Superman Returns—–the Review


After a marathon love-making session, satisfied women coo: ” You are a superman”.

They never say “You are batman.” Or “You are spiderman”.

And there’s a reason for that.

It’s because Superman is by definition “super”–all-powerful, faster than a speeding bullet, a man of steel, totally impervious to everything except Kryptonite. He is neither an angsty teenager trying to come to terms with responsibility (Spiderman) nor a man trying to battle his inner demons and conquer fear (Batman). As Bill says in “Kill Bill II”, Superman is unique because while Peter Parker and Bruce Wayne have to wear costumes in order to become superheroes, Superman does the opposite i.e. he has to disguise his super-humanness by donning the garb of the “common man” (Clark Kent).

However, it is this uniqueness of Superman that is sacrificed in “Superman Returns”—Bryan Singer presents him as just another buff guy in blue tights.

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The Concept of Equality


Secularism, the way I understand it, is looking at all religions the same way without bias—in essence accepting the equality of all faiths (as opposed to my God bestest).

Likewise, gender-equality strives to attain equivalence of the sexes in terms of perception and opportunity.

Noble aims indeed and ones to which I fully subscribe to.

One of the fundamental concepts inherent in the definition of “equality” is that to an external observer, the two equal quantities should appear the same, modulo some property. In other words, if I say that A and B are equal in weight, then modulo the property of weight, they should be indistinguishable.


Or not?

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The Devil Dares Dada


So what’s Sourav Ganguly to do?

No matter how good he performs, he is not going to get selected.

Sourav Ganguly will never be a part of the Indian cricket team as long as Kiran More is the chief manipulator sorry selector.

According to whom?

Mr. More himself. (His minions have subsequently contradicted it)

Sourav knows the reason for that. It’s because he has always been perceived rightfully to be a man backed by Dalmiya — the bete noire of More’s puppetmaster—Sharad The Power, who some may say shares Al Capone’s love for his enemies.

I want this guy dead! I want his family dead! I want his house burned to the ground! I want to go there in the middle of the night and piss on his ashes!

I don’t agree. Pawar would never piss on his enemies ashes. He would just send Kiran More.

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Project World Cup


It’s a question we all keep asking ourselves. Especially when we see countries some plagued by civil wars, some with populations of about a million, do it every four years.

The question is obvious: why do we have the worst record in the world (well almost) when it comes to qualifying for the World Cup?

It’s not that we were always like this. Mohun Bagan were the first Asian side to beat an European team in 1911. We missed qualifying for the 1950 World Cup only because we were used to playing barefoot and the World Cup stipulated the wearing of shoes. Throughout the 50s and the 60s, India remained one of the top Asian soccer powers.

But by the 80s and 90s , things had reached their present nadir. PSV Eindhoven, a club team from the Netherlands, were thrashing India in friendlies—-10 goals per match were pumped past the hapless Indians. In the three matches we played against them, India found the back of PSV’s net only once (as far as I can remember) and that too from the foot of Chibuzor, a Nigerian first XI discard who together with Cheema Okerie (also a Nigerian never-been) and Jamshed Nassiri (Iran) were the “stars” of the Calcutta maidan firmament along with some home-grown men like Bidesh Bose and Prasun Banerjee.

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Cop A Feel


Paidal chal raha hoon, ek gaari chahiye,
Jeevan ke safaar main ek sawari chahiye,
Akela hain Mr. Khiladi,
Miss Khiladi chahiye. —
Mr and Mrs. Khiladi

All you hot “babes” (as per Hindustan Times lingo)—it’s time that you used your mini-skirts, tank tops, assorted accessories and most-of-all your knowledge of the Page 3 side of the force for the good of the country.


By going on a date with this man. And his other cohorts.

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Happy Happy Family


This seems to be the Sooraj Barjatiya Indian happy family—-only in a negative, antimatter universe where everything is inverted.

Stand aside you Mansons. Here come the Mahajans.

First the Alok Nath character–Daddy Mahajan, a new age politician-cum-powerbroker known to be fond of the good life. But then which politician isn’t—the only thing may have been that Daddy Mahajan was just a bit more brazen than most. It must however be said that all politicians don’t have their name mentioned in connection with the sensational murder of a lady reporter—but that’s a different story.

Well Daddy Mahajan met the fate Alok Naths in the alternative universe do. He was shot dead by his brother, Uncle Mahajan. The reason? Disgruntled Uncle-ji felt he was being allowed to make as much money as he should have been allowed to —being the brother of a politician and all that. Whispers of other motivations for the shooting abound—but since we at RTDM have a strict anti-rumour policy (I leave that for the blogmeets) I shall not delve into it.

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When I Die


When I die, would this be what people will say about me?

His known weakness was for good food, which made him overweight and diabetic.

[FYI: I am not diabetic]

Will gmail be in such an obscene hurry to recycle my mail space that within hours of my death, this would happen?

His e-mail was, which will be defunct from today.

Won’t anyone have the decency to forward my mails from my defunct account to so that I can read my spam from Dante’s second circle of Hell while listening to “Jhalak Dikh Lajaaa“? Won’t anyone have the decency to not call me overweight once my soul has left my defunct body?

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