Stone Addiction

It was a long 13-years wait, next only to the 4-years for Mangal Panday. But thanks to the Censor Board I could not get a single glimpse. Sharon Stone famously said if people still want to pay to watch her naked she doesnt mind shedding her clothes. I was one of those who payed a hundred bucks. But our moral torchbearers, after taking satiating glimpses themselves, decided not to share the same.

As for the movie, it did hurt my mail ego. But only a bit. I would have been extremely hurt if Sharon Stone wasnt part of it. For her, I forgive.

Like the prequel, Ms Stone "indulges in mind fucking". But ends up raping the character of Dr. Michael Glass. David Morrissey is hopeless and pathetic. He is every girlfriend's dream and most wives' nightmare. He had the maximum screentime but surrounded by a plethora of women, David Morrissey just disintegrated. He looked most emotive when on the wheelchair, looking blank. The poor man's Liam Neeson was just no match for the original sex symbol. Even Ms. Rai would look more emotive and in control playing Catherine Tramell.

But who would blame him. His ex-wife was portrayed by the ravishingly nubile Indira Verma. Sad Ms. Stone did not allow her to unclothe. But since I have had a look at her so I didnt mind. Then David Morrissey had to share screen space with the classy and aged Charlotte Rampling. But what was she doing in this movie? The British legend was like brilliant mature wine. There was also the Mexican-looking hump-back Flora Montgomery. The perfect one-night-stander, she did hump and pump well in her small part which was mostly on the bed. She was adequate and the only woman in whose presence David Morrissey looked in control.

And there was the inflammable Sharon Stone. Her voice has got sexier. She still scorches us with her posturing. Her wrinkles are pushing hard. The paint around her eyes trying best to keep up with the times. She looked more twigly but she still doesnt wear underwear. And she looks always hungry, ever wanting. With Michael Douglas out of the way, she is in full control. And 13 years could not make a dent on her dimensions.

But once my local DVD guy obliges with an unadulterated print, I would have a seperate post on that I promise. The moral torch bearer wouldnt stand between us.

But most must be wondering why so much on a movie which obviously is B-Grade? Well I owe this one to Ms. Stone. I was just out of school when BI 1 released. Sex was an individual act till then. And then she arrived and took control. From then on sex finally became two-dimensional. Sharon Stone shaped my adult malehood and guided my testosterones. The Angelina Jolies and the Demi Moores will come and go but she is an original.

As long as Ms. Stone decides to shed her clothes I will keep paying to watch her.

June in Kodai

Some snaps from June's recent trip to Kodai.

Celebration Time

If you can stay in the right side of the power center you can celebrate till life.

Things that have said when Dada was kept out

• We need young blood
• Past achievement cannot guarantee a place in the side
• One must prove his worth in domestic cricket
• He needs to concentrate on his batting
• The team is winning but we should give the young boys a chance and plug few holes
• Technical weakness against the short pitched stuff is being exposed
  

Things that are being said while retaining Mohammad Kaif & Virendra Sehwag

• Class is permanent and form is temporary
• Exceptional talent people with very good past records needs to be treated carefully
• Its just mental thing and the lean patch will soon be over

For Kaif it is more exceptional scenario. Never in recent history has someone been given such a long rope in Indian cricket. Last time I saw Vikram Rathore getting that. If anybody would argue that Kaif is exceptional bat I will cut of his tongue (so that he doesnt speak any nonsense any further), pierce his ear drums & retinas (so that he may never hear or see any cricket). Kaif is a brilliant fielder with exceptional temperament. There are many more bats like him in India. Remmember Badani. So what is cause of giving him a long rope. India is not the place for non playing captains. Thats why they booted out Dada.. right? And anyways Brearley looked a fool on the field.

As for Sehwag - he deserves a longer rope because he is an exceptional bat. But one dangerous trend in India has been to promote your best players as captain. Remember the nightmare stint of Sachin. And he had that oxymoron Bedi as his support staff. Sehwag never looks a captain. He is rustic, an individual and solo act. Sehwag as captain is prepostorous.

Another pertinent point when Dravid harps on the young boys thing. Dravid himself is just a year away from Dada. But anyways he is being touted as the young captain of an young India team. The Kaifs, the Sehwags, the Yuvrajs are no longer the young boys of Dada. They are there for 5 - 6 year or even more. They are the men who should provide the steel to the side. What is the point in mollycoddling them?

Reflecting Back

The latest interview of Sehwag forced me to put this post up. He says Sourav episode is history. The most recent attempt to obliterate the achievements of a time which Sehwag was very much a part of.

The above duo found Dada an easy pawn in their game against Dalmiya. For them each of the other actors are all pawns. The moment their utility will be over the door will be shown. Just a public push is all that is needed to make the holy look unholy. And in India it happens overnight. We have the Bobilli Vijays, the Ayaz Memons, The Prem Panickers, the R. Mohans & the Lokendra Prataps to turn the tide, almost overnight.

I pity Rahul - the best Indian test batsman of all time and one-time best friend of Dada. A very good human being Rahul does not deserve to be in this company. Of late my sympathies are diminishing. Every moment he tries to obliterate the past and focus on "young" and balding boys. And when he does it throws up the picture of a man without whom some of these boys would have been languishing in the Ranjis.

If Dada's two greatest achievements are to be discussed it is his ability to see the Aussies eye-to-eye and his mentoring of the young and unsure guys.

And the least said about the egotist the better. We like white skin. A dubious sportsman Greg brought everything unclean about the Australian spirit. In the BCCI mandarin he has found an even more dubious company. In Kiran More an able chimpanzee who will talk his language everytime he opens in mouth.













This is my favourite - Mr. More found cavorting with a taller woman. He stopped growing in Class VII. No I am not talking about his height. I was mentioning his mental aptitude. The sooner he goes the better. He is a disgrace to our Indianess. He can contact Mr. Modi. He can do someting for his fellow Gujrati.

As for Sehwag. He is setting a dangerous precedant. He should remmember that the logic given for booting out Dada was his lack of batting form. Never was Dada's captaincy questioned. Giving interviews is easier that scoring of the blade. And the later doesnt guarantee a place in the side.

As for Dada. Forget cricket. By the time the wheel turns full circle he would have lost interest in the game. Its unfortunate but true that Dada could not captain a side with the Dhonis and the Pathans. I am too tempted to see that Indian side take Australia in the World Cup final.

Lifeless Bernard & Living August

Many lifeless objects become part and parcel of our life. Our car, the TV, a favourite dress, the good pen and many more. For us these cease to be inanimate. When they are gone, we feel hollow. June had August. But August is missing from yesterday. Another lifeless object was responsible for the dissappearence. His name Bernard.

Back from work, I had an early dinner. June was getting a change. The morning had been bad. June's curiosity got the better of her. She spilt piping hot tea on herself. She calls it "Ta" but she would now stay away from it, alteast for while. Post the incidence, the ensuing chaos to find a scapegoat had shocked her even more. It was one chaotic morning.

The night in contrast was calm and cool, the "Tars" and the "Mun" were up there again. I was relaxing on the terrace. A terrace which we share with our neighbours. They live in a single room house. 3 adults and 2 grown up kids pack themselves in. An asbestos sheet covers their top. At most of times when the sun is down, they spill out of the house.

However Mashi was troubled. The previous day June's extreme care had dirtied August from head to toe. So Mashi had given him a nice wash and hung him like a scarecrow on the terrace to dry. But August was missing and so was another teddy named Mary.

I went up to our neighbours. No one was there except a lady who was deaf and dumb. She was trying to say something that I could'nt fathom. I went for a walk, upset. Sometime later when I went up with my landlord I found a man squatting on the floor, completely drunk. It was Mashi who deciphered the lady's speechless code. This man, who claimed to be a cousin brother of my neighbour, had stolen August. He sold him off for bottle of arrack. I was speechless.

My landlord tried his best to make him understand. They were speaking in Tamil and I felt even more speechless. I was as dumb as the other lady. Each of his words were accompanied by a gust of pungent stench. An hour down the line we were nowhere. He refused to admit and tell us where he had taken August.

Unfortunately the rest of the family was'nt there. How do I retrieve the situation I asked? I was already starting to miss August and June was yet to know. So I took over. I found that he understood English. I sat there for the long haul. I used all forms of techniques - threats, sympathy, kind words even the promise of another bottle if he took me where August was. But he held on, blank and hollow.

It was past 10. Mun had just arrived from office and threatened to take things in her own hands. I still tried to reason out. I probed him about himself. At the back of mind I was itching to know his story. He had 3 kids who stayed with their mother. All three fairly grown up and they refuse to recognise him on road. He meanders and sleeps on the terrace of this cousin brother. I could see some of his belongings scattered here and there.

He said his name was Bernard and he he made a living out of cleaning computers. What living I asked myself again? And then I realised he was not living. He was dead, lifeless, inanimate. My search for August was over.

After the family came, there was only tamasha. Everybody pitched in. Threats of police station. A brother hitting a brother. The deaf and dumb lady contradicting herself. A hostile Mun and mashi. And an amused landlord's son. In between a local Christian community leader, the Godfather to the family, pitched in with his brand of threats. But his agenda was different. He came to make an impression.

It was midnight and I lost interest by now. My landlord ensured the lifeless object be thrown out. That was duly done. But as he walked down the empty road a host of emotions overpowered me. I thought of the umpteen Bernards that stroll the roads every night. Each become dead every night only to spring to life in the morn. Living beings converted into lifeless objects. Objects that their near ones refuse to own anymore.

At that point in time I missed August even more. Its a world of lifeless Bernards and living Augusts. June would be a little more lonelier from now. But somewhere someone would be more happy today.