Wednesday, July 18, 2012

Love, Hate and Rajesh Khanna

My mother belongs to the most confused generation of all times. She belongs to an era when women had the drool-worthy Dharmendra, yet they chose to fall for Rajesh Khanna. My mother, who claims to like Manoj Kumar better than Amithabh Bachchan and Dharmendra more than Khanna, is a supremely conflicting woman and also a classified liar. Whenever a Khanna movie comes on television, you will find her glued to the screen with half the contents of our fridge and kitchen lying in front of her. More often than not, this movie is Amar Prem.

There have been days when she has sacrificed her daily intake of television soap operas for the sake of this movie. It's not a mean feat. No one else has managed to do it, not even me. My mother, on more than one occasion has refused to take my call because she was in the middle of a serial. So you get it now. It is a big achievement, perhaps Khanna's life's biggest achievement, bigger than becoming India's first superstar.

Owing to this strange obsession she had with the movie (and with the star, though she won't admit), I had developed a certain amount of hatred towards it and towards the actor as well. When she told me about girls sending him blood written letters, and about them sleeping with a Rajesh Khanna postcard under their pillows, I branded an entire generation of women lunatic. How could anyone be this mad about a man who carried a paunch, wore clothes which resembled curtains and danced like he was being bitten by ants? I never got the fuss.

While she thought that "Yeh aansun poch dalo Pushpa...I hate tears" was a line which could make any girl blush, I found it cringeworthy. One time, she again sat watching the same film for the 'Nth' time. The very same day, Zee Cinema was playing Sholay and I wanted to watch it. When I tried to change the channel, I was asked to mend my ways and concentrate more on studies rather than watching reruns of same old overrated Dacoit-Cop drama.There were many such days when we bickered and finally fought over Khanna. I hated him. And I had my reasons."Oh come on!" she would say, "he is a fine actor, much better than your Shahrukh Khan, who tries to pass off stammering as acting." Yes, she played dirty and mean, when it came to Khanna.

Having been born to a mother who loved Bollywood almost as much as her children, if not more, it was hard to not get addicted to movies. I grew up watching just too many films. At the age of eight Hariyali aur Raasta for some reason was my favourite movie and not Hum Aapke Hai Kaun! So, I had obviously seen a lot of Khanna movies as well. Aradhana, Haathi Mere Saathi, The Train, Kati PatangSafar, Anand, Bawarchi, Namak Haram, Amar Prem(of course), Mehbooba, Souten, Agar Tum Na Hote, Avtaar, Thodi Si Bewafai, Swarg( the list could go on), I had seen all, and more than one time. 

I don't know why. Or perhaps, I do. 

These films were honest entertainers, the music, often given by R D Burman and the songs often sung by Kishor Da, were mellifluous, beautiful and soulful. If Khanna couldn't dance, so couldn't my father and most of the people of his generation, hence it wasn't a sought after quality. After all, for a long period of time Shammi Kapoor was the best dancer in Bollywood (and for some he still is). 

A few days back, the magazine that I work for, did a story on Tom Alter. The thespian, like my mother was a Kaka(as Khanna was lovingly called) fan. In the interview he told us that it was after seeing Aradhana, that he decided to make a career in acting, and was thrilled to core, when he finally got his chance to meet his idol. While I brushed it off as just a funny anecdote, my mother was overjoyed. "I always thought that Tom Alter was terrific actor," she said. 

While Khanna remained a topic of discussion in our household, he was, for almost a decade or even more, wiped off the nation's collective conscience. Recently while reading an article on Khanna (It read You know Rajesh Khanna, don’t you? If you are a young man or woman reading this, you may have heard of him as Akshay Kumar’s father-in-law or Dimple Kapadia’s husband or Amitabh Bachchan’s one-time co-star.) in the Open magazine I got reminded of an incident which took place aeons back.

My brother(who in those days was an Akshay Kumar fan) one day, got so outraged by my mother's love for Khanna, that he abandoned food for almost a day. In some random discussion we were having about my brother's favourite actor, my mother told him off completely. "Akshay Kumar, who Akshay Kumar? Oh that useless bum who thinks he is an actor but is actually famous because he married Rajesh and Dimple's daughter? I don't know how you can like him," she said. My brother was furious and the rest of us, in splits.

A few days back when Khanna appeared in a Havel's fan commercial,  he managed to create a spur. I, like many others, was surprised. What had happened to the man? Was he the same Khanna my mother talked about? He looked like a skeleton in a tux. He was laughing at himself and perhaps at people like me, who could never understand him and his charm.“Babu Moshai, mere fans mujhse koyi nahi cheen sakta” says he in the commercial and when I look at my 50 something mother, I know he is not lying.

So today, after I came to know about the actor's demise, I called my mother. I told her I might write something on her and her love for Khanna, and started asking her questions about him. She answered some of them impatiently, and ignored the rest. Finally, I asked her about why Amar Prem of all the films was her favourite movie. She thought for two minutes and said "Amar Prem? That's not my favourite movie. It's Sholay."

Rest in Peace Kaka. You may have gone from the material world, but you continue to live in the hearts and minds of my mother and others like her.

PS: Anand is my most favourite movie of all time. Not Sholay.

Friday, March 23, 2012

The Marriageable Age of An Unmarriageable Bride

Tring Tring. Tring Tring. Tring Tring. 

>>Hello, is that you? 
>Yes, yes it is me. Who are you?
>>This is me, you don't recognise me? 
>Of course I do. I am sorry, I was a little caught up with something.
>>That's fine; you are the mother of a soon-to-25-daughter. You are bound to be caught up with things.
>What? Yeah, Oh well..
>>Why what is the matter? 
>Nothing is the matter just that the 24 and a half year old at my place says she doesn't want to get married. 
>>What? Is she out of her mind? I had so many rishtas lined up for her!  Does she like anyone? I am sure she does and is not telling you.
>Oh no, I doubt that. We have been asking her, she keeps saying that if she had someone in life she would tell me.
>>But then what is the problem? 
>Who knows?
>>But deary, tell her that if she doesn't get married in the right age, she will start looking old. Will lose her ‘glow’ and then what guy would want to marry her? 
>I already gave her every possible explanation including the shallow one you just told me. 
>So then?
>She says she wants to build a career first. Wants to start her own something. 
>>Oh dear, poor you. You got a career types for daughter. Why couldn't God give you a 'homely' girl?  Now what will you do?
>I will go and bake that orange cake she has been asking me to bake for a while now.

Hah! In your dreams, she will tell me!!

That went long didn’t it? Well that has been the story of my life lately. Anyone and everyone who comes to visit or even calls randomly has one common question “so when are you planning to get her married?” My sister-in-law’s husband’s nephew’s cousin is quite a bright lad. He went to the IITs and is now working for some big MNC. She’ll be happy with him. Even they might be interested, what do you think? Baat chalau?

From the moment I have turned 24, the world has turned into a marriage bureau. Everyone I know, and at times don’t know, is worried about my marriage. If I don’t get married, the Mayan prophecy will come true perhaps. So to save the world, these people are on a get-the-soon-to-be-25-daughter-married mission. All tricks have been tried. Many a names have been discussed and rejected. Discussions followed by fights followed by I-am-not-hungry-you-eat-your-food dramatic sessions have taken place, but to no avail. The soon-to-be-25 is adamant and so is the mother. So the mother keeps looking for prospective grooms, this soon-to-be-25 keeps rejecting them. And so the battle continues.

Every relative has a list of at least 4 prospective grooms in tow. Where were all these eligible bachelors hiding up till today? Weddings have become a big no-no these days. Every other aunty not-so-gently nudges me and asks the much dreaded question “tera number kab aaega?”And I just slide away saying aaega aunty aaega.

The truth is that I don’t know when will I be ready for a marriage. It seems like a big responsibility. Moreover, it seems that one should be in love with the other person to spend the whole life with him. So yes, I will get married. I want to. But let me find a weird enough guy for myself, let me live up to my romantic notions. Let me read a few poems with him and talk for hours about them. Let me fight with him about who the greatest writer of all times is. Let me write a letter or two to him and laugh over my own silliness. Let me dream about him, with him. Just let me fall in love with him and let him fall in love with me.

And then I will get married.  

Saturday, December 17, 2011

The Journey of a Lucknow Boy

It happened years back in the late ‘90s. I still was scraggy little teenager. It must have been the first week of some month of some year, when I first met Vinod Mehta. A bunch of magazines like the Readers Digest, Champak, Pratiyogita Darpan, and a few others whose names I forget, were lying on my study table. I started sorting out the ones that had come for me when I noticed that one of the regulars was missing from the bundle. I called my dad to tell him that he had forgotten to pick-up India Today and instead had picked-up some wrong magazine which we didn’t read called “Outlook”. Dad told me that from now on we will get this as it’s a better one, and the guy who writes it is crazy but brilliant. I without contesting my father’s opinion believed him and started reading Outlook instead of India Today.

While reading Mehta’s latest Lucknow Boy A Memoir, the first thought that struck me was that if Outlook was my first encounter with Mehta, Debonair was my dad’s. Mehta edited the Indian version of the Playboy in the mid 70s. Though I haven’t still spoken to my dad about it I am pretty sure he read and enjoyed the eclectic piece of modern journalism. Not because it had pictures of semi-nude women but because of the culture Mehta tried to bring in the magazine. If the two page center-spread had pictures of half naked women, the rest of the pages were studded with literary gems from names like Ruskin Bond, Kushwant Singh, Kuldeep Nayar, Saeed Mirza, Satyajit Ray and Mario Miranda. Yet, it was, as the Former Prime Minister Shri Atal Bihari Vajpayee once told Mehta, a very good magazine, “but I have to keep it under the pillow.”
Despite serious efforts, he could never really get rid of the tag of publishing a somewhat nude magazine and that’s why after the Vajpayee incident, Mehta says he decided to quit; and start a weekly newspaper which now we know was called the Sunday Observer, but more on that later. Let me now go back to the very first chapter of the book and Mehta’s life — his childhood.

Mehta grew-up in the city of Nawabs — Lucknow as a Punjabi army-brat where, as he tells us, began his erratic academic journey on the “back foot”. Thrown out of his first school the Loreto Convent for making an “indecent proposal” to a girl in his class, Mehta later took admission in the prestigious La Martiniere School. And there began, his friendship, with Saeed, Azad and Ashok, for life and his not-so-prestigious academic career. This part of the book is probably the most endearing, as Mehta tickles our funny bones with anecdotes from the past.

One time, Mehta and his friends, “the four idiots”, obtain a “kind of fatwa” from a maulvi and a pundit for forbidding them from attending Christian prayers in school. Not because of religious reasons, Mehta informs us, but because “7 a.m. was just too damn early to turn out for a boring sacrament.” The school, obviously, has no choice other than letting them go and so they go to town boasting about their successful “licking of the system”. This one was my favourites but you can have your pick. The book is full of such funny incidences and Mehta’s fluid and witty prose makes it a delight to read.

Though his college life does not find a big place in the book, he passingly mentions about the two years in Lucknow University, whose degree he now has lost. But, he tells us that those who wish to confirm his educational qualifications can check the record of the university. They will find him “Vinod Mehta, BA, third-class.”

Soon after his final year exams, without waiting for the results, Mehta moves to London on the persuasion of his friend Azad, and here begins his journey of self realisation and discovery. If the Lucknow period was about his blissfully ignorant childhood, London is all about the awakening of his conscience in every sense of the word. Mehta here talks about the influence of greats like George Orwell, Karl Max, John Osborne and many others. But Mehta is not the one to indulge in self praise. In the very beginning of the book where he quotes Orwell — “An autobiography is only to be trusted when it reveals something disgraceful” — we know that this book won’t just be his success story. And it is not.

Mehta has opened his heart out by writing about things one might shy away from even in the dark. The part about the daughter he refused to give his name, reflect on his blunt honesty and while his regret is visible he does not seek for the reader’s sympathy. It is the bare truth with which he rests his case.

With a group of hippies, Mehta embarks on the journey back home, via the land route for “financial and sight-seeing reasons”, after his eight year long stay in London. After spending a few days at home he moves to Mumbai where after working in an ad agency for some time, takes up the Debonair job.

After quitting from Debonair he started the successful weekly newspaper the Sunday Observer. Before the newspaper became a reality, the legendary Ram Nath Goenka had warned Mehta that a weekly newspaper is a dream that shall not see the light of the day and had told him “After your Sunday paper has failed come back and see me. I’ll give you a job”. But it is no secret that the Sunday Observer became hugely popular in its small lifetime. After the Sunday Observer, came the Raymond groups Indian Post, Bennett & Coleman’s Independent and the Thapar group’s The Pioneer. These parts of the book are filled with colourful insights about various people, including his lifelong foe and the bane of his life (at least in those days) Sharad Pawar. His fallout with Vijaypath Singhania of Raymond group and the ever elusive Samir Jain of the family are written in fine detail.

But the most awaited section is the one where he talks about his journey, which surprisingly to some, lasted a life time. When Rajan Raheja made the proposal editing a new fortnightly — Outlook, which on Mehta’s insistence became a weekly, nobody in the print world took it as a threat, least of all Arun Poorie who then edited the mammoth ‘India Today’. Yet Mehta was confident that they can take over their competitors. And rest as they say is history.

This is the most exciting part of the book where Mehta opens the locks of the ‘Watergate’ scam, which today is known as the biggest scam in the history of India, independent or not. Reading about Niira Radia, Barkha Dutt, Vir Sanghavi, and the big man Ratan Tata is absolutely thrilling and made the hair at the back of my neck stand. And then there is the battle between two literary heavyweights William Dalrymple and Ram Guha. His friendship and fallout with Vajpayee, insights to Vajpayee’s cabinet, etc are discussed in great lengths and make for a gripping read.

Mehta then shares the wisdom gathered through years of experience which is a must read for every newbie in the world of Journalism. These are not verses from the bible, meant to be abided-by strictly, yet they should help you solve many a dilemmas of work life. It helped me; chances are it will help you as well.

And finally comes the part where he writes about some people (and animals) who touched his life and some people whose lives he touched and pissed them off forever. While I will tell you who the animal is who touched his life and continues to do so till today — his dog Editor, I will refrain from writing about the others. You, like me, will, surely, seek great pleasure in unfolding the numerous surprises the book holds.

In the end I can only say that if Mehta were to be buried, his tombstone will definitely say what Frank Sinatra said in his song, “I did it my way”. It is a sinfully enjoyable page turner, which will appeal to the salacious gossipmonger within you. But more than that, it is an honest work of literature, written by the most revered, fiercely independent and extremely impartial editor of our times. It is absorbing, insightful and unputdownable. Read it!

Sunday, December 11, 2011

Anand: An Ode To Life

"Anand mara nahi, Anand marte nahi "- Dr Bhaskar Banerjee 

The curtain falls and it's The End. What lives on is the spirit of Anand, whose only purpose in life was to spread joy and transform the lives of the people he came in touch with. Anand, played by Rajesh Khanna, is suffering from Lymphosarcoma of the intestine, a disease which, as we are informed in the beginning of the movie, has no cure. Dr Banerjee played by Amitabh Bachchan is the idealist doctor, who doesn't believe in God, goes to the slums to treat patients for free; saddened by the harsh realities of life is on the verge of losing all faith. Dr Kulkarni, played by Ramesh Deo, on the other hand is a pragmatic man, who treats the poor for free but makes his money from his rich patients. 

While the two doctors sit and discuss their ideological clashes, Anand walks in, and as Dr Banerjee later writes in his diary "aisa laga jaise koi toofan ghus aaya kamare mein". From that moment on we see how Anand with his indomitable spirit and undying zest for life changes everything; everyone.

"Zindagi badi honi chahiye lambi nahi", life should be big not long, and  "jab tak zinda hun tab tak mara nahi, jis din mar gaya, saala main hi nahi" While I am living I am not dead, the moment I die, I am not alive to feel anything. It's because of gems like these that every time I see the movie I fall in love with again. In the world of new age cinema, where everything is based on a formula, the message has been told and re-told a zillion times. Yet no one has the power to put it across so elegantly and so effectively like Hrishi Da and his characters. 

Apart from the fantastic leads, the other characters such as that of Issabhai, the smart and witty theatre actor and the movie's final "Murarilal", played by the late Jhonny Walker and Mrs D'Sa, the strict yet lovable matron at Dr Kulkarni's hospital who Anand calls mummy, played by Lalita Pawar, both leave their imprints on the hearts of the viewer and add depth to the movie. "Dukh apane liye rakh, Anand sabke liye" says Issabhai and we are told that happiness is for all but sadness is only yours to keep. While the idea is debatable the message is clear, the key to a happy life is locking misery at a very deep corner of the heart where no one can see it, touch it or feel it. 

Walking on the sand leaving footprints behind only to be washed away by the sea, Anand releases balloons in the air, and sings "Zindagi kaisi hai paheli hae, kabhi to hasae, kabhi ye rulae, jinhone sajae yaha mele, sukh dukh sang sang jhele, wohi chun kar khamoshi, yun chale jae akele kaha". The sea, the sand and the balloons all are metaphors that tell us that nothing is permanent, those alive today will be dead tomorrow, the body will die silently and soul will fly away towards the open sky, but will they be truly gone? That riddle is called life. 

Rajesh Khanna, the 70s’ superstar, played the role of a life time but it was Amitabh Bachchan who emerged as the hero of the film by his subtle portrayal of Dr Banerjee. Zanjeer hadn't released yet and no one thought that this tall, lanky and strange looking young man will one day, take the entire nation by a storm. The romance between Bhaskar and Renu, played by Sumita Sanyal was beautiful, and today it makes you miss the good old days of innocence, when words weren’t necessary to convey messages.

In the last scene of the film, when Anand dies, Bhaskar yells at Anand, and begs him to talk and break the scary silence and suddenly we hear Anand’s voice “Babumoshai, zindagi aur maut to uparwale ke haath mein hai, Jahanpanah. Jise na aap badal sakte hain na main. Hum sab rangmanch ki kathputliyan hain jinki dor uparwale ki ungliyon se bandhi hui hai. Kab kaun uthega koi nahin bata sakta. Hah hah hah hah hah hah hah”. In this Shakespearian moment the movie ends and we are left to answer our own questions. Do people really die? Is death really our last refuge? Why do we mourn for the body which is slowly dying every day? Why can’t we celebrate the moments we spend with each other instead of worrying about the inevitable? Happiness is everlasting, sadness is beautiful and death is the twilight of life. 

Maut tu ek kavitaa hai .
Mujhse ek kavitaa kaa vaada hai milegi mujhko ..
Doobati nabzon mein jab dard ko neend aane lage
Zard saa cheharaa liye chaand ufak tak pahunche
Din abhi paani mein ho raat kinaare ke kareeb
Na abhi andhera ho na ujalaa ho
Na raat na din
Jism jab khatm ho aur ruh ko saans aae.
Mujhse ek kavitaa kaa vaadaa hai milegi mujhko- Dr Bhaskar Banerjee

Tuesday, December 6, 2011

Kapil Sibal's Diary

Date: 6-December-2011
Day: Tuesday 
Location: Shastri Bhawan 

Dear Diary,

It has been such a bad day. All day I have been getting frantic phone calls from different newspapers and news channels and they all seem to be asking me why I said what I said. I mean come on! I can't believe the media still takes me seriously; my children don't do that anymore.  

I was just getting bored sitting in my office. You know how lame it can get, with the parliament session being hauled by the stupid opposition there is not much entertainment out here. So here I was sitting and browsing through the facebook page of the Congress Party. I was Oh! So pleased to see that people were praising my Goddess, Sonia Madam and suddenly I see this very dirty picture of hers. Now you tell me how would I feel? I couldn't believe my eyes. How can anyone do such a thing to the most perfect and the most docile creature on earth? Obviously I had to take a stand right? 

So I thought why not call the dudes at Facebook, Google, Yahoo etc. You know what, it wasn't a big deal. They all seem to be pretty chilled out about it. They all kept laughing during the meeting. I was on a roll, though I didn't realise it then, but I am sure I made some kickass jokes. You know what the dude from Facebook told me before leaving? He said, "This was fun old mate! We should do this more often, I could do with a few laughs, you sure have a sense of humour". So then I don't really understand why others thought that censoring the internet is such a bad idea. 

My best friend from school called me up today and started laughing loudly. At first I couldn't understand a single word he was saying, he was laughing so hard. I could only understand a few words like "twitter, hashtag, you, idiot". Idiot was my pet name in school, so I thought he is trying to tell me about some trending twitter topic. So I thought lets log on to twitter, and make fun of someone (that Suhel Seth twitter war was so much fun :D ). But the moment I logged on I saw my pet name and real name with a hashtag going viral. 

I was surprised and appalled in equal measure; my friends had told my name to the whole nation? But then I realised that the nation guessed it itself. My God I was shocked. They all seem to be angry about me censoring the internet. Now you tell me dear diary, when have I ever done anything that I have promised. You remember the Right to Education Act? No? Me neither! I mean, come on yaar!  

You are the only one who understands my feelings. You know how insecure I was getting with Digvijay Singh hogging all the limelight. They all were saying that he is a madam ka chamcha. How could they, when I clearly am the biggest chamcha. I have a degree from Oxford and I used to be an intelligent lawyer, and only for madam I stopped bringing my brain to work. I disowned my brain completely! And this is what I get? No recognition in the media? They don't even call me Rahul Baba's favourite. You know it's very upsetting. 

I am telling you a boy can’t have fun these days. Huh! And now all these crazy media people are standing outside the office. So I can't go out. Looks like I have some time to kill. Let me go online and retweet my buddy Omar’s tweet, and kick that stupid Tharoor's ass (He btw is as vella as me. Had he not tweeted against my decision, I would have asked him to join me in my office. Alas! No such luck there).

Bye Bye Dear Diary.

Yours Truly 
Idiot aka Kapil Sibal.

Friday, August 19, 2011

An Open Letter To All The Confused Indians Like Me...

Dear Confused Indians,

Our country is experiencing strange maddening storm. Everyone seems to be drifting away with it. It is supposed to be the new freedom struggle. It has it's own version of Gandhi , who goes by the name of Kisan Baburao Hazare popularly known as Anna, and his followers who are respectable citizens of our country like Kiran Bedi, Shanti Bhushan and Prashant Bhushan and Arvind Kejriwal. It has people who will stop breathing if the new Gandhi shall demand so, and of course it has the enemy, which unlike last time is its very own government comprising of its own people.

No matter where I go I see people protesting. In the past one week, the only conversation I have had, no matter whom I talk to, has only been about Anna and his Lokpal. So much is the impact of this moment on our people that various universities and it's deans have abandoned studies and joined the movement. Reminds one of the non-cooperation movement right? In a way it is a non-cooperation moment against the already helpless and useless government. 

Now this movement has left me utterly confused. I find myself standing on a deserted crossroad not knowing which way to go. The moral police, our society, is appalled by the fact that I am questioning the new Gandhi and his Lokpal bill, they look at me with great anger in their eyes and ask me, what is it that you want, do you want the Congress to loot you for another century? Do you even know how much money there is in the Switz Bank? Our 10 generations can eat and live happily if that money comes back. 

I stand there listening to them, because obviously they don't want to listen to what I have to say. I try to explain them that I am not questioning anyone I am just asking questions, I want to know what is it that I am fighting for? Am I fighting for the new Gandhi? Or am I fighting corruption? If I am fighting corruption then how will this bill help me. Just explain that to me. No one does that, they just give me disgusted looks, they call me anti-Indian and what not, and carry on with their business of shouting slogans, Anna nahi ye andhi hai Desh ka dusara Gandhi hai!

Then there are few who surprisingly still support the government. When I ask them what is it that the Government is trying to say? Why do you support the Government? How is their bill better? they think here comes another new Gandhian. And start shooing me away like a street dog. They say you don't have faith in a democratically elected body go and support your dictator. There is no place for a person like you here.

So then after being shooed from both the sides I come back to my own corner and sit and wonder what is it that I should do? I know many of you are going through the same phase, where your ideas are still half cooked and so you are reluctant to go out and support or condemn the movement. You can see the flaws in the bill and yet most don't want to listen to you. You must have been looked down upon by your friends and family for being such a cynic.

I know we are not cynics. We are just a bunch of individuals trying to make sense in all the chaos. We cannot identify with Anna's movement and we will never support the Government and the bureaucracy. We have no way to go. Or wait, maybe we have. We are the people who are standing exactly in the middle of the two extremes. Probably because we have the capacity to find a mid-way between a malfunctioning democracy and a benevolent dictatorship.

 My ideas about the new Gandhi and the Jan Lokpal are incomplete. I want to complete them. But the more I read the more confused I get. I don't know who will clear my doubts or more importantly who will listen to them?

I don't know the answer, but an old Billy Joel number comes to my mind when I think about my situation....

Everybody's talking about the new sound funny but it's still rock n roll to me !!!!

Yours Truly
Yet another confused Indian

Saturday, August 6, 2011

Meet The New Mantal Bwoyz- Alagiri & Stalin

In an unprecedented move, Stalin and Alagiri announced today that they will be settling all scores at Spain’s Sanfermines Festival. Sanfermines is a famous Spanish Festival where men run in front of running bulls and prove their bravado. This decision was taken at the DMK’s General Council Meeting today. According to sources Stalin and Alagiri both have been deeply influenced by the philosophy of new Zoya Akhtar movie Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara, and it’s this influence that has made them both finally agree on something.

“I was starting to get really irritated with their constant bickering”, M Karunanidhi told Bullshit News. “Thank god that they saw the film and finally agreed to settle scores this way”, he said. On being asked about the possibility of replacing mundane elections with this thrilling festival he said “We have discussed this matter in the meeting, and given that our coalition continues with Congress, we may be able to pass a bill and make the event constitutional”
Alagiri informed Bullshit News that he is absolutely thrilled with the change of events. He was heartbroken on seeing the kind of support his brother was receiving within the party. But the new devised method is said to set him free from his fear of losing the seat, just like the three byowz in the movie. 

 “Technically I am the elder brother and therefore I should have automatically been next in line for the throne right?” asked a fairly disgusted Alagiri. “But no this Stalin woes some supporters and swoops in with some silly ideas about empowering the youth and bam! He becomes second in line for the position. So much for living in a Democracy! “he shrugged.

Stalin, who has also been deeply affected by the movie’s message, is impatiently waiting for the fun trip to Spain. According to Stalin, a powerful position in the party is not the only reason behind his approval of the decision. The position would have been his, any which way.

“When my brother and I were kids, our father would often call us mental boys, so when I saw the byowz, in the movie, use the phrase mantal byowz I got nostalgic.” A teary eyed Stalin told Bullshit News. “I just wanted to go crazy and take a trip down the memory lane with my brother” he said. “But that does not mean that I don’t understand the gravity of the situation. Such official trips are expensive business, and I value public money more than anything. My followers expect me to win and there won’t be any compromises on that.”

As of now, nothing can be said. Both the brothers are bent on winning. But the future of the state and the fate of the party are in the hands of a bunch of angry, fast running, and wild bulls.After this announcement, there was some information, that Karunanidhi has challenged the current CM Jayalalitha to out run him and the bulls in the race. But senior party leader Baalu has rubbished all such news calling it “media gossip”.