It has been a long time since a finely written script has been milked collectively by the cast much to the enjoyment of a full house...

It has been a long time since a cast has been so well chosen...

Kudos to Sharanya for having directed THIS. And to RK and gang for having stage managed the very successful show.

But why then does a nagging feeling of disappointment continue to harass me...

Is it because I think somewhere the cast lost something and began to resort to Indian histrionics...

Not too much, mind you...but just enough to jar...

Or is it because a well used stage was unnecessarily cluttered with chaos...

part of the plot, mind you...but just a wee bit too much for my sensitivity.

and to make things worse, they had the band on stage...oh whatever happened to the orchestra pit...

Perhaps all this is a functional result of the fact that the AirCon conked midway...

but in all fairness, I had a good evening...definitely an evening of theatre of a different level...alright, go ahead...blame me...for expecting much more from Sharanya...from Dramanon.

Amen.

During the 1970s singer, actor Dean Martin had starred in a series of spy/action films which had names like the Silencers, the Defenders, the Ambushers and so on. They were a precursor to the archetypical James Bond series and had more than a fair share of T & A and some really comic action. Also they made old Dean look suave and sophisticated and gave him gadgets that were ahead of their times.

One scene I shall never forget is when Dean Martin wakes up, switches on his bed that tilts sufficiently to tip him into an underbed pool, where he is automatically washed, dried, powder puffed and dressed up before being deposited into his jazzed up sports car.

So though I was a Marvel Comics fan and was quite fond of the characters featured in the Avengers 3D extravaganza, I still felt cheated and disappointed with the whole film.

Maybe Superman was to blame. That movie set such high standards that it almost felt like the comics we had read were but storyboards for the films that we eventually saw. Christopher Reeves in a benchmark performance, the Joker, the Bat Mobile, Lois Lane, the list of illustrations coming to wonderful life is never ending.

But the Avengers seems to have decided to bank on 3D techniques and audio technology and resisted the temptation to evoke any nostalgia. So the film turned into a standalone comic book based one that drew heavily on contemporary carving and sketching of characters. And while it did manage to appeal to the kids (my children still can’t understand why I am disappointed with the film) it left me strangely disconnected.

Which is why I came away remembering Dean Martin and so wishing that someone other than Austin Powers works on a modern day sequel to his series. And I smirked that for someone playing around with 3D opportunities for the first time, the film featured very few ‘Oh WOW, now that’s what I call 3D’ kind of moments. We have of course been pampered by the earlier films in the genre that have explored the possibilities of the realm with much more imagination.

All in all, an evening worth the tub of salted popcorn and the sneaks full of the caramelised version but that’s it. Looks like the Director and Producers of the film took their philosophy of ‘this far, and no further’ too seriously on several fronts and we, the audience, were made to suffer the almost good film made from almost the best ingredients and discover Nirvana only when the villainous God vanished back into space...well, almost.

There was this sage or saint called Valmiki who wrote a definitive history of his times. He told the world quite emphatically that there was a God. And that whenever mankind was in trouble or in dire need of a saviour, God would come down to earth in a different avatar and solve the problem.

The legend of Lord Rama is one such avatar.

While Ram is often remembered for being the true king who vanquished evil and also the king who discovered and practised good governance, people tend to forget that his saga also gave birth to the legend of Sita, the quintessential earth child. The girl child whose life was a series of ill treatment and torture and discrimination beyond imagination. So much so that when Rama asked her to take the test of chastity she complied but soon after, she dissolved into the depths of the earth.

Sita Devi and her unfortunate role in the Ramayana has given humanity, especially womankind a whipping boy (or should I say girl) through the centuries. From the way she was married off (by the conductance of an entrance test if you please) to the way she lived her life in unnecessary exile. Right through to the time when she had to prove that she had been chaste while being in captivity. Demeaning. Demoralising. You can call it what you will but the unfairness of it strikes you immediately.

The other day I saw a news item in the papers and later online, about a lady who gave me an idea. She was this extremely agile individual who did wonderful things with her body, held a bow with her feet and actually fired off an arrow in an upside down pose that defies imagination.

Seeing her gave me an idea. If instead of Lord Rama having to show off his archery to win the hand of Sita, the story was rewritten to see Sita exhibiting her skills to win the hand of Rama, a few things could happen.

To start with the Ramayana could be renamed Sitayana. Instead of Valmiki writing the boring saga, the assignment could possibly be given to Shobha De.

And everyone could live happily ever after.

Including Ravana who wouldn’t have kidnapped Laxmana even if he was gay.

Last night I attended the wedding reception of a friend’s son. The venue was just a little out of Hyderabad, very close to BHEL, just off the Bombay Highway. I must admit that I whispered irritated thoughts to myself as we drove there. Who in his right mind would chose a venue so far away? Only a Surd, Only a Surd…the answer kept echoing and rebounding on the walls of my agitated mental corridor.

Yes, the host was a Surd and a dear friend at that. And when I reached the venue I realised that hardy practicality had dictated the choice. The venue was humongous, extremely well appointed and the airconditioning was hyper efficient. Obviously an instance where the author of unexpected genius was a Sardar.

And that brings me to the thought that has been bugging me since last night.

Since the host was a Sardar, the other invitees naturally also were of the same ilk. They all wore black suits and ties, all of them had done their beards and all of them were in crisply turned out turbans. And almost all of them had gorgeous smiles. In fact you’d be hard pressed to tell one from another.

I must admit that a dirty joke did tickle my memory. Apparently a call girl was entertaining a Chinese man. After a hectic round of lovemaking the girl was exhausted when she was surprised by the Chinaman suggesting that they go another round. Somewhat flattered, she agreed and thought that would be the end of it. But surprise, surprise the Chinaman wanted it again, and wanted more. She obliged again. And this went on almost all through the night.

From being an overly satisfied young lady she transformed into a highly exhausted and sore thing who got a shock of her life when she peeked below the bed and saw almost a dozen Chinamen sleeping the sleep of the evil and the innocent.

The punchline was something about her being Shanghai’ed when all she got paid for was to get screwed.

I could well imagine an Indian variation of the joke using Sardars. Because frankly I don’t think I have seen as many Sardars as I saw last night as I did at the Republic Day Parade.

Be that as may be, the vision of all these bearded wonders sparked off a nostalgic trip to Calcutta when I was a kid in Class 4 and in the hockey team along with an athletic Surd Charanjeet Singh.

We moved to Hyderabad a couple of years later and I bumped into Rabinder and Gurbinder SIngh my neighbours from Gagan Mahal Colony. And also a classmate in Grammar School, Gurgeet Singh whose father was the head of the Oil Seeds Corporation.

Later I had Gurcharan Singh Saluja in class, God Bless his Soul. Then there was a gap for a few years and only when Taranjeet Singh, a student of HCU came into my life, did my Surd Saga continue.

I wonder where all the Surds are. All those who sparkled my life with the joie de vivre that only these rhythmatic souls possess.

Wherever you are, if you are listening…hello…and thanks ever so much.

Script writing, especially writing a script pertaining to a corporate film needs a more than thorough understanding of the subject and the ability to imbibe knowledge so much and so comprehensively that when the script finally takes shape, it effortlessly becomes the story being told by a veritable expert.

Credibility then is as much the key to a script’s character as is Creativity.

And thus is born the logic of ‘you can write a better script if you are in a better location, a better frame of mind’ and so on. While the commercially driven mind trains itself to function in the most mundane of surroundings, a shift in locale to a more exotic, a more picturesque or even a more peaceful environment has been known to facilitate scripts from a higher orbit, scripts from the other side of brilliance.

I have been writing scripts almost the whole of my advertising life having written my first at the age of eleven or twelve. And I do believe that my strong point or my ‘USP’ is the power of the script that I create to hold together the many presentations I have had the good fortune to tailor.

Naturally patterns have emerged. I prefer to write my scripts early in the morning. Around 4 am to be precise. And I normally take 3 hours to write my first draft if the script is for a 5 – 7 minute presentation. Then I take a quick nap and at around 10 am. after a relook at the script and if necessary a rewrite, my scripts are normally ready by noon.

While I did begin my journey into this fascinating world by painstakingly handwriting every word, it was not long before I migrated to the manual typewriter and then to the portable much to the annoyance of my neighbours who used to curse the erratic pounding of keys at unearthly hours.

The advent of the PC changed a lot of things and most of my scripts in the last two decades have been digital in terms of origin.

And most of my scripts I have written at home on a dining table that is over 40 years old and a writing table that’s about 30 years of age.

But there have been scripts that I have had to write on the move and in different locations due to the pressure of time or what have you. I was reminiscing about the strange locales that have hosted my script writing endeavours and that’s when it struck me that perhaps the experiences were worth sharing with my friends, family and other loved ones.

Perhaps it’s a futile attempt to explain my insanity, perhaps a shot at rationalising my erratic timelines, or perhaps a cheap thrill of showing off my dexterity. Whatever the reason, here goes...enjoy!!!

My favourite script story is that of Brooke Bond Tea.

Brooke Bond commissioned me to conceptualise and produce a 60-90 minute documentary for teenagers and adolescents that could explain to them in an entertaining fashion the entire story of tea – from ‘leaf to lip’ as they said.

Appreciating that I needed first hand experience with the subject Brooke Bond organised a three month study tour of the tea industry for me. I was taken to the North East, I was taken to the South, and I was force fed hours and hours of footage featuring the tea growing habits of Srilanka and China etc. Huge tomes with interesting and age old anecdotes connected to tea were given to me for study. And to make sure I was instantly available Brooke Bond suggested that I camp in Bangalore for a month or so, so that I could evolve my script in close cooperation with the client.

I used to in those days, stay at the Windsor Manor Hotel. And luckily the hotel made my long stay there more attractive by offering attractive discounts on my bill.

My pattern underwent a small change in those days, specifically for the Brooke Bond job. I used to spend most of the day at Whitefield, the Brooke Bond Headquarters and having collected relevant data, I would come back to the hotel a little after lunch and then hit the sack. Waking up around seven or so, I’d organise a working dinner in my room and spend the better part of the night writing the script for the chapter I was working on.

I would send my manuscript to the Business Centre early in the morning and then collapse into bed before dragging myself out at 10 am for a hurried breakfast. My script in the meanwhile would have been typed neatly on the electric typewriter that ITC had in their Business Centre which I would photocopy and take along with me to Brooke Bond for discussions with the client.

As I said I stayed at the hotel for a month and a half. The bill for my stay was not alarming but what did knock the socks off my feet was the Business Centre bill. With typing charges @ Rs, 25/- per page and photocopying rates @ Rs. 10/- per page, my script which was eventually frozen and bound at 80 odd pages (including several rewrites etc.) cost me in the late 1980s the princely sum of almost a lakh of rupees.

To this day I look upon the script that I wrote ‘The Tea Story’ as one of the most entertaining and most authentic in that domain, and is one of my personal favourites.

There was a time in the late 70s and early 80s before I got married that I used to take a annual break from wherever I was working (Chennai, Bangalore, Mumbai etc.) and come back to Hyderabad and check into the Nature Cure Hospital at Ameerpet for a month long clean up and detox kind of course that also helped me to balance my weight.

Normally I would maintain a very low profile during my stay at the facility but there was this time when my agency reached out to me with an SOS. Novopan, a Hyderabad based client needed an audio visual and the job had been assigned to me. I refused to take up the assignment stating that I had already checked in for treatment.

To cut a long story short the compromise my agency worked out for me meant that while I was undergoing treatment for a month I would have to work with the client and the agency executives to write the script and get it approved, and then after my discharge I could then proceed to shoot as per the script around the country and deliver their AV in a nice three month timeline.

To sweeten the pot, the agency also offered to foot my hospital bill.

Thus began a most fascinatingly funny month at the Nature Cure Hospital. Every day after treatment I would be allowed to receive visitors from Novopan who would in turn brief me about the product and the process involved. And all I could offer them was a glass of lime water and honey.

The script went on to becoming a comprehensive documentary on the particle board industry and its adaptations continued to teach carpenters and convertors about the use of the Novopan for many years to come. Today, when I see how Novopan and similar products have made comfortable niches in the markets, I can’t but help feel a certain amount of pride in having developed this sector, all those many years ago.

One of the agencies I used to consult for in Mumbai for many years was O & M. A lot of my UB related work was done for that fine agency and in fact I owe them a debt of gratitude for having introduced me to Vijay Mallya who later went on to be a direct client of mine and a partner in some of my ventures.

O & M in those days had their offices in Apeejay Chambers near Churchgate and they normally put us up or encouraged us to stay at the Ritz Hotel which was a stone’s throw away from their offices.

The Ritz was a wonderfully quaint and warm hotel but it was sadly uninspiring and was not quite writer friendly. The table they used to give in the rooms was too small and the chairs too uncomfortable to contemplate any serious writing in that venerable hotel.

Which is when I discovered the Sea Lounge at the Taj Mahal.

This first floor outlet at the Apollo Bunder facility was quiet, luxurious and offered me window seats that overlooked the Gateway of India and the Arabian Sea. Especially on a rainy day the view was stunning. And because very few people came there it became my daytime workspace.

I would take a few note pads, all the relevant data and a few pens and proceed to write in the corner, savouring my cappuccinos, munching my freshly crisped potato chips and puff away my nicotine.

Needless to say the scripts that I managed to write from here turned out to be quite tranquil and very soothing. And I had a ball.

There have been several other places that gave me opportunities to use them as work stations and I remember all of them fondly. Maybe one of these days I will continue this saga...until then...Aloha!!!