Movies consist of actors who, although it doesn’t happen too much recently in Bollywood, ACT. But in the new Agneepath, it has happened. The actors steal the show. Hrithik Roshan takes on the role of Amitabh’s Vijay Deenanath Chauhan, while Sanjay Dutt plays the villainous Kancha. I’m quite a fan of Hrithik’s versatility as an actor but I was really sceptical about him being in this film. I mean, who could POSSIBLY replace Amitabh Bachan? Sure, that bit of ‘Amitabh oomph’ was still lacking in the new Vijay Chauhan, which I mostly attribute to Hrithik not having Amitabh’s low growl of a voice. And, of course, the epic dialogue of Amitabh’s self-introduction as “Poora naam: Vijay Deenanath Chauhan” just couldn’t be re-done despite Hrithik’s best efforts. Nonetheless, I’ve got to admit, the new Vijay Chauhan is SENSATIONAL. And I don’t say this lightly at all. There was not a single scene or instance within a scene in which Hrithik over-acted, as most of today’s actors often do. I have literally been left speechless.

I’ve also been left scared out of my wits and close to losing control of my bladder multiple times. This is due to Sanjay’s chilling portrayal of Kancha. Now, Kancha is a sadistic drug lord who’ll do just about anything to take control of Mumbai. Sounds like a simple enough antagonistic role which has been portrayed many times over in various action movies, right? But Sanjay Dutt OWNED it! His appearance gave me the creeps. He’s got no eyebrows, and a plethora of tattoos around his shoulder and his back. He’s also bald in the film and the fact that he’s worked out and bulked up certainly added to the menace of his character. Sanjay baba has still got it, without a doubt, and although all these alterations to his appearance certainly helped, I don’t think there was any other actor who could have pulled off this role as well as he has. Needless to say, I was thoroughly freaked out and rooting for the other side every time Kancha showed up on screen.

One point which I can’t resist making about this movie is that everyone is SERIOUSLY fit in it. And I don’t mean fit in the Pakistani slang ‘fit hai, yaar’ sense, I mean fit in the way it refers to physical fitness. The climactic last scene in which Vijay Chauhan at last avenges his father’s unfair death by killing Kancha blew my mind not only because it kept me on the edge of my seat, but because Hrithik was finally shirtless in it. One look at his crazy triceps and clearly cut abs (8-pack!) had me forgetting the plot of the past 2.5 hours instantly and entirely. Here, I’ve also got to mention Katrina Kaif’s item song ‘Chikni Chameli’. Yes, yes, how can she not look irresistible in her kohl-lined eyes and her gyrating hips, but as I watched the song I couldn’t help but notice what a fantastic ab workout her dance sequence makes. Ridiculous, I know, but these details are just as important as those regarding cinematography and direction which, by the way, were outstanding. Karan Johar, you have managed to surprise me at last.

I won’t mention Priyanka Chopra’s character here because, really, there is nothing to mention. She seemed more like a filler in the movie to use as a vehicle for an unnecessary song-and-dance sequence, and to add some vibrancy with the color of her outfits in the otherwise dark and somber atmosphere of the movie. If you want to watch the movie for her, don’t.

‘Agneepath’ has been a cult classic since it first came out in 1990. It’s sad though that so many of my friends have never watched it and look perplexed when I look at them in shock for not having seen some of Amitabh’s best work. A great advantage of the re-make can hopefully rectify this. For all those people who didn’t grow up watching old Bollywood like I did, this is a movie to get them back on its wagon, this is the ‘Agneepath’ of the new millennium.

For those who loved the original, give the new one a chance like I did. You won’t be disappointed. At the very least, you certainly won’t be bored.

P.s: Don’t watch the movie if you’re faint of heart, there’s lots of stabbing and shooting and killing and dying
P.p.s: watch the trailer here

A cardiac arrest claimed his life of just 30 years, it happened in minutes. By the time we got there, he had begun turning cold already, with the multiple shock treatments doing nothing to revive his tall, broad body. I can remember that day, its brutal shock, its wicked reality check, within a blink. It doesn’t feel so far away. Yet, it’s been a year.

A lot has happened in this one year, and through it all, grief has been my constant companion. I’ve been successful in new endeavors, received opportunities for growth, tested my will and strength every day; it’s been more than just a roller coaster ride. At least on those, you know the ride will stop eventually. But with this, you’re in it for life, with no clue when you’ll be ‘better’, if ever. Nonetheless, I’ve gained some incredibly valuable insights from the experience; because of them, I can actually say my brother’s death has made me a better person.

1) FAMILY COMES FIRST
No matter how much I age, my parents will always worry about me. My father will always wonder if I’m eating properly or short on cash, and my mother won’t ever stop thinking if I’m free from harm’s way. My sister will always be my greatest guide, and my bhabhi will rarely ever say no to me. Ayana will love me and miss me no matter how long it is that I go away for. I knew these things before, but I’m more aware of them now. I’m more conscious and because of that, I’ll think more than just twice before doing anything stupid.
Before, I’d take risks and do silly things without any thought to how it may affect my family. I always put ME first. But now, I’ve begun to put them first. This is how it should have been all along. We go our whole lives oblivious to the pain we cause our parents, whether it’s by a major rebellion or just by using a certain tone of voice while speaking to them. It took a harsh wake-up call for me to realize that, and change, but that shouldn’t be the case for everyone. Our family is smaller now, more compact now that one of its main members is gone, but we’ve become closer too, stronger, pillars of support for each other. For that, I am grateful.

2) LITTLE THINGS DON’T MATTER
After seeing dead family, stuff like heartbreak and bad hair days cease to matter. Things I had thought were significant suddenly became stupid, and I saw those things for what they really are. I wouldn’t wish the loss of a family member upon anyone, but I do wish that everyone would realize this: Little issues are just that, LITTLE.
A boyfriend showing you attitude – you have someone who cares about you, suck it up or break up.
You’re ‘depressed’ sporadically for no reason- the only people allowed to do this are those clinically diagnosed with Depression, or those who are dying, or those who have witnessed death. Being annoyed at the weather doesn’t count in this category.
You have a bad day just because – see a family member being buried and then talk to me about your bad day
Your temper flares unexpectedly- people die suddenly, don’t get mad and do/say something you might regret if you do too
You whine about food and your family – the two things are what sustain your existence, be grateful you still have them.
You’re ‘sick’ of life – you’re ALIVE. Do you know how many people would like to trade you in for people they have lost? Shut up.
These are just a few examples of the things that DON’T bother me any more. It’s like an imperturbable shield has formed around me, and it prevents bullshit from getting to me. Not only do little issues no longer get me down, I also can’t sympathize with people who moan about them constantly. I’m glad that my best friend has realized this, even she’s changed in small ways regarding this which is phenomenal. As for everyone else, I would never wish them to go through what I have to come to this realization, but I do really wanna kick their faces in sometimes, shake them, and scream at them to wake up.

3) BEING ALIVE IS IMPORTANT
I’m not saying I wake up every single day with a sense of ‘carpe diem’ raging through my blood, but I do have a greater respect for life. We don’t get multiple chances to be alive, just one, and people waste it so willingly and happily. I no longer understand that. My brother died at 30, he had family, friends, a foreign passport with many stamps in it, and a passion for music. But he wanted to do so much more. That’s the thought which crosses my mind every time I think of settling for less. It’s no longer an option. I want to juice out everything I can from this existence of mine, and if that requires me to push myself to greater limits than I ever thought, so be it. At the same time, I want to enjoy life more. I don’t want to stay serious and sad, I want to laugh ALL THE TIME, and eat the things I crave when I crave them, rather than only on ‘cheat’ days. I want to take care of myself better, so I can live longer. There’s no guarantee that I will, but at least I’ll know I’m doing everything I can. I wish everyone could do the same. People have asked me how I’ve lost weight or why I’m so obsessed with exercise, it’s because I actually care about myself, it’s because I don’t wanna die of ill-health and leave my loved ones struggling to come to terms with it.

4) PRIORITIES EXIST
If I could do anything I wanted, I’d travel for a year after graduation, and enroll in a high-flying MFA. But I can’t. And normally, I’d be resentful about this, but I’ve learned not to be. I have priorities that come first, I have to be with my family after not being with them for 4 years. In one year, I’ve watched my parents age 10 years, I’ve to be there to provide some sort of comfort for them. I have to stick around to watch Ayana grow up to be a smarty pants, and her mother become more independent and confident. But it’s not just that I have to, I actually want to.
I also don’t want to waste time playing games. If I know what I want, I will aim for it, without any hesitation and confusion. I can no longer be one of those people who say ‘Screw it, I’ll do it later’. There might not even be a later. I want to make my present count. That doesn’t mean I won’t sleep more than I should or miss appointments, it just means there will always be a bigger picture to keep in mind. Isn’t that what we should all be thinking about anyways? My faith is stronger now, it doesn’t mean I pray 5 times a day, but I don’t just ask God for help when only I need it. I realize He’s there, because He has to be, otherwise death would be futile. A death means something to me, thus that which caused it has a meaning too.

I know that these words won’t change the world. It’s not my intention to radicalize anyways. I hate that I no longer have a big brother who’s gonna boss me around, or tell on me. But now that he’s gone, I know what I’ve been missing in my life. I only want people to be aware of what they have in their lives, and be grateful for it. I don’t like that he’s dead, but I’m glad he lived.

I miss him more than I can bear, but this is a longing that won’t ever disappear. In this one year, I’ve become used to it. And that’s what happens, you don’t get over things, you simply get used to them. Tragedy has happened to me sooner than I expected, but in a inexplicable way, I’m glad for it, because it’s made me more determined about the rest of my life. My brother did not get to live out his to its full potential, but he did the big things, achieved the main landmarks: good job, good wife, a kid, a nice car, vacations abroad, a comfortable life. I’ll always be happy he had those things to soothe him when he made the passage to Heaven. I only wish the rest of us do too. His death may seem senseless, but at least, it has not been futile. It’s impact has changed me for the better.

Don’t get me wrong, I love her, and if this is what she’s passionate about and happy to spend her life doing, then who am I to raise any objections? But the thing is, this girl’s got a talent. I can’t call it a skill because a skill is something that can be acquired by almost anyone, given some time and hard work. She’s a photographer, and what she can do with a lens, it’s not just a skill, its a gift. Now, the only experience I have with photographers is them telling me to “Smile, please!” or “Turn, please, miss” at weddings, but I’ve come to realise it really IS a form of art.

Wajiha Khuwaja is in her element behind the camera. It’s a position I’ve been seeing her in since freshman year. She shepherds us all together for poses and group shots, captures all the good moments and those we wish we didn’t remember the next day. She’s also responsible for pretty much all our profile pictures on Facebook. And, sure, we pull her leg for it ALL THE TIME, but in the span of just a few years, the difference in her work is stark. It stares at you in the face and you can’t help but be amazed.

'Melancholy' by Wajiha Khuwaja

A budding photographer with ambitions to work in the field beyond teh scope of university life, she’s spent months saving up to buy her dream camera, and then even more endlessly and painstakingly teaching herself how to work with it, as well as software that allows her to play around with pictures till she achieves the desired impact. And all the effort is worth it. The impact is powerful, with a strong message. Her black and white pictures evoke memories, the coloured shots speak of a vibrancy you thought was lost from the world. And each and every single shot actually looks like it’s been pored over, thought about, and tweaked with for days.

'Beauty in the Detail' by Wajiha Khuwaja

There’s a quote by Flannery O’Connor, it describes the purpose of fantasy fiction. “So real, it is fantastic. So fantastic, it is real.” These words, more than anything, truly capture the essence of what her work conveys. Whatever she may choose to pursue as a career, be it law or anything else, I hope she sticks with photography and continues to get better at it, and never, ever gives it up, because that would surely be a great shame.

To take a look at her portfolio, click here
p.s: don’t forget to comment and gush over the immense potential of this girl and her camera.

There is a phenomenal composition by the poet Fayyaz Hashmi that I’ve adored for much of my 20-something years of existence. I first heard it as an adolescent teen, unaware of the profundity of the words, unable to register their true magnificence. I’ve gone back to it over the years, and the verses roll over me like a soothing mist of cool air on an exceptionally hot and sticky day. The poem I am talking about is the beloved “Aaj Jaane Ki Zidd Na Karo.”

Many have heard it, but most are unaware of the man who actually composed it. Calcutta-born Fayyaz Hashmi was privy to the aesthetics of life from an early age, his father, a writer, worked in theatre in India. Hashmi, who wrote his first ghazal at 13, relocated to Lahore and can be credited for being one of the greatest names in the Indo-Pak enetertainment industry. Picturised on the Pakistani actor Nadeem, and sung by the exceptional Farida Khanum, “Aaj Jaane Ki Zidd Na Karo” is more than just a composition, since its first release, it has become an institution for all those nursing heartaches and headaches both. Several covers of the song now exist, with one by Asha Bhonsle that’s quite popular. I personally prefer the Khanum version, but recently stumbled across one produced by TheShrutiBox, an initiative of fusion music composed and directed by American clarinetist Shankar Tucker.

A composition like this screams out to be shared with all. Why should it simply be restricted and reserved for those who can understand the language? Here is my modest and rather simplistic English translation of the classic words of Fayyaz Hashmi:

Today, do not insist on walking away
Today, do not insist on walking away
As you are, sit by my side
Just the way you are, sit by me
Today, do not insist on walking away

Today, do not insist on walking away
As you are, sit by my side
Just the way you are, sit by me
Today, do not insist on walking away

P.s: “Aaj jaane ki zidd na karo” would literally translate into ‘Today, don’t be so stubborn about leaving’ but I took the liberty of using the verb ‘insist’ to denote the stubbornness instead. In general, many of the Urdu words in the peom are idiosyncratic, and it’s difficult to find a fitting English substitute for them. Nonetheless, I did what sounded pure to me.

P.p.s: Here is the link to Shankar Tucker’s soulful remake and cover of Hashmi’s words –

I have never been much into politics, both Pakistani and foreign. Maybe living abroad had that effect on me but I’ve been grateful for it, I never understood the frenzy that came with being passionate about politics. After living in Pakistan the past few years, I realised it didn’t have much of a point. The same few people ruled, interchanging parties and forming coalitions, making futile promises, usurping resources for their own good, lining personal pockets with public money, ignoring pleas of the many to satisfy greed of the few. It’s like a never-ending cycle, and no matter who’s at the top, the masses at the bottom are always unhappy and disenfranchised.

Then I went to a political rally. I am not sure why I wanted to go, it was just such a novel thing for me, and who doesn’t like to think that they may be a part of something? I went hesitantly, just to see what it was all about, not really caring about how inspiring it could be. I went with friends, bobbing our heads to The Beatles in the car, hearts fluttering as we reached closer and closer to the venue. Imran Khan wouldn’t speak before 6ish, but even at 2 or 3 pm the place was jam-packed, and we all thought that would be it, that it couldn’t possibly fill up any more, that there was no way even more people would show up. But they did. The crowd stretched till way beyond the periphery of the park, and all those who thought only a few thousand would show up were in for a sleepless night.

I finally know what it means when someone says he has an “electrifying presence.” Even without Imran Khan at the podium, the crowd went berserk just seeing him seated at the table on stage, and every time the host would announce that we are getting closer and closer to his speech, it was as if everyone in the crowd had found out they won a lottery. There were, of course, a couple of unnecessary stunts, like Shehzad Roy’s and Strings’ performances. In retrospect, though, I can see that they were important because it’s not just the educated elite he was targeting now, it was everyone, it was ‘the masses.’ And they like to be entertained. Nothing builds up patriotic fervour like songs and cricket, and Imran Khan has both going for him.

The Minar, and the sea of green and red

When he started to speak, all was forgotten. The hours of delay, the traffic, the unruly crowd, and the ache in our legs; none of it mattered when his voice boomed across us all. He made jokes, insulted Zardari and the Sharifs, used cricket metaphors, and made sweeping promises. It made him even more endearing, and that was the point. As happy as I was to be a witness to such an event, my cynical self couldn’t stop wondering how this was any different from when the now-old parties held the exact same rallies and had the same amount of zealous supporters. At the end of the day, they couldn’t deliver so what guarantee is there that Imran Khan will?

There is no guarantee, of course. His appeal lies in his novelty. He’s different from the usual despots. Nawaz Sharif never misses an opportunity of how the nuclear bomb in Pakistan was developed during his tenure; how many times has Imran Khan boasted about his cancer hospital or university in his own speeches? He didn’t do it yesterday, and he doesn’t even have to. He’s an alternative to the current desperados, and most people think he can’t be much worse because what we have now has got to be the absolute worst it would possibly be. He made promises like the rest of them had done in the past: he said Pakistan will never be inferior to another superpower or beg for anyone’s help. But then later, he said we will become closer to China, ask them for help so that we can grow. This seemed problematic for me. In the start, even the US was friendly and helpful to Pakistan, just as China could be now. China is a force unto its own now, its an economic superpower and it is a lot closer to Pakistan in geographical terms than the US – all this unsettled me a little. But he continued on, speaking of eradicating terrorism, and transforming our situation so that we can actually be PROUD of our passport. That struck a nerve, I always hide my Pakistani passport at airports because, truthfully, I am ashamed and would much rather thrust out my Canadian one. If I can hold out my green passport in pride, Imran Khan has my vote.

But then there’s the question of his reach. Sure all us Luminites love him, as do all the kitty-party aunties, but what about the chai-wallahs, rickshaw wallas, sweepers, janitors, maids, drivers? What about the rural population? I think what amazed me most about the rally was the diversity in the people present, it wasn’t just the educated elite or just the patriotic youth. There were really old people there, wrinkled and white-haired, who made peace signs as if remembering protests of the past, happy and relieved to know it hasn’t all gone away from Pakistan. There were really poor people there, groups of young workers in uniforms and women and children in rags whom rather than looking disgruntled, were smiling and cheering, equal to the rest of us. There were Punjabis, Balochis, Pathans. So maybe Imran Khan’s reach isn’t as limited as it used to be. Yes, there are many miles to go before you can see the shore, and many more hurdles to cross, but perhaps…perhaps there is hope. And perhaps this hope is not strong enough to passionately cry out “Meri jaan, teri jaan, Imran Khan, Imran Khan!” but at least it’s united us in angrily, loudly, desperately shouting “Go, Zardari, Go!”

Note: this, by no means, is a commentary on the political situation of Pakistan. It is merely a memoir of my experience at the rally and all the things I thought about it.

]]>