"Sattu, don't send me to London","Don't call your father by his name", "Well Grandma calls you Sattu too", " Because she is my mom". Rare occasion might be but this conversation between young Dev and his father provides enough insight to Dev's ungrateful and remorseless character. In next 2 minutes grown-up Dev (Abhay Deol) asks Paro (Mahie Gill) for a 'bit' of a cyber fun. She agrees while knowing what a tease it will be. Follow-the-heart or in other words where the heart is at, the LIBIDO.

Please welcome back with a round of applause to the mind behind grenade exploding Satya (1998) and bone-chiller Kaun (1999)'s writer Mr Anurag Kashyap. I missed out on his first directorial venture, Paanch (2003), but Black Friday (2004) and No Smoking (2007) gave me reason to wonder his courage, only. Dev D is a chance at reminder of his true writing talent resembling the widest horizons of Satya and Kaun. Dev D is a movie of the generation of MMS voyeurs, cyber punks and flesh famished junkies. Male and Female hand in hand narrowing the gap to a single 'byte'. The 'byte' being the difference between the core properties of their respective 'connectors'. Nobody can ask Mr Kashyap," So what is your contribution to Saratchandra Chatterjee's classic novel?" It is as blatant as any internet sensation's strength to spread over the globe overnite. Nailed it!! I mean, 'proper' nailed it.

Abhay Deol does it again. After playing desi-version of JJ Gittes, Manorama-Six Feet Under(2007), and a cool superchor, Oye Lucky Lucky Oye (2008), he is back as arguably the most popular loser in the history of Indian literature, Devdas. Unlike charming Yusuf saab's 1955 version or beloved Shahrukh Khan's 2002 version, this one is a brat. Not only that but he is surrounded by brat versions of Paro (Mahie Gill) and Chandramukhi (kalki Koechlin). Blame Dev and Paro's 'choices' on the age of internet but Paro has her strong reasons. Talk about character building. Chanda's pre-call-girl story is unfaltering. Reminded me Fenix's troubled and bloody childhood in midnight-movie-genre inventor Alejandro Jodorowsky's Santa Sangre (1989). Can't really blame Chanda's choice at the life style. But it is rather necessary to get drugged to the tunes of 'Ankh Micholi' as Chanda leans her head out of the bus' window. Strongly reminiscent of Joker's head tilt out of the stolen cop car's window in The Dark Knight (2008). Talk about Dev and his character's impulses. Well impulse is what makes us human. The characters in this movie have impulses to watch porn, gulp down vodka-coke (i mean seriously?, screw-the-world choice maybe) and chase dragons. These guys have 'rivers of white water' (like the dudes in Dil Dosti Etc). Regret is unheard of. Fear is un-felt of, until one moment for Dev. It had to be the fear of death for Dev to re-evaluate his choices in life. The character study doesn't get any more convincing than this. Abhay understands the necessity all the way and gives a stunning performance. The scene with his mother is a great example.

When writing stops the camera starts to show it's power. Kashyap went with Danny Boyle's suggestion to use the German camera, used in Slumdog Millionaire, to shoot Dev D. The revolving takes focusing nothing but Abhay's drooling face are illustrious. The steadicam reminds of Arronofsky's Requiem for a Dream (2000). The luminous streets of Delhi and blinking cheap hotel signs are 'Oldboy'ish and striking. Amit Trivedi's music becomes an integral part of this bonanza. 'Nayan Tarase, Pardesi and Emosanal Atyachar' blend and make this flicker-show fly high.

How much ever Dev D reminds of anything seen before, this one stays as one of the remarkable original works of art. Dev D is an important addition to the current golden era of Bollywood. The era of A Wednesday, Rock On, Manorama, Dil Dosti Etc and Luck By Chance. This era is reminiscent of the independent film driven '70s Hollywood era of Taxi Driver, Network, Dog Day Afternoon, El Topo and Chinatown. That era was ended by gargantuan commercial success of an independent film called Star Wars (1977). Paul Schrader said, it killed Hollywood. I am fingers crossed for the independent filmmakers of Bollywood.