[Is it?] The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year....

[No I haven't forgotten about this blog... just stopped checking the referral and visitor stats, and logging into Blogger. Imagine my surprise on seeing two two week old drafts lying there, waiting to cross over the space beyond the 'publish post' button...]

*The title refers to and reminds me of a song from the film, "Home Alone 2"...*

A strange realization... Maybe explaining it requires I characterize this post, this as-yet-incomplete, as-yet-barely-begun post, as a space, As I stumble around an empty space

Now grooving to: John Powell, "Moscow Wind Up" (Bourne Supremacy OST.)

Recently... not much to write up/on about, except a sudden rash, in the past week, of some partying, some socializing, some thinking, and some (what alcoholics call) "moments of clarity"; much drinking, much reading, many friends and lots of family. But it's best to leave the detailed reflections on most of these events and phenomena until another time.

The aforementioned revelry and excess... BradAttitude, mentioned early during the life of this blog and (let's call her) HunterWali went from being x years old, to x+1. Good cheer and much love were all around, especially after several rounds of drinks, extended bitching sessions, glazed "woah, having a tough time keeping my eyes open" conversations, and varied insights into the working of some men and women's minds.

The end result... Ever got back home so sloshed that you collapsed into bed, shoes still on? All while commanding and struggling with one's fingers and mind to coordinate the composition of an SMS? Most of these read "i'm ok, got home fine, had a really wonderful time, thanks for having me there." But better, they felt accompanied by a context - aura, even - of a fuzzy goodness and warmth, a sincerity and feeling.
_

Since I've mentioned the phrase "hunter wali" (perceptions of whom have shifted considerably in the past week), here's something really funny that google dragged up:

The film begins with an elderly white-wigged sage riding along on his cart accompanied by his demure niece along the dusty unpaved roads connecting the Pinds of rural Punjab. As they approach Nurpur pind (Nurpur is to Punjab as Main Street is to America) they find their path obstructed by an unkempt looking bed lying in the middle of the road. It ought to be kept in mind that this bed (the manjhee) within the realm of this fascinating culture is akin to male dogs territorial pissing in that it is a distinct mark of a territorial zone. Just as a dog attempts to spread its piss all over the place and thus mark out what he considers to be his domain, the village Chaudhary also marks out the boundaries of his turf by plonking his Manjhee at a specific spot as a mark of his identity and ownership. Thus when the old fogey asks four rather intimidating and well paunched goons to consider moving the manjhee out of the way, it is taken as an affront of the most humiliating kind.

The fogey reminds the goons that he did ask them politely, but the goons are adamant and refuse to let the oldie pass unless he hand over his daughter to them in exchange! The oldie loses his shirt and is subsequently thrashed to a pulp by the fat goons. Meanwhile at the fogey's home, the adoring parents of Umri (Sultan Rahi) are deriving utmost delight at the sheer brilliance of their son. The dashing Umri is demonstrating to his cooing parents how he can easily tame the most obstinate horse with the sheer powers of his pure masculinity. A proud father tells Umri about how it is his wish that he tame the famous Hunterwali's notoriously unruly horse - a horse that has never been controlled by a mere mortal and who the Hunterwali's super wealthy father has offered massive rewards for taming. Rahi mocks the task as being too easy for someone of his mighty talents but he is interrupted by the arrival of his sister who has returned without a duputta on her head - never a good omen. She recounts the tale of the manjhee and of the goons who thrashed poor old cha cha ji to a pulp. Moments later Umri is off on his freshly tamed horse………to teach the goons of Nurpur Pind a lesson they will never forget. Meanwhile he also sets his sights on taming the Hunterwali's horse and maybe even the Hunterwali herself!

This is the scintillating premise of the film which brings together the same old tried and tested (stale and worn out?) team of Sultan Rahi, Anjuman and Mustafa Qureshi for the zillionth time. The grand Raja (Talish) of a neighbouring village and the father of the infamous Hunterwali challenges all comers to try to ride Hunterwali's wild horse Moti but naturally no one can dare to try to achieve the impossible. However just as it looks as though another annual Mela will draw to its boring conclusion, Umri arrives to take up the challenge and duly conquers Moti much to the disgust of the Hunterwali. Raja Sahab had promised the man who tamed Moti any thing he asked for but when Umri asks for his daughter Baali the Hunterwali's hand, he is more than a little taken aback. However, being the town figurehead he has to keep his word and is about to force poor Baali to marry Umri when fate intervenes. Umri is attacked by the goons who had tried to rape his sister and ends up killing the lot of them. Word spreads that Umri is a murderer and this gives Raja sahab the chance to get off the hook by calling off the wedding to his daughter Baali.

Read the rest - but be careful: the plot has multiple characters, and memorable twists and turns ;-)