The next morning we went to the Padmanabhaswami temple which houses the reclining Vishnu and is said to have been erected in the first years of the Kaliyug. That’s 5000 years for you. I am sure the carbon dating tests do not match up to the claim but the thought of standing in a building that old is nice and humbling. The fact however is that the construction of the present building is approximately a thousand years old and was made with the help of Chinese workmen. Their influence is unmistakable in the sculpture. The most remarkable feature was the floor, which is made of vegetable dyes and egg white and feels like soft rubber. The main entrance of the temple, which is called the gopuram, is entirely made of powdered sea shells and featured with incidents of Hindu mythology in paintings as well as sculpture.
Kanyakumari was next on the tour plan. We started early, which means as early as 10 in the morning, what with the kids screaming, the lunch getting packed and general chaos all around. Great fun nevertheless! So off we went in the Sumo we had hired. No sooner had we crossed the city that it started raining. Amidst the traffic there was a sudden screeching of brakes and an auto rickshaw rammed into the back of our Sumo. We got down and confronted a sheepish looking Keralite fellow. Unable to speak Malyalam I gestured with my hands ‘what happened?’ The fellow just stuck out his tongue and smiled and the matter ended there as there was not much damage to either of the vehicles.
The road to Kanyakumari is specked with small villages and towns which one keeps crossing with such frequency that one never really gets the feeling of being on a highway. The empty spaces are lush green in the classic Kerala style. Of course the cloudy day made the journey pleasurable. Our first stop was Padmanabhapuram, the capital of the Travancore kings. The present lineage is of the Verma royalty. The Keralite family system is matriarchal. Hence the King (poor chap) is not allowed to marry. But he can have as many concubines as he wants (lucky dog). So it is the son of the sister who succeeds the King and the sister is regarded as the Queen. The palace of the King at Padmanabhapuram is different from the opulent variety of the north. It is the grandeur of exquisite wood craftsmanship, which captures the eye. The floors of some of the rooms have been made as I explained earlier. Even the bed of the King is made from some kind of wooden contraption having medicinal properties. The tour of the palace over we had a quick lunch of aloo poories and departed for Kanyakumari.
I had been to Kanyakumari once before in 1984, during one of the training courses while under probation in the Bank. In 16 years the face of the place has changed beyond recognition. What was once a laid back place lazily receptive to curious visitors has now become a concrete monster dotted with street smart vendors of curios at every step of the way. We quickly made our way to the ferry that takes one to the island of Rock Memorial, where Swami Vivekanand is reputed to have meditated at one time. Right next to it is another island where a massive statue of the Tamil poet Perivayoor( I hope I got the name right) has been erected. The Rock Memorial has lost some of its exclusivity after the statue’s installation. The quick pilgrimage over we headed back to Trivendrum. A few kilometers away is a place called Suchindran, which as per legend was rediscovered about 500 years ago. It houses a unique multi deity temple. The triumvirate of the Hindu gods is represented by a single figure of stone. There is also an eighteen feet high statue of Hanuman, which the devout cover, with offerings of fresh butter and betel leaves. There is another temple where it is believed that the God of Rain, Indra comes every night to take a bath. Why he needs to bathe at night puzzles me? Probably the daytime water availability is poor.
The piece-de-resistance however are the pillars outside the sanctum sanctorum. Carved out of single blocks of stones these pillars are a combination of smaller pillars, which are hollow from the inside. On beating them one by one the seven basic musical notes can be distinctively heard. On another set it is the different sounds of drums. We were in time for the Aarti so we stayed back. They had this mechanical contraption which when turned on played the drum and cymbals together to a pre determined rhythm. It was an effective accompaniment to the Vedic chants of the black clad priests and the blaring of conches and pipes. The experience is deeply moving. We went back to Trivendrum merrily singing aided with much needed beer.
As per our original plan we were supposed to fly to Cochin but wiser counsel prevailed and we decided to drive the 500 kms from Trivendrum covering Kerala at a stretch. As it turned out it was terrific choice, thanks to my cousin’s insistence. The first stop was a Place called Varkala Beach. Well,one has to go up a cliff before going down a rocky path to the sea. The wind ruffles your hair and makes those crazy sounds and one has a beautiful view of the sea stretching for endless miles. Calm and serene… remember the movie “EK DOOJE KE LIYE”. The last scene where the star-crossed lovers die falling from the rocks. Well this place was something like that … only I did not slip. From there we went onwards about 15 kilometers down road and arrived at a fishermen’s village be the sea side. There was a small restaurant where we decided to eat. Since we were the probably the first customers in the past few weeks the Matre De grandly announced that the table will be set in about an hours time. Hunger taking precedence over anger we politely asked him if a boat could be rented to cover the backwaters (Backwater incidentally is seawater locked by land due to breaches in the coast or high tide spilling water overland). The Matre De regally told us that that was just what he had in mind. He blew a whistle and Lo & Behold a long boat arrived to take the hungry souls on an hour-long trip. I suspect these guys had an arrangement where he would calmly delay the arrival if the food was not ready in the allotted time. Anyway the backwater experience was not bad at all. This particular place was full of the Portuguese Man of War, which for the uninitiated is a jellyfish. It’s a poisonous creature but beautiful to look at, just like half of the fairer sex. So everybody merrily sang and got photographed and tried to forget the hunger pangs. The hour passed quickly, the Matre De took pity, the boat returned and the ravenous group attacked the food and took no prisoners. The chicken, Dosas, Rice etc. vanished at an alarming rate. The Matre De wore a harried look and was panting, running to and fro from the kitchen. Served him right! From there to Cochin was a long ride between the lush palm trees and green, green, green all around. The place gets to you. We reached Cochin late in the evening. Arrangements for our stay had made in the mess in the Southern Naval Command HQS. So everybody crashed after a leisurely Chinese Meal where a lobster was added to my considerable gastronomic repertoire. The next morning we quickly took a round of Cochin, which included a high seas ride to an island where in solitary glory, is the Buggati Palace. This place was built in the 18th Century by a Dutch trader and later taken over by the British who used it as the Residency till independence. It’s being restored to its former glory and then would be used as a Hotel.
On the 29 Th Dec we beat the clock to reach Cochin airport on time only to find that the flight was delayed by an hour. So we waited and waited…it was tough as the anticipation of reaching Goa was strong and any delay was brooked with irritation and boredom. Any way the time passed, the plane arrived and off we went to paradise. But more of that later.

And I thought that Anurag Kashyap had really excelled himself in Dev D, especially since messing with a proven classic can be a tricky proposition. He succeeded and eminently so! Barely had I recovered from that awesome movie that AK has unleashed another explosion of emotions with a relentless assault on our sensibilities. Set amidst the feudal ethos of Rajasthan the story is about the pursuit of ambition, accumulation of power, innocent & betrayed love. In true Shakespearean milieu there are plots and sub plots and yet some more hidden beneath them but each interconnected to finally merge in the inevitable climax so much like a Greek tragedy.

Barring Kay Kay Menon nearly everybody is a fresh face. The main lead Raja Singh Chaudhary is also the author of the story revolving around student politics which was rewritten by Anurag Kashyap and Aparna Chaturvedi after incorporating rebellious regional aspirations sequential to the perceived injustices by the state. So very contemporary and yet so well portrayed! Kay Kay is the parochial manipulator who uses the students’ politics to build a cadre for pursuing his secessionist agenda.

Abhinayu Pratap Singh is the reclusive & reckless prince trying to hide from the riches of his father. Aditya Srivastava & Ayesha Mohan are the prince’s half blood Machiavellian siblings whose yearning for legitimacy drives them to deception and murder. Deepak Dobriyal is Kay Kay’s main hit man and Man Friday. Mahie Gill as Kay Kay’s mistress impresses once again with her vivaciousness & natural acting ability. Jesse Randhawa’s walk from the ramp to the screen shows a lot of promise.

I have to dedicate a separate paragraph to Piyush Mishra. The man has till now played bit roles in sundry movies and penned the script for Black Friday but in this pic he writes, he composes the music, sings and acts too. This will easily be one of the performances of the year if not the decade. First the music! Don’t gloss over the songs. Hear them; hear the lyrics and you will be bowled over. While “Arambh hai prachand” sounds the battle cry, his rendition of “Duniya” which is a take on Pyaasa’s classic “Yeh Duniya Agar Mil Bhi Jaye To Kya hai” manages to retain its integrity and freshness. The mujra song “Rana ji” has to be one of the most original I have heard in a long time. Using traditional language and style, the lyrics go global without a warning. So with the sexy thumka of Mahie Gill you are suddenly presented with an in your face commentary on 9/11 (Jaise door desh ke tower main ghus jaye re aeroplane), Iraq, Afghanistan, democracy and the cola wars. Whacky imagination at its best! Another beautiful composition is “Sheher” sung along with the talented Swanand Kirkire (Remember Khoya Khoya Chand). Mishra plays the role of the schizophrenic musician elder brother of Kay Kay. He idolizes John Lennon, composes on the spot poetry and has an opinion on everything. The pathos on his face after he loses his dancing consort is heart breaking.

I feel Anurag Kashyap is not an ordinary movie maker. His movies are like a painting canvas where he tries to marry various art forms. If the music resounds of folk songs and fine poetry the shots of the practicing Ram Leela characters impart a theatre like color. If one song reminds you of the wandering minstrels the other carries the guitar strums of western country music. He is also a diehard romantic. Look for John Lennon’s sketch peeking out from the mad poet’s medallion and posters of Che Guvera and Jimmy Hendrix set in a neon lit bar masquerading as a residence in the middle of the desert. For me this is better than any art/parallel cinema.

You the normal ones are in a majority and history tells us that popular opinion is, well, never the intellectual opinion. So recognize the properties of the couch potatoes. The future is going to be foretold by them for they have the time. Fathom their inherent goodness! We are immune to the vagaries of pollution. We are never in conflict with the rule of the road. We do not come in the way of the law of the kitchen, other than when popcorn is necessary for enjoying a rib tickling comedy. We are destined to control life at our fingertips, for that we must do.

We drive with Matt Damon on the roads of Goa, become the fastest aviator in the world with Leonardo DeCaprio, make offers no one can refuse, become kings of the world riding the crest of ocean waves, save the Private Ryan, hunt for lost treasures alongside Indiana Jones, survive the nightmares on the Elm Street, dance the salsa with Vanessa “The Sexy” Williams and get to serenade the most beautiful women. Ah, it couldn’t get any better. Long live the remote.

Deg main daalo tel. Get hold of some tej patta, moti and chhoti ilaichi, some laung and let it loose in the simmering oil. Put your lovely face on top of the smoldering cauldron and take a deep breath. The aroma ought to be equivalent of putting you back by one drink. Now throw in the chopped onions (3 to a kg). While they fry go to the bar to make a decent drink, preferably 90 cc of a good whisky with or without water and a lot of ice. Run to the kitchen and add a few heaps of ginger garlic paste to the almost done onions. A few swirls in the cooker and a few swigs later let the meat enter. And now turn turn turn. Turn till the kingdom come for this shall make or break your reputation as a cook.

Go back to your bar again, this time increase the quantity of booze and decrease the water. This is very important. Finish half the glass and run back to the kitchen. Turn turn. By now the color of flesh, yours as well as the one at your mercy ought to change. (Note: If yours is constant go back to the bar again. For all others revert back to the previous sentence). Flap your hands and seek three spoons of ground coriander, one of haldi and one of garam masala, the desired salt and flip em all into the cooker.

Turn turn turn. And turn right back and finish the glass that you left half finished. Pour another one and carry this one to the kitchen. Grind about seven to eight green chillies and mix them with about four red tomatoes. Now add this to the meat and mix well. Wait for this to mix and boil and finish your drink. Put the lid on the cooker and walk back to the bar, slowly and steadily. Recharge your glass, turn on Mozart’s 25th Symphony in G Minor and dream. In the midst of your heaven the cooker shall yell its first whistle. Put the burner flame on low and go back to your fantasies. Spend ten minutes dreaming of the unattainable and turn off the flame (pun unintended).

Have another drink, change and go to sleep. By now you are on no position to eat. In any case this stuff always tastes better the next day.

Everything about this movie whether its the conceptualization by Abhay Deol, the music by Amit Trivedi and the loving strokes of superb direction by Anurag Kashyap is off beat. After a no go “No Smoking” he has struck back and how. Man, its mind blowing. Sarat Chandra’s classic has been given a contemporary look and interpretation which I thought was pretty near to my idea of the kind of guy Dev Das was namely a weak, self centered, addictive loser. And Abhay Deol has done enormous justice to the lead role.

While the principal characters of the original classic remain the same, their backgrounds and events affecting their lives have been cleverly changed. The Bengali feudal has been replaced by a Punjabi industrialist. The rural backdrop remains the same. Paro assumes the avatar of the classic Punjabi belle freely mouthing abuses and completely obsessed with her childhood sweetheart. For a first timer Mahie Gill, a Chandigarh lass, has done a classy portrayal of Paro. Her total submission to her lover receives a rude jolt when the object of her affection spurns her on suspicions of promiscuous conduct. Of course it’s another matter that he has no problems sowing his wild oats at the first available opportunity. She tries to prevent the shattering of a lifelong dream but consents to marry a widower following the obdurate attitude of Dev. He on the other hand becomes a prisoner of his suspicions and his desire for Paro whose marriage triggers his descent into the abyss of alcoholic stupor and drug induced hallucinations.

Anurag Kashyap then uses the DPS MMS episode to introduce the character of Leni who is disgraced by public opprobrium, abandoned by her family and finally becomes a high priced escort Chanda, played by Kalki Koechlin who is really the surprise package of the movie. A beautiful girl of French stock with a pronounced pout a la Brigitte Bardot she took my heart away, crooked teeth and all.

A drunken Dev who after abandoning the mustard fields of Punjab is exploring the depths of despair in the dark underbelly of Delhi literally falls into her arms. Initially Dev’s single minded indulgence in drinking marathons in between fantasizing of a reunion with Paro comes in his way of crystallizing any kind of relationship with Chanda. But after Paro tells him off he comes to realize that there is more to Chanda than just fancy costumes designed to titillate her customers. But then he mows down seven people under his car driving under the influence of Vodka and his demons. It also jolts him back to reality.

While the performances of all the actors are amazing a special mention needs to be made of the music. This is Amit Trivedi’s second film after Aamir but this new kid on the block has composed some exemplary music and has a great deal of promise. Each song has a different kind of sound. It’s a delightful pot pourri of Sufi music, Punjabi folk and western drum rolls.

While the soulful rendition of “Pardesi” by Toshi takes your breath away the retro classic dance by the trio of Sinbad Phgura, Ammo ‘Too Sweet’ and Jimi ‘The Quiff’ could be one’s sole reason to watch the movie again. “Emosanal Atyachaar” with the music by Chandigarh’s very own Harish Band is another riot. It’s the watered down censored version which has been used in the movie. The original which is available on the Net is guaranteed to make your ears go red and I must warn that only those who can stomach the classic Hindi profanities may venture forth in listening to it.

The movie is a modern interpretation of a timeless classic story and it has been crafted with good performances, slick editing and set to great music. The language may not appeal to everyone’s sensibilities but apart from that it’s nearly flawless. It’s outstanding stuff and eminently watchable but of course without your kids or parents along. The ‘A’ rating is more than justified.

This is where the young Turks take it away from the pretenders. Bole to.. Subash Ghai, Yash Chopra and the likes of them. Let the young ones soar now. And, Ladies & Gentlemen, I am so glad to report that my fantasies are finally coming true. The new order IS taking over. Original ideas are being shaped with skill and imagination. After more than half a lifetime of being fed escapist rubbish by the so called dream merchants and showmen I am finally enjoying good cinema unleashed by a string of young movie makers. Delhi 6 is a worthy successor to Rang De Basanti and Rakeysh Om Parkash Mehra emphatically proves that he is not a one trick pony.

Abhishek Bachchan is the American born desi who volunteers to accompany his grandmother, Waheeda Rehman (I love her so) back to her roots all the way from New York to the by lanes of Chandni Chowk which is Delhi 6 for the uninformed and those lost in the cyber world who have forgotten the postal addresses used in the romantic days of letter writing. This in itself was enough to make me go all nostalgic about the days when I would wait and wait for my Chammak Challo’s letters.

On his first trip to India the grandson discovers the world of myriad hues that constitutes the Indian society. There are so many characters in the movie and each one of them so distinctive. Yet the amalgamation of their role in the story is so effortless which is a tribute not only to their acting skills but also to the screenplay and of course the directorial genius.

Abhishek’s intended journey as a chaperone quickly changes into a discovery of that mystic fabric which binds people of different religions and social standards, a realization of the weaknesses and prejudices which breaks the façade of harmony only to rewind into normalcy again. It’s this mad medley of love, hate, rigidity and tolerance which makes Indians what they are and Mehra has eminently succeeded in condensing that macro picture into one neighborhood of Chandni Chowk.

There are way too many good characterizations to find individual appreciation here but I have to single out Deepak Dobriyal for his brilliant portrayal of the Muslim Jalebiwallah who becomes the target of the ire of religious bigots and of course Vijay Raaz as the classical Delhi cop. His Haryanvi accented dialogue delivery is a delight to watch.

Cyrus Sahukar as the photographer who is cuckolding Prem Chopra, the rich money lender, plays a charming cameo. Abhishek, as the bewildered westerner, has suitably underplayed his character. Sonam Kapoor is naturally vivacious and can only get better. Rishi Kapoor is looking more and more like his great father. Atul Kulkarni has put on some weight but still comes good as the slow witted butt of all jokes.

There are numerous scenes which have been beautifully composed but the surprising one was the Ram Leela. It took me back forty years when as a young lad I had seen the old Delhi Ram Leela for the first and only time. The images are still fresh in my mind and lo behold I was reliving the experience all over again. Raghbir Yadav has lent his voice to the musical rendition of the timeless epic. All the classical touches of theatre artistry are there to see especially the scene of the flying Vanars and of Ravan encountering the Lakshman Rekha.

Mehra also cocks a snook at self serving politicians with their mandir-masjid politics and the plethora of news channels which find merit in repeating ad nauseam the most ridiculous of news. The photography reveals the love for the old city. Panoramic shots of the Jama Masjid, Red Fort and the skyline of old Delhi is simply breathtaking.

A R Rehman’s compositions are great. The beautifully sung “Masakali” by Mohit Chauhan brings alive the spontaneity of Sonam’s character. Kailash Kher & Javed Ali have put their heart into the soul stirring “Arzian”. A spiritual song is in every movie is almost becoming a norm with Rehman which is not a bad thing at all. But my favourite is the title song by Blaaze,Benny Dayal, Vivinenne, Tanvi & Claire. After all “Yeh Dilli hai mere yaar”. Go, watch & feel alive.

One has to be a die hard cynic or with a severe case of reverse snobbery not to fall in love with a work of genius such as this. I have two words for you. Simply awesome. What I loved about the movie was that the idea of the story was penned by an Indian, Vikas Swarup, co directed by an Indian, Loveleen Tandon and infused with heart moving music by an Indian, A R Rehman. Ah, but he belongs to the world now. Great script, fantastic editing, slick direction. Danny Boy(le), Golden Globes was just the first halt and you shall be taking bows at the BAFTAs and Oscars as well. It’s amazing how a foreigner has connected so emphatically with the local ethos and the dark underbelly of Mumbai. Even the local idiom has been paid homage to. I feel that to truly appreciate the movie it should be seen in both the Hindi and English versions.

A simple story has been woven into an audio visual delight. Jamal, a street kid(slumdog if you will) appears on a game show a la “Kaun Banega Carorepati” and from a shaky starts finds himself on the verge of winning the grand prize. He is about to be asked the final question when the show time ends and is rolled over to the next episode of the show. How is it that an ordinary guy from the slums of Amchi Mumbai knows all the right answers, well almost?

The celebrity host played by Anil Kapoor gets suspicious and gets Jamal arrested for investigation of possible fraud. He is interrogated by the Inspector/Constable team of Irfan Khan and Saurabh Shukla who use all the lovely techniques of torture and casual brutality known to the Indian police. Jamal’s answers to the prods of police form the narrative of the movie. Answer by answer he takes us through the tumultuous journey of his life right from his childhood to his present youth. In life and not in the text books is where the education of most of the under privileged like Jamal lies.

The characterization of the little Jamal & his brother by Ayush Mahesh Khedekar & Azharuddin Mohammad Ismail are an inspired choice. The two little hoodlums steal your heart with their bunny dunny acts. Their flight, with the police hot on their heels & chasing them through the maze of the slums ought to be a classic of sorts. The raw energy of the running children and rapidly changing camera shots mixed with the reverberating beats of “O Saya” set your adrenalin racing. The whining guardians of the Indian culture might cringe at candid shots of shit holes but reality wins here. The same would have been deified as art cinema had the Director’s surname been a Benegal or a Ray or a Kaul.

Bully for you Danny Boyle. The innocence of the boys is almost crushed by political scum but they rise again to happiness and a degree of affluence using the time honored Old Man Fagin’s tricks in stealing and picking pockets. The love interest of Jamal is played by Frieda Pinto, easily one of the prettiest faces to hit the screen in the recent past.

The director’s earlier experience of making “Trainspotting” comes in hugely handy in directing the train sequences. Throughout the movie the visuals are simply stunning. From the streets and slums of Mumbai to the ghats of Kanpur, from the Taj on the banks of Jamuna to hills of west India Boyle doesn’t miss a trick in celebrating the mad romance and beauty of India. And all this is set to the beautiful and haunting melodies of Rehman. U.K’s hip hop artist M.I.A’s collaboration in the two numbers, “Paper Planes” and “O saya” are exemplary. The ultimate celebration of joy “Jai Ho” sung by the irrepressible Sukhwinder Singh was surprisingly accompanied by a deft jig by the cast & the crew (I presume). Superb stuff.

Am I panting? But then movies like this come along once in a while. Phone a friend, go and enjoy the experience. It’s exquisite. Jai Ho!!

I, may or may not like it but life/kids/nieces are bent upon making me believe that I am aging. So how? Sean Connery is in danger of becoming a memory? Roger Moore’s wrought features are no advertisement for the Bond brand. Pierce Brosnan’s awful flirtation with the Man’s role has mercifully come to an end.

So where do I have a problem? None really! I sayeth cause it cometh! This movie starts like no other. There is no traditional gun barrel sequence of the Berretta shooting at you with Bond bending sideways. No strains of the old familiar music. Bond has changed. In more ways than one, actually. There are quite a few firsts for Bond here.

For starters this movie is not a stand alone story. Our man has got his emotions on a high and so goes on a revenge trail. Revenge for Casino Royale’s Vesper’s death. Who the hell was she? Oh, Bond’s love interest who committed suicide? What the devil is happening here? An uncertain ending in Casino Royale and a pursuit in the sequel? Yup and so for the first time Bond is not chasing a villain who is out to destroy the world or neutralizing a Russian Mafiosi but following his emotions.

How sweet but I can tolerate Daniel Craig in a love sick mode only once. A quarter of a century ago in “On Her Majesty’s Secret Service”, George Lazenby who was the worst Bond ever, fell in love and even got married (horrors) but mercifully the wife gets bumped off in the end. The Bonds of this world are supposed to simply love ‘em and leave ‘em. Surely they can’t be married and still be in business.

The next worst thing is a brooding Bond who behind the garb of chasing villains is actually seeking to destroy the guy indirectly responsible for his girl friend’s suicide. He has forgotten to laugh. There are no gadgets so no Mr. Q. The same guy plays Felix Leiter twice in succession. Bond does not sleep with the heroine! The famous martini, shaken not stirred is missing. And not once does he mouth, “My name is Bond, James Bond”. Yessir Bond has changed. Commensurate with the new age Bond the villain is no longer threatening the world order but seeking to control the water supply of Bolivia (whatever the hell for?). Mathieu Amalric plays the pseudo environmentalist who is a leading member of the evil organization Quantum responsible for Vesper’s suicide.

He is the corporate face of the modern day villainy and does a splendid job of looking creepy. The long legged lass Olga Kurylenko plays the first Bond girl not to share his bed but what the hell, brooding lovers lose their desire anyway. She too is on a revenge trail. This story seems to be an adaptation of a million Westerns of the revenge theme. Only the horses were missing. Judy Dench as M is getting classier by the day. All women ought to age like her. Of all the Bond women the one I miss the most is Miss Money penny.

I wonder why she has disappeared. Bond’s flirtation with her has always been one of the most endearing scenes of this spy saga.
However all is not lost. The gadgetry may have made an exit which is not such a bad thing after all but the intensely raw and physical action in its place is simply awesome. Craig with his superbly fit physique carries it off with eminence. Free style running which made its debut in the last movie does an encore here.

It’s beautiful to watch. The Aston Martin makes a singular appearance in the breathtaking car chase at the beginning of the movie. Another highlight of the gripping action is the dog fight between an ancient Dakota and a fighter plane. The last I saw of Dakotas was in the Indiana Jones movies which are period pieces but its featuring in a contemporary story was a pleasant surprise. Miss Moneypenny may be missing but there is another beauty by the name of Strawberry Fields!

The casting director must be a Beatles fan and I would like to think a Bond buff because the manner of her killing is reminiscent of Goldfinger’s penchant for killing by applying gold paint on the victim’s body. Only this time oil replaces gold. Sign of changing times? But then Bond has changed, right? However I am never going to forgive the makers for removing the signature tune of Bond movies. The title song ‘Another way to die’ by Jack White and Alicia Keys is a piece of forgettable trash which will never find a place in my cherished collection of the Bond songs.

I am a die hard Ian Fleming/Bond fan so I have my observations and reservations but like all Bond movies this one too is hugely enjoyable. Only guys like me start thinking. Why is Bond changing? Well, isn’t everything around us changing too? But the sanctity of some things ought to be maintained. The aura of Commander James Bond is one such thing and it should not be messed around with.