It still makes me ponder how a drab sad story where the protagonist is a loser catches filmmakers’ fancy. Still, Anurag Kashyap’s effort is laudable, as it is a fresh and original take on the characters and the story.

Rooted in the real and the contemporary, Kashyap’s film stars Abhay Deol as Dev, an aimless  drifter who returns home to Punjab after a graduation abroad, but has little in terms of future plans, except for getting into the sack with his childhood friend Paro, with whom he’s spent many a long night talking dirty on the phone. On learning that she might have had a promiscuous past, Dev rejects Paro and her advances, driving her to marry a man she doesn’t love, and landing himself in a downward spiral of booze and drugs and whores.

Kashyap takes the basic structure of Sarat Chandra Chatterjee’s original story, but by setting it in the present, he updates much of the film’s narrative and makes the characters’ actions and motivations more relatable. So you get a back-story to the Chanda character, an embarrassed schoolgirl who becomes a prostitute after an MMS scandal. Dev hooks up with her in his desperate, despondent phase; and sex itself becomes the invisible but omnipresent motivation that drives many an important plot-point.

In its first forty odd minutes Dev D sucks you into its drama, shocking you with its brazenness, and more specifically with Kashyap’s audacious re-imagination of the plot and its characters. It’s the egos of Dev and Paro, and not solely the misunderstanding between the two that spell doom for their love. The film’s second half is indulgent and repetitive to the point of being excessive, as it focuses much of its attention on Chanda; and let down by a disappointing performance and stilted dialogue delivery by Koechlin, it never really regains the momentum or the sheer bravura of its early parts.

The film has some stellar performances. Whether casually rolling a joint first thing he wakes up or downing one shot after another in a dingy pub, Abhay brings charm and an underplayed angst to his young man gone astray. Mahie Gill does a courageous turn on Paro. Here again, credit goes to Anurag for taking a liberal approach to a woman’s sexual needs, but Mahie has balanced the lusty aspect of the girlfriend well with being a girl who’s emotionally vulnerable.

In the end, it’s one of the movies that you love or hate. It is an out and out Anurag Kashyap film, and the guy deserves some credit as it is really difficult to go out there, stick to your convictions and beliefs, and make a movie an out-of-the-ordinary movie. Let’s have an encore!

Poster source.

- Kaushik

First things first. What does the name of the film signify? I had grown up in Delhi and call it home, but to my shame I had no clue what Delhi 6 was till I was glibly educated by a friend from Chennai of all places. Delhi 6, he told me, is Chandni Chowk, or to be precise it is the postal code of that area. For those who are familiar with the city of Delhi, Chandni Chowk is evocative of several everlasting images: narrow, crowded streets, mosques, temples, ancient, dilapidated houses, small shops, pushcarts selling handicrafts, food, sweets, clothes and other colourful paraphernalia and crowds of people on foot, cycles and rickshaws swarming like shoals of fish in every direction. It is in this world that this film is based.

Roshan (Abhishek Bachchan) brings his grandmother (Waheeda Rehman) to Delhi all the way from the U.S. of A and gets involved in the mad, mad world that is Chandni Chowk. He is, of course, the typical NRI kid who is at once enamoured, amused and frustrated by the convolutions of life in his home town. He is surprised by the adulation he is given by people he doesn’t even remember, scoffs at the concept of arranged marriage, is enraged by the overwhelming influence of religion and superstition in the society and breaks into slightly lame hip-hop moves when his aunts are singing folk songs. The film is predictably about his tryst with the city and how he comes to terms with it and learns to accept and love it, flaws and all. But that is the only predictable thing about the film.

The story is… well… to put it mildly, strange, but not in a bad way. The movie can be neatly divided into two parts: the first part, which is Rakeysh Omprakash Mehra’s personal tribute to Chandni Chowk, and the second part, in which Mehra suddenly realises that he needs to tell a story as well. Nothing really happens in the first half. Chandni Chowk is presented in all its bustling, colourful glory in quick pictorial montages and breathtaking cinematography. Characters are introduced along with plot points and themes and it is all done rather cleverly. But the viewer is left wondering where the story is going and what all of it is leading to because the plot seems to lose itself just before the intermission. It’s as if the whole purpose of the first half is to lay the groundwork for the second half which is explosive in comparison. The story unfolds quickly and the viewer begins to understand the importance of some of the events in the first half and as things rapidly go pear-shaped the movie sets up for a dramatic and unexpected climax.

The actors have done a good job with Abhishek Bachchan, Waheeda Rehman and Sonam Kapoor putting in very competent performances, but the supporting actors steal the show in my humble opinion. Powerful performances by Atul Kulkarni, Om Puri, Pavan Malhotra, Divya Dutta and Vijay Raaz keep the film real and moving. But the characters take a backseat to the visual appeal of the film. Where Rang De Basanti had strong characters who just happened to be from Delhi, the characters in this film seem incidental to the city. The co-existence of Hindus and Muslims in Chandni Chowk is the most important aspect of the film. Hence, the film regularly breaks into a splendid colourful theatrical performance of Ram Lila on the one hand and has several magnificent shots of thousands of Muslims kneeling in prayer at the Jama Masjid. A.R. Rehman’s score for this film is also very good and in my opinion far superior to that of Slumdog Millionaire.

The film is a homage to Delhi and Chandni Chowk, but it isn’t a letter of recommendation. It shows the beauty and grandeur of the city and the hearts of the people that live in it, but it also shows the squalor, the corruption, the blindness and the sheer stupidity. It shows you that it is a city that must be loved and hated, and by that token makes it believable and more importantly human. If you love Delhi, you should watch this movie. For those you don’t love Delhi, this isn’t a must watch, but it is a good watch, and it just might persuade you to make a trip.

Photos courtesy: Official website.

- Yorick

The basic idea is simple yet terrifically ambitious. It grapples the questions of life, death, youth, beauty, innocence, aging, love and responsibility and it does so with stunning simplicity. Apart from all of that, the film explores the strength of relationships in the most dubious of circumstances, and so it begins, aptly in my opinion, with a dying mother and a grieving daughter. In her mother’s (Cate Blanchett) final moments, the daughter (Julia Ormond) wants to connect with her in a way that will be a fitting final farewell. Daisy, the mother, tells her daughter, Caroline, a story of a man named Gateau, who is blind and yet a master clockmaker. He is commissioned to make a clock to be hung in the New Orleans Railway Station. His son leaves to fight in the First World War and while Gateau is still working on the clock, he receives news of his son’s death. Overcome by grief, he finishes the clock, but designs it to run backwards. This initial story is seemingly irrelevant to the main plot, but it sets the tone of the film and lays down a simplified version of the various motifs contained in it.

Benjamin Button (Brad Pitt) is born, his mother dies in childbirth and his father, horrified by his son’s strange appearance, abandons him on the doorstep of an old age home. The baby is discovered by the caretaker Queenie (Taraji P. Henson), a black woman with a heart of gold, who adopts him as her own, even though he shows all the signs of old age and seems to be on the brink of death. Benjamin grows up surrounded by old people, people who are like him physically, but nearer to death. As he grows younger, he is often confronted with death and he learns to accept it as a sad truth that he must accept. The film follows his life and shows him mature as he travels and discovers new things and falls in love. Time is a tool that has been used in an expert fashion by David Fincher. The film is long by the standards of the usual Hollywood fare, but the story is carefully constructed and at no point will the viewer feel bored. It flows effortlessly through the ages, from the ‘20s to the Second World War to the Swingin’ Sixties and on to the present day, so effortlessly, in fact that one barely seems to notice.

The sets are fabulous, grand, intricate to the last detail and well in keeping with the period they represent. And, of course, the film is a marvellous showcase of the wonders of modern special effects and make up magic. The transformation of Brad Pitt from a shrivelled-up old youngster to a dapper middle aged gentleman to a youthful adolescent septuagenarian is unbelievably realistic. One would expect that it is easier to make someone look old rather than young, but take a look at Pitt in the final third of the movie and you will be forced to wonder whether the footage had been shot 10 years ago.

The characters have been portrayed beautifully in the film. The actors have done a good job. Brad Pitt’s performance is commendable, in the face of such a challenging role. Some might find him a bit, bland and lukewarm, but I felt that is what the character demanded; Benjamin isn’t emotional or sentimental, he is eager, innocent, honest and hungry to discover the world. Cate Blanchett is easily one of my favourite actors in the industry, and though this film may not be her shining moment, she definitely delivers a strong performance as the fiercely independent love interest of Benjamin. The film, of course is based on the short story of the same name by F. Scott Fitzgerald, but takes large departures from the rather playful jaunt that is the original. I have a sneaking suspicion that Blanchett’s character has been named Daisy after Jay Gatsby’s love interest in The Great Gatsby, which is a little unfair, because this Daisy is nothing like that one. Queenie is perhaps the third most important character in the film and Taraji P. Henson’s performance as Benjamin’s self-sacrificing, selfless, loving foster mother is perhaps the most endearing of all. The other characters have small parts and have been played very competently, but this is a film which is larger than the any of the characters.

What I liked most about this film is that it refuses to buy into the industry’s formulaic credo and sticks to the basic job of telling a simple story simply. It is stripped down and stark and devoid of any kind of gratuitous overindulgence and needless, soppy sentimentality.  I cannot overstate how much I appreciate this, given that this film is a potential goldmine for people who like to make melodramatic, mega-weepy tear-jerkers as well as those who insist on shoving an all-important moralistic message into your digestive tract from either side. Benjamin romances a married woman, young Daisy is flippantly bohemian and old Daisy cheats on her husband and all this is done unapologetically. And a film that could have easily milked the death card till the audience were blue in the face, is thankfully more focussed on life. Thank god, David Fincher took up the project.

Apart from being the personal journey of the main character through his life, this is an inspiring tale of self-discovery, maturing, learning and loving. It is a celebration of life, because it shows that life is worth living no matter how dire, strange or ‘curious’ the situation is. But now I sound like those errant message-shovers that I loathe! Messages aside then, this film is an epic tale which explores the dialectics of youth and aging and in a broader sense, life and death. But there is also another thesis-antithesis mechanism here, and that is the struggle between love and doing the right thing and the choices this creates. Ultimately, this is a love story placed in extraordinary circumstances. If a year ago, someone had told me that David Fincher, maker of films like Fight Club, Seven, Zodiac, The Game and Alien 3, was making an epic love story, I would have laughed in his/her face. Having seen this film, I’ll have my popcorn ready even if his next film is a 2-hour Teletubbies extravaganza.

Photo Courtesy: www.channel4.com

- YoricK

Hindustani classical vocalist Pandit Jasraj enthralled the audiences at the Poona Club on Wednesday (22nd Jan ’09) evening. The maestro accompanied by other musicians, notably vocalist Sanjeev Abhyankar, carried a rough throat through the wintery evening chill to give a stellar performance at a concert that was part of the on-going Times Pune Festival.

- KSN

- KSN

In the Newsroom

Early influences, values and your foray into journalism – give us an insight:

Ironically, I really was not influenced by other journalists when I drifted into journalism. My father was a cricketer, he played for India; my mother was a professor and I had a passion for current affairs for the longest time – I still remember Jimmy Carter winning in 1976 and I was an eleven-year old and I was following every state election. I guess I was crazy to do that, but there was this passion for current affairs and I think that that’s what took me towards journalism. It wasn’t as if there was someone there that I was looking up to and that I wanted to be like him or her. I haven’t really in that sense, idolised anyone in journalism per say. When it comes to values it’s been largely at home – my parents… I think it comes from within… my grandfather, with whom I spent a lot of time. He was a police officer. It’s just individuals in that scene located [close to me]. There’s no one ‘out there’, because I’d love to say that I’ve inculcated values from Mahatma Gandhi. But the fact is you can’t be Mahatma Gandhi. When people say that they’ve been inspired by Mandela or Gandhi, the fact is that these are remarkable men. You and I are mortals, I think, and therefore, it’s better to just try and be true to yourself and your conscience.

You studied abroad at a time when a degree from America or England was considered to be better than anything in India. Do you still think that stigma exists – that no college in India can compete with an education abroad, particularly when it comes to journalism, like the Asian College of Journalism (ACJ) or Symbiosis (SIMC) competing with Columbia or Berkeley or Oxford?

No, I think that that’s completely gone out of the window. I think increasingly, if you’re talented for example – I did law; I graduated in law from Oxford. [Today] I think graduates from the National School of Law (NLSIU, Bangalore) are as good as anyone would have thrown up from an Oxford or any other institution of the time. In journalism, today, if you come from ACJ, I think you’re as equipped as someone who’s come from a foreign university. Yes, foreign universities, perhaps, do provide a cutting edge when it comes to a holistic arts graduate degree and certain very high specialised areas like aeronautical engineering, possibly, or certain very, very specific areas. But, I think the number of quality educational institutes in this country has increased over the years, so there’s no reason to believe that you can’t be as competitive simply because you’ve got an Indian degree. I believe an Indian degree is as competitive as a degree that’s been acquired from England or America.

Coming to your life before television, you were a journalist with the Times of India in the early ‘90s.What was that like?

It was great fun. As I said, I drifted into journalism. I came back in ’88; I went to become a lawyer. I spent a few months in court, and maybe it was just too much work. I originally wanted to be a cricketer and realised that wasn’t good enough, so I quickly slipped away. Then I wanted to be a lawyer and realised that it was too much work so [I] slipped way. I drifted into journalism. I used to write a lot for an afternoon paper in Bombay called The Afternoon, run by Behram Contractor or Busy Bee, as he was known. I knew him through my family and he was kind enough to give me the afternoons [to work] and I just loved the idea of a newspaper. And to my mind, those years in the Times of India… the thrill of a newspaper or your by-line the next morning appearing in a newspaper – even a television channel can’t beat that! On a daily basis, there’s something about a by-line in print, which is terrific! I was fortunate that in Bombay, or Mumbai as it is now called, I had a great boss in Daryl Demonte, the Resident Editor, [who] encouraged me a lot, and Dilip Padgaonkar, our Editor, who encouraged me a lot and the fact that a lot happened in Bombay in those years. There were the blasts, there were riots and there were a couple of general elections – ’89, ’91.  I enjoyed it thoroughly.

What was it like coming to broadcast and working with India’s first English 24-hour channel?

I drifted into broadcasting, really. From the Times of India I had moved to Delhi and was The Telegraph as a roaming correspondent – great place to work because Aveek Sarkar, who was the Proprietor, gave you a license to travel across the country. And then I just happened to meet Prannoy Roy and he said that, he was planning to send up one programme, on Door Darshan. There was no question of a 24-hour news channel, anywhere. I knew him from The World This Week, and we looked up to him. So to get an opportunity to work on World This Week seemed like a dream come true.

But then you left NDTV and began CNN-IBN. How did this happen?

As I said, nothing was pre-planned. I had been in NDTV for about 11 years, and I felt that I had sort of exhausted all I could really do there at that particular moment and I was looking, maybe, for a fresh challenge. I had just turned 40. So I said…

Were you looking for growth?

No, it wasn’t even growth. And it wasn’t even as though I said, “I have to leave NDTV.” It just happened that Network 18 was looking to setup an English news channel; a colleague of mine at NDTV was looking with the idea of setting up a business enterprise – I could never have done this on my own. I could never have done this but for my colleague, Sameer Manchanda. I mean, he was the one who set it all up and I was just there to provide the editorial talent or experience I had over the years. So I just drifted into it because I saw it as a new challenge. I mean, I spent 11 years in NDTV, enjoyed every moment of it, [it’s a] great place to work, learnt a hell of a lot, owe a huge debt to Prannoy and Radhika Roy and I was a part of this television revolution. Frankly, as I said, in ’94 there was one programme called The World This Week and we then started one daily news programme on Door Darshan. Nobody in our wildest imagination could have thought that there would be a state where in India, today, you have seventy to eighty 24-hour news channels. So, it’s just [been] growth with the growth in television.

Though your life you interviewed many cricketers, politicians and film stars – these three typical stereotypes in our country. Of these three stereotypes, who is your favourite and why do you think so?

See, I am a bad interviewer of sportsmen and cricketers in particular, because if there’s anyone I idolise it would be them because I realise it is how difficult it is to play the sport. So I never ask them tough questions. Politicians [are] much easier and there have been great memories of that, such as interviewing Mandela at an airport in South Africa in ’91 when apartheid was still there and he had just started his post-apartheid South Africa; interviewing Lalu Yadav in ’95 after he won a famous election and we did [the interview] in a cowshed at midnight; interviewing Advani during the Rath Yatra when he was clearly energised, and much more of course in print; interviewing Musharraf, interviewing Vajpayee…

So, it’s politicians who you prefer…

Yes, I’ve enjoyed it and particularly the tougher the politicians – Narendra Modi, on the night of his Gujarat election victory in 2002 or Bal Thackeray, the day before he was to be arrested. These are the type of combative politicians you want to interview because you can ask them tough questions and you are more prepared for them. With cricketers and with film stars… film stars I don’t know what to ask (laughs). With cricketers, at least I know that I can ask them admiringly about the game. But I can never ask Sachin Tendulkar, “Why did you bat so badly?” I mean, I’m not going to ask him that or, “Why were you such a poor captain?” I find it tough to ask him that.

As an Editor now, do you like journalists who take orders and just do their job well or [those] who are more out-going and challenging and take initiatives and risks to get scoops?

Absolutely. I think there’s no question [about it]. A journalist, a good journalist is someone who is passionate and is able to take that extra step to get that little bit extra. Everybody gets the news, particularly in this age of 24/7 channels. There’s nothing ‘exclusive’ left. So, it’s become all the more difficult to get a scoop or to get a good story or to take the initiative to do something extra special. Those are always special people.

So you would back your people to certain risks?

Oh, absolutely. I believe that this is a profession that is all about opportunity – you could be twenty one [years old], you could be forty; you could be in the profession [for] fifteen years or you could be in the profession [for] six months. It just depends on the opportunity and your drive to grab those opportunities.

Your show The Big Fight was extremely popular and path-breaking in the Indian broadcast media. Would you say that those were your best days in front of the camera?

I don’t know. I drifted into that show because we wanted to do some election show [for] the ’98 elections so we said: why not do this on the lines of a US Presidential Debate? And because it was successful it stayed on. I enjoyed lots of episodes of Big Fight, I enjoyed doing Big Fight, but my best journalism was, I still believe, was when I was outside the studio – when I actually went in the field.

So, it’s been reportage…

I think reportage drives me much more than studio [journalism]. It’s just that I’ve drifted into it. So you do what, sometimes, circumstances allow you to. I’d still love to give up…

Do you miss reporting?

Oh, I miss it. I miss it a hell of a lot! But, I think, you have to realise that at some stage that if you want to take a leadership role, in any field of life, part of it is giving up things. I can’t now compete with my young reporters and say I want to do the story. I can’t. Nobody should be competing with the young. If have something [to cover] occasionally, I go out. I still would like to go out more often, but not in a way to compete with anyone. The last thing I want to do is compete with any of my team members. In fact, I would like them to go out. While I miss the reporting, I enjoy the idea of seeing a young person reporting well today. It’s great!

What do you think of the competition in your industry today and broadcast in general?

It’s crazy. The irony or the paradox is that while the number of channels has increased, the quality has decreased.

Do you think that it’s going to improve? And in terms of journalistic content, who do you really think is the leader in the industry today?

Ah, that’s a tough one. I’d love to think that I’m the leader [but], well, I’ve always believed that you don’t compete with anyone else. You see, in this room there are no English news channels [on the screens], because I don’t consciously want to see what other English news channels are doing. You compete with yourself to be as good as you can be.

Rupert Murdoch has expressed his interest in coming to India and he’s already here, but not in such a big way, yet. Assuming that he’s going to be able to hold a majority or controlling stake in an Indian media company in about one or two years from now, how do you see this impacting your channels and the broadcast media in general?

See, I’m happy to have Rupert Murdoch or anybody coming here, but let it be a level playing field. The problem is if you (the government) put restrictions on me and put a cap of 26% foreign investment (FDI) in my company but Murdoch can come in through the back door with far greater access to funds, then, it’s not a level playing field. I need the same resources that he does, then I’m ready to compete with anyone.

You think Indian journalism has come off age now to take on anyone from abroad?

Yes, I think so. In any country, journalism, ultimately, is only as good as your [ability to] adjust to the local conditions. It’s a bit like Kentucky Fried Chicken having to adjust to local conditions and that’s in the food business. But in journalism, a quality paper will have to do quality journalism in India. You can’t simply bring The Times (London) or The New York Times to India. You’ve got to adapt it to Indian conditions. When it comes to resources and industry resources – if Murdoch is going to get all the access to resources that I don’t have, then it’s not a level playing field. Give me the opportunity through law to have [access to] the same resources that he would have.

Print v. Broadcast v. The Web: Who is going to command the maximum attention over the next five years of the reader, viewer and media consumer?

That’s a tough one. Everybody said that when television came in that newspapers would end. In India, newspapers are only growing – numbers are growing, their revenues are growing. When few television channels became many television channels people said that the industry would go bust. As it has turned out, the advertising pie has only increased. Now that the Web has come and has had a second life, in a sense, people are saying that the Web will take over from television. I don’t think so. I think each will complement the others. Over the next five years the moral will be the survival of the fittest. If you run a quality newspaper or a quality a channel or a quality website, that will survive. If you believe in taking shortcuts, you will not survive. If you have a bouquet of channels, a network which is strong, you will survive. If you are imaginative and innovative with your newspapers you will survive. If you can find niche products in the Web you will survive. I think it’s much more about the survival of the fittest and the strongest and the quality-conscious, now.

That’s very interesting because this is what Paul Harris has to say in The Observer in London in September ’08. He says, “In future, media wars will not be fought between newspapers, and perhaps not even between newspaper websites. They will be fought between internet brands, blogs, online video sharers, news aggregators, gossip sites and things as yet undreamt of. They will not be fought in one city nor one country, but across the globe. They will not be fought with the buying of a newspaper, but with the click of a mouse, or a button on an iPhone, or a text.”

Sure, but I think that this is much more true of the Western world at the moment, which is far more integrated in terms of technology and where most households have access to computers and to websites. I think India will get there; at least a part of India will get there. I don’t think the entire country will, since we live in multiple India. My son for example, is hooked on to websites and I can see that his generation will see the Web as their first source of information. And so those who say that blogs will become big… Possibly. But I think they will all survive, I don’t think that the emergence of the Internet means the end of the newspaper or the end of television. I don’t think anyone dies out that easily. My own experience of reading a newspaper is very different from mine watching a programme. I mean, I can’t live without a newspaper; (but) I can live without the 9 o’ clock news. There must be someone else there who probably doesn’t need the newspaper but needs the 9 o’ clock news, or my son who doesn’t need either but wants the website. So I think that all three [media are important], because we cut across generations – it’s a large country, a large market. I go to small towns and I see everybody with a newspaper early in the morning – things are different.

You write for many newspapers as well as for a very popular blog that you maintain. Media watchers say that you are now more articulate in your columns and in your blog that on TV. Is this true? What do you feel?

(Laughs) Frankly, I think that is partly because my first love is writing. I get more involved when I write an article because I feel that an article has a certain longevity. So I spend a little more time on the writing than I do on television broadcasts. I think there are people who are made for television and there are people who are not made for television. I actually believe that I’m not made for television. But I’ve learned to adjust to the medium. I enjoy it, [but] I’d like to believe my passion is not for television or print – it’s for journalism. Nothing excites me more than a good story – whether that story is on television or the Web or print is secondary.

Would you like to change anything?

(Sighs) Would I like to change anything? The only thing I’d like to change is that wish I were talented enough to play cricket, in which case I would not have had to do any of this. I could have retired. But that apart, no, I wouldn’t change anything – I’ve been lucky. I’ve been extremely, extremely lucky that I’ve been at the right place at the right time. There have been far more talented people who have come into journalism, particularly in the era before me, but who never had the same opportunities.

Any message or advice that you would like to give upcoming journalists and students?

The only message that I give to a lot of people who come into television is, “Don’t come into this if you want to become famous. Come into it if you’re passionate about current affairs, come into it if you want to learn about journalism, come into it if you’re really into the news process – that’s what makes you a good journalist.”

Interview and photos by KSN.

On 31st December 2008, five friends set off to celebrate the year’s end some place else. En route, a Tata Sumo allegedly forced the ill-fated car to swerve dangerously and caused a front tyre to burst resulting in a disastrous accident on that infamous stretch of road – the Bombay-Pune Expressway. The two survivors, also from the same institution, are now recovering from injuries and a traumatic experience. They live on thanks to their seat belts (they were seated in front), whereas the deceased were reportedly thrown out of the vehicle in the course of the accident.

Varun Nobbay’s funeral at the St. Patrick’s Church in Bangalore (his hometown) saw hundreds of people pouring in to offer their condolences and final goodbyes and caused a traffic jam on all the roads adjoining the church premises. Such was the immense popularity of this 19-year-old. 

All three – Maitreyi, Tarush and Varun – will be deeply missed by their families, friends and well-wishers. The Chronicle offers its heart felt condolences to all those affected.

Raju and his men got really vilolent this October, certainly more violent than they have ever gotten in the past. They’ve been doing these things  for the last two years atleast. But that’s not the point.

Let’s attemp to see through the smoke on this one. Like any upcoming politician, Raju is hungry for power and by espousing this ‘migrant’ issue he’s stepped over the line in a populist dive for the votes. He’s got an eye on the upcoming Lok Sabha elections. Although the MNS is doing some good work in other avenues – they’re supposed to have a relatively progressive environmental policy and they are the first political party in the state to start documenting information about Maharashtra and her people as well as training their party workers and politicians through the Maharashtra Navnirman Akademi.

The truth is this: Marathi people have an aversion to UP and espescially Bihari young men. This is not new. It’s prevailed in Pune for the last five years if not more. My eyes and ears have borne testimony.

This whole issue is not about jobs at any level. It’s never been about jobs. Marathis, by their own admission are not very competent labourers and have hence started hiring better labour from other states. For years now, construction and road labour in Pune has been brought in from North Karnataka, Telanga and Rayalaseema.

The only reason Raju and his men are shouting about local jobs going the way of migrants is because they need a tangible issue to create a ruckus about. You can’t make a fuss about outsiders coming in and diluting your culture with theirs, can you? Actually, you could, but nobody would really care. Therefore, ‘JOBS!’

Now, why is there a prevailing sense of hatred/dislike towards UP-wallahs, Biharis and other North indians? Is there a reason for this mindset? I am friends with many UP-Bihari and other North Indian chaps residing in Pune. I know that all UP-Bihari youth are not bad. In fact many of them are really nice people. But the hard truth is that they have a reputuation that preceeds them solely because of the actions of their predecessors and fellow statesmen. I’ve seen gangs of Bihari youth fighting with Bastiwallahs and similar incidents.

Many of my North Indian friends have been declined a place to stay because they’re from Allahabad, Patna, Ranchi, etc. Think about why landlords have been making life difficult for the UP-Bihari student/working bachelors. It can’t be without reason (previous experiences). Or can it? Typical Brahminical Puneri thinking doesn’t like the ‘brash and crude’ behavioural tendencies of the UP-Bihari youth. As a friend recently put it, it’s the ‘Prabhat Roadian mindset‘. He was referring to the liberal elite in the city who are very wary of UP-Bihari youth and hold unreasonable biases against them.

Here’s some more truth: Outsiders (Northies, Southies, Easties – nearly everyone) don’t like the Maharashtrians too much for some reason. Some even hate them. They hate their language and they call them Gh**tis.

Raju needed a target. He picked the UP-Biharis. And he did this for two reasons: firstly, the Northies were dwindling in their the local popularity; and secondly, many of them were poor and easy to target.

One of my Lucknow friends once said to me (in Hindi), “Why should I make any effort to get to know the local Marathi people? What have I got to do with them? And why the hell should I learn Marathi? I don’t even like the sound of it!” The feeling is mutual and has been that way for sometime now. North Indians who come into Maharashtra, don’t give the local people too much of a chance. The local is ipso facto an imbecile.

The situation is now volatile because the Northies have stopped understanding the Marathis and their culture, and vice versa. Its also due to issues like the Marathi language becoming secondary to the language of the North: Hindi. Marathis like their neighbours in Karnataka have become insecure with the feeling that Marathi is losing out to Hindi. This is true in many ways. For instance, a student who came to study in Pune 25-30 years ago would arguably have learnt more Marathi than a student who has come to Pune today since Hindi is more widely spoken now. The influcence of Bollywood coupled with the notion that Hindi is superior to Marathi clouded the thoughts of many Maharashtrian minds.

It’s an Us v. Them.

The Northies don’t like the Marathis and now the Marathis don’t like the Northies. Raju and his boys are using the occassion to gain some political milage. He’s now a Marathi icon and inside every Maharashtrian there is a small, if not large, connection (read smypathy) with Raju and his politics.

Why there is hatred along regional/cultural lines is a big question indeed. But its not something that is new to India and her people. Right from demands of Dravida Nadu to a separate Assam to the Khalisthan movement, we’ve had bloodshed due to divisions in our society before. It happens whenever we stop adjusting with each other or when we cease to understand and accept people the way they are – with their language, their culture, their food and their music.

It is like what happened with the Hindus and Muslims at the time of Partition. The Hindus didn’t like the Muslims, the Muslims didn’t like the Hindus, there was the demand for a  separate state and over a million people died. What a sad story. Let us hope that the Northies and the Marathis start understanding each other, respecting their opposite cultures and making up soon. Perhaps the recent surge of proactive citizens and national unity in the light of the Mumbai attacks will help change things and India can go back to being a secular, free country without any nationalist and regional chauvinism.

God bless our peoples and our country.

- KSN