RIP Joe

I don't know what it is about 35, that makes 15 look like half a life away. And cleverly preserve, in entirety, some memories that make yesterday a distant past.

One of these memories was of Joe at our school. Good ol' Joe.

He was the first guy we went to when we got hurt. You know. Kids at 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15 can be dangerous. Running around all over the place. Knocking a chair - or another kid - here, banging against a sharp desk there, generally having fights. Hey, that seat on the slope was mine you duffer. I'm gonna grab your sleeve and give you one jhaap.

And so whenever we used to get hurt, we used to run to Joe. You know. Apna bacha party, snot-filled noses, bloodied shirts, hands, cuts, bruises. All smiling happily. It hurts man, but its fun.

Not something you look upon kindly when you're 35. Like I am. But at 15, who cares? Like I didn't. Like all of us lads at St. Stanislaus didn't.

Because Joe was there. Ready with that tincture. Oh, is that what that red thing is called? Or is it purple? Man, it sure looks cool. Gimme some of that on my elbow. Or my knee. Whoa..doesn't hurt so much now does it? Good ol' Joe. He's always there. Just outside the principal's office.

Just before the principal whacks our hands and ass and make us kneel forever because we were fighting in class over that scented eraser. Or that Star Wars notebook. Heck, at least Joe'll rub that red stuff on your cuts and stuff. Ya, Joe, he's always around.

Not any more.

Joe passed away yesterday. More here, and an extract from our alumni website.

In 1947 Kippary Alphonse Maumkel arrived to work at St. Stanislaus at the age of 17. The Spanish Jesuits at the time found his name a tongue twister and started referring to him as Joe, Joseph being his father's name.

Joe was fondly known as Dr.Joe for his skill while attending to our wounds or administering us a tetanus injection when we journeyed through St. Stanislaus High School . He will also be remembered for bringing the world to us through Visual Instructions (VI) in the school hall.

He was a simple man who served St. Stanislaus for 60 years doing these seemingly simple tasks with a smile.

Go well Joe. Provider of aid and relief to many rebellious kids. That red tincture was our savior. There are many 15-year olds today all around the world who remember it. One in particular is typing this.

Hrishida, RIP

Hrishikesh Mukherjee (1922-2006). RIP

Thank you Hrishida.

For Anand
For Chupke Chupke
For Abhimaan
For Gol Maal
For....
For....

For leaving a mark in Hindi Film Cinema that can never be matched by anyone. And thank God for that.

For proving the truth in the adage that old is indeed gold.

For celebrating the brilliance of simplicity. Yes, life is lived in those utterly ordinary moments, and not in Hindi movies. Thank you for bridging that gap.

For the laughs, for those tears. They came from our hearts, as did your movies from yours.

For each moment of your movies that we will keep enjoying on TV, till they keep showing them.

For each of those moments will remind us of the joy that a movie can be.

Go well, sir. You will be missed.


PS - do read Oz's post here, where's he also linked to his superb write-up on Hrishida's masterpieces. Oz - you rock.

RIP Go 92.5FM

I caught the bright hoarding today morning at the Sayani Road junction. You know the one at Prabhadevi, before P. L. Deshpande auditorium. It was for a new radio station called “Radio One” and promised naya music, blah, blah.

And then the number on the hoarding hit me – “FM92.5”. Quickly I turned the dial to 92.5. Sure enough – there was Taraana saying “aap sun rahe hai Radio One! Thodi hi der mein hum batayenge traffic ka haal Jaggu ke saath”.

I typed “www.go925fm.com” and was instantly redirected to “www.radioone.in”.

And so Go 92.5FM is no more. Its ashes despatched to the air waves. Scotty’s already beamed them up.

I want to mourn the loss of a good radio station. But I already did a bit of that.

For some reason, Madonna’s “This used to be my playground” is playing in my head as I type this. With mixed feelings. Part sadness, part finality, part Radio ga-ga... "you had your time, you had your power, you've yet to see your finest hour". Only Go already had its finest hour a long time back. And now it's played it's last song.

So R.I.P. Go 92.5FM. Go well, old friend.