Movies and MiGs

airplane-659687_1280We returned to Jodhpur after a gap of seven years to find that a lot had changed. The population had crossed two million; sleek shops, showrooms and star hotels were mushrooming.

Change is inevitable and we took all this in our stride, but we were really disappointed to find that the wonderful open-air cinema had shut down and was gathering dust. It was something we all had eagerly looked forward to. But the projector no longer lit the screen. There were no movies, no crowds, no steamy samosas. Instead, a cold and deserted structure stared at us and the samosa hut was full of cobwebs.

I still remember sitting in the roofless, wall-less cinema which had moodas (straw chairs) on its circular cement steps as a substitute to the normal theatre seats. For us, it was a joy just being there in the open watching the big screen. If you by chance got bored with the movie, there was always mother nature to turn to. Movies used to start in the evening and one could enjoy the cool breeze, watch trees swaying in the background or observe clouds traveling across the sky. Those in the uppermost row were at liberty to turn back and watch proceedings elsewhere and we actually went to the open-air cinema for a sort of double entertainment.

The best movies used to be brought to town in those days , catering to all tastes. English specials and Hindi masala, classics and new releases. All this with a daily change. Anarkali to Kaaliya, Roman Holiday to Cabaret. You name it, the cinema screened it all. At less than two rupees, tickets were a steal.

Of course, there were certain disadvantages. When jets from the Jodhpur air force station flew by all the celluloid melody was drowned in noise. So night flying would see Amitabh’s choicest dialogue drowned in a deafening roar of the passing MiGs. Or there was the occasional distraction of the odd, quiet chopper slowly passing by.

When the rains came, a few who had come prepared would put on their raincoats or umbrellas and sit smugly watching the rest of the movie. Of the remaining, half would flee the place and the other half would pick up moodas and continue watching as if nothing had happened. The movie would continue amidst the chaos, with people running here and there, with the pelting rain blurring the screen and thunder roaring in tandem with the sound track.

There is talk of a revival, but I doubt if it would be taken now with the same enthusiasm as it used to be in the past. Also doubtful is the length of the cinema’s second innings.

(This article was published as an Edit Page Middle in The Indian Express newspaper on May 3, 1994)

Cricketers then and now…

Then: Used to count the runs they amassed
Now: Count the money they mint

Then: Spent hours daily in practice sessions
Now: Are fussy about their style of clothing, armbands, headbands and blackness of sunglasses

Then: Came in a clean white attire wearing their Test cap with pride
Now: Come unshaven in dirty T-shirts, wearing any old hat

Then: Were on the run in every Test and series
Now: Complacent for the series with one good innings and for the year with one good series

Then: Visiting teams occasionally blamed umpires for their defeat
Now: Umpires now are always blamed

Then: Loved to sport their country’s colours
Now: Would rather wear the sponsor’s logo

Then: Used to blame their bad form on things like lack of concentration
Now: Now blame it on things like smog and prawns

Then: At times victims of the establishment
Now: Invariably, victims of themselves

Then: Fast bowlers used to rely on the ball’s speed and swing
Now: A distorted seam and disfigured ball now relied upon

Then: Spin bowlers used to rely on their ability to spin
Now: Only a dead pitch is now relied upon

Then: Test matches were played to be won
Now: Today they are played to be drawn

Then: Symbolised the Raj
Now: Symbolises nothing

(This piece appeared in the Letters to the Editor section of Sportsworld magazine on November 3, 1993)

It’s tough being a student today…

The kids are getting smarter BUT the admissions becoming tougher

Percentages are increasing AND so are the cut-lines

Study hours are increasing AT the cost of the playing time

School bags are getting heavier AS the students are tiring

The syllabus is becoming more vast AND becoming less relevant

More knowledge is being crammed AS less is being understood

The kids are talking more OF nonsense

More laws are being by-hearted BUT less being followed

Kids are getting more exposure TO the bad things in life

Children are growing up fast AND losing all their innocence

The population is increasing in Geometric Progression (GP) WHILE the jobs are rising in Arithmetic Progression (AP)

Admission ages are getting lower AS the age of getting jobs is going higher

The literacy rate is going up BUT the standard of education is going down

More degree-holders are being churned out of colleges AT what cost?

Courses are increasing AND so is the confusion

Authorities are getting tougher BUT discipline is slackening

Mental capacity is increasing AT the cost of the physical

Tensions are mounting AND parents getting angrier

Students’ voices are strengthening BUT teachers’ voices are weakening

Students are able to solve complicated problems BUT unable to do the simple ones

More institutions are opening AND more corrupting

(This appeared in a student’s publication called Cheel in Jodhpur in August 1993)

Lords of the Last Benches

classroom-510228_1280Throughout my school and college life, I was plagued with a problem. Students all over the world will empathize with me. How does one sit through thousands of hours of classes where the teacher is boring you with incomprehensible jargon that has absolutely no relevance to your future life?

Me and my friends became LLBs (Lords of the Last Benches) at the age of ten. We tried to devise ways to kill time at the back, while the teacher was killing everyone else’s interest in the front. At first we simpletons sat straight and tried to sleep thinking we wouldn’t be noticed. But a teacher is not that dumb. Then we realized that camouflage is a much greater weapon than distance. Plan 2 was to cover a story book with a dull text and get lost in an altogether different world. The chances of getting caught are 50-50. However, these odds may vary, depending on the expertise of the student and teacher respectively. One of my friends would lift his head and look at the teacher with great concentration at the end of every paragraph he read. However, I would get totally drowned in the plot. “Rajguru! Are you listening?” would go a voice which I never would hear and face the consequences.

After that me and my friends put into motion Plan Philosopher. I would lean my chin on my hand covering my mouth, take the support of the desk and look very thoughtfully towards the teacher. My fellow philosopher would do the same and we would keep whispering and have long classroom chats. Everything went well till my bench mate developed a sense of humour. I managed to control myself at the first couple of jokes… and then he dropped a downright beauty. My laughter traveled to the end of the class.

Our biology teacher was already in his worst of moods and was teaching fungi. “Fun-geee” was the way he pronounced fungi. “Fun-geee, you bhangi! Please come here.” I knew I was in trouble. “You dare laugh at me?” he thundered and I got my first taste of Teacher Brutality. First I was yelled at in front of the whole class and then caught by my belt. Then came blows for 30 seconds, a moral lecture for a minute, blows for… This alternate process continued for what seemed like an eternity. A dazed me was forced to drop Plan Philosopher like a hot duster.

After a brief lull, I started planning strategies again. Actually it was all the holes in the desk that set me thinking. I brought a number of buttons in the class and invented Button Holing. A simple game, in which you had to thumb buttons into the holes of desks. My bench mate was skeptical at first, but decided to give it a try. We always made our moves when the teacher’s back was turned. We became quite successful and the game became a passion.

But poor me again. I always get carried away. In one particular nail-biting game, I thumbed the winning shot. The moment overwhelmed me and I jumped and yelled in triumph. This was too much even for our non-violent history teacher. I had never seen him hit anyone in the seven years I spent in that school, but I was to become an exception. I can still remember the slap of a six-foot-plus broad-shouldered giant.

I finished school a defeated boy.

Nowadays everyone seems to be coming out with a book on everything you can think of. I wish someone authored a book, 101 Things to do in a Boring Class. That definitely would have been a help.

© Sunil Rajguru