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. 

The Cannes series- The screening and the madness!!!!

22nd of June, 2012

8am-
still early . ought to sleep more... Five hours is too less.

830am-
call Mom. it's 12 noon in India, must be in a lecture. Why am I queasy. I didn't even drink at india pavilion party.







9am-
Breakfast in the hotel. Funny, I am in Cannes, no French toast , French fries, let alone French wine in breakfast buffet.Sigh! Vegetarian me.

10am-
Time to leave for for the hair and make up appointment with L'oreal. Tummy ache.

En route Cannes

 I write this post from the unlikeliest location. The ChatrapatiShivaji International airport's free WiFi and my Ipad have joined hands in warm namastey. I am on my way to Cannes. People who know me will vouch for the fact that I am a curious type. A glo-cal, gypsy, butterfly, excited at the mere thought of any out station travel, even to Lonavla. So needless to say, I am looking forward to France. But because I have two hours to kill, and a caffeinated brain, I choose to dissect my excitement.     When I finished the shoot of GOW, all the assistants received postcards from me. Silly nostalgic little reminisces of the past three months (give and take a few weeks).  Yes,  there is excitement about going to one of the biggest film festivals in the world. Yes, it is as much about the fashion as it is the films. Yes, I feel incredibly lucky about getting this opportunity in my very first film as lead.  But I have to confess, I am more curious about knowing what Ghaywan or Bala will wear than meeting Eva Longoria. Or any other such celebrity who is famous enough for the name to become a stereotype. In short, butterflies do somersaults in my stomach when I think of reuniting with the team, or well, at least some of it. The team is so crucial in any film. Sure everybody is a professional, but the  level  of comfort created by a set of good assistants on a film ensures that the comfort translates onto the actor's faces. The performances become natural, wings are not clipped and one feels emboldened enough to improvise. Again, this flows from the core. The  captain of the ship is the one that instils these values. (Anurag Kashyap  in this case).  Well, the best actors don't give two hoots about anything other than the role, but I have a long way to go. The 'social-economic context' affects me on a set. Not an ideal situation, but a human one nonetheless.  After the film wrapped I hosted a tiny luncheon in my house for the over-worked AD team., desperately trying to create more time to reminisce about. So, while I feel fabulously ready, (despite my one and a half functioning legs and the recent wheel-chaired past), my excitement multiplies manifold at the thought of meeting some of the people that contributed to my growth as an actor and a professional ! The screening of our creation....beside the Croisette couldn't hurt either!  Team, here I come, to stand among you in our moment of glory. PS- Siddharth Aryan I shall do you proud. Nishant Bangar we HAVE taken this to the next level.

Ms. Godda Chadda

On the sets of my latest film, with a heart full of enthusiasm, a body feeling the pleasant pains of the last day’s good workout, and a skin glowing from plentiful sleep, I was READY.

It was a day of minor stunts. I had to jump, chase,leap,lunge and run.  The team had made the required arrangements. I did a few jumps and felt like the queen of my castle. Soon, I felt a small sensation in my stomach.  The next jump, from where I stood, looked alright. The director jumped twice and the first AD hustled us on. Not his fault, that was his job. And then I jumped.

....The team was sitting under a blue tent in my eye-line. A tall palm tree stood behind them. The sky was blue and the ground was hard under the mattresses.  What I had felt three milliseconds before the jump is what can be described as ‘gut feeling’...

Black-out.

Money! Sex! Health!

Do you take the burden of the world upon you shoulders? Do you find it hard to say no? Do you think if you don’t help someone they will suffer, wither and die? Do random and often able-bodied beggars on the road make your eyes moist? Do you suffer from a good-person complex?

Read on. 

In loving memory of...

the living

 

 

Dear you

It felt good to throw the last bit of dust on your face, as you lay yourself down in your coffin and went to eternal sleep. I would even say it was fun watching you dig your own grave, slowly. If you were Snow-white, someone, some really kind soul, might have made the effort to come, dig and plant a life-saving kiss. But since all you did was live with pain and gift the same to everyone, we are all relieved that you are no more.

You are not yet dead, you scream. You sure? Did we bury you alive? Oh but you did that, didn’t you. 

 Actually, you died a long time ago. But among so many zombies, one might have mistaken the red-light shining on your cheek to have been a sign of life.

You died each time you lied, to yourself and someone else. And hurt another. And then, slow stabs kept propelling you towards the inevitable. Perhaps you want to end it all, start afresh, erase the karma. But why would you think, in the kingdom of the Lord, you would get preferential treatment? Because you go to the Church and don’t eat meat on Tuesdays? Cute.