Road, Movie: Strictly, Okay

There was ample anticipation for this one. Dev Benegal’s tie up with Abhay Deol, or Abhay Deol’s tie up with Dev Benegal—depending on which side of the fence you’re on. But as much as the opening shot might grab you, the scene that unfolds thereafter is begging for better actors, a better script and better timing. There’s not much beyond the cinematography or the music in those opening minutes of the movie, and that seems to set a precedent for the rest of it.

The acting by the four main characters, who, barring the Deol, make their appearances at odd moments, is shoddier than you'd expect. Perhaps thanks to a weak script that bares its naivety with lines that display a tea-stall boy’s unlikely knowledge of Starbucks and Abhay Deol’s trysts with weeds as makeshift toilet paper. Satish Kaushik shines, for the majority of this story, despite everything else working against him.

There’s a deeper story that the director tries to capture, unsuccessfully, as he, and we, get lost in surrealism, minimalism and the marketing of manhood.

And one more thing: I have come to believe that we’ve all been fooled into thinking Abhay Deol’s a good actor—which is not to say he’s to blame, perhaps he’s been fooled just like we were. But some director, somewhere, handed him a script that demanded he act like himself. And he did. And he’s a fairly interesting chap. And we thought, “Wow, he’s really underplaying this role! Subtlety is so refreshing in popular Indian cinema.” But that’s just Abhay Deol…on a Friday night or a Sunday afternoon.

Still, for all its flaws, I didn't feel like I'd just wasted 90-odd minutes of my life. Though I could've spent it better, I'm sure.

A whiskey and coke, please. And hold the whiskey.

There's something wrong with the title of this post, right? Shouldn't it be, "And hold the coke."? I mean, who drinks whiskey with coke anyway?

But this isn't a post about the right way to drink whiskey (neat, or on the rocks---and if you must dilute, then water or soda, please!). This is a post about my ongoing struggle with sobriety. Yes, my blog-lovin' public, I've given up alcohol for Lent and it's not going very well. No, I haven't fallen off the wagon (or gotten on the wagon? Okay, let's not turn this into a rehash of Seinfeld). But it is getting harder and harder to not order a bottle of Carlsberg or a whiskey large, on the rocks.

I've never really understood teetotallers, or envied them, for that matter. But I have occasionally looked at my sometimes-abstaining buddy and been impressed by his ability to sit in Toto's, not drink, and still have a blast.

I am not that big a man, sorry.

A recent outing to Toto's proved that. Having not gotten there early enough to get a table, we resigned ourselves to standing in the proximity of the bar. Bad decision. Because if there's one place you don't want to be when it's just 10 o'clock and people have only just begun to pour in, it's near the bar. By the time we realised this, however, it was too late.

But as time passed, and everyone else got a little sloshed, they also got a lot more flexible. I didn't.

Toto's turned out to be loud, crowded and full of drunk people. Why on Earth would I want to stay there? And so began my efforts to shift this party elsewhere. Which, once I'd convinced people we could find some place better, we did.

And 5 Spice was quiet...er. From loud drunk people, to loud sober people (and kids). Eventually, though, we got out of there too. And moved the party to my place. Where everyone drank some more.

I've been counting the number of times everyone's decided to go drinking randomly this month. And counting down the number of days till I'll be able to drink again.

The only thing keeping me going is the fact that I don't spend as much as all my friends who're busy getting drunk. Of course, then I go spend it all on coffee and cigarettes.

I guess I know what I'm giving up for Lent next year.

(Cigarettes? Are you nuts!? Coffee, of course.)