Dilli and Kolkata’s lesser known secrets.. famously hidden

One of the bow barrack lanes.
One of the bow barrack lanes, Kolkata
Naughara lane
Naughara lane, Kinari Bazaar, Delhi

What does an old city have ( and by old I mean at least one millenium) that can’t be beaten by claims of ‘modern technology’ made by a new one? And I agree with anyone who thinks that new cities have no right to claim anything. Period. But even in the best case scenario, for those more biased towards city plans and modern architecture ( just to qualify previous sentence, Barcelona is pretty modern, but it is also pretty old!), for a person living a simple non- adventurous life, what indeed can an old city do?

You could have lived in one ( like I did) for two decades and still not even come close to have seen all the historic sites. You could even have missed events on the street you took for at least half of that time, because while the historic sites may have the temerity of being located far out, given the tendency of old cities to sort of be an amoebic splatter seen from space, what excuse is there to not know of something you passed right by and never took the right turn ( or the left turn, forgive my continuing hang up with the left- right).

This trip to India I was gratefully humbled to find many such gems from the two cities ( okay, one of them is really quite big and has state- like properties) that are so infused in me that I can neither love nor hate them with any reasonable certainty. Dilli, undoubtedly the place I belong to and can never fully or even partially denounce and Kolkata, that has sort of hustled its way in through marriage and managed to stay through its undeniable, albeit mossy, charm. Kolkata was previously Calcutta and many Calcuttans retain the usage, including my husband. Both these cities are at least two thousand years old, and probably  became inhabited in the B.C. era, Kolkata used to be the British capital of India before Dilli, both are politically active and centers of major mass- led movements, but on the surface, there is almost no similarity between the two cities. I also don’t think there is much in common at the core, but as you shall see, what do I know.

This is not a history of the two cities or comparing oranges to apples, this is for people who have close allegiance to these cities, and are about to be surprised. Or at least, about to hear about the surprises I received. Beginners are also welcome, if they can take it.

I will start with Kolkata. I was there for about 6 days this time, short enough time for most families and nearly criminal for a family already displeased with the daughter in law. I survived. Armed with a friend who  has gone back home to Kolkata for an undefined period of time. One of her innumerable talents is to make friends with interesting profiles, especially belonging to people that are far enough for her to avoid actually meeting them for years as she just zips past their Facebook profiles ( what else did you think I meant?).  One such friend of hers happens to be the owner and proprietor of Calcutta photo tours (http://www.calcuttaphototours.com/ ). To anyone who wants to see Kolkata, and doesn’t have an avenue, even if they have an avenue it can’t be better than this one and especially to all those Calcuttans out there who only go to restaurants and malls, you don’t know what you are missing, take at least one tour with Manjit!!  He is the ideal, entertaining and knowledgeable tour guide and the reason it is a photo tour is that he will take  your photos!! So you can actually concentrate on the real things. Of course, I did no such thing. But, it is always good to have such an option.

Bow Barracks

The tour we took was to see the areas where the non native ( read, non Indian origin, mostly) people settled around the time of British rule in Kolkata and most of these small pockets are near the center of the city. They exist to this day and may be the worse for wear, in some cases, but are radiant in the culture and identity that separates them from everyone else. Our first stop was Bow Barracks, which as the name suggests housed the army (British) and now has “Anglo- Indian” families, that is, where a person from British descent ( mainly, but it could perhaps be from any of the British colonies as they regularly had a lot of inter- colony migrants) had married a native, usually a native woman. Another feature of an old city is the transient nature of what and who are considered to be the ‘superiors’, so clearly, during the British rule these marriages would have slightly increased prestige as marrying into the ruler’s family would have. But before long, all the prestige and most of the honor was lost, as happens to most ruling classes, eventually. The older the inhabitants, the stronger the need to hold on to what was once the ‘golden period’, especially with limited mixing or promoted segregation- the only avenue to remain distinct and proud of a unique ancestry, but sure to result in ostracization by the natives.

This lady told me that she had a daughter just like me, Bow Barracks
This lady told me that she had a daughter just like me, Bow Barracks

Today, the bow barracks still houses progeny from these Eurasian families, mostly christian. They are constantly under legal attack by the government as they are, technically, illegally occupying the area, more so, because the conditions are far from safe as almost no renovations have been made to the buildings to keep them safe. The residents don’t have their own water supply in some of the buildings and none of the apartments has their own toilets or bathrooms. Manjit will tell you this and more!! I will only mention that in many houses the water is still delivered in big bags of canvas and there are deliveries of goat milk, fresh, literally. Most people in Kolkata know that the anglo indians live somewhere in the city, most middle class Indians know that they live in Kolkata, but the two Calcuttans with me had never been there, and my father and a grand uncle have also never been there ( my grand uncle has lived in Kolkata most of his life, and is close to 79, my father has visited Kolkata very often is is known to walk around every place he visits till he feels he knows it well).

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In the same tour we saw the Bengali Buddhist temple ( although for clarification purposes, Buddhism started in India and migrated outwards, but I think the Bengali Buddhists in India came from Bangladesh, although they are original Buddhists who speak Bengali) , the Parsi place of worship in Kolkata – that just celebrated its centenary with a small community of about 600 people in total, a synagogue – there are only about 25 Jews in Kolkata, most of them too old to come to the synagogue and the two synagogues we saw (one from outside) are usually closed. I should mention here that Kolkata has about 4.5 million residents, so if there was a haystack, these communities would be very hard to find. Instead, it is just a labyrinth where the more you get lost, the more you see.

China town shop

Residents of old china-town at the daily bazaar that assembles in the morning.
Residents of old china-town at the daily bazaar that assembles in the morning.

The first china town in Kolkata, where we met Stella- a shop owner selling inscrutable things (except candy, that I could make out) whose grandfather had come to India. She is the only one of her family who is still there. I think the original inhabitants of this place are quite scarce these days. We saw old streets which sell electronics of all kinds, including fancy coffee makers, or lights and party decorations ( Balloon street). A great three hours, but not meant for people who prefer clean streets or have a fear of crossing roads within 2cm of a bus or car or both with three hand driven rickshaws and perhaps even a cow.

Just that trip would have made this year’s, most unnatural, second trip to India worth it. But it seems, as a pay back to a terrible year in most counts, I was going to get a few more treats. In Delhi, my mom took me to a silk exhibition. Now, there is certainly no dearth of ‘Melas’ is Delhi. Melas or fairs are so common, we have vast grounds just to host the trade fairs, the book fairs and all kinds of other fairs. But this one, was in Bikajikama Place – that is on the road that I took to go to school, for years. Even if I was in a bus most of the time, I went to college taking that route too!!! Yet, I never knew of the stores that sold handloom silk in the place and had never ever heard of the Silk Exhibition. There was silk of every kind, all handloom and often embroidered coming straight from the weavers with as little mediator interference as possible. So, you are not buying the scarf from the one who made it, but he is probably the brother. It was beautiful and I even went again. My one weakness are stoles and scarves and I cannot have enough of them. There were sarees as well. Dupiar, Eddi, Kota, Mutka, Chanderi and even Khadi  silks ( and many others I don’t know) from various parts of India, Bhagalpur, Kashmir, West Bengal, Assam, Madhya Pradesh to name a few. There were patterns that may look like prints, but are actually hand woven.

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It’s true that I am all but ignorant of most of the cultural activities in Delhi, of which there are literally thousands every month, but I still recommend this exhibition for the cultured soul, to get out of their comfort zone and immerse one of the outcomes of culture- traditional handloom..

One of many, identically or more stocked, saree stores in chandni chowk
One of many, identically or more stocked, saree stores in chandni chowk
Borders- Kinarein
Borders- Kinarein

The next place I visited was Chandni Chowk, and yes, every tourist to Delhi has probably been there. But remember, this is for the Delhiite, like me, who has always known how to avoid Chandni Chowk and the Paranthe wali gali. Thanks to my dear cousin, and Delhi’s Metro, I finally saw one of the oldest and most charming of all markets in Delhi ( old Delhi), with narrow streets ( I should totally have a post just on narrow streets in India) lined with all kinds of garments and ostentatious embellishments for the traditional Indian outfits. The true surprise here was a whole street lined on both sides with borders –  Kinari Bazar kinara being hindi for ‘border or side’ or ‘ends’ in this case of kurtas or shirts. These are embroidered with astonishing colors, gold threads, stones, wooden beads, feathers… You can get a whole piece already cut in the shape of the neck, like a necklace, but to be stitched on to a kurta or a shirt.

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The colors, the various types of people selling the colors, and the people buying them. All sorts of subsidiary shops and activities that have arisen given the popularity of the market, like people selling lemons and ginger in front of a saree stores ( I should say that the ginger was of very high quality), beggars with painted faces that only ask for tips from shop owners, possibly some kind of an omen or for good luck. And hidden in between, on the left if you are facing a particular direction ( ha ha), right by the men’s public toilet ( so that you definitely don’t waste your breath around the area and are most likely to miss it) is a lovely street with old fashioned houses. Possibly hundreds of years old, with beautifully carved wooden doors and Mughal/persian architecture, dated approx 18th century,  the Naughara Lane, oft visited by other walking tours, I saw, but was just pure serendipity for me! Its entrance is a small stone opening, about 6 ft. I plan to upload some of the photos in another post dedicated to the stories ‘doors’ can tell or hide.There is an office, which we mistook for an antique store, with no walls at the entrance. There were antique chairs, telephones, statues and paintings filled to the brim in that office and while we went in and later came out embarrassed, you can still see all of it from the street itself!

I finally had the famous paranthe from one small restaurant at the uber famous Paranthe Wali gali. Shared with some British tourists, who clearly know where to eat!! I had mirchi ( green chilly pepper) parantha, my sister had lemon parantha, they even had banana parantha ( which the British kid and his mom had) and karela, bhindi, muli parantha. The squash ( kaddu) sabzi was pure delight!

A well worth 45 min metro ride. I say. While I think there must be some song most apt for Kolkata, I don’t know of one ( do tell), but A.R. Rehman’s: Ye Dilli Hain mere yaar, bas ishq mohobbat pyaar…. ( Dilli 6) is truly, apt for the Dilli we all want to see, the Dilli that must exist beneath the layers of apathy, frustration, anger and misery. Saddi Dilli.

So, yes, the older the city, the more endless its charm. Mmm, is it possible to me ‘more’ endless? I suppose not, if you buy one 9 m border from Kinari Bazaar- but what if you joined all of the ones being sold and continually made? That’s Dilli and Kolkata, miles of distinctive borders that we build and I am working on joining together to get something of a whole.

9m

Why I don’t (gasp) like to drive…

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Living in the US and not driving a car ( even just a claim about not absolutely loving to drive), one gets relegated as socially inept, dependent and some form of handicapped, a major form at that ( unless you are from New York City, where all kinds of social ineptitude are forgiven and driving, in particular, is not essential).

Driving being a sign of independence ( I am 16 and I can now drive anywhere I want, yoo hoo!!) and cars being a true signature of self, be it a ‘environment- friendly’ Prius, a ‘macho’ monster truck, an ‘elegant’ Lexus/Cadillac or the truly rich, chic and well endowed convertible.  I am sorry if I don’t really know the real significance and appear to be naive on the real significance of the cars and for obviously missing everyone’s favorite sports cars and sports sedans and of course the SUVS.

It is strange to me, I always considered myself to be somewhat independent. So how is it that I dislike something that is such an underscoring factor FOR independence. Okay, even if that is only in the US, but surely, independence does not change definitions as country lines are crossed.

Or does it.

Of course it does, dummy, I say to myself. Trying to fend of the ever growing cloud of  certainty that it doesn’t, not really, and I am a coward and a pussy with absolutely no idea of how to make a statement about being independent, liberal and nature loving, lacking the essential car bumper to do so.  Also, can almost certainly not go to any grocery store meant for the nature loving- healthy-eating kinds. The quip ‘ you can’t even drive?’ being considered far worse than ” you don’t read? Anything?” – the one thing I considered to be mortifying, all my life.

‘Share the road with bicyclists and the motor cyclists’. Post script: not present in quotes, are the ‘meth smokers’, ‘alcoholics’, ‘drunk’, ‘drug addicts or high- for the first time’, ‘half asleep’, ‘fully asleep’ and basically people who cannot make up their minds about what is left. PPS: Don’t forget the newly independent teenagers.

Yes, be independent, it’s a free country, so show them who owns the road, just like they are trying to show you. Forget all the people ‘dependent’ on public transport living in most other countries of the world and concentrate on de-icing your windshield. As Calvin’s dad always said ‘ De-icing builds character’ ( no, he didn’t).

Also forget the fact that  a teenager and the early tweenager  has a high chance of dying in a car accident (http://www.worldlifeexpectancy.com/usa-cause-of-death-by-age-and-gender) , taking you and your independent streak with him or her and all the unfulfilled dreams they were driving towards. I don’t know, I think independence and responsibility are so entwined that separating them can only lead to road rage, sorry, road accidents, err, sorry- fatal errors.

So as the twenty year old Toyota Camry cuts you off at an intersection on 75 and then decides to slow down and swerve to avoid the lone armadillo in the sky facing missionary position, now no doubt in god’s arms ( well, if he had a soul, he would be) and remain in your lane at the same time, while you are politely maintaining speed limit at 70 mph, and the fully loaded Hummer fuming parallel to you, is going at 110 and trying to snake its way in between you and the Wal-mart Truck (that hoots its air horns just  for fun), in front of it, imagine a half- asleep driver, -because- of- no- sleep- for- the- past- 12 hrs- in the road trip to Yellow stone from New York, with 5 other teenagers right behind you, in a jalopy with proportionately aged brakes. When you can actually read what the sticker on the bumper of the car in front says -Jesus Loves you, you think, He better. Incidentally, a Miley Cyrus song wakes up the teenaged driver who witnessed her twerking and wants to beat his (sleepy) navigator who is attempting  turning the volume up with his eyes closed, to possibly change channels to something playing actual music ( he is the responsible one, has taste, and yes, he picked the destination). He doesn’t read anything on your bumper, it’s something about Big Brother is watching you, but does step on his brakes on time. No one right behind him either.  All is well in this best of all possible worlds.  No, wait another three minutes for the blonde in the convertible….

I would really call for trains and buses, sure it makes you dependent on that driver, but trains have tracks that other trains can’t take at the same time, and buses are bigger. Plus the driver is what you may call, actually trained in the profession of driving and probably not showing up drunk at work. I especially call for more school buses and city buses and all kinds of other buses so that teenagers can be safe, from themselves AND help doing groceries from the Whole Food’s 25 miles away. Sure flights are expensive and I personally don’t like them, but their discomfort cannot hold  a candle to 20 hr road trips.  But then buses are not suitable for such long trips and how can there be trains connecting every major city in every state? Is that even possible? mmmm.. yes. Even in India. (Just think of the jobs created to build the railways and maintenance…. the actual independence of families from food stamps that could bring. Naahhh…. we hate public/ government things. Yet want it to have our privacy as cake. We love oil companies, car dealers and manufacturers and what would happen to the bumper sticker market?)

Sure, I really don’t know what it FEELS to actually OWN something that runs on fuel, but I really would not like to take my chances on that high heeled blonde ( pun intended and have you tried driving with heels on??), texting and fixing her hair at the same time, in her newly expropriated red convertible (dad’s). While also managing to coo at her chihuahua enfolded carefully in a Balenciaga bag. Whatever her faults, I wouldn’t want to take the responsibility for her undergoing yet another cosmetic surgery! Besides,  she is right to be frustrated with the young couple, in a two door civic, in front of her aiming to see all the national heritage sites on Route 66 and only slowly realizing that often those signs pointing upwards towards the next heritage site, actually mean left, not right .

I would prefer to sleep in the stinky bus, thank you very much and spare the miles and miles of gas ( preventing wars, while I am at it). Notice I did not even get a chance to mention what happens when the car breaks down and the world stands still holding its breath, or when your fellow drivers have dogs and children as attention seeking passengers ( a chihuahua while morbidly cute is not a dog), …..I seriously don’t think that whoever said ‘ life is a journey, not a destination’ meant spending 3 hrs on the commute to work on I-95.
If you really like the view, you are probably not driving.

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The kind of people I like…

Curiosity

I have been accused ( and I might add correctly) of not liking enough people. Or any people. My dad routinely asked me to list the people I really liked, I think I always had real trouble after about 5 names. As I grew up it was still about 5-8 because he often did not know the people I would have liked to list, so I didn’t name them. The list was still never really long, may be I confused liking with admiring or wanting to be like them, I don’t mind most people.  Anyway, I must be a terrible person and a snob. That’s fine, you don’t have to like me either!

Even so, there were numerous people I loved and love.  That is always easier.

So, this is going to be a short post as age has given me the upsight ( okay okay, insight) into what I admire.

I like people who value knowledge, have a passion to integrate what they learn into their life and not keep the two things separate. People who like to learn more about things that affect life, their lives, others’ lives and consider them the same thing. Because what is happening to someone else can soon happen to them, to me, to anyone. Who don’t take freedom as a right, but take it as a responsibility. Who don’t think vigilance is an option or should be only related to what is happening in their street or inside their homes.

People who try to restrict Orwellian ‘doublethink’ (having two opposing thoughts and believing them both even though they are mutually incompatible, e.g., working with mouse models of human diseases and not believing in evolution; believing in democracy, yet trusting privately owned, unaccountable and profit oriented CEOs more than the elected government or believing in an all encompassing and omnipresent God, restricted to their own religion etc. ). They are prepared to test every belief they have with every day they live and learn and perceive more. It is nearly impossible to remove all forms of doublethink, especially if you are not a monk, but restricting its existence is possible. A word of caution here is, some times what appears to be contradictory, just because one has decided to support a particular group of people, e.g., the Syrian government vs. the rebels, the Russian version of Crimean invasion or the western or the Ukrainian, is actually not contradictory. Because all sides can be wrong. And even the usually wrong sides, can do some things right. And acknowledging that doesn’t mean we don’t know which side we are on ( which could be no side at all, especially for spectators, although not so much for the people in the midst of it all), it means we are aware. The people I like, would like to be aware of the details, even if, they are forced to side one way or the other: the lesser evil, the more promising or simply the less damaged (in the head)!

People who know and seek the truth and yet remain positive knowing its cruelty. People who have hope, amidst every sign of morbid despair. Who don’t know everything and don’t pretend to do so, yet don’t stop trying to learn giving it up as a thankless pursuit. People who don’t just look but try to see. Who would follow up on a news story making waves and try to find the truth, before reacting as and in a herd ( like Zimmerman’s).

People able to differentiate, if the need arises, between justice and truth, integrity and honesty and  the absence of any of that.

People who believe in basic human equality and value all forms of life and nature, above national boundaries, yet appreciate cultural traditions and natural causes of dissent.

If that sounds like doublethink, it is not. It is more tolerance and acceptance. The difference can be a little confusing, but I think I can best explain it as: doublethink would require changing what other people/societies (like scientists) do, think, believe or have proven, to satisfy your version of the truth ( or the reconciliation of two or more arguments that you wish to believe as true). Tolerance would just require you to accept the things that already exist, scientific or historic in nature, like cultural traditions and gravity, (even if the laws explaining gravity more appropriately may change). So, I don’t think being religious and believing in evolution is doublethink, because where I come from religion is more of a cultural thing and the belief in God is personal choice ( you can have a favorite God too!). Although, I am surely taking a lax position on this one (hardcore people may feel free to disagree). Mainly because being uprooted from my country, I have finally understood the value of tradition and the intricacies and thought that have gone in to build them. Their knowledge is essential to keep them longer. And knowledge is maintained best by practice accompanied by questioning all things simply taken on face value, traditionally ( like castes, in India).

Finally, people who relentlessly practice not fooling the person easiest to fool, themselves and still go to sleep hoping for a good day tomorrow. At present, I am glad that there have been days I have been close to getting on my own list. So go ahead, as I said earlier, you don’t have to like me either!

Knowledge

To the Almighty, do restrictions apply?

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Just reading a newspaper, even focusing on local news in the most ‘celebrated’ country in the world one questions the almighty being all that mighty. The fact that I question obviously means I am an atheist, in the same country ( although, not so much in my own, poverty stricken, human rights violating country). I consider myself to be spiritual, with no way to prove it.

Every time a huge natural disaster strikes, from the Haitian earthquake, the tsunamis to the recent flash flooding in one of the most popular pilgrim destination in India- Uttarakhand’s Kedarnath and Badrinath with thousands of people still unaccounted for and presumed dead, I wonder at the mightiness that brought this about. Nature’s might I do not doubt.

To a religious fanatic, all those people would be sinners and the one ones who survived such disasters, much to their own chagrin and survivor’s guilt, are probably favored by God. Maybe apocalypse happens in small doses in small pockets of the world and the one who have accepted Him truly survive and rejoice. I doubt they rejoice very much, but what do I know. An apocalypse will surely not see me survive.

I wonder if God himself is religious. Does someone who creates and constitutes a religion, have to practice it? You would think that He would restrict us to a single one, if YOU were religious. He clearly likes diversity, in every aspect of nature. He couldn’t be clearer if He wrote it in the sky everyday, except, He probably doesn’t want to favor any language, on this shared sky and was never into mental domination and hypnosis- that’s man made.

Nature doesn’t have a preference (survival of the fittest is more the survivors cross to carry). And people killing others in the name of the God proposed religion(s), would be clearly God’s will too. Vengeful He is, unless you listen to Buddha who chose the middle path to Nirvana – making him one with God and definitely deplored vengeance. But Buddha, with the historic back up of actually having existed,  is, after all, not God. Additionally, if God doesn’t need to practice his favored religion himself or does so without telling us directly, he certainly can be vengeful and still demand that we are not so. That’s the definition of free will he wants to see in us and the consequences He can unleash at His leisure after we meet an end, naturally.

I wouldn’t vote for a vengeful God. Neither for one that takes attendance  ( as I believe I read somewhere, I hope the original wasn’t Dawkins and if it was, he has a few points to make some times). But who said it was a democracy. We are servants not masters. Best to do what we are told and even when all we want to do is head to a portal ( temple) to be closer to the master, only to pay respects, he may strike us down. Its His will.

I don’t believe that. Not one bit. Vengeance is for the wronged and even more for the weak to prove their strength. He doesn’t have anything to prove and I don’t think spends time tallying test results. All the despair and injustice in this world is not His will, its his bane. He started something he cannot control or micro manage. And haven’t you ever had that guy as a manager? These managers  never have only one thing they started either, why would they, its the joy of creation, isn’t it, so why stop? For us,  feeling too special, as being the ONLY planet with God’s children,  is just another way of being ignorant. He gives you a chance called life and once you take it, it goes its course.

He has some access points, vertices that He may be able to bring about a change of ‘course’, once His ‘children’ make it to them, those that have keys. Some may never even reach a single vertex. Prayer, more likely meditation and a true analysis of self, may lead to those points, but you have to seek them first and be prepared to accept fully you may never actually find what you began looking for.. And even if you do find Him, His hands maybe tied and need different keys than you have, because instead of ‘dying’ for our sins, he might just have got his hands tied, for the most part, for our sins and lets us just pay for them!

For the people incapable or incapacitated to find themselves, by being, say religiously blind, in denial and wantonly ignorant. Afraid of knowing anything they didn’t always know and actually having to use the brain they have ( or must have). Nature has no preference, but maybe, God does, now that’s a chance worth taking, I would say. Even though His bane may be that He can often do nothing.

If there was one thing in life you could do right, what would it be? ‘Lootera’ (Movie review)

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What if it is also the one thing that can destroy you? Reeks of love. Yes. The kind of love a thief would feel for a princess? And the kind of love the princess feels for the thief? Yes to both.

Lootera, a name that at first glance didn’t seem like some thing I would want to watch. However, a more appropriately named movie has not been casted in a long while.

Of all the subtly powerful character Indian cinema has ever seen, those not played by Sanjeev Kapoor, Guru Dutt, in the recent past Naseeruddin Shah, Anupam Kher have not been played. If I had been asked who was most likely to play one in a lead role, in this generation, I would probably have said Hrithik Roshan, the only actor whose good looks sort of curb his acting. He is too good looking to be a simple thief. Or Ranbir Kapoor, who did a good semblance of a heartbroken rock star. or Saif, whose recent characters can only be overlooked in the wake of Omkara and some parts of Parineeta. I would not have said Ranveer Singh, not in a million years, although I quite enjoyed Band Baaja Baraat and mores the pity for me to typecast him. I stand corrected and will try never to typecast again, even though he is likely to be a true exception.

Varun Shrivastav, the con man is played to the absolute perfection possible by Ranveer Singh. Every nuance of a character that grows up acquiring all the needed skills for conning powerful men in that age of kings and zamindars, is visible in the body language and his face is a mask  through which his true self plays hide and seek. His real proclivity for poetry and art, while being under the shadow of a dishonest life and a dubious uncle,( who he still feels indebted towards )shines through his endearing smiles. He is good at conning and not particularly proud or happy about it, every look, gesture and movement portrays parts of that. The character and the actor never loses sight of who he is or who he would like to be. Whether in the contained humor and charm, knowing he can be as manipulative as he likes and get away with it and still not giving in to the urge of being that low and that powerful.

His appreciation of Pakhi is also as encumbered, only given away by a few smiles and inadvertent, uncontrollable emotions in his eyes. He naturally accepts her as a good writer and expects her to be able to paint, never having been a chauvinist, only a thief. He never does anything overt to attract or seduce her, aware of his boundaries, but cannot resist taking some happiness out of their attraction.

Here is where the story needed the setting it had, only in the Bengali culture were women educated and some pampered ones allowed to have the dream of their own career, in the late 1940s. And that too, only a daughter of a zamindar or a king could hope to be allowed to do as she pleases, take lessons alone with a young man, drive a car. Have a mind of her own. Progressive zamindars were probably restricted to Bengal.

Sonakshi’s Pakhi is a strong-minded, independent girl, so ahead of her time that she can devise ways to spend time with a man she thinks she may like. Burns his hand without regret, just to get even with him and other than her instinct, does not need corroboration of any kind, of his devotion to her.  Sonakshi plays it well and realistically, her character is intricately developed and portrayed beautifully. Being born up in a pedestal, as only a princess can be, her pride gets hurt before her heart. Even so, she cannot resist to do anything to make him stay, not fearing another rejection. She is the idealistic vulnerable girl, a self -effacing thief will have no choice but to love.

While Ranveer’s Varun is perfect, Pakhi is commendable and the story could only have been a success if their love was indubitable on screen. After all, that is why love stories rarely work, we just don’t feel it. (I hardly felt a stir between Ranbir and  whatshername, in Rockstar, which is why the heartbreak he feels remains mysterious in origin.) But this one does, the director led chemistry leaps out of screen. You can feel the depth of their emotion. It engulfs you and had me transported in a capsule to a world and time, where they lived.  The pond by which they sat, as she expects him to show a physical reaction to what she thinks is an enticing statement. At Varun’s withdrawal, she is more annoyed and confused than hurt, as she doesn’t understand it.  And I can feel his restraint and control. Even when he tried to pretend to know painting well enough to teach her, he is clearly nervous and acts as if pulled against his better judgement and meditates towards what he would like to learn himself. His innocence, despite being a con man, is visible when he says that ‘ nature ko canvas pe utarna bohot asaan hai”  (it is easy to paint nature on canvas) and more so, when Pakhi says she cannot draw leaves ( which are indeed, hard to draw for a novice), his relief at being asked to show something so simple, belies his innocence and his hope to impress her. Painting leaves is not that easy, he finds out for himself!

His need for her love,  to hear her say it in his room, is palpable. Even when he had shuttered his eyes into blankness on being confronted by Pakhi earlier, who accuses him of making a play of her, the strain on his conscience is visible.

His capacity to give the tenderness that he has never received, is portrayed beautifully, because Pakhi expects to be taken care of and can love truly with her guileless heart, but like most adored for people, has a hard time showing the same tenderness and caring to others. After all, it is like a birthright to her. She never asks him where he was shot or if he was hurt, when he is fleeing from the police.

The sweet friend who often acts as a floating subconscious around Varun- Devdas, played by Vikrant Massey, is also very well enacted, and a well developed character, his love of music and films, perception and true friendship. The only thing either he or Varun actually have is their mutual trust and friendship and moments of playfulness.

The screenplay, art direction deserves accolades for the culmination of a real love story, one in which the only right thing the thief did was not to remain with his beloved. Even when he had a chance, his only chance of a life, he let it go. He left her not only because he felt indebted to his uncle but so that she could have a life she deserved, not one he could give her.

Then, he gives up his final chance of escape and of being counted amongst the living, to free her of her self imposed prison. Of the grief he had not anticipated would cause so much damage to such a high-spirited girl. He had misjudged her depth of feelings and makes amends, looked after her when she had no one, endured her hatred and anger in the Dalhousie cottage she has decided to maker her coffin. And brought to conclusion, the only right thing he ever did in his life.

The story ties itself along leaves, a leaf that Varun is unable to paint on canvas, his unlikely dream of making a masterpiece, the same imperfect leaves that finally set Pakhi and him free. Free to relish in their love, not despair, together in that joy.

Vikramaditya Motwane is a magician. He is god and we are lucky that he wasn’t born to Hollywood. He is what we credit Bhansali to be ( according to me, not that Bhansali’s grandeur is not eye catching). He can take an understated story to unbeknownst heights.  Write screenplay (with excellent help from Anurag Kashyap in dialogue and Bhavani Iyer). Interweaving the period specifics of people’s joy and intermingling of daily activities with radio and film music, the changing government acts, lives of the ‘ruling class’ and their outlook and traditions, perhaps the less autocratic of them. Even the affected British accent,  that the two con men use sometimes. The music adds the final touch, adding depth and never taking the focus off the story.

While watching the movie (again and again, which I am sure some of you will), if you find a soul hovering around the tree that Varun stands below and speaks his heart out through his eyes, of his sorrow and incompleteness without Pakhi and his bottomless regret. Of his real pleasure in taking care of her and her, finally forgiving the most unforgivable. If you see me there, it is because I am.  Or in the shadows of the Haveli’s guest room.

And that is why I have written the first pure movie review. Ranveer Singh, you I crown the next deserving king, for decades. Kemon boka.. Monta re ..