An open letter to Mohan Babu- The legend of Telugu film Industry

(oops...Did I just provide evidence for something???)

I think, Padma Shri (?) Dr Mohan Babu (MB) is truly a legend as he (self)proclaims. As old sayings say, one should realise one's own potential. MB did realise his potential- unlike other actors. In fact Many people were in awe when he received Padma Shri award. And I know many even expressed sigh of relief when High Court asked him to forfeit the award. But I do believe he is a legend. After watching this video, I dare those- who refuse to accept. Infact I can give substantial proof to what I am saying. 

Actor

MB started his career as a villain. He played extraordinary villain roles in 80% of his films. He lived upto the roles. He was just so natural that many people thought (me too..) he was not even acting. I was scared of MB as a child. I was so scared that  I never went to watch him on big screen. And even to this day when he acts! And I am still stuck to my resolution. He is one such actor in the industry, who thinks he is acting and he does! 

Telugu lover

You see unlike other heroes in telugu industry, MB truly stuck to telugu movies. You might think that he was never offered roles from bollywood...you might also think that he is not even known in bollywood. But I say- he loves telugu. He is so in deeply love with the language that he stuck to telugu throughout his life. The only other language that MB loved to talk/act was - the gibberish that he used pretty much in all movies. He even opened a school and included Telugu as a subject for all andhra kids and especially his daughter who finds it difficult to communicate/ talk Telugu. See the proof here. 

Father

He continued his legacy. He has a legendary lineage. I came to know in early 2000 that telugu industry and critics said that MB's sons can't fit as heroes. They highly criticised their looks. They also went ahead by saying that they possess poor acting skills. But MB was a true father. He never let his sons down. He himself produced their films and encouraged them in the industry. Though he went bankrupt couple of times, in his heart, he remained a proud father who appreciated his sons when industry continued to dislike and disapprove them. He proved that looks and acting do not matter. All that matters is love and then legacy and lineage. 

Equal opportunity employer

MB always believed in equal opportunity in movies. From Annapurna to Charmee, MB believed in giving opportunity to every heroine. He believed in hard work even if that calls for slapping female casts! Many people misunderstand him as someone with ego and ruthless behaviour. But perception differs. Even BBC misunderstood him. See here. 

No casteism in movies

Finally, from the recent denikaina ready movie controversy, I started believing in him strongly. He proved that caste is no bar in movies. Even though he was criticised for insulting certain community, he re-attacked them, told them they were there to just seek alms and fought back with his supporters. Let it take little damaging to the community or the people, he did stand by what he said. See here. 

Finally, before I finish my blog on MB and stop showering my kindness towards him, I strongly feel sad that he was asked to forfeit Padma Shri award which is given to honorable citizens of India who contributed towards society in one or the other way. I know it is rude and against rules to use the title in movies. I know Honorable High Court knows more than anyone, but still, MB just wanted to feel proud of his award. Just like his life, he wanted to showcase what he achieved. The same movie, that created quite a furor, in his life also made him forfeit his award. He shouldn't have been given the award if he was to see this day. What a dishonor! But MB please remember, you have an ardent fan here- who also thinks you continue to act and continues to think you can act. 

Chocolate hero who meltdown without a notice

(Image from Google Search)

Uday Kiran committed suicide. The very first thought that struck me was, "Alas! he is killed". My eyes became moist and so are my mother's and my friends'. We were never his fans. But he proved that a common man can make it big. Yet, he took his life. 

But who killed him? He committed suicide. It is evident. Even forensics can prove it. But really? Is he that weak to do so? The news channels are screaming and yelling at their pitch that he died due to family problems? One news channel reported that he died because he is under financial pressure. Another one went ahead to claim that he has differences in his married life. But what I fail to understand is, where were these people when he was killed careerwise a decade ago? 

Uday Kiran is an epitome of any middle class young boy, who dreamt of making it big into film industry. Like NTR dreamt 50 years ago. Like ANR dreamt 45 years ago. Like Ramanaidu dreamt 40 years ago. Like Chiranjeevi dreamt 30 years ago. Like many other legends, Uday was a young boy who came into the tinsel town with starry dreams. With budding acting skills, critics' whips and fans' demands, he paved a path for himself. He went on to grab awards, dreamy roles and duets in beautiful landscapes. Amidst all these dreams, came the proposal of chiranjeevi's daughter. Suddenly the star was high in career and personal life. 

Overnight his engagement was called off. Which is a very personal reason. But what was more surprising was, his career plunged into a valley and disappeared into oblivion. What I fail to understand here is, why the career of a young boy, whose engagement was called off, is no where to be seen? What had happened was his personal life. What does it have to do with movies? Why directors and producers ignored him? Why the same film industry who once ran behind him for appointments, shunned him. Really? Like the film industry never supported heroes with girlfriends out of wedlock? Like never supported actors whose engagements/weddings broke off? Never supported heroes who were in news for wrong reasons? Really?

No one wants to speak. No one wants to accept that, he was a potential threat to many upcoming heroes who are part of legacies and lineages. He doesn't have a father/babais (uncles), mother and brothers from film industry to support him. The depressing part of the ordeal is, even producers and directors proved to be dumb, deaf and blind. The actor was left on roads.

The film industry is definitely not the only reason why Uday Kiran is no more. But definitely played an important role in ending his life. Ending his career. For conspiracy. For brutality.

Its been 24 hours since the news broke out. Not a single so-called ivy-league actor from film industry like chiranjeevi, venkatesh, nagarjuna, the nandamuris or for that matter, any hero of this gen has commented on his death. It was just Murali mohan and character/junior artists who are expressing their condolences. Why is this? Is he so unimportant? Not to forget that Uday Kiran was a trendsetter. He brought fresh air and new life to movies in new millenium. He paved a way for rom-coms in Telugu. He gave life to many young/new directors, music directors and heroines. 

May his soul rest in peace. May the brutal minds behind his career realise their mistake. Even if no one is ready to accept, deep in their hearts, they know, they were instrumental  in his death. Deep in their hearts they know they killed him. Deep in their hearts they know, they ended the dreams of a young boy. Deep in their hearts, they know they will continue to do so...as long as audience hail their self proclaimed legacy. As long as audience are brainwashed. As long as audience fail to understand the difference between talent and blood relations. 

RIP my chocolate hero. I miss you. 

The $1 lesson

"Can I borrow your flip-flops?", asked my niece. I reluctantly gave her my new/ never used/ never planning to use/ but back up flip-flops  I was scared that she might end up bare foot wearing those. But, I suppressed my fears and let her wear them. she waved good bye and started walking to a different country. Yeah, you heard me right. She wore my flip-flops and walked to Canada from USA!

Who imagined that those yellow flip-flops that I bought from a dollar store will travel to a different country. Yeah, dollar store. Now don't be judgmental. I know where to shop and what to shop. You see, we don't have to spend $$$ on something that we can get just for $1. That is the beauty of America. You will get everything for every price. You just need to know where to buy and what to buy.

While the summer is on, I imagined myself in shorts and flip-flops like most of the americans. So, while I was in a dollar store, I came across these beautiful yellow flip-flops. They were bright and shiny and were screaming to grab them. I did. I was more than happy to purchase them for $1 and not spend $10 like other stores.

But hey wait, I never wore them. I feared their quality. I was too scared to end up bare foot in the middle of nowhere. So, I never wore them and they were lying in my closet for 2 months. While we were in Niagara with my nieces, after playing in the water and soaking ourselves, we realised all our clothes and shoes were wet. But my nieces had plans to go to Canada.

Well, when you are in Niagara on US side, if you have a valid visa (or if you are an american citizen), you can go to Canada on foot. Yeah! As simple as that. One can literally walk over the bridge and go to a different country. Well, in my case, I am an immigrant. For me, crossing borders is out of question. Since my nieces are US citizens, they wanted to visit Canada. And one of them wore my flip-flops and in fact visited a different country. After she came back in few hours, she returned my flip flops and said, they were comfortable but stained her feet with yellow.

I took my flip-flops back, put them in the car and started thinking. Well, who imagined that something thats worth $1 will actually visit 2 different countries! I started realising how I underestimated my dollar flip-flops. May be this is how we underestimate most of the people and many situations. Just like my dollar store flip-flops, we never know who is worth what! A lesson learnt at the cost of $1. Now, I am not going to wear those flip-flops at all. They remain iconic in my life!

                    

angel who went back to heaven

Her almond shaped popping eyes, just emerging nose, genuine smile and a face to die for- would leave an everlasting impression on anyone. When I saw her picture, I thought it was a hoax. Just like any other spam on FB, doing its useless rounds in profiles. But, when I saw it again, I did my bit research and damn- It was for serious. She was missing for 3 days and a frantic search has been going on! How did I miss the news? Was I sleeping for 2 days? Whatever, I laid my eyes on the piece and started tracking and praying for the baby's return. 

No, I am not her relative, neighbour and I am noway related to her. Like 1000s of others, I was also praying for her safe return. For 3 days I was totally swamped by her thoughts. What was  her grandmother going through before she died. Did she try to protect her? Did she cry? Did she try to fight? A poor lady who is baby sitting her grand child just lost her life. 

What are her parents going through? Grieving with loss of mother or frantically searching for the baby? How are they managing the hell that just fell on them? I just prayed and wished them some positive energy. Probably, the most that any of us could offer!

While I was sleepless and trying to update myself with any news in the middle of the night, everything changed with a small piece of news. 

Baby Saanvi found dead! 

My heart sank inside pumping the tears  uncontrollably and fueling my rage. But within no time, the murderer was also caught.  What a cold blooded heart he is born with. Does he belong to a cult called Cannibalism? May be! 

My heart went out for the poor little baby. I would not even let her walk fearing she might fall down while trying to move. She is one of those babies, whom you would want to talk about after meeting/seeing her in a mall and tell your family, how you saw a beautiful baby that day. She is one of those, whose face leaves an unforgettable imprint on your mind. She is one those whom you would fall in love in first sight. 

Saanvi.  

I will never forget her. She will remain in my heart forever. In everyones heart- FOREVER!

                         

My heartfelt condolences to the baby. Tears and prayers :(

Painfully mine

I lie on bed folding my legs. My knees touching my chin. Part of my pillow is wet with my tears. My hands curled around my stomach trying to stop the deep twining pain. I try to move, but I can't. I hear sounds- may be my mother/father/sister/husband asking me to stop crying. They lie to me often by consoling that the pain will fade away in few minutes. Yes, just few minutes! Few minutes of excruciating pain! But going through the ordeal every month is no joke. And the name of the monster is Endometriosis. 

***********************************************

“The boss is calling you”. I heard the voice. Fingers crossed. I locked my computer, moved my chair, straightened my dress and knocked the glass door. I saw my boss watching TV. Yeah, in a TV channel, you are expected to watch TV 24x7, interpret what other channels are airing and then develop better programs than them. In a way, you are not stealing the ideas but just developing new ones on similar grounds. He asked me to come in and I greeted him.

“Which project are you working on”, he asked me with a smile on his face. My boss, with whom I just follow protocols like wishing and reporting, is a sane and highly intelligent man in my eyes. I had never interacted with him, though I find my colleagues share a laugh with him quite often. I am a nerd for him and I am fine with it.

“The one on Environmental Issues and nothing much”, I said anticipating some new project.

“How is your health now? Are you feeling any better?”

“Yes sir. I am doing alright”.

“I want you to take leave for at least 6 months. I see you taking off every month for 2-3 days. I think this will not work. May be you should take leave for 6 months, get well completely and come back to work”

“I think I will be fine without taking leave too. However I will think about it. Anything else?”

“No. That’s all for now. Let me know what you have decided”

I walked upto my desk, unlocked my computer, typed a letter and submitted it in the HR.

After I started packing my stuff, the HR and my boss came to me and asked if I took the decision consciously.

“My problem will continue for life long. It is not a 6 months affair. You better hire someone who is hail and healthy. And I wish you will not do this to anyone else”. I uttered expecting them to read between lines. I did not inform anyone and walked out of office. I started my bike and tears began to flow. I cried all the way till home. It is troubling me again. How much ever I try to fight, it takes over me. A reason for my downfall. The reason for the downfall is Endometriosis. 

************************************************

I woke up from a blissful sleep. I never slept so deeply in ages. I realized I wasn’t at home. The ceiling was different. I am on a different bed. The smell is familiar. Looks like a hospital. It took a while for me to recollect why I was there. Just when I was about to move, I had excruciating pain in my body. Everywhere. The doctor walked in and sat next to me.

“You have lot of tissue. We tried to remove most of it, but we could not remove all. I guess you have to go through the pain for life”.

These were the words I have been expecting to hear or not hear for over a decade. Stage 4 Endometriosis-the very reason for my abnormal pain every month. Again Endometriosis. 

**********************************************

I was 13 when the trouble started in my life. That evening, I was studying for my final exams when the pain started reaching peaks. I told my mother and she helped me by giving all those home remedies. But nothing worked. I cried the whole night and my mother took me to the school next day, to write the exams. I came back in the evening and realized I reached puberty.

Puberty- the life of a teenager with a troublesome period. The saga continued every month. Pain, nausea, vomiting, passing out. I could never understand why I had to go through these things while my peers never complained about anything. Every month was a new story. Once, I passed out in the bus stop. Once, I vomited in the railway station. Once, I cried in the principal’s room. The pain is devastating. No painkillers can suppress it. I was put on heavy medication for my age. Yet, no relief.

The doctors used to say that, it was all in my mind and I need to put it out. But I never understood how come I have pain in my abdomen and the doctor says it is in my mind. There is no genetic reason as none in my family had this. I wonder why I get such stuff in life out of blue but never a lottery. The pain would just happen to me during my exams, family occasions, travel and every time. It always hampered me from socializing. Writing exams. Attending interviews. I always met people with a heartburn, swollen belly, dizzy eyes and crumpled walk because of the pain and the painkillers.

I lost jobs because I often fall sick. At least through my colleagues’ understanding, I get fever or flu every month. It was not easy for me to discuss about my syndrome with my male colleagues. The bosses would never understand it either. They have wives, sisters and children but no one suffers this much. So, they would brush it off. It is stigmatic to explain why I need leave. While some thought, I take off because I am bored to work, some would assume I bluff talking about flu every month. I used to get all those expert suggestions from my colleagues who would recommend to have a full body check up in hospital, eat fruits every day, do yoga and be positive and some extremists even suggested I get married or have children for mental peace. I still doubt this option!

I could never explain to anyone how a tissue is feeding on my hormones inside my body and growing up at its will and troubling me every month. No one will understand. There were certain occasions that made me realize that -as a woman, I am strong, independent and confident. But this pain suppresses me to the core and makes me vanish for days leaving no traces of my existence. No, I cannot let it happen to me. Pain is an understatement for what I go through every month. I need to overcome this. Overcome something that alters my personality. Overcome something that kills me. Overcome something that weakens me and makes me cry. Just overcome it.

It took nearly 10 years for me to understand the dynamics of the pain and my very own lifestyle. I slowly started to enjoy my painful days by sleeping, reading books, catching up on movies that I missed. I realized that, by lying on bed I could do 100s of things. I no more cry of pain. May be because I know I have to deal with it. The pain never pains me anymore. My tolerance level increased in folds. May be the very reason why I never cry because of any physical pain. Now, I have my own time every month. 3 complete days for myself. I read, watch movie or just sleep. I eagerly look forward for those 3 painful days, where the pain forcefully makes me take rest. I overcame a chronicle that is going to be with me for another 20 years. I am assured, for another 20 years, that no matter what, I have my own 3 days every month- painfully mine.  

Oh woman whats happening here?

Just when I was watching the news the Sunita Williams' space expedition, I couldnot stop the temptation to read about a girl who was molested by a mob. Seriously? A girl and more than 20 men? What kind of mardangi is it, to actually take advantage of the situation where a girl is helplessly screaming for help, a cameraman shoots the whole incident, passers by watch it as an entertainment, the mobsters strip the girl and feel happy to be screened, the TV channel airs it as an exclusive event! Wow, what an event for the whole nation to talk about a woman? 

Just fews days pass by and I watch another news clipping about a suicide of an air hostess with a suicide note stating a minister to be the reason of her death. Her family bleeds during the funeral and cries to arrest the minister. And there he goes- Whooosh. The minister disappears without a trace. We never miss a chance to write about any politician even if he eats chicken tikka masala, and here is a scamster, who stands a reason to the death of a girl and is reported by the media as missing. Missing? Are you kidding me. Hell, the word is absconding! 

Days pass by and I read a news about a Lawyer in Mumbai brutally killed by the security guard of the building. Bam! Security guard kills her as he had developed a lust. He makes every attempt to close the CC cameras, switches off the electricity and takes the help of his friend to kill her. I thought she lived in an apartment with full "security". 

And then another news about a rape, a married woman burnt to death and the stories continue to pour.

Oh India, I always thought women are safe here. I myself felt secure. But what is happening now? Why a woman is so vulnerable in a nation where woman is worshipped- at least -definitely in books?

I never know if I have to feel happy for Sunita Williams or shed some tears for those innocent lives who are victimised for no fault of theirs!

Oh woman whats happening here?

where is my India

"Central jaana hai..kitna?"

"60"

"kya??? jaake aane ka nahi hai, sirf jaane ka bhai"

"haa madam..60 hotha..."

i walked away as i never want to pay 60 bucks for less than 3 km distance..

"boliye madam kitna dete..."

"25.."

autowala looked at me as if i was trading for his liver...and replied in harshest of voices i ever heard.."meter pe 30 hota. 25 mein kya aata madam??"

"theek hai fir meter daalo...."

the autowala took it as a challenge to prove me wrong that it is not 25.

finally i reached my destination and the meter showed 28. 

"dekha madam...aap bole 25,,,meter mein 28 hua.."

"arey bhayya 25 se 28 kaafi achcha hai...aap tho 60 maang rahe the,,,woh kya naa insaafi hai...."

autowala took 30 bucks and zoomed off!

This was everyday ordeal in Hyderabad. either stand, wait for bus, get soaked in sun, swim in traffic and pay 10 bucks or just get into the autorickshaw and pay how much ever they ask. sometimes they might just quote three to four times of the actual price. either pay and suffer or don't pay and still suffer. 

This is the fate of a vehicle-less "me" in hyderabad! where is my India that I left a year and half ago.

coolie asks me 80 bucks for one suitcase!

the paper boy takes 6 bucks to sell the paper (i worked for it) that screams on front page saying Rs 3. 

i need to buy water bottle for Rs 17 and if i am in railway station it may range anywhere from 20-25.

1 kg of vegetables costed me Rs 60 from a roadside vendor.

the sickest of all is, i ended up paying service charge in all hotels which i never heard of!

These figures seem to be in single and double digits. But what bothers me more is, how can a middle class family survive in India now? Poor families are anyways suffering. God save them :(. 

I might have returned from USA. But I am not rich to blow my money on AC taxis and luxury hotels. I wondered how a common man lived in India?

Where is the country that I left? Why everyone wants to earn beyond their limits? From paperboy to politician, every person is trying to earn that extra buck in a wrong way. The corruption just infiltrated to the grassroots. nobody cares about those who live on just salaries! how will a common man who lives on a monthly salary, survives in India? 

Everything is pricy. Everything is costly. Everything is beyond reach. In the 2 months of my stay, I had to fight with autowalas, vegetable vendors, paper boys, coolies, vendors in railway stations, road rash morons, the queue breakers..and who not. i sounded like a screaming-yelling woman fighting with every moron on the road. Finally it just resulted in a throat soar and nothing else. 

India was not perfect when I left, but it was not this imperfect too! 

I miss my old India....Jai Hind.

Reservations? What for?

Why do you need a reservation? In trains, buses, planes, we need it because there is too much crowd and we want to secure our place. But it is not competition where your talent is tested and you are selected. So, how does this theory apply in Colleges, jobs and other places?

India is a Secular country, accommodating all sections of people. There is a huge competition every where. But why does one need reservation in Educational institutions, Jobs and for that matter in leading the nation- politics?

How does a religion, caste and sect rule these things? We are in 21st century where every person travels in the same train/car/plane and sit next to each other. We hardly care who our neighbour is though we own the apartment and live forever. Then why on the earth do we have to know or care about which caste/sect does a man belong to? When there is no discrimination about caste system, why does one need a reservation based on that? 

Let me tell you my own experience in life. My classmate who got a worst rank in the entrance exam, paid no fee, traveled to classes in a car and wore the best clothes, ate good food and lived well. She paid no fee because she is born into a particular caste/sect and she doesn't have to bother about her brains, knowledge or skills.

But, I was holding good rank, yet paid fees, walked for a long distance as my father couldn't provide for Autos or personal vehicle, took lunch box to the college as I had no money to buy food. I am not jealous here, but I am angry on why this discrimination? If at all there is competition then why can't it be fair and healthy? If at all there is reservation, why can't it be based on the economic/financial status of a family? How does caste/sect rule the education system? What kind of Justice is this to poor families?

I am scared to go see a doctor or consult a lawyer or get my house built by an engineer who studied on a reservation seat. How can I trust the medical skills of a doctor who got some 100000 rank and still managed a quota seat? What knowledge does he/she has?  I feel pity for those poor families, who can't afford to study despite having knowledge and skills.

It is a shame on us to accept such seats even in this age, where we fight for equality on a global platform. Let it be a fair and healthy competition. Fight for justice. Grow up!

4 on a scooter

"sit down. I can't see. move ahead. Ohh-don't move. close your eyes when there is dust" some common commands often uttered by my father while driving. he is not an F1 racer, but driving a scooter with a kid in the front- sitting on the tip of the seat, another in the back with hands around his waists- sandwiched between wife and himself, and wife at the back guarding the kid with one hand around the kid and the other holding the "stefani" (spare tire) -was no less than a circus feat. 2 seats but 4 people seated on them- Another luxury of a middle class family. No, we are not poor to walk or to travel by buses. We are not rich to buy a car or take an auto rickshaw. We are from middle class and we are pretty comfortable to squeeze ourselves and "adjust" in just 2 seats. We can stretch once we get down or take frequent breaks while driving for a long distance (more than 15kms). In between, we also buy veggies and put them in the front storage or underneath the seat onto the left. A typical middle class-mode of transport. May be thats how, I learnt to "adjust", "compromise" and "share". 

My father and mother would allow us to change our seats. Until we grew taller (I am 5'7'' and my sister is 5'9"), we tried to travel together on our Bajaj Priya scooter. In early 80s, having a scooter was a luxury. Yes, not many families who resided in colonies (which are slowly diminishing) had any vehicle. We were often called as the 'white scooter family'. Or my father would say, "just enter the street and keep walking. Once you see a white scooter parked outside the house, thats our house!" Such an easy navigation technique which doesn't require any GPS or Maps. All it needs is a mark and that's our scooter. 

Now, why am I talking about scooter here? May be because am reliving those good old days and remembering how a family of four travelled to different places within city limits together on a scooter. This particular machine took us to schools, hospitals, helped us in socialising and always made sure we 4 are together. 

One thing that I distinctly remember was the horn of our scooter. We would say from a distance that my father was coming home. My mother always wondered how we could recognise our scooter horn? May be thats the bond between horn and ear. The sound of the horn would alert us and we would pretend to either study or start having food to make a picture in front of my father. That horn also had  many meanings. If my father blew it twice, that means, we should hurry up and come out soon. If my father honked it once, that means he is home. If my father honked it several times, that means "kisi ki baji". 

incidents like puncture, breakage of clutch wire, oozing oil, airless tire were so common that they virtually made me a mechanic. I would help my father in fixing a flat tire, or changing oil. I knew how to open the oil tank and how to much to fill up. Since, the scooter had gears, my father made a rule that he would buy me a "sunny" only after I drive the scooter and also make a turn without keeping my legs down. Alas! I did it. So, in a way, my scooter helped me in my promotion too. I always miss it especially the small rides with my father to the nearby veggie market or a small shopping center. 

Nowadays when I see the HOV (High Occupancy Vehicle) boards on US highways I can't stop laughing. The sign board says HOV 2 that means, any vehicle which has 2 or more passengers have special lanes which are often vacant. In those terms, what is our scooter called as? a plane? no wonder!

Icing on cake - Our scooter had number plate which says- AAG- that means 'Fire' (aag in hindi)

(courtesy- google images)

new blog

I could never take pictures when I was a kid. Because, we never had a camera. Mind you, my father was a hobby sake photographer with a tripod, camera and bla bla in 70s. But after 2 girls, he thought he should save money and not waste on film roles and developing them. If only there was a digi cam then!

So, I never got a chance to take pictures while growing up. After getting married, my husband showed me his Nikon SLR and my madness came out as a volcano- erupting from the deep. Since it is a digi cam and I need not worry about the film roles and batteries, I started clicking like a maniac. The result is -

www.swatspics.blogspot.com

Enjoy my pics. 

Copy cats- excuse me please.