 2009

Censored in India, Savita Bhabhi goes French

Savita Bhabhi Book Cover - Love in BollywoodShe's one porn star who has everyone 'excited', right from the government babus to the editors in the newsrooms.

Though Savita Bhabhi has been back after the ban via a new domain, the resurrection also seems to have been obstructed. The new website www.kirtu.com doesn't seem accessible directly (there's always the other way around), atleast on the ISPs that I use. Apparently the process of denying access to the new website has already been initiated.

Shunned by her own government, Savita Bhabhi has found succour with the French. "France gives sexual asylum to Savita Bhabhi," could scream a headline (just couldn't resist using the term).

It might seem that, like our television channels, I'm blowing things out of proportion. Well, I am.

It's only that Savita Bhabhi has been published as a comic book (in ink and paper) by Editions Blanche, a French publisher specialising in erotic literature.

Titled Love in Bollywood also Bollywood in Love (depending on the cover you look at) the book was released a month back on October 22, 2009. The 96-page comic book authored by Deshmukh, has been designed by Dexstar and Madman (all pseudonyms).

The book, Bollywood in Love - les Aventures de Savita Bhabhi, (Bollywood in Love - The Adventures of Savita Bhabhi) is also available on Amazon France for €13.25.

All bans aren't bad, as many Bollywood producers would agree. The Indian government's restriction Savita Bhabhi has made her India's most famous porn star ever.

The widespread media coverage and online discussions have generated more following for the cartoon porn star than the ones in flesh and blood - Shakeela, Sunny Leone, Angela Devi, Priya Rai - put together.

Now that she's been published in other languages too, Savita Bhabhi might find a place along with the Kamasutra and Khajuraho whenever sex and India are mentioned together in the same sentence anywhere in the world.

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Sunday, September 02, 2007

The Literary Chaiwallah

Before you get any ideas about me turning an author, let me clarify that the chaiwallah in question isn't the faux tea vendor who maintains this blog but a genuine one who has penned 18 books over 30 years. Watch the story of Laxman Rao aka Lekhakji.

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Wednesday, August 29, 2007

'RAW, Mossad, IRA join hands to bomb Pak'

The headline may sound as sensational as if it was from one of the television news channels (who are a major source of worry for the K-queen Ekta Kapoor). Though any such possibility might seem remote now (but you never know the ways of war) an Edmundian, Nitya Anand Chepuri has conjured this idea in his novel Tarbela Damned - Pakistan Tamed.

I'm yet to read the book (will go looking for it today) but the plot does sound exciting, especially for a generation who have been brought up on the idea that our 'pesky' neighbour is the reason for all our ills. Two men who studied together in school - St. Edmund's Shillong - and then went on to IIT Madras. The Hindu, Rahul Sharma joins the RAW and the Jew, Solomon Rabban, migrates to Israel and joins the Mossad. The Irish Republican Army angle is due to the influence of an Irishman, Brother Manahan, who taught them in School (St. Edmund's is run by the Christian Brothers founded by Edmund Ignatius Rice at Waterford, Ireland). They join hands in pursuit of their mission, taming Pakistan.

There might be some parallels in the story line with the author's life who had studied in St. Edmunds before passing out from the Defence Services Public School and graduating from IIT Madras. He then went on to join the army. The reviews say that "there is no off-putting jingoism and no cold-bloodedness," which is indeed welcome for a novel with a title like Tarbela Damned - Pakistan Tamed.

Tarbela Dam, built across the river Indus, is Pakistan's largest dam and is therefore of vital importance for the country. And Pakistanis on hearing of an 'imminent danger' to it are understandably worried. Anand pointed me to a Pakistani military and strategic discussion forum, where some members took the plot of the novel for real and posted interesting reactions. Here are a few samples (unedited):

* I can understand RAW and MOSSAD masterminding something but how does the Irish military come into this? Is this some troops in Afghanistan?

Anyway these dams need proper protection because RAW and MOSSAD can send mindcontrol zombies to do a suicide bombing on one of them. Dams are fragile and very hard to fix. I think its against the geneva convention to even bomb a damn during war.

* dams are not military targets, in war you are not meant to hit dams and if someone does then they will be nuked

* If the military stay in power then any such attack would be considered an act of war against pakistan. Doesn't matter who does it, Talibs or not, without dams pakistan would go down the drain. This is why we would ensure India goes down with us, meaning All nukes to indian and israeli cities. Also the factor of Indian nukes beng called a bluff, cause we're not sure if they can actually nuke us or not.

* Tell me a single time when the indian or israielies show honesty

* just imagine........
Bhakra Nangal Dam Damned, Bhangies tamed.
Ranjit Sagar Dam Damned, Bhangies tamed.
Gobind Sagar Dam Damned, Bhangies tamed.

Some comments were more realistic:
* it was just a novel by an indian writer. The West, including Israel is not interested in de-stabilizing Pakistan.

Well, I learnt another thing from the thread. Indians are referred to as Bhangies across our western border - maybe due to the still prevalent caste system in our country.

Most well-meaning Indians do not want an instable western neighbour even though we might have fought many wars, the scars of which might take long to heal. Pakistan's stability is good for India. Being surrounded by so-called failed states is a precarious situation in today's volatile times. If India has to develop into a super power that it aspires to be, there has to be political stability and economic growth in all of South East Asia. Because the ground realities here are much different from what existed in the American continents.

You can find more details about the book here.

[Tarbela Damned - Pakistan Tamed
By CN Anand
Published by Indialog Publications
198 pages
Rs 195]


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Thursday, August 02, 2007

My Latest Adventures with Tintin

Tintin and his loveable whisky-loving and faithful fox terrier friend Snowy kept me in adventurous company during many a rainy afternoon. I owned very few of Tintin comics, the price was a big deterrent, but read almost all of them thanks to the comic exchange programme that we friends practiced. One which I missed was the very first one, published in 1929, Tintin in the Land of the Soviets (the other was the last but semi-complete - Tintin and Alph-Art).

Wilfing on the Internet the other day, I accidentally discovered Tintin in the Land of the Soviets on Scribd. Though the artwork in Tintin's first adventure is a far cry from the ones later ones which carried our young reporter (though he's rarely seen doing what reporters usually do) and his four legged friend to different parts of the world (including India, particularly the kingdom of Gaipajama, complete with all the stereotypes of fakirs and the Indian Rope Trick).

The comic book though meant for children is also a critique on different existing political systems. Be it the coup curry of Latin America or the Japanese interference in China. Hergé or Georges Remi (this was a favourite question of quizzards during our time as the name Hergé is a result of transposition of Georges Remi's initials) did support monarchy as depicted by Tintin's friendship with the Maharaja of Gaipyjama or his help for King Muskar XII of Syldavia in King Ottokar's Sceptre. Tintin in the Land of the Soviets shows the Bolsheviks in a very poor light (very unlike what we were taught in the school texts during our time) and this was perhaps the reason why the comic was not available in India. A few examples:














Tintin had inspired a number of people to produce unofficial comic books - one being Tintin in Thailand where Tintin goes on a 'sex holiday' to Thailand (it also features almost all of the major characters) - and I too produced one. I was 14 and in Class VIII when I put my very own Tintin adventure on paper (with pencils, a black Pilot pen and Camlin sketch pens), titling my work Tintin in Shilliont, keeping alive Hergé's tradition of fictitious lands based on real places. Shilliont was Shillong. But unfortunately, I lost that comic. If I remember right, Kisholay Ray (now a budding photographer), a good school pal, who had a much better hand at drawing than me also had his own version.

Though an animated series on the Adventures of Tintin had appeared on television, which I rarely missed (now I'm again rerunning them on my mobile), nothing beats the experience of the comic book in paper.

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Saturday, January 28, 2006

Deathly Diversions

The once-a-river-now-a-drain which divides east Delhi from the rest of it, mythologically has a brother. The sister now maybe an embodiment of death and decay, but Hindus regard the brother - Yama - as the harbinger of the final farewell. Astride a buffalo, a mace in one hand and a rope in the other - he rules over the afterworld and strikes terror in the hearts of mortals. A vision not meant to entertain. But it does.

Of the 330 million gods and goddesses, it is he - the death god - who features in more non-mythological films and television serials. In his CRT, LCD or silver screen avatar Yama's arrival doesn't signify the end - it lightens the mood. Death is the comedian here.

Death is not funny, but black comedy makes us laugh. We know not what lies beyond, we only assume according to our beliefs. Some glorify death - the glorification is a necessity. Governments do it, militant groups do it. But while we are still breathing, why should we let something with a certain conclusion but uncertain timing come in the way?

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell;
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

~ John Donne

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Friday, December 30, 2005

If Rhinos Could Fly

The Flying Rhino
A couple of bookworms down south should be held responsible for this post. Their fancy for bound volumes of the printed word put my time machine on the reverse. I read but not a lot, atleast not nowadays. Traversing back in time, the earliest book that I could recollect reading apart from the ones in my kindergarten reading list was The Flying Rhino. A gift from my parents on one of my initial single digit birthdays. I loved the artwork. The story went something like this:

The Flying Rhino
In India
In the thick Jungle of Assam
With his parents
And his friends
Happy and cheerful
A little rhino
Lived by a pond.

One day
While he was enjoying
His breakfast of leaves
A pretty yellow butterfly
Flew past in the breeze
The rhino looked up and began to wonder

The Flying Rhino
"The butterfly has wings
The fly has wings
All birds have wings
I'm a rhino
So what?
I must also have wings."


The little happy rhino
Soon became sad
Tears rolled down his cheeks
That indeed was very bad.

Mummy papa and all his friends
Asked him
What the matter was
But the little rhino
Could not tell the cause
He did not laugh
Nor did he eat
He didn't go to the water
Despite the terrible heat.

Then one summer night
When no one was awake
He quietly left
And walked away.

After quite some time
The little sad rhino
Stood under a tree
And cried bitterly.

The Flying Rhino
A mother sparrow
Whose nest was just above
Looked down from her perch
"Who are you?
And what's wrong with you?"
Now the little rhino
Sobbed more bitterly.

The sparrow
Left her nest
She saw tears
In rhino's eyes
Her heart melted
With her feathers
Softly and lovingly
She wiped
His flowing tears
"Open your heart to me
I shall help you
Oh, my dear."

The Flying Rhino
The rhino coughed twice
Kind words had touched him
His voice was choked
He managed somehow
"Please help me get two wings"
And he couldn't say more.

The sparrow first laughed
Then became serious
"A funny
I must say, a funny wish
Let me see dear
I may be able to help you
But my dear
Till I'm back
You have to be here."

The Flying Rhino
In the dark summer night
The sparrow flew up
High in the sky
The sun rose up
It went overhead
The rhino waited eagerly
And of course very anxiously

After full four hours
His alert ears
Heard the flutter
Of the sparrow's wings
The sparrow was in sight
She cried out happily
"Good news my dear!
In the ruins near Tezpur
There is a wishing goddess
Just walk to her
To pray and to wish.

Walk to the North
Then to the East
Walk again North
And you'd be there."

The Flying Rhino
The helpful sparrow
The sat on the rhino's nose
And wished him all the best.

Now the little rhino
Walked two days
And two nights
Without rest
He reached the ruins of Tezpur
Just before sunset.

The Flying Rhino
He plucked plenty of leaves
And also some fruits
Offered the wishing goddess
Then with a great effort
Sat down cross-legged
Closed his eyes
And prayed hard
For twenty days
And twenty nights.

The Flying Rhino
One fine morning
The birds were chattering
Before the sun was up
He felt tickled
In his sides
He opened his eyes
He found two wings
To his surprise.

The rhino was thrilled
He jumped with joy
Then he went round and round
Around the wishing goddess
And thanked her many times.

Then he flapped his wings
Like the fly
And yellow butterfly
He was in the air.

He floated above the clouds
He tried to dive
For some time
He tried many feats.

The Flying Rhino
The he thought of the sparrow
And flew to her tree
In just one hour
He called her loud
"My firend, oh my friend
Here I am
The big rhino
Your old old friend."

His voice was horse
And it was scaring
The birds
The squirells
The rabbits,
Even the sparrow,
Hid themselves.

The Flying Rhino
Since the rhino
Didn't see
The sparrow
He landed on the tree
Lo!
The tree fell down
With a thud

With the tree
The rhino fell
Hard on the ground
The birds and the sparrow
The squirrel
And the rabbits
Pecked and bit heard
On his nose
On his ears
And everywhere
With great difficulty
The rhino flapped his wings
Flew up in the air.

Sad and sorry
He crossed the clouds
Flew for many hours
But his little eyes
Had betrayed him this time -
He landed on the ground
On ant hills without sound

The Flying RhinoThe ants didn't spare him
Bit him hard everywhere
Swollen face rhino
Soon took to his wings.

He flew high
Up in the sky
The sun was overhead
He flew for many miles.

Crossed the clouds
Dived down again
And saw a pond
Water!
He was overjoyed
He landed down there
Splish and splash
And he turned around

The Flying Rhino
A huge crocodile
Was ready to swallow him up
The rhino wasted no time
He flapped his wings
And he was in the sky.

The Flying Rhino
He was sad again
"No place in the air
No place on the tree
No place on the land
No place in the water
But why?
Because of my wings?"
So tired
So thirsty
So hungry
So lonely.

The Flying RhinoHe flew up again
Two days and two nights
To the same ruins of Tezpur
To the same wishing goddess
Fell down at her feet
Washed them with tears
Sat down cross-legged
For full one year.

Then one fine morning
He heard a tiny vo9ice
"You silly rhino
No more foolishness
No more."

Now the big rhino
When he opened his eyes
His two heavy wings
Were not there any more

He felt light and nice
Then thanked the wishing goddess
One thousand times.

The Flying RhinoHe walked many days
And of course many nights
Reached his home
That cool and nice pond
His mummy
Papa
And all his friends
Gave him a warm welcome
On his happy return.

By Manorama Jafa
Illustrations: BG Verma

© Children's Book Trust, 1977

Got the moral?

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Monday, December 19, 2005

Deja Vu @ the Call Centre

Anthony's post led to the acquisition of this book. Coincidentally purchased when fanatics were bursting bombs elsewhere in Delhi. Chetan Bhagat's second coming - One Night @ the Call Centre (Rupa & Co. Rs. 95) is nothing much to write about, even 50 days post reading. But there were parts, which stayed. Not for any literary brilliance but déjà vu.

Excerpts:

Prologue

Yes, you see it in the movies, you hear it from friends' friends but it never happens to you.When I was younger, I used to look at the reservation chart stuck outside my train bogie to check out all the female passengers near my seat (F-17 to F-25 is what I'd look for most). Yet, it never happened. In most cases I shared my compartment with talkative aunties, snoring men and wailing infants.


#7

When girls call a guy 'teddy bear' they just mean he is a nice guy but they will never be attracted to him. Girls may say they like such guys, but teddy bears never get to sleep with anyone. Unless of course their moms hunt the neighbourhood for them.


#12

'We get paid well, fifteen thousand a month. F**k, that is almost twelve dollars a day. Alas, I make as much a day as a US burger boy makes in two hours. Not bad for my college degree. Not bad at all. F**king nearly double of what I made as a journalist anyway.'


#12

Settled? The words rewound and repeated itself in my head several times. What does it mean anyway? Just someone rich, or someone who gets predictable cash flows at the end of every month. Except parents do not say it that way because it really sounds like they're trading their daughter to the highest bidder. But in some ways they are. They do not give a damn about love or feeling or crap like that. 'Show me the money and keep our daughter for the rest of your life.' That is the arrangement of arranged marriage.


#13

Now this is something women never have to deal with: standing next to your boss in the toilet as he pees is one of the world's most awkward situations. What are you supposed to do? Leave him alone or give him company and entertain him? Is it okay to talk to him while he is doing his business or not?


#14

Not because they are better people. But because their country is rich and ours is poor. That is the only damn reason.


#15

... 'life gets to you. You think you are perfectly happy - you know. good salary, nice friends, life is a party - but all of a sudden, in one little snap, everything can crack, like this stupid pane of the Xerox machine.'


#22

I am constantly amazed at the ability of women to calm down. All they need to do is talk, hug and cry out for ten minutes - and then they can face any of life's crap.


#24

Apart from blonde threesomes, I think hitting your boss is the ultimate male fantasy.


#26

How did women manage before mirrors were invented?


#27

'An air-conditioned sweatshop is still a sweatshop. In fact, it is worse, because nobody sees the sweat. Nobody sees your brain getting rammed,' ...


#28

We passed by several advertising hoardings showing all kinds of people: a couple all smiles because they had just bought a toothbrush ... a young graduate jumping with joy, clutching a credit card ... All the ads had one thing in common. Everyone looked incredibly happy.


#28

What is it about music that it makes you remember things you prefer to forget.


#34

'Search. That is what we can do: Google will be our detective ...'


And one last one from the Acknowledgements

My one particular ex-boss. My life when I worked for him was living hell, and was probably the worst phase of my life. I used to wonder why this was happening to me. Now I know. Without that experience I would not have done this book. Thank you Mr Ex-boss for making me suffer. On the same note, I want to thank all the women who rejected me (too many to name here). Without them, I would not have known the pain of rejection.

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Saturday, December 10, 2005

Resurrection of the PC and Excerpts from a Phrasebook

Lonely Planet Hindi and Urdu Phrasebook
The PC had seemingly conked off, the only sign of life it showed was through incessant long beeps. After some speculation we (my roomie and me) interpreted it as an indication of undetected RAM. But multiple reinserting of the RAM bought forth no results. The beeps continued. Frustrated, we gave up. I screwed the cover back and feared for the cost. Then suddenly, without any intervention on our part, the blessed thing sprung back to life. Thank whosoever. But now I forgot what I wanted to write about. Anyway, I'll save that for a later date (in case I recall).

I usually enjoy reading travel guides, especially about the places I know relatively well. It provides a different perspective of the places we reside in. This is a sequel to that. Lonely Planet's Hindi and Urdu Phrasebook (another Daryaganj acquisition. Rs. 10 only) has some little gems. Sample these:

MOVIES

India produces more films than any other country, which suggests watching movies is a popular pastime. A successful film is also described as 'very powerful' while an unpopular film is often described as 'putrid and rotten.'

a successful and very powerful film
bahut zabardast
dhasu pikchar


an unpopular, 'putrid and rotten film
sari gali film

DID YOU KNOW ...

Particularly miserly people are sometimes referred to as:

kanjus makkhi chus

which literally means 'miser, fly sucker!' This means that a person is so miserly that if a fly were to fall into their tea, they would suck the tea from it before tossing it away!

SACRED COWS

The term 'sacred cow' (an institution, idea, person unreasonably held to be above questioning and criticism) comes from the respect cows receive by Hindus in India. It is not uncommon to see them meandering aimlessly through busy intersections and city streets. However, shopkeepers are not adverse to giving them a sharp whack if they take advantage of their elevated status and audaciously try to consume produce without paying for it.

WALLAH

The extremely useful adjectival suffix -vala is freely used in Hindi and Urdu and has come into English as 'wallah,' In fact there is hardly any word that may not be followed by -vala. It can be roughly translated as 'one who does...' or 'the one which is...'


So bloggers are simply blogwallahs.

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