The Economics of the Generation Next and the idea of balancing the two worlds.

This Sunday a curious incident happened. It was a fine morning, just a little lonely, so I decided to pay a visit to my cousin bhaiya-bhabhi. They stay in Malad(Mumbai) and are proud parents of two wonderful boys - I love spending my time with them!

That morning when I entered their flat, looking forward to ganging up with the boys... I saw an unfamiliar face sitting in the drawing room with great familiarity. I was introduced to him, in the way I am always introduced to everyone, generally sounding something (detestful to my ears) like this- 'Yeh Film line mei kaam karta hai..'
Not that I blame my bhabhi-ji for those words. But I don't know, just the sound of it - 'film line'... almost makes me feel as if I do some illegal-gambling-sort of activity by the side of railway line.

Well, that's not the point, the blog is about that unfamiliar-someone sitting there. I was told that the gentleman had just moved in next doors, infact today itself, and had come to give a casual-introductory visit to his neighbours (i.e my bhaiya-bhabhi).

So as the conversation went by I came to know that he was what you call a specimen of the most refined breed of Generation Next! An Engineer from an IIT and a management graduate from an IIM. Wow! I can already see the fathers of eligible daughters going ga-ga over him and asking his hand for their beautiful 'fair and lovely' daughters. Now what term do you exactly give to such lethal combinations: IIT + IIM? Its like NSD + FTII = Iske baad filmon mei kaam nahi kiya toh kya jhak maaraa!!


Let me clarify this on the outset, I really don't have any personal grudges against people who have got the best of the worlds. I have known people who have worked much harder than many to be there. Sacrificed much more than many. SO they've worked their sweat/heart to it, and deserve this best of the worlds they aspired for. Its just that Harvard jaaoge ya Princeton jaaoge toh scientist ya millionaire toh banoge hee na. Isme kya badi baat hai?

But well, what provokes me is that extra-sweet smile on that unfamiliar-kind-of-faces - that bloody Chetan Bhagat kind of a wise-man, rimless spectacled look: 'we know everything, we drive the world, we are the ones who have sold our Ferraris. Remember Subodh in Dil Chahta Hai.

So as the morning cup of tea was passed to us, I casually asked about the deposit that he payed to the owner of the flat.
He said: '1.5 lacs'
I looked up from my tea cup.

My bhabhi-ji matter-of-factly said: 'Well, its everywhere nowadays. All of them ask above 1 lac!'
(For people who live outside Bombay, here's a fact: you pay a vulgar amount to the flat owner for an 11-month period, so that he can reap the benefits of good interest rates laid by Shri Chidambaram-ji in banks or wherever.)

Then came my next question to the IIT+IIM gentlemen: So, what about the rent for your 1BHK (one bedroom-hall-kitchen) and let me remind you this is Malad West, we are talking about. With the help of his finger he pushed his spectacles from the bridge of his nose to their exact place and replied: 21, 000/-
I almost spat the tea on his shirt! whaat!!

A moment of silence.

Soon I regained my consciousness and asked him: 'But you get 1BHK flats here for 15K to 16K, why so costly?

Now of course he works in a multinational with all the 'packages' that they promise: So taking the support on the 'package' shoulder, he fired:
'But all those flats were very dirty - those in the range of 15K to 16K. This one was very good. It had a wooden door and some wood work, so I thought this should be it for us!'
Well, I asked my Bhaiya a little while later, how the hell did you manage to buy a flat in Malad West?
He made me understand the process he went through. The estate prices then and some old family land they had owned etc. Infact he even recalled how his childhood was spent in Mumbai during the late 70s. When he used to get a rupee from his grandfather for the bus ticket to return from his school in evenings. And he would instead use that rupee to have pani-puri at the nearby stall and then to match the bus timings, he would run down to home. Of course the SV Road then wasn't as packed as now. Then he lived in Santacruz, now he has to shift further down to Malad.

Soon, our Lethal Weapon guy was back to his-business- he enquired about the availability of domestic help-the maid and what all work she does like washing the utensils, clothes, cleaning etc. My bhabhi-ji now plunged with all the information she must have collected over the several years of living in Malad. She started explaining: Right from where have the maids actually migrated from to what all kinds of holidays they ask for? While she was explaining him this 'Maid Mafia', she was constantly, repeatedly urging him to not pay more than 500/- bucks for any given work. i.e If she only washes utensils for the month - then 500/- and if she does cleaning and mopping in addition to washing utensils: then 1000/- I didn't pay much attention to that discussion and went back to the Sunday Times time-pass. But every time she would tell him something, then she would again add her punchline in the end: 'So...don't pay more than this, 500/- per work, because that is the price in every flat in every apartment block'

I was amused at this repetitive chanting from Bhabhi-ji and that Chetan Bhagat like smile, kept nodding. After, he left, I told her: 'Do you think he would care for a couple of hundred bucks, if he pays almost 5,000/- rupees extra per month for a flat?'
To which my Bhabhi-ji replied and I was taken aback, why didn't I think like this?
She said with an emphatic worry ringing inher voice: 'The problem is not him paying a couple of hundred extra to the maids, the problem is that when the same maids will come to our home and expect the same amount from us too, which we neither budget it nor we can afford, its then that him paying more will become a nuisance to us'

It struck me like lightening that how we, the Generation Next with our sudden economic freedom, yuppie lifestyles and boastful salary figures have almost sidelined some people who probably are as good as us in everything, but their only crime is that they are just a generation behind us. We unconsciously spend obnoxious amount of money for the very trivial things.
The idea of spending money with a conscience - does it exist?

The generation before us wasn't as privileged, they have struggled their way to reach to a particular level and now they find themselves still not 'upto the mark'. They enter a mall expecting that Nike shoes must be costing worth some: 1200/- bucks, but since their son really wants it, they would buy it for him. And to their surprise they will see the starting range from: 2100/- only! If they dare to mention that, the fact that these shoes are costly, the sales boy will behave as if they are asking for it for free,and instead he will attend to the guy sitting on the next chair with a Manchester United T-shirt.

Imagine this and I have seen it happening umpteen times: an old man after a day-long work is getting ready to jump inside an incoming local train and a couple of youngsters get in before him with ease and take his favourite window seat before he can get in. The window seat that he must be enjoying it since last so many years. Of course, I do not have any solutions to these incidents. There can't be any solutions, in a way, except that our generation might show a little more care and concern that could make the generation before feel better. As a writer, all I can do is think, feel bad, maybe blog and then again get back to earning my share of money.

But if anyone in my generation is reading this and feeling as guilty as I was on that Sunday morning: Whatever f**king figure salary you earn, don't indulge in the vulgar display of money. I know the IIT+IIM guy didn't mean to hurt anyone, but its just a subtle unconscious change in the society that the Generation Next is bringing about and more so in a city like Bombay that has several centuries and generations existing together.
Guess what? The IITs and IIMs might not teach you this gesture. Life will.

The idea of spending money with a conscience. And take that from someone who sees money being spent lavishly on bollywood sets with absolute zero idea of productivity.



© Copyrights 2009 www.bhaandgroup.blogspot.com. All Rights Reserved. Hardik Mehta

A City lost-and-found & the Stories from my Childhood

I love the idea of shooting randomly... just to keep capturing, without end points - the 'everyday', the 'not often' and the 'first time ever' all alike! And the city of Bombay provides a fertile ground for the 'constant capturer' in me - without (mostly) being stared at, or asked to stop! One could nearly merge with them while recording them/it all.

And one fine day, I put it all together on the edit table, the many beginnings... middles... ends... in different orders - till several stories are wrung out!

I am an unabashed fan of Bombay, (like countless others), and have had the privilege to spend my childhood years in the city .
From Nov 1982 to July 1993. 11 years. What an amazing time to experience this city.
That was an era - before the monsters of globalization, corporatization and economic liberation took over the great financial capital of the country. When people still went to Maratha Mandir, Novelty, Minerva to watch 'tax-free' movies, When the city and its beaches were still the source of evening entertainment and when traveling in the local trains would be a pleasure.
I was a 'very suburban' 'middle-class' 'Bombay kid'. (All three need to be in the inverted commas - cause the categories are strict :); and I was all three) We lived in the Bank Office quarters, in Malad. It was a childhood well spent.

July 2008, since the time I returned to Bombay, I had never even chanced a visit the place where I grew up. Or even to an area close to it!

The visit kept pending.

(Thats another aspect of the city. If you 'seek' work, it will give you so much, till the day, you put your foot down and cry out (to yourself) - "bas yaar, ab kuch apna bhi kar lete hain..").

So somewhere in March this year, Psycho, Yazad and I decided to visit 'this' place 'where I grew up' on a weekend - and with my camera.
Thats how the film 'happened', err... the beginning of the film, a trailer, some middle...

To make it a complete film, to find an end(s) we will go back again. For now, here's the trailer:


A City lost-and-found & the Stories from My Childhood
A Short Documentary by Hardik Mehta

the trailer for A City lost-and-found & the Stories from my Childhood from hardik mehta on Vimeo.

© Copyrights 2009 www.bhaandgroup.blogspot.com. All Rights Reserved. Hardik Mehta

The best thing to do on a day like this...

On 26/11, lets observe a whole day of silence by switching off the television.


Sorry its a copywriter's blog: best said in a line.

Ten Teachers without whom life wouldn't have been the same.

I almost never ever celebrate any festival. Its been like that, apart from the 2008 holi, there has never been much celebration in life when it comes to festivals since last seven odd years. Probably, i never thought i would make to movies and finally when i made it, life's been a celebration in itself, so whats the need of the festivals?.

But there's this day called Teachers day. Since the time I thought "Lets venture into movies", I have never ever failed to wish people who are responsible for adding value to my this journey. I am writing as if i am some accomplished artist or something. But its ok, everyone is a celebrity on facebook and on their Blogs. So I will let it be.

On this wonderful day, let me take the pleasure of thanking the following ten people who taught me many important lessons in life - lessons that change the way you see life, lessons that contribute in your upbringing and lessons that will always be with you, wherever you go. The people and the lessons are in no particular order.

1. Thank you Prof A.F Mathew for allowing me to come to Mica (during 2004-05 weekends) so that you can give me an hour of patient hearing. Thank you for telling me that movies are meant for much more than just entertainment, and of course thank you for introducing me to alien terms like Micheal Haneke, Walter Salles and several others. Sir, life has never been the same after knowing those alien terms.


2. Thank you Manoj Nair for not allowing me to sit in the campus interview for Almarai Foods, Riyadh. If selected, the money would have lured me to the desert, and i may not have found the magical world of movies. Later on, thank you for being there and encouraging me during the transition from advertising to cinema. I cannot forget those chai sessions in Ahmadabad, even when you were loaded with your IIM subjects.


3. Thank you Rani Dais ma'am for telling the class in Basil school that "even if hardik doesnt get an engineering seat after boards, he should not fret. He can do better in many other careers"
For the reader, sorry for that self-appraisal note, but when a student is feeling miserable with his sad scores in mid term class XII exams, that sentence is a huge respite in a confusing career with competitive friends around.

4. Thank you Mr. Harsh Purohit for taking the risk of adding a fresh dairy technologist to the copywriting crew of one of the most dynamic advertising agencies. Thank you for all those little nuances about writing, presentations and clients. I still follow them to the core.


5. Thank you Prof. Shohini Ghosh for those wonderful lectures on images, their politics, films and documentaries. I wish those lectures would have been more in number. It changed the way we thought about media and films. I had almost 100% attendance in second year, coz i thought you would come any day for a surprise lecture and i better not miss it. Thank you also for rejecting me in 2005's interview at Jamia, I was a different person when i entered in 2006. :) :)

6. Thank you Gangaraju Swamy for giving me shelter in your room no. 114 during dangerous ragging sessions in first year. Thank you for those delicious conversations during dinners at the tasteless Hostel Mess. Thank you again for supporting me during early Mumbai days. (Actually to Gangaraju I cant thank enough!!!)

7. Thank you Shailesh for all those wonderful childhood memories, classroom pranks and introducing me to good hollywood movies.

8. Thank you Yazad in renewing my interest in photography and how digital photography can change your vision. I can now start to think the possibilities of sfx in an image. But am more thankful for showing me the way in how to live properly, how to keep the kitchen clean, how to make tea and how to contribute when you share the flat.

9. Thank you Mr. Dev Benegal for almost whatever all I know about practical filmmaking. From introducing the concept of script supervision to introducing me to the wonderful world of Apple technologies, from encouraging an assistant's ramble about world cinema to making coffees during edit sessions. The last one year has been priceless!!


10. Thank you Bombay/Mumbai. There isn't a better teacher for a young ambitious man in this world. The lesser i say the better it is. As the cliche would go: "The city surely has possibilities to make your dreams come true. Aise he nahi chale aate hum jaisen yahaan..."


Happy Teachers Day to all the wonderful teachers out there in the world. You guys are doing a great job.

With love and respects.
Hardik Mehta




© Copyrights 2009 www.bhaandgroup.blogspot.com. All Rights Reserved. Hardik Mehta

Growing up with the Game and the 1992 World Cup

Back in 1992, when i was in class 5 - cricket was still considered a menace for kids. but worse, the school authorities didnt allow to play cricket in school. I mean not allowing cricket to kids who used to get up at 4 in the mornings to watch New Zealand beat Australia in the opening match of 1992 World Cup. Infact, let it be any damn match – since the World Cup was being played in Australia, setting the alarm for 4 in morning was a norm. To top it all - there were the new colourful uniforms, the wonderful white ball, those lazy flamingoes on the Australian grounds and the lush green outfields. My parents discouraged me from getting up at four in the morning. But when you are a kid, nothing comes between you and your interests.

Imagine a father's plight who had to get up at 4 to wake his kid to watch Zimbabwe play Pakistan and then a couple of hours later wake up again to start for the day that included traveling in those sweaty local trains from one corner of the city to the other extreme.


Back to the school - Radios were not allowed in the premises. And most of my classmates would just get up, get ready and come to school by 8 am without knowing what match or what score it is. And by the time they reached home, the match was over and Star Sports was showing a random Rugby match. As a result not many of them could follow the World Cup matches. So, when someone in the morning in our class would want to know the score, they would turn to me and all of my fathers and my efforts to get up at 4 would come to help –


Classmate: “South-Africa Vs. West-Indies ka kya hua?”


Me: “Meryck Pringle took 4/19. All four batsmen including the great Ritchie Richardson, Brian Lara were caught in slips.


Aah, the joy of it! Heads would turn. Faces that looked at me asking for more info on the match.


I know 1992 world cup like no one else does. I can bet. From Jadeja’s historic catch of Allan Border to the flying Johnty Rhodes to run out Inzamam. From Mark Greatbatch’s power stroke play to Ian Botham’s famous gesture.

Javed Miadad scored 40 of 110 balls against India at SCG. John Traicos of Zimbabwe was 44, the oldest cricketer to play for any country then. Ravi Shashtri was the slowest batsmen that we saw then. (25 off 75 balls). Facts, figures, trivia, scores, statistics – all were a part of a great brainwave – called Star Sports – yes the television had come home.


The one memory or that one match of 1992 World Cup that i can never forget is Sanjay Manjrekar scoring that brisk 47 off 42 deliveries against Australia. His knock took India till the doors of victory untill a cool Steve Waugh, a clueless Tom Moody and the substitute wicket keeper David Boon snatched it away on that last ball.

Last ball, 4 runs required and Javagal Srinath is on the crease. As usual, when Tom moody bowled, he took a wild swing. The ball went high, high and was almost on the edge of boundary when a running Steve "red-handkerchief" Waugh appeared - but hey !! he dropped the catch ( Gibbs, you can laugh on him. - even he did this at some point of time)

But hey, we need 4 runs - Indian batsmen or should i say bowlers were running hard. I remember Bill Lawry, the commentator shouting to Javagal Srinath and Raju - RUN, RUN, RUN. My uncle and my father who were watching the match, almost shouted when David Boon took off those bails, leaving India high and dry. I was more tensed than them, but on seeing their reactions and their utter disappointment - I felt we should have won that day. I thought, if only Ravi Shastri, the slowest batsmen in the world could have not wasted 75 balls to score his 25.

These days, when every match ends on a last ball I can hardly remember scores, players and events. It doesnt feel special to witness or be a part of the hysteria. I cant recollect the last entire match that I saw. Gone are the days when i took that scolding from my parents to get up for a random cricket match. But I still love the game.

Its been 3 years now, since i took the Bat in my hand. But legend has it that on the grounds of Agricultural Campus, Anand, there was a left-handed batsmen who almost reached to his century - the first ever to happen on that ground. But alas, short by three runs - 97* not out!

Much like that India-Australia match. But as wise men say there are somethings that are better left unconquered.

Luck By Chance! - By Far the best of 2008-09

Jo palkon ke talle hai apne,
Sapney leke chale woh keh do.
Woh chale sambhal ke…

Na karna koi geele
Kahin jo thokar aisi lage,
Ke sapne toote aanson chalke.

Every time I hear these lines, it chokes me. The next few moments are dizzy. Am so not sure about myself then. At times, I stand in the middle of a railway platform stoned, and feel the world around me going in slow motion. What will this life lead to? What if we fail in our ultimate destination? Several such questions crop up. And then comes the best two lines.

Chooney hai taarein isse,
Chahiye saarein isse.

I am sure everyone associated with films who has “struggled” in their careers or are still in the phase of “struggling” – must have emphasized with Sona Mishra, the character of Konkona Sen. And at least for me, when the film ends – its she who is the lead protagonist of the film. And look how easily the writer-director does that in the final scene. The main protagonist for me just flips from Vikram to Sona – When I go out of the theatre, board a bus, reach home, get up next day – who I think about is Sona Mishra. What would have happened to her next? Will she make it big? I give a damn to Vikram! Although I loved him in his grey shades and his witty thinking. But most of us who are/or has struggled have struggled the “Sona Mishra” way. Ya, but for a film its better to show Vikram Jaisingh’s story coz there’s masala in it, there is ambition combined with shrewdness, but lest we forget the resilience of Sona Mishra. Zoya Akhtar showed us that so beautifully with her final scene and the monologue.

As the end titles began, tears came up in my eyes. They were there till I saw the final logos of Kodak, Pixion, Dolby etc. They were still there when I left the hall; they were still there till I boarded the bus.

Acting against the wish of parents. Running away from home. Eating outside at stalls. Piling on (living with) friends. Walking alone on busy streets. Getting paid, but just about. Managing life in that. Feeling alone in the crowd. Yet get up on the next morning with zeal and have a self-belief that we aren’t like the ordinary. We are here to learn, not earn. Isn’t this the kind of life for beginners/strugglers in this city?

Once in Osian’s film festival in Delhi I saw an old woman, on being so impressed by a wonderful Algerian film – The Yellow House, went ahead and hugged the director. The director, Amor Hakkar had just heard the controversy between Richard Gere and Shilpa Shetty, so he took permission of the woman before he kissed her hand in return. It was an amazing thing to watch. I felt same after Luck By Chance ended. But this wasn’t a film festival. So somehow got my little contacts and asked a colleague who worked on Luck By Chance to pass my SMS to Zoya. She did and Zoya replied to my colleague’s SMS and asked her to pass it to me. “Wow, wow I can’t tell you the feedback I am getting man, its insane. Thanks for sending this to me”. Your work definitely touched me. Thanks again.

Felt like sending a ticket of Luck By Chance to my parents, relatives, cousins, schoolmates, teachers, professors, family members, neighbors, friends, brothers, sisters, siblings, rivals, enemies - of whom no one is remotely associated with the world of films. Would have quoted them what Sona Mishra’s monologue says in the end. Wont quote here, as it may spoil the fun for people who are yet to see the film.

But even if you are not passionate for cinema - do go and watch the film, the emotion will surely transcend to the professions you all belong to.


P.S: Would have loved to see Vikram JaiSingh eat at Dhabas of Andheri west, catching local trains, sitting in BEST, looking at empty wallets, renting a car to enter a Studio, and then eventually getting a support in the form of Sona Mishra. But then his character belonged to an affluent Delhi family! Anyways, that for later.