Goa leads the way, bans all tobacco products

Even as Maharashtra struggles to enforce its ban on the sale of gutkha, the government of Goa has ordered a complete ban on the sale of tobacco products. This heavy move is sure to be a lot more effective that Maharashtra’s weak decision that does nothing to stop to sale of cigarettes, which are obviously as or even more harmful than gutkha. The use or sale of tobacco in any form is now illegal in Goa. May the meek government of Maharashtra and all the other states learn from this brave move from a tiny state famous as one of the most popular tourist destinations in the world.

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Beer Snobbery 3

Every few years, there is a disturbing change of beer trends in magical Goa. There was the local pilsner King’s, which ruled the scene. Then, Kingfisher took over and reigned until recently and now Tuborg has dethroned India’s most popular beer. They’re a lot cheaper at the beach shacks than they are at the liquor stores (“wine shops”) in Mumbai, but the next time we’re in Goa… I’ll be sippin’ water, thank you.

Speaking of ‘popular’, I think there’s a connection between Kingfisher and other popular stuff. Like god, for example. Or take any popular notion that doesn’t make any sense whatsoever. While it’s totally understandable that not everyone can admit they were wrong or fooled after a lifetime of believing in something, it’s baffling how people will belligerently continue to thrust forth their contrasting opinion in a show of loyalty to that which is obviously false.

It’s like trying to start a conversation with me by stating that a certain band whose only claim to fame is playing covers of Metallica/Megadeth/Slayer is the best thing to happen to metal. It never works.

Fuck all that – I laughed my head off talking to this delivery man who happens to be a London Pilsner loyalist. He told me how he’d bought the costlier Kingfisher thinking it’d be his birthday treat and that it ruined his celebration because, as he told me in Hindi, that beer fucking stinks.

It feels so good to be on a break from alcohol, especially after a visit to a microbrewery which poured into my life a truly great beer that… yeah, that’s right – no more shitty beer posts from me for a very long time. So if you’re too lazy to visit a microbrewery or too cheap to buy quality brew, the least you can do as someone who cares about what they put in their body is drink the only good Indian macrobrew around. And be sure to pester the wine shop owner for the the classic green bottle.

I wonder if anyone has broken it to Vijay Mallya yet…

 

Beer Review: King’s Black Label Pilsner

The first thing you’re offered when you enter Goa, King’s is fast disappearing because of people opting for more familiar beers that are sold at the same price. Of course, it’s absolutely senseless to drink Kingfisher or Tuborg at a shack on any beach of Goa, but who’s going to tell the silly public that? King’s Black Label Pilsner smells like stale bread and has a malty zing that evaporates off the tongue almost immediately to make way for faint hops and a semi-dry end. Light enough to down by the dozen, King’s beer is so special because it is brewed and sold only in Goa. Available in a 375 ml bottle and at 4.85% alcohol strength, King’s Black Label Pilsner is now an endangered species – hunt it down the next time you’re in Goa and knock back as many pints as you can before it goes extinct.

RATING: 2/5

Beer Review: London Pilsner – India’s Only Good Beer

Beer Snobbery 2  Beer Snobbery 1

World, You’ve Got Your Revenge

An April Fool joke I played on my fellow metalheads last year turned on me this morning. It’s been a fortnight since I last smoked hash, and the clouds in my head cleared and presented my mind with a horrific nightmare.

I was chilling at Anjuna Beach, and Metallica was playing live. No, that’s not the nightmare! Listen on…

Imagine that – ‘Tallica playing live on Anjuna Beach in Goa, no less.

So, the legendary Metallica was on a tiny stage facing Curlie’s with their backs towards the sea. The Anjuna sea is gorgeous, but it was late in the evening and so, very dark.

The crowd was huddled together on the steps of Curlie’s, that infamous shack, but wasn’t like a Metallica audience in any way. No screaming, no headbanging, no cussing – just cheering and clapping between songs.

Then it hit me that Metallica had become so predictable – everyone had seen videos of their shows and everyone knew exactly what was going to happen when. I even knew at which point James Hetfield was going to exclaim, “J-yeah!”

Anyway, I wasn’t excited at all and started pacing up and down like I do all the time. Then I felt like taking a shit and found myself in a posh loo… naked. Just when I was about to let go of the unwanted, I heard the opening notes to Enter Sandman. Then it really hit me – the greatest band in the world was performing at Anjuna Beach in Goa to a select crowd, and there I was, taking a dump while they launched into the opening cut of the greatest heavy metal album ever.

Bas, that’s it – then I woke up feeling very ashamed of myself.

Even my nightmares are so classy that I feel like the protagonist of Satyajit Ray’s Nayak.

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When

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Music Review: To The Sea

How nice for a Sunday morning, my first listen of Jack Johnson‘s music happens to be his fifth album To The Sea. Laid-back jamming that makes indoor listening feel like a outing. A beach in Goa is where it makes me want to be at, looking at waves and thinking of nothing. Jack Johnson doesn’t demand your attention, leaving you free to fantasize about breakfast in Anjuna, while the surroundings absorb his music. From what I’d heard, this was to be an acoustic affair, but here’s some electric guitar, a harmonica, and some other instruments whose names I don’t know, and let me not embarrass myself further. To The Sea has a feel-good vibe that is instantly likeable, and Jack Johnson makes it sound so effortless that you want to stretch back, unbothered by the flies hovering over the imaginary orange juice.

Movie Review: The Great Indian Butterfly

Film: “The Great Indian Butterfly”

Writer/Director: “Sarthak DasGupta”

Actors: “Sandhya Mridul”, “Aamir Bashir”, “Koel Purie”

The first thing that needs to be said about The Great Indian Butterfly is that is a really different movie… very unlike anything you’ve seen before. Sarthak DasGupta presents a week in the life of a married couple on vacation, both corporate slaves drained by hectic work schedules and tight deadlines, aching to breathe easy for seven days.

Sarthak DasGupta has a clear story and no unbelievable circumstances or odd characters jumping in the way. A husband and wife used to quarreling all the time miss their flight to Goa and choose to go by road instead. Bickering throughout the journey, the tension in their relationship builds up till they reach Goa, and we find out their sex life is dead.

Aamir Bashir plays the husband who has been waiting for the holiday not just to relax, but to also look for and find a special kind of butterfly in a certain valley. This butterfly is supposed to bring peace, love, happiness and luck. Aamir Bashir looks unhappy for most part, but there is a reason for it and it becomes obvious towards the end.

Sandhya Mridul plays the wife who’s being harrowed by phone calls from work that keep her from enjoying the vacation. She finds out she’s pregnant because of a lovemaking session she had with her husband quite awhile back, and isn’t sure if she wants the baby as she’d rather get to where she wants in her career.

Koel Purie plays Aamir Bashir’s ex-girlfriend who is still in touch with him, much to his wife’s displeasure. Koel Purie looks good but sounds funny and that’s okay. Not okay with Sandhya Mridul at all, especially when she overhears a phone conversation between Aamir and Koel.

The Great Indian Butterfly does not boast of great cinematography despite having been shot in Goa, and even the screenplay is to the point. Neither does it attempt to titillate in any way – it could easily have, with the ‘A’ certificate. Instead, The Great Indian Butterfly is an unhurried relationship drama, an art house film worth two hours of your time.

Sarthak DasGupta gives you quality offbeat cinema without cheese and corn. Let’s give Sarthak DasGupta the respect due.

RATING: 3/5

Republic Day 2010

Many years ago, I was taught the words to and the meaning of Vande Mataram by my nana. My maternal grandparents were freedom fighters, and it was at their home that I’d watch the National Song on Doordarshan at 7 am every Sunday morning.

It’s a beautiful tune, far greater than the National Anthem, at least in terms of musical quality. I’ll launch the attack on the National Anthem another time, this day is too big for small complaints.

I understand we can’t display the Indian flag except on Republic Day and Independence Day, and it’s a real shame for a country that forces its people to stand up to show respect to the National Anthem before movie screenings in cinema halls. Excuse me again, I’ll save the rest for an abusive post to publish another day.

While Americans can wear patriotic swimwear, anyone who puts forth the idea of the Indian flag on a bikini will immediately be lynched. Not that Indian women have a place to prance around in a bikini at, but I can’t help wondering how it’d look. One part of the top saffron and the other one green. White down there with the navy blue Ashoka Chakra, and the whole damn thing has to be made from khadi, of course. Pretty, pretty…wear it in Goa. It might even make things easier for men who aren’t sure what goes where.

Aim for the chakra, boys.