Setu's Blog

It was 6:17 p.m. on the 11th of November, and I had just woken up. The tickets for Sachin Tendulkar's last test match in Wankhede had gone on sale at 11a.m. that morning. I had been trying to get to the tickets page and buy them on the KyaZoonga website until 3:30 that afternoon, but the website kept crashing and the page failed to open. I was diagnosed with dengue 4 days ago. I was recuperating well until the morning of the 11th. That's when the high fever returned. Regardless of my condition, I sat in front of my desk during all my wake hours. And thus, at 3:30 I had to stop my efforts to get the tickets and sleep. I needed rest. But I wanted those tickets. When I woke up, I had lost all hope to be able to get those tickets. I figured they'd have all been sold out, I was late. I made my way to my desk where the browser window had the KyaZoonga Twitter tab opened. I read their reply to someone saying the tickets were still available. And so, the mad frenzy, the sc

Disclaimer: This post doesn't have much to do with the Bollywood movie Bombay Talkies (except the few references cited), and is neither a review. It's a much broader take at the lack of acceptance of Bollywood movies and their preachings in the lifestyle of India. I don't watch many Bollywood movies, and that's for a simple reason. They are simply not good enough for me to want to waste my time on them. They are boring, pointless, excruciatingly painful to sit through (I was forced to watch Ready, twice , during my Mumbai-Pune bus journeys, so I know). Most of them are the same lovey-dovey romantic flicks, or action movies inspired from Rajnikanth, or just some dumb story with a big banner actor. In the last couple of years, I've come to enjoy movies that have a good story, or that teach me something or the other. And as I kept exploring more Hollywood classics, I realized, no Indian movie comes even close to how the movie is made, what it portrays, or how it