The Age of Stupid and 3 Idiots!

So we were going to Blue Frog...the 3 of us...to watch a movie on climatic change. It was called 'The Age of Stupid' and that means us!! No, not just the 3 of us, but simply all of us. Anyway, good docu-drama that...very well shot...uses a bit of animation too. So it talks about, well I guess I have already mentioned that...climatic change. What I like about the movie is that it does not dole out any gyaan...it simply talks in hindsight...well the fact is that when its all over and done with, even the biggest nincompoop can talk real intelligent looking back!

So we have this guy (we’ll call him Mr. Nincompoop even if there are good chances that he will sound super intelligent in 2055), apparently the last human alive in the devastated world of 2055, somewhere in the arctic or the antarctic or some god forsaken corner of the universe, sitting in this real jazzy, space age kinda tower in the middle of the rough ocean dancing beneath like an angry devil. So Mr. Nincompoop is looking back, musing about why we did not do something to stop climate change when there was still time to…when we had the chance? Gooooood question. Hmmmm…but wait, that was not what I started with, that’s not the point that I was trying to make…ok, I plead guilty of digressing way off my path.

So, the 3 of us were going to Blue Frog to watch the Age of Stupid. Or rather let’s go a little further back than that. Now I must assert at the outset that the 3 of us are inherently extremely intelligent (even if the post title suggests otherwise). So Idiot 1 and Idiot 2 decide that they will meet at Lower Parel Station and then walk it down to Blue Frog which is not too far away from there…nice evening walk. So then Idiot 2 is all set to leave the home when she asks Idiot 3, “Do you wanna come watch a movie on climatic change?” Idiot 3 thinks for a split second and replies, “Yeah…sure.” Bad decision…but like I said before, everyone sounds intelligent when talking in hindsight.

Now Idiot 2 and Idiot 3 are on the road all set to get to Lower Parel. But they decide to cab it up instead of taking the train, as in that part of Bombay it’s a herculean task to get a rick to the station during office hours. You can talk your guts out asking the rick waalas to take you to the station, but they won’t. And the answer is simple. They want people who wanna go long distance. The station is too close and you’re gonna get lucky if you wanna get a rick ride to Goa perhaps!! At that time, the BEST bus is not even an option…just from the look of it and the people crammed inside it, you can bet your life that it could topple any moment.

So they decided to cab it up. In life, there are certain key moments that alter the outcome of events that one is a part of. Sometimes you know when exactly those moments occur…at other darned times you don’t. So just when they were going to ask a cab to get them to Lower Parel, one such moment occurred in their lives…they decided to ask a rick waala to take them to the local station. And guess what…the rick waala agreed!! Damn you, rick guy (in hindsight)…

So Idiot 2 and Idiot 3 reach Lower Parel Station and are elated to meet Idiot 1. The weather is weird but beautiful…pink sky overhead, nice cool breeze, slight drizzle…So should we cab it up to Blue Frog? NO…this is just the perfect weather to take a nice walk. This was that precise moment when the 3 of us stepped down from heights of intelligence to the threshold of idiocy. Yes ofcourse we weren’t carrying umbrellas or rain cheaters…the rains in Bombay are supposed to be over by now. So we start walking…the weather’s weird but super…what fun.

Then it happened…it started to pour…we’re still walking ofcourse…the only difference is, that we’re walking as if we were in a walking race at the Olympics…and mind you…we’re still thinking if we should get a cab. Ooops…but it’s too late now. We’ve come a long way and no cabbie will take us now. Remember, all of them will only take you if you wanna go to Goa. So we take the turn round the bend and we’re soaking wet. We decide to stand under a shed and curse the weather for like maybe half a minute. Then we decide, “Well, we’re wet anyway, so let us walk and not miss the movie.” So we step out from under the shed and continue with our Olympics Walk Marathon. Needless to mention that this was taking the second step that only got us well into the state of idiocy…far beyond the threshold.

So we walk…walk…walk and get wet…wet…wet…and we reach our destination…Blue Frog. So now here we are…the 3 Idiots…soaking wet…dripping. I think collectively we could have been able to fill atleast one small size bucket had we wrung our clothes and hair. Well there are other people like us who are wet but surely not as wet as we are. Anyway, we enter. Thank god they had towels to give to us. So we take the towels, get our hands stamped and rush straight for the restroom. So we wring our clothes in whatever way we can and attempt to dry ourselves with the towels…but too bad…maybe a beach towel would come in more handy given the situation we had gotten ourselves into! But we try anyway. Then we get out and take the best available seats. We still have the towels with us. We have no option, we need them badly. While we’re still trying to dry ourselves, a lady sitting behind us makes conversation with us… she’s some firang complaining about the sudden rain and how it caught everyone unawares…well climatic change you see… she is soaked as well…we look at each other and smile…instant connection is made…one happy wet family!!

So now, we’re sitting there enjoying the Jazz and Blues and waiting for the movie to begin. Ofcourse we are still making attempts to dry ourselves. It’s almost half hour past we landed in Blue Frog but the movie doesn’t start. “Damn buggers, we could have waited under some shed till it stopped pouring (in hindsight). We rushed coz we thought we’ll miss the movie and these jerks aren’t even starting it. And why the hell does Blue Frog have some weird flashing lightining today? Oh crap it’s the lightening in the sky.” We could see it through the glass pane on the high wall of Blue Frog…crazy lightening accompanied by thunder.

Then the show starts. They talk about this carbon footprint calculator they have developed specifically for India. Carbon footprint calculator…sounds impressive…but damn you, I am freezing and I might die in a moment and not be alive to even exert my carbon footprint forget about calculating it…but yeah, nice. Then the movie begins. So Mr. Nincompoop is ruminating (in hindsight ofcourse), “Why, why didn’t we do something to stop climate change while there was still time?” So he is busy musing and I am busy shivering. You nincompoop…jerk…sitting pretty on that space age tower in dry clothes! So what if the rest of the world around you is dead and gone and devastated…you freakin’ get warm dry clothes to wear while I sit shivering in the god darned AC wearing my soaking jeans and wet sleeveless top.

@ Coffee Lady: I HATE YOU.

The film even had music…Radiohead, Depeche Mode…“These boots are made for walking, and that’s just what they’ll do. One of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you”…ok I know it’s a serious movie and I am also dying of cold…but what the heck…I love that song.

But seriously, good film that. Most of it is a string of reports and news clips from the past years (that is NOW, as Mr. Nincompoop is in 2055 going through these archives on a cool looking monitor). So these clips are put side by side, with clips from all manner of national news agencies each reporting on present-day effects of climate change, perhaps a very compelling and precise way of putting across: climate change is happening now. One of the most striking pictures for me from the movie is the wreck of the Taj Mahal in the backdrop with vultures prowling on carcasses and skeletons.

The point being made is that hindsight is a brilliant thing and that The Age of Stupid is an attempt to provide that hindsight while there is still time to act.

So the movie got over and we got all set to leave. Outside the downpour had almost come to a halt…a negligible drizzle actually. So we decide to generate some body heat and walk back to the station. Good decision that…no seriously. So walking back, we have an…ahem ahem…intelligent discussion on the film. No I’m serious. All 3 of us are actually quite intelligent *wink*.

So the premise always is that each individual can make their own individual efforts to stop global warming. No I do not doubt that, sure all of us can do that. But the question is – Is that enough? Sadly I do not think that that is the case anymore. And if you look at things very rationally and empirically, you too will say the same. Idiot 1 is right. Environmental issues these days are not solely individual issues…they are politically driven agendas. So if Fush decides to buck a nation for oil, what can individuals do about that? It’s almost horrifying that one has to fight her/his own government to save the environment. I really don’t know what more to say here so I will get back to where we were…

So we reach Lower Parel Station. Get into the train still quite wet and hungry. My stop comes and so Idiot 2 and Idiot 3 say their goodbyes to Idiot 1 who lives further off. I, by the way am Idiot 2. So Idiot 2 and Idiot 3 come out of the station and let me remind you again cabbies and rick waalas will take you only if you wanna go to Goa. So I ask a rick waala, “Will you go to XYZ?” and guess what, he says YES. Goodlord, I can’t believe my ears. So something good finally happens after all the bad getting drenched in the rain and dying in the AC of cold stuff. We enter XYZ and I ask the rick waala to take the first right turn. And I’m not even done giving directions, when he bursts, “Yeh XYZ hai madam?! XYZ toh who hai (pointing further down the road leading to the other end of XYZ. Needless to say, if we wanted to go to the rick waala’s XYZ, it would have fetched him more money).” I say nothing then, I pay the fare, get off the rick and before he can leave I say, “Nahi bhaiya, yeh XYZ nahi hai. Yeh toh Panjim hai, Goa ka capital.” He is super perplexed but I don’t bother to stay and explain. I just walk off.

Still wet and dirty mind you, I quickly go take a shower. Idiot 3 follows suit. It’s almost 12 am when I get into the kitchen to make myself some hot maggi and adrak chai. It is 12:45 am by the time I get to my room with the maggi and the chai. Ofcourse I have work tomorrow and I have to wake up early; but I sit down at my table gorging the yummmmm maggi and sipping my chai writing this…what you’ve just finished reading. And aah, I do remember someone at the film screening making this statement…“We’re all very intelligent people, we’re just trapped in disobedient lifestyles.” :P

Links you might wanna check out:

www.notstupid.org

www.no2co2.in

Do try and catch the movie if you can.

TMF

“The Rise and Fall of a King” read the headlines post Roger Federer’s 7-5, 3-6, 7-6, 3-6, 6-2 defeat to Rafael Nadal in the 2009 Australian Open Finals. The pundits declared that that was the end of RF’s dominance over the world of tennis… that his “nemesis” had finally scaled what was once thought to be insurmountable…basically it was declared that this indeed was the end of RF. He had ended the previous year pretty well…with his 5^th crown at Queens…but that did not matter…they shouted their guts out “oh but it wasn’t Nadal whom he defeated in the finals….oh but Nadal this Nadal that….” Dum dum di da da di dum dum...I sometimes feel sad for Nadal. Whenever he’s spoken of, it’s always in the context of RF…in comparison with RF…of what he did to RF…of what he could not do…I’m sure if RF did not exist, Nadal would have gotten more of his due, for what he has done and achieved for himself, the sport and his nation rather than not done or done in comparison to RF.

Ever heard the “who is the greatest of them all” debates on tennis shows? Prior to June 7, 2009; not a soul suggested the name RF whenever those debates happened. No, none of it mattered…the epic five-setter at Wimbledon ’01, the 11 singles titles in a year, the 237 consecutive weeks, the 13 majors, the forehand that was termed as “the greatest shot in the history of the sport”, the sheer genius and elegance…absolutely nothing…and why? Coz “He has never won the French.”

And then something happened.

An artist’s son produced two displays that should hang on the wall forever. Modern tennis has seen few painters like him…actually none like him. He has a broad brush and his displays are bursts of colours as well as of subtle hues. On first look he does not often seem extraordinary, but a closer examination suggests that he is a player of great beauty. A good 1 hour 55 minutes into the final of the men’s singles at the French Open 2009….5:09 pm local time (Paris)…he fell on his knees to the red earth of Roland Garros…the crowd rose to their feet…the thunder rumbled overhead…and Roger Federer redeemed a pledge to himself. Then almost a month later, in the evening sunshine on Centre Court at Wimbledon, he leapt into the air with joy, after four and a quarter hours of what can only be termed as a fitting climax, to claim his 15^th record Grand Slam Title and become tennis’ greatest men’s champion and the most succesful man in the history of the sport, watched by a legion of champions. These were moments to be frozen in history…moments that stood for triumph of resolve and the will of an individual who had simply refused to bow to what had been deemed inevitable.

But the world is full of insane people…and no, they do not suffer from insanity…it is the rest of the world that suffers as they talk!! With RF’s constant successes in his career spanning a little over 9 years, the world has high expectations…surprisingly his detractors too…now I fail to understand why they have to expect when all they want to do is criticize! And so the US Open happened…hailed as the “King of Queens” for his 5 successive crowns at Queens, after his finals loss they again declared that his “reign was over”…that he had been “dethroned”.

The trouble is that when one sees an individual like RF go about what he does best, year after year; one fails to comprehend whether he is a mortal of flesh and blood or of another world altogether. And in this state of mystification, they place him on a pedestal; hail him as god…and yet they wait for that one moment when he will falter and show some sign of his mortality…and when that moment arises, they pull the pedestal from beneath his feet and spurn him in every way possible. But just when they think they’ve seen it all from RF, he shows the world another way to break…whether it be their will or the contenders to his throne. Once again it becomes hard for the world to fathom that a mortal can produce such a precise picture…moving beautifully, thinking brilliantly…on a song. He continues to amuse, to bewilder, to confuse, to stupify…and so they hail him god yet again…stealthily waiting for the next sign of mortality as it is an obsession with the human mind to bring order to their world…in this case though, it’s turning out to be a bad obsession.

Love him or hate him…but learn to acknowledge his sheer genius and the fact that neither are we going to see the phenomenal feats he has pulled off, in our lifetime again; nor are we ever going to be able to forget (even if plagued with Alzheimer’s) the utter beauty of his sheer artistry. Learn to laud what he is to the sport and to its history. And even though RF is as close to invincible and as close to being god as any soul can be; he is a mortal who will not win every game he plays, will throw around bottles, smash racquets, use profanities when outraged and yet continue to amuse, stupify…mystify while on his quest for perfection.

Men are from earth. Women are from earth. So is RF. Deal with it!

Whirligig

Is there ever an end to mirages and dreams...

to hopes and desires...

to the flights of fantasy...

to the yearning to return to what is familiar...

eventhough upon return that familiar will be lost...

forever...

never to return.