India is on a date with Oscar

The Indian presence at the 81st Academy Awards was unprecendeted. For once, India did not feature in only the foreign film category. Nor is Satyajit Ray, a great contributor to Indian cinema, the only Indian anymore to have one an award. AR Rahman joins him and does India proud.

As does Resul Pookutty, part of the sound mixing team which also won an award and the gorgeous kids from Mumbai who endeared a worldwide audience.

From the riot of hyper-pink-costumed dancers who performed a modern day jazz bharat natyam* to the dhol** players among the audience, the Indian actors who attended the event and the mindboggling number of awards Slumdog Millionaire won - the night truly belonged to bringing the world several steps closer to India.

Besides the entertainment factor, this movie and now these awards, will hopefully make the world more aware of a land which is home to more than a billion people and swelling community overseas. Make them appreciative of a culture of celebration and resilience, much of which languishes in indifference. No, not the politicians and geography majors whose job it is to know. But the next door neighbor in Sweden. The classmate in Australia. The fireman in Alabama. The everyday people around the world who will be curious to know more about a place like no other. And hopefully, just maybe, that curiousity will translate into opportunity for Indians to play host, to learn tolerance and embrace the process of opening of the mind. Because India needs more of an education. What better way than for an exchange of ideas? Only when this is successfully achieved can we claim to belong to a civilized society.



* A form of Indian dance
** An Indian drum-like instrument

Countries and Comfort in Class

I had been feeling slightly overwhelmed these past few days. With a full 16-credit course load, assignments pouring in with no indication of slowing down and an internship to balance, I felt like I was standing on upright bone china crockery while trying to pull a bunny out of a top hat. It was as though the winter break had never existed.

But today I went into my first class with Prof. Mills and for the first time in a week I felt so much at ease. That's because besides 80 percent of the class being international students, he uttered the words that every student journalist is aching to hear: Journalism is hard. If you don't find it hard, you're proabably not doing it right.

So I wasn't completely losing it. Phew!

That said, I'm excited about learing with people from so many different countries. We are from England, Egypt, Turkey, Pakistan, Norway, Taiwan, Greece and of course India! It's hilarious to note that there is only one boy in a class of about 15. Poor guy, I sure wouldn't want to be him. But most boys in the journalism program must be used to the phenomenon by now.

Point to note: The joys of curling up in bed, propped comfortably against a large pillow, wearing fleecy pyjamas and eating a bag of Doritos and cream cheese while watching TV...sigh. Every girl should have a guilty pleasure. Now you know mine.

Here's hoping the rest of the semester moves smoothly and the lone boy feels at home soon.

Rajasthan and Rome now at home

Hubba Hubba! This phrase can be used in two ways in relation to what will be the topic of this blog. That is, either in the conventional sense which is the process of the heart being sent into flutter, usually after seeing a particularly gorgeous member of the opposite sex or as the Kannada word to describe a celebration. However, while there's a good chance that the heart is likely to be set aflutter with what I am about to describe, the reason is not a boy or girl. But there is no doubt that nonetheless, it all comes together as a fantastic celebration.

Hum dil de chuke sanam....

...to the dining experience called Rajdhani.

UB City opened its doors to the public earlier this year and hasn't stopped surprising Bangalore. One of its highlights I recently discovered was the Indian open-air retaurant, Rajdhani, Ek Khaandani Paprampara. True to every word, Rajdhani is the kind of place you should visit on an empty stomach. Turst me, you'll need the space.

*Dholi taaro dhol baje dhol baje dhol baje dhol o dhum dhum baaje dhol!

Rajdhani is a non-stop gourmandizing indulgence with a wide range of foods making a steady beeline for the steel thali in front of you. Don't be fooled by the tiny portion of each sabzi - they're actually the perfect size which ensure that you're full without being stuffed, while still getting a chance to try all of them.

*Dheel de de re de de re bhaiyya, is patang ko dheel de!

My only complaint may be that it was an all-vegetarian menu. But that's juts the sworn carnivore in me speaking. Besides, I understand the necessity to keep it that way. Meat may distract from the rest of the colorful, delectable food served here.

I won't spoil the magic for you by giving you all the details. At Rs. 200+, it warrants a definite visit. Take your tastebuds on a ride called the Rajdhani.

**Yeh hai India meri jaan!

You could stop here. But why would you? Avarice as a vice is so overrated. Go back the following day like I did (yes, "following", with no break in between) and head to Toscano, just next to Rajdhani. Refreshingly, it's not a place for pretentious food in miniscule portions coupled with prices that could induce cardiac arrest. Quite the contrary, it serves delicious Italian food, in well-sized portions with whom the prices are in sound accordance. The menu is limited, inclined toward the vegetarian connosieur. But nothing a little perusing can't take care of. I recommend the pizza Toscano.

Soft lighting, wooden floors and comfortable chairs of mock-wrought iron made for comfortable outdoort seating on a cool December evening in the city. Hushed conversation and a dainty gloden candle in the center of the table had me believe that I wasn't far from Italy. Service was efficient and so friendly. Our waiter smiled the entire evening. Call me a sucker, but that made such a difference.

This is the Risotto Al Funghi I ate. Creamy cheese blended with rice, served with plump mushrooms and green beans with slivers of cheese on the side. As the placemats at the restaurant read, Buon Appetito!

*Lyrics from songs which appear in the Indian blockbuster, Hum dil de chuke sanam, whose story is based in the Indian state of Rajasthan.

** Lyrics from an old Hindi movie (which I improvised) which translate to, "This is India, my love."

An evening at the movies

A big goofy grin. That's what you have on your face when you walk out of Slumdog Millionaire. Brilliant all the way to the last frame.

Danny Boyle's latest film featuring debutant Dev Patel is so good! There's just no other way to put it. When a friend mentioned a while ago that I should watch it, I didn't think much of it. How could a movie with a title like that be? Sounded too morbid. I was so wrong.

Based on the book Q&A by Vikas Swarup, Slumdog Millionaire is the story of call center tea boy who lands himself a place on the primetime Indian Television Show, Kaun Banega Crorepati, based on Who wants to be a Millionaire?

How can an ordinary chaiwala from a mobile phone company call center in Mumbai know anything about the world, least of all enough to win hom 20 million Indian rupees? The kind of money that his lot will never see in a lifetime, putting him in the same category as more than 80 percent of the working Indian population.

Slumdog Millionaire is true to all that it shows of India. My only criticism may be that nothing of "other" India had been shown. The "modern," "advanced," "new face," of India. It may have helped in showing to the world that India is more than chawls and outdoor bathrooms. But if the movie is showing at sold out shows across the city and country despite a limited release, a sixth sense says that they probably know about that part anyway.

It's a different experience watching an independent Indian movie with an American audience. Unlike Indian movies starring six-figure super stars, this one had faces no one had seen before but grew to like quite quickly. And the audience was almost all-American. In fact, I may have been the only exception.

The movie also refreshes reasons why you love India, as ironic as it may seem in context of the material. How do expanses of poverty, helplessness and sheer filth remind you of loyalty? Because it makes you reliaze you love India, warts and all. With its traffic jams. With its dysfunctional system of power. With its volatile tempers and unpredicatble days. We love India. For it's fun-factor. For it's strength. For it's spirit. We love you India.

A.R. Rahman's soundtrack is brilliant. The kind that sends a tingle down your spine, similar to the feelings of patriotism that his rendition of Vande Mataram invokes. The camerwork is flawless - fast paced and well edited, throwing you right in the middle of the action. Danny Boyle has made a meticulous movie that surpasses expectation. Two thumbs up to Dev Patel.

Go watch Slumdog Millionaire for its enthralling story. Go watch Slumdog Millionaire to support independent cinema. Go watch Slumdog Millionaire to join in the celebration called India. Or just go watch it for the sheer love of movie watching. It's worth more than the price of the ticket and the popcorn.

Jai Hind!