Ustad Hotel (Malayalam; 2012)
It is not just about owning a property. It is also about generating economy. It used to be that the owner of a piece of land will be King. Nature will bestow the yield with its raw materials. The landowner will provide for his subjects, whom, he subjugated via conquest or stature. In return, he will be served. Come to think of it, so did the Mafia. They provided for what the legitimate bodies found to be non-profitable or poor returns on investments.
Modern economies had real estates as such hot commodities. Each and every square inch of God's Earth has to be owned by someone and be developed. Developers and bankers all have their own arm-twisting techniques to squeeze that lone recalcitrant small landowner to surrender his property. They would bring in new legislation, enforcement protocol or taxes. It is evident that the powers that be are subservient to the rich entities. They believe that spurring economic activities will have a trickle-down effect. We now know it only widens the gap between the have and have notes. It is not that simple.
In this country, a group of intellectuals are lamenting that much of the nation's prized land bank has been given away to foreigners and citizens of a particular ethnicity. The funny thing is that they are blaming the recipients and the former colonial masters for the shenanigans, not the present administrators, even though this practice continues till date. It is an open secret that many land swapping deals happen at the highest level in full view of the powers that be.
Perhaps, it is business that dictates who owns what, not sentimentality. It is the economy, stupid. Before Independence, many of the lands around Malaysia was owned by the money lending Chettiars who would usurp lands from their creditors for lapsing payments. They would gloat looking at their vacant properties even though they were just attracting lalang and grazing cows. All these changed after the 1969 racial riots and the fear of instability as the Chettiars sold their realties and returned lock, stock and barrel to India. The Chinese who bought them over were courageous enough to develop these properties. Pretty soon mushroomed supermarkets, housing estates and cineplexes. He who tills the land gets satisfied with bread and also satisfies the whole village of their hunger. It is about working on the land, not merely owning it.
This brand of a new wave of films tends to hit the Indian movie scene these days. No more the same aged actors romantically paired with actresses old enough to be their daughters or pretty young things that are apparent mismatch the people surrounding them. And no more bad dubbing.
This movie combines realistic acting with a refreshing look at Kerala outdoors. The music is fresh and tends to grow on the listeners.
It tells the tale of a chef, Faizi, who is disowned by his father for choosing the profession that he so despised. Faizi's grandfather, who owns a small-time biryani restaurant, takes him in and teaches him the philosophy of cooking. To cook is not just to fill the stomach, but to satisfy the minds, of the feeder and the one being fed. Even though Faizi has plans to be a famous chef in Europe, as expected, he finds his calling in India.
It is not just about owning a property. It is also about generating economy. It used to be that the owner of a piece of land will be King. Nature will bestow the yield with its raw materials. The landowner will provide for his subjects, whom, he subjugated via conquest or stature. In return, he will be served. Come to think of it, so did the Mafia. They provided for what the legitimate bodies found to be non-profitable or poor returns on investments. Modern economies had real estates as such hot commodities. Each and every square inch of God's Earth has to be owned by someone and be developed. Developers and bankers all have their own arm-twisting techniques to squeeze that lone recalcitrant small landowner to surrender his property. They would bring in new legislation, enforcement protocol or taxes. It is evident that the powers that be are subservient to the rich entities. They believe that spurring economic activities will have a trickle-down effect. We now know it only widens the gap between the have and have notes. It is not that simple.
In this country, a group of intellectuals are lamenting that much of the nation's prized land bank has been given away to foreigners and citizens of a particular ethnicity. The funny thing is that they are blaming the recipients and the former colonial masters for the shenanigans, not the present administrators, even though this practice continues till date. It is an open secret that many land swapping deals happen at the highest level in full view of the powers that be.
Perhaps, it is business that dictates who owns what, not sentimentality. It is the economy, stupid. Before Independence, many of the lands around Malaysia was owned by the money lending Chettiars who would usurp lands from their creditors for lapsing payments. They would gloat looking at their vacant properties even though they were just attracting lalang and grazing cows. All these changed after the 1969 racial riots and the fear of instability as the Chettiars sold their realties and returned lock, stock and barrel to India. The Chinese who bought them over were courageous enough to develop these properties. Pretty soon mushroomed supermarkets, housing estates and cineplexes. He who tills the land gets satisfied with bread and also satisfies the whole village of their hunger. It is about working on the land, not merely owning it.
This brand of a new wave of films tends to hit the Indian movie scene these days. No more the same aged actors romantically paired with actresses old enough to be their daughters or pretty young things that are apparent mismatch the people surrounding them. And no more bad dubbing.
This movie combines realistic acting with a refreshing look at Kerala outdoors. The music is fresh and tends to grow on the listeners.
It tells the tale of a chef, Faizi, who is disowned by his father for choosing the profession that he so despised. Faizi's grandfather, who owns a small-time biryani restaurant, takes him in and teaches him the philosophy of cooking. To cook is not just to fill the stomach, but to satisfy the minds, of the feeder and the one being fed. Even though Faizi has plans to be a famous chef in Europe, as expected, he finds his calling in India.
