Why Google Chrome is embarrassing...

Here is a snapshot of my friend's screen (taken very secretly, I pressed the Print Screen when he was looking away). Needless to say, he won't use Google Chrome when his mother is around...

(click to enlarge)

Why Gunda rocks and Rock On sucks

I was surprised to receive a call from a friend (a long distance call from India no less), only to recommend, nay, strongly recommend watching Rock On. Then talking to my aunt over Skype, she too deemed it as a must watch.
With two recommendations under its belt, it was imperative for me to watch the movie. As the story unrolled, I was rolling from a state of dizziness to a deep slumber. I vaguely remember that in the end I was desperately trying to keep my eyes open. Congratulations to the producer-director for producing as good a turd as Rang De Basanti.
While watching this piece of tripe, I was constantly reminded of the epic movie Gunda. It’s really hard to be creative these days in the era marked by blatant piracy and copyright infringement, Gunda managed to defy the masses by bringing out original dialogues. While the dialogues may not be accepted by the elite (sample: chaadar hoti hai odhne ke liye, chhatri hoti hai kholne ke liye aur chokri hoti ha chhedne ke liye), but kudos to the sheer originality of the writer, director and producer.
Contrasting it with Rock On, there is not even a single dialogue worth its salt. The film revolves around a group of hyperactive twenty something boys (Arjun Rampal in twenties –yeah right!), who could not sing in their childhood. Fast forward: Despite the fact that the protagonist goes on to become a millionaire with a palace to live in and a really beautiful wife, he remains gloomy and cut-off only because he could not sing in the rock band. Fast forward to end: they are ultimately able to perform and this makes everyone happy, including me – I was so bored that I could hardly wait to see the end and get out ASAP.
Gunda, which has acquired a cult status in the previous ten years, on the other hand is an action filled movie. There is no romance, no coochy-coo talk and no comedy (except for dialogues). Mithun does what he is best at, beating the villains every now and then. Shakti Kapoor does what he is best at, raping women (bhaiyya bhaiyya, kya rape karna buri baat hai?) and everyone plays their part to perfection. The climax of the movie is better than that of Star Wars, no special effects and no fancy weapons, the villains arrive in hundreds of auto-rickshaw and are beaten to pulp single handedly by Mithun. At the end, no one except Mithun survives, not even his lady love, his family or any of the villains – how cool is that!
The verdict is as simple as it could get in years; don’t watch Rock On – save your money, save yourself from the agony, save the film industry by not buying/downloading any CD or DVD (original or pirated) of Rock On. Instead, simply type Gunda in Google and watch the full movie on Google Videos!

Old Memories

Songs stir old memories, most of the time as I have known people, songs have made them weep or sad at least. People also become happy or nostalgic after listening to few songs, but there are rare instances when a song has brought back a memory so funny that you laughed for so long that people around you considered taking you to a doctor.
I listened to one song today, called Honth Rasiley. Here is the link:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=301IwZPsQQI

Notice how the people smack their lips when they say honth rasiley, this is where the story starts.

Place: Chamba, Uttaranchal, India
Date: Early 2008

We had an off-site sponsored by our office. Getting drunk was allowed and booze was so much abundant that some of my colleagues replaced water with alcohol. Some smelled so strongly of alcohol that I suspect they even brushed and bathed in alcohol.
It is in such sozzled state man commits foolish acts of acting wise. At night time, at peak of party when DJ was playing the mentioned song at its loudest, one of the alcoholic pest comes along with a torch and asks me to watch him dance. I have to admit that alcohol does something to strengthen the nerves, the so-called dance of his involved doing the same lip-smacking action in front each girl and flashing the torch at their... ahem... b's and b's.
As if this was not enough, few more drones who smelled like gutter water, came along to provide him support and demand more action. “Flash at her b$$$”, “Flash at her a##” were the requests floating in air. The drones were ostensibly being very discreet with their demand. Sadly, discreetness leaves the moment alcohol takes over control, the result was that their barely audible whispers were enough to wake up a sleeping lioness seventy kilometers away.
Hearing such whispers a girl sitting near me (others were dancing or drunk) got up and went away, and that was embarassing for me because I was only at a wrong place at a wrong time. I too had had enough and hence decided to leave, but alas, the way fate takes turns! I was walking back to my room when a friend, who hardly drinks came up to me in a sad state. The sadness was induced by alcohol, my presence must have done something to aggravate his sadness because on seeing me, he started weeping. Yet, when I thought that this was the worst it could get, fate took me to deeper waters. My friend thought that his weeping has made me suspect his masculinity and hence, as a proof, he delivered the ultimate punchline “do you think I am weeping so much because I am a girl (sobbing in between), no sir I am not (sob), should I show you my penis?”. That unsolicited offering did not stir me as much, as the fact that the same girl, who had left the dance floor, was standing within an earshot. Although it was night, but you could have seen me glowing red with embarrassment.
That was yesterday, when I was embarrassed, today when I look at things in retrospect – the mere mention of song is enough to bring a smile on my face. Hope that you enjoy too!


PS: events told are real, however, it did not happen to me but to my friend CD. I thought it was much better to relate it as if it happened to me than to write in third person.