The Paris Diaries

You have to believe me when I tell you; I had no grand belief that my holiday was going to be fantastic. Simply putting, I am quite miserable without my wife. I had the likes to Piya telling me that all that emotion was bullshit – the moment I reached Paris, all I’d want to do was sit by a café (outside, not inside – Parisian style) and watch people. Watch people? Like I can’t watch people from my window in Mumbai!! Or watch 100x that number walk by bandstand every evening.

So, all I was looking forward to was the concert of a lifetime (for me)… the only reason I was traveling was for the concert. The other days were just being spent experiencing the history (again, not lifestyle) of the city… biding my time.

The boredom got to me so much that I went all out looking for places/ things to see. Most places were truly inspiring and awesome… some were quite over-rated really.

I’d love to come back to Paris with Renu one day… and that’s why I have purposely left out a few ‘must-dos’.

So minus all the history and cityscape… what do I like/ hate about Paris?

Let me start with the Hate (kindly note the usage of the verb). Also when I use words like everyone, no one, Parisians, French… I admit there are exceptions to the list. Paris may be a great city, but its people suck. I mean the fucking Parisians are the rudest people I've ever met. None of them speak English, and even if they did, they pretended they couldn’t understand a word you are saying. Even sign language is like a form of medieval dance they can’t decipher. Everything has to be asked again and again… I mean what the fuck. Grow up and get out of your stupid shell. Its like they enjoy watching others suffer to make them understand.

One glaring anomaly of the whole understanding English: when I was waiting in queue to get into the stadium (I waited 6 and half hours… arrived early so I could get the wrist band for the pit area), I tried to strike a conversation with a few people. None of them could speak English. But when the concert began, they sang to every chorus with all the conviction you expect out of a Springsteenian. For a passing moment, I thought to myself, ‘Do these assholes understand what he writes, or are they just crazy fans who like the image Bruce portrays?’. I love Bruce because of his writing, his work ethic (when he gets on stage, it is the best you can expect) and his view on political and social matters. Do these guys understand? I was stumped for a while. Some of them were singing along in tune but with their own similar sounding lyrics!!

Talking about rude, the French (Parisians) have a national pastime they enjoy without giving a damn to the world… smoking. Parisians pursue smoking like a fucking hobby. Like no other enthusiast of any kind pursues his passion. They light up everywhere and anywhere (barring designated areas like indoor and metros. Thank Heavens!!). They are so rude that they smoke into your face. And you can’t tell them anything because… wait… they think it’s rude to tell someone to blow away from you!! Fucking twisted. I used to get pissed every time I went out… and to humor myself, I’d make up my own jokes. Like: How did the Nazis track the French during WWII? Ans: By their trail of cigarette butts. There are 1000s of butts all over your vision at all times… for a non smoker it’s just sickening to be here. But then again, there are stupid Indian cunts who think the French are cool and sophisticated.

They smoked while we waited in line for six and a half hours (at the concert). They smoked during the concert… especially that old fart (looser biker types) and his retarded fuck-object. She was a midget with a funny shaped face and hands… kind of like those who are born when incestuous siblings make out. Bitch… for being the only bitch spoilsport of a fantastic night.

Apart from the attitude and smoking (which also is an attitude problem), I didn’t have much time or inclination of discover this weird lot. A small reason for coming to Paris was to see what Fred left behind. There is not a single aspect about the city that is in Fred… which is why he is such a good guy. Maybe its his upbringing… maybe it’s the choices he has made.

And what kind of place has daylight till about 11pm? No wonder they fought so many wars… too many hours of daylight to strategize or go fornicate.

Now for what I like about France: They have taken pains to look after their monuments. The RATP system is fantastic. Within a day of looking at the map and hopping on and off trains (across lines… etc), it becomes such a user friendly system. The Exits (Sortie) are marked very well too… Exit here for this place and there for that place. The supermarkets are good. The shopping is great. The choice one has for music and movies (home video) rocks. Also, you get to buy adult-content magazines at the Metros.

The local TV station is both good and bad. Bad because it’s totally French (barring BBC World) and good because one gets to see frontal nudity in late night films (sounds stupid as there is still daylight at 11pm).

There are not many good looking people here. Wearing good clothes is not a virtue as people have no choice but to buy good cuts. The readymade cuts are really good. And unlike the Americans, the French are not as obese.

It costs 10Euros to watch a film at a below average quality cinema… that’s fucking expensive.

All in all, would I want to live in this city and raise a family here? No.

A Letter to Night

Dear Night,

One October night in 1999, I went to watch a film with my new colleagues from UTV. I had just moved to Bombay, and was totally in love with the idea of spending my evenings in Colaba. We took a bus from our office near Powai to Andheri... a train from Andheri to Churchgate and finally a cab from Churchgate to Colaba. Yes, we took a lot of pains to get to that Cinema. My colleagues went in... while I stayed out looking at the 'Next Change' posters. I like this medium a lot.

Back in the hall, munching on my small pack of pop corns, I watched that film with my mouth half open. There were portions of the film that scared me. Till then, the only film I liked with Bruce Willis in it was Pulp Fiction. But this film was good. I mean GOOD.

By the time, I figured Dr. Malcolm Crowe was (infact) dead, it was too late. It was for the first time that I was so sucked in by the story that I missed the obvious give-aways in the narrative. I loved this. That a film-maker could do this in his first film. And when The Sixth Sense ended... there was a momentary black screen, followed by a 'Film by Night Shyamalan' - I saw nearly the entire audience give you a standing ovation.

Then you made Unbreakable and Signs. Critics weren't too friendly with you, but I still regard them as entertaining films. There are certain moments of redemption in these films that I truly dig in cinema.

Maybe you became too obsessed with trying to be yourself, but The Village was (up until that point) my worst experience at the cinema (maybe you can add the Matrix trilogy as well). I promised myself NEVER to watch your films again. When Lady in the water released, I was living in Singapore and hitting the cinemas every weekend... sometimes twice a week. I chose to give it a pass... and rightly so. A year later, on a lazy Sunday evening, I caught the film on HBO. I was forcing myself to keep on watching despite every grey cell in my brain telling me to switch off and go to bed. When you made your cameo as a blocked-out writer, I had to blow the whistle man.

This year (2008), you visited India. To promote The Happening which was produced by my former employers (1999, UTV). The reviews sucked. My cinephile friend Akshay told me the film suffered an identity crisis. He rated it 2 on 5. I still took my pregnant wife and drove 45 minutes to watch it. It was a waste of my time and money. Just so that you know, I don't make my money the way you do. I work very hard and use my brain a lot. I channelize my talents in such a way that I achieve results both for my employers as well as myself. So, it pains me when you rob me off my earnings and give me a half-baked 'Duh, Whats up Doc' trash that you like to pass of as film-making. It is shocking how people (me included) still go to watch your films. You are surviving on the goodwill you generated back in 1999. So, don't complain if critics and certain audiences are too harsh on you. Don't fret if they compare your early work to your later-day crap. I feel robbed off my money and time. You should have seen the look on the faces of the audience as the film ended. I heard someone mention... 'it shouldn't be a film by Night Shyamalan, it should be called a Documentary by Night Shyamalan.'

A few fear-inducing moments cannot be the only reason one goes to watch a film. For that I rather watch a video of Amy Winehouse on VH1 . Atleast its free. Seriously, the best work you have done in the past two years has to be your special appearance in Season 4 of Entourage.

This time, I promise to keep my word. No more of Night in my life. And I will deter anyone else from watching one too.

Arun

How to kill your brand with a boatful of Lard

There are a lot of rumors floating around about how Tommy Hilfiger is a racist... and that he said stuff like if he knew blacks and Hispanics would wear his stuff, he wouldn't have made them so nice.

What would he say if he saw this?

A Long time Coming

I've been meaning to write everyday.. but I've been so busy at work.

The thought that my company is coming up with 5 films is exhilarating. Then it hits you... 5 films to market... in their own unique way. And who is in charge of it?

What makes matters really daunting is that a lot is hanging in the balance on this job (and how well I do it). Renu and I have been discussing the possibility of downgrading our social status from DINKs to SIMKs after our little bundle makes her debut. Both of us want someone to be at home with the kiddo... and since she hates working more than I do, I'll go hunt for the food. Classic evolutionary species we will be.

A lot has happened in the past few weeks that had me occupied (apart from work and doing a Clouseau on Renu's tummy... looking for that little kick). Chelsea finished second-best in England and Europe... and as most may agree, second-best is nothing. Man United triumphed - but a lot of credit for that goes to that irritating Ronaldo. It would be great to see him leave England for Spain. Without him, Man United don't really stand much of a chance next year. I mean 40 odd goals in one season!!

The Talwar murder case... and the other one in Mumbai involving the TV Exec. We are learning a lot from these foreign channels, I say. Discovery teaches our kids all about sex, drugs and murder. We should ban this foreign invasion. On another note... I can't wait to see Aarushi's killer go to the gallows. And her mother... something about her I can't put my finger on. And what can you say about a couple who have sex (twice) in the presence of a dead body (freshly killed by one of the them)?Obama took the Democratic Presidential Nomination. What a year this has been. Many feel that the long drawn tussle between Hill and Bar could be detrimental to the long term unity of the party - and their supporters, considering that elections are just round the corner. A black man in the white house is something I never thought I'd live to see. I thought it was more impossible than a woman in the oval office (although Renu disagrees). Bruce for Veep!!!

My tickets to Paris are booked. Accommodation is also settled. I'm on the way to the promised land. On 27th June, Parc Des Princes is the Promised Land. Only the visa is required now. The itinerary is not done yet - just the concert, Normandy, and Disneyland are for sure.Had a few honorable mentions in a depressing blog of late. Why can't some people get over rejection? Reminds me of a program I watched on Discovery Channel recently - it talked about the stages of grief (sorrow, or in this case - rejection): Denial - Anger - Bargaining - Depression and finally - Acceptance. Looks like this chap reached stage 2 already. Can't wait to see how stages 3,4 and 5 pan out. Speaking of blogs, look out for my boss' blog soon. He promises a good read. And it won't be used as a medium to crib and throw muck at people in the industry.

Renu and I were discussing the fuel price hike this morning - on our way to work. Seriously, does this 'aam aadmi' crap make any economic sense? There is a flat increase in fuel prices for petrol, diesel and cooking gas. So it does not matter if you are me or my maid, your cooking gas is priced the same. It does not matter whether you drive a fancy Mercedes into a gas station or a Logan - your diesel is priced the same. I may be wrong here - but wouldn't variable pricing make more sense? Charging the rich (not more but) as per their income should be a better solution. My cooking gas cylinder is priced the same as a cylinder bought by Taj Lands End. I don't understand this.

Anyway, the monsoons are here... and we are in the 'here we go again' mode. Muck on the roads, snail-pace traffic, drivers suffering from all sorts of inferiority complexes honking away... but nothing beats the sight of the rain. Lashing against our windows at home. Amazing!!

Speaking of traffic jams - imagine being stuck in a moment you can't get out of, staring at this poster. Whoever thinks this kid is cute needs a trip to the optician. And whoever passed this picture for a giant hoarding needs to be put in the same room with Chisy, Aarushi's Dad, Maria Susairaj and Alistair Pereira for the rest of his sordid life.

Have not discovered much in music of late... movies neither. Watched Indiana Jones - wished I hadn't. Watched Narnia (Caspian) - thought I was reading the bible back in St. Joseph's Coonoor. Watched Iron Man - loved it. Looking forward to whatever I can get of the summer releases in India.

Made a few trips of Kareem's of late. Their Nalli Nihari rocks man!! Each time I devour that dish, I know why I left Singapore :)

Honk for Obama!!