Spotify sent this song my way because of a random song my child chose enroute school one morning. I quite like the vibe. Check out more of their songs here.
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Many people, me included, would tell you that if a movie manages to entertain in the manner it is intended; it’s served a purpose. Since it’s met expectations, does it matter there are the parameters that’ve possibly not met the mark? Maybe not. Reviews exist to let us know if the movie is worth the price of admission, the 2+ hours we’d spend sitting in a darkened hall on a Friday night when we could’ve been doing something else, anything else.
But for some movies, the review doesn’t make much sense at all if they are part of a series that’s known to be solely focused on the trope of good triumphing over evil and said evil getting face planted in the dirt.
If that’s the case, then you’d better just sit back, adjust your seat and grab the popcorn because the narrative is OTT, flashy, loud and a not-so-bad way to spend 2+hours on a Friday night.
Over the years Rohit Shetty’s cop universe has amped up the machismo, the testosterone and the number of cars which get destroyed while Singham, Simmba and Suryavanshi go around and neutralize the bad guys; each in their own way but always with all guns blazing (the muscular and the weapons) and rarely coming out with a scratch on themselves.
And Singham Returns is no different. With constant allusions to the Ramayana, this movie sees the main characters (good and bad) spend a lot of their time doing power walks to get their groove on and that becomes old really quickly.
The pace is picked up a bit once Ranveer Singh enters the narrative but for the rest of the lot, it’s a hit and miss because they might as well have been walk-on parts for all the good it did them.
Deepika Padukone is utterly wasted as a prop (Lady Singham is a big yawn).
Tiger Shroff does what he does best- splits and kicks midair to the extent where he can’t dismount a car without it turning into a ballet move.
Akshay Kumar comes in looking pretty old and with fairly lame comic timing, dialogues and not much of the macho man stance we’ve come to expect of him in such movies over the years.
Jackie Shroff gets to don a pathan suit+eyeliner and is completely unconvincing as the erstwhile baddie who’s set upon revenge.
Arjun Kapoor looks like he’s hitting the gym and steroids big time or is wearing a body suit to show that he’s Mr. Muscles. His busy facial and head hair help him in being the modern day Ravana to Ajay Devgn’s Ram. His dialogues are stilted, he’s posturing throughout and brings zero menace to the screen.
Leaving Kareena Kapoor and Ajay Devgn.
She of the beaming face or wearing a “brave” expression and good sarees and the other is Mr.Game Face personified even when he’s gritting his teeth or punching bad guys till they fly into the air and collide with another unfortunate baddies.
So why go watch this movie if it so little to recommend itself? Well, Rohit Shetty movies are meant to evoke chuckles, oohs and hard-to-believe moments and this one fits the bill in toto.
If you have an extra large screen at home then hang on for a bit because it’ll be streaming on Amazon Prime soon enough. Else, go and chillax in a lounger while cars explode, patriotism oozes and the audience gets a crash course on the Ramayan. Jai ho!
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The New York Times book critic said this about the life of author Jean Rhys (of Wide Sargasso Sea fame)-
She was like a shore hit regularly by hurricanes…
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I woke up earlier than expected today because somehow my daily wake-up alarm got set for Sunday as well…oh well, no matter. I did my Wordle (I lost). I pottered around the house (needs dusting). I brushed my teeth (need to order more toothpaste). I then made my way to the kitchen after collecting the farm fresh milk that needs to be boiled.
This is so terribly mundane, but terribly soothing as well. Because the other members of my family haven’t woken up yet. I hummed to myself while I sorted out the milk boiling, made myself some coffee (thank you Mr.Ethiopian goat herder for discovering this wondrous fruit!), started the dishwasher (after ordering some detergent) and have the kitchen halfway to where it needs to be in terms of cleanliness.
Now I’ll publish this post. I’ll savor my coffee. I’ll try and hit a higher target on my French lessons. Hopefully, I’ll watch a rerun episode of NCIS while I sort out the laundry. All while TO and Red finish their beauty sleep.
Alone time is a blessing; it’s a boon. More than letting you sort through your thoughts, it helps you become aware of your thoughts. It lets you take a stroll through your head while you figure out your day. I already have a to-do list ready to go. I am likely to finish it today as well, Galactic Amoeba be willing. And all because I had time to be with me and my thoughts.
Amen.
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My kid’s teenage years are kicking my heiney!*
I was smarter as a teen than I am as a middle-aged mother of one. Primarily because I kept the eye rolling to a minimum and the simian grunts to a fairly non-existent level.
I had to since my mother was handy with her spatulas and my father could freeze water at 15 paces with his glacial looks of annoyance. He rarely had to open his mouth to discipline which is good because his bark was as bad as his bite. As an only child, with no other sibling to deflect blame on, you learn pretty quickly to either not do stuff that’ll get you in trouble or not get caught doing it.
Fastforward a few decades and I have a teenager of my own who hit puberty during the Covid years. While that was unfortunate in itself, the fact that his onset and travails of puberty is on a collision course with my perimenopause. There are head-on collisions from time to time but we get back up and live to fight another day.
The fundamental issues with teens are these (purely IMHO): they know more than they did when they were in primary school but don’t entirely have a hold on the adulting aspect. But do they want to be told that? Nope!
They are ruled by their emotions and their apparent superhuman metabolism because they are always hungry and never full. Let me correct that: they are full when it comes to fruits, vegetables, nuts and everything else that’s good for their holistic growth but are seemingly bottomless pits when it comes to everything else that gets chucked into their gullets.
Now the part of the brain that deals with emotions and behavior is called the limbic system and it is responsible for many more things than just emotions. It deals with survival behaviors including feeding, fight or flight et al. So if you really want to cut your child some slack, you could say their brains are compelling them to be a human food disposal and it’s that same brain which is says ‘bring it on’ in the face of authority and indulges in the overuse of words like ‘whatever’ and ‘FINE!!’
They can also give the Big Bad Wolf of the fairy tales a major complex because of all the huffing and puffing they do when asked to do chores or not be giant pain in the patootie.**
Why else would an erstwhile adorable cherub of a child, who would do things to please his parents and not act like hygiene was optional, smell so often of musty clothes left in the hamper, bathe and brush like he’s going to be taxed on every drop of water he spends and look grungier after his “bath” than he did before? It boggles the mind.
But in the immortal words of Rumi, King Solomon and Abraham Lincoln, “this too shall pass” and hopefully not take us parents from being borderline insane to crossing the border completely!
*&** If you’re wondering why euphemisms for the rear end are being used instead of the actual word well, sometimes the mind of a teenager’s parent is rather full of expletives so it’s a nice destressing exercise to find less vitrolic words because let’s face it, a moment on the lips and a lifetime of hearing it from your kid because you saying it opened the flood gates!
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My home aka the place where t.v remotes go to die.
They seem to plummet from a high place with unfailing regularity and sadly there’s no safety net in sight…sigh.
Is there also a subsription model for buying t.v remotes? I guess am averaging a few one every quarter! -
Mona Lisa a la Wassily Kandinsky 
Mona Lisa a la Jamini Roy 
Mona Lisa a la Salvador Dali 
Mona Lisa a la Jackson Pollock 
Mona Lisa a la Edvard Munch 
Mona Lisa a la Andy Warhol 
Mona Lisa a la Vincent Van Gogh -
Last night I’d asked TO to do one of his usual chores and he did; while holding firmly onto the tv remote. And I, being a person to *never* let a snarky quip pass me by, told him that once he grew up and if he had kids, would have to eventually put the remote down sometime to catch hold of said kid. To that pat came the reply, “Maybe…we’ll see then.”
I made this graphic for him in reply and will be hiding the remote shortly.
