THE WAR WITHIN...

The sea is a calm surface of blue. The waves hit the shore, unhurried and slow, almost as if kissing the sand and then receding back to its home to disappear into the vast debris that the sea is. The sky is dark yet clear of clouds, reminiscent of a war that had taken place not long ago but now presenting the calmness that entails peace. The clouds have receded to fight another war at another place, leaving the city gloomy but optimistic, battered but calm. For now at least, the Rain God has agreed to a ceasefire.

The boy stands near the shore, observing the sea gulls fight for their share of the fish.He looks out to the hill standing in the middle of the sea, unshaken and unperturbed by the waves that crash against it, however angry those waves may seem. He stands there, his hands transfixed on his hips, his eyes gazing at the sights in front of him, like a soldier observing the enemy fortress before breaching it. His calm demeanor doesn't reflect the war going on within him...a war to break free, to claim independence, to win back his own life. The waves come and kiss his feet bowing as if bowing down to a soldier far more braver than them. The waves are constantly at war with the shore, trying to claim another piece of land for their own, but even the waves realize today that the boy's war is greater than their own.
For there can never be another bigger war than the one which a person has with his own self.

The boy now walks along the shore, the waves still by his side, observing the imprints of his feet on the sand as he goes past them. He is leaving a life behind. Suddenly a sea gull comes in and pecks at his feet and before he can react the sea gull has flown off with a new fish in between its teeth. The boy continues to walk, unperturbed by the things outside him but disturbed by the thoughts within. The sea is calm and serene but he is at war. And yet, he realizes, there couldn't be a better battlefield for a man at war with himself. The dark sky, the calm sea, the wet sand-the clouds that had taken the city and the sea hostage for several hours but had now receded so that more personal battles could be fought.

The boy moves on, his hands now deep in his pockets, his hair now ruffled by the breeze blowing in from the opposite end. His gaze though remains fixated ahead, unwavering, uncompromising. Today, his eyes will not blink. Today, his feet will not retreat. Today, his belief will not waver. Another wave comes in and touch his feet and for the first time he notices how cold the water is. But it does not bother him. Like a fact he had not noticed before but now that he has, one that does not affect him. He moves on, cold waves or not. He observes a young couple a little distance away from him, sitting next to each other, their right feet co-jointed with each other, their hands folded on their knees, their gaze moving from each other to the sea-talking, sharing and sometimes stealing a kiss. He walks on, the romance in the midst of the war not affecting him, for he has left love far behind now. Today, he does not long for a companion. Today, he does not not wish that he had someone he could kiss, someone he could make love to, someone with whom he could share his life. Today, he will not feel alone.

A sign post comes in front of him. He looks up to notice that the sign says 'STOP.' He walks on, ignoring the sign post, like it never stood there. Today, he will not be stopped. He turns again now, looking out the vast sea in front of him. Its empty, devoid of the people who are usually found jumping and frolicking in it, for the rain has scared them away. The rain though has not scared him. He is here, alone, devoid of any apprehensions, bereft of any fears, for today he will claim his freedom. The war goes on but he knows the end is near. He can feel it. With every step he takes, with every imprint of his feet in the sand, he feels his emancipation coming closer. The phrase 'It smells like victory' had never been more literally true.

He now closes his eyes and takes a step back. He thinks of his parents, those that had loved him and yet had never understood him. He now opens his eyes and looks out to the sea. His parents don't control him anymore. He now closes his eyes again and takes a few more feet back. He thinks of the job that he hated, the boss he despised and the coffee that made him want to vomit after taking a sip. He opens his eyes again. The hill stands in front of him. defiant to its core. He feels tall. Taller than he ever has in his life, stronger than he had ever thought he could be, more defiant than the hill in front of him. He could move a mountain today if he wanted to. The eyes close again and the feet recede further away from the shore. He thinks of the life that he will forever be leaving behind, of the comforts that he will not be able to rely on anymore, of the people he will not have to suffer anymore. He opens his eyes again to the sigh of a horde of sea gulls sweeping into the sea and taking flight again into the vast emptiness of the sky.For the first time today, a smile spreads across his lips. He feels like he can fly. His heart is now set free from everything that had ever stopped him from living the life that he wanted. His heart is free from the bondage of the family that refused to understand him, from the shackles of the society that confined him, from the slavery of the people who could not stand by him. He now knows that there is no greater love than the love for one own self. That you are born to live your own life and not fulfill obligations. That divinity exists not just in helping others but also in helping yourself.

He opens his arms in the air. He moves, he moves like he is serenading the sky. Like he is romancing the sea. Like he is making love to the clouds and the waves. And they are all aware-aware of his love for them, and engulf him in their arms, for he is theirs now, theirs to behold, to love, to scold. For he is free. Just like them. Free spirits that bide by no rules and understand no limits. For theirs is the fiefdom of the entire world. And wherever they go, the people shall respect them, be afraid of them and pay homage to them for they know no limits. For their spirit cannot be broken. And mere mortals can only watch them in awe. And he is no mere mortal today. He is a free spirit. Unbounded by the laws of the universe. And then he begins to run. He runs towards the unwavering sea, dancing with the sky, his feet unchained at last. He rips his clothes off one by one, unperturbed by his own naked self or by any of those watching him, for he will not be stopped today. As he picks up speed, he feels the win engulf his naked body, embracing his free self. And then he jumps into the water, naked in body and spirit, his soul born again, emancipated forever. The war has been won. The clouds can come back again. There are no more shackles. There are no more chains. Its just him.

Naked. Alone. Free.

A walk to the gallows...

I remember the first time my dad took me out to teach me how to ride a cycle. I remember perfectly that distinct moment when dad let go of the cycle and I tried to control the handle and guide the cycle in the direction I wanted as if the cycle was supposed to follow my command. I remember that first fall, the tumbling from the bike, the grazing of my skin against the ground, the flesh scratching as tiny trickles of blood oozed out. I realized at that moment that not everything was under our control. As the tears loomed down my eyes, I remember my dad picking me up in his arms, slowly patting me on the head and saying-'one day you will be able to control that cycle with just your thoughts.' And I did. I learned to ride that bike and take it in the exact direction I wanted, controlling it as per my will, speeding up and slowing down as I demanded. It was exhilarating. The experience of controlling something that had caused you hurt earlier, submitting it to your will and deriving pleasure out of it. It was like I had tamed a wild beast. And I had thought then, as I drove the bike down the lanes I knew so well, that I could control anything with just the power of my thoughts if I wanted to. Even life.

I was wrong.

For you are never completely in control of your thoughts.

My name is Luke Gallows.And I die today. Yes-Gallows is my second name and as the people around me now say, as an ironic joke, 'I was born for the Gallows.' I didn't see the funny side earlier. Thought it was highly insensitive of the people. But I see the funny side now. And sometimes I even manage to smile. At 5:30 PM, 27th of March 2008, by the order of the state of California, my life will be ended for the heinous crimes that I had committed. Its 3 PM now. In exactly one hour, the execution squad consisting of 6 guards will walk into my cell and take me for my final walk. A walk to the gallows. And I wait. I wait patiently.

There are several memories that are forever seeped in a man's mind. Memories that take shape and and remain with you and cannot be wiped out even by the passage of time. The memories differ from person to person. But some of those memories are universal. The birth of your child, your marriage, your first job interview, the day you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with some one, the first time you make love to a woman. Universal truths that hardly change.

Jennifer Francis. The first woman I ever made love to. I remember every moment, every little detail of that night. I was 19 then, a college sophomore, madly in love with the girl with the deep blue eyes. We had been dating for 6 months before she said she was ready. I didn't mind waiting. I was in love and I could have waited forever. I still remember vividly her red dress, the expensive french perfume and those small ear rings. I remember kissing her lips, feeling the touch of her hand, undressing her slowly as if in a trance. I remember the touch of her soft smooth skin against mine, her small breasts as I kissed them, the feeling of a sensation beyond pleasure as I entered her. I remember the words she said to me as we lay next to each other after making love, deprived of clothes, our body and our soul bared naked to each other. "I love you," she had whispered as we looked at each other. It was the first time a woman had ever said those words to me. "I love you too," I had whispered back. And so we made love again that night. And again.

My last meal was served at 2:00 PM. It consisted of a Medium rare steak with A1 Steak Sauce, fried chicken breasts and thighs and a bowl of fruit salad. In my later on years, I had become health conscious and had resorted to avoid fried food except on those special occasions when I felt like indulging myself. But as a child I used to love gorging on the food that mother used to cook for us. I loved the turkey she made on Thanksgiving and her tarts were always something I couldn't resist. But it really was the steak and the fried chicken that got to me-a meal I would insist on having at least once a week despite the so called unhealthy tagged labeled to it. I was a kid who loved eating and luckily I didn't put on weight easily so I was unaware of the calories count for a long while. I remember having dinner with my family and the way we used to hold hands as we said 'Grace.' There was a charm about praying then and I used to love the way my mother used to look at me on the days when it was my turn to say 'Grace.' I pretty much never prayed after I left home for College-religion and God had become irrelevant to me as I tried to make my own place in this world. Yet, those days of saying grace before dinner have stayed with me for the innocent way I used to look at things then and my mom's unquestionable faith in God. I wish I could speak to my mum now and tell her how much I love her. But that's impossible now. As I realized later on-God doesn't really have the answers to all the questions or the solutions to all the problems. My mom passed away on 16th June 1998. May her soul rest in peace.

In a way, I am really glad that I am being executed in the 21st century and not the 1980's. For lethal injection is so much a better way of dying than being locked up in a gas chamber or strapped down in an electric chair. They say that it is an almost painless death, one where you don't even notice that you are going to die. I will be strapped to a gurney with several heart monitors attached to my skin. Two needles will be placed in my veins and then they will inject an anesthetic into my system which will put me to sleep before injecting a solution of pancuronium bromide, which paralyzes the entire muscular system and stops the breathing. Finally the flow of potassium chloride stops the heart. And as life finally leaves me and my soul is freed from my body, I will still be sound asleep on that gurney. It's almost like the peaceful death that many of us wish for but not all of us can attain. Like the woman that all of us dream of marrying but only few of us do.

Emily Anna Birmingham was always the woman I was going to marry. I knew it within a month of dating her. It was never a question of if but only when. But I wasn't in a hurry. I never have been that kind of a man. And though I could have got down on my knees on the very day I realized that she was the one, I waited patiently for a year before doing so. She said yes without hesitation with tears in her eyes and I knew she was mine forever. I still remember her eyes and how they lit up every time she looked at me, the smell of her hair as she lied down in my arms, her smile as she forgave me for showing up late for a movie or even the feel of her skin as we made love. I remember the way we used to walk at the beach during our early days of courtship, side by side, with sandals in one hand and the other hand waving freely by her dress, as we talked, debated, argued, smiled and conversed without the fear of upsetting the other. And then suddenly, when a moment of silence came, when we felt like there was no need to say anything else, her fingers would entangle in mine, and slowly her head would rest on my shoulders as we walked endlessly without a care in the world, comfortable in the knowledge that we had found each other.

The last time I ever saw Emily was 6 years ago. She had come to inform me that she had met someone else and was going to marry him. I had said nothing. She had tried to hold back her tears, tried to act strong as she mentioned her impending marriage, almost as if using the marriage as a final declaration that she had moved on from me. But then she broke down and started crying, asking me to say something, saying that somewhere in her heart she was still in love with me and she hated herself for it because she didn't believe she would ever be able to move on completely. She asked me for an explanation, asked me if I even cared for our little son, to tell her why I did what I did, to tell her that I sill loved her because she knew I did. I told her to never come visit me again. She never did.

I still love Emily. And I always will. There is no question about that. Despite my crimes, my regrets, the mistakes that I made-Emily never was one of them. She was perhaps the only right choice I made in a life ordained with mistakes. I just wish I could say the same for Emily. For as I realized almost 8 years back, she had made a mistake with me. She was the best I could have ever hoped for. But I was the worst choice she made. It wouldn't have been true if I hadn't done what I did-we could have been happy and lived a wonderful life together, but once I had committed the crime, I automatically became the worst choice she made. And I needed to let her go. It was the least I could do. Perhaps only I can understand with what strength she has restrained herself from seeing me again. And from the bottom of my heart I wish that she has moved on and found happiness again. She deserves to. More than any one else.

Yesterday night I was talking to one of the guards and he had asked me one of those questions which every dying man is asked-'how do you feel man?' I didn't exactly know how to answer him then so I just told him-'alright.' Now that I have got time to think about it, I can answer that I feel prepared. I am ready. Its not to say that I am not scared or that I wish death upon me sooner. I want to live every bit of the life that I have got left in me-but I am prepared for the fate that awaits me. The wait is neither agonizing nor exciting. Its just there, a thought in my head, and one that I cannot control.

My son, Ryan Gallows, was an accident. But it was the most beautiful accident that could have ever happened. Emily and I had decided not to start a family till at least 3 years into marriage. I remember that night though. Emily and I were watching a movie in the living room, sitting on the sofa, wrapped up in a blanket when things got a bit too exciting and as it often happens, there was no control to our thoughts and before we knew it, Emily was pregnant. Once we realized that we were expecting a baby, we never even thought of looking back. We may have decided that we didn't want to start a family so soon, but now that it was upon us, we welcomed the blessing rather than fret about it. I was going to be a father and nothing else mattered. I remember holding my son in my arms for the very first time. His droopy eyes, the chubby nose, those little fingers in my palm as they held onto any support, devoid of any misgivings, the purest thing in the world. And it was the purest feeling in the world. One that words can never do justice to.

I sat and discussed with the guard about my life, my family, God, after-life, heaven or hell and stuff like that. He was kind enough to avoid mentioning my impending death on most occasions-as if we were just 2 normal guys having a discussion in a bar over a round of beer. The gravity of the situation didn't escape either of us but we knew we didn't necessarily have to make an issue about it and cry over it. I certainly knew that the last thing I needed was a bout of tears. It was amply clear that we were both aware of the elephant in the room but neither of us needed to mention it. He did put forward to me another question-if there was anything I wished I could do one last time. There are lots. I want to walk on the road and see what it feels like to be a free man one last time.I want to drink beer again. I want to watch the San Francisco 49ers win the super bowl one last time. I want to watch a movie and laugh and cry with the actors on screen as I suspend myself to the magic of cinema. I want to say Grace while having dinner with my parents again. I want to walk down the beach with Emily one more time. I want to make love to her again. I want to do all this and much more. But more than anything else-the one thing I really really wish I had a chance at, the one thing that I desire more than any other is a chance to see my son grow up. If there is one thing I really regret in all this-and one that I will never be able to forgive myself for-is depriving my son of his father. He didn't deserve this. No son does.

On the night of 7th May 1999, I had run over 3 children with my car resulting in their deaths. None of them survived. It was a massacre. I was driving after getting drunk at a party my co-workers had thrown in celebration of my latest promotion. I was 32 years old then. Had I planned to get drunk at the party? No. I had only planned to have a can of beer at the most as I was well aware of the fact that I had no one to drive me back home. Yet, in the excitement of my promotion and the party, I lost control of my thoughts once again. One can of beer became two. Followed by several shots of vodka. I left the party at 11:30 that night and decided to avoid the high way lest I get caught by the traffic cops. So I took the smaller lanes to Ashbury Heights, my neighbor hood. I don't recall much after that. There are just vivid memories but most of it is a blur. I remember trying to be careful not to over speed and to drive safely but I am not really sure. I remember I was drowsing in and out of consciousness, trying to clear my head but sleep and intoxication completely taking over me. My eye lids were almost shut as I kept on driving and when I forcefully opened them next, I saw 3 kids run across the road almost right in front of my car. I don't know what they were doing out in the middle of a road at 11:30 in the night. But they were there. My mind registered their movements but I was too slow to react. I tried to swerve my car and pressed the brakes but it was too late. The children-all 3 of them-had been crushed by my car. I pleaded guilty to the charges of death caused by drunk driving and man slaughter to the jury. My lawyer plea bargained for a life sentence but the jury of the state of California was out to set an example then and I was sentenced to death to be administered by lethal injection on the very charges I had pleaded guilty to. From that day on-I tried meeting any person from my past life ever again. Including my hospitalized father, my wife and my two year old son. If only I could have controlled my thoughts then.

I can hear the foot steps coming now. The execution squad will be here any moment. Its time for my last walk in life. A walk to the gallows. But I believe I have already walked to the gallows. For the last 10 years of my life that's what I have been doing everyday. Visiting the deaths of those children in my head, remembering the face of my beautiful wife as I shut her down from the last days of my life, trying to retain the fragments the memories of how my son looked like when I last saw him and the boy he must have grown into now, all of 12 years old. Trying to figure out if he looks like me or has he gone after his mother? Trying to understand if he has any memories of me at all or if he even knows who his father is. I don't know if it would be a bad thing if he didn't. Trying to hold onto every little memory that I had as a child as a way of reliving those innocent days in these last 10 years of my life. Trying to remember being there with my father at the Pontiac Silverdome stadium in Michigan as a 14 year old as I watched the San Francisco 49ers win their 1st Super Bowl and scream up and down with my father as they lifted the trophy. Yes-I have been walking the gallows for the last 10 years. Ever since the day I was sentenced to death by the State of California. Today is the day those harrowing walks to the gallows ends. Today I will finally be freed from the feeling of guilt, remorse and regrets that I have been facing everyday for the past 10 years. Today, my soul will be liberated of all the sins that I have committed.

The elimination squad is here. They are asking me to get up and get ready. I have asked them for 5 more minutes which they have generously, albeit grudgingly given. I have requested for no visitors to be present at the time of my execution which means besides the state officials and the press, no one else will be allowed to view my execution. Emily wont be there. Neither will Ryan. I don't know if they are out there somewhere, hoping to catch a last glimpse of me and praying for me. I hope they are. I like to believe they are. But even if they are not, what I want to tell them is that I love them. Beyond the mere definition of the word love. I have loved them and if today I can walk peacefully onto my death bed then it's because I have loved them. I wish I had a chance to tell them this. I hope Emily can forgive me and still find a space to love me somewhere. I hope Ryan knows that his father wasn't really a bad man. Just a reckless one. And one who should have learned a lesson in his childhood itself.That you really can't control your thoughts all the time. If only I had listened then.

There are now no more miles to go before I sleep. And I rest easy upon death's bed, waiting for my final salvation. Take me away.

Some Explainations....

I have been planning to write something for a long while but I am impertinently lost. I just can't seem to bring myself to write anything which would actually be worth reading or even writing. Several times, these last few months, I have signed into my blog and started writing a post but somehow could never bring myself to finish it or publish it. I really am lost. Politics doesn't interest me anymore. I admit it never has much but nowadays my interest in it has completely waned. Somewhere I did have a good laugh when I read that Barrack Obama was being awarded the nobel peace prize(I mean come on seriously-what has he actually done?) but that is as far an interest I have taken in politics this year.

Movies are always there...my first love and will remain so and more often that not my thoughts often venture into writing another movie review or a general article on the Bollywood Dream industry but I really don't fill my blog up with just movie reviews. I accept I was pretty interested in writing a review on Kaminey(movie of the year as far as I am concerned) and Blue(what a wastage of 100 crores) but then stopped for the aforementioned reasons.

So what do I really write on? See-I have no idea if I am even going to post this on my blog-but just in case I do...please forgive my venting out my frustrations on the proverbial writers block(and to think that I am not even a writer per se).

Most people who read this blog are my orkut friends and so I presume most of them have also been following my story 'That Thing Called Love' on an orkut community. They are obviously aware and probabaly pretty upset that I recently deleted that Orkut account and with it the story too got deleted. I know it's harsh and those people who have been reading my story deserve way better treatment that I have meted out to them so first of all I want to apologise. Leaving my readers in the lurch mid-way through the story was never my intention and I seriously wish I hadn't done that. You have been following that story for almost 2 years now and to devoid you from knowing what happens to Rahul and Anjali is nothing less than a crime. I seriously wish I hadn't done that.

But at the same time-it also set me thinking. For a while now I have really lost the point of the story. To be honest I haven't really known what to do with it for a long time. When I had started writing that 'That Thing Called Love' it was supposed to be an entirely different story than it turned out to be. It was supposed to be a 6 year journey of two people who really love each other but somehow can't seem to make their relationship work. So what route do they take? Do they realize that despite their love they aren't compatible enough-that they are way too different to be be happy with each other and hence part ways or do they try and find a way to make it work? It was supposed to be about self-discovery, about how much love can change you and to an extent how much should you let it change you. The story did follow the path I had laid down for it to an extent-but never to the graph that I wanted it to. For one-I never managed to stretch it to the 6 year period. It remained in that one semester for 400 odd pages and I realized for me to actually execute the real story-it could take me well over a 1000 pages. As much as I love the idea of being the next J R R Tolkien-I ain't. So I went for the easy way out-try and wrap up the story within the one year period without actually getting my point across. As an author-that just seemed to be cheating myself.

Yes-I do look fondly upon many parts of the book. And there are parts I am genuinely proud about. Maybe not as a writer per se but at least the ideas that I had conceived. I am still in love with that introduction scene. The thought of starting a story with a kiss-not many Bollywood directors(even those who cast Emraan Hashmi) wouldn't be able to think of. I loved the idea of the voice which keeps rumbling in Rahul's stomach as he has his first proper conversation with Anjali when he walks her back from frustration point to her hostel. I love Rahul's reaction and his interaction with Virat when he calls Anjali the first time. Imagining it on screen-it's something that I believe would have genuinely made people laugh. One of my really favorite bits though is the dream that Rahul has when he is about to climb the girls hostel for Anjali's birthday. The whole bit came to me almost as an inspiration and it was one of the parts I really enjoyed writing.

Then there were the emotional bits. The fight at Dee Tee when those goons hit Rahul on the head and he lands up at the hospital. When I was writing about Rahul breaking their arms, I thought it was getting a bit filmy but I just remembered that this filmy scene had a greater purpose. Just when Anjali is about to walk out on him , came the twist in the tale. Rahul is hit on the head and Anjali can't walk out anymore. I loved writing the hospital bit too. Another huge favorite is the scene at Malpe beach when they 'unofficially' break up. It just seemed right. And so did the scene after Rahul and Mohit Bansal had a fight at Dee Tee. As Anjali is about to leave-Rahul grabs her and then it was just the emotions carrying them to that second unplanned kiss. For me-it was better than the first. And I actually wished I could see that scene in a movie.

The truth though remains that I had lost track of what I was writing. And that can never be good for a writer. So even though the deleting of my story from orkut wasn't intentional I somewhere do feel that maybe the right thing did happen. I really didn't know if I wanted to continue that story anymore. And not just because it wasn't going where I had intended it to.

'THAT THING CALLED LOVE' was also supposed to be my ode to Manipal. I have spend the most beautiful four years of my life here and when I had started writing that story, it was supposed to my tribute to my life here. And perhaps thats really why I can't seem to bring myself to finish this story. Because as much as I want my readers to see a proper end to this story-I also want to give a real tribute to Manipal where I include all of its life and not just a story revolving around four characters. None of these characters though exist in Manipal. They are all made up and fictional. The only one who isn't is Virat-but even he isn't from Manipal. Virat was one of my best friends in School-and I had done schooling from Bahrain. And now that my life in Manipal is coming to an end-I can't help but think that if I am indeed writing a story based in Manipal, it shouldn't just have the lush KMC Greens or the sunset at Malpe Beach or the bike ride from End point to the Hostel, but it should also be about the characters, about the people that live in Manipal. I know-that sounds like writing a 5 point someone but if it does-then so be it. My tribute to Manipal shouldn't just be about the place itself-but also about the friends I made and the people I have had to interact with. It may not necessarily be about how screwed up engineering really is(in fact, it won't be) but it has to contain people who have inhabited this town like I have for the last four years and truly learned to love it rather than people I just made up.

I don't know if I will ever find a story to write that will be based in Manipal and manage to have the people in it as well. But I know I do want to. And for that reason only I might never finish 'that thing called love.' I would also that add that never say never because one fine day I just might but as of now its on a long standby. And I can't say sorry enough for that to all my wonderful readers. You have encouraged me and loved my story and you do deserve me better. And trust me-I'll try and make up for it.

As of right now, I do have a few story ideas in my head. But am not sure if I'll execute them. Next time I write a story-I am actually going to plan it out instead of just writing randomly whatever comes to my mind. That was the basic mistake I did with 'that thing called love.' I will ensure that I do not repeat this mistake. One day thought-I will return with a story based in Manipal. And not just based in Manipal but about Manipal. And it'll be a lot more truer than the world I showed in that thing called love, which I am sorry to say had been glossed over to a huge extent. I want to show Manipal as it is and not the town about pretty people where everything is rosy. I'll come back with the real Manipal. I don't know when but I will.

Till then, I will try and find something else to write. No idea what I will write next. I have started writing a short story so hopefully I'll post it soon. Maybe not on Orkut but on the blog itself. After November I won't have anything to do for nearly 6 months so am really hoping I can start writing something by then. I just need a very concrete idea. That's all.

Till then-I hope I can continue to blog and indulge myself in little short stories. And pray that my readers ain't too upset with me. It was the mistake of a rookier writer and nothing else. Hope that sets the record straight. Cheers! :)

PS: Read the new Chetan Bhagat book '2 states.' I am thinking of writing an article on it. Not sure though. As for my opinion on the book-lets just say it didn't work with me ;)

The Silence...

"Imran...tu aaj kal thoda chup chup sa rehta hai!" Kunal told me today while we were making the walk to uth corner for a cup of coffee well past midnight. It's not the first time in the last few months or so that someone has pointed out my silence to me and its not something I have actually tried to deny either. The brash, talkative, often hyper active Imran has become a little bit infrequent nowadadyas taken over more by the quiet, thinking and minding his own business Imran. Yes-the brash and hyper active version does surface now and then but more often that not, I find a way to remain silent or not get too involved. The reasons are just as unclear to me as it is to everybody else but mostly it is due to the fact that I find a lot less to be happy about nowadays.

It's just not to do with happiness of corse. I didn't scream before just because I was happy, I did because I wanted to-because I was and still am in general a very hyper active person. The changes don't necessarily end with the screaming either. During dinners I continue to maintain my silence, concentrating on the food than the conversation that dominates the dinner table. Is it because I am unhappy? Partly yes. Partly also because I feel detached to my surrounding nowadays. I don't feel like taking part in dinner table conversations anymore. I don't feel like going wild at parties anymore. I feel alone...lonely. Feel as if the people in my life, the people I call my friends-I just can't relate to them anymore. They are happy in their own world, in their own little happy space-and I feel as if I don't belong in that happy space anymore. It's a feeling of detatchment that I cannot describe but just seeing people celebrating, laughing, being happy-it just reminds me how lonely I am. How I don't really have anything really worth being happy about. And no-I am not talking about the materialistic things. Not jobs or a bike or the latest ipod. I am happy about all that. But unless you have people who can relate to you, who can read your mind, your expressions and notice that something is wrong by just seeing your body language-you can't really be happy. There is only so much happiness materialistic things can give you unless you have people whom you can share it with. And that's the kind of happiness that is lacking in my life.

And maybe that's why the silence has taken over the hyperactivity. Maybe that's why we all screamed and shouted at our photoshoot, then I screamed, shouted and danced again when we went for the after party to Dee Tee but half an hour into the party, my loneliness took hold of me again. I walked out of Dee Tee not feeling like being a member of the party anymore. I don't know why it really happens. I don't know why half an hour into the party I suddenly start feeling lonely. But it does-and it happens everywhere. In the past few months, I have gone to every party as excited as a bumble bee, danced wildly and screamed hoarsely for 30 mins but then I notice all the happy people, all the people who are actually truly happy and I notice again just how lonely I am. And then I just sit in a corner and watch all the happy people jump and scream and dance with anyone they can find.

I have wondered if drinking would help. Yet somehow I cannot make myself touch alcohol. Trust me-I have been tempted a good number of times to finally give into the attraction of a Red label or even an Old Monk and see what it really feels to be drunk, how good does it actually feel to be high and speak out all your frustrations without having to worry about remembering it the next day but I can't. Because God is watching. And I do truly and completely believe in the existence of God. I may not be the staunchiest of Muslims but I am a believer and I believe we will all get our just rewards form him on Judgement day. There is an after life. There is an eternity. And there is a Hell and a Heaven. Trust me on that.

I don't really like the silent me. I hate pitying myself. My life is just fine. I do have friends and lots of them, friends who really care about me. Yet somehow-I can't get over that feeling of loneliness. I am surrounded by people, people who actually are my friends, people who really do care about me, people who have helped through my troubled times yet, even in that sea of friends, I feel alone. I feel like the stranger at a party no one cares about. Somewhere-unless I find someone who can actually get rid of this loneliness for me, I feel I will become more and more silent. Day by day. Till the silence takes over completely. And that's the day I fear.

TO FALL IN LOVE...

I am not sure how many people do this but after a movie gets over, on the journey back home scenes from the movie that I have just watched are replayed in my head and its really then that I can judge how good the movie really was. Kaz, a friend, calls it the movie hangover...something which he doesn't suffer from. I do though, and maybe that's because I am actually that Bollywood crazy. But hangover or not, as I took the journey back to Manipal after watching Love Aaj Kal, the scenes started replaying in my head again. n one of those scenes, Saif and Deepika meet secretly at her wedding at her behest. Saif is confused as to why Deepika would demand such a meeting. Clearly, she has made the choice and hence has moved on. As the scene unfolds, before Deepika can utter a word, Saif starts to speak and says that he is alright and that he is happy for her. He has moved on, he tries to convince her and even convince himself. But slowly, as he continues to speak, he realizes what's actually happened. He still rants on though, shifting from the 'move-on' talk to 'what could have been,' never really settling on any one thing and eventually just walking away to avoid further embarassment and confusion. In all this Deepika doesn't utter a single word. It's a scene with seriously undermined emotions, for the feelings are way bigger than the dialogues Saif utters, yet Deepika's silence mixed with Siaf's utter confusion at what he is blabbering and still continuing to do so registers those emtions wonderfully well and without using heavily cliched dialogue or an emotional ranting, Imtiaz Ali drives home the point.

It is this deft-handling of Imtiaz Ali that makes Love Aaj Kal what it really is. For the emotions are almost severely underplayed here till the last few reels and yet they come across in a way that only Imtiaz Ali can make it impossible. It's a movie that several of our top-notch film makers, in particular Karan Johan and Aditya Chopra, can a learn a lot from. For here is a movie that actually walks the talk. And yet it almost seems like an effortless job, the film almost so alarmingly simple that it would be easy to forget who really makes this movie. And this movie, ladies and gentlemen, is an Imtiaz Ali show all the way. Despite Saig Ali Khan's stupendous act , Deepika's coming of age performance and Pritam's chart-busting music, it really is Imtiaz Ali who is the true hero of the movie. And really-I wasn't expecting anything less.

This is a movie about self-denial and realization more than anything else. Jai(Saif Ali Khan) and Meera(Deepika Padukone) meet in a lift, flirt in a bar, make out in a car, realize that they are a couple because their friends point it out to them, make out again at a wedding and eventually break-up in a restaurant. All in a snazzy 20 minute sequence. And just to add the icing on the cake, they throw a break up party. Talk about throwing cliches out of the window. They part ways and become long distance buddies discussing each others irritating and good habits as they are not in a relationship anymore. They even tell each other about their current love life and discuss date tips. Not once realizing that their is something much more deeper being formed here and when they do realize it...both are too head strong to actually admit it. And as Jai and Meera take this journey from casual lovers to friends to realizing that they can't live without each other, Jai does so with the help of Veer(Rishi Kapoor) who narrates his own love story from his younger days to an often amused Jai.

Imtiaz Ali uses several props to move his story forward. One such enticing plot move is to have Saif Ali Khan play the younger Veer for as Veer says Jai reminds him of his younger and more romantic days. Another is to use a non-linear narrative style. As Veer starts narrating his love story, it couldn't be any more different from Jai and Meera's and yet by the end both stories have reached the same point. You can't help but baulk at the comparison, while Veer's story seems to be of the love forever variety Jai's is so much more casual in attitude and yet by the end both stories are riddling in the same intensity and sea of emotions. In fact, Jai's story has more intensity to it than Veer's. Yet all this really couldn't be possible without the dialogues. They are of such a casual variety that you woudn't really notice it in real life, heck-you can hear 20-something people narrate the same dialogues at a club or disco without as much as a word difference. Clearly, Imtiaz Ali sepaks the language of the Gen-next. One such cute little moment comes when Saif Ali Khan tells Deepika on the phone that she shouldn't really drink lest others take advantage of her and happily admits that he has taken advantage of her being drunk several times. Deepika responds by saying that she was never really that drunk and she pretended to be drunk only because she realized that it could be the only way to get him to do something. It's such wittily crafted dialgue and so casually told that you can't help but cheer for it.

Subtlety though is the key here. The dialogues, the jokes and more importantly, the emotions are underplayed so that you realize what's happening without the movie going over board. You see it in almost every nuance in the 1st half. It is there when Jai and Meera are to part ways after the break-up party. You see it when Meera tells Jai over the phone that someone has asked her out and as he tells this to Veer, Jai's tone changes in such a manner that you realize it's affecting him more than he would like to admit. You feel it when Jai smses Meera about him finally hooking up with a girl. Meera reads it and smiles a bit sadly. She then looks in the mirror and tries to smile again but clearly it isn't working. You see it when both Jai and Meera are at the same party with their respective dates but can't stop texting each other. And it is then that you realize that they never really broke up. They never really believed it but all this while they were in a long distance relationship, the very reason for which they broke up.

The transition from light moments to dramatic comes in the next sequence when a sullen Meera admits her boyfriend has proposed. Jai, the more naive of the two about their relationship, doesn't see it as a big deal telling that it's a good thing and taking her hand and pulling her close to him says that she can take her time to decide if she is confused. Meera simply says, "kaise? Tumse chup chup ke milke aur tumhaara haath pakadke?" And this is when they really break up. Meera admits, almost teary eyed, that Jai has to get out of her life entirely and only then can someone take his place. But by then we know it's too late. Taking Jai's place is almost impossible now. The two though, continue to deny it, realizing now that they are in love with each other but yet won't admit that they can't live without each other. And so another phase starts.

It is moments like these take Love Aaj-Kal to dizzy heights. The emotional scenes, especially in the 2nd half have been so beautifully executed that you never really feel the change from comedy to drama. In fact, it is the dramatic sequences that are the high light of the movie. Of the two love stories running concurrently, it is hard to say which one is better. As the movie starts, Veer's story sounds a lot more interesting for Jai's and Meera's story seem to be just too practical for liking and yet by the end you really can't wait to see the conclusion to the modern love tale. That again is Imtiaz Ali's magic.

The low points are few. The 1st half, although well executed, at times seems to be heading nowhere. The intermission comes out of the blue and at a very random juncture. The songs, expecially Twist and to an extent Main Kya Hoo seem to be a bit forced in the narrative. There is no explaination given to Meera's hurried decision to get married which seems so out of place for a character shown to be more practical than emotional. Was it to get back at Jai for not realizing or admitting what she has? The ending to the past love story turns out to be somewhat of a damp squib considering the build-up. Not that it is necessarily bad.

The plus points though outscore the negatives by a mile. Pritam's music is astounding, a complete chart buster and it's almost impposible to decide which is the best track. Aahu Aahu and Chor Bazaari are my clear favorites. Both also have the best choreography. Infact Chor Bazaari is such a fun song that you wish there was a way you could join Saif and Deepika in their onscreen escapades. The cinematography is top-notch, especially in the Delhi sequences when Jai and Meera's love seems to be rekindling. The screenplay reaches dizzying hieghts in the 2nd half when an almost half baked script is turned into astounding moments of emotional depth by a director who clearly knows what he is doing.

Finally, the performances. Is this Saif's career best performance? The answer is a straight no. For those who don't seem to understand what I am saying, I suggest you pick a dvd of Omkara. Yet, without it being his career best performance, it definitely ranks in the top 3. We have seen him play the urban cool dude in Hum Tum, Salam Namaaste, Dil Chahta Hai and Kal Ho Naa Ho so it almost seems like a repeat act, except here the graph of the character and they movie are a lot more complex than in his earlier movies. And as Jai, he catches those simple nuances so easily as he goes from the in denial mode to the desperate lover mode without even letting us notice it. The transtition happens seamlessly as if it was always meant to be. And it truly was meant to be. As the sikh though, Saif isn't as convincing as Jai Mehta but this is an earnest effort again and should not be undermined. Veer Singh is a character that doesnot come easily to Saif Ali Khan but even then he manages to make us root for him and hope he gets his Harleen as he stands under her balcony and makes his 'Pratigya.' Rishi Kapoor has that old word charm about him where you know he can't do anything wrong. He is simply too good an actor to do anything wrong.

The real surprise though is Deepika Padukone. 4 movies old and in none of her earlier movies did we see an actress who could actually act. There were hints that she could become an average actress at best but beyond that? Nigh impossible. But stranger things have happened and as so often happens, given a good character and a director who has extracted career best performances from his previous actresses, Deepika Padukone makes a mark and proves that she can act. Heck-she can cry even better and that really takes something. Watch the aforementioned sequence when the real break-up happens and another seqnece where a heart broken Meera talks to Jai on the phone, shouting merrily even as tears drop down her eyes. These are scenes of immense magnitude and a bad actress could have easily runied them, but Deepika sinks into her role and takes the graph of her character upscale like never before. Welcome Deepika. To the club of heroines who can actually act. We are glad you are here.

Finally though, as already said before, this is an Imtiaz Ali film from beginning to end. He seamlessly combines every element of the movie into something so beautiful that Love Aaj Kal becomes better than the sum of its parts. Taking two regular stories, juxtaposing them together in an effortless narrative, using witty and smart dialogues with pitch perfect casting and chart busting music, Imtiaz Ali is like that orchestra conductor blending all the beautiful but individual elements into an ensemble and making a maserpiece. Almost effortlessly. And Love Aaj Kal is a master peice no-less. It is his best work, no doubt, even bettering his earlier Jab We Met which in itself was such a difficult act to follow. Now that he has done it, it will be intresting to see what Imtiaz Ali does next. I really hope, for the sake of every movie lover in India, that Imtiaz Ali doesn't loose his way. Bollywood is in desperate need of film-makers like him.

Final Verdict: There is no way you can miss this one. Absolutely no way. This is the best romantic movie to come out of Bollywood in years. This is Imtiaz Ali's tour de force, a movie made with such effortless ease that you baulk at actually how good it is. It is a movie that deserves to be lauded for its simpicity and applauded for Imtiaz Ali's sheer genius. It is a movie that once again proves that Saif Ali Khan keeps reaching new heights as an actor and a movie that introduced us to Deepika Padukone the actress. It is a movie that had me jumping in a theatre and doing a jig to the Aahu Aahu song as the end credits roll. It is a movie that will make you smile as you come out of the theatres and remind you that we are better at romance than Hollywood is. To their every Titanic, we have a DDLJ, Kuch Kuch Hota Hai, Jaane Tu Ya Jaane Naa, Jab We Met and now...Love Aaj Kal. It is a movie for every Bollywood buff and anyone who is a romantic at heart. So go catch it now and fall in love all over again. For it's impossible not to fall in love with this movie.

As for me, I will be catching a repeat show of this movie at a cinema near me very soon. And I am pretty sure by next weekend I would have watched the movie atleast 5 times. For you see, that movie hangover really is quite strong. The scenes of Love Aaj Kal just don't stop playing in my head and I doubt it will anytime soon. And I am actually bloody happy. Imtiaz Ali, take a bow. AAHU AAHU AAHU!!

RATING: ****

MANIPAL MEMORIES...PART 1!!

There are a lot of things I wanna write today. A whole load of things are revolving in my head but the problem as usual is that I have nothing really concrete. I am enjoying the last days of my final summer vacation of college life-so that is one thing going through my head. Another naturally, is the impending final year of college life. 4th year starts on 20th July and honestly-I can't wait for it. There is so much to do, so much to see and so many more memories to make. Sticking to the college thoughts, as I look forward to my final year, I also can't help but look back on the last 3 years in Manipal. Was it really that long ago? Have 3 years really passed? Because it seems as if just yesterday I had landed in Manipal and looking forward to the best days of my life. And these 3 years indeed have been the best of my life. Riddle with fun, frolick, memories-each semester has been like the passing of an era. And now, in 2 semesters time it indeed will be the passing of an era. No more college life. No more waking up till 5 in the morning with friends and then rushing for that 8'0 clock lass lest you get an attendance shortage. No more those impromptu trips decided just 2 hours before departure. "Bore ho rahe hai yaar...kuch karna chahiye!" said one of the gang. Others agree. Plans are duscissed. One agrees and another raises objections. "Mangalore-lets go for Shoot out at Lokhandwala!" one puts forth. "Nahi yaar...pagal hai kya? Vivek Oberoi dekhne tu Adlabs jaayega!" and another plan goes down. "Malpe beach...Kapu Beach...Turtle Bay...Gokarna...what about Jog falls!" "Baarish ho rahi hai be...beach jaake kya samundar mein doobna hai?" "Hanging Bridge or wait...what about kudremukh?" "Kudremukh? Nahi yaar...bahut door hai!" And then somene comes with a genious of plan and simply says, "Goa." Looks are exchanged, everyone stares at each other. Words are not needed, a consensus has been reached! Goa, ofcorse! The magiv words. And so in 2 hours the bags are packed, cash is withdrawn from the ATM and we are all set to spend a weekend in Goa. No one points out that its rainy season in Goa as well and also that it is much further than Kudremukh, the reason for which previous destinations were rejected. Because it's Goa...and no one says anything against Goa. And so we are off.

And so...I am going to this a bit of a personal post and right down my favorite memories of College life, in no particualr idea. As they come to my mind, I will list them down. Please be warned, this could be a long post. So here we go:

1. IMPACT IN CLASS(1ST SEM): I hadn't said much during my 1st few days of college. A bit apprehensive, a bit shy and well-a lot nervous, I kept to myself and used to sit with Anish(a friend I knew from before coming to Manipal), listen to the teacher and then go back to my room! In our first english class on a Saturday morning, our teacher told us we would have to give a speech on a topic of our choice. There were groans around the class but I kept quiet. No reaction. Inside-I knew exactly what was going to happen. So people started going one by one on stage and speaking. Those who were confident went first and those who werent stayed back and didn't go until pushed by the teacher. I waited. I didn't volunteer to go and speak unlike the confident one's. I slowly wrote down the points I was going to speak on a piece of paper. My topic: 'the greatest invention made by man.' Then I sat and listened to everyone's speech. Some were good. Some were average. Some were horrible and some couldn't speak at all. After every turn, teacher asked for the other students' feedback. I never spoke a word. Jut sat quietly. And then-when all the students had finished speaking the teacher asked if anyone was left. I simply got up from my seat, brushed my shirt to make it neat and walked to the podium...slowly and confidently...walking straight ahead without looking at anyone. The stage was mine. The stage is always mine. Very few people can own the stage like I can. And the best part was-only I knew that. Rest of the class was probabaly thinking-'he is going last...clearly he can't speak for crap!' I stood on the stage, looked around the class, looked at my audience and slowly smiled. Then I started-on the greatest invention made by man. For me-it was the pen. And hence, my first words were 'the greatest invention made by man...' and then slowly taking out a pen and showing it to the class I said, "I am holding it in my hand!" I rattled off points one after another to a stunned class and a smiling english teacher. She probabaly knew what all good public speakers know-'you always make your entry last...just when the people are least expecting it' and walk away with a standing ovation. The nervousness was gone, the impact had been made and Farid Baig would never be that weird guy who talks to no one. It was also after this speech that I first spoke to Ritayan and Sameer-3 years down the line they are one of my best friends in this place.

2.COORG TRIP(1ST SEM):It was our first trip. Arranged by the college ofcorse-since just 1 month into college we didn't really wanna wander out on our own. It was the trip where the real bonding started and perhaps it was here that our group was born. Ritayan, Sameer, Abhijit, Nikhil, Balli, Sankhya et all were here and it was the first time most of us were actually really hanging out. The trip started at 11 in the night with around 70 first years in one bus. Clearly, there was no escaping from this. The masti started there itself. As we waited for the bus to start, chants started. Everyone yelled something or the other cursing the driver to start the bus. In the excitement I yelled-"abey bus ki hilao!" referring to a highly sexual slang. A lot more followed. Another popular chant started by Gaurav, Harsha and Suhail was-"Ladki dekhi..." after which everyone in the best yelled Haa jee. It went something like this-
"Ek Ladki dekhi!"
"Haa Jee!"
"Kya chaal this uski!"
"Haa Jee"
"Kya baal the uske"
"Haa jee!"
"Woh aage aage!"
Haa jee!
Hum peeche peeche!
Haa Jee!
Woh daaye daaye
Haa Jee
Hum Baaye Baye
Haa Jee
Woh Beauty Parlor
Haa Jee
Hum Baahar khade the
Haa Jee
Woh Baahar Nikli
Haa Jee
Woh Aditya Nikli
Haa jee!

Then everyone would clap in a loud fervour as Aditya(or the boy who had just been mocked) went red in the face. That whole trip was one of bonding and taking in a piece of what we knew was to come. These trips would form the best part of our life in Manipal. College buses would be replaced by trains or hired cars, instead of 70 people, there might be just 8-12 people...but the essence remained the same. And Coorg was where it all started!

3.END SEM EXAMS AND LAST DAY(1ST SEM): What on earth were we thinking? This is what I often think when I look back to the end sem exams of our 1st sem. The entire college was studying and looking tensed-but we...we were busy hanging out at Innovation centre, taking long walks, dinner at Thaloor's at Parotha Point and then walking back though KC and the girls block and singing "Tujhe dekha to ye jaanam sanam..!" in the loudest voice possible. Girls would stare at us blankly but we didn't give a damn. We were shameless, we were rowdy, we were crazy but damn we were awesome. Those carefree, careless days where we were just a bunch of juniors trying to have the maximum fun possible and in the midst screwing up our exams-they would perhaps live in my memory longer than any other time of College. Clearly-being rowdies is a hell lot more fun that being the good decent guys that so many want to be. Heck-I would do anything to return back to those days and scream 'Tujhe dekho to ye jaana sanam' near the Girls block. But now as final years-we are saddled with maturity and God knows what. Oh comeon-we are just in our early twenties..why the hell can't we be rowdies again? And on the last night of our first semester, the entire hostel went crazy going around ripping anyone's shirt who even dared to step outside his room. No one was spared and those who decided to stay indoors had their doors broken and their shirts ripped. No one had a t-shirt on that night. Pity it wasn't a co-ed hostel. Lol!

4.THE ALMOST GOA PLAN(2ND SEM):Oh...this one had to take the cake! So one fine night during our 1st semester we all went for our usual dinner and walk plan and ended up at KMC Greens with its lush grass and an amazing spectacle. As we sat on the grass, the basics of a Goa plan were discussed. It would be our 1st trip to Goa in College life and so it had to be grand. After all-since Dil Chahta Hai, the Goa trip has become the all important one during College days. So nothing was left to chance. We sat and discussed for 2 hours every little detail. Nothing should go wrong. Best time would be the Republic Day holiday during 2nd sem. We leave on the Thursday night, spend 3 days in Goa and be back in Manipal by early Monday morning. Expenditure was discussed. Which class ticket we should buy was discussed. It had to be General but some opposed as they wanted a more comfortable ride. Eventually it was general or no entry. Which cars and bikes to hire were discussed! An open jeep if possible...they are more fun. Otherwise a Swift to save cost. Avenger or Pulsar! Who would book the tickets...what would we tell our parents. So Jaju, a resident of Goa himself, was asked to email everyone's parents saying he was inviting all of us to his brothers' wedding so parents wouldn't have to worry about us getting drunk, smoking weed and lying wasted on the beaches of Goa. After all...it was a wedding. And all that was done...3 months before the trip was actually even going to happen. The email arrived in January and parents approval was taken. Everything was set. And 3 days before the actual trip-everyone pulled out for various reasons. I would make my 1st trip to Goa only in 4th semester. Yet-this almost Goa trip perhaps remains more memorable than the two Goa trips I did eventally take simply because that it never happened. The lesson learnt from this:'Never plan for a trip! And certainly not 3 months before itself' The best trips are the unplanned ones. Trust me. Speaking from experience!

Ok...know what? This post has already extended thr world limit I had set for it. So i am going to stop here for now. Maybe some day I will complete this list. And maybe someone will actually care to read it. But God-has it really been 3 years already?

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING...!!!

The feeling that you get after watching New York is something of a mix-somewhere you know you have watched a decent movie but you just can't stop thinking about what it possibly could have been. It has happened with several movies and film-makers before...movies which had potential to be called path-breaking, give us a gripping tale yet somehow, somewhere the director compromises and you are left with a movie which is not even a shadow of what it could have been. And New York could have been so much more.

Granted, Kabir Khan manages to weave an intriguing tale of friendship and betrayal revolving around terrorism but unfortunately he only manages to touch the surface of a screenplay brewing with unbridled potential and perhaps that is at the same time New York's biggest strength and weakness! This could have been an edge of the seat thriller dealing with issues which are as real as they can get. Instead, New York is an above average commercial entertainer which has its moments but nearly not enough of them.

Kabir Khan is also not helped by his choice of actors who have clearly been given roles which is beyond the scope of their acting abilities. Its not really due to the lack of trying, for it can be seen that all of them have tried hard to give as convincing a performance as possible-but somehow their characters are far more complex than the actors can handle. A better star cast could have helped the movie.

So we have Omar(Neil Nitin Mukesh),a newly entered Indian student at the New York State University. He soon becomes fast friends with the beautiful Maya(Katrina Kaif looking gorgeous) and the University ka stud, Sameer(John Abraham).His heart beats silently for Maya as his new friends introduce him to the beauty of the American Dream. Unfortunately for Neil though, Maya and Sameer are already in love with each other. Upon discovery of this Omar silently exits their life on the very same fateful day of the World Trade Center Attacks. This portion of the movie is breezy at best, pointless at several points and irritating at others. Suffice it to say we have seen better portrayal of camaraderie among Campus friends.

But all this is easily forgiven in the next hour of the movie as Kabir Khan delves into the WTC and its aftermath.8 years from that fateful day, Omar reenters Sameer's and Maya's life, who are now married and have a child. Only difference is that Omar is now working under the instructions of the FBI officer Roshan(Irrfan Khan)who suspects that the campus hero is now running a sleeper terrorist cell.

The drama in this 1 hour of the movie is gripping and engaging as Kabir Khan keeps the plot moving at a rapid pace,moving from one junction to another, a thriller finely tuned to its audience needs, giving them just enough to keep their appetite whetted but never letting them guess completely what's coming next. We know there is more to than what just appears to be on the surface but we just don't know how much more. Its riveting stuff and at this point,New York's laborious first 30 minutes seems ages ago, almost part of another movie as Kabir Khan keeps the audience on the edge of their seats. The movie soon peaks in a brilliantly executed Intermission sequence. It's one of those sequences which leave you flabbergasted,your mouth open, your eyes stunned and you can't wait for the intermission to get over. By this point New York had reached where few Bollywood thrillers ever have.

The movie starts after the intermission where it had left off, showing how several innocent Muslims were illegally detained and brutally tortured as suspects of the 9/11 terrorist attack. It is after this though that the problems seep in. Once Kabir Khan has established the conflicts of ideals and set up the movie for an enthralling final hour, it almost seems as if he doesn't know quite what to do with it. He loses track, not really knowing how to give that rousing final act and the movie spirals downwards, cutting from on dramatic sequence to another but never reaching where it intends to. The climax itself, though well executed and undoubtedly the best part of the last hour, somehow never really satisfies you. Kabir Khan tries to do a Rakyesh Mehra and make a Rang De Basanti but only manages a Delhi-6.

The music is essentially good and fortunately enough there are no lip-syn ch moments though the songs are not really necessary as part of the narrative. Aditya Chopra's writing is a huge thumbs up in the first hour but is also to be blamed for the film's final disappointment. As I said, it almost seems as if once they had set the movie up for that grand finish, Adiya Chopra was at a loss for ideas to give that final punch.

Katrina Kaif looks gorgeous and tries real hard to impress us with her acting here. The effort can be seen but unfortunately it doesn't work. Saddled with a character which has several more layers than she can handle, she puts in a valiant effort but still is a miserable failure. Half the scenes in the 2nd half are ruined thanks to her presence and is a clear example of how bad acting can ruin the best of scenes.

The same can be said of Neil Nitin Mukesh. The effort is there and he even succeeds to an extent but you can't help but wish that there was a better actor there to play his part. Not that he is bad. He gets the maximum screen presence and in first half he puts in a pretty decent show, but it is in the 2nd half where he falters. The emotional scenes never work with him and that's where he has got to improve.

Irrfan Khan is a brilliant actor is a fact no one can doubt so there isn't much left to say. It isn't really his movie and yet in many ways he is the best part about it.

John Abraham though is a different kettle of fish. Here is an actor who is often undermined for his performances, almost labelled a non-actor but in New York he comes of age. It's a bravura performance deserving all the plaudits it can gather. Given the most complex character of the movie, John Abraham does a stupendous job, convincing us at once that he is a family man and then slowly, as the layers peel off and the mask is unveiled, he seeps into it and catches the angst of Sameer with elan. John Abraham can't act is now just a myth. He may not win any awards for this, but when the best performances of the year will be mentioned you can be sure that John Abraham's name will definitely come up.

Final Verdict: I would recommend New York for three different reasons. 1st-the movie in itself is not a bad one and scores on more than one front. It definitely can be viewed as a well made thriller. 2ND-The Issue that the movie highlights is an ever present one and should not be ignored. In that regard, Kabeer Khan does well to make an entertaining movie and at the same time relaying an important message. 3rd-To watch John Abraham grow as an actor and finally come of age. John Abraham the actor has finally arrived.

Its just that I somehow can't get over the feeling that this movie had the potential to be so much more. It will be regarded as one of the finer movies of the year no doubt but somewhere, in the midst of trying to create a commercial thriller with an underlying message, the makers really lost the chance to make a movie that could have been remembered for ages. Pity really! For it really is much ado about nothing!

RATING: ***