Fair Enough?? (A short story)

Fair Enough??

Sitting on the floor cross-legged, with her hair ruffled like a cuckoo’s nest, her black-tee drenched in sweat and her denim shorts stained with blood, Anwesha stared at the floor like a baby in front of a sea. All these years, she lived in a world of coherence. She had parents, siblings, friends, neighbours, people with human traits, predictable and laughable. On that day, in those moments, her world turned upside down. A cave inhibiting a blood-thirsty beast came alive. She thought it to be just another fun-filled day in her life, another memorable day with her loved ones. Another outing to the unknown, another adventurous day! A teenage girl who could drive a car like a pro at the age of 12 through the busy streets of Connaught Place in the capital city of New Delhi, on a weekend, on her debut driving experience, nothing seemed unfamiliar, unknown or impossible. But a decade is just not enough to unearth the filthy face of a civilized society. In spite of being regarded as the bravest kid in the block, Anwesha succumbed to her worst fear in a matter of few seconds. Trapped, dragged, stripped, raped and beaten, the 17-year-old braveheart gave up on her belief in humanity. Being traumatised by her own kin was the last thing that could have happened to a person who regarded them to be her greatest strength.

Ankit Chaturvedi always wanted a daughter. On 14^th February, 1998, his wife Anisha Chaturvedi, gave birth to a seven pound miracle, whom they named Anwesha. To be straightaway categorized in the lower-middle class template of the Indian society, can be the greatest and funniest experience for a family. Mediocrity being a persistent quality in Ankit’s life, excellence was no less than a kilo of the American apple breed in a Wednesday market of a dingy and congested bylane of the capital city. Born and brought up amidst a chaotic, yet admirable survival platter of New Delhi, Anwesha grew up to be a wonder kid.

She was five years old when she walked up to the stage and hummed ‘Ek tu hi bharosa’, sung by India’s nightingale Lata Mangeshkar from the Anil Kapoor starrer ‘PUKAR’. She sang it so well that Mr. Gupta, the principal of her school was in tears. Mr. Gupta suggested Mr. And Mrs. Chaturvedi that she should learn singing.

A dry and sunny day near the India gate, Mr. Chaturvedi and his little princess were enjoying bhelpuri under the humungous shade of a Banyan tree, near the historic tourist attraction of India’s capital city. Anwesha brought with her a drawing book and some colour pencils before she came to her favourite place with her father. Just after they finished their street food session, she sat down and poured in her magical canvas of the day on the papyrus. Mr. Chaturvedi was stunned to see her drawing skills. His thought – ‘How can a nine-year-old do that?’ However, he was puffed with pride about her little angel’s abilities.

At the age of 16, she had won all major competitions in her school, 5 national-level debate championships, 8 national-level quiz competitions and was on the verge of creating history on a singing reality show on national television.

A week before the finale of the singing reality show, she arrived at her hometown. She was given a hero’s welcome, with people roaring ‘We love Anwesha’ and ‘Anwesha, you are amazing, fantastic’, the chaotic and mad love exhibition for her was somehow unbelievable for her. With more than 3000 people gathered at the Terminus 1 of the Indira Gandhi International Airport, the Delhi Police was witnessing the toughest job of their life – controlling a maniac crowd. Amidst the fanfare and needless cacophony, Mr. Chaturvedi saw her little girl getting intimidated by the love, or rather the alien love that she witnessed, thrust towards her. He opened his arms to her and asked her to run towards him, blindly. She almost stumbled before reaching the most peaceful corner of her life.

Back at Karol Bagh, Her mother was busy making her favourite Palak Paneer, Butter chicken and Baingan ka bharta, eagerly waiting for her little girl and to see those bright eyes, filled with pride and love. As Anwesha stepped inside the now-20-year-old 2-BHK apartment in Karol Bagh, she was smitten by the smell of her favourite dishes. After receiving and returning the hugs and kisses, Anwesha and her family sat down and devoured on their lunch.

The day after was special for Anwesha. She was invited by her maternal uncle and aunty to their C-67 duplex apartment in Noida, Sector – 13. Anwesha’s uncle, Mr. Dinkar Sharma, was an ardent admirer of her. He was the one who gifted Anwesha her first keyboard, knowing very well that she will be a ‘Rockstar’, as he used to call her, someday. Mr. Sharma was the one who urged Mr. Chaturvedi to allow Anwesha to participate in the auditions of the singing reality show. Mr. Sharma himself was a musician, trained in Indian classical and semi-classical from Lucknow’s Bhatkhande University. Anwesha’s love for music was first identified by him and since then, both Mr. Sharma and Anwesha shared an amazing chemistry – something which was pretty alien to Mr. And Mrs. Chaturvedi. Mr. And Mrs. Sharma lost their daughter in a horrifying car accident. Their daughter, Maahi, was also a gifted musician. However, her gift was valued by those who always wanted a price for it. Months before she breathed her last, Mr. And Mrs. Sharma tried their level best to understand their little star’s woe, but she never spoke about anything. Maahi, slowly and gradually, turned out to be a complete failure in studies as well as in her singing classes. Just when they found a way out to figure out Maahi’s issues, tragedy struck Sharma family. One fine day, lost in her thoughts, Maahi opened the gate of their duplex apartment, walked straight to the middle of the road and before she could come to her senses, a black SUV hit her and threw her on the barbed wire fencing of Mr. Sharma’s apartment. The musical sensation was spiked from her head to toe, leaving the wall beside Mr. Sharma’s study, blood red.

Although it’s been a decade now, Mr. Sharma has fought hard to forget the incident, but Anwesha and her innocence brings back all the memories of Maahi in front of his eyes. He is elated, but equally grief-stricken, whenever Anwesha takes a leap to hug Mr. Sharma’s 6 ft 5 inches persona. The love is reciprocated by him, but with an unspoken envy, which has no measures. With a grown-up girl like Anwesha, it was hard for him to behave in a way that he used to when she was a 5-year-old kid. He was careful enough to be cordial and friendly with the future singing superstar. Moments after Anwesha arrived with her parents and her family had the usual family chat with the Sharmas, lunch was served. It was lavish and delicious; each member of both the families enjoyed the mouth-watering dishes displayed in front of them. A rare family reunion every Indian girl or boy dies to be a part of.

Mrs. Chaturvedi’s anxiety suddenly rose to an unprecedented level when she could not find her daughter in her room. Mr. Chaturvedi gave a call to Mr. Sharma, without wasting any time. But it was of no use as Mr. Sharma’s phone was repeating the same banter again and again, ‘Is samay upbhokta ka mobile switched off hai, kripya thodi der baad dial karein’. At 6 in the morning, Mr. Chaturvedi remembered that Dinkar usually goes for a jog in the nearby park of his house, but not without his phone. Mr. Chaturvedi was not convinced, and so he drove to Mr. Sharma’s place. To his surprise, the apartment was locked. The neighbours had no clue and the guards were absolutely oblivious about the fact that there was a Sharma family residing in this apartment. Probably the guards were new, Mr. Chaturvedi thought. But then he wondered that how can a family travelling in a black SUV sneak away from the colony unnoticed. A police investigation was an inevitable scenario at this point. They searched the house, inch by inch, brick by brick, even the probable areas near the house. There was no trace of Anwesha anywhere, not even a clue that would suggest something.

Desserts have always been Anwesha’s weakness and Mrs. Sharma knew this pretty well. She prepared five different desserts, just to make sure that the other members of both the families don’t run out of options! Family get-togethers like these were incomplete without Anwesha’s performance. Both the families were spellbound with her magical voice. While Anwesha sang her favourite Lata Mangeshkar song, ‘Tu Jahan Jahan Chalega, Mera Saya Saath Hoga’, Mr. Sharma was transported to those fun-filled singing sessions that he used to have with his daughter.

She was nothing less than his prized treasure. But one fine day, when she returned from Mr. Chaturvedi’s place, after enjoying Anwesha’s birthday party, Maahi looked all weared out. It was as if someone had sucked the life out of her right in front of her eyes. Being a father, Mr. Sharma noticed Maahi’s face and asked her about what was wrong with her. Maahi’s face was bereft of all kinds of emotion at that point of time. She called out her mother immediately, with a voice that was fiercely fear-stricken. Mrs. Sharma took her to the bathroom, asked her to undress. As she was untying the waist belt of her denims, Mrs. Sharma started to sense the wrong. As Maahi was standing with her undergarment, Mrs. Sharma could not believe her eyes. She was devastated. She wanted to scream, but somehow held herself. She pulled down Maahi’s panty, washed her properly, and asked her to keep her mouth shut about this. But Mrs. Sharma knew that at that moment, she was speaking to a lifeless Maahi. Maahi was unable to grasp the incidents that she witnessed. It was only her mother who knew what the consequences will be after this day. Mr. Sharma was worried to his heart and bone about his little superstar. However, Mrs. Sharma somehow picked herself together and succeeded in convincing Mr. Sharma that it was just a game played amongst the children in Anwesha’s birthday party. Maahi lost the game pretty badly and so she was upset. Later on, when both of them were about to take a nap, Mrs. Sharma told Mr. Sharma that their kid’s innocence has been tampered with, that she was sexually abused and that she is in shock and trauma; a trauma which  might wither away the best in her. Mr. Sharma was desperate to take the legal way, but his wife begged of him to not make it a public affair. She wanted her family to gulp in this treacherous event of their life and move on, because such incidents are bound to happen in families like theirs. However, the next morning, when they saw their kid’s body spiked on their barbed wire fencing wall, avenging her death became an inevitable truth of their life.

After leaving the Sharma and Chaturvedi audience spellbound, Anwesha urged to stay back at Mr. Sharma’s. Anwesha’s parents considered the Sharmas as the second home for her. They agreed and asked her to be early at home. Mr. Sharma knew that this was the moment that he was waiting for since a decade. As the Sharmas bid adieu to the Chaturvedis, Anwesha ran towards Maahi’s room. Mr. Sharma followed her. In the meantime, he asked his wife to shut all the lights and go to sleep, as the decisive moment of their lives was just here.

As Anwesha sat on the cozy little bed of Maahi, Mr. Sharma approached her with a fatherly affection and planted a kiss on her forehead. He told Anwesha about things that Maahi loved in this room – the huge Barbie poster that was stuck on the wall just beside the bed, the framed masterpieces that Maahi created with her own little, magical hands, the toy guitar, lying on the floor like an orphan, the cute little teddies that exhibited an innocent stare, the floral bed cover, which was no more fragrant with her smell, the slippers that she often wore to take a walk with her father – all of them seemed to miss Maahi, just like her father.

Suddenly, Mr. Sharma lost his usual calmness and started to sound like a maniac. Anwesha was a little surprised to see such a transformation of her beloved uncle. The moment she wanted to ask him as to what went wrong with him, she received a tight slap on her soft and supple cheeks, making them blood red, instantly. Terrified, she started to cry out loud for help. But Mr. And Mrs. Sharma had planned for this far too long and they just could not let things falter their plans now. Mr. Sharma grabbed Anwesha’s tenderly grown neck, squeezed it so hard that she started to cough out blood. Anwesha was then laid out forcibly on Maahi’s bed, stripped to her undergarments and left to scream and cry for some time. Why was he doing this? What’s her fault? Why can’t she go home? She was terrified and was desperate enough to go home, but somehow she knew that she could not. She was again grabbed by her hair, and was thrown to the floor. She was beaten and kicked, repeatedly. Mr. Sharma unleashed the beast inside him. As Anwesha was lying down on the floor, helpless, wounded and traumatised, Mr. Sharma dropped his trousers, held Anwesha by her midriff, turned her around and tore apart Anwesha’s virginity. A 20-minute ordeal came to an end when Mr. Sharma was assured that she was now dipped in the marsh of shame, shock and trauma. Just when she thought that she was on the brink of death, Mrs. Sharma stepped in. She brought along a black tee that Maahi wore, when she was in a similar situation. The Sharmas left the room for a while, only to return, tie Anwesha’s hands by the back, tie her mouth and tell her that they are leaving this house, forever and that Anwesha will stay in Maahi’s room from now, forever. Flabbergasted, it was as if Anwesha lost her vocal chords. She could see everything, but her senses, her emotion were put to sleep. A day later, she saw someone in uniform approach her, but he too seemed to be part of the ploy.

At last, Anwesha had to stay in the desolate house with Maahi’s grief-stricken spirit, forever.  

BOHEMIA – To Flow Against The Wind

Long curly hair, black sunglasses, a headband, loose, flared trousers, wide boat neck shirt, high-heeled leather boots and a slouchy hat with a wide brim – Texas??? It sounds pretty much like American countryside attire. But definitely, it is not. You might recall Zeenat Aman grooving lethargically to R.D. Burman’s classic, ‘Dum Maaro Dum’. Hash been smoked off, nomadic life, staying rooted to the nature, a complete reject from regular fashion, standing out in the crowd, shocking the world – all these traits owe their allegiance to the hippie style that came to the fore in late 1960s.

Before getting into the Bohemian groove, let’s find out the meaning and significance of the name. With respect to the history of our human civilization, a Bohemian is a resident of Kingdom of Bohemia, better known as Czech Republic in the present geographical etymology. When it comes to ‘Bohemia’, it was derived from Boii, a Celtic tribe. Social unconventionality is a general reference that is often tagged with this particular term. The hippie movement during the mid-1960s in USA reinforced this idea of social rejection.

When it struck a chord in the world of fashion, fashion pundits all over the world considered Bohemian or Boho as a state of mind. This timeless and ageless psychological revolution induced a completely new definition of looking unique from the rest of the crowd. Bohemian clothing derives its parentage from ethnic wear. Colourful folk art or psychedelic, floral, geometrical, Moroccan kitsch, ancient Sanskrit or Devanagari scripture prints define Bohemian fashion. A Bohemian fashionista prefers to be outrageous rather than getting lost in the usual fashion labyrinths.

Being Bohemian does not necessarily demand embracing of a certain kind of clothing only. One who refuses to flow with the crowd establishes himself/herself as a Bohemian. Take a look at Audrey Hepburn and her fashion statements. Or for that matter, Lady Gaga, Kate Moss, Chloe Sevigny, Mischa Barton, Sienna Miller, The Olsens or any other well-known figure in the entertainment diaspora who have made headlines in newspapers and television worldwide, Bohemianism is always what they try and convey. Detailing is another important aspect of boho-chic style. Accessories like layered necklaces, berets and head scarves, belts, moccasins, cowboy boots, leggings, ballerina flats, platform shoes, and sequined vests complete your Bohemian style quotient.

Bohemian style quotient is all about individuality, anti-establishment, critical thinking and a core interest in art, literature, music and visual arts. 

 

 

SEX…….Ummmmm…Ahemmmm…Ahemmmm….

While I was staring at the bruised wall patches in my room yesterday night, I wondered how desperate we humans have become to survive in this planet. Desperate enough to kill each other! Reckless ways of puking out frustration has become human nature these days. It is not at all an ‘India Shining’ moment when we come to know that the capital city of this country helps flourish human animals. I know it’s too much of the same thing again….to go through the same old stuff that has kept bothering you recently. I sit here and type these words not to complete just another task assigned to me, but it is for the dire need of self-realisation in our society.

‘The girl should have surrendered to the men at that moment. At least it could have saved her intestines’ – said by an educated women in a press conference. If that was not enough, some bloody saintly figure barked this – ‘She should have made them her brothers. You cannot accuse them being responsible for what has happened to her. She herself is guilty for this.’ Most of you would definitely love to kick both of their…. (ahemmm…ahemmm). However, I don’t blame them. What happened to these people after they said all this nonsense? Oh, I forgot…freedom of expression. So, that means anybody can say anything about any issue; no matter how sensitive the issue is? At a time when the entire nation was mourning the death of the girl, these two (I really want to use the word but you all know I can’t…just utter it for me when you read this) vomited out their irrational and insensitive statements.

A tree grows well when we care for it from its roots or seeds. Our paralysed patriarchal psychology seems have attained an incurable state. Whenever it’s about sex, we either switch channels or move away from the situation. What on earth is so ugly in this? I am absolutely sure that none of you have come out straight from the asteroid falling on earth or have just popped out of nowhere?! Admit it, each one of us is a sexual by-product of copulation. It only becomes ugly when males start taking females as sexually satisfying organisms. For all those who think so, ask your mother about where did you come from? Keep asking them until they call you a pervert, kick you out of your house and then to complete your urge, you catch a girl walking down the road along with her friend in the night, put your toy inside her forcefully, and then satisfy your quest!!

I am just explaining a situation. This is exactly the nature of a greater fraction of men in the Indian society. It’s an earnest request to all the people involved in the education ministry, make sex education imperative in every school. I know it is already, but not in some of the most ‘so called’ developed states in this country. Grassroot level change can only act as the harbinger of a larger change!!!!

WHY SO ALAG CHHE?!

After the culmination of another insane season of BIGG BOSS, I can recall just one thing – entertainment amalgamated with chaos. After a tiring day in office, you sit and see people bitching about all kinds of nonsense. Betrayal, double crossing, shocks and surprises have become the staple ingredients of entertainment. We just can’t deny the fact so easily that we do enjoy watching all these human traits dancing in front of our eyes. No way can you do away with the fact that you enjoy watching Imam doing absolutely notorious things for other members in the house….o yes, GOTCHA!!!

The topsy turvy situations designed by BIGG BOSS for the poor contestants in the house can make you do two things – curse yourself to switch on to such a bogus riot or forget everything to watch ugly human emotions. My perception for such a show might not be that encouraging. However, I do agree with you on this fact that it is after all entertainment. Isme action hai, drama hai, romance hai aur bahut saara bakwaas bhi hai…bruhahahahaha!!!! None of us like people screaming on our ears, but we do enjoy Urvashi screaming on Imam, Sapna screaming on Imam or for that matter, anybody screaming on anyone in the BIGG BOSS house.

The big relief out of all this – Salman Khan! His presence and his interaction with the contestants is just so relieving, phewwwww! As the show reached its culmination, most of us conveniently drew the character map that each of the contestants fell into. However, few of our predictions were proved wrong, some were damn right. We knew Imam would stay till the end, but never knew that Urvashi Dholakia would be the BIGG BOSS Season 6 winner. Quite a night for the lady! Finally, I would say it was again entertainment at its best, no matter how bad or ugly it was.

Can Creativity Be Commissioned?

While you marinate your delicious chicken, adding in the right ingredients makes for a perfectly cooked delicacy. However, your tryst for creating a signature taste lies in your secret ingredient. And yes, there has to be a secret ingredient! It might get a little philosophical, but we have to understand that every human mind has its own way of perceiving things in and around it. A chiffon saree with sensuous embroidery work might just not appeal to me the way it appeals you. Why? The list of reasons may be either endless or too small. Feminine sensuality may have different connotations for all of us. It might just define a woman or just unleash an undiscovered feminine aspect. You see, most of you have actually started nodding your heads!

Commissioning creativity is never a welcoming thought for creative minds. Lending a space for creativity has always been an issue with human minds. Unleashing that latent creative heat needs a lot of work. However, some of us are blessed with it. Some of us do boast about this, while others believe in silently working upon their varied creative facets. While you choose a write-up to go through, it is always your taste which makes or breaks your curiosity. Some of us may succeed in engaging the eyes and the cerebral faculty for a longer time. But even if we fail to do so, we should not take it as a negation of our creative ability. Sometimes, our thoughts and ideas do not go parallel with rest of the mortal minds!

That you need to channelize your thought for a certain purpose is not really an inspiring thought at all. I won’t deny that I am empathising with those who actually harbour an inimitable creative hub in their psychology. However, I won’t step back in stating this - unique minds have unique rejections! Moulding your creative treasure according to the market trends may bring you money, but it will never make you happy. It is just because you are not allowed to be ‘you’. Yes, we are adaptable to all kinds of change, but we are not so welcoming when it comes to compromise our inner voice. You might smell a rebellious thought here, but that’s how creative minds churn out their pain. No one’s stopping you in bombarding your critical comments, but remember – unique ideas needs to understood uniquely!

JUST QUIT PLAYING WITH HER..WILL YOU??

If I say that I prefer women, most of you would definitely consider me as a normal human being. Some of you might consider me as a qualified flirt, others might just love to hate me! Whatever it is, let me confess this – I have always been an ardent admirer of womanhood and will continue to be so. Why? Well, it’s just the kind of society that I live in and the amazing rationality that prevails here which has been responsible in shaping my supportive psychology towards women. Talking about women is just so engaging for guys. Yeah, that wicked smile says it all! Using the word ‘typical’ might sound derogatory here, but that’s how we can actually define the entire patriarchal architecture of our society.

Typical men always consider themselves superior in all respects to a woman. Sorry sir, your mother crushed 206 bones in her body to push you out of her vaginal cavity. If you still consider yourself to be a ‘man’, try and respect this fact. I might sound a little vindictive here, but considering the amount of respect that a woman receives in our multicultural society, this is how the menfolk should get addressed. You might recall the heated letter to a Delhi boy written by a South Indian girl and the reply posted by  a Delhi guy to the South Indian girl while you are going through this nonsense trivia. However, I considered it important to surface the nude truth that resides behind all the physical and psychological turmoil that a woman is subjected to in our country.

Leaving all other aspects of learning about women, I would love to dart down on her psychology. Physiological discussion might establish me to be an extremely horny living being, but I have never considered it to be a spicy add-on to a guy talk. Erotic and sensuous – these two traits of a woman are considered to be a taboo in many sections of our society. Again, here I would like to remind all my male counterparts, the human civilization just can’t be imagined without a woman’s cooperation. You know what I mean! Now, having said that, women are far more than just good copulation companions. Please try to consider a woman as the pillar of this society, it’s not at all a difficult task.

Alright, I was again flowing away from my point of consideration. Talking about her psychology, maano ya na maano, she is far more intelligent, smarter and capable than men. How is that possible? If you are married, just let your wife rest for one day and slip in to her shoes (you don’t have to tamper her exclusive footwear collection) for just one day. Oh yes, right from getting up early and going to bed late at night. Every single activity that she does to make your day a normal one. Well, if you are not married, try and have more female friends and you will know why they are the most complicated creatures on this earth. Of course that’s not the only prerogative for you to dive deep inside a woman’s psychology.

Having asked to make more female friends might just make you question my sexual orientation. But let me clarify this beforehand, I have no such plans in my mind! After all that blabbering above, what I really want to convey is that respect is something which does not need much character toil. Our country worships a long list of goddesses – Durga, Mahakali, Lakhsmi, Saraswati…- the list is too long. Ours moms, grannies, sisters, girlfriends, sister-in-laws, friends belong to the same species. I really wonder, what kind of a difference does our testosterone driven class find in them?! A woman wearing lingerie or a bikini or posing nude is all that is a part of this legendary womanhood. A man just can’t look appealing wearing any of those outfits! Please understand that.

I know it’s not possible to transform our orthodox temperament overnight, but can we just try and not look at our women with that aphrodisiac attitude….!!!

Utterly Disappointing!!

When you dare to design a complicated social platter with respect to a multicultural society like India, you must have the balls to make it receptive enough for the audience. When you know that someone like Prakash Jha is daring to take on the most complicated and burning social issue of the country, you inevitably have the highest expectation of witnessing a memorable cinematic experience. It’s an obvious human psychological instinct that it always expects excessively from people doing invincibly well in their field.

Prakash Jha has been associated with some of the most controversial and yet successful films like Gangaajal, Rajneeti and Apaharan. All of them were a deep insight onto the complications of the Indian society ruled by some of the most complicated political, social and economic contours. I know that sounds highly boring, but believe me, if you have watched all his movies, you might have some sleepless nights. But not with his new venture ‘Chakravyuh’ because….I guess Mr. Jha has started watching too many Balaji horrors (by Balaji horrors I mean the ridiculous soaps and serials that have always been the sole reason for feminine dominance over the idiot box!).

Chakravyuh is the most disappointing cinematic experience that I have come across this year (of course I didn’t dare to watch Rowdy Rathore and its prototypes). With a highly sensitive issue like Naxalism, it is always necessary to have a crude understanding about the complicacy of the issue. While watching the movie, I was just wondering about the deliberate attempt to make it a typical Masala Bollywood movie. Adding to the misery was a predictable story. Far more worse were excessively melodramatic performances by Esha Gupta, Arjun Rampal and Abhay Deol. Manoj Bajpayee and Om Puri were the only saviour in this regard.  

The only silver lining that one may find in the movie is the cinematography. Action by Abbas Ali Moghul is also appreciable, but not just good enough to give you the jitters that one had while watching Gangaajal. Prakash Jha’s attempt to make the film look more real succeeded to a little extent with the locations. Excluding Kailash Kher’s ‘Mehengaai’, all other songs were just forced injections in the story. Concluding such a huge issue just by saying that the war will continue until we find some immediate solution reminded me of my moral science class during my school days. I would really want Mr. Prakash Jha to watch ‘Hazaar Chaurasi ki Maa’ once. Well, if he has already watched it a dozen times, he should watch it again. Because it’s not that simple as he has tried to make it through his unquestionable directorial abilities.

I know I sound really pissed. Well, I am. Why? You don’t spend your precious 250 bucks from your pocket on such a disappointing attempt on such a burning issue.