Two gates

Redbull presents

“TWO GATES”

When Bunty gained his consciousness the picture in front of him wasn’t much different. People were still laughing at him, though the people around him this time were strangers and the atmosphere was a lot divine that the last time. There was a guy with big thin glasses and a big feather pen. Then there was a really old guy with three faces and he was laughing out loud by all three mouths he got. Then there were two security personal type men holding some kind of useless ancient weapons in hand. And they all were wearing golden crowns and lots of jewelry and rich clothes. They seem to be from rich family or maybe some eventually rich robbers. There was a huge desk with an enormous book on it. Behind that there were two huge gates, one golden and other metal.

Bunty is feeling a lot lighter now. With almost no effort he sat on the soft carpet. He was still confused and very agitated, everybody was laughing at him. His annoyance almost tasted its limits. He stood up, he was still confused about the location, “ok, shut up now!” he yelled, “Where am I, is it some kind of hospital?” As an answer to his question the laughter even increased. After one more wave of laughter the man with the big specs said, “You are dead, this is the infamous ‘two gates’ of heaven and hell” “What?” Bunty exclaimed, “Why? I mean just like that? Are you mad? Who are you people?” The three faced man spoke, “You don’t know me?”, his voice was sounding very tired and experienced, and also a little ill, “I am the Brahma, The Brahma” due to speaking through three mouths his voice was resounding in the environment. “The creator of this srishti, and he, he is Chandrgupt, my clerk, he writes everyone’s destiny and keeps the account of everyone’s paap and punya”

“Ok” Bunty said, “You look a lot weird and scary than your depiction in our TV serials, The actors look at least looks a lot calm and trustworthy, though they act very quirky in that jewelry. Alright forget that, tell me why am I dead? They say you keep account of deeds of our human and then decide whom to die or for that matter whom to kill from here, eh?”

“Yeah, you are right”, Chandragupt said handing Bunty a piece of sweet, “Take this, the best sweet in all the three worlds, best in the whole universe” “What for?” Bunty asked. “Well, I am giving this treat” Chandragupt said giving The Brahma a piece of sweet. “Ho…ho…ho…”Laughed the Brahma in appreciation, “have it son, he has won a contest organized in the hell and heaven” ‘Brahma laugh like Santa’ Bunty thought. “well which contest” “as the result of which contest you came here”, explained Chandragupt, “We were getting a little bored keeping the regular account, You humans are too judgmental and very predictable, for past few years apart from the newly created disease you people weren’t dying by any new reasons. The regular diseases, accidents and old age, still you can’t find answers to some diseases like AIDS, we were expecting you humans will find answer to these diseases very early, by the way AIDS was also a winner of similar contest.” Bunty was getting more and more confused and this Chandragupt guy was getting on his nerves. “So to overcome this boredom”, Chandragupt continued, “his highness Mr. the Brahma organized this contest, ‘the funniest death’, everybody participated from these two worlds in it. You have to take into account the background of the particular subject and then prove that such death can occur to that subject, and mind you it has to be funny. I won the contest and you are my prize!” Chandragupt concluded with pride.

Bunty was furious hearing this. “What? You killed me just for fun, just to laugh on my death?” he screamed “I am just a ‘subject’ for you people? The funniest death, eh. You assholes, scoundrels, and you are ruling us…you can’t imagine how much do I hate you?” “Whoa! Watch your language son”, The Brahma snapped back, “but you know I’m in a humorous mood now, and technically using foul language can’t harm you now. Because after death, after your spirit has left your body on Earth till you enter one of these gates, the deeds you have done will not be counted in any of the books!” “Shut up you three faced moron” Bunty was furious, “don’t teach me what to do and not. And you Chandragupt, I’m your prize, eh? Bloody rascal, you are fortunate that, I don’t know much of foul words.” The Brahma and Chandragupta look at each other confusingly, and start laughing at Bunty’s this demonstration of fury. Hearing all these noise people from heaven and hell also gather at the gates. Bunty is looking at all these dead souls, and reaches the desk of Chandragupt, “So this is your famous book of accounts, eh” Bunty clings his palm on the edge of the desk, he remembers Chandragupt’s explanation of his death, and “You think you are funny, eh? You think you deserve this job?” saying this he grabs the desk and throws it in the air. The desk goes up at height even Bunty haven’t expected, and comes down. Bunty is amazed at the demonstration of his powers, “How?” he asks The Brahma unknowingly. “Well”, The Brahma starts to explain, “As I told you your deed in this buffer period is not counted, similarly you are not abiding by any physical rules in this period. You are what you think you are. You can do anything in this period. Actually I shouldn’t tell you this in this mental condition, but you know, by default we can not tell lies!”

Now, Bunty has a wicked smile on his face. Chandragupt realizes what going on his mind; he is good at his job. Bunty moves towards the fallen desk to test his powers again. He grabs the table in one hand and whirls it up in the air, it goes up and up. “You want fun, eh? You got it!” he picks up the huge book of accounts, Chandragupt runs to save his work, Bunty turns and kicks Chandragupt in stomach, he flies and crashes on the compound of hell. The people of hell gets delighted, they started cheering Bunty up. Bunty tears the book apart. He picks up the pen and moves towards the Brahma. He sprays the ink on the Brahma’s all three faces. “You want fun Brahma boy, eh?” he grabs his feet and whirls him in the direction of hell, Brahma crosses the compound wall in air and lands in the hell where the hell boys were waiting for him, and you don’t want to know what happened next. Bunty then uses the pen on Chandragupt at the oddest of place. Then he moves towards the heaven doors. The two security guards were not much of the tension. Surprisingly the heaven was also cheering him up, they were too straight people they just want to save their skins and they have earned all their punyas by worshipping the powerful. He breaks the heaven gate, and then hell gates. Everybody was happy at his enormous powers.

Now he has two worlds and the book and pen of Chandragupt to decide the fate of the third world. He moves with his army towards the EARTH!!!

If you have read this story you are a winner in yourself!! Redbull brings you the divine competition. Now you can participate in “The Funniest Death” competition too. Now drink a can of Redbull that will give you wings, then attach those wings to your creativity and tell us ‘How did Bunty die?’ think of your version of “The Funniest Death” and send your entries to us.

Page 2

Disclaimer(!): there are references to living and fictious characters..but the story is still fictional..Don't mind!

First Page, First Graphic Novel/comic book

The sketching, screeching, leching and fetching begins! It's my first attempt in a comic book/graphic novel (I'm so amateur that i don't even know, what to call this!)

I am planning to publish one page daily, or 7 pages a week..let's see if I keep my words (for the first time!) This book will have many superheroes, many countrys, many villains, and lots of world politics, and ofcourse ALIENS!!
Let's see how it goes!
give me reviews about the style, and suggest me the name.

Nashik, I love you, I leave you!

On a day like any other day a shootout happened. But it was different. The location was unusual, the time was remarkable, and the death was of the usual suspect.

Last week on the bank of Godavari in Nashik, police killed a criminal. I don’t know whether the word ‘killed’ is right or not or it should be assassin, or may be terminated, whether it was a salvation or a regular encounter.

The name of the criminal was Vishwanath Katare. He was booked under many serious offenses like murder and extortion. Police said he was a freelancer; he was only killing for money. And the police are being lead in Nashik by Mr. Visnu Mishra.

Let’s go a bit more back on the timeline. Vishnu Mishra was the D.C.P. of Nashik. He was strict on criminals and arrested many criminals from every political party. And then something very usual in governance happened, he was transferred; or relieved from his duties to serve in Central Government service. Bu the citizens who ere happy by his way of working protested and the leaders, the home ministry had to bent in front of the protest. The transfer order was cancelled, he was back. And he was back in disciplining the town.

And one day police got a tip off that Katare is coming to tapovan for smoking weed. By the way Tapovan is a land where Lord Ram, Seeta and Laxman were supposed to have lived in their years of exile. Police set a trap and tried to arrest him, and as per the police story, he opened fire on Police and the Police had to kill him in self defense. And the news flashed on the news channels, Mr. Mishra is giving orders on the location of the shootout and other regular heroic stuff. Smoking indeed kills!

By the comeback of the D.C.P. the police force of Nashik was so charged and motivated that it sort of sought to terminate all the crimes from the town, so novella, and so hollywoodish. They were trying to regain the title of Sri Ram Bhoomi to the town, may be.

And now…

The police are so active, so proud, so efficient. Now they don’t let criminal roam free in the town, and they don’t let anyone roam free in the town. With the setting sun the police force arises. They patrol the streets, they patrol the bridges, the patrol hotels, and they patrol parks. The shops are down and closed by 10 pm. You don’t get cigarettes, you don’t get milk, you don’t get even maggi after that. It’s a sin to be hungry after 10pm. Last year health ministry formed rules that you cannot smoke in public places, that also means you can smoke at non-public places, and streets were defined as non-public. But hell, Nashik police reads from another rulebook. If you found smoking anywhere you are not even scolded or fined, you are taken into custody.

The government is calling meetings to make amendments in the code 377, and changing the definitions of ‘unnatural sex’, and might allow gay marriage under this amendment. But again Nashik Police reads from some vedic magical rulebook, which says chatting of a boy and a girl is as indescent as having sex in public! The sperms may get transmitted through the thin air. Well there is a exception to that rule, you have to be married to talk in public at night, if you are married, you have little irritating kids, you don’t have a ray of hope in your life, then hell yeah, you can seat and talk all night long.

Well, police is doing great job they say, citizen forums are giving public application to the police to rule their areas of living too. They are coming ant congratulating police with flowers.

I leave Nashik, I leave rules!

The rain, the city and the love

I was standing at my house’s window, and I saw a couple walking down the street. They didn’t know that I can see them, as this boy was trying to woo his girlfriend by saying, “There’s no one on the road, not ahead us and not behind…” The girl was just refusing bluntly. The boy is so desperate, he continues, “Just give me a kiss!”

It’s raining continuously since last 4-5 days; rain does create a romantic mahaul around! I uttered “sick!”

The city, that is Mumbai (am I being so stylish!?), was slowed down or stopped in parts. I am home for last two days, first day was my weekly-off, and yesterday was off because of rain. Have you ever walked in waist deep water with your clothes on? Well yesterday I tried that…trying to fit in the typical picture showing a bechaara Mumbaikar. In fact, an oily fat boy was recording me in his fat cell camera standing under his colourful fat umbrella, with a fat oily glee, fatass! Like, I’m a flood victim. I just wanted to have that experience on which the whole Mumbai has a veiled pride. The human always love to be in misery…the world is treating me bad, Misery. And Mumbaikars are more into this being miserable thing. They want to show their fighting spirit under the veil of misery.

I am in Mumbai for last 3 months (soon turning to FOUR!!), and I never liked Mumbai for even a moment. Yeah, I love to see the human society and their behaviours, but this city is so plastic, and ‘programmed’ to be alive. I mean at first look you may think that the city has great pace and people are so dedicated and alive and that joie de vivre thing and all…but once you start to live in the city I mean really into the city, with no other choice…the city comes out to be totally different than what it seems to be.

I always think that Mumbai lacks style, the kinda style Delhi has, Pune has. Mumbai lacks the personality, again Delhi, Pune, Nashik and every other town has. Mumbai just bunch of crowd. They don’t even have arrogance in style…Arrogance is the most stylish trait of mankind. They are just ignorant and frightened to give acknowledge to anything happening around. They are fearful of theft, murder, extortion, rape, robbery, epidemic, Tsunami, crash in Sensex and what all. They hardly care about the government’s last week position (the only fear of the re-elections. Although I don’t think most of them votes, or have an independent say.), they don’t care about the nuke deal (they are ready to comment on America, and Bihar with the same loud voice), thee don’t love thy neighbours. I have heard many communal and geographical remarks in the local trains. I used to think that Raj Thakre (or Thackeray?), have created this hatred towards biharis and bhaiyyas. But Raj Thakre has just given the voice to the hatred, now people blame openly to each other for the condition of Mumbai (like they care about Mumbai, huh!?). I mean this doesn’t lessen Raj’s sins.

I think this city is not a city, it’s just a crowd each one is pursuing his own dream of being a little better than today, most of them don’t even have big dreams. Well, there’s bollywood in the city, which gives a stencil of dreams to the youth. As far as I’m concerned, I’m a part of media industry, I too dream…of making movies, making all kinds of movies, making personal movies. Because of this dream, I don’t like my current job as an assistant producer in a TV channel that’s yet to be launched. I don’t participate in any creative meets, as I truly think any idea of our channel is not creative enough to be creative. Well, this view has an anti-view that, in such situation I actually have an opportunity to show my creativity, given that I have any creativity…well I’m miserable too! I wasn’t doing anything that may have been counted as creative…but yesterday I shot something and edited it too. It’s kinda music video of the Cranberries song Zombie…suitable for my current situation. Maybe I’m getting touched by creativity again…may be that’s why I’ve started to write too! Well then I may start to write my script too! Its rainin’ ideas and they are thrashing me out!

This rain has thrashed the city too. It has thrashed the roads, the public transport systems, the health, and most importantly the spirit…I mean c’mon just by a week’s rain you fear to come to standstill, then why you term this geographical area as a city. But still people are becoming romantic….the girl kissed his boyfriend or not I couldn’t see… (Not because I’m not a voyeur, but because they went away from the visual reach my window offers!)

The Masks- PART I

The Masks

He’s cursed and abandoned by his family; pressurized, almost ditched by his girlfriend. Why? ‘Coz he’s lazy, doesn’t have any ambitions, any dreams, they say…at least not as the dreams are supposed to be.

The sound of airplane and traffic is merged in the vast, a mechanised crowd. Everyone is chasing something, trying to breathe as hard as they can, and running fast. The crowd has workers, beggars, clerks, and hair-gelled young people with their ties on, in formal decent clothes. They are going for interviews. A sound of canned laughter follows them, and the source of the laugh is a TV set. Some sitcom is running on the TV.

Well, here enters our ‘he’. He is sitting in front of the TV with a straight face. His father yells, “You are wasting their time too”, his father is a typical old man like a typical old men are, and he is bald, has specs, has a deformed body and is big and loud-mouth. “Our neighbours were asking me ‘your son must have plans for the future, unless our son, he just found a normal job in a bank’, yeah…he has plans”, his father spanks him on head, “he has plans to sit and eat for the whole of his life on my money” well, that’s enough ‘coz old people won’t stop talking…

He is sleeping inside his room but his father just refuses to shut his mouth. He gets irritated; he gets up wears a shirt over his t-shirt, and goes out.

He is sitting with his girlfriend. But the girlfriend is yanking too…almost the same words…but she adds a threat to ditch him if he doesn’t do anything…he turns and says. But I’m doing something…” but the girl again starts off. This time she is talking numbers to prove that the situation of the country’s economy will get bad even further, so this is the right time to get a secured job. She has contacts and can fix-up an appointment or something. He stands up, and starts walking away. “Are you listening? Should I fix the appointment tomorrow? Dress-up nicely…” she also just refuses to shut up.

Again the TV is on, the blue white light is lighting up his face. The canned laughter again looks odd on his straight face. Well, someone is talking continuously…again!

In the morning he is walking on the road looking at the roadside shops. He stops at a bakery; creamy pastries are kept in the showcase. He is mind eating them, when a servant of the shops asks, almost yells, “What do you want?”, he looks at the servant angrily, but the anger and irritation on servant’s face is more, so he decides to retreat. The crowd is moving around him as fast as it can pushing him, squeezing him…they are going for interviews, and he?

His girlfriend yells in his ears, “move fast the appointment is at 12”

He stops in front of another shop, his girlfriend has been merged and moved in the crowd…he is looking astonishingly at the glass window…he tries to touch the items inside through the glass….he decides to go in. but he stops, checks his pockets, he has few coins in it, he grabs those coins tightly in the fist and moves inside. As he pushes the door of the shop the wind chime chimes.

He enters the shop and now more astonished than ever he looks around.

The shop has bright violet coloured wallpapers, with very Indian and oriental designs. It has dark mahogany settee, matching counter; it has some glass wall hangings that are reflecting colourful light. But these all things are not for sale, the product on sale are hanging on every wall available…they are Masks…

Many masks, of various sizes, shapes, colours; are showing different expression impressing various emotions. For example one is of warrior, a furious warrior; who is determined to take over the world. Other is of a very beautiful and innocent girl, but some secrets are hidden behind her hollow eyes. There are animals which are generally related to human and human traits. Like dog, donkey, wolf.

He is something more than astonished and lost, when he sees the only other real human face in that shop, it’s the shopkeeper, but obvious, as he is standing behind the counter. “What are you watching at?” the man behind the counter shrieks.

The man looks like is in his mid 70’s, he has hair on the sides and he is covering his top with a cap. He is thin, and his hands are like wood. He is wearing thin glasses. But his clothes are kinda colourful.

“its amazing!”, our boy says, “I haven’t seen anything like this before. Do you own this?” “its for sale and not for collection. What do you want?”, the old man is still suspicious. Our man says, “I liked this faces” The old man looks at our man from top to toe, he gets up from his chair to have a even closer look of him. He comes very close adjusting his glasses, “which mask would you like to try?” the old man asks, giving a specific stress on the word ‘masks’. Our man again looks around, “no, I would just like to see them. If I wear them than how can I see the masks, I think this masks faces can change everything, inside out!” Expressions on that old man’s face change slightly as he walks back to his chair followed by our man.

अर्धवट कविता...करीन पुरी कधीतरी!

मी नव्हतो आधी कोणी पण
मला व्हायच नव्हत कोणी ही
पण मला ओळख मिळालीच नाही.
ह्या सगळ्या अनोळखी जगात
माझा चेहरा पुसालच जात नाही
आणि मग तू, मी आणि आम्ही
पण मी खरच त्यातला नाही.
झेंडे, फुले आणि शस्त्र
मी होऊच शकत नाही विवस्त्र
तू कोण, कोठून, कोणाचा
पहिल नाव, शेवटचा नाव संगितल्याशिवाय सुटकच नाय

Colour me Blood

Today was a happy day in Bhausaheb's office. His supporters were gathered around a colourful tent built only for this day since the early morning. The courtyard is decorated by rangoli, a supposed to be devotional music were playing with the breaks for popular bollywood item numbers. Outside the tent a huge flex was erected wishing 'Bhau' many wishes, and with hell lot of pictures of their supporters. A small temporary cabin was packed with flowers and gifts, everything was trying to be organised, in its own disorganised manner. Yes it was Birthday of Bhausaheb or 'Bhau' as he is lovingly called.

Contradicting to the festive mood of the office two quite ambulances with four doctors were standing on the circumference of the crowed. Few supporters brought a huge weigh scale from a scrap yard, and they started decorating it with flowers. Another strange thing. These two strange things will be explained by a banner being put under 'Bhau's flex-It said: Blood donation camp and 'rakta-tula' on the occasion of Bhau's birthday.

These things still are quite ordinary or expectedly weird for anybody who doesn't know what happened to this town 6 days back...

What happened here was a remote reaction to something that didn’t happen to another town few thousand of kilometers away. On the last Monday suddenly a mob inspired by a will to change...at least modify the world according to their leaders thoughts attack an area of the town. Their leader wanted a monument of his leader to be erected at a disputed land. But law prevented him from doing so and arrested him. The mob attacked the colony of the people who were not personally but religiously different than their leader's leader...and incidentally the Police commissioner who gave the order of his arrest was also of their community. The violence lasted for two days...

But today the leader was out on a bail...and incidentally it was Bhau's birthday too. Bhau, though a supporter of that arrested-and-released leader, was not a bad man heart, at least that what he wanted to prove. So he arranged this 'rakta-tula'. He will donate the blood equal to his weight to the city hospital to treat the people who got injured in last week's violence.

Rakt-tula is inspired by suvarna-tula. A custom in Indian fairy (?) tales. Where a king used to weigh him by gold coins and ornament on his birthday or any auspicious day and then he used to donate those amount as a charity.

Here Bhau will weigh him by blood bottles, and frozen blood packets, and this he will donate that blood to the hospital. Well well...

Bhau arrived with his convoy. Everybody jumped to open and hold the door of the SUV for Bhau. After few speakers talked about Bhau and his achievements, his majesty Bhau also talked about the importance of blood donation and the necessity to erect the monument. After people ate the breakfast and sweets, the function which everybody was excited about started-The only rakt-tula or Rudheer-tula as Bhau called it.

Bhau sat in one pan of the weigh scale. He was wearing white kurta and white pants, a gold chain in neck and a golden watch. The supporters waiting for the function to start was reflecting in his black Ray Ban. Being a corporator is no easy job. You can't give time for your body, your food and drinks. After being the corporator Bhau also suffered from this ignorance-o-health mania. You can't really call him fat, but yes fats increased his girth quite a lot after being Corporator. He couldn't get time even for exercise. That was showing clearly when he tried to sit down in the pan. Well his supporters supported him.

Oh the doctor...yes the doctors were called...lazy bums only standing near the ambulance all this while. After few flashbulbs burnt and the official inauguration of the function, the function started.

The first packet of blood was ceremonially thrown in the other pan by Bhau’s wife Kokilabai. Then Bhau’s brother had his turn. After few others dignitaries, the donation was going to open for public. Everybody was talking about Bhau and his…well weight of course. Dada said, “you were unnecessary worrying about you weight…it is helping for a good cause now…hahaha” “Yes”, supported Nana “These doctors are getting helped because you didn’t listen to them about the weight-loss program” Everybody was bursting in to laughter and started teasing doctors. Everybody wanted to show they are happy with the responsibility…and they also want to please their leader.

Nana was putting a bottle of blood in the pan. The pan was already heaped; the bottle slipped of the heap and landed on the floor. Splash! Nana’s chappal and lower part of his white pants got soaked in red. Boom! Everybody suddenly got so quite after the noise. Nobody moved, said or ordered anything. The sweeper came to his senses first; he ran and grabbed a mop to clean the floor. Ohh suddenly everybody started giving orders to our fast thinker…wash this, wipe that. Nana looked at his trousers, “Doctor, will this cause me any disease…say AIDS?” and he loves his jokes, he thought this is hilarious and started laughing hysterically.

For a moment everybody though he’s gone mad…really got contracted by some weird disease. But no he gasped, breathed and again started laughing in his trademark tone.

Everybody also, meanwhile, started to get fascinated by the red floor. It was gripping visual. Blood clots were slowly getting diluted in the soap water. The colourful film of soap was slowly turning red. Fat women slipped off the soapy floor and bumped on the container of blood bottles. And again another blood bottle broke. The fat lady was sitting in a pool of blood, her hand was red. She tried to wipe her sweat and her face also got blood stained. She was looking horrible…a psycho-serial killer.

Yes and she started the series of murder, murder of the bottles. Now not only Nana but the whole crowd has gone crazy, everybody laughing hysterically on the lady’s red face. Hell, she was embarrassed. Pappu, 6 year son of Bhau, sneaked and reached the container. He took out a packet of blood and ripped it open, and started showering it on his playmates. He was Bhau’s son; after all, nobody can stop him.

Now everybody wanted to be a part of The Red Army. Everybody, almost, started playing with bottles, either explicitly or secretly. Somebody yelled, “Holi hai!!!”

Sure Bhau’s birthday was memorable. He is the leader. He got support. The monument has to erect there now

A LIGHT ON THE THIRTEENTH FLOOR

A light on the 13th floor
Somebody’s having a last fuck
Somebody’s getting ready to try luck
In the crowed to get squeezed & drenched
Alone is the word and multilayered clothes are the new trend
Getting dressed up and a cheek on a peck
They say it makes you successful, the heck

Footpaths are for riding
And pink sandals for dust biting
Find a patch on spit….and Street
Pig on the track…you shit

4:52 deserted first class when going up
And in downwards, a huge turn-up

We need and angel, or may be a goddess
To waive at you from the 13th terrace
Wings are broken or not grown up yet
Doesn’t matter if you are a beautiful saint

Can see it, right into it, through
When you fly up, up, up and threw
Gaze, glance or puke
Analyze that ‘coz you gotta put right bait on your hook

The light on the 13th floor goes off
Again to go on and off and on and off
The angel has flown away
To the 14th floor, to lay
She is the mother surrogate
Bitch, how do you wanna copulate?

Part 2...the sinner returns!

Part 2

planning to write about it for quite long time now...to be precise when slumdog millionaire got its nominations for Golden Globes (or GG as we affectionately call it- Danny Boyle uvaaach!)

Thats the time the Globe came to know about A.R Rahman....thats the time everybody wanted to listen to the slumdog track...and want to watch what a feerang has done to Mumbai and India...

I wanted to be a part of that yet to come mass-frenzy! Wanted to see Slumdog Millionaire...actually I came to know about SDM in a blog by Anurag Kashyap.

so...as the story unfolds we come to know that there is more to it than just rag to riches storyline-said SRK while presenting SDM at the Golden Globes (BTW he was called 'king of bollywood' there...what a moment!)

in my office ( I work for a bollywood music TV chanel) some sites (sexually explicit/adult/hobbies/time waste/criminal nature/kids time.....) are banned...and obviously Torrent sited were also banned under the act downloads....but...

here the story actually starts...

khhhrrrrrwwsssppppppppp

TIME A: few days ahead in the future- a library attendent in our office was asking me, “do u have 'chillamda milleni'?” my initial reaction was blank...


khkhhhhhhhhhhrspsspppppzzz

TIME B: few days back in the future!

one of my friend told me gave me sermon about using proxy server!
And whoa! A new age has started in my life....DOWNLOADS.....TORRENTS....


wwwwzzzxxxrrrrpppppppppp

NOW

so one night I was working late....hardly anybody was using their computer...coz very few people were working at that hour
so the speed of internet was become quite fast...and I downloaded the torrent for SDM...and put it on download...
next day I told proudely about my kartood to my colleague (she always used to ask me to download some weird mushy movies for her) and she was like WOW, why ddnt she think of it before...she asked for the movie and I gave it...!

dude I had made three mistakes of my life...in a span of just a few hours....i downloaded the movi..saw it and distributed the pirated copy!
Well my colleague was advance to me about bragging about her movie collection and soon everybody was craving for the slumdog...

zzrspppppppppppp

12 th Jan '09
A.R. Rahman was climbing up the stage to receive the Golden Globe for 'all the brilliant indians'



kkhhhhhhhhhhhhrrrrrkzzzp

TIME A (again):
I was blank..'chillamda....chillam...weed....bengali weed...chilumda... “whats that?”, I asked...he said, “the film everybody is watching...you have it right? Somebody has deleted all its copies from the LAN” (wasn't me, but I thanked that ITwalah...who has by the way blocke all the sites) I saw a mail in my inbox warning us all not to save any movies on the LAN!

“yeah I have it...it originated from me...heck!”...he just understood the part 'I have it' and ran to get a blank DVD...


vrrrrrrrrrraasssssssssssppppp

NOW

what went wrong? Before the Golden Globe literally everybody in my office and the office adjacent to us has seen the SDM....so the support for A.R. Rahman was bigger than it could have been had I chose not to download the movie...or had kept it to myself... but really everybody was rooting for Rehman...and everybody was happy...we are watching the Golden Globes footage that has came to our library again and again...

kkkkkkhhhhhhrrrppppppppp

TIME C: few days back on the timeline...after TIME B...just before TIME A

a promo for 'Slumdog Crorepati' arrived in our library- the hindi version of SDM...again it tortured me....what I have done...it is actually releasin in India...when I downloaded it, then I ddnt see any chance, movement of SDM releasing here...so I downloaded it.
The rest of my day went in misery


zzzzzzzzzzzzrrrrrrrrrkhpppp

NOW

where exactly piracy is wrong? Where exactly is the thin line between the regular outine and THE SIN?
Few people from my office are now going to watch SDM (hindi me) in theatres...many people came to know about SDM because of it, otherwise they would have ignored like some...some Mira Nair film!

I mean I want to make movis someday...big movies..
what if I have released my movie....and returning to my home town after the premier and see my movie on my journey back, in the video coach bus! I mean. Would I be elated that the movie is reaching to the wider audience...or will I be upset, coz my producer will not get enough returns and thus blurs my chance of a next movie? I dont know...as an ameture film maker...i want my film to reach to the wider audience...



khrsssssssaaaaaaaapppppppppppppppppp


THANK YOU

Slumdog million sinner

PART 1(!)

at last(?)
we indian came on the Globes...the golden globes...short, brown, confident, modest A.R. Rehman walked up the stage to accept the Golden Globe for his music score in Danny Boyle's 'Slumdog Millionaire'...the music was indeed (offcourse) very good. (at the same time he is giving us 'Yuvvraaj' and 'Ghajini' :P)

THEN WHAT, WHERE IS THE SIN? WHO'S THE SINNER?
Well the sin is been performed by me...i'm the sinner...
...contd.