Movie Review: Ajab p…ppp…fff..frame ki ggga…ga…gg..jab Kahani

Beat this – you are walking down the street with your girlfriend, and someone stops you and asks you if you are interested in a trip to Hawaii. All for 50 bucks. You say yes, very eagerly so. The dude then points you to the latest brand of Hawaii chappal. All for 50 bucks. That’s what Ajab Prem Ki Gajab Kahani Is.

It’s  A-JAB to break your FRAME.  APKGK is A movie that Santoshi made PK .

I had walked into the theater with high hopes, expecting to see a movie which was going to be different (these guys have also come up with APKGK comics as well, hum-tum style). The theater was housefull. India had just lost a match despite a thunderous innings from Sachin while chasing 351. The mood was somber, and a good light hearted comedy could have just been the right solution. But alas – Indian film-makers are rapists. They try to get you in a corner and rape you.  Of your sensibilities, money, and worst of all, your sense of humor.

The movie starts with a random Lord Hastings’ (or some Lord from Brit Era) mannequin harassing a dumb reporter looking for an “Ajab” story in this unnamed place, where nobody is to be seen. I knew that it’s likely going all downhill from here. But I had paid 300 bucks, and I had liked some of the songs. And I knew that Katrina Kaif was yet to come. At least there will be some visual delight in the movie.  That’s what I meant by cornering the unsuspecting audience like me.

After introducing an extremely over the top Ranbir Kapoor who has no idea why the bloody character of Prem was created in the first place, they introduce a “talking” Katz. C’mon, give me a break. Who pays money to hear Katz talk. She is supposed to walk in, look good, wear good dresses, smile a little, mumble some innocuous things, and dance, and make merry and leave. I would like to believe that Biwi is also usually happy to see Katz, for she might get some good dress, pumps and boot ideas.  But Santoshi does the unthinkable. She wants Katz to act. So here she is, stammering when she is upset, trying to act out of her skin. Totally justifying the salary she might be getting, she gets emotional, defends a set of mean foster parents, goes around town with Frame (that’s what it sounds like when Jenny calls out for Prem), and in the whole process, disappoints us beyond redemption. Sometimes, I wonder if the stammer-when-I-am-upset track was introduced simply to cover for Katz’s exquisity dialogue delivery.

Prem hangs out perennially with his friends, helping other people elope with their lovers. Not doing anything worthwhile, he runs happy club, which has no members, apparently. People come to play carrom, TT, etc. to happy club. And Prem is the smartest cookie in town, who is 9^th fail, and he also stammers when upset. The character is so over the top that in one scene he actually falls from the top of a cliff, bicycle and thief asunder. The same thief vows revenge, and later becomes Don bhai, but the director forgets to remind him of his earlier reason of anger with Frame.  And so, they indulge in Priyadarshan style mindless fight scene where everyone is hitting everyone.

To be honest, I don’t have anything against Ranbir. I liked him in the bad movie Bachna Ae Haseeno, as well as the good movie “wake up sid”. I think the dood has potential if he can get over his doped look. But he is like Yuvraj Singh right now. Got sweet timing does not mean you can hit every ball outta the park. The characterization of frame is all over the place. In one shot, he is good for nothing. In another, he makes more than 5k per month just working as a halwai shop assistant. He walks to the halwai shop in a tie and shirt. Indian halwais sure are sure going places.

The worst though is reserved for a so-called special appearance from “Upen Patel”. Remember the UK return patel duuuude, who has acted in several movies as the sidekick now (like 36 China Town, Namastey London, etc.). His accent in the movie is thicker than waddi glass of lassi from Punjab, and surely thicker than Katz’s accent. He is a dude who is ready to settle down in Frankfurt and buy a Ferrai for Katz (Jenny). Frankfurt-Ferrari-Ferrari-Frankfurt.. you know.. the works… yeah yeah.. And buys a 1.5 Crore necklace for Jenny. And Jenny leaves him still. It’s got to be his extremely amazing histrionic skills that embarrassed Katz. How can I be seen with someone who looks like a patchwork and acts worse than Sunil Shetty in Balwan!!!

There are some saving graces – the best scenes of the movie are reserved for baap-beta interactions between Ranbir and Darshan Zariwala. Even though an extremely loud and hamming performance, Darshan still manages to deliver a few really funny ones.  Smita Jaykar as the mother is absolutely wonderful, especially in the scene where she is trying to stop Darshan from going to the bathroom because Katz is already in there. There is one scene where Ranbir comes with Jenny to a dance party. Slightly OTT, but Ranbir is fabulous in that scene.

The songs are good. But usually misplaced. In one song (kaise batayein), you almost get a feeling that it’s a Diamond ad. Not my company Diamond, but like a real Diamond. The kinds where actresses are wearing blank long dresses, and the brightness is artificially low, so that the glitter of the diamond is for everyone to see. Remember? Yeah, that kinds.  In another song, the whole city dances singing “Prem ki naiya hai ram ke bharose”. Yep. And it seems Allah Meherbaan to Gadha Pehelwaan. Nikhat Kazmi finds the movie to be worth four bloody stars. And I am sure there are others in his (or her?) ilk, who will find the movie adorable because Ranbir and Katz just look gorgeous on the screen.  Or, something like that.

In Masand style – I will go in with 1 star for this one, since it’s a bad movie, with a bad story, with bad characterizations, supported by bad acting and bad direction and  bad editing. The one star is for good songs, Smita Jaykar, and the Turkey shots in Kaise Batayein (given my recent trip to Turkey, I have an attachment to the place).

 

p.s. Turkey shots? ahem ahem… i am trying to imagine what it would be like to take turkey shots!! quite disturbing i guess!

Movie Review: Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen

Have you, during Diwali times, ever put a can on those tiny little bombs only to watch it explode into smithereens or get flung away to unimaginable corners? Did you clap your hands in joy as it hit the nearby car or give yourself a high-five as you the shards of that erstwhile can fall to the ground? Then I believe you will love Transformers part deux too!

There are a lot of explosions, a lot of autobots and a lot of decepticons. There are the twins. There are the female autobots transforming into bikes (wiki search reveals three of them having a common consciousness, phew!) that got owned without too much of a fight, and there is the amazing devastator which seems like drawing upon its body parts by assembling a collection of automotives. There is Sam and Mikaela, with Sam doing the witwicky do and Mikaela holding her looks together. The useless parents for being comic and creating problems during the action sequence. There is Leo and Agent Simmons that add some more comic stuff (and I actually think they did add a few comic moments). But primarily, there are the large cool transforming machines that they call Transformers. The revival of an old decepticon “Jetfire” who walks around with a walking stick, and has chosen to switch sides and be with the autobots is quite funny in fact.  This is the quintessential Michael Bay with larger than life action, airplanes and tanks and people and machines exploding in your face, and the protagonist surviving all odds without having to explain why (or rather because he or she is the chosen one). Bayesian action gets contained by the dollars he can put aside, it seems. But it’s all good. It’s all fun. It’s all crazy. And that’s where the heart of the movie is (at least for me). I don’t want to watch a TROTF for its loopy/ retro/ kickass storyline, nor for the amazing acting skills of the team put together. All that is just frills or as we call it in my world, animation on the PowerPoint slides. The real stuff is the seriously “exploding” action. And there is plenty of it.

I and the others I watched with (Biwi, Sumant, Dodi & Divya) felt that this time round, it was far more difficult to differentiate between the good guys and the bad guys during the fight sequences. In many of the scenes, the action seemed muddled up and not very clear on who’s getting thulped. There was a time when Mr. Prime was getting thulped and I thought he was winning, and just when I thought he was getting thulped, he power charged his blades to crap the opposition.

Unsurprisingly, the movie gets bollywoodesque at times, with the hero almost dying before coming back to life, an Optimus Prime dying and getting revived and usual heroics from Galloway, Simmons et al.

Overall, I liked the movie a lot. For me, its 2 hours+ of engaging intense action sequences, and because Bay does not waste a time with pleasantries, I did not feel bad about him not developing the characters or explaining a few things here and there (like the leftover shard of the cube absorbed by Jetfire and never mentioned thereafter or the fact that if Devastator could have been taken out with a single strike, why not the other ones). My only grudge – Unlike Megatron from the first movie, “Fallen” looks like a pathetic and incompetent villain for such enormous action.

Watch it if you love explosive action. That’s what Transformers is all about. I will go in with a 4 on 5! It’s my kind of movie! J

BTW – my PJ from my Twit feed – what if instead of NEST/Autobots, Optimus Prime was chosen as the leader of a coalition government in India? He would be SUB-Optimus Prime-Minister

Jump while every jump takes you a little higher

Email forward from my brother
These are surely pearls of wisdom that justify my third job

Interesting…..Don’t miss last Questions…

Some, rather most organizations reject his CV today because he has changed jobs frequently (10 in 14 years). My friend, the ‘job hopper’ (referred here as Mr. JH), does not mind it…. well he does not need to mind it at all. Having worked full-time with 10 employer companies in just 14 years gives Mr. JH the relaxing edge that most of the ‘company loyal’ employees are struggling for today. Today, Mr. JH too is laid off like some other 14-15 year experienced guys – the difference being the latter have just worked in 2-3 organizations in the same number of years. Here are the excerpts of an interview with Mr. JH

Q: Why have you changed 10 jobs in 14 years?
A: To get financially sound and stable before getting laid off the second time.

Q: So you knew you would be laid off in the year 2009?
A: Well I was laid off first in the year 2002 due to the first global economic slowdown. I had not got a full-time job before January 2003 when the economy started looking up; so I had struggled for almost a year without job and with compromises.

Q: Which number of job was that?
A: That was my third job.

Q: So from Jan 2003 to Jan 2009, in 6 years, you have changed 8 jobs to make the count as 10 jobs in 14 years?
A: I had no other option. In my first 8 years of professional life, I had worked only for 2 organizations thinking that jobs are deserved
after lot of hard work and one should stay with an employer company to justify the saying ‘employer loyalty’. But I was an idiot.

Q: Why do you say so?
A: My salary in the first 8 years went up only marginally. I could not save enough and also, I had thought that I had a ‘permanent’ job, so I need not worry about ‘what will I do if I lose my job’. I could never imagine losing a job because of economic slowdown and not because of my performance. That was January 2002.

Q: Can you brief on what happened between January 2003 and 2009.
A: Well, I had learnt my lessons of being ‘company loyal’ and not ‘money earning and saving loyal’. But then you can save enough only
when you earn enough. So I shifted my loyalty towards money making and saving – I changed 8 jobs in 6 years assuring all my interviewers about my stability.

Q: So you lied to your interviewers; you had already planned to change the job for which you were being interviewed on a particular day?
A: Yes, you can change jobs only when the market is up and companies are hiring. You tell me – can I get a job now because of the slowdown? No. So one should change jobs for higher salaries only when the market is up because that is the only time when companies hire and can afford the expected salaries.

Q: What have you gained by doing such things?
A: That’s the question I was waiting for. In Jan 2003, I had a fixed salary (without variables) of say Rs. X p.a. In January 2009, my
salary was 8X. So assuming my salary was Rs.3 lakh p.a. in Jan 2003, my last drawn salary in Jan 2009 was Rs.24 lakh p.a. (without
variable). I never bothered about variable as I had no intention to stay for 1 year and go through the appraisal process to wait for the
company to give me a hike.

Q: So you decided on your own hike?
A: Yes, in 2003, I could see the slowdown coming again in future like it had happened in 2001-02. Though I was not sure by when the next slowdown would come, I was pretty sure I wanted a ‘debt-free’ life before being laid off again. So I planned my hike targets on a yearly basis without waiting for the year to complete.

Q: So are you debt-free now?
A: Yes, I earned so much by virtue of job changes for money and spent so little that today I have a loan free 2 BR flat (1200 sq. feet) plus a loan free big car without bothering about any EMIs. I am laid off too but I do not complain at all. If I have laid off companies for
money, it is OK if a company lays me off because of lack of money.

Q: Who is complaining?
A: All those guys who are not getting a job to pay their EMIs off are complaining. They had made fun of me saying I am a job hopper and do not have any company loyalty. Now I ask them what they gained by their company loyalty; they too are laid off like me and pass comments to me – why will you bother about us, you are already debt-free. They were still in the bracket of 12-14 lakh p.a. when they were laid off.

Q: What is your advice to professionals?
A: Like Narayan Murthy had said – love your job and not your company because you never know when your company will stop loving you. In the same lines, love yourself and your family needs more than the company’s needs. Companies can keep coming and going; family will always remain the same. Make money for yourself first and simultaneously make money for the company, not the other way around.

Q: What is your biggest pain point with companies?
A: When a company does well, its CEO etc will address the entire company saying, ‘well done guys, it is YOUR company, keep up the hard work, I am with you.” But when the slowdown happens and the company does not do so well, the same CEO etc will say, “It is MY company and to save the company, I have to take tough decisions including asking people to go.” So think about your financial stability first; when you get laid off, your kids will complain to you and not your boss.

I see…

I see
a sea of people
waiting to be seen
Standing in queues
waiting for the summer
that has never been
In these cold parts
full of stones and harships
hoping to witness a craft unfold
lying awake
shivering with shame
narrating
experiences untold
hitherto unseen
of “will be” and “has never been”

Priceless

a short verse

I once had the habit of writing short verses..
a friend of mine reminded me of that…
told me what she foresaw my future to be…
of my muse, poetry, heaven, and all that jazz…

Mediocrity

Was talking to Mansi the other day, when she reminded of this thinking flaw a lot of my peer group and I had. When we graduated from B-school, a lot of us felt that there was a lot of mediocrity around us. We wanted to change the game, or the rules of the game, or make an impact, and or add value, or some intellectual trap like that. Almost 6 years hence, there are two groups – those who have stayed at the top of their game to still make excellence an aspiration. And those, who have joined the mediocrity race so that the environment doesn’t treat them like an outcast.

Fiction Fragment: The Call

I waited and I waited. People think its ridiculous, and it was a misery I had brought upon myself. But I knew better. I knew what it meant to be responsible. At least I thought I knew.

That night too, it was 3AM and I was driving back home. I suddenly got a call from a very familiar voice on the other side. I was in a hurry to get back home, but that voice and that call made me pull over. My stomach was churning with the sensatiopnal feeling of bile juice rising up and down like a bucket full of water does when you try to drag it along on a high friction surface. I had not eaten anything for the last 18 hours. And even now, I knew that getting home would not mean that I would get something to eat. First, she was not at home. Second, I had finished off all the leftover stuff already. There was bottle of Gatorade though. Is there a roadside eatery open at this hour? I am sure there is. I just did not know which one and where. I hated that call. I had told them that I will be home in 15 minutes. Can’t they wait till then?

I had been with them on the phone for the last 4 hours. Talking, fighting, reasoning, debating… just getting ready for what was going to happen.

By the time the call got over, in all of about half a minute, I was seething with rage. WHY? WHY??? My whole evening flashed in front of me. The refusal to talk, cancellation of plans, leaving for friends place because waiting was just not worth it, my 4 hour marathon, my hungry growling stomach, everything.

He had said, “Stephen is busy. We won’t be having the call today. Its been pushed out for tomorrow. So, we have 24 more hours to work on this deck!”

Short Story: Notebook

Being stuck with his car for the last three hours was not fun. And he wasn’t expecting the next three to be fun either. He had a pack of cigarettes, a book, a car with 3 flat tyres, a car stereo and one audio cd with 9 tracks, no radio network, hundreds of trees, lots of grass, a fabulous view of the ocean and a beautiful girl to give him company. The audio cd had 9 tracks. 9 fabulous tracks. Carefully handpicked for a potential romantic or unromantic drive of about an hour. The sequence was something that he had mentally planned. Starting from “ye shaam mastaani” to “woh shaam kuch ajeeb thi”.. And somehow, this particularly romantic setting was just not working out in his favor. Because he wanted to talk. Thats the only thing that was magical between them. Their conversation… Can you beat that? The only thing magical between them was their conversation. Stored in three spiral bound matrix notebooks. One month and three notebooks… He was cursing himself in the highest pitch. She was troubled, sorry, but oblivious to his curses.

If only she could hear. If only she could talk. If only he had brought a pen and a paper….

 

Statistically “Significant” Other

Isnt XKCD awesome??

 

(hat tip: Subhra)

Featured Institution: Rang De

I came across a site – Rang De (www.rangde.org) and I find it to be an exceptional concept. 

[Disclaimer: I have not done any background check on them yet. But the idea in itself is a very appealing and novel one to me]

For me, this is the kind of microfinance site I would love to encourage. I am quoting some of the things I read from the site. 

“Through Rang De we hope that many of us will be able to share and spread the colours of joy with other individuals. Rang De is an attempt to bring together the India that is economically progressing rapidly and the India that has been ignored and needs all our attention. Rang De is a platform for individuals to make a sustainable difference and join a mission to alleviate poverty…”

The Core beliefs that shaped Rang De are:

1. That most social issues if not all, are manifestations of poverty. Unless we address poverty holistically, our attempts will remain futile.
2. That microcredit is a sustainable means of alleviating poverty if it is affordable and can be accessed by all.
3. That charity and donations are hardly sustainable means to financial independence. In fact, it hinders an individual’s spirit to fight against poverty.

Rang De’s mission is to make microcredit accessible to all by lowering interest rates by doing things differently. To know how you can become a part of this mission please read further. 

How Rang De works?  

Step 1. Register and become a Social Investor. 

Step 2. Choose borrowers to make a social investment. You can invest as little as Rs.500. 

Step 3. Rang De ’s field partners receive and disburse loans to their borrowers. 

Step 4. Borrower repays loan according to a repayment schedule. 

Step 5. You receive a return of 3.5% on your social investment at the end of the tenure. 

I encourage all the visitors to this site/ readers to the blog to check the site out. The small amounts that you can donate are often less than the amount that people spend on dining outside. 

Poem: A Lie

i died
a few days back
in the courtyard
of a momentary palace
jesuit chalice
of him and her
death by the color
of black and white
he asked me
if I wrote a prose
stuck a pose
poked my nose
from up so close
he wanted to know
if I lied
when i said
I died
a few years back

Collected Musings

The reason for long silence after the momentary outburst – “Charity begins at home”. I am learning to be charitable.

********

Thought – “Perfection is the most over-rated ambition and improvement is the most under-rated!”

******

2 faint memories -

1.

phool hawa mein..  khusbhu pawan mein…
rishtey aur naatey aangan mein…
sab chalte hain, sang chalte hain…
phir koi saathi kho jaata hai…
gum kahin wo ho jaata hai …
jeevan phir bhi chalta hai…
Thoda hai, thode ki jaroorat hai…

(From the TV Series-  Thoda Hai Thode Ki Jaroorat Hai, directed by Ravi Rai) 

2.

Was reading the book “Letters To A Democratic Mother” by Saeed Akhtar Mirza… was reminded of this..
8:30AM… everyday.. three kids would run out to the balcony of a small flat in Mecon Colony, Ranchi, and wait for their daddy to bring the scooter out. He would, then, in the typical India way, tilt the scooter 30 degrees or so. While doing that, he would look up and smile. And the three of them would beam too. And then he would start his scooter and leave for the office. The three of them would keep waving goodbye till the scooter turned the corner.

In the evenings, they would know about his arrival from the sound of that scooter.  They understood that sound. And when they found it close by, a lot of change would happen. Maybe, the TV would be switched off, but they would all start looking towards the door expectantly. They knew the loud irritable doorbell would ring any moment. And that was the only time during the day, when they loved the sound.
If I could go back in time, I would capture that moment for posterity.  

I am the youngest of the three.

Last weekend, I was in Delhi..

This weekend, I was in Delhi. For my cousin’s wedding reception. 

Noticed quite a few things, much as I did not want to

1. The weather seemed less colder than the last year. I remember my brother’s wedding reception around the same date a few years back. And I am sure it was much colder that day. In fact, saturday afternoon was a bit sunny, and I was walking around with folded shirt sleeves. 

*****

The national anti-terrorism revolution has not seemed to affect Delhi that much. Life, sentiments, and rationalizations are very different when you talk to Dilliwalas. I guess there are some like me (with stakes in both cities) who tend to get emotional with Connaught Place blasts as much as they get emotional with the CST blasts. In the last week or so, all that I have talked about, when I would meet friends and acquaintances, was the recent terror attacks, and how it affects that Indian sensibilities now.  However, the weekend was a rude and real reminder that life has already moved on in almost all the other cities. People are still talking about the day, but they are not as frenzied as mumbaikars. 

 The question came back to haunt me – This thinking, upheaval, revolution and resolution… its all restricted to the upper middle class. I am hard pressed to find poor and lower middle class folks participating in this jingoism. 

*****

 Delhi had a favorable poll turnout.  So did the other states. I am quite sure that not too many people were seen asking for Rule 49-O. Otherwise, it might have been in news… With the ridiculousness typically associated with all  jingoism, I guess people are realizing how idiotic the whole idea of jumping for 4-9-Oh is! First, it an urban (and in this case, educated) legend. Second, undermining democracy is not the solution to the problems of democracy. 

As an afterthought, the results have been a bit of a surprise for others, not that much for me. I could see Delhi and Rajasthan being the results that they were. MP was also pretty much a given. Mizoram, somehow, i have never followed the politics there. I shoult take some more interest. My IIM-Indore interview in 2001 is a rude memoir that I carry with me!

Heroes At The Taj – Michael Pollack in Forbes.com

Got this forward from Rohit Mathur. And I must say, I love our politicians! 

*************

Heroes At The Taj - Michael Pollack in Forbes.com 12.01.08, 7:40 PM ET

My story begins innocuously, with a dinner reservation in a world-class hotel. It ends 12 hours later after the Indian army freed us.
My point is not to sensationalize events. It is to express my gratitude and pay tribute to the staff of the Taj Mahal Hotel in Mumbai, who sacrificed their lives so that we could survive. They, along with the Indian army, are the true heroes that emerged from this tragedy. 

My wife, Anjali, and I were married in the Taj’s Crystal Ballroom. Her parents were married there, too, and so were Shiv and Reshma, the couple with whom we had dinner plans. In fact, my wife and Reshma, both Bombay girls, grew up hanging out and partying the night away there and at the Oberoi Hotel, another terrorist target.

The four of us arrived at the Taj around 9:30 p.m. for dinner at the Golden Dragon, one of the better Chinese restaurants in Mumbai. We were a little early, and our table wasn’t ready. So we walked next door to the Harbor Bar and had barely begun to enjoy our beers when the host told us our table was ready. We decided to stay and finish our drinks.

Thirty seconds later, we heard what sounded like a heavy tray smashing to the ground. This was followed by 20 or 30 similar sounds and then absolute silence. We crouched behind a table just feet away from what we now knew were gunmen. Terrorists had stormed the lobby and were firing indiscriminately.

We tried to break the glass window in front of us with a chair, but it wouldn’t budge. The Harbour Bar’s hostess, who had remained at her post, motioned to us that it was safe to make a run for the stairwell. She mentioned, in passing, that there was a dead body right outside in the corridor. We believe this courageous woman was murdered after we ran away.

(We later learned that minutes after we climbed the stairs, terrorists came into the Harbour Bar, shot everyone who was there and executed those next door at the Golden Dragon. The staff there was equally brave, locking their patrons into a basement wine cellar to protect them. But the terrorists managed to break through and lob in grenades that killed everyone in the basement.)

We took refuge in the small office of the kitchen of another restaurant, Wasabi, on the second floor. Its chef and staff served the four of us food and drink and even apologized for the inconvenience we were suffering. Through text messaging, e-mail on BlackBerrys and a small TV in the office, we realized the full extent of the terrorist attack on Mumbai. We figured we were in a secure place for the moment. There was also no way out.

At around 11:30 p.m., the kitchen went silent. We took a massive wooden table and pushed it up against the door, turned off all the lights and hid. All of the kitchen workers remained outside; not one staff member had run. The terrorists repeatedly slammed against our door. We heard them ask the chef in Hindi if anyone was inside the office. He responded calmly: “No one is in there. It’s empty.” That is the second time the Taj staff saved our lives.

After about 20 minutes, other staff members escorted us down a corridor to an area called The Chambers, a members-only area of the hotel. There were about 250 people in six rooms. Inside, the staff was serving sandwiches and alcohol. People were nervous, but cautiously optimistic. We were told The Chambers was the safest place we could be because the army was now guarding its two entrances and the streets were still dangerous. There had been attacks at a major railway station and a hospital.

But then, a member of parliament phoned into a live newscast and let the world know that hundreds of people–including CEOs, foreigners and members of parliament–were “secure and safe in The Chambers together.” Adding to the escalating tension and chaos was the fact that, via text and cellphone, we knew that the dome of the Taj was on fire and that it could move downward.

At around 2 a.m., the staff attempted an evacuation. We all lined up to head down a dark fire escape exit. But after five minutes, grenade blasts and automatic weapon fire pierced the air. A mad stampede ensued to get out of the stairwell and take cover back inside The Chambers.

After that near-miss, my wife and I decided we should hide in different rooms. While we hoped to be together at the end, our primary obligation was to our children. We wanted to keep one parent alive. Because I am American and my wife is Indian, and news reports said the terrorists were targeting U.S. and U.K. nationals, I believed I would further endanger her life if we were together in a hostage situation. 
So when we ran back to The Chambers I hid in a toilet stall with a floor-to-ceiling door and my wife stayed with our friends, who fled to a large room across the hall.

For the next seven hours, I lay in the fetal position, keeping in touch with Anjali via BlackBerry. I was joined in the stall by Joe, a Nigerian national with a U.S. green card. I managed to get in touch with the FBI, and several agents gave me status updates throughout the night. 
I cannot even begin to explain the level of adrenaline running through my system at this point. It was this hyper-aware state where every sound, every smell, every piece of information was ultra-acute, analyzed and processed so that we could make the best decisions and maximize the odds of survival.

Was the fire above us life-threatening? What floor was it on? Were the commandos near us, or were they terrorists? Why is it so quiet? Did the commandos survive? If the terrorists come into the bathroom and to the door, when they fire in, how can I make my body as small as possible? If Joe gets killed before me in this situation, how can I throw his body on mine to barricade the door? If the Indian commandos liberate the rest in the other room, how will they know where I am? Do the terrorists have suicide vests? Will the roof stand? How can I make sure the FBI knows where Anjali and I are? When is it safe to stand up and attempt to urinate?

Meanwhile, Anjali and the others were across the corridor in a mass of people lying on the floor and clinging to each other. People barely moved for seven hours, and for the last three hours they felt it was too unsafe to even text. While I was tucked behind a couple walls of marble and granite in my toilet stall, she was feet from bullets flying back and forth. After our failed evacuation, most of the people in the fire escape stairwell and many staff members who attempted to protect the guests were shot and killed.

The 10 minutes around 2:30 a.m. were the most frightening. Rather than the back-and-forth of gunfire, we just heard single, punctuated shots. We later learned that the terrorists went along a different corridor of The Chambers, room by room, and systematically executed everyone: women, elderly, Muslims, Hindus, foreigners. A group huddled next to Anjali was devout Bori Muslims who would have been slaughtered just like everyone else, had the terrorists gone into their room. Everyone was in deep prayer and most, Anjali included, had accepted that their lives were likely over. It was terrorism in its purest form. No one was spared.

The next five hours were filled with the sounds of an intense grenade/gun battle between the Indian commandos and the terrorists. It was fought in darkness; each side was trying to outflank the other.

By the time dawn broke, the commandos had successfully secured our corridor. A young commando led out the people packed into Anjali’s room. When one woman asked whether it was safe to leave, the commando replied: “Don’t worry, you have nothing to fear. The first bullets have to go through me.”

The corridor was laced with broken glass and bullet casings. Every table was turned over or destroyed. The ceilings and walls were littered with hundreds of bullet holes. Blood stains were everywhere, though, fortunately, there were no dead bodies to be seen. 
A few minutes after Anjali had vacated, Joe and I peeked out of our stall. We saw multiple commandos and smiled widely. I had lost my right shoe while sprinting to the toilet so I grabbed a sheet from the floor, wrapped it around my foot and proceeded to walk over the debris to the hotel lobby.

Anjali and I embraced for the first time in seven hours in the Taj’s ground floor entrance. I didn’t know whether she was dead or injured because we hadn’t been able to text for the past three hours. I wanted to take a picture of us on my BlackBerry, but Anjali wanted us to get out of there before doing anything.

She was right–our ordeal wasn’t completely over. A large bus pulled up in front of the Taj to collect us and, just about as it was fully loaded, gunfire erupted again. The terrorists were still alive and firing automatic weapons at the bus. Anjali was the last to get on the bus, and she eventually escaped in our friend’s car. I ducked under some concrete barriers for cover and wound up the subject of photos that were later splashed across the media. Shortly thereafter, an ambulance came and drove a few of us to safety. An hour later, Anjali and I were again reunited at her parents’ home. Our Thanksgiving had just gained a lot more meaning.

Some may say our survival was due to random luck, others might credit divine intervention. But 72 hours removed from these events, I can assure you only one thing: Far fewer people would have survived if it weren’t for the extreme selflessness shown by the Taj staff, who organized us, catered to us and then, in the end, literally died for us. They complemented the extreme bravery and courage of the Indian commandos, who, in a pitch-black setting and unfamiliar, tightly packed terrain, valiantly held the terrorists at bay.

It is also amazing that, out of our entire group, not one person screamed or panicked. There was an eerie but quiet calm that pervaded–one more thing that got us all out alive. Even people in adjacent rooms, who were being executed, kept silent.

It is much easier to destroy than to build, yet somehow humanity has managed to build far more than it has ever destroyed. Likewise, in a period of crisis, it is much easier to find faults and failings rather than to celebrate the good deeds. It is now time to commemorate our heroes.

 

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