It's time- Gangs of Wasseypur

  If life was 'American Beauty' everything would flash past my eyes right now.  Only I am not dying.  I have been awake twenty hours and worked happily through those. But sleep eludes me.  It's 4.08am on the 22nd of June, 2012.    A very reliable and intellectual friend of mine suggested that I write a blog before the big day, "because life is going to change in a major way."  For the last many weeks, this film has been the only thing on my mind. Before that, it was always on the back of my mind. Every single day,in one way or another, it presented itself to me.  And since August 2010, it's been somewhere in the container of my body. Always. In a few hours the first show will happen. In less than 24 hours, it will be lauded ,dismissed or tolerated. I just got back from a screening and I think that in all likelihood the first option seems the most plausible. And I am not being optimistic,just observant. What if it's not enough? Not everyone loves everything? What if it's not understood? What if.....? What if? What if? This is endless. Scenes from the recent past emerge. The anxious first day of the shoot,the Hotel-Motel-less town of Obra,Sardar Khan,breakdown scenes,Nagma,tiff with colleague,reel-love,Ok international Hotel in Varanasi, Varanasi,Varanasi,Varanasi,Ganga,Filr cafe,cow,prosthetics,crowd,pack up,tears,Mumbai,the wait,Luv Shuv..., casting,banners, Cannes premiere, Croisette, Maggie Lee, promotions, small town,big town,flash lights, live interviews, newspapers, clothes,flights, Anurag Kashyap. Anurag Kashyap :-) I wish I could project straight from my brain on to the screen what is flashing past my eyes.  My mother patiently dropping me to Kathak classes, my first play, brother, attention seeking behaviour at a knee-high age, Father, mimicking teachers to hone skills,the Shivalik world of Delhi shoots,sweeping the Prithvi theatre stage, Barry John, Saurab Sachdeva and watching a houseful screening at PVR Juhu, 11pm. You don't have to be dead to watch your life in rewind mode. If you are nervous, it does anyway. Goodnight. Good morning maybe? It's 440 am already. The Gods must be waking up for the day. Time to say a little prayer and disappear.  Like an Olympic runner works four years for an 11 second 100 meter race, the fact the a new future is hours away dawns on me. We're Olympic runners.  It's time. And I think it's on our side.

In the air with Anurag and Manoj

Indigo Flight 6E 185, Lucknow-Delhi-Mumbai It seems bizarre to visit a new city for the first time for a mere five hours, and spend six hours reaching it. This is the first city promotion tour of my life. i am unslept, caffeinated and excited and so is the man on the aisle seat ( Anurag Kashyap). The middle seat is occupied by a man whose reel life persona in Gangs Of Wasseypur now looks like a great deal of work, considering he calls himself a 'sissy flyer'.  Flight mein Sardar Khan asardar nahi hote! Manoj Bajpayee makes for interesting,nervous and jovial company.   (We are flying non-business, and we dont mind as we do often fly coach happily, as this gets us to Mumbai at a decent hour and we need to fly to Nagpur tomorrow) There is a proverb and a popular Hindi film song that declares - "jungal mien mor naacha kisne dekha? "  With the maddening distractions available on TV in the form of trailers,cricket or the daily soap, an alert and intelligent promo campaign is indispensable. We feel the need for it, and so Mr Kashyap is working with all his might despite a debilitating throat and ear infection. I am not sure he minds that his phone will remain off in air. All day I have heard him answer the same questions in telephonic interviews or talk to his E.P about random people threatening to sue the film. Fatigue wins. He falls asleep as soon as he sits. the captain announces that there might be turbulence and our sweet sissy Sardar khan feels his eyelids grow heavier!  We're doing city tours i.e. visiting select cities and meeting the media and the aam aadmi. Inherent in this kind of strategy is the assumption that people to people contact will help spread the word about our epic film. The assumption is right.  :-)  After a press conference in a plush restaurant in a mall and a ritual visit to the Dainak Jagran office, we headed to the airport.  All through the day people thronged the venues, asking questions, repeating Manoj's famous dialogues. "Karara  jawab milega"' a young man yelled arbitrarily on spotting him.    Flights irritate him. "it's so long , I feel like we're headed back from London"' says Manoj. The day is ending, we shall reunite tomorrow for another city and another mini adventure. A sea of curious, enthusiastic strangers who will soon seem familiar await us in the morrow.  Mumbai shines beneath. Anurag plays scrabble.Manoj looks out of the window trying to spot his home in Lokhandwala. "Ma'am kindly switch off electronic device as we will land now"

The Artist

It was my last day at Cannes and I had an afternoon flight back to Mumbai. I spent my time walking around and catching up with friends from Cairo and L.A.  I took a cab from the Carlton Hotel, at the Croisette, for the airport. throughout the way the cabbie chatted me up in faltering English.  probably in his mid seventies, he was genial and had a flush on his cheeks that could only come from tomatoes or happiness, at that age.  "That building looks like a ship", I exclaimed when I saw one designed like a deck, over looking the sea. "No, it's quite expensive!" I explained that I meant ship and not cheap. He laughed for twenty seconds. We Indians seem to care a lot more for the official language that is necessary because of the inferiority complex we  associate with our own culture. this Frenchman didnt care. It  was because of the cabbies contagious laughter thatI forgave him and his GPRS easily. (I almost missed my flight because he had mistakenly taken me to the Villenieve Loubet village instead of a town by the same name.  Just as we entered the airport premises he told me, "miss you have pretty eyes, and long lashes, also you eat more for a skinny  person, and I think you come for festival", "oh, thank you sir, and how did you guess?" I don't concur with the skinny remark. Then he replied in a manner almost shy. "I think, may be you are an artist". People always ask me upfront of I am an actor or a model. But this was the first time anyone called me an artist. (No, this doesn't include the Mumbai cine-artist association type slang) I was touched. There was respect in his eyes. I reached out to my ticket and wanted to tear it. I experienced a sudden cheap-thrill at the idea that I CONSIDERED the idea of wanting to tear it.  Just the previous week, some ex-bureaucratic octogenarian type secretaries of my housing society in Mumbai had expressed displeasure over residents that worked in the film industry. This was indeed another world, an evolved one, where people with a creative bent of mind were not pariahs or a nuisance. I don't mean to generalise, but it can be tiresome to try and explain your species to the world. Here I was, in a foreign country, with a .man who didn't understand my language, but understood me perfectly.  "Yes, I am an artist", said I.  He smiled suddenly and have me a Toblerone.  :-) PS- My trip was also successful, because I saw another artist! Jean dujardin  crossed my car and winked at the Croisette, in front of the Grey Goose party. Salt and pepper hair, generous smile and a black tuxedo. That you won an Oscar is secondary. You held the audience in a silent film...! Respect.