The John Inverdale Guidebook To Appropriate Insulting Technique

BBC presenter John Inverdale is facing the heat over his sexist remarks made on air against the recently crowned Wimbledon champion, Marion Bartoli. Inverdale reckons Bartoli is not much of a looker. This has invited widespread public ire - by which I mean, 674 complaints to BBC demanding Inverdale's ouster over this WHAAATTT?

674 complaints, are you kidding me? Is this all you got after making news headlines with that comment? One of Bartoli or Inverdale, and I am confused at this point who, doesn't invoke impressive mass outrage. Consider Govinda, for the sake of argument. The poor chap has received at least Govinda times as many slanderous remarks on his appearance all his life (I am talking only about the ones I have been privy to) when they barely even find room in the gossip columns of newspapers.

Of course, sensible arguments will point out that making jokes on Govinda's appearance can never be a big deal, because that doesn't amount to being sexist. Except under certain rare circumstances, of course.

In that completely logical view, Inverdale's horrendous mistake of making disparaging remarks about a woman's looks needs to be taken very seriously, and I am more than willing to sign any petition floating around that demands his immediate transfer to India TV. Or even better, place him in intensive training under the Sly Commentary at Indian Weddings program.
I say Inverdale be granted a hall pass to a wedding or two. Quietly hear the whispers in the crowd. They will tell him many a story, laced with the choicest adjectives, about the hapless couple posing on the podium before the shutterbugs. Marriage functions will teach him that there are such things as an appropriate method, tone and timing of insulting someone. You can't just go up on stage, pose with the bridegroom and ask him to lower his wedding veil so the crew can click a nice photograph. You smile at the couple appropriately, get off the stage, go to a corner of the bhelpuri counter and then offer your opinion, peppered with laughter and approval from your own little audience. The satisfaction will be far greater than going ballistic in public and having your specially crafted comments boomerang right back at you.
Snide remarks are all pervasive. About a half of them are sexist. The other half are directed towards the male species, so they evaporate into oblivion. Of the ones that are sexist, you only need to be careful of the medium you choose to air them. All said and done, if your options confuse you, you have the right to remain silent.

The Lootera Leverage

Early this week, my Twitter timeline had begun showing trickles of applause for Lootera, a film that hadn't released to audiences yet. Mostly from the film fraternity, a few close aides of the film fraternity, and a handful of relatives of the close aides, had wonderful things to say about the film. By the middle of the week, I had heard from various corners that Lootera was a poignant love story with a heart, painted in glorious hues. On Friday morning, colleagues asked me if I was going to watch Lootera - and that I should - because it was a poignant love story with a heart, painted in glorious hues. And so I did, that night.
When we walked out of the hall, my wife asked me for my response like she always does (except the time I made her miss dinner so we could go watch 'Joker' - that evening she asked for various explanations, but not a response). I answered, scavenging on residual popcorn crumbs on my shirt, that Lootera was a poignant love story with a heart, painted in glorious hues.

Later that night, I wavered on my opinion. No, I still did think the film was wonderful.Yes, Lootera surprises you with its texture, its vintage appeal, very controlled performances, a smoothly adapted O Henry twist, and some breathtaking cinematography which becomes the primary reason you shouldn't compress this lovely canvas on a Youtube video (especially if you use Reliance Netconnect). It also leaves cynics dissatisfied. "Oh, but I had planned to say - Sonakshi's nose-ring is more expressive than her - damn, she was good".
I only think my view of the film, and arguably that of many others, was built prematurely, and was a little exaggerated too. Maybe that is precisely where I felt deprived. I went in expecting a magnificent film, all I got was a wonderful film instead. I thought the film was slower than it should have been. The narration was somewhat linear. All said and done, I liked it. But the uproar in the media and on the social network had stripped me of that tingling, alluring uncertainty that I want to feel when I buy a movie ticket. (You could make a joke here about how expensive this alluring uncertainty is, but then I could ward you off by assuring you the public hasn't signed off on this joke yet.)
On publicity, films face their share of potential perils too. A beautifully made, labour-intensive film can be trashed in a matter of hours, lying precariously the way we have seen often, in the hands of reviewers and nobodies who take themselves too seriously. Naysayers are infectious, as are the over optimistic. Somewhere in this common trapeze act, many a film lies confused as to which side it should take - that of indulgence in its creativity, or the pursuit of its commercial viability. Sadly, the whims of its audiences don't allow it to form a clear judgement.
The next time a film releases, I'd like to watch it before experts tweet about it. For that to happen, I might need to be invited to pre-launch premiers. For that to happen, I might need to become an expert on films myself. For that to happen, I might need to start stoking public opinion through my own reviews. Oh damn, this web has me in a snare. For now, I might just go watch Lootera for the second time. Because everyone else is doing so, and that just seems right.

No, YOU Are Cheap!

Imran Khan was recently in the limelight for the second time this year, when he called Twitter 'lowly and cheap' (the first time was when he featured in a film as a Haryanvi bumpkin with a Persian accent). What has annoyed me the most is that more than forty-eight hours after his ghastly, irresponsible act of expressing an honest view, Twitter hasn't retorted with anything ludicrous that reads something like #YouAreCheapBecause.

This calls for a serious reflection on our core competence of negating opinions and engaging in senseless, fulfilling slander. The last time such an opportunity was lost was when we forgot to mock Chetan Bhagat's latest haircut at the local salon in Bandra. "Can a man who doesn't look like Che Guevara or write like Miltonbhai stoke minds by making opinions on public policy?" was a potential subject that could have kept us comfortably distracted from unnecessary peeves such as the Uttarakhand relief fund, unheard distress calls made by friends, or even our own symptoms of underachievement. With someone as minimally talented and obnoxiously rich and famous as Imran Khan, we should have had a field day venting out our frustration on the hapless fellow.
I seriously believe Imran Khan, having shown his prowess at making frivolous and irreverent remarks, finds a comfortable place back on this wonderful social platform. We are in dire need of people who can prove counterproductive to the mental health of our society, because we are running out of other personal and national issues to deal with. While our top political leaders sensitively handle this recent Uttarakhand calamity by peacefully sharing media bytes, the least we can do is bicker and take sides. Blind ourselves to littler potential contributions we can make and take the plunge.
Be vociferous. Shout. Retweet people who subscribe to your outcry. Label the others as furniture. If someone opposes you, take him to task. Nobody will be right if nobody will be left.
Imran Khan, welcome to the warzone.
PS: Are you on Orkut? Because like everyone would like to categorize, that would be lowly and cheap.

Please Look Up My Calendar

The only comic relief I rely on every Monday morning is the guilt that rings loud in the voices of certain people. "We have lost two crucial days, so we really need to step up the gas." "That's the weekend you are talking about." "Yes, but did you know we could have saved 96 million dollars via optimum resource trenching aligned with strategic identification of weekends that tip marginally over the productivity-potential-threshold banana curve?" My minds does a cartwheel (not out of joy) and settles on the figure '96 million', wondering what fraction of that monstrosity would make my annual salary. I sputter and consciously bring myself to look interested in the debate. As I open my laptop to a swarm of emails ranging from 'High Importance' to 'NSFW', I am consistently goaded to provide a deadline for something I don't know how to achieve. "Uh, maybe first you should stop tickling me by breathing down my neck..." "YES! Nick of time, I know, but we need to commit to our mission statement of under-promising and over-deli..."
RUN. HIDE. ANNIHILATE. But you can't escape this eternity of a day.

Or maybe you can. Here's a few pointers. Take them with a pinch of salt, and if they don't work, sprinkle the salt in the eyes of whoever has been giving you a bad day.

1. Send out meaningless meeting invites: Turn into a maniac. Open that damn calendar. Bring up unimportant reasons to 'connect and communicate'. Loop in two kinds of people without fail: one, who are too busy to respond to your invite; and two, who are not very sure about what you do anyway - like that distant stakeholder, your CEO's secretary, or your HR head. Also, mark your boss on the invite but do let him know this is only to 'keep you informed'. Two hours later, send a spam email that begins with 'Thanks y'all who accepted the invite. For those who didn't, here are the minutes..." Trust me, no one in his right mind would make inquiries about the attendance roster.

2. Don't accept meeting invites: Besides the possibility that it can get you in trouble if you aren't prepared, it also makes you look desperate. Always TENTATIVELY accept with a cryptic "Will look up my calendar." Keeps all monkeys and snakes off your back.

3. Need to talk to you: Hover around the boss' desk and slip in this one-liner with a tone of utmost urgency yet composure. If he lends an ear promptly, let him know you want to mull over this thought for some time before looping him in. If he "aha?"s you, nod sagely and walk over to the coffee machine and laze around.

4. Drink but don't hide: Make sure your boss knows you are at the coffee machine. Appear pensive and insightful. Grab a colleague and start talking to him animatedly, knocking the life out of the kitchen cabinet. Actions speak louder than words, and you will never have realized this better. If the boss shows interest in your hogwash, save it for a discussion in the monthly team townhall. If he catches your bluff, there is always the manager's feedback form to let your angst out on.

Mondays are malleable. Manipulate them into allowing you to live through their offered drudgery. The rest of the week will be a breeze. Rinse. Repeat. Retweet.