Expressions

2009-07-12T17:12:00.004Z

I guess I have lost interest in writing. But I hope this too shall pass. I hope I get back to do what I used to love. I hope to get back to some writing. To get back to narrating stuff and conjuring up stories.

Sooner than later.

I hope.

Till then. Bye.

26

2009-05-26T18:32:00.003Z

Its the 26th and its my 26th

Ombattu Gudde Trek

2009-04-14T10:37:00.006Z

Be a REBEL! - En route Nagalapuram

2009-03-10T18:56:00.004Z

Video shot last Sunday while traveling towards Nagalapuram for the trek.

And for your information, the guy in the red T-shirt is the one who is driving the car and I am the one who is shooting the video! ;)

ps: Watch the HQ version (might take a little time to buffer) and make sure the audio is on.

Naan Kadavul

2009-02-07T14:05:00.016Z

Naan Kadavul is Bala’s fourth outing after attaining critical acclaim with his first three movies Sethu, Nandha and Pithamagan. People familiar with his movies and characters would know his fascination towards the morbid and the macabre. Naan Kadavul stays faithful to that genre.

Close to three years in the making, the movie has generated considerable hype accompanied, by a truckload of rumors. When one hears that the protagonist of the movie is an Aghori, it is quite natural for people’s imagination to take flight. For starters, an Aghori is a sadhu, an ardent devotee of Lord Shiva, who has his own rituals and practices to reach God. He lives in crematoriums, meditates on corpses, smears ashes from burnt bodies and eats flesh from the dead. Or at least, this is the picture one gets after some research online.

So when a director of Bala’s caliber makes a movie with an Aghori as a protagonist one expects to learn more about the life and ways of this unusual sect of Sadhus who live in Varanasi. The trailer too had enough elements in it to whet one’s appetite about the same.

But unfortunately Bala disappoints here. The Aghori part turns out to be a very small portion of the vast canvas that he has chosen to paint (in dark colors). Naan Kadavul is never really about Rudran (Arya) or his background in Varanasi. In fact the scenes shot there are too few and they get over quickly before you settle down. The character in itself occupies very little screen time. A small portion of the amount of care taken to project his physical appearance could have gone into the making of his mental setup as well. The audience is left in the lurch as to what exactly is his philosophical stand point in life.
Unlike Kamal Hassan’s ‘Anbe Sivam’ which carried a message that there is God in everyone which can be put as ‘I am God but so are you’, the protagonist of Naan Kadavul only proclaims ‘I am God’. He never seems to care about any one else. All he does is smoke pot, utter mystic sayings in Sanskrit, strike upside down yoga poses and walk fast in his langoti with his chest pumped out. It is never clear as to what philosophy he learned from the Aghori sadhus who had brought him up. Even in the scene where his mother demands to know from his father what he was up to in Varanasi, his explanation is muted with background score.

As a child Rudran is abandoned in Kasi by his father as advised by astrologers. Years later, the father repents for his act and goes in search for his son and finds him. Rudran’s guru pulls him aside and instructs him to leave with his father and put an end to all this worldly relations and return to him when the time comes. And he adds that Rudran himself would know when the said moment arrives.

It is now that the director starts painting elaborate brush strokes on the canvas in blood red as the focus shifts to the world of physically and mentally deformed beggars (or urupadies as they are refereed) in Malaikoyil, South Tamil Nadu. Controlled by the beggar master Thandavan, the plight of the beggars is spine chilling. The cries of a cripple when Thandavan pulls a spiked rod on his back to keep him crying in order to evoke sympathy, stays with you for long. Though we might try to calm the sense of nausea and uneasiness that creeps up and wraps around our body as Thandavan mercilessly unleashes his cruelty on the hapless beggars saying it is just a movie, deep down in our hearts we do know that the probability of such things happening are very strong. We don’t live in a world of saints and angels.

To lead authenticity the entire cast has been selected from real-life differently abled people. And the song ‘Pitchai pathiram’ picturized on them has to be one of the most gut-wrenching songs in Indian cinema. It had me on the verge of tears. Absolute pathos and too heavy on the heart - One of the main reasons I am hesitant to watch the movie a second time. But the reception to this portrayal of beggars in a society that conspicuously shuns the very sight of them is to be seen.

Similar to Rohinton Mistry’s ‘A fine balance’ all is not bleak and dreary with this bunch of beggars that beg outside a temple on a hill top. It is rather surprising that the dialogues delivered by them are so simple, witty and sharp in spite of their circumstances that it has the audience in splits most of the time. Especially the midget who has you smiling just by the way he laughs. It is a wonderful and amazing performance from them given that they are not regular actors. Their characters have been so well etched that though you never really know their names, their characters remain memorable.

And enter Hamsavalli (a stunning Pooja) a blind girl who earns alms singing in trains. She is spotted on one such journey by Murugan an accomplice of Thandavan and he promptly has her separated from her troop and clubbed together with the rest of the beggars on the hill top. And it is not hard to guess in whose hands she would be suffering henceforth. The scene at the police station before the separation, with Hamsavalli’s troop of imitation and mimicry artists is hilarious. MGR, Sivaji and Rajini would never mind but I am pretty sure actress Nayanthara would not be pleased by the way she has been portrayed. You got to see the movie to understand what I mean!

Bala’s heroes are getting more animalistic with the passage of each movie. Sethu was a very volatile young man who at least was a college student. Nandha was a murder convict and a henchman. Sithan was an animal in human form born and brought up in a graveyard. And in that league of ascending violence, now we have Rudran whose one shout is enough to have a police constable scampering for cover like a rat and a baby burst into a terrified wail. It is interesting to note that in spite of all the violence that his characters indulge in, they almost never use a weapon!!

Though the characterization has its flaws, Arya has tried his best and lent a brilliant performance as Rudran. His very appearance gives loads of attitude to the character, add to it his superb built, gruff voice and powerful stare. Brilliant. The fight sequences are too good and packed with raw machismo. Both the fight sequences are awesome and the way he drags Nair among the bushes is equivalent to watching a lion drag a deer to its den. Had the Aghori practice been portrayed clearly earlier this would have been a truly shocking scene. But it fails to deliver the punch as we are forced only to assume what he did to the body after he killed it. When questioned about it in court his response is censored.

And providing rock solid counter performance is the villain Thandavan. I don’t remember a more terrifying villain in recent times. His body language and dialogue delivery are spot on. He is an embodiment of physical cruelty but also makes you squirm in your seats with his verbal assault. It is shocking to watch the way he inspects each handicapped person and comments as if they were handicrafts in an art emporium.

But it is Pooja who shell-shocks us with her performance. In addition to acting she has dubbed in her own voice for the role (a prerequisite for national award consideration). The only sore point with her character is when she sings, it suddenly becomes very cinematic. It sticks out like a sore thumb. She is beyond recognition in the scene where she rues about her miserable and pathetic existence and begs Rudran to relieve her from this misery. (It is believed that Aghoris have the power to stop rebirth and help a person attain nirvana.) And what happens next is pretty graphic.

And now coming to the very backbone of the movie - Maestro Illayaraja. This man is a true genius. The re-recording is terrific and matches the mystical, uneasy aura of the movie. The introduction song for Rudran ‘Om Sivoham’ is amazing invoking other worldly sound beats and in complete contrast is the melodious and soulful ‘Pitchai pathiram’ rendered by Madhu Balakrishan who does a K.J. Jesudas here.

On the whole, a typical Bala film with his signature style and theme. Only that it got all the more darker this time around. I would have been a lot happier had Rudran’s character been portrayed better.

This movie is not recommended for kids and people who hate gore and morbid themes.

Chennai Tweetup @ Broken Bridge

2009-01-04T15:36:00.006Z

Joined a bunch of tweeters from Chennai today morning for a tweetup @ Besant Nagar. We had great fun. We gathered in front of Planet Yumm, had our breakfast at Murugan Idly Shop before driving down to broken bridge. For those of you people who don't know which bridge it is, recollect the scene from Ayutha Ezhuthu where Surya practises breaking bottles! Got it? Good. Then came back to Alsa Mall for...what else...sandwich!

Here are a few pics...

King Ashoka and the Carrot Halwa

2009-01-03T10:49:00.005Z

I had this recurring dream.

Kunala Harihara Prasada Shastrikal was this kick-ass cook in the reign of Ashoka the Great. Every time he cooked something, King Ashoka went to the kitchen and kicked him in the ass. Every single time. But until he made carrot halwa for the king one fine evening.

Ashoka was completely floored that he immediately called the HR and promoted Harihara Shastrikal as the Chief Executive Cooker. But as expected this did not go down well with the remaining cookers.

So one night, under the cover of black darkness the bad cookers smashed Shastrikal's head with a huge boulder.Their anger was so great and menacing that they took turns to smash his head. And the palace echoed with their vile laughter when someone remarked Shastrikal's head now looked like carrot halwa.

King Ashoka never heard a sound for he was busy with his wife in his deluxe bedroom.

The bad cookers threw the body into a huge dry well in the suburbs and went to chill out in a discothe. There they danced with great joy and vigor for "Adra adra Nakku Mukka...Nakku Mukka"

And King Ashoka, when he came to know of the incident, cried for 8 days and 7 nights in memory of the carrot halwa. He never really missed Harihara Shastrikal.

So, when I had this dream this afternoon as well, I decided to decipher the meaning of it.

I went to the kitchen and made carrot halwa.

It was so mindblowingly terrific that it floored everybody in the household. Shivers shot down my spine when I understood the context of the whole bloody thing.

And now I am wary of sleeping in the nights.

Aham brahmasmi

2009-01-01T17:36:00.009Z

The audio release of Bala's 'Naan Kadavul' took place today. As I had decided to cut down on TV time, I didn't know this. Not that I would have attended the function had I known. But would have bought the audio CD today for sure if it had hit the stands. The music is by Maestro Illayaraja.

Now it has to wait till tomorrow.

And for me, this would be the first most awaited movie this year.

Jai Bolenath!

Watch the stunning trailer

May you all have a nice and fulfilling time ahead and in the process achieve, if not all, at least a few of your dreams.

Tada Falls - Dec 25th 2008

2008-12-27T18:07:00.018Z

Click on the right most icon at the bottom to view in full screen

These are selective snaps from our trip to Tada falls on December 25th. Shall be updating the same once I get the pictures shot by Ranjith. By the way, he owns a Canon EOS. These pictures were shot using my Canon IXUS 80IS.

Link to Flickr Webpage (Contains Commentary!)

The legend does it, yet again

2008-12-15T16:05:00.004Z

With the passage of years...

I may have stopped fanatically collecting every single picture of yours that appears in the newspapers

I may have stopped repeating your famous boost ad, start to end, word by word without missing a beat

I may have stopped sticking your posters in the walls of my room

I may have stopped raving to my friends about your Sharjah 'Desert Storm' innings

I may have stopped switching off the tv when you get out

But still...

... you were and are and shall be my HERO

We love you Sachin.

Image courtesy: Cricinfo

My Dear Munnu, your book is with me

2008-12-13T09:05:00.012Z

A few minutes back I realized that I own one of the world's oldest original hardbound editions of the cult novel 'The Godfather'. It is 40 years old (come January) and belongs to the first edition printed in Great Britain, way back in 1969 by Bookprint Limited, Crawley, Sussex.

I had picked it up at Flora Fountain, Mumbai, 39 years later.

It has been gifted to one Mr. Munnu, by a person whose signature somewhat seems to correspond to the name Prempralime on February 1st 1970.

Text on the inside page

Bombay

My dear Munnu!

Hearty Congratulations, you are going to Nagpur to join your office. I am giving you this gift, my best wishes go with you. Keep up the good work.

The best of luck to you.

Affectionately yours

Prempralime

1.2.70"

So, if you happen to know this Munnu who went to Nagpur to join office or, still better, Munnu yourself (in which case you might be atleast 65 years old now), please get in touch with me. If the book really matters and means a lot to you I am willing to give it back.

I really don't know if all this makes any sense or if anyone really cares at all. Just doing my part.

Bloggers and twitters, your help solicited in spreading the word. Thanks.

Parkour

2008-12-07T02:21:00.002Z

David Belle - Founder of Parkour

Clubbed to Death + Parkour = Deadly

What is the What

2008-12-01T17:34:00.008Z

'What is the what’ – The autobiography of Vatentino Achak Deng. A novel by Dave Eggers.

As confusing as that might sound, ‘What is the what’ is neither an autobiography nor a novel. But it is a mix of both. It is a work born out of the real life experiences of a Sudanese Boy – Valentino Achak Deng who flees his village – Marial Bai in southern Sudan when it comes under the attack of the deadly Murahaleen. Valentino is all of six years of age when it happens. What then follows is the journey Valentino undertakes along with hundreds of similar ‘Lost Boys’ who travel eastwards towards the country of Ethiopia in the hope of finding peace and safety. And from there on his travel and stay at a refugee camp in Kenya for over a decade before being relocated to the United States of America.

Dave Eggers, the author of the book puts to use his extraordinary gift of story telling and mastery of the art of narration as he concocts a novel approximating the voice of Valentino using the events of his life as a foundation. And doing so he reveals to the readers the horrors and trauma the boy undergoes all throughout his life. The book has been dubbed a novel for it is not a blow by blow account of Valentino’s life but at the same time, as Valentino himself acknowledges in the preface ‘…the world I have known is not so different from the one depicted within these pages’

The story opens with Valentino opening the door of his apartments in Atlanta answering to a knock. And pretty soon we see him being attacked, gagged and bound by an African-American couple who ransack his apartments.

As a half African himself the attacker address Valentino ‘Brother’ and asks him a simple question.

“Don’t you know you shouldn’t open your door to strangers?”

Dave Eggers with Valentino Achak Deng

And lying on the carpet, Valentino starts narrating the story of his life to the Attackers (that is, in his mind). This is one habit of Valentino or rather a technique used by Dave Eggers to narrate the story. We get to see Valentino addressing the story of his life to people he encounters along the span of two days, but the narration actually happens in his mind. So the audience comprise of people from various walks of life including the attackers, an investigating cop, a hospital employee and members of a fitness centre and not to forget the most important person – we the readers.

If that has brought scenes from the movie ‘Forest Gump’ to your mind, well we also have ‘Alaipayuthey’ coming up. Like Mani Ratnam, Dave Eggers juxtaposes the present and past side by side, moving back and forth between Africa and America as the story blazes through.

For starters, this book is a wonderful introduction to the land of Sudan. The cause for the Second Civil war of Sudan that raged from 1983 to 2005 is presented clearly.

Sudan is a land torn by conflict. And conflict does not snare its teeth from outside but rips apart from within. The predominantly Muslim dominated areas of Northern Sudan are a constant threat to the Christian Dinkas of Southern Sudan. The government of Sudan, located in Khartoum in the North is obviously driven by the sentiments of the Arabs. The Muslim law of Sharia is being implemented across the country much to the anger of the southern parts.

And the northern half has much at stake as it is the southern portion that is fertile and suitable for agriculture and cattle grazing and incidentally also sits over a wealth of oil. The northern fraction is fully driven by the government and resistance appears from the south in the form of the SPLA – Sudan People’s Liberation Army.

As expected attacks begin and caught in the cross fire between the government soldiers and the SPLA rebels are millions of civilians, one among them being a little boy of six named Valentino Achak Deng. Separated from his family in the ensuing commotion and utter horror and chaos Valentino flees the village and ends up joining a gang of boys trudging along in the hope of reaching the country of Ethiopia. And reach he does to Ethiopia but not before facing a line-up enemies including the army, lions, hyenas, vultures, landmines, dysentery, and death. Hunger is kept at bay by eating wild fruits, nuts, flesh of just killed elephants, and carcass of dead animals and thirst is quenched by drinking the contents of one’s own waste.

The story tracks Valentino’s life in the refugee camp in Pinyudo where he lives for three years before the squatters are chased and massacred by the Eritreans. They cross a river, and in the process lose a few to the appetite of the hungry crocodiles before reaching yet another refuge camp called Kakuma in Kenya. It is here where Valentino spends a decade of his life before being chosen by the American government for resettlement in the United States.

The novel is a triumph of hope amidst unbelievable misery and the resilience of the human spirit. It is not just the story of Valentino but a representation of a community of people – The lost boys of Sudan. Though the story appears to be extremely bleak filled with misery, the truth is far from that. Dave Eggers manages to inject enough humor (sometimes dark) and brings out a lively narrative. I especially enjoyed the portions of Valentino’s experience with the four sisters in the Pinyudo camp and his love for Tabitha at Kakuma. I could personally relate to many of the feelings his heart possesses at this stage of his life. But the fate that befalls Tabitha in America was unexpected and totally shocking.

And as for the title of the book, it is derived from a story that Deng remembers having heard as a child. God appears before the people of Southern Sudan and asks them to make a choice between two of this offerings. They either get to have any number of cattle they desire and enjoy the benefits it has to offer or choose the What. He never explains what is the what. Being unsure of the unknown the people of southern Sudan choose the cattle.

Looking back, the decision seems to be a wise one at the time when it was made – in a world of peace and harmony. But in the present day scenario where people live amidst terrorism and atrocities and cruelties of unspeakable nature, may be it would have been a good choice to have embraced the unknown. The What.

Dhanuskodi - Roof top ride

2008-11-11T03:21:00.002Z

Michael Crichton - 1942-2008

2008-11-06T16:04:00.007Z

Flipping through today's newspaper I was shocked to see a small news snippet announcing the passing away of the novelist, Michael Crichton.

I used to be a big fan of his during my college days. Those were the days when I had got tired of the only author everyone seemed to be reading. It was Sidney Sheldon, of course. I had read too many of Sidney's novels back to back that it all got muddled inside my head.

I picked up 'Jurassic Park' and got totally involved in the story in spite of having watched the movie years ago. That should say something about the way he writes. I followed up 'Jurassic Park' with 'The Lost World' which again had been translated into celluloid years ago. And I had always wanted to read 'The great train robbery' ever since a friend of mine raved about it. But I never got to do that. May be I should one of these days.

The last book of Michael Crichton that I read was 'Disclosure' before I moved to other genres. It was far removed from the premises he adopts for his stories which usually is great technology gone awfully wrong.

'Disclosure' is the story of sexual harassment but the twist is - the girl harasses the boy. If I am right, an upcoming Tamil movie 'Indira Vizha' is based on the novel and Namita plays the role of the girl.

Michael, thanks for all the hours when you made me forget my boring hostel life and transported me to a world of dinosaurs and secret codes. You were a wonderful novelist.

Rest in Peace.

Aati Kya Khandala?

2008-11-06T14:49:00.007Z

Thought of saying something profound, philosophical, metaphysical & biotechnological about letting go of everything. The pain of clinging to things, the sorrow of attachment, the joy of detachment, the fear of the unknown, the adrenalin rush of a free fall, the peace when the body hits the tarmac, when the tangible cracks and the intangible explodes, liberation of the soul and the attainment of nirvana...

but let truth be told.

Ellam oru vetti scene than. All one advertisement yaa...

:)

Why not?

2008-11-02T16:23:00.010Z

When DVDs of Hindi movies have English subtitles, why not the theaters screening them? What harm would it do? Am I missing out something obvious? Wouldn't the Hindi challenged folks like me welcome it with applause? Would not the masses without the knowledge of English be delighted to watch a Bond Movie with Tamil subtitles? Why not?

And most importantly, what about the people who are deaf? Old people with hearing impairment? They wouldn't understand even if they knew the language. Wouldn't it be of immense value to this segment?

If the rest, who know the language, consider it disturbing on screen and affecting their movie experience then how about allocating shows with subtitles in a separate (maybe smaller) theater in your multiplex on specific days and specific times and letting us know about it on your website?

The subtitles needn't cover the entire width of the screen, then it would get too difficult for the guys in the front. A suitable width that pleases the eyes. And it has to change color in order to stand out and not blend with the current background image.

Or lets take it to a higher level as discussed here. How about some kind of glasses that you distribute at the entrance. People wearing them see the subtitles and the rest don't! Sounds futuristic of course, but quite possible too.

If all this warrants the purchase of an equipment which is going to cost you dearly, may be you can charge us a premium for the service. And if that sounds risky how about conducting a poll online and see how many are welcome to the idea? Distribute pamplets to audience coming to the theatres and ask them to cast their votes in a poll box.

Just wondering. Why not?

P. S: It is already available in the U.K (not the sci-fi glasses but cinemas with subtitling)

:-D :-D :-D

2008-10-23T16:59:00.008Z

Hu Hu Hu Hu HOOO...!!!

No.5 takes the cake!

Fear Factor

2008-10-21T17:01:00.008Z

Hey...who is that guy... standing outside the shop...moustache and all...looks like a police...

Er... I don't know... I haven't seen him before...

Ha..ha..don't worry sir...that is my cousin... ex-military man...

Oh..thank god... we got scared... what to do..we are in that kind of business... it happens every now and then...if your brother along with 3 more guys with similar moustaches goes down the stairs to the basement..all the guys would shut shop and run for cover...hahaha...

...it happens often?

...sometimes... mostly on fridays...that way they can ensure we stay in the jail for 2 days... court holidays you see...

...in spite of the bribes?

...yeah..in spite of everything... if they decide...then we had it...nothing would stop them... till date I have been paying the monthly dues...last month there was an arrest... we had no X-rated content...no new Tamil movies... only some English movies..but the arrest was made...

...oh..the motive?

...happens...new officer on the block... political pressure...all that...usually it is done to increase the rate we pay them on monthly basis...

...once arrested how much does it cost you to come out?

...minimum of 10...

..thousands?

...haha..of course... what did you think?

...Oh...okay...fine...this movie is of good print?

Of course... don't I know about you...Sruthilayam print sir...

...ok...and the other one I asked...

...thats regular one...not for you...shall inform once the stuff arrives...

...ok..see you...

...fine sir...are you leaving now...its raining outside...

...no problem I have my raincoat...

T Nagaril Oru Mazhaikaalam...

2008-10-19T15:29:00.003Z

The daylight was fading and dusk was starting to settle in. All day I had kept myself within the confines of my home and the mere thought of jostling through the crowds of T-Nagar, soaking in the sights and sounds it had to offer felt like the perfect outing.

Once on the street outside my home, I could sense the unborn rains. The skies concurred with my thoughts by letting out a deep and drawn rumble. A mild breeze blew down the streets and the dry leaves lying uncared for rolled along in the same direction.

I was busy dodging vehicles, jumping left and right, avoiding the water puddles from last night’s rain, when the showers that I had anticipated descended on us. I rushed towards the tea-stall in the corner, joined by a few passers-by. The strong smell of bread bajjis and onion pakodas teased our senses. But I felt it was a bad idea to add oily items to a tummy that already seemed bloated from the afternoon’s chicken. To resist any temptation, I leapt out into the rains and headed towards the shelter of Doraiswamy subway.

Standing there, waiting for the rains to let up, I was addressed by an old woman. She wanted to know the way to the textile showroom – Pothys. I told her it was straight down the road and continued to vigorously rumple my hair in an effort to dry it when she asked if I could accompany her to Pothys. I pointed to the large emblem with a giant ‘P’ on it surrounded by a greenish halo and said that was Pothys and all she needed to do was just walk straight. Was there a bus stop in front of it, she wanted to know. I replied that indeed there was a bus stop there. Then it was the bus stop that she wanted to go, and again asked me to take her there. She further added that an auto driver had taken her to some other place and she had walked back enquiring people all the way. I felt sorry for her and asked her to wait for a few minutes till the rains stopped.

A gang of boys, in their teens stood next to me and chatted and laughed boisterously. A single cigarette passed hands as they kept pulling puffs. From the very appearance and their language I knew they were from the lower rungs of the social ladder. A pretty girl walked towards us, umbrella in hand when one of the boys, with an unruly mop of hair blew the smoke right on her face. She walked past me muttering under her breath. I tensed. I landed a left handed blow on the guy’s face and caught a clump of his hair and started assaulting him severely. I kicked one of his friends who came to his aid in the crotch and pulled him over the railing and he toppled over and landed on an auto passing on the road below. The other two boys terrified, shouted obscenities at me from a distance.

‘The rains have stopped, shall we go’ I came out of my reverie. The girl was gone and so were the boys and I had just the old lady for company. Heaving a sigh, I climbed the stairs and she followed me.

Leaving her at the bus-stop, I proceeded further when the small soup stall caught my attention. The rains started again and I lodged myself under the very small canopy that the soup stall guy had put over his head. There was just enough space for the two of us. I ordered a cup of piping hot mushroom soup. I kept watching people as they ran helter-shelter. Many were relieved at the arrival of a bus and they climbed up with all vigor to escape the wrath of the rain gods. A few people seated near the windows saw longingly at the soup stall and a few more gazed at me relishing the soup, unmindful of the stream of water that was pouring on my shoulders from the canopy above. I paid the guy and continued walking. The rains had withered and I was enjoying the drizzle.

If you are a pedestrian who always felt powerless on the roads of Chennai; always waiting for the powerful automobiles to give you a little time to cross the roads; to show you a little respect or at least a little concern which they never did – then T-nagar is the place you got to be to have your revenge. It is the only place in Chennai, where the major traffic on the roads is pedestrians. They are stopped every now and then to let a few vehicles pass by. It is a nice feeling as you saunter down the road, looking at the guy inside the car in the eye and letting him know; down here you are the KING. Even if a guy owns a Ferrari, in T-nagar he is bound to be overtaken even by an old man with a severe limp.

The traffic constables had a tough time controlling the overflowing crowds and adding to the chaos were the people who had taken shelter beneath the newly constructed flyover due to the rains. But I had long decided to be unmindful of the rains and hence continued to walk watching the usual suspects occupying the pavements. There was the flower-seller with her array of jasmines, the guy who had neatly stacked slices of cut-mangoes, pineapples and papayas on his push-cart, the boy who glided his plastic helicopters in the air hopeful of catching the fancy of a tiny tot, shopkeepers who sold ear-rings and studs, the man who embedded your name on metal key-chains for a small charge of twenty rupees.

The list became endless once you took the left turn near Panagal park and headed towards Pondy Bazaar.

To be continued…

Thozhiya...

2008-10-12T04:49:00.036Z

I love this song from 'Kadalil Vizhunthen" . Have been humming/singing it for close to a week now!

For the Tamil challenged - here is my own translation or rather interpretation of the song.

Mind you, it does not carry the exact meaning but it is almost there. I think so.

And for folks who understand Tamil, you better listen to the song. Don't you ever read my interpretation. And now, stop laughing, I told you not to read it.

Are you my friend? Are you my lover? Who are you my dear?

You ask me to sleep on your lap

And you slump on my shoulders for support

And yet when I get closer to you; you push me aside saying I am just your friend

Oh My Girl…

Why do you kill me? Why do you feast on my life?

I melt here like a stick of wax

Oh poetry of mine, will you ever love me?

You stay in my heart and yet touch my eyelids and depart

I die a thousand deaths in my sleep

Oh my dear!

What’s your answer for me?

Are you my friend? Are you my lover? Who are you my dear?

…Super Rap in English, so no translation….

I had prayed for a drop of water, you brought a downpour and made me float

I was crushed under the weight of the crucifix, you lifted me up with all your charms

By giving me happiness you ensured my tears were evaporated

By planting flowers in my desert, you brought heaven within my eyesight

My dreams were in black and I saw darkness even in the mornings

Oh my pristine angel color my life and stand by me

Are you my friend? Are you my lover? Who are you my dear?

chananam chananam chananam chananam chaa na na nam chaa na na na nam

I stood alone and aloof in darkness, and you let in hoards of fireflies to light up my night

I locked myself up in a cage but you gave me wings and made me fly

I was trapped like an island getting lost amidst the monstrous waves

I got trampled like the flower petals en route a man’s funeral path

God never appears on earth, but he sent mothers to take his place

But neither do I have a mother but you replaced her with all your grace!

Are you my friend? Are you my lover? Who are you my dear?

You ask me to sleep on your lap

And you slump on my shoulders for support

And yet when I get closer to you; you push me aside saying I am just your friend

Oh My Girl…

Why do you kill me? Why do you feast on my life?

I melt here like a stick of wax

Oh poetry of mine, will you ever love me?

You stay in my heart and yet touch my eyelids and depart

I die a thousand deaths in my sleep

Oh my dear!

What’s your answer for me?

Are you my friend? Are you my lover? Who are you my dear?

Nakulan (a) Nakul - The movie's hero and kid brother of actress Devayani. This rolly polly guy of 'Boys' fame must have really worked hard to shed all those extra pounds and attain this new look of his. He has now got ripping muscles!

My guess is, he must have lost a lot just by dancing for 'Nakku Mukka'!.

Special Thanks: Tamil Lyrics

My Mini Library...

2008-10-06T15:09:00.006Z

So, there you go. For the first time in the history of the world wide web, presenting to you - MY MINI LIBRARY!

Wokay! Don't be bewildered if the picture looks very odd. Your eyes are perfectly fine. It is just that what you see is not a single photograph, but four photographs shot individually and strung together to replicate the actual setup of my book stand. This was the maximum I could do to get a decent picture with the camera at my disposal. A single long shot covering the entire stand could never reach half this clarity.

Of course I could have done a far better job, but with my patience running out I thought this was good enough.

Bikes, Back-pain, Ajith kumar and some general rant...

2008-10-02T14:52:00.016Z

I have almost decided not to buy the bean bag that I was so much looking forward to buy. A few well-wishers advised me against it saying that it would affect the body posture as it provides no solid support to any part of the body.

I am not afraid of getting a back-pain. I already have one. Thank you.

And the last thing I want to do is to aggravate it. This back pain resulted from too much of bike riding in too little of road. If you did not understand, let me explain. When most people residing in areas that have good road facilities ride on the left of the road, living in T-Nagar, I get to ride what is left off the road. And unfortunately I have got this tendency to over-speed irrespective of the condition of the road and this has pretty much ruined my spinal cord.

I seriously have to control this urge to open up the throttle. No, please don't image I have one of those 150 + speed machines. All I have is an innocuous Hero Honda Splendor. But it is in pretty bad shape and on top of that I drive it pretty rashly. How else do you think I would have managed to ram into an auto at full speed from behind, wheels screeching and all, on Duraisamy subway last week?

I was on my way to collect my mobile phone from the service centre and I had shifted lane and was zipping on the other side of the road leaving centimeters of gap between myself and the oncoming traffic. An auto driver in front of me was doing the same thing but he suddenly braked.

His auto-rickshaw brakes were in good condition and they obeyed. But that doesn't mean mine has to as well, does it?. I almost stood on the brake pedal and fully pressed the front brake and all my bike did was emit an ear-piercing screeching sound. A lady in an auto nearby matched it with her shriek of terror. But the bike showed no traces of stopping. In fact I got a serious doubt if it was the front-brake or the clutch that I had pressed! There was so much of play. But it did stop; after banging into the bumper of the auto and jolting all the 4 occupants including the driver.

Luckily for me, I had missed the tail lamp by a whisker and hence there was no shattering of glass. Add to it, the traffic was at its peak and the driver had no other option than to shout swear words at me and keep moving on. I did try to convince him through sign language that there was no damage but his face had the expression that made me feel he might jump out of the auto any time and bang my helmet in a particular way that it stayed stuck for the rest of my life. So I overtook him and raced again before I narrowly missed banging into yet another auto. Phew!

OK, that was enough ranting about my misadventures in my wonder bike.

And talking of bikes, I remembered something. Today evening had been to crossword store to choose a gift for my colleague. He celebrates his b'day today. Now, like most guys, he too is crazy about 2 things in life. Pretty girls and Super bikes.

After much hesitation and dilemma I bought a toy for the 23-year old! :)

It was a scaled down, dismantled model of the KAWASAKI NINJA ZX-10R in a stunning florescent green. I was hesitant to buy it as it might look very childish. But I was sold when the shop assistant told me two things.

1. Children can't assemble such a complicated bike.

2. Actor Ajith kumar (a crossword member and a well known bike fanatic) purchased one recently.

Though the credibility of the information is extremely debatable it at least helped me make up my mind.

Okay, dinner ready. Seeya.

Calvin Cute...

2008-09-30T17:00:00.013Z

I discovered the joy of Calvin and Hobbes only last year. My two little nieces were home from the U.S of America for a vacation and I was entrusted with the responsibility of keeping them engaged.

All she needed was a jigsaw puzzle game and the little one would forget the world, but the elder one was a book worm and had to be feed book after book. I thought she had enough of Harry Potter, Famous Five and other stuff and decided to introduce her to some comics. There was no great rationale behind it, just thought she need a change and so dragged her to a library in my locality. I choose Calvin & Hobbes for her. As she had a few more chapters to finish in the book she was currently reading, I was flipping thro' the pages of C&H and ended up getting hooked. She literally had to fight it out with me to gain possession of the book! :)

What lovely cartoon characters - Calvin and his stuffed tiger Hobbes. The classic expressions, world-saving profound thoughts, incredible imagination, Miss.Wormwood, innocent utterances, digs on girls... :)) You definitely got to read this treasure! No wonder he has such a fan following.

BILL WATERSON is a genius. Period.

There was a time when I used to hang out at Landmark, eyes fixed on the 3 hardbound complete collection of C&H. I really wanted to own them. But it would have set back my bank balance by Rs.6000!!!

GOSH! Even a 75% off will not do. (My birthday is on 26th May; thought you might want to know...!)

And I never miss to read the strip that appears daily in THE HINDU - Metroplus.

So who is your favorite cartoon character?

Books and Beans...

2008-09-29T17:06:00.007Z

After a tiring half-a-day of cleaning up last Saturday, my room, study table and book-shelf have regained some semblance of orderliness. In fact, only after cleaning up the mess did I realise that I had a pretty decent collection of books. Around 80. And almost 60-65 of them had been picked up at random second hand book shops in Chennai and a few in Mumbai.

Now that my mini library is ready, I have decided to buy myself a very comfy comfy cushy cushy bean bag! Had inquired around and not only identified the shop but also went there and checked them out. The regular size comes at Rs.1500 where as the more larger ones come at Rs.2150. Have not yet made up my mind but definitely will be getting one or the other this weekend. Yippeee!!

Books and Bean bags. Made for each other.

I fell in love with these bags during my visits to the British Council Library. The moment I pick up a book, I never go to the counter to get it issued but hurry to the other end of the library to sink into one of these bags spread all over the place. And on most occasions I would end up trying out various positions (er..sitting positions) instead of reading the book.

Shall post pics of my mini library complete with the bean bag next week! Keep watching this space!

வாரணம் ஆயிரம்

2008-09-26T18:35:00.003Z

Running on a loop ever since I bought the audio CD this evening.

Am loving it. Right from the cover art to the lovely songs. I am loving it all.

Going by the stills available online, this will be a landmark movie for Surya. For sure.

For some reasons, as I said earlier, I love the CD cover art immensely. There is something about it.

அழகான தமிழ் பெயர் கொண்ட இந்த படம் வெற்றி பெற எனது வாழ்த்துக்கள்!

Tomato 'Microwave' Soup

2008-09-16T15:16:00.015Z

It was only when hunting down for a microwave oven to gift my friend on his marriage day did I realize that I din't know a thing about the product though we owned one for over two years now. I knew it was a SAMSUNG but that was it, I knew nothing else. As I and my friend roamed the city, visiting shop after shop, checking out the models and prices, I learned a thing or two about ovens. They come in three different models: Solo, Grill and Convention. The functionalities increase with each model and so does the price with the Convention model being the ultimate.

Try as I may, I could not put a finger on what model I had at my home in Chennai. I had to call up Dad to know that it was a SAMSUNG Grill model that came at 8K. After lots of thought was invested into the features, brand and of course the budget, we selected a LG Grill model for 5K.

And now after returning, I started looking at the oven at home with a new perspective. I checked with my mom and understood that we had two books on the variety of stuff that could be cooked using an oven.

So, to make a start, I made Tomato soup. ALL BY MYSELF!! And it was delicious :)

In case you din't know how to make it, don't worry, I will teach you. Here you go.

Main ingredient:
Courage: To stand near the oven in spite of your imagination going wild and showing pictures of the oven blasting open and your face and hair burning, in your mind's eye.

Other ingredients:
Tomatoes:4-5
Onion:1
Ginger: Small piece
Water: 1/2 Tumbler
Sugar: 1 Teaspoon
Salt: 1/2 Teaspoon
Pepper, Coriander leaves, Bread pieces

The Process:
Chop the tomatoes to small pieces. This is very easy, so you can do it. Next outsource the chopping of onions to an unsuspecting family member cause it is tough compared to tomato chopping. In the meantime go and borrow a piece of ginger from the kindhearted neighbor. Once this is done, mix them all together in a microwave bowl and add 1/2 tumbler water or even little lesser. Close the lid, place it in the oven and set a time-limit of 5 minutes and pray to God. Keep a watchful eye on the contents and if you sense something amiss, let go of your ego and shout out loud and clear for help, else try and maintain a 'I-KNOW-WHAT-I-AM-DOING' smug look on your face.

When the contents start boiling and start pouring out of the lid, panic mildly and switch off the oven and pull out the bowl and wipe the spilled contents before someone sees. Then allow the mix to cool off and then filter the contents. Remove the ginger piece and transfer the contents to a mixie and switch it on. OH! WAIT! You din't check if the lid was tight and if there was too much water in the soup! TOO LATE! Keep your face down and walk as fast as you could to the restroom and wash the soup off your face. Return to kitchen. Setbacks do happen.

Reduce the water, tighten the lid and switch on the mixie. Now filter it again and add the mentioned quantities of sugar, salt and pepper. Stir well and place the contents in the oven without closing the lid, set the time-limit for 3 minutes and pray to God.

If nothing goes wrong till now, your soup is ready and all you have to do is pour them into serving cups, sprinkle coriander leaves, add ghee-fried pieces of bread and serve hot.

Thats it!

No, don't thank me, the pleasure is mine.

Salem

2008-09-12T15:07:00.004Z

Off to my hometown Salem tonight. A buddy of mine (KR) is tying the knot this Sunday. Another friend (PR) tied it yesterday. As it was a weekday couldn't make it to his marriage. Both these guys are my school friends, they now work in the same company and are roommates.

PR's is a love marriage while KR's is an arranged one. Grapevine has it that PR is no longer the guy I knew. He has changed a lot (in a positive way) and all because of the girl. Hmmm...Nalla iruntha seri! PR's marriage invitation was something that was very innovative. The couple had created a website online complete with details about how they met, how love happened and all that mushy stuff. They introduce their family members and they also give brief descriptions of each other. The description about PR was so good that I got a serious doubt if he himself wrote it instead of the girl writing it! Athulae eluthi irunthae matter onumae tally agalae!

As for KR, as I said, it is arranged marriage. When I asked him if he had found the selection of bride part very tough and inquired about how many girls he had rejected in the process, he became very emotional. He said.. "Dude... when my family had the magnanimity to consider me for marriage... and further more went and showed a photo of a girl... I was so overwhelmed with joy that the thought of choosing never crossed my mind. I straight away selected the very first girl they showed me... before they changed their minds about my marriage!"

:-) Yeah, he is a jackass!!

One more school friend who married this February gave me the news that he is gonna be a dad pretty soon! Kind of very funny to think that the silly moron that I knew from eigth standard is a dad to be! :))

So, here I go to Salem. Trains were full and had to book in KPN travels. And the funny part is I have booked a berth for my return. Never have I slept, spread out 180 degrees in a bus before. Should be fun. Seeya.

SA-RO-JA

2008-09-11T16:45:00.011Z

Not long while ago, when directors in kollywood were going crazy hunting for solid story lines, sending assistant directors by the dozen to BURMA BAZAAR and forcing them to watch as many thirutu DVDs of foreign movies as possible in the hope of getting inspired or lifting stories lock, stock and barrel, out came a movie with an odd title and without the slightest trace of a story line, ran to packed houses, turned into a block buster and made history. And now the director is back.

After the huge success of CHENNAI-600028, the expectations were huge for Venkat Prabhu's SAROJA and truth be told, he doesn't disappoint.

Though many people think it is a thriller, first and foremost, the movie is a wonderful entertainer. Here again, there is not much of a story line involved but innovative selection of shots (I loved the scene where the van topples), lighting effects (the movie would put Mani Ratnam to shame... 60% of the movie is shot in darkness!), extremely funny dialogues/situations and a good background score make it a delightful watch. But I felt it kind of dragged needlessly towards the end. Premji and Shiva were brilliant with their comic presence. Premji is making it a habit to recycle famous film dialogues. And when this time it is Superstar's "Sivaji" and Vijay's "ATM" dialogues the theater goes into a frenzy!! The comedy was in fact all pervasive that it kind of kills the thrill aspect. But that should be fine, as long as we get the money's worth of entertainment.

In fact we got more than the money's worth of entertainment... Saw Trisha, Sundar.C and singer Naresh iyer during the interval! They had come for the premiere of 'Journey to the center of the earth'. Black tops, blue jeans, huge ear rings, revealing tatoo(!)...hmmm.. Trisha was gorgeous!!

Ok, coming back to SA-RO-JA...

Sir...summa poi parungae sir...jollya irukum sir! Evalavo padam pathutom..ithae pakae matoma?!

Thank you sir...

2008-09-05T16:01:00.008Z

Try as I may, it was difficult to control the tears that were brimming in my eyes on that fateful day. I had just walked out of the exam hall after sitting for my very first university exam in college life - 1st year engineering mathematics; and I was sure I was going to fail. 100% sure. I got so vexed on seeing the paper that my brain froze and I was not able to even think clearly. After a painful one and a half hours, I decided it was better to accept reality and walk out of the hall. Pradeep who sat in front of me had kept his paper in full view so that I could note down a few answers quickly. No, Pradeep was not brilliant, Pragatheeswaran who sat in front of him was. I had smiled wryly at him and shook my head. And then I walked off.

Engineering mathematics was one subject that killed me. Not once, but twice. Yes, I flunked again in the paper when I re-appeared for the arrear exam. I was devastated. On both the occasions, the staff who taught me were simply at a different plane altogether. When the brilliant boy in the first row answered a question they assumed the entire class had understood and moved on. Half the stuff always flew over my head and I ended up failing not once but twice in the same paper.

I was depressed. I had heard about our seniors who had passed out of college 3 years ago and were still appearing for their first year maths arrear papers. It was no joke. There were many students who belonged to that list. I almost became a walking dead thinking about it. I remember trying to motivate myself by looking at a picture in a newspaper in the hostel reading room. It was on the front page, in color. It was a bomb blast site and bodies were strewn all around. A few people, with blood all over their bodies were sitting on the road, shell shocked. I told myself that having a arrear for the second time was not really such a deadly blow in one's life. There were far worse things happening to people around me. Such self motivating thoughts used to be a norm for me in those days.

It was at this juncture, Sivashankar sir entered the scene. He handled the class for students who had arrears in First year mathematics paper. On the very first day, he made it clear that he was not going to make us intelligent or brilliant in mathematics. All that mattered now was the number 35. It was the marks required to clear the paper. And on this note, he conducted his classes, clearly stating how a question paper would be normally set, what would be the questions that are 100% likely to appear, what chapters to concentrate and which ones to avoid. He never laid emphasis on the final result and instead concentrated on the procedure to try and arrive at one. He explained each and every problem till the last student in the class understood. He drilled the concepts into our heads. Week after week, we attended the evening classes after the regular classes, noting down every single letter he wrote on the black board. It almost became my bible. And for the first time I started feeling confident about clearing the paper.

And I did. I scored a 57 out of 80. I felt elated after finishing the paper that I decided to treat myself with a juice at the canteen. And I saw Sivashankar sir buying his lunch there. Seeing me, he excitedly asked how it went. I just shook his hand and thanked him for whatever he had done. He brushed it aside saying that I must have prepared well!

Thank you sir!

P.S: For every Ishaan Awasthi there must be a Ram Shankar Nikumb...

Happy Teacher's Day!

Weighty issues...

2008-09-01T02:24:00.005Z

When I joined college I used to weigh around 50-51 Kgs. By the time I graduated I was on the 54-55 mark and now after 4 years I am in the 59-60 league. Good going. But the problem is that this weight gain has not been even and as one might guess it is accumulating around the waistline area. This has effectively put close to a dozen of my pants out of use as the hip size expanded from 28" to 30". The worse part is there was a time when 28" pants used to be very loose and now the 30" ones are getting tight!!

But given my height of 176cms, I got to be somewhere around the 75kgs mark which means I am still underweight by 15kgs.

So it is simple now. I got to gain weight while maintaining the shape. This is one thought that has been in my mind for a long time but I never got to do much about it. And I think it is high time that I did. Starting today, I would be pushing myself through some fitness routine, which as of now is 10 brisk rounds in Panagal park and some stretching exercises. That was precisely what I did today and by the end of it had a very drenched T-shirt which is a good sign. The apple milkshake on reaching home is something that I got to continue as well.

So, all that matters now is keeping up the routine. And that is why I made this post! When I wrote about running the marathon the other night and the next morning when my friend told me he was not going to join me, I was too tempted to pull the covers over my head and go back to sleep as well. The only thing that prevented that from happening was that blog post. I either had to pull it out fast before many people read it or accept sheepishly that I was a lazy dud who missed the race and the third option was to just run the race. Glad that I choose the last option.

As IBM says, STOP TALKING START DOING.

Chennai City Run

2008-08-31T00:15:00.006Z

Will be running the MARG - Chennai Marathon - city run in about 7 hours. Hopefully. I have not registered for the event but I hope they let me join. I really hope*. As a warm up to the event, this evening I walked all the way back from British Council Library in Mount Road to my home in Kodambakkam! Hope it helps :)

(* - I still regret that day in my college first year, when I slept because I had not registered for a trekking trip. I also discouraged my roommate from trying to join in at the last minute for I was sure we would be kicked out. He went nevertheless and it turned out that they had welcomed everyone who wanted to join. After that I had to run away from him as he kept harping on what a great time he had that day. He got on my nerves when he narrated what fun it was to flirt with the girls on a cold day atop the mountains in the arms of mother nature.)

Update: Yup, I ran! The race started near Gymkhana club and ended after 7kms near the Sivaji statue in Marina. It was fun and it would have been great had I had company to run. Of course there were 60,000 people to give me company but I meant a friend. The one who had invited me to the race in the first place ditched me in the last minute and continued with his blissful sleep. The race had all the usual stuff that marathons are made of and I was reminded of my (attempt at a) marathon in college. To keep up the tradition, I ran, spraying water packets all over my face and head, wherever there were groups of girls cheering and walked leisurely in the other places! After the race, there was lots of commotion with the certificate distribution. I decided not to get mine. And the scene at the place where they distributed snack packets was almost like a flood relief/ famine relief camp in the remote parts of Africa. And I decided not to get them either. When being pushed and pulled when I was standing near that vehicle I noticed an ambulance speeding past. I didn't know about it then but it turned out to be this very sad incident.

Mumbai

2008-08-30T16:09:00.008Z

In Chennai, you are not reminded of your single status that badly. One trip,down marine drive, head sticking out of the taxi window, sea breeze on your face, watching couples in action as the sun goes down,is all it takes to make you realize what a miserable life you have.

***

Flora fountain is a book lover's paradise. Heaps and heaps of books. New ones. Old ones. Paperback. Hardbound. Well maintained. Battered and dog-eared. Heaps and heaps.
Bought a complete unabridged hardbound collection of John Steinbeck's works. For 250Rs it was a steal. Picked up copies of 'A fine balance' and 'On human bondage' as well.

***

As I walk slowly towards the unmanned railway track, a cloud of dust rises high and mighty a few feet away in the west, partly covering the monstrous vehicle that was causing it. As I watch, it breaks open the level crossing and hurtles across, unmindful of an east bound train plummeting at full throttle. A huge bang as metal meets metal. Gut wrenching shrieks. Bodies shoot out through the window, travel in the air and land everywhere. Smoke, fire, blood, flesh. I look up. A body. A man. And he lands on me. I wail and fall on the tracks, crushed by his weight. Only his torso remains. The legs are gone. I cringe and my skin crawls as he breathes his last breath right into my ear. I push the body down and feel the stickiness of his blood on my back. I crawl on the tracks and in the distance, a bright sparkle. A diamond ring. I move towards it and try to pick it up and stop on seeing the torn piece of an ear underneath it. A little child walks towards me; mischievous smile pasted on her face. I smile back and then I see she is dragging something. A human head. She smiles at me and pulls it faster. Blood leaves a trail behind.

"Sir! Coffee!" said the caretaker and i woke up.

***

Subramaniapuram

2008-08-25T16:02:00.010Z

After hearing a lot of mixed reviews about the movie, I finally saw it over the weekend. It was wonderful. I liked it a lot and would say it is a great debut by the director M. Sasikumar (who also plays a major role in the film)

I had absolutely no idea about the storyline except that it was set in the 80s in a village in Madurai. And this made it all the more exciting for it contains a couple of unexpected twists towards the end that emerge out of the blue and catches you unawares. The director has gone on to prove that with an interesting storyline supported by strong performances from not-so-well-known actors and a good music score, a movie can grab your attention and entice you.

The entire theme of the movie boils down to one single word. Betrayal.

Looks like Sasikumar was fascinated by Brad Pitt's style of leaping in the air, digging a dagger into the opponents neck and landing and walking away in the movie 'Troy'! A similar scene appears in 'Subramaniapuram' and the director himself performs the act. And if you watched the trailer above and was wondering who the director is, he is the guy wearing shades and chasing the heroine, knife in hand. But this sequence never appears in the movie! :)

There is extreme bloodshed and violence as the movie draws towards the climax. So if you can't stomach scenes like the one in which a man is pulled into a running auto and has his head slowly hacked off his body with a small knife, you better don't go anywhere near even to the poster of the movie! I recommend you watch ' Jaane Tu Ya Jaane Na'. A movie, half an hour into which I felt so irritated that I turned it off and went to sleep. But that was me. You might love it.

Mindset

2008-08-17T08:46:00.010Z

Song: Taxi...Taxi...
Film: Sakarakatti
Music: Mozart of Madras

First I read about this song in 'The Hindu - Metroplus' then listened to it in a car on my way back to Chennai from Kancheepuram. And then went to 'Music World' in Pondy Bazaar and bought the CD. I picked it up immediately on entering the shop and then was leisurely browsing through the other sections. I suddenly had an urge to buy an international English album. I am no great fan of English songs or anything, but I thought that listening to Tamil songs alone was not good enough.(Especially when you have a Sony 5.1 Music system to listen). I wanted to feel sophisticated. Upmarket. Class. Whatever. But I had no clue as to what to purchase. All English albums were priced above 400Rs whereas 'Sakarakatti' had cost me a mere 99Rs. This made the urge to buy one of them, even stronger. Upmarket.Sophisticated. Class.

Queen. MLTR. Safri Duo. Bob Dylan. Enigma. Pink Floyd. Deep Purple. Eminem. Yanni. Linkin Park......

It was then that an elderly couple entered the shop. They were foreigners but I could not make out what language they were speaking. I think it was Dutch. Or German. Or something else.

The lady went straight to the section where they had listed Tamil albums in popularity-wise order and pulled out a copy of 'Sakarakatti' from the first slot where it was perched. She pointed to the picture of A.R. Rahman and said something to her attentive husband in an excited manner. They paid the bill and left.

I let out a deep breath and left after paying for 'Sakarakati'.

All Quiet on the Western Front

2008-07-27T17:48:00.003Z

‘All quiet on the western front’ is a war novel, originally written in German by Erich Maria Remarque and translated to English by Brian Murdoch. It tells the story of a group of German high school boys who are urged to join the army by their teacher to defend their country during the First World War. Thrust into the army, initially the soldiers work mostly in the trenches. The days turn into months and into years, the war rages on and their service is needed at the front. It is here that they start seeing life in a new perspective. Gruesome deaths of their mates become a regular feature as they themselves flee the clutches of death in the form of flying shrapnel and hidden land mines. And soldiers lucky to escape are mostly crippled for life. The stress of the war is too much to bear and many a soldier with a weak mind thrashes around in the trenches like a caged bird before literally going insane.

It is under these life threatening circumstances that they realize the futility of a war. The illusion of war being a noble deed, fought by men of courage and valor starts fading fast and is replaced by strong skepticism and frustration. They start questioning their very presence in the deadly zone where a war rages on because some people, somewhere high up in the ranks of the government decided that a war has to be fought. They realize that even if the war ended they do not know what to do with the rest of their lives. They are all of twenty years and had never really started on anything in life before being sucked into the war. What was the whole purpose of education if nothing of what they had learned was going to make sure they saw the sun rise the next morning.

The novel, though short, describes the ill-effects of war in a hard to forget, matter of fact manner. The details get extremely gory at many places. There are many portions that are very moving, in particular, the scene were the principal character lies hiding in a crater left by a shelling the previous night, fearing being captured by the enemy soldiers who are running in the ground above his head. Though he has no intentions of killing anybody, sheer fright and shock makes him dig his dagger into the chest of a soldier who accidentally falls into the crater. And he spends the rest of the night breaking down and sobbing and talking and making promises of taking care of the family of the soldier who’s live is being slowly sucked out of his body. He talks to the corpse and reaches for his pocket and tries to memorize the names of the family members, fully aware that he would forget all about the dead man and his family the next morning and the days to come where he would be busy protecting his own life.

The novel, on the whole gave a new dimension to the life of a soldier. It made me watch ‘Saving Private Ryan’ once again after watching it years before. Though the message in the book and the movie are extremely different, they did coincide in the places where the soldiers try to recollect happy memories of the bygone days just to keep themselves from going insane and temporarily forget their fears. They had to latch on to something or the other that was pleasant, to keep themselves sailing in the troubled murky waters of the war.

The only tough part was remembering the German names of the characters, but after a point it really did not matter, for who was saying was never more important than what he was saying.

I wish I wrote this a month or so back when I actually finished the book. I feel I have left out a lot that I would have wished to capture then. I recently finished my second Rohinton Mistry novel, ‘Family Matters’ after reading his ‘A fine balance’. So I better write about it shortly!

Presently reading ‘Such a long journey’ by the same author.

Tamally Maak - The Original

2008-07-13T08:16:00.035Z

When you are running for cover, jostling through the crowd, jumping over potholes as the rain lashes down and a song floating through the street from the speakers of a music shop makes you slow down and listen... it has to be the original.

Stolen (Inspired?!) Versions: (Ctrl + Click to open in separate tabs or windows)
Anu Malik - Indian
Amir Jamal - Pakistani
Outlandish - English
Ivana - Bulgarian
Avram Russo - Russian
Farshid Amin - Iranian
Erkan - Turkish
Gazmend Rama - Albanian

Phew! That was quite a research! I am now sick of that guitar note :-D

I happened to hear 'Tamally Maak' when I was dashing through Richie Street, looking for a shelter before I got drenched. The song stuck to my mind and I kept humming it all the way back home. I knew for sure that the famous Hindi song would have been lifted from this song but never expected the rest!! Looks like the whole world is smitten by Amr Diab. Hope someone doesn't tell me that he hooked if from elsewhere :)

And if you wanted to know what Amr Diab was singing - Here you go.

Let me know if you come across any other version, for all we know there might be even a Tamil version composed by 'Thenisai Thendral' Deva. Something like...

Eh pula Rasathi...
Una pakamae...
Rathiri poora sema vaanthi..ii..ii..
Eh pula Rasathi...
Nee ilamae...
Manusu poora un thangachi Vijay Shanthi..ii..ii..

Chorus:
Ah..Rasathiya Shanthiya Rasathiya...
Ah...Shanthiya Rasathiya Vijay Shanthia...
Ungae appanuku vaangi tharaen puthu Nokia...
Ungalae enaku katti vekkae antha nai readyaaa.....

Tamally Maak ...

;-)

A fine balance - a novel by Rohinton Mistry

2008-06-18T17:02:00.006Z

Warning: Spoilers ahead.

In spite of all the misery and hopelessness that reek through the pages of this book, I found Rohinton Mistry's 'A fine balance' an inspiring read. It all depends on how you view it. Either you emerge out of the painful fictional world feeling depressed and defeated or feel elated and appreciate the extremely good life you have comparing to the hell those characters had to go through. The choice is yours.

Weaved expertly using beautiful prose, and set in the bleak years of the Emergency in India, the novel moves back and forth, pulling the reader deeper and deeper into the intricacies of the lives of Dina Dalal, Ishvar Darji, Omprakash Darji and Maneck Kohlah. A widow fighting it alone, refusing to be dominated and subdued neither by her brother nor by life’s deadly blows, working for a garment factory, hiring two tailors and letting in a boarder in her flat to make ends meet; An uncle and his nephew, cobblers by caste and tailors by profession, fleeing from the clutches of the caste-crazy Thakur, in search of a decent life in the city by the sea ; a college student, uprooted against his wishes from his pleasant abode in the hilly terrains, scarred by the rottenness of his college hostel and forced to share a flat with two tailors and a lady who was his mother’s friend in her school days.

The lives of these four principal characters that start to share a flat and end up sharing a lot is narrated in a gut-wrenching manner. And equally intriguing sub-plots involving unforgettable characters are developed along the course until the author pulls them all together and stitches a grand narrative of epic proportions. But somewhere towards the end, the stitches that held the four lives together starts coming loose. And did they fall apart?

A good book is one that not only entertains but also enriches. This book fits the bill. It shows that between dawn and dusk, day and night, life is all about a fine balance between hope and despair. But sometimes the scales do shift unfairly towards one-side and some lives are destined to be shattered.

I think at the end of it all, Dina Dalal had it easy. The fates of the other three leave you with a sore taste in your mouth. Even before you could recover, the tailors seem to have taken to their new life and proceed to live on, but Maneck Kohlah was a real shocker. I simply could not understand. He was the only character among the four who I could relate myself to an extent. I felt like slapping some sense into him before he makes the decision. Why on earth, with a widowed mother to support did he choose the path? It was all too sudden. But then, some lives are destined to be shattered.

…What sense did the world make? Where was God, the Bloody Fool? Did he have no notion of fair and unfair? Couldn’t He read a simple balance sheet? He would have been sacked long ago if He was managing a corporation, the things He allowed to happen… Pg.728, A fine balance – Rohinton Mistry

P.s: With great suspicion I look upon Graham Swift's 'Last orders' sitting pretty on my stack of books. How good can a book be, to emerge as the booker prize winner of the year 1996, beating a list of contenders including... yes, you guessed it.

Dasavatharam - An average fare

2008-06-15T10:09:00.008Z

Cast: Kamal Hassan, Asin, Mallika Sherawat, Jayaprada, Napolean
Music: Himesh Reshammiya, Devi Sri Prasad
Director: K. S. Ravikumar
Storyline: A biological weapon of mass destruction gets accidentally transported from the U.S to India and mayhem ensues.
Last word: An average film from the master actor

Kamal Hassan in one of his interviews said that his mentor Ananthu would always say ‘keep it simple.’ I really wish the actor had followed the advice in his latest offering – Dasavatharam.

It is one thing to possess the talent to enact ten different characters in a movie and it is quite another to confidently script a story and screenplay for fitting them in, without appearing forced. It is in the latter department that Kamal Hassan falters.

Let me see if we can draw a comparison with ‘Michael Madana Kama Rajan’ where the veteran had essayed the characters of four brothers separated at birth. One of the biggest assets of that movie was the sheer acting prowess of Kamal Hassan who fleshed out every single character and distinguished them solely based on the mannerisms and dialogue delivery without wasting any time and money on special makeup. Even when the innocent Brahmin - Kamaeshwaran was forced to impersonate the rich and suave Madhan, he distinguished the characters like a mole and mountain in spite of the characters looking identical. A simple grin with the display of the menacing rotten teeth was all that was required for the audience to realize that it was Michael and not any of the other three characters and that should say lot about characterization.

Of course one may argue that in MMKR it was a simple story told within the limits of the budget whereas in Dasavatharam the canvas is huge, the budget is mammoth and the ten characters are scattered around the world and some even belong to different nationalities. And that is exactly where the problem lies. The story. It is the chief culprit which has been mindlessly created for the sole purpose of fitting in the avathars. Wouldn’t we be thrilled had they come out with a simple and solid story without any gimmicks where all that Kamal had to do was enact six more roles in addition to MMKR. For a person of his caliber it should have been a cake walk.

Have a look at the diversity in the line up of characters. A 12th century priest, an Ex-CIA agent, the American president, A 8 foot tall Muslim, a Dalit, a RAW official from Andhra Pradesh, a 90-year old woman, a Scientist, A Japanese and a Punjabi singer. To understand Kamal Hassan’s obsession with make-up, consider this. The Muslim - Kalifullah Khan and the Dalit - Vincent Poovaragan never warrant those scary makeups in the first place. A natural looking Kamal would have sufficed. The former resembles a character out of an animation movie like Shrek and the latter, a caricature that brings to mind the horrible Politician role that Ajith enacted in Citizen.

And in the characters that really warrant a makeup, The American President - George Bush, the ex-CIA agent -Christian Fletzer, the Japanese guy - Shinghen Narahasi, the wonderful actor gets lost behind those thick layers leaving us gaping at bizarre individuals. Okay, I think as Christian Fletzer he was pretty convincing and background score for that character was quite catchy.

Now that leaves us with the roles where he is natural. As Rangaraja Nambi – the 12th century priest, the actor, with his massive physique and body language brings alive the staunch Vaishnavite who refuses to hail the name of Lord Shiva and thereby gets thrown into the ocean, shackled to a huge statue of the Lord Vishnu. There was a collective gasp in the theatre as Rangaraja Nambi was hooked and hoisted over the assembled crowds. I seriously wished they could have maintained this suspension of disbelief through out the film. As Balram Nayudu, the investigating officer from Andhra Pradesh with a Telugu ascent, Kamal was entertaining and the play with words was hilarious. The character of Krishnaveni Paati, the 90 year old woman was a commendable performance. It was a touch unsettling to see a fragile paati with muscular forearms but nevertheless Kamal pulls it off with ease. There is nothing much to write about Avathar Singh – the Punjabi singer and Govind Ramasamy – the scientist. In fact Govind needs a standing ovation for putting up with that irritating character Andal portrayed by Asin. I really really wished, she died in one of those crash scenes, came in the line of fire or got drowned in the Tsunami but unfortunately she stayed live and kicking till the end and thereby draining the life out of the audience.

The movie opens with the song sung by Hariharan and it is the only song that stays in your mind after the movie ends. The acting, the sweeping camera angles, the grand sequences, the wonderful music and the overall mood and situation where it is placed makes it impressive and memorable.

I in fact enjoyed the movie till the intermission after which it got tiring that I awaited restlessly for it to end. It is all well to say that one has to appreciate the effort taken by the actor for the movie, but do you really think your teacher would award you marks for a bad answer sheet even if you had written it with your blood after you ran out of ink? Well, there you have it.

When I re-read this review of mine, I think it started off well, had some good lines, then digressed here and there before I had to pull it to a stop. Must be the Dasavatharam effect.

hey!

2008-05-26T01:36:00.000Z

...and a quarter of a century goes by.

requiem for a dream

2008-05-11T06:57:00.013Z

has to be one of the most depressing (and creatively shot) movies i have ever seen.

loneliness. dreams. drugs. pills. sex. injections. hallucinations. money.

four lives - catalyzed by addiction - falling freely into the depths of despair.

scary yet riveting.

watch it. especially if you are an addict.

The Victimizer - Case #1

2008-05-05T16:47:00.006Z

3 years ago...

Though his parents chose to name him ‘Senthil Kumar’ decades back, no one bothered to remember the name. ‘Bonny’ was convenient and more meaningful any day. At 43kg, he had the ignominy of being rejected by a corporate under ‘under-weight’ category before being recalled for his academic credentials. If weight played a cruel joke on him, so did his height. He rose just 5’ 2” above ground.

It had been a pretty long Saturday and I was feeling restless at office. The mat and pillow at home beckoned for a siesta. But I had to wait for another 20 odd minutes for my room-mate to call it a day. My fingers drummed vigorously on the wooden desk as my mind raced for an activity to fill the gap.

The phone caught my eye.
Bonny answered the call.

“Hello…”
“Mr. Senthil Kumar?”
“Yeah”
“Good Afternoon Sir, I am Nithin from Aircel Office”
“Yeah. Tell me”
“Sir, we understand that you have outstanding amount Rs.835 to be paid. This is just a reminder from our side requesting you to pay the amount immediately”
“WHAT?”
“Sir, the mobile bill for last month is yet to be paid and it is well past the due date. If left unpaid, your connection would be terminated Sir”
“BUT…BUT..HEY…How could this be possible?”
“I beg your pardon, Sir”
“I have a prepaid connection”
“Oh! I am sorry sir. There seems to be some miscommunication in the information I got. Let me check my records”

The sound of pages being turned furiously reaches ‘Bonny’ as I randomly flip through my notebook.

“Sir, Am I speaking to Mr. N. Senthil Kumar?”
“Yeah”
“Working in Infotech”
“Yeah..but”
“Residing in No: 7/30, Home Finders Estate, Ramapuram, Chennai-89”
“HEY! YEAH! RIGHT! BUT… hey..I mean..hey.. how can it be possible yaar? I have prepaid connection. Only yesterday I recharged it for 200 Rs.”
“EXCUSE ME SIR! I think you better stop playing the fool. I have my records checked. I know that I am talking to the right person. Please do not try to dupe our company by not paying the bill…”
“No..please…”
“This is very serious Sir. I would like to inform you that if taken up with the police, this could lead to a very serious case…”
“NO! WAIT. PLEASE LISTEN TO ME….”

The breathing was heavy from the other side.

“Sir I have been patiently explaining to you assuming that it was a case of forgetfulness, which I believe you would now agree upon and pay the bill without causing any further trouble.”
“But...but…”
“WHERE ARE YOU NOW SIR?! I think I should send over my person to talk to you regarding this.”
“No. Please…”

A brief pause, and then…

“I am out of station. I will be returning to Chennai only after 3 days”
...and more breathing

“Hey ! Bonny! Chill it. Are you home or still slogging it out in office” I asked him in Tamil.
“WHAT?”
“I asked you if you are home or still in office”
“Who is this?”
“Hari da”

The minute that followed was pregnant with silence...

…and then the phone went “beep..beep..beep”

I hung up the phone and got up as my room-mate arrived apologizing for making me wait.

“No problem da. It was fun waiting”

Athan Vantenle...Podu Machi !!!

2008-04-27T09:40:00.009Z

When you are a self-confessed freak of 'Dapangkuthu' dancing, there can be nothing as kick-ass as watching the uber-cool Indian Captain Dhoni do it. This short and smashing ad for Sonata watches has Dhoni 'Kuthifying' for the "Enga Area Ule Varathe..." song. Just could not control laughing when Dhoni says "Athan Vantenle... Podu Machi!!!" Hahahahahahaha... too good, too good man. And of course the end punch with that gun shot effect...wow..wow..wow...!!

For High Quality Version: Double click on the video, go directly to the youtube site, click on the 'watch in high quality' link below 'views'.

Movies. Again!

2008-04-15T17:57:00.008Z

If you haven't seen a Persian movie called 'Children of Heaven', kindly do so. Rent it, borrow it, download it, buy it or simply steal it! A beautiful film that pulls and tugs at the strings of your heart. Though I had seen the movie in the DVD shop quite a few times I had never purchased it and strangely, for some reasons, I had always thought it was a movie about World War 2. But thanks to my colleague Sriram who insisted that it was a wonderful movie and lent me his copy, I watched it today. Simply loved it.

It brought back memories from my own school days. Especially using the chalk piece to clean my dirty canvas shoes and making it appear brighter on occasions when I had forgotten to polish them!

Apart from 'Children of Heaven', the other films that I had watched recently are 'Reservoir Dogs' and 'City of God'. In fact, I was so fascinated by 'City of God' that I had started a post on it, but it is still lying in the draft stage!

Ironically, both 'Children of Heaven' and 'City of God' deal with the lives of children, but they are at two extremes. While the former celebrates the innocence of childhood and the beautiful relationship between a brother and sister the latter focuses on the criminal and despicable ways of children in the city of Rio de Janerio in the Brazil of 1960's.

A hard hitting movie, which is difficult to watch but hard to look away from. How many movies have you seen in which a kid, forced by teenaged hoodlums, shoots and kills one of his friends while the other panic stricken weeping kid is shot on his foot and made to run by the hoodlums? The shocking part is that the movie is entirely based on real life incidents.

Reservoir dogs by Quentin Tarantino in another classic. The movie was shamelessly copied as 'Kaante' in Bollywood. Only guys like Tarantino can make a movie that, for almost 90% is shot inside a warehouse, but still keep the audience glued to the proceedings.

Okay. That's it for now.

Do watch 'Children of Heaven'.

Happy watching!

The treatment

2008-04-13T16:29:00.005Z

The six years that I spent in Cluny Matriculation School, from L.K.G to fourth were uneventful when it came to being caned by the teacher. Except for the watch man at the gate, the school had no male staff on their roles. And ladies, by nature are never as brutal as the men when it comes to administering punishment. Of course there would always be an odd one out. But when your dad is the Head of the Department in a Government Arts College, you can be useful in acting as a go-between for fetching reference books from the college library free of cost. So that takes care of escaping the wrath of even the worst teachers around.

But then one day, the school management decided that it had had enough with the boys. From the next year, Cluny was to become a full fledged girl’s school. I was transferred to Holy Cross Boys Matriculation School and therein lay my cup of woes. To start with, most of the staff was psychopaths in the guise of teachers. They took sadistic pleasure in harassing the students.

Mr. Stalin. I remember the way the Tamil teacher twisted the ear of one of my classmates in fifth standard. The boy went “Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!!” and this displeased Mr. Stalin to a great extent. He went on to lecture that “Ah” was the first letter in the Tamil alphabet and “Aaaahh” came next. So he insisted that the boy had committed a grave mistake by uttering the latter first without duly acknowledging the former. And that too in front of him, the Tamil teacher. He then kept twisting the boy’s ear like the knob on a gas stove until he came out with a mild “Ah” in spite of the shooting pain.

Mr. Devasagayam. He had sparse hair on his head and tried to compensate for it with an overflowing mustache. He had a bulky figure and the ground shook when he moved about. For a man of his stature, it was rather surprising that he never used his arms or cane to punish the wrong doer. All he employed was a fingernail that he grew exclusively for the purpose. Perched on his right hand thumb, it was manicured to a perfect shape that would put a girl to shame. The notorious nail had worked on most ears and mine was one among them.

Mr. Charles. He was my English teacher in fifth standard. He was well known for his no-nonsense approach when it came to studies. But I had always managed to be in the good books of the English staff both in school and college. If you found me animated and eagerly shouting something in class you could be sure that it was the English hour. Whether it was the correct or wrong answer, I was always involved in the proceedings. And Mr. Charles had a good opinion about me when he first taught me English. But as fate would have it, he handled History the next year.

Remembering the strange names of kings, the wars they fought, the dates they came upon earth and the days they departed, the wives they married, the children they had etc., was never easy for me. I flunked in my first history exam in sixth standard. Mr. Charles was shocked to say the least. I vividly remember the day he called out my name to hand over my History paper. I slowly walked up to him with a lump in my throat. He looked at the marks and then at me. He drew a deep breath. I, once the meritorious student who showed exemplary interest in studies now stood in front of him as a wastrel who had failed in a paper. I did not have the courage to say that I still topped the class in English. Before I could look up at him, his right hand had already dealt a severe resounding slap that sent me staggering a few steps back. He pulled and slapped me a few more times. I walked back frozen with shame. During the recess, I sat on the fallen tree near the playground, replaying the incident over and over in my mind. I never cared about failing in the exam, the fact that I was slapped by my favorite ex-English teacher was too much to handle. I broke down into tears.

Mr.Magimaidas. He was the one among the crazy trio of P.T staff in my seventh standard. The other one went by the name Paul and had great command over the English language. Paul would warn the students “Look at the Sun. If you misbehave I put knell down on the hot ground”. You understood what he actually meant don’t you?! I don’t remember the name of the third one in the crazy trio gang.

It was one of those P.T classes and a march-past session was on. LEFT RIGHT LEFT. LEFT RIGHT LEFT went the class leader standing in the front. We were marching on the spot. I was positioned somewhere in the middle of the whole arrangement safely tucked away from the prying eyes of the crazy trio. With the least care in the world I was doing my own style of march-past when I had an uneasy sensation. I looked all around when I caught Mr. Das’s fixed stare. He was standing 3-4 columns away from me, watching with the intensity of a tiger getting ready for the kill. I almost urinated.

LEFT RIGHT LEFT. LEFT RIGHT LEFT went the instruction but my feet refused to respond as my mind forgot which was left and which was right.

Mr. Das slowly walked, passing through the columns of marching boys, eyes fixed on me. By this time, I had broken into cold sweat and resembled a teenaged village girl with her skirt pulled up over her knees stamping on a mass of damp cow dung. His face came so close to mine that his stale breath was over my face. He looked down on my feet and I stopped abruptly.

The hall went spinning and everything went out of focus. The slap administered by Mr. Charles was a small pinch in comparison. Years later, in college, when I heard from one of my school friends that Mr. Das had passed away a few years back, I was not exactly sad.

Mr. Loganathan. Did you guys have a subject called L.O.E in your school? We had. It stood for Life Oriented Education. Extremely useful information about life, like the importance of a first aid box was taught in L.O.E. But some times we got to see movies in the TV hall. There used to be a small hole in the plywood wall through which Mr. Loganathan passed his hand from the adjourning hall to operate the TV. His hand would appear to switch on the TV and vanished only to reappear to switch it off at the end of the period. The movie would continue the next week. I saw Jurrassic Park in this TV room.

Mr. Loganathan never used his hand and neither did he use a wooden scale or a steel rule. He was unique in meting out justice. He carried a piece of aluminum rod that had once been part of a TV antenna. When we failed to complete our assignments, we would be called forward and asked to stretch our arms. He never liked it when we stretched them palm upwards. He turned them over with the antenna rod and struck hard on the knuckles till they showed a tinge of red. One more treatment of his was to make a student sit on a chair.

Sitting on a chair with your arms stretched forward would seem a funny way to punish but it was not exactly funny, for the chair in this case was an imaginary one. The muscles on the bottom of the thigh would stretch and cry out in agony. Sweat gathered thick and fast and formed a mark on the shirt under the armpits. Eye sight blurred with fatigue. And when you rose slightly from that position to ease yourself, the antennae rod was set into action.

I was lucky to be back again in a school that had no male staff on their roles for my further education. Sri Sarada Bala Mandhir, like Cluny had only women teachers. Of course there were the odd ones who liked to use the cane.

But when you have already faced psychopaths you really had to control your laughter when P.T teachers like Ms. Veni struck you on the palm with a wafer thin stick for not cutting your nails!

Telugu Cinema

2008-04-05T10:02:00.005Z

Yeah. I have been watching quiet a few Telugu movies these days. The list so far has been Bommarilu, Anand, Godavari and Happy Days. And I should thank my friends for recommending them! I liked them all.

And today after watching Happy Days, did a google on the movie and ended up reading an interview by the director Sekhar Kammula(a Mechanical Engineer :)) and to my surprise of surprises realized that he was the director of 'Anand' and 'Godavari' too!! No wonder I enjoyed all three. Especially Godavari. Neat film, good story and great scenery. And looks like Shekar is smitten by Kamalini Mukherji! She appears in all three movies; protagonist in 'Anand' and 'Godavari' and a guest appearance in 'Happy days'.

Bommarilu was good too. Once again a good film with a neat storyline. The casting was perfect. Genelia was an apt choice for the cute heroine. I always prefer cute over beautiful!

But it is really pathetic and shameful when you have to rely on subtitles for watching movies in your mother tongue :(((

The original Andhra Telugu is entirely different from the so-called Telugu that I speak at home. The original is so beautiful and musical. I tried speaking that way to my mum and both of us burst out laughing!

I made the mistake of picking up Mahesh Babu's 'Athadu'. I should have known better. He is an actor equivalent to the likes of 'Ilaya' Thalapathi Vijay here. Ten minutes into the movie I lost all interest and walked off. But it is interesting to note that Sekhar's next movie 'Varadu' has Mahesh Babu in the lead!! I hope no compromises take place on the director's part.

But Sekhar, in which college do girls as beautiful as Tamana study Mechanical Engineering man??!!

Wish I had done mine in one such college.

;)

P.S: Would be glad if readers could recommend some movies in Telugu as I don't know much about them. You might have guessed my taste I suppose. Thanks.

Random thoughts about Marriage

2008-03-30T10:05:00.010Z

Warning: A very random flow of thought about marriages with no clear structure to it. Have written whatever came to my mind at this point of time. Do bear with me.

Off late, a spate of marriages or talks about marriage has been happening around me. Quite a few of my friends (from both school and college) have tied the knot or are in the preparatory stages for it. I always thought only girls married at this age but my friends seem to be keen on proving me wrong.

I somehow seem to notice a strange pattern in these marriages though. Most of the marriages in my group of college friends are love marriages while buddies from school seem to opt for the traditional arranged marriages. I could, to an extent understand the reason for the high number of love marriages. We guys are from the Department of Mechanical Engineering and as you might have guessed we were starved of the company of girls for three whole years.

It is only human nature to go in search of things whose pleasure of possession you are denied. No wonder you could find most of my classmates polishing their skills in the art of flirting with girls from the other departments in whatever little recess of time that they could find (much to the irritation of the guys from those departments). And the girls too seemed to have a liking for our guys and responded well. Movies like “Minnalae” boosted the image of the “Tough-macho-boy-with-heart-of-gold” that was associated with Mechanical guys.

So, most of the pairs that had formed during those stages in college have succeeded in taking their relationship to the next level. And like in the movies all these marriages have had a number of hurdles in the form of caste, religion, status and other general things that you would normally associate with the ilk. There have been instances of a girl from a ‘higher’ caste falling for the boy who belonged to the ‘lower’ rung of the social ladder. Girls have been put under house arrest. Some have threatened to commit suicide and the parents have been forced to relent. Some have been forced to ditch the guy for in their cases it is the parent who has threatened to take the fatal step.

When life has not been that rosy for couples who belonged to the same religion but different castes, one can imagine the plight of the pairs who belong to different religions. Faiths clash. Members of each religion are convinced of their superiority over the other. Each believes that theirs is the only ‘True God’ and a person who commits the ‘sin’ of inter-religious marriage is bound to end up in ‘Hell’. Questions are raised as to which among the pair would opt for the conversion of religion for the marriage to take place. One is bound to break all shackles with ones religion and enter into the new realm. Mutual sharing of beliefs in not practical we are told.

I fail to understand.

The purpose of marriage, as I see, is to spend your life with someone who you are comfortable with. Love marriages in that regard, gives the person an idea of how compatible the other person is for it to work. When two ‘mature’ people (in mind not age) meet and take the time to understand the ‘pros’ and ‘cons’ of each other and after spending considerable amount of time, feel that they would definitely hit it off then why don’t you just let them live their lives? Why is the society hell bent on introducing ‘n’ number of factors to complicate a simple equation?

All complexities and confusions arise due to the deep rooted ‘caste’ system prevalent in the society. Pure exploitation. Back in the old days, a person was believed to belong to a caste, based on the work he did and the qualities he possessed. One did not become a ‘Brahmin’ by being born into a ‘Brahmin’ family or by wearing a white thread across the torso. One had to have the required knowledge, wisdom, insight, devoutness and other similar qualities to be termed a ‘Brahmin’. The ‘Brahmins’ were placed in the highest regard for they were the ones who advised the kings about ruling the kingdom. The kings belonged to the ‘Kshatriya’ caste and were known by their traits viz. courage, valor, justice etc. Similarly the ‘Vaishyas’ and the ‘Sudras’ had their own defining traits.

But with the passage of centuries, the collective terms given to the qualities possessed have become more prominent than the qualities in themselves. A guy from the so called ‘lower’ caste is still treated as a less worthy person with no considerations of the knowledge or other worthy qualities he has.

No wonder, Richards who had come down to India from The Netherlands, for an internship in our organization found the situation totally baffling. He first of all could not understand the concept of parents looking for suitable girls/boys for their children; forget about explaining him the intricacies involved in the caste system. I could not help burst out laughing when he asked me about how we in India look upon same sex marriages!

Just think of it, in India we have enough obstacles for marriages that happen between a boy and a girl i.e., natural marriages. I could not think about the response to the unnatural act of same sex marriages. Richards seemed to understand when I said that we still have a long way to come to terms with normal marriages and it would be at least a century when those unnatural marriages make an impact here.

Coming back to where I started, my friends nevertheless are at least fighting to cross these hurdles of caste and religion and are getting married which is a wonderful thing. Personally I feel these love marriages are a lot more fun and lively than the arranged ones. I could almost feel the excitement when one of my friends told me over the course of his one-hour phone conversation of how he takes the flight to Bangalore every now and then to see his sweetheart and the thrills he has in maintaining the situation without raising the suspicion of family members. I would say he is living his life!

And now, when people back home started this topic about my marriage, I just had a few words to say to them.

“Please don’t get prosecuted. You are committing an act of CHILD MARRIAGE”

;-)

Sorry Madam

2008-03-29T17:35:00.002Z

Last weekend happened to watch the audio release function of 'Remake' Ravi's (better known as 'Jayam' Ravi) upcoming movie 'Santhosh Subramaniyum' on Sun Music. Then suddenly I felt like renting the DVD of the original Telugu version and immediately called up the rental guy.

When he picked up the call I realized that I did not know the name of the original. So I said that it was a famous Telugu movie with Siddarth and Genelia in the lead. He thought about it for a few seconds and said that it was 'Nuvvostanante Nenoddantana' but when I asked if I could come over to collect it, he said that he had already closed the shop and was at his home. I informed him that I would come later in the week to collect it.

When I went there a few days later only his wife was present and she did not have a clue about the whereabouts of the DVD. So I set out looking for it on my own when a girl came into the shop. She asked the lady if they had the movie 'Bommarilu'. I suddenly realized that Pavan had said that was a great movie and so made a mental note that I should pick it up the next time. At this point a DVD on the rack caught my attention. It featured Siddarth and Genelia on the cover but the title was written in Telugu. I could see that it was a single word so there was no chances of it being 'Nuvvostanante Nenoddantana'. I nevertheless picked it up.The owner arrived at this point.

I casually held out the DVD I had in my hand and asked him what movie it was. He said it was 'Bommarilu' and immediately the girl standing nearby grew excited. She had come looking for it. Now I got confused, for the tag line of 'Bommarilu' said 'Love makes Life beautiful' which was the same tag line of 'Santhosh Subramaniyum'.

It turned out that the owner had given me the wrong name. It was 'Bommarilu' which was the original version of 'Santhosh Subramaniyum' where as 'Nuvvostanante Nenoddantana' was the original of 'Something Something'.

Now there I stood, with the movie I had 'reserved' a few days before and there was this girl who stood there who had clearly stated the name of the movie and asked for it. They had only one copy of the movie.

I handed the movie to the girl and left the shop with a smile.

You think so?

Nah! She was not that attractive!!! So I just apologized to her and walked away with the movie.

:)

But it is funny that I apologized. I seem to do that with consistency when it comes to girls.

A month ago I was waiting at the Spencer's signal. I was on the right most lane meant for motorcycles. I was very close to the median but was balancing on my left foot and watching a hoarding on my left. When I suddenly shifted my balance to the right foot, I heard a girl's cry of pain. I turned around and was taken aback at the sight of a girl who stood in the small gap between the median and my bike. She had been walking through the gaps and had tried to squeeze through the gap when I stamped her feet! Though it was not a mistake on my part, she had this temper on her face which almost melted my helmet. She muttered something under her breath, glared at me and walked away in a huff.

I was irritated to the hilt. What the heck! It was her mistake and she had the audacity to glare and mutter at me. At this point the signal turned green and I raced ahead with the intention of giving her a parting shot.

Any guess what my parting shot at her was?

"I am extremely sorry!"

Man! I must be one real nut.

The A 2 Zee Tag

2008-03-21T15:45:00.009Z

Tags seem to be the rage. Everyone seems to be doing this, especially the girls. And look at me, blogging for 2 years now and not a single tag yet. Bah! What Naansense. So here comes the A 2 Zee tag.

A-Available
Yes. Nichiyamaga. Sathiyamaga.
Now that I have stated it, will hot babes throng outside my door? Gosh! Someones already ringing the doorbell! Yay to the internet. Yippe! Yippe! Yippe! Runs hysterically expecting a hot babe in a bikini.

Major disappointment. It was the next door maami.

B-Best friend(s):
Ah! I would like to share their names with you, but people might accuse me of Name-dropping and moreover I prefer a low-profile. Not happy? Ok, he is a good friend of mine and every now and then keeps pestering me to come up with some good stories so that he can make them into a film. I am still considering that request...

C-Cake or Pie
Are you paying for it? Yeah? Order both. Make them 5 each.

D-Drink of choice
Harpic.

E-Essential thing used every day
Udumbumark Jattikal.

F-Favorite color
Any color which is black.

G-Gummy bears or worms
Gummi bears? You mean bears that can gummi adichify?? Gummi Adi..gummi adi.. gummi adi o...
That sounds interesting, I will go for them.

H-Hometown
Specimen No: 260583
7G Pathfinder Colony,
Mars - 600028

I-Indulgence
Bathing. Sometimes I indulge daily!

J-January or February?
January. I hate February. Makes me miserable. Especially the 14th.

K-Kids and names?
Sorry. Lost track.

L-Life is incomplete without
Death

M-Marriage date
Hmm...er...psst...come closer..(whispers in the ear)
legal in India? (only this is audible)
Chee. Thooo. Avanae Neeyu?? Male readers run helter shelter (also known as) thunda kanom thuniya kanom.

N-Number of siblings
43. Ooops..sorry..thought you were asking about the mango saplings. Ok.. 2.

O-Oranges or apples
Hmmm...er...wait a nimute.
Checks purse. Only 2 ruppes 50 paise available.
Hey! Did you see the report on BBC last night... Oranges and apples cause AIDS it seems. Aiyayo..namaku venampa vambu.

P-Phobias
Tanker Lorries. Ever since I wrote this
Okay. That was a cheap tactic to divert more traffic to my most famous work.

Q-Quote

R-Reason to smile
I brush my teeth.

S-Season
Garnier Fructis. Vijay Jodi No:1 Season 2

T-Tag three people:
Okay. Give me the tags. What? You din't bring them? Naansense.
Hmmm..okay..Whoever feels extremely nutty, take it up.

U-Unknown fact about me
Long back I shot a guy and people still think it was Godse who did it! Hehe! Silly people.
Hungry for more facts? I am a cannibal.

V-Vegetable(s) you do not like
Beetroot. It always reminds me of square root which in turn reminds me of Maths. How dare it does that. I order immediate execution by...hmm..er... beating its roots.

W-Worst habit
Borrowing money and giving it back. Shit! Should stop this.

X-rays you have had
No. I just remove my shirt and doctor counts all the ribs with his ball point pen and then I put on my shirt.

Your favourite food
I told you I am a cannibal. You still want to know?

Z-Zodiac
No. I prefer Arrow Shirts.

The Push

2008-03-16T16:35:00.008Z

Adyar Road. 21.25 Hrs.

It has been a nice evening. I am returning home after spending around 4 hours at the Besant Nagar Beach. Pavan is driving the bike and I ride pillion. Traffic moves at a snail's pace. We are in front of "Dollars & Pounds" showroom and I see a Maruti Swift stranded on the road. The whole traffic is overtaking the car and moving ahead.

An old man and a middle aged lady are struggling and are trying hard to push the car from behind. The car lunges a few feet, splutters and comes to a halt. Traffic continues to overtake them. I ask Pavan if I should help them out and before he could answer I find myself jumping off the bike and running towards the car.

With an extra pairs of hands behind it the car makes a valiant effort to move ahead but after a few more lurches and stutters it comes to a halt. I take a breath and continue to push with all my efforts. Suddenly I am hell bent to make this car start. I don't know why. I just grit my teeth and push it and slowly realize that my steps are slowly breaking into a small jog. The car is moving ahead better and suddenly without any warning it comes alive and zooms ahead.

I almost fall face first on the thar road. The lady shouts at me to watch out. I lurch ahead in a manner similar to the car a few minutes ago but nevertheless manage to balance and regain my posture. The old man and the middle aged lady had somehow managed to stand where they were when the car came alive while I had not been able to control the momentum. May be I was the one who has been pushing it real hard.

The old man shakes my hand and offers his heart felt thanks. The lady's face breaks into a thousand watt smile and she offers her gratitude. I smile ear to ear and shake my head without knowing what to say. I look around and find Pavan moving slowly a few meters ahead and run behind his bike. I am about to seat myself when he shouts at me to wait. He pulls up near the corner of the road and then I get seated and we head homeward.

It was just a random act of kindness. But I felt really happy that I was able to offer it. I do not know if I would have done the same had I seen two men pushing the car. I doubt it. I might have assumed that they would be able to manage on their own. So may be it was the sight of a lady struggling to push the car that made me to act.

Now to a difficult question. Would I have offered help and assistance had I found a car crushed by a lorry and the inmates on the verge of death? Wouldn't I have overtaken it just like the rest of the traffic with only a feeling of pity for them? Would not I have been scared of all the blood? Was it only because it was a relatively simple help that I offered to volunteer? Will I realize I am a coward or would I come to know that I am made of sterner stuff?

Ah! Now, that is thinking too much! Let me be happy with what I did and leave it at that. What say?

P.S: And this is post no. 150

Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!

:D

Sachin - The only gentleman in the team

2008-03-11T04:13:00.002Z

Partners in Crime

2008-03-09T16:43:00.002Z

I open my eyes, half-asleep, and look at my mother who has been trying to wake me up for some time now. I turn around and glance at the clock– it is quarter past nine in the morning. What matter could be of utmost importance to disturb my sleep at so early an hour on a Saturday morning. I probe.

It is the ‘Maami’ from the next door. She seems to be in urgent need of a helping hand to accomplish her task - of stealing mangoes. The mango tree in question, stood within the compound that encompassed the six flats and so naturally was the property of all six – at least as per the logic of our Maami. But the senile grandparents from the flat in the ground floor guarded it ferociously and would be irked to see anyone lay their hands on the fruits of their beloved mango tree. Why wouldn’t they be? After all, it is they who had planted and nursed it - half a century ago.

I enquire where she is now, the Maami. She is already in the terrace busy as a bee – the sixty five year old. Mother has instructions to send her Man Friday up, the moment he wakes up. I refuse to be Man Friday on the wee hours of a Saturday and continue to doze off when the cacophony of the calling bell jolts me awake. My mother answers it and comes back to my room. No prizes for guessing who the visitor is. I grudgingly pull out of my bed and head to the bathroom, brush in hand.

…

We stealthily walk across the red tiles on the terrace as the morning sun watches down on the culprits. A beach station bound local train hurtles across noisily a little distance away. I notice a small yellow bucket sitting on the parapet wall near the tree. Three raw mangoes emerge into my scope of vision as I draw nearer. I look questioningly at Maami. She laments that it was all that she could manage alone. I empathize with her and quickly assess the situation. There are a few mangoes hanging at a distance which my arms can reach. But the main loot – those green and round ones hanging in bunches are out of reach. Within seconds the bucket is filled with the ones within grab.

As I ponder on how to plunder the rest, Maami passes me a long wooden stick with a hook fixed on one end. I look at her, admiring the professional approach. She smiles wickedly and lets me in on a little secret. She takes great joy in doing things when people specifically ask her not to. She has been a brat all her life especially in her younger days. I could imagine that.

I jump over the parapet and carefully settle on the foliage lying on the little sunshade, stick in hand, precariously balancing near the edge. The dry leaves rustle in agony as I quell them. I look up at Maami who extols me in particular and men in general for such audacity of heart. She questions me on how a woman could do such a thing. It is March 8th - the International Women’s day. I let the irony of it sink in and proceeded to hook the branch that is the most laden with fruits.

As I pull it closer, a twig snaps and down goes a mango as we both freeze – me on the sunshade she on the terrace. It hits the ground with THUD and bounces to a corner. It rolls here and there like a tipsy man on a muddy track. And then it rests. A cat lets out a low meow from somewhere. Seconds tick by. And then it flies out - the shrill and sharp voice of the grandmother. It shoots out of the window and forms a question mark in the backyard.

It wants to know what the commotion is all about. Maami twitters nervously and quickly assuages her at the top of her voice that it was nothing – some random disturbance in the neighborhood. No further questions asked. Maami heaves a sigh and informs me that she always knew it would be the grandmother who would be the alert one. She might be old but her ears are sharp. The poor grandfather, it seems, was hard of hearing. Then Maami goes on a somber mood and says that even if the old people come to know of this treacherous act, they would not complain. But they would be bitter as hell within, that Maami was eating their mangoes. But then Maami was never the person who let such trivial matters affect her. After all what use would these mangoes be if not plucked, I am asked.

I now pull and pluck the other mangoes with added caution. Before I risk to lean one foot on the tree while keeping the other on the sunshade, Maami stops me. The target has been achieved I am informed. As I climb back, I am offered a percentage which I politely decline. She is taken aback for a moment but regains her composure quickly and thrusts half a dozen mangoes in my hands.

We quickly walk across bare-footed on the red tiles of the terrace which the sun had heated up well by this time. A Tambaram bound local hurtles west. Maami enquires of what would be our plans for the future of the mangoes. I shrug. She insists on preparing ‘Manga Thoku’.

...

Now excuse me, my mother is calling out for dinner. She has prepared my favorite Onion Chutney as side-dish for the dosa. And after that I eat curd rice. Well, is it that difficult to guess what could be the side-dish this time?

You must be kidding.

Mr. and Mrs. V

2008-03-02T17:07:00.007Z

Cont. from an earlier post...

I felt cheap. I had just walked away without giving the old man his hard earned money. He had called out to me, continuously ringing the bell of his cycle rickshaw while I had walked away without paying any heed – with his money. Had it not been an old man, who on all probabilities had not chased me down because of his age, I could have been trashed or at the least, caught by the collar. I felt real cheap.

I turned back and made a dash when the police officers standing there stopped me. I hastily explained to them that I had forgotten to pay the rickshaw guy. They let me pass. I ran down the stairs hoping desperately that the old man had not left the place. He had not. I ran up to him with the most apologetic face that I could ever manage and pulled out my purse. Though he did not seem to be fuming with anger as I had expected him to be, he kept rambling in Hindi, which luckily I did not understand. I had a feeling that he was cursing me. I gave him his money and suddenly realized that I was not that bad in Hindi, after all I knew how to apologize. With my right hand over the left side of my chest I looked at him straight in the eye and said “Maafkartheejiye”. I had heard people in Hindi movies say that quite often.

I wasn’t entirely sure if I had pronounced it right but I was very sure that my body language would carry the message across. It became clear the it had in fact carried across when he left the place without another word.

Mr. and Mrs. V

Before I left for Delhi, I had sent out a mail to my college friends about the trip with the hope that I would be able to meet them if they happened to stay in Delhi. V had called up on seeing the mail. V, my friend and college classmate, now stayed in Gurgaon with his wife L. L too was from our college. V and L were in love with each other from the first year of engineering and had tied the knot after graduation. No, not the very next day, I think around 2 years later.

V had wanted me to give him a call after I reached Delhi so that we could chalk out a plan to meet up. Though we were from the same hometown of Salem, I was not too close with V during our first year in college for he was in a different class. Back then, we were not classified into batches based on our departments, in the first year itself. It happened only in the second year. These days, I think the department wise classification starts from the first year.

In second year, V and myself got real close. Apart from the fact that we both were from the same place, had gone to the same school and were in the same department now, there remained one most important factor that pulled and bound us together like no other.

We both had flunked in our first year Mathematics paper.

As partners in sorrow we really hit it off well. An arrear in the very first paper that we wrote in college life. Life is not all that miserable when you have a friend who is going through the same shit. Though I would never forgive him for clearing the paper in the next attempt (he had assured me that he would not after writing the paper!) while I managed to successfully flunk for the second time straight he did offer me great solace during those miserable days.

I had landed in Delhi and had taken a taxi to the hotel. I was getting down at the hotel when V called me. We decided to talk in the evening as we thought we both would be clear of the evening’s plan by then. At around 5 P.M, I realized that my work for the day was over and I had the rest of the evening for myself. I called up V and informed him about this. He coolly asked me to reach Gurgaon and somehow manage to reach the Metropolitan mall there where he would arrive in a car and pick me up. Not that I was incapable of doing it but without the knowledge of Hindi I thought it would be difficult. Technically I was traveling to a different state all together. As L rightly remarked later on, I was handicapped without knowing Hindi.

After much confusion it was decided that I would reach Dwaraka and wait there while either he would come there to pick me up or think clearly and tell me where to come from there on. I somehow started to get the feeling that I would never be seeing the couple that evening. I had this feeling that I would go to Dwaraka and after much deliberation on how and where to meet, the plan would be dropped and I would get back to Karol Bagh. Try as I might, I could not get rid of this nagging feeling.

Initially I thought I would take a bus to Gurgaon and proceed from there. I saw a guy who looked like a college student and so I walked up to him and asked him in English as to how to get to Gurgaon. When he replied in Hindi I requested him to do so in English and was taken aback when he shook his head and walked away. Either he was not a college student or college students in Delhi did not speak English.

I realized it was a safe bet to take the Metro. I was at Pragathi Maidan and Dwaraka was at the other extreme. Nevertheless I boarded the train. It was around 6.20 P.M on that Friday evening when I realized that my office travel agent would have mailed my return flight ticket to my corporate id alone. I have faced problems logging on to my corporate email account through the internet before and did not want to take a chance. To be on the safer side I wanted him to mail it to my yahoo account as well. I had just 10 minutes left before he shut down his machine and left home happily looking forward to the weekend. As it would always happen under such situations, I did not have his mobile number and his landline was not reachable for a variety of reasons. And again as luck would have it, the colleagues who I tried to contact had gone for a meeting leaving me fretting and fuming. At last all I could do was message everyone I knew about this and leave it at that hoping somehow he would get the message. In the meanwhile V had called up a number of times enquiring about my whereabouts. I suddenly realized, going by the looks of the passengers standing nearby that I must be looking really funny with all that furious messaging and shouting aloud in Tamil.

I got down at Dwaraka and felt really frightened. Within seconds the mass that had got down with me had disappeared and I was the only one left at the station. The station looked deserted and eerie. The fact that I carried around 8 Grand in my purse made things all the more frightening. I decided to go to a place that had some humans in the vicinity. I found a lone tea shop and felt relieved. I order a cup of cold coffee and managed to strike a conversation with the shop keeper with my broken and battered Hindi. After some time the shop keeper realized how pathetic my Hindi was and he decided to speak to me in his broken and battered English. Sigh!

The much anticipated call from V’s mobile came. I picked it up and was about to hurl a few dirty words at him when I realized that it was L who was on the line! Phew! They had managed to reach Dwaraka Sector 9 station and wanted to know if it would be much trouble for me to come there. I was at Dwaraka and Dwaraka Sector 9 was another 8 stations from there. I knew that they coming all the way here would not make much sense and hence purchased my tickets to Sector 9. I enquired the guy at the counter when the last train back to Karol Bagh was. It was at 10 P.M. It was 7.15 already. I was back on the train now heading towards the Station Dwaraka Sector 9 which technically speaking was 35 stations away from the point where I boarded the Metro – the Pragathi Maidan Station.

... to be continued

Update

2008-02-22T02:01:00.002Z

I am leaving to my hometown Salem tonight to attend a friend's marriage. Have known him from my school days. The guy has been constantly ahead of me in life! When I was in school, he left and joined a diploma course in a college; when I was in college he had started working and now when I am working he is getting married! The way things look like, by the time I get ready to tie the knot, his kids would be in school :)

So people who are expecting the remaining part of the Delhi trip, please hold on! Shall be updating it after my home bound trip.

Tata!

The Metro and the rickshaw pedaller

2008-02-20T18:49:00.008Z

THE METRO: For someone who is used to traveling in over-crowded trains in the city, yellow tickets in hand, breathing stale air circulating under the sweaty armpits of fellow passengers, anxiously enquiring them about a particular station, standing and balancing precariously near the edge of the open doors - the metro trains in Delhi turned out to be a different world altogether. The major leap forward differentiating it from the traditional railways that we are used to, is the ticketing system.

When I had expected at the most a computerized printout, I was perplexed to see a round plastic token with the image of ‘Qutb Minar’ engraved on one side and the other side carrying the name “Delhi Metro”. Wondering what purpose it served I turned and walked towards the station when I realized it was the key to open the barricades that faced me now. A sensor placed in the barricade reads the signal when the token is placed on it and the two black halves split up allowing one to pass through before they quickly slam back.

In the particular metro line that I traveled, you are either heading towards ‘Indraprastha’ or towards ‘Dwaraka’. So depending on the destination, you end up standing on either of the two platforms. ‘Indraprastha’ and ‘Dwaraka’ – something like ‘Tambaram’ and ‘Beach station’ down here in Chennai.

The train arrived without any fanfare and silently halted. People inside got ready to climb down and the multitude on the platform got ready to step in – but not unless the driver activates a button that makes the doors slide apart. Once inside the air-conditioned coach, a female voice prompts everyone to keep away from the doors and within seconds the doors slam shut and the train lurches ahead. Before I enquire the guy standing next to me about ‘Moti Nagar’ station, my eyes fall on the elaborate route map above the door, indicating the lineup of the stations. I had six more stations to go. A little further, on display was a electronic panel that continuously screened messages about the upcoming station – both in Hindi and English. The illiterate needn’t despair for there is the girl’s voice, announcing in both languages. Spoon feeding at its best.

Arriving at ‘Moti Nagar’ I stepped out and walked down the stairs of the station when the sight of another set of barricades welcomed me. But having gained the experience I walked confidently and pointed the token – nothing. Took it back, scratched my head and showed it again – still nothing. A genius standing behind me seemed to be convinced of his belief that I was standing too close to the barricade. He pulled me back by the shoulders and triumphantly declared “Now show” and I did – nothing again. When we both scratched our heads a third guy came from behind, overtook both of us, dropped the token in a slot and walked past as the doors opened.

DUH!

You flash it at the entrance and drop it in the slot at the exit.

THE RICKSHAW PEDALLER: I enquired him if he had change for 50 Rupees. He took the note from my hand and ran down to the shop in the corner of the platform and ran back again towards me. For a man of his age, he was fast. I took the notes in my hands – four 10 rupee notes. He had already taken his 10 rupees for the ride from my Delhi office to ‘Moti Nagar’ metro station. Whether he gets it from me at the end of the ride or takes it himself at the beginning of the ride shouldn’t be of my concern and so I promptly boarded the rickshaw. It was my first experience in this means of transport. I felt guilty and sick when the old man struggled to gain momentum after halting at a signal. To ease my conscience I looked away from him and pretended to admire the sights and sounds of the new city.

We reached the station when I got down and started walking when I heard the old man shouting at me. I turned back and looked at him, puzzled. “Mera Paiza” he asked me with a straight face.

Anger shot up in me. The crook. Having taken the 10 rupee for the ride at the start he was asking again when I got down. I walked up to him, faced him and pointed my right hand at his face and asked him to get lost. I continued to ascend the stairs when I heard him continuously ringing his bells and calling out to me. The crook.

I walked up to the ticketing counter and pulled out my purse to buy my tickets. There nestled behind the 500 and 100 rupee notes were the four notes that the crook had given me.

My heart skipped a beat when I saw one of the four notes he had given me - It was a twenty rupee note.

… To be continued

CONDUCT

2008-02-19T04:32:00.002Z

When did they change the spelling for CONTACT?

Location: Pondy Bazaar Junction, Anna Salai, Chennai

...back

2008-02-18T18:08:00.002Z

Yeah! Back to Singara Chennai! So, now I can proudly proclaim that I have traveled to the four corners of India! Ah! What a statement to make!

Ok. But sadly din get to visit The Taj. But got to see Qutb Minar, that is, from my Janal seat in the flight :D

But nevertheless it was a nice trip for various reasons. Shall do a detailed post shortly and yeah post some pics too. So do keep watching this place!

To Delhi...

2008-02-14T19:02:00.003Z

Whoooosh...me flying to Delhi tomorrow morning. Of course it is official. Whether it is a 2-day or 3-day trip is yet to be confirmed. So, if time permits and everything works out fine, planning to make a quick trip to Agra and visit the Taj Mahal! Wow! Wouldn't that be wonderful. Hope I do get to do that.

Heard some encouraging news from one of my friends in Delhi that the temperature was really warm at 6-7 degrees in the night! Because the last week it hit sub-zero it seems!!!

Brrrrr....! Already started feeling the cold.

The best part of the trip is that I am going to be on my own with no one to accompany. I love such kind of situations which brings the best in you... whatever that might be!

Okie... only 3 hours remains for me to sleep :(

Tata!

Josiyam...

2008-02-12T17:30:00.000Z

You know, off late my belief in Astrology is growing by leaps and bounds. I have been checking this Horoscope stuff that appears in the Yahoo homepage after I sign out of the mail and Boy! What do I say? It is as if some invisible guy is closely following my life and silently writing the stuff over there. No No, it is more like he is writing the stuff out there and my life is following it. Ooouuu! It is scary. It is fun. And best of all, it is true. Bang on target, most of the time. I could clearly see what aspect of my life that damn guy is talking about. So, all these Rahu Kethu, gravity, pulls and pushes, influence of the forces, the birth date and time, alignment of the planets, and Linda Goodman are not rubbish after all.

I am loving it.

Stuck

2008-02-06T18:53:00.000Z

I sat on the chair lazily, eyes glued to the television.

EEEEEEEEAAAAAWAWAW!!!

Oh! Shit! I leapt in the air and crashed on the floor. And then crawled and hid behind the TV stand.

Holy Cow. The sound felt like the nerve wracking cry of a skinny soldier hit on his bony ass by a 0.25 cal lead bullet. No, not that I have been shot on my bum earlier or heard someone get shot, just that I liked that comparison.

EEEEEEEEAAAAAWAWAW!! EOONAHAWWAEEAW! AWW! AWW! AWW!

Jesus. What on earth was that? The sound was coming from upstairs. From Vineeth’s house.

Vineeth Venugopal. L.K.G – B. Glazebrook School. Salem. Son of Venugopal, who happened to be the husband of Mini Venugopal. They all happened to be our tenants - 13 years back.

Mr. Venugopal - Medical Representative, Pfizer Company. He was a gentleman from God’s own country. In addition to the rent, he always gave me a few boxes of “Protenix” health drink and few more bottles of “Corex” cough syrup every month. Those products always carried the label “Doctor’s sample, not to be sold”. And we always stayed true to that, for my dad, in a way, was a doctor ( He has done his Ph.D - Doctor of philosophy) and Venugopal never sold them to us. So there you go, Doctor’s sample – not to be sold.

The Venugopals were a family of misplaced respect.

Venugopal gave respect even to electricity. When the power went off, he would jut his head out of the window and smile down at me. And when I smiled back at him from the verandah he would stop smiling abruptly and enquire “Prasad, current epo varuvar?”

Vineeth Venugopal never gave respect even to his father. When asked what his father was doing, he would say “Avan elutharan”

Mini Venugopal called her son “Monu” and her husband “Venu”

EEEEEEEEAAA! AAWA! EOOAWA! WAW!! AWA! OOEE! OOEE! OOEE!

It was little Vineeth. What could be the matter? I came out of my hiding and ran out my home and then immediately ran inside realizing I was wearing only a small trouser. Dressed fully I shot back again. I climbed the stairs and with each step the painful cry was getting louder.

When I reached the threshold, I saw the family.

Mini Venugopal standing in a corner, watching with terror. Venugopal kneeling on the floor. Vineeth Venugopal standing there hollering his lungs out. For a second, they all turned and looked at me. And after that Vineeth cried with amplified effect.

“Remove the cobwebs from your hair. You are scaring him” cried Venugopal.

Damn cobwebs behind the TV stand. I ran inside pulling out the cobwebs.

“What happened Aunty?”

She pointed to Venugopal.

“What happened Uncle?”

He pointed to Vineeth.

“What happened Vineeth?”

He pointed at his jeans pant. The Zip. It was pulled up half the way. But it could not be pulled up all the way.

The reason. The rusty zip had clamped, squeezed and locked a fold of loose skin from little Vineeth’s … well… little “neeny-weeny”. There it stood, his poor “neeny-weeny” neither in nor out. Neither here nor there. Caught in between, like a head sticking out of a guillotine, ready to be chopped off.

I looked up at him and looked down at his neeny-weeny.

BAHWW!! EEEEEAAANABEHAW! BUHA! BUHA! BUHA! EAWO! EAWO!

“Pull it slowly Venu” instructed Mini. And when Venugopal pulled it, Vineeth bawled all the more and then Mini had to add “No, not the zip” The more he had pulled, the more it got trapped.

“Where in the blue blazes is his underwear?” roared Venugopal.

“They are in his cupboard” answered Mini meekly.

“Damn! They should be here. Inside his pants” shouted Venugopal. Vineeth cried looking at his Mum, feeling cheated.

When Venugopal approached him once more, Vineeth hurried back realizing that his dad was doing him more bad than good.

“Prasad. Carry him downstairs. I will take him to a Doc” said Venugopal and rushed in to change into his pants.

“Venu…you pl…” started Mini and stopped abruptly.

I clutched Vineeth under his arms and carried him downstairs. Poor guy, must have been really worried if the little girl, his classmate who lived in the same street would catch him in this state.

In a short while, a harried Venugopal rushed down the stairs and started his Bajaj Scooter. He put little Vineeth in the front and sped away. I could hear Vineeth wailing till the end of the street.

They returned after half an hour. This time, the father looked relieved and the son looked extremely relieved. In fact he wore a big smile on his face. Everything was back there where it should be.

Before I could ask, Venugopal replied “Forceps”

He then looked down at his son and raised his eyebrows. “What do you wear first?”

“Chaddi”

“Then…”

“Pants”

“Good”

“Mooommmmy!!” Vineeth climbed the stairs excitedly...

Moral (on an afterthought) : Proper protection prevents unwanted hassles.

Books, myself, the shopkeeper and the woman in purdha...

2008-02-03T16:47:00.000Z

In the past week, I have been frequenting the second-hand book seller who sits on the pavement just outside the towering LIC building, and in the process have added a handful of books to my ever-growing library at home. I just love standing near the pavement and gazing at the books neatly piled one above the other, trying to see if any book or author, worth its name, catches my eye. On most occasions I never go there with any particular book in mind. I allow myself the simple pleasure of scrutinizing them but the ignorant but good-hearted shop keeper keeps jutting one book or the other to see if I would stop searching.

I had picked up the following books at various points of time at his place.

Catch-22 - Joseph Heller
Foucault’s Pendulum – Umberto Eco
Exodus – Leon Uris
Love Story – Erich Segal
Uh-Oh – Robert Fulghum
Hell’s Angels – Hunter S Thompson
Slaughter-house Five – Kurt Vonegut
Paradise News – David Lodge
Good Times Bad Times – Harold Evans
The Humming Bird’s Daughter – Luis Alberto Urrea

And there have been books like Harold Robbin’s “The Carpet Baggers” and Jeffrey Archer’s “Kane and Abel” which I had picked on an impulse only to regret the choice later. For me they appear like mega-serials in the printed form. I have already returned them and will be going for the replacements sometime in the future.

I have just finished reading “The world according to Garp” by John Irving which I had picked up at a bookshop near Flora Fountain in Mumbai. A wonderful book. I just started reading and, as they say, got swept away with the ridiculous, hilarious, engrossing and tragic book. The brilliance of the writer shines through in the stunning accident scene and the way he sets it up. As I am not too sure of how good I am at reviewing books, I would leave it to you to see how good the book is. Also check out the reviews in Goodreads. But though I liked the book, its eccentric characters, the crazy situations and the dark humor, I think the story slackened towards the end and I feel slightly guilty of rushing through those portions. But definitely a good book and by popular opinion, the best of John Irving.

Yesterday, I was at the more organized and well stocked second-hand bookshop near my home in Kodambakkam. And this time I bought “All I really need to know I learned in kindergarten” by Robert Fulghum. Reading books by Robert Fulghum is turning out to be fun for they are actually something similar to good blog posts. Short, entertaining and full of life. And it doesn’t take much of your time to finish a book.

And there I was, crouched near the pile of books on the pavement shop near LIC, busy browsing when I heard the voice of a woman. I turned around and saw just the pair of eyes of a woman who had covered herself fully in a black “purdha”. She handed a hundred rupee note to the shopkeeper and asked him for change. The good-hearted guy, true to his nature immediately handed her the notes and taking the opportunity to get a new customer, asked her “Don’t you read books Madam?”. Though my eyes were back on the lookout for books, my ears tuned in to hear what she had to say.

She replied “I don’t find time enough to read the Koran. And what is the use in reading these books? All they do is spoil the purity of the mind”

The good-natured shop keeper, true to his nature of not wanting to hurt sentiments replied “Very true Madam”

Sema Hot-u Machi!

2008-01-24T12:58:00.000Z

Risk-u edukerathelam enguluku rusk-u sapadremathiri!
Translation: For me, Risk taking is like Rusk eating!

Ellam oru vilambaram than!
Translation: All one advertisement only!

Shot at the function in Temple Bay, Mahabalipuram.

The fire walk was in fact a cake walk! The toughest part was preparing for it. Had to soak the legs up to the knees in a bucket filled with massive blocks of ice! Brrr....

Disclaimer: The photoshop work stops with the color editing and does not include any tampering with the fire!

P.S:
Title Translation: Its Very Hot Brother-in-law!!!

:D

Drum Roll!

2008-01-22T17:06:00.000Z

Drum Roll: (noun) the sound of a drum (especially a snare drum) beaten rapidly and continuously.

But my colleague Tilakesh gives a new dimension to the term Drum Roll. Check it out!

All DAY Jolly DAY...!!!

2008-01-21T15:31:00.000Z

Temple Bay Resort, Mahabalipuram.

Here's the "dance" I performed with colleagues at a get-together function. After a long time had real fun participating in this and a skit, which was a spoof of 'Titanic'. I played the role of Jack in the skit. 'Bhagavathar' Jack, to be precise. Both were well received by the audience (Don't you hear them in this video?!) We totally freaked out in this song. We had prepared the 'instruments' using thermocol in 2 nights before the event! I was the one having fun running around triplicane in search of chart papers, thermocol, fevicol, bell pins and stuff. We had sufficient time only to practice a bit for the skit. So it was direct performance for the dance!

And if you have any difficulty identifying me; I am the one with the violin (and a shirt hanger) in the initial stages and with the guitar for the rest of the video. Black Shirt Cream Cargo Pant.

Do watch out for the antics of the rest of the troop, especially for the guy in black and black who was using the saxophone like a guitar at one stage!

All DAY Jolly DAY...!!!

P.S: This is not the complete version. I am not sure if they recorded the full performance which consisted of 3 songs

1. Em Peru Padayappa...
2. Aawa Aawa..hey Aawa
3. All Day Jolly Day

Will upload the full version if I get it.

I have the video of the skit 'Ultanic' too, but kind of blurry and shot from a distance. You might not get the dialogues.

NDTV - Entertainer of the Year

2008-01-18T04:22:00.000Z

Image Courtesy: extramirchi.com

Which way?!

2008-01-17T05:41:00.000Z

So...Any Guess which way I am facing?!

Go on..take a guess!

Location: Dil Chata Hai Fort, Goa

Chennai Sangamam...

2008-01-14T08:24:00.000Z

Phew! Blogger sucks when it comes to photo uploading and organizing. Had an agonizing time trying to upload the snaps and almost gave up! Guess its time to migrate to wordpress.

Okay. So, here are some pictures from the event. Hope you are able to spot Kanimozhi and S.J.Surya. The videos are slighty blurred and are in a different format. Each clip is only around 9 seconds. So, first got to convert them to a proper format and club them together to make it into a watchable video.

Let me try…

Freaking out like hell at Chennai Sangamam...!!!

2008-01-12T17:09:00.000Z

This has to be one of the most memorable days! Just returned after 4 hours of excitement, fun, dance and what not at the 'Chennai Sangamam' held at Natesan Park in T-Nagar. Was astonished at the sight of our VenkatNarayana road! It wore the look of a grand gala rich wedding function with the entire stretch lit up with lights. Serial lights hung from each and every single tree on either sides starting from Pangal Park all the way up to the point where the road meets Mount Road.

Other highlights of the event...

1. Stood right behind the Cheif Minister M. Karunanidhi's daughter, writer, poet and Member of the Parliament - Kanimozhi at the event and also got an autograph from her!
2. Chances of my photograph appearing in the newspapers and media are high because of the above said point! :)
3. Throughly enjoyed the Music show and Puppet show
4. Was spell bound by the thronging and cheering crowds on the roads as the drummers blasted away
5. Danced to my favorite 'Dapankuthu' music in front of 200-300 people with absolute abandon!!! Just could not resist the temptation to freak out! :)) A whole lot of people were recording and clicking snaps! If some one has it please do send me the video! :D
6. Bumped face on into wonderful director and horrible actor, S.J. Surya in the crowd and also managed a close up snap!
7. Saw the guy who performs the rural number in the opening scenes of the smash hit movie 'Paruthiveeran'. He was wearing the same pink costume and performing on the streets with his troupe! :)
8. Lots to talk about Thirunelvi Halwa, Madurai Jigardanda and the food stalls on the roads!

All snaps and videos are lying in my mobile phone. Will pick up my card reader from office tomorrow and transfer them and make a post on the event. Keep watching this space!

A small Coincidence

2008-01-09T09:36:00.000Z

A few minutes back I was walking towards the HDFC bank located on Mount Road. I took the turn near Senthur Hotel when I saw a man, who going by his appearance was probably a beggar, lying curled up on the pavement, blissfully asleep. I slowed down as I walked past him. I could see that it was a perfect photographic opportunity for a press photographer or a journalist. Here was a guy amidst all the plethora of activities happening around on a hot afternoon in the busy Mount Road junction, dozing away on a platform aware of nothing.

Hardly did I take a few steps past him when a guy on a TVS Fiero hastily parked his bike and leapt out and ran backwards. He had a SLR camera swung on his neck!! I turned around and watched when he ran towards the guy I had seen lying on the road. I would have swooned in astonishment had he photographed that guy just like I had imagined. Luckily he stood next to him and hastily adjusted his aperture setting and captured a group of people crossing the road, walking towards him. I walked back to him and enquired if he was a press photographer and he said he was indeed! I told him how that just minutes back I had seen that guy sleeping on the pavement and thought about the photographic moment when this reporter appeared on the scene with a camera in hand! He smiled at me.

Pointing to the guy still asleep, I asked him to consider it…for I felt it would make a wonderful picture and with that I started walking again towards the bank.

Bombay Dreams

2008-01-06T11:01:00.000Z

Visiting World Press Photo 07 in the Indian Express office in Express Tours, Nariman Point

Being driven down Marine drive and watching Haji Ali Dargah

Picking up second hand books (hard bound editions of The Godfather and The God of Small Things, paperbacks of The World according to Garp and One Flew over the Cuckoo's nest) in the bookshops near Flora fountain

Eating pasta and sipping beer in a restaurant facing the sea near Wankhede stadium

Passing by Siddhivinayak temple

Watching the Dabbawalas

It was a nice trip! :)

P.S: I did take a few snaps of the sunset at Juhu Beach. Will try and upload tomorrow. And my apologies for the poor quality of the pictures. My 6600 could muster only so much! Time to think about a camera. Digital or SLR? The argument continues...

Cinema Cinema...

2008-01-01T15:58:00.000Z

First of all let me wish you all a very happy and life filled New year ahead!

Here comes the first day of the New Year and also the last day of my break! For those of you who didn’t know, I had taken off from work for 11 days starting from December 22nd. I prefer to call it a break rather than a vacation for I did not hit the road on my bike for a road trip or get together with my friends for a tour, which would be the main ingredient of any vacation as far as I see them. All I did was sit at home and watch movies and sporadically help out my mom in her daily chores. I made a two day trip to my home town Salem very recently and also spent an afternoon riding up the hairpin bends of the hill station Yercaud with two of my school friends, one of whom is getting married this February.

Off late I seem to be getting more and more hooked to the movies, especially English and foreign language films. When you get pirated copies of excellent quality for a price that I consider a steal and have ample time to kill, I guess nothing should stop a person from indulging in movie marathons! And add to that a recently purchased Sony Music system that doubles up as a home theatre, you have the perfect setting. So let me share my views on the movies that I watched recently.

The Grapes of Wrath: I picked up this 1940 film which was nominated for seven academy awards mainly because I have read (not completed yet!) the book by the same name written by John Steinbeck and hence was curious to know how it has been adopted on celluloid. The story follows the lives of the Joad family, who, like the rest of the poor farmers during that time, are driven out of their hometown Oklahoma by the greed of the banking industry. The family then goes on a miserable trip in a rickety truck in search of job and food to the city of California. Though I have not completed the book, I came to know of the climax through my friend Gurubharan (who introduced me to the book) and that image has not left me since then. But again it was too controversial a climax for the 1940’s and the director safely decided to remove it.

It was strange to watch incidents narrated in elaborate fashion with great attention paid to the surroundings in the book, simply rush past as scenes in the movie. The time span you take to know a character, his actions and motivations in a book makes the experience more enriching compared to a movie. A lot of scenes I had enjoyed picturing in my mind when I read the book were absent in the movie, for the director has to cut down on the frills to confine the story to 2 hours. On a whole the movie captures the intense turmoil undergone by the family but I definitely feel the characters I formed in my mind are far better than those I saw in the movie.

Amores Perros (Love's a Bitch): Ever since I watched Mexican Director Alejandro Gonzales Inarritu’s Babel in the theatre I wanted to get hold of the DVDs of his previous works. He has done only two movies prior to Babel and they are his directorial debut Amores Perros and his second film 21 grams. He has this style of non-linear story narrating similar to the kinds you see in Quentin Tarantino movies. I wonder if our Mani Ratnam would have been inspired by these directors for crafting his film Ayutha Ezhuthu. If in Babel the director chose to narrate three different stories taking place in 3 countries before tying them up in the end, in Amores Perros all three stories take place in the same city of Mexico and all are in some ways associated with the shattering car crash that occurs right at the opening of the movie. A guy who lusts for his brother’s wife, a family man who leaves his wife and children to start a new life with a model, an old man who left his wife and 2 year old daughter twenty years ago to become a guerilla fighter. These are the people who form the crux of the story. Dogs play a huge part in the movie. One of the best films I have seen in recent times. Do watch it but make sure your family members are not around, for the film contains scenes that your mummy would not be happy to see you watching! With a 5.1 surround sound, keeping the uumms.. and aahss...down to a bare minimum was a tough job indeed!!

Taxi Driver: When a movie is directed by one gentleman by the name Martin Scorsese and performed by another gentleman by the name Robert De Niro you better watch it, for these guys are legends in their fields! It is the story of an insomniac psychotic cab driver Travis Bickle who cruises the streets of Manhattan. He feels happy when the streets filled with filth and scum become neat and clean after the heavy rains. The problem is he sees the society in the same way and feel he is the heavy rain who is meant to clean it up! A great movie with a superb chilling background score.

Raging Bull: My GOD! I just could not believe that I was watching the same actor who performed the role of a loony cabby in Taxi Driver. Robert De Niro transforms himself into Jake La Motta, the boxer on whose life the film is based. And Martin Scorsese goes on to prove why he is held in such high regard. Four years after their Taxi Driver the director and actor team up to deliver this hard hitting movie. The movie starts off with a fatty rehearsing in front of a mirror before he performs his stand up comedian act in his own bar and the movie goes on to tell who he was before he led himself to this pathetic state. The moment the movie goes into a flashback to show the fit and trim, the Bronx Bull, the Raging Bull Jake La Motta you realize this is what Method acting and Robert Di Niro are all about. You just won’t be able to recognize and thereby realize that this guy is the same stupid fatty who was practicing in front of a mirror. No wonder he won an Oscar for the role. Absolutely riveting intense exhilarating movie whose camera angles makes you feel you were right inside the boxing ring. Sure enough you are bound to be knocked out at the end of it.

The Bicycle Thief: If you happened to see the recent Tamil movie Polladhavan starring Dhanush and had wondered where the director had got the inspiration for the movie, look no further. Just watch this movie! Yeah, they have lifted the crux of the story straight out of this movie and have added the required ingredients to Indianise it. The hero of The Bicycle Thief is from a poor family and so is Dhanush in Polladhavan. The hero works as a poster boy and needs his bicycle for his job. Dhanush works in a Banking sector and needs his bike for his job. The bicycle gets stolen. The bike gets stolen. The hero goes with his son to the stolen goods mart hopeful of finding his missing cycle. Dhanush goes with his friend to the stolen goods mart hopeful of finding his missing bike. But all this should not take any credit away from the director of Polladhavan Mr. Vetrimaran for his wonderful effort for the similarities end here. Vertrimaran seems to have lifted just this thread for the story and has strung enough beads to make it into a beautiful necklace that no one really bothers to know where the original string came from! In one of the recent interviews with him the host took a dig at him when he asked “Sir..from which DVD..sorry..where did you get the inspiration for the movie”. He skillfully escaped by saying that “This incident actually happened to one of my friends. He lost his bike. I have taken just that line and have added the other elements to it”. Nice story Mr. Vetrimaran. You have a good imagination indeed.

The Bicycle Thief ends with the hero going desperate over his stolen cycle and finally turning into a thief himself to save his job. In the process he gets nabbed by a crowd and thrashed in front of his little kid. But he is pardoned by the owner and the film ends as he shamefacedly walks down the street towards the sunset with his son in tow.

Though I have watched a few more movies, let us talk about them some other day. Will be back to office tomorrow and the day after will be leaving to Mumbai for a two day official trip. This will be my first trip in a domestic flight and my first visit to Mumbai as well. I have been in an International flight prior to this. The experiences I had the last time I went to Calcutta on an official visit still remains fresh in my memory. You may like to read about them here, here and here.

Hope the Mumbai visit is as eventful as well! Bye for now and Happy New Year once again!

When was the last time you laughed like that...

2007-12-24T18:30:00.000Z

Aelelo Ailasa... Aelelo Ailasa...

2007-12-19T18:12:00.000Z

Sitting in front of my computer at office, I looked up distractedly when someone entered opening the door opposite my cubicle. As the door slowly closed behind him I caught a glimpse of the climate outside. It was dark, extremely gloomy and it was hardly 5 in the evening. A heavy downpour that lashed the city half an hour later caught no one by surprise. The rains belted on, showing no respite and finally decided to take a break at around 7.

Wrapping myself securely inside the rain coat I started my Splendor. Soon enough I found myself inching on Anna Salai. Waiting in the traffic just across Spencer Plaza, I turned to my left and was shocked to see the road that lead to Royapetta Clock tower. Actually the road was missing and in its place lay a massive water body. For a moment I thought of the pathetic roads that led to my home in Kodambakkam and shuddered. My regular route would be to go over Gemini Flyover take the left curve that branches out right in the middle of the flyover and join the road that leads to G.N Chetty road. From there on I would take all possible shortcuts that a bike can fit in, to reach home. But today I thought I would rather stay as far as possible on Mount Road till it touched Pondy Bazaar. But one look at the stretch of vehicles queued up on the road leading to Pondy Bazaar and my bike was already on its way heading to good old G.N. Chetty road and there in lies all my woes.

The last time I saw the reassuring sight of the grey thar road under my wheels was the moment I was on Gemini Flyover just before I made up my mind to head towards G. N. Chetty road fearing the traffic. Starting from that fateful moment till the time I reached home, my bike sailed at different levels in different roads. Water flowed on the roads as if there was no drainage system in the city. I rode my bike, perched like a monkey, placing my legs on the crash guard. I deftly balanced as much as I could to keep the bike moving for, the moment I stopped, my legs would be in the drainage mixed rain water. I was extremely proud of my driving skills when I managed to cross a section of the road without applying brakes, little realizing that I just crossed a toddler of a water body. The Grandmas were waiting for me.

I rode on and took a right turn when the wonderful sight of almost half submerged cars heading my way welcomed me. I hesitated for a moment and realizing that I had brilliantly landed myself in a watery soup, raised the accelerator. The unearthly muffled sound of the engine battling for air filled my ears as the bike struggled in the knee deep waters. For 2 whole minutes I moved, stood, honked, cursed, sighed in the filthy waters. Finally when bike moved on a place where the engine was out of the water I looked down at it. Vapors were furiously steaming out from it. And I had a good 3-4 kms of sea to sail through still. The (imaginary) roads that I took from then on almost killed my bike. At a particular stretch I was the only guy who was still riding a bike for almost all the two wheeler riders were seen pushing their dead vehicles. My bike was in no mood to give in.

I noticed a guy, drunk like a swine wading in the waters, abusing everyone in sight. After sometime I lost sight of him. When I passed a particular spot with my bike battling it out, I saw him lying on the road, covered neck deep in the dirty waters. The drunken pig was struggling to get up and with each passing car a set of waves hit him hard and he fell back into the water!! ( This incident might seem far fetched but believe me it happened!!)

A few meters later, I entered the deepest stretch of the evening. The front wheel went completely under water but still I could heard that reassuring muffled struggling sound from the engine somewhere deep inside. The strong waves that crashed on my bike whenever a vehicle passed near me made the nightmare I was going through all the more miserable.

Finally I reached the last stretch of the sailing. It was a deserted lake and I was alone when a co-sailer joined me on the left. It was a stretch filled with potholes. But they were visible only on a road not inside a lake. I slowed down my boat waiting for my co sailer to overtake me so that if his boat capsized ahead of me, I could be alert. But he seemed to have similar plans and sailed slower than me. This went on for some time as both the boats sailed side by side. I realized my co sailer was in no mood to take any risk. Pretty soon I rocketed like a steam boat as water splashed in a V formation in front of me.

It was a slum area with thatched huts on either side. I suddenly realized that if I continued in this speed I would be splashing waters right inside their living rooms and reduced the speed when I noticed something. All the huts were already half submerged in the waters and there was no signs of a single soul in the whole lane. They must have vacated the place well in advance fearing the rains.

At last I reached home and parked my bike and looked at it with pride in my eyes. It looked back at me. It seemed to say “You should have taken the Mount Road you dumb ass”.

I turned back and walked homeward with the water filled shoes quacking noisily.

20 Years of landmark

2007-12-13T09:38:00.000Z

Twenty years ago, on the same day, Landmark commenced with its first store in Chennai.

I happened to be in their Spencer Plaza branch today and managed to click a few snaps of the celebrations. Still have not decided on which book to purchase as they have a special discount of 20% only valid for the day. I might decide by evening. Hopefully.

Happy Birthday Thalaiva!!!

2007-12-12T01:10:00.000Z

I had something entirely different in my mind for a writeup on Superstar's Birthday, but preparing the collage took time and I realized I was late. So somehow ended up writing this! Don't ask me why, I don't have a clue! (It's 2.15 in the morning!)

Eight years ago…K.S Theatre – Salem

The atmosphere on the roads leading to the theatre is jubilant. The theatre premises is covered with people jostling with booked tickets in hand and the crowd overflows onto the roads leading to chaos and traffic snarls outside. It is still a good 30-45 minutes for the counter doorways to open to let the people in. It had been 10 whole days since the movie had been released but the hysteria has not waned a bit.

I stand in the crowd, sweat running down my face, as the hot afternoon sun bakes us happily. But I am least bothered. I proudly look at the ticket that I had managed to get hold through a friend of mine whose father knew somebody who knew the person who would be able to get tickets for the movie! A man clad in a lungi and shirt walks towards us and enquires innocently if he can get the tickets for the afternoon show by standing in the queue. The people around me burst into fits of laughter and point him the black board which indicates the status of the movie for the week. It had been booked for 2 whole weeks.

Soon enough the counters open and I find myself being pushed, pulled and tugged at as the mad scramble to enter the theatre begins. My jaw suffers a shock as the guy in front of me launches his elbow backwards. My friend stamps on my feet unable to resist the impetus from behind and someone is pulling my collar. I keep checking my back pocket to see if my purse is still there. Dust and sand particles fall on my hair and face and I look up and find this boy walking over the heads of the people in the queue, deftly balancing with his hands and legs on the walls. “Dai…*&^%$$ yara avan korangkuku poranthaven… pudichi ilungada avane…” orders a masculine voice from behind and the crowd responds. The boy screams as people tug at his legs and tear at his pants. Pretty soon, he is brought back to ground. I watch all this with utmost joy and shout myself silly and move forward aided by the momentum from behind. The light at the end of the narrow alleyway is where a man stands, checking the coupons and handing over the actual tickets. More noise and chaos follows as a bunch of boys in their eagerness knock that man down and jump over his body to run inside the theatre. After much struggle we emerge successfully from the battlefield and immediately go berserk at the site of the theatre door.

Barely do we manage to locate our seats in the darkness and settle when the red lights at the bottom of the golden colored screen come alive. A fitting music booms from the speakers all around as the screen goes up amidst loud cheers, whistles and flying debris. The moment the screen reaches all the way up, the film certificate is shown. And soon enough the movie starts.

The much expected intro music plays as small tiny blue stars appear on the screen forming the words SUPER STAR and golden colored letters fly in one by one finally forming the word RAJINI as it settles between the words SUPER and STAR.

The magic has started…

The initial scenes in the movie show a marriage ceremony taking place. Sivaji Ganesan is seen sitting on a throne with a ‘Vel’ in hand. He asks the bride groom if he is ready to marry the bride. He agrees. Then he turns around and faces the bride and asks if she is happy to marry the bridegroom. She denies and her relatives try to cover it up. Immediately Sivaji cancels the marriage and orders to open the well where a couple committed suicide decades ago after they were forced into a marriage without asking their consent. The saree and other items carried in the procession are dropped into the well and the camera zooms on the water in the well and it slowly turns into the milk that Soundarya pours in front of a snake pit! She prays devoutly as a snake slides out of the pit and gobbles up the milk. And after that instead of slithering back into the pit it goes berserk scaring a group of workers nearby.

And at this moment a black car is seen racing on the roads.

The whole theatre erupts. It is exultation all around. I jump up and down throwing up the bits of papers that the tickets had become. Whistles pierce the eardrum.

The car comes to a grinding halt as the workers almost fall prey to it. The whole theatre waits in anticipation as the doors of the imported car open skywards. The crowd waits with eagerness and out steps Ramya Krishnan. The whole house goes silent and people fall back on the seats in utter dismay and disappointment.

She shouts at them for running recklessly in front of her car. Hearing the reason she orders the execution of the snake and slaps Soundarya (her servant) who pleads with her to spare the snake. The snake slithers helter shelter and finally gets back inside the pit. The worker stops and looks at Ramya Krishnan. She orders him to destroy the pit and kill the snake. He points out that a pit is equivalent to a temple but is immediately put down by her authoritative voice.

As the worker lifts the weapon to bring it down on the snake pit, a hand stops him.

And the hand has a copper bracelet on it.

This time the crowd is damn sure that they would not get it wrong! A volcanic eruption of celebration follows as the worker is sent flying into the air by the same hand. A.R.Rahman’s theme music rocks the hall as the hand extends into the snake pit and pulls out the snake!!!!

Superstar Rajinikanth appears on the screen wearing coolers and he kisses the snake on its hood and places it back into the pit!!

I shout and jump and jump and shout and hit my friend and throw the papers and shout and jump and… in short go full crazy!

He smiles at Soundarya who thanks him with folded arms and he looks at Ramya Krishan who though impressed, rudely posses the question “Who are you man..?”

And Superstar answers with the song that goes “Em peru Padayappa…”

:)

Happy Birthday Superstar!

P.S: And Many More Happy Returns of the Day to my Dear 'Dubai' Divya!! I am sure you will read this! :))

Evano Oruvan

2007-12-09T16:36:00.000Z

The alarm clock appears in sharp focus and a family asleep nearby gets blurred. The alarm goes out loudly and it is 5 in the morning. Shreedar Vasudevan wakes up and slowly nudges his wife. He takes bath. His wife prepares potato curry in the kitchen. He patiently stands in the queue outside his house for their share of metro water. He wears his shoes. He gets ready to office. He kisses bye to his little daughter. He takes a train from Palavanthangal to Beach Station. He walks from station to the office. He checks the cash and verifies accounts. He eats his lunch which comprises of curd rice and pickle. He checks the cash and verifies accounts in the afternoon. He drinks tea in a roadside tea shop and watches a mute boy draw on the pavement with colored chalk pieces. He gets back to work. He takes a train back from Beach Station to Palavanthangal. He feeds dinner to his daughter. He teaches her to chew food properly before swallowing. The family goes to sleep. The clock shows 11 in the night.

The alarm clock appears in sharp focus and a family asleep nearby gets blurred…

For the next 3-4 minutes, this entire sequence of events is repeated again and again, with the background score slowly mounting, each frame flashing across the screen faster than the previous time it appeared, until it reaches a point where all that the viewer gets to see is a blur of activities. The BGM reaches a crescendo and the screen goes blank without a warning, engulfing the theatre in a deafening silence.

The wordings “Evano Oruvan” slowly appear in white on the black screen as the theatre flares up in whistles, cat calls and claps.

Leukos Productions “Evano Oruvan” is a story about a man-next-door Chennai-ite. Just like most of us he goes through a routine unglamorous cycle of work and family. But unlike you and me he doesn’t turn a blind eye or a deaf ear to the ugly incidents that pervade our lives. He does not take events in his stride but wonders aloud what could be the reason for his wife insisting on a separate tuition for his son when the same teacher tutors him at school. He is bemused that a client gets a bank loan sanctioned without submitting the proper documents. He is aghast when the school demands a donation of Rs.35000 for admitting his brilliant daughter. He smiles wryly when a colleague suggests him to stop living with his “fixed deposit” and enjoy life by opening a “current account”. He picks a verbal duel with the guy who supplies metro water for demanding a bribe of Rs.100 in spite of paying the monthly rent.

He complains and fumes and complains and fumes. But he can do only that. Alas, he does not posses the ability to turn into a weirdo in black outfits with curly hair covering his face, uttering slogas, riding buffaloes and frying wrong-doers in boiling oil. That happens in films not in real life.

So what happens when this mounting angst against the society culminates in a roadside shop when a shopkeeper refuses to part away with Rs.2 that does not belong to him, and what happens henceforth is what forms the rest of the story.

A film on one man going on a mission in ridding the society of its ugly scars is nothing new to Tamil cinema. A host of movies have done that. Then in what way does “Evano Oruvan” differ from them? Here too is a man who is unhappy at the unscrupulous ways of the world. But unlike the cinema hero he does not execute an aura of machismo. He does not look into the camera and deliver practiced dialogues without batting eyelids. He keeps fuming, letting out only vapors. So when the volcano erupts he is just reacting to the situation. Of course the events that occur after he erupts are not common place but nevertheless they are believable. Realism is the word. The audience are not forced to employ the “suspension of disbelief” which is what watching a film has become these days. You never had to do that once while watching Sathyajit Ray’s “Pather Panchali”.

Without wasting any more words let me say this. Go watch the movie if you really have an interest in watching serious movies. If you are looking for nice, feel good, entertainment you better give this a skip lest you feel frustrated like the bunch of guys who sat behind me, passing idiotic comments.

But all I could do was sit and fume inside. Luckily before the volcano could erupt and I found myself giving a piece of my mind to the morons, the curtains came down.

Awaiting - Evano Oruvan

2007-12-05T17:46:00.000Z

Right from the day I saw the publicity hoarding near the Gemini flyover months ago, I wanted to watch this movie. I don't know exactly, but the image and the title seemed to be intriguing and it caught my attention. Pretty soon with the help of Google I came to know that it was a remake of the acclaimed Marathi original "Dombivli fast" by the same director Nishikanth Kamat. It very much promises to be a meaningful movie - a rarity in Tamil cinema. The last time I went with great expectations, to what seemed to be a meaningful and insightful movie was "Katradhu Tamil". It turned out to be a damp squib.

But my expectations from "Evano Oruvan" grew manifolds the day Sudhish Kamath wrote this article after watching the premiere show. And today I listened to this podcast of the interview Sudhish had with Maddy. It is a candid interview but the sound quality is slightly poor given the fact that he has recorded it with his mobile phone. But it was audible when listened to using a earphone instead of the speakers. I guess you would need Quick time player installed in your machine to listen to it.

Even before I listened to the interview later in the day, I had booked the tickets for this movie. It was the first thing I did after brushing my teeth today morning!!

It is movie, as Sudhish points out in the interview, that deals with reality rather than providing the audience an opportunity to escape reality.

So, my rendezvous with reality will be this Saturday. 4'o Clock show. Sathyam Cinemas.

Rage

2007-11-25T16:58:00.000Z

“I will give you the money for sure next time. Now stop shitting around and give me that goddamned bottle will you” he yelled at the woman in the toddy shop.

An old man, squatting in a corner, looked up half dreamily. Shaking his head, he cursed everybody in general, someone in particular and continued to gulp down the contents of his bottle. He seemed happy and angry at the same time.

Sitting amidst the liquor bottles, Haseena wiped her face with a green towel which she flung back on her bosom. She leaned forward, spat two streams of thick red beetle juice with practiced ease and inclined back against her pillow.

Dressed shabbily in a tattered brown pant that had long forgotten its original white color and an orange shirt with a few patches of dying red, Imam looked around. The place was filled with men having their share of ecstasy while he stood there deprived of one.

“What’s the matter with you bitch? Why don’t you trust…” before he could complete the sentence, Haseena grabbed a bottle by its neck and flung it in his direction with all her might. Imam ducked in time, saving himself a battered bloodied face as the white bottle hit the wall behind him and burst into a riot of colorless glass pieces.

“You call me a bitch again; I will have that niggly-wiggly thing of yours cut off you bastard. The next time you step out of your house fill your pockets before you loiter in this direction. Now get going lest I crack your skull. I don’t miss twice….” she breathed fire.

Shocked at her rage and bemused at her logic of smashing a bottle of toddy and daring to risk another but not lending him one, Imam stared blankly. He scratched his 5 day stubble and then his unruly hair and then his crotch before slowly starting to walk home. He walked past the squatting old man when the latter broke into a fit of uncontrolled laughter. He laughed till he had tears in his eyes which ultimately made the threatening image of Imam standing in front of him look very blurry. He rubbed his eyes and looked again. This time he saw clearly; a hand drew back and before long was coming at him with full force. When it landed on his jaw, he lurched back and banged his head against the wall and fell flat on his face, giving out a feeble muffled laugh before blackness descended. Imam spat on his face and continued to walk with renewed rage, unaware of the blood dripping from the old man’s nose.

The dingy street where his shanty belonged was bustling with life as Imam walked into it. The clanging and banging noises from the workshops reverberated across the street. Riyaz the welder put down his welding gun and ran out of his workshop on seeing Imam walk past. “Imam bhai…our Sajeth here says that you have been fired… is that true…Imam Bhai…fuck that paper mart…fuck that owner...Allah is great Imam bhai…don’t you worry”. Imam continued walking, his bare feet hurrying past on the dusty road. A nude boy with a stick in one hand and a cycle tire in front, ran feverishly past him followed by his semi nude sister.

Old hags sat on wooden stools and pulled out lice from the heads of their grandsons, granddaughters, daughters and sons; in short, anyone willing to lend their heads. Men and children watched movies in the new color TV donated by the government. Pictures of political leaders long dead adorned the mud walls of the huts. Women were washing their clothes in small slabs of concrete. Imam muttered foul words under his breath when a few drops of soap water got into his eyes. Rubbing his eyes he paid little attention to the feces lying on the roadside and ended up stepping on it. “Badmash…Badmash…” he cried out loud and rubbed his filthy foot on the garbage pile strewn nearby.

He walked again, his mind filled with images of the paper mart owner shouting obscenities at him, spitting on his face before catching him by the collar and throwing him onto the streets. He had pleaded his innocence and ignorance about the missing money. He had begged catching his leg and ended up getting kicked repeatedly on the head by the other leg. He suddenly touched his head and felt the mud particles in his hair. He spat on the roadside and continued walking. Son of a bitch. And then that Haseena. That whore of a woman who wouldn’t give him a bottle of toddy. Did that have something to do with him being fired? “News travels fast” he thought. And what was that remark on cutting off his niggly-wiggly thing. Hadn't she remarked immediately that anyway it was of no use? Had she really told that or was he hallucinating?

She might have told. 2 years since marriage and not a child to call his own. The streets had already been rife with the rumors of his impotency. He looked at the woman standing near the electric transformer. Did she laugh at him? Did she mock him? Did she think about him as a weakling?

Spat on the face
Thrown on the streets
Kicked on the head
Attacked by a woman
Mocked by an old man
Soap water in his eyes
Mud on his head
Shit on his leg

Rage frothed in his internal organs. Anger blazed in his eyes. Frustration ran through his blood vessels. How shabbily people treated him. Like a worm. Like a fart. Like a piece of shit that he just stepped on. He muttered and cursed and then suddenly remembered smashing that old man. And he instantly felt better. He stopped and recollected that incident again. The image of that wretched old man banging his head on the wall and falling on his face played vividly in his mind. He felt the excitement. And suddenly he felt all powerful.

He was not weak. He was no worm. He was no fart. He was no shit. He was Imam.

Imam the powerful.

He pulled out a beedi from behind his ear and lit it. He did not need liquor to feel better. He had something at home which would make him more happy and powerful than a bottle of toddy. He picked up a iron rod lying outside a workshop and walked energetically towards his run down shackle where his mute wife Zeenath waited eagerly for his arrival…

…to announce her pregnancy.

Vanessa Mae - Contradanza

2007-11-14T18:27:00.001Z

Click To Play

Listen to the song that invigorated me out of my bed in the middle of the night to write the previous post. A masterpiece by Vanessa Mae from her album "The Violin Player". The overwhelming joy in the music is awesome. The song was on a loop in my player and I guess it would have done more than 20 loops by the time I finished writing the post.

Of course the post can do no justice to the music.

Do check it out.

Oh! Boy...

2007-11-13T18:47:00.000Z

He springs out as the sliding glass doors close behind him. The security guard watches as he zooms past him in his bike, smiling and waving. He smiles at the little boy on the road. He looks up and winks at the girl sitting near the window of the bus. He drums his fingers on the petrol tank. He shakes his head in rhythm. He looks in the mirror and ruffles his hair. With the signal on red he accelerates on neutral. He moves his body left and right. Left and right. Gracefully. Still in Red. He smiles. He accelerates. Green. He engages the first gear and lets go of the clutch. Front wheel in the air. Black bike in motion. A few girls stop and watch. A boy on one wheel. Traffic cop watches as he brings it back on the road and speeds ahead.

Wind on his face. A cut here and a cut there. Next signal. Wheels stop. He turns left and smiles at the autorickshaw driver. Turns right and smiles at the businessman in the back of the limousine. He smiles at the guys moving past him mouthing bad words. They point fingers to the signal. He looks and laughs. It had turned green long back. He blasts again.

The apartment watchman opens the gate as he honks. Smiles and honks. Honks and smiles. Side stand not fully engaged. The bike falls. He climbs the stairs. Three steps up and two steps down. Three steps up and two steps down. A terrified grandmother on the stairs. She watches as the boy blows her a kiss and runs up the steps.

The door closes behind him. Shoes fly to one corner and the bag to the other. The tossed shirt misses the bed and the pant lands on the dining table.

In the shower. Soap bar turns into an invisible mike. He breaks into a song. A crow flies off from the tree nearby.

Out in his bedroom. Wet feet slip on the marble floor. Spreads his arms. Stretches his legs. Symphony blares from the player. He pulls out his towel and swings it over his head. Round and round and round. A jig here and a jig there. A born dancer.

Eyes fall on his cell phone. Picks it up. A single message in his inbox.

“YES” she had said.

Kisses the screen. Swings his towel over his head. Round and round and round.

A jig here and a jig there.

He dances stark naked.

Frisbee

2007-10-28T17:55:00.000Z

The water splashed under his bare feet as Raghav ran in the sluggish lawn taking giant strides. With a huge leap he piloted into the air and caught the Frisbee and did a somersault before crashing and rolling on the damp ground. A thick soggy mass of soil had spattered on his face and chest. Frodo gave out a loud “Woof!” Akshay just could not believe what he saw. He shrieked with joy and bolted across the meadow in the mild drizzle and threw himself on his father before he could get back on his feet. Raghav fell back as Akshay positioned himself on his chest just like they do in the wrestling matches.

“Dad! How did you do that? That was so fantastic! You were unbelievable”
“Thank you smarty pants! I used to be better in my college days”
“You played Frisbee in your college?”
Raghav burst out laughing. “No Sonny. I used to be the captain of our college Rugby team. Such kinds of rumble and tumble were my bread and butter in those days”
“I too will be a Rubky player when I grow up”
“It is Rugby dear!” he pushed Akshay to the sides and got up when a huge bolt of lightening cracked in the leaden sky above.

“Raghav. Akshay. Get back home both of you” Sumi called out from the Kitchen.
“Don’t worry Honey. We have just finished our drizzle Frisbee. Looks like its time now for the next round of rain Frisbee” said Raghav winking at Akshay who grinned at him and started running after Frodo who ran amok with the Frisbee in its mouth!

With his hand holding the railings of the window, Sanjay stood on his toes and watched silently as a father and son played a game of Frisbee in the lawn next door. He slowly released his grip and walked back to his cupboard and pulled out his yellow Frisbee. Clutching it tightly against his chest he walked past his little sister playing with her Barbie, to the kitchen. Soumya was busy preparing snacks for her kids when she felt the pull of her saree. She turned and looked down.

“Mommy, shall we go out and play Frisbee in our lawn?”
“Sanjay. Put that back and go finish your homework”
“I finished Mommy. Shall we play Frisbee in our lawn?”
“Then go and play Barbie with Teju, don’t disturb Mommy”
“I don’t want to play silly Barbie. I want to play Frisbee in the lawn” wailed Sanjay and started hitting his mother on her arms with the Frisbee.
Soumya grabbed it from him and flung it across.

Sanjay let out a huge cry when it landed in the kitchen attic cutting through the cobwebs. He heard it hit a metal plate inside the attic.

A terrified Teju with fear in her eyes and hands clasping her pink Barbie wobbled across and latched on to her mother and watched her brother cry.

“Stop it Sanjay” Soumya sounded stern.
Teju tightened her grip on her mother.
“Why don’t you want to play with me?” cried Sanjay.
“I can’t play with you Sanju dear. I don’t know to play Frisbee and that too in our open lawn” she said in a in a low voice and walked towards her son with her right arm stretched out.
Sanjay staggered back.
“Where is my Dad?” he sniffed between tears.

Soumya stood rooted to her spot.

“Where is my Dad Mommy? I want him now. I want to play Frisbee with him in the lawn”
“Sanju…”
"I want a Dad Mommy. I want one. I want one. I want one. I want one.” Sanju banged his fists on the kitchen door.

"I want ONE"

“Mommy no cry Mommy. Mommy no cry” whimpered Teju looking up at her mother.

The Ride...

2007-10-27T18:38:00.000Z

Shwetha opened her eyes dreamily as the wooden bird in her clock cooed six times, announcing the time. She pushed aside her spotless white blanket and sat up on the cozy bed. The soft rays of the morning sun streamed through the open window. Shwetha playfully fiddled with her silver anklets as it shone in the sunlight. Her husband Arjun lay next to her on the bed, blissfully asleep.

She stepped out of the bed and stood near the window. The road outside was wet and the grass on the lawn was laden with dew. Fluffy jumped around excitedly playing with his red ball and let out a bark of joy on seeing her. Shwetha watched, as a bird perched on the tree opposite her window cooed calling out to its mate. Water dripped from the edges of the window sill, landing softly on the grass. An old man in a faded jean and a grey sweater swept the dry leaves off the road. She let out a gasp when a brisk rush of cold air caressed her face. Her joy filled eyes fluttered rapidly and rested on Arjun’s bike parked in the garage. It had been almost a year since he took her for a ride on his bike. Of course they went to the sprawling shopping malls and the stylish multiplexes in his brand new car. But it was never the same. He had been never the same.

Shwetha walked back to her bed and sat near Arjun. She caressed his hair softly. In his sleep he brushed her hand aside and turned over to the other side. She bent over him and kissed his ears softly.

“Let me sleep Shwetha” he grumbled.
“Arjun! Wake up!” she said softly.

Arjun pulled his blanket over his head and snuggled with his pillow.

“Arjun! Wake up and have a look outside” she shook him.
“Come on Shwetha. Why do you do this?” he pulled his blanket down and stared at her angrily.
“It has rained last night Arjun. The roads are wet. Leaves are scattered everywhere”

He looked at her blankly.

“The sky is still overcast. The air is clean and cold” she continued
“What do you want me to do?”

“Take me for a ride Arjun. Take me to a far off place. Take me to the mountains. Just you and me”
“Are you crazy Shwetha? I get just one day to relax. I get just one day to sleep for nine hours and you want me to take you for a ride?”

“Look at the weather outside Arjun. It is magical”
“Oh! God! Don’t you ever understand Shwetha? I slog for six days a week, 12 hours a day and you won’t let me have a peaceful Sunday?”

“Take me for a ride Arjun” Shwetha choked on her tears.
“Damn it! What a girl I have for a wife”

“Why do you work so hard Arjun?”
“How else would I get the money? Money for your designer clothes, money for your jewellery, money for the plasma TV, money for the car. Where would I go, if I did not work hard?”

“I never wanted all this Arjun” Shwetha looked into his eyes holding back her tears.
“What else do you want?”

“I just want to ride with you Arjun and watch the world rush by. I want to hug you on the bike as you carry me to a far off place. Far away from all your worries. Far away from all your tensions. You are moving away from me Arjun. I want you back”
“Shwetha…”

“Take me for a ride Arjun” she broke down on her knees…

en thaniyaana payanangal indrudan mudiyaathaa...

2007-10-24T18:54:00.000Z

en vaazhikkaiyil vanthathu moone moonu letter
still i remember my first letter
Prabhaa nee ennai thediruppannu enakku theriyum
naanum ammaavum
inge maharashtra-la
thooraththu maama veetla irukkom
nee varrathukko letter ezhutharathukko
yeththasamayam varappo naa solren

neraththukku saapudu
vaaraththukku moonu naalaavathu kuli
antha socks-a thovachchip podu
nagam kadikkaatha
kadavula vendikko
anandhi

anandhi

paravaiye engu irukkiraai
parakkave ennai azhaikkiraai
thadayangal thedi varugiren anbe

paravaiye engu irukkiraai
parakkave ennai azhaikkiraai
thadayangal thedi varugiren anbe

adi en boomi thodangum idam ethu nee thaane
adi en paathai irukkum idam ethu nee thaane
paarkum thisaigalil yaavum
paavai mugai athu theriya
meengal kaanal neerinil therivathundo
kangal poigal solvathundo
nee potta kadithaththin varigal kadalaaga
athil mithanthene penne naanum padagaaga

paravaiye engu irukkiraai
parakkave ennai azhaikkiraai
thadayangal thedi varugiren anbe

unnodu naanum
pokindra paathai
ithu neelaatho
thodu vaanam polave

kathai pesik konde
vaa kaattrodu povom
uraiyaadal theernthaalum
un mounangal pothum
intha puzhu poondum paravaiyum naamum pothaathaa
ini boologam muzhuthum azhagaai pogaathaa

muthal murai vaazhap pidikkuthe
muthal murai velichcham pirakkuthe
muthal murai murintha kilai onru pookkuthe
muthal murai kathavu thirakkuthe
muthal murai kaatru varuguthe
muthal murai kanavu palikkuthe
anbe

yezhai
kaadhal
malaigal thanil thondrugindra
oru nadhiyaagum
mannil
vizhunthum oru kaayamindri
udaiyaamal
urundodum
nadhi aagida
itho itho intha payanaththile
ithu pothum kanmani
verenna naanum kettpen
pirinthaalum manathile intha nodiyil endrum vaazhven
intha nigazhkaalam ippadiye thaan thodaraathaa
en thaniyaana payanangal indrudan mudiyaathaa

muthal murai vaazhap pidikkuthe
muthal murai velichcham pirakkuthe
muthal murai murintha kilai onru pookkuthe
muthal murai kathavu thirakkuthe
muthal murai kaatru varuguthe
muthal murai kanavu palikkuthe
anbe

anandhi
anandhi
anandh, ooru vandhuruchchunnu ninaikkiren
enga eranganum

On Jeans Pant and Coffee day...

2007-10-24T13:19:00.000Z

Back on popular demand! Yeah, two people had asked for it! ;)

A few days back I had been to Cafe Coffee day in Cenetoph road with a few of my college friends. Of course of course, the guys had managed to find a scapegoat and dragged him there in the name of a (mini) treat!! A little earlier, the main treat was sponsored by another guy in the Dabba Express restaurant across the road.

For a guy like me, used to having Sukku Tea (Elachi Tea), Ingee Tea (Ginger Tea), Lemon Tea and Ginger Lemon tea in a plastic cup in the roadside shop outside my office for Rs.3, the place felt like another planet. I did not have the patience to go through the various varieties of coffee and instead settled for the easiest way out. I just tossed the menu to the guy next to me and asked him to order whatever he liked. Oh yeah, he too went totally blank and finally settled for one based on inki pinki ponky.

And soon enough, all the varieties did arrive and for a moment I was left wondering if I was in an ice cream parlor, for, a couple of coffees, including the one that had been ordered for me, came with a mix of ice cream!!! Coffee and ice cream? Ena kodume saravanan ithu?

I turned to my friend on my left and found him struggling to lift the coffee mug. It was no fault of his, for the coffee mug looked more like a bathroom mug. So huge.

I asked him what he was having.

"International coffee Machi"
"Dei Dubakooru...Kandipa athuku vera oru per irunthirukum. Athe sollu" (For sure there must be a name for it. What's that?)
"Ena karumamo. Yaruku theriyum" (Who the heck knows!)

He took a few sips of it and later offered it to me saying "Kuduchi paru da" ( Give it a try)

"Nalla iruka?" (Is it good?)
"Maga kanraviya iruku da. Nalla iruntha nan en unaku tharen?" (It tastes like crap. Had it been good why would I ever offer you in the first place?)

:D

A few minutes later, in walked a couple of girls. One wore a tight T-shirt and mini skirt and the other was in a T-shirt and a figure hugging jean.

Sigh! :(

I was left wondering whatever happened to the kind of girls I once knew. They wore beautiful chudidhars with duppattas in proper place, applied oil and plaited their hair, decorated it with jasmine flowers, had pottu/bindhi on their forehead. In short, looked divine. They were the kind of girls whom you might have seen in our school tuition days, a decade ago. Theirs was a beauty that was so very elegant and most importantly so very simple that they never looked made up. I remember sitting in the open verandhah of my maths tuition, lost in a trance, with a blank paper without a single solved problem, looking at the angel sitting opposite to me in a yellow chudidhar. I would be the last one to leave the place in my dabba cycle(!), waiting till every cute creature crossed me.

They have now been, more or less, completely replaced by the ones who sport straightened and colored hair. The chudidhars have been replaced by Tees and Jeans. Wherever be the place, Sathyam Cinemas, City Centre, Spencer Plaza, Coffee day, Isphani Plaza, Pizza hut... you will find them. Tees and Jeans. And they all look the same to me.

I do not understand at all. We poor souls do not have much of an option left than for the Tees and Jeans but why on earth would you wear them, when you have the beautiful Salwar Kameez, Chudidhars, beautiful (full length) skirts and a whole lot of other dress materials. Please don't say for its for your convenience sake. I don't understand how convenient you feel to wear a short T-shirt like garment and adjust it every other minute to be sure that it does not move up when you sit down or raise your hands or sit on a bike. And I do not understand how comfortable you feel when most of the guys, right from the middle aged man selling ice cream on the pavement to the teen-aged wastrels roaming on the road stare at you lecherously and pass a comment or two. I don't think you will be needing all these unwarranted attention when you are capable of capturing attention with your dignified presence.

I know it is purely your wish and nobody is going to stop you. I know my views are purely one-sided and I also know I sound like a 80 year old kela bolt cursing the present state of affairs. Whatever be it, I have just said whatever I strongly feel. Call me old school, call me lagging behind or name me a nostalgic moron. I don't care.

I also know I have not talked about the guys who sport lengthy streaked hair styles, guys who visit Bikes and barrels (a pub if you din't know) religiously every Saturday night as if it were the Sunday mass, guys who visit mahabhalipuram with different intentions.

It is because I am a boy and hence concerned only about girls! :D

Okay..now getting back to coffee day, we did manage to finish off whatever they brought us in the name of coffee and finally the bill arrived for 400Rs!

As we came out of the shop, someone cracked "Inthe mathiri "cafes" ellam ponnungellode vare pasangaluku thanda correctu. Namekellam nayar kadai "Chaaya" than rite"

I wouldn't agree more on that.

Dear Akka,

2007-10-22T17:54:00.000Z

Are you aware of my blog? Are you reading it? If so how did you know about it? Ethachum google seach paningala? Did you use terms like "My brother..super writer...sema blogger" and land in my blog??? I am slightly worried now. Yesterday I wrote a post about my dislike for modern dressed babes and my liking for homely figures, but today I pulled it down for some personal reasons. (Thank you, Mani and Priya Iyer for the comments)

But when chatting in yahoo messenger with you 10 minutes ago how did you all of a sudden, out of the blue, ask me if like Rajinikanth I too preferred only homely girls??????????? How come you asked that question suddenly and of all days, today? When asked about it..you asked me not to get suspicious...Aiyayao... I am totally confused. If you do read my blogs...tell me so...by mail that is... I will atleast maintain some standards in my posts!!!

P.S: Nobody can fool me by putting anonymous comments in the name of "Akka". Akka, if at all you decide to leave a comment, leave it in the name that we call you at home!!

Nange intelligentle!

Urs brotherly,
Prasad

Meeting Mani Ratnam...

2007-10-11T17:51:00.000Z

So, there was this Audio Visual Presentation to be done for an exhibition to be held in China next week. For the voice over, Radio Mirchi fame Suchitra (Mirchi Suchi) had been arranged and myself and Babu (my boss) were present in the Alwarpet recording studio, situated right above the famous DVD rental shop - Cinema Paradise, waiting for her to turn up.

Now initially, I had an idea of taking a snap with Suchitra which eventually I dropped considering the fact that she was no big celebrity and all. So while waiting for her, we both got discussing about her when I mentioned that she had acted in Mani Ratnam's movie "Azhutha Eluthu" and went on to add that it was a typical Mani Ratnam movie with his style of dialogues that we are accustomed to.

It was at this juncture that Babu suggested that we go down as he wanted to have a smoke. Getting down the stairs, I found this Black Honda CR-V parked right in front of the DVD shop and a guy with a gun standing next to it. It did not take much time to conclude that a "real" celebrity had come there in that vehicle and he was inside the shop now.

And guessing so, I turned around and looked into the shop to find none other than Mani Ratnam himself!!!!! Oh My GOD! OH MY GOD!! Minutes back I had mentioned his name and discussed about his movie and dialogue style and there he was right inside the shop!! There should be some better and more apt word than "coincidence" which I am not able to think of.

Without hesitation we ripped a couple of papers from Babu's diary and waited for him to come out of the shop. And out he came staring blankly at both of us as we stood smiling at him! Still smiling ear to ear I shook hands with him and asked for his autograph and he obliged.

And this is where I asked him the most talked about question in Tamil Nadu.

"Sir! Adutha padam Superstar kude thane?" (Sir! Isn't you next film with Superstar?")
"Illapa! Illapa!" (No dear No!)

Ok, so now there you heard it from THE MAN himself. So don't believe rumors that my friend Mani is doing a film with Rajinikanth when the magazines say so. Yeah don't believe for Mani himself told me that he is not doing it. I don't know if you are going to copy paste this post, link the post, print the post and handout pamphlets...just do whatever it takes, but do spread the word that my friend Mani's next movie is not with Rajinikanth. Okay?

Okay, then I had this snap taken standing with him with Babu's N70 before he got into his car and sped away. I was too thrilled with all this that I hardly noticed Radio Mirchi Suchitra walking past me on her way to the studio! She was wearing a grey T-shirt and a three fourth pant (caprice?) and walked like a keyed up doll. We followed her to the studio and finished off the recording portion. I was still thinking about Mani Ratnam when Babu suddenly introduced me to her, he went like "Suchitra, this is my colleague Hari and he is a fan of yours!! Can we have your autograph?" FAN??? Hahaha! She herself seemed to be pleasantly shocked to hear all this that she blessed me in her autograph which read "God Bless, Suchitra". And though I never again thought about it, Babu wanted me to pose with her when she went like "Oh! But I have a boil on my cheek, ok let me pose sidewards!!"

Hahahahahaha!

Ok and that is the story of how Suchi excitedly stood and took a snap with me while I excitedly stood and took a snap with Mani Ratnam.

My excitement is understandable, after all it is not everyday that you get a chance to rub shoulders and share a frame with India's best director whose movie "Nayagan", features in
TIME magazine's "All time 100 best movies" list.

;)

...and the Lover's kiss variety!!

2007-10-01T05:08:00.000Z

We all might be aware of the assortment of lighting devices created by man to brighten up the world he lives in. They come in various shapes and sizes and differ in their luminosity starting from a zero watt bulb to the ones that are used to illuminate a stadium in a day-night match.

But today on my way back home from office, driving my bike, my mind was preoccupied with nature’s wonderful ways of lighting up a dark night sky. Forget the multitudinous stars and forget the radiance of the moon. The flash of lightning that brightens up the whole wide dark canvas for seconds is what fascinated me all of a sudden. And the reason was, there I was, right atop the Gemini fly over, surrounded by a whole lot of flashy lights in various colors coming from the vehicles, buildings and brightly lit up hoardings that tower over the flyover, when a stunningly beautiful artistic piece of lightning flared across the sky right in front of my eyes! I let out a loud “WOW!!” It was brilliantly breathtaking.

I have seen lightning that light up the sky in the way a tube light does when it starts. On Off On Off On Off. The problem with "Tube light" variety is that there are plain dull and boring with no sound effects and so don’t carry any excitement. They usually appear before the rains. Then there are the ferocious ones that send a shudder shooting down your spine faster than the lightning itself! These are high voltage ones that ignite the wick of fear in us by their savage force and luminosity. If you are not frightened even after seeing them, then they make sure your internals quiver like jelly cakes with the sound of thunder that resonates across the skies.

I had a very recent, absolutely scary experience with this "grave digging" variety when I stepped out of office with a colleague for a tea in the shop outside. It was around eight in the night and the moment we reached the shop a torrent came crashing from the skies as if someone had unzipped the bag containing them. Within minutes water was rushing from all places, trees were swaying uncontrollably in the gale and lightning was striking all around us with brute force.

There we were; a small group of people huddled under a blue tarpaulin cover of the tea shop just a couple of feet away from a massive tree. I shall never forget that day for the absolute fear I felt standing there with the rains lashing, high voltage powerful lightning striking relentlessly left, right and centre and the sound of thunder echoing all around with just a stupid blue tarpaulin cover over my head. The presence of the massive tree added to my woes. I was literally wondering if death would be immediate or otherwise if one landed right on my head. Luckily I survived that night to tell you this!

Ok now coming back, we have till now discussed two types of lightning. The stupid boring "Tube light" variety and the ferocious "grave digging" variety accompanied by murderous sounds. What I saw today, from atop the flyover was the third kind. This had a poetic flavor, artistic touch and aesthetic beauty attached to it. I would like to call it the “Lover’s kiss” variety!

Just like a shy girl walking slowly behind her boy friend’s back and giving him a quick kiss on his cheek and bolting across the room before he lustfully grabs her, this lightning arrives silently, kisses the sky without a sound and leaves sans a trace plunging the sky back into a sense of gloom. Though the sound might be absent the visual is striking. No, I am not taking about the visual of the girl kissing the boy; I am taking about the lightning. It spreads itself in the form of veins across the dark blue sky. The color of this lightning having a tinge of violet makes it all the more alluring. No amount of words and paragraphs can capture the true essence of the grand spectacle that unfolded before my eyes atop the flyover.

So the next time the wind blows and the clouds roll over just kept a watch…who knows you might experience the lover's kiss!!

Happy watching!

Warning : “Happy watching” was intended only for “lover’s kiss” variety. Don’t try this with the “grave digging” variety. You might never see the world again!

When time froze...

2007-09-24T18:29:00.001Z

Picture courtesy: cricinfo.com

4 balls. Pakistan need 6 runs to win.

The bowler charges in towards the wicket even as the batsman scuffles across. The ball leaves his arm and hurtles towards the awaiting bat. The right handed batsman scoops it towards deep fine leg wanting it to clear the boundary. The camera follows the ball. The whole cricketing world follows through. It rises into the air soaring like a phoenix. The crowd is on its feet in the background.

Time freezes.

The ball is stuck in the air awaiting its destiny. The course it takes from this moment determines the fate of two teams. The fate of two nations; two nations for whom cricket in just another form of a war. Two nations on the verge of redemption for the world cup debacle of exiting in the first stage. Clearing the rope it would lead to an anti-climax for the billions of Indians and falling into the hands of a fielder would break the hearts of millions of Pakistanis.

A whole stadium is one its feet. An entire nation stops breathing…

I just can’t recollect what all emotions I went through and what antics I performed as I sat in my office cafeteria with colleagues watching the closing stages of the finals of the Twenty20 world cup. One moment it was sheer ecstasy and the very next our spirits were down in the dumps. Never remember experiencing such roller coaster of an emotional ride watching a cricket match.

Today morning when the news reporter said that “this match is going to go down to the wire and this match is not for the weak hearted” I almost choked on my breakfast. What the hell? How can she be so sure about this? And by golly every single word of hers turned out to be true.

Cruising home for a comfortable victory, the Indians were given a rude shock in the 17th over as Misbah-ul-Haq took the fight right into the enemy camps. He smashed 3 sixes of a Harbajan over. Our guys in the cafeteria, who had whistled, hooted, clapped and what not, stood and watched as if struck by a lightening. It was turning to be an anti-climax. The asking rate for Pakistan dropped drastically and they were clawing back their way into a game which we had till then comfortable assumed, belonged to us.

I felt like strangulating Harbajan. Before his over Pakistan needed 54 runs off 24 balls and after that nighmare of an over, it boiled down to 35 runs off 18 balls. Sreesanth’s next over started of with a six as Sohail Tanveer carted him over long on boundary. The penultimate ball of the over too went over the ropes of the square leg boundary. Sreesanth uprooted Sohails off stump with a yorker of the last ball of his spell, but the damage was already done.

Pakistan needed 20 runs from 12 balls.

Rudra Pratap Singh took over.

With the first 4 balls going only for 3 runs, Pakistan started feeling the pressure. They needed a huge hit and Umar Gul tried to provide one but in the process lost his leg stump to an yorker from RP Singh. Mohammad Asif arrived at the crease and promptly dispatched Singh’s last ball to the third man boundary.

13 runs needed from 6 balls.

I tried and controlled an excessive urge to rush to the restroom to relieve myself as I watched the final over by Joginder Sharma.

Misbah-ul-Haq smashed the second delivery of the over into the crowd for a six.

6 runs from 4 balls. 1 wicket remaining.

Joginder Sharma charges towards the wicket even as Misbah-ul-Haq scuffles across. The ball leaves his arm and hurtles towards the awaiting bat. Misbah scoops it towards deep fine leg wanting it to clear the boundary. The whole cricketing world follows through as it soars into the air like a phoenix.

The ball is stuck in the air awaiting its destiny

Frozen time thaws…

The ball drops in altitude, the camera follows through, a player in blue rushes in and the balls lands in his safe hands.

Hearts start beating again. Breathing resumes. Realization dawns.

India wins the Twently20 world championship!!!

HIP HIP HURRAY!

Jai Hind!

Setting up your own...

2007-09-10T02:00:00.000Z

When you love books there is nothing like the joy of setting up your own collection. A column of books, neatly stacked up and tucked away in the corner of a room gives a unique sense of delight in addition to the aura it creates. Personal copies are a pleasure. But collections are not raised overnight. It takes time and effort to establish one, for there is no fun in running to the huge bookstore across the street and bagging yourself all the books in the bestsellers column. And there is no point in spending huge money when more economical options are available.

By economical options, I do not mean the ubiquitous pirated copies. I have started to detest the very sight of these books in which, right from the paper quality to the print quality “cheapness” dribbles. It is the same like getting a pirated copy of a movie from the roadside vendor. But with the movies at least there is a chance of getting hold of copies that are almost as good as the original if you know the right guy in Burma bazaar – the mecca of pirated dvds/cds in Chennai. I confidently say this for I recently purchased copies of “Cinema Paradiso” and “12 Angry Men”; movies of excellent print quality for one-tenth of the price. But this could never be the case with a book. A duplicate version could never ever stand up to the original. And this is where second hand book shops come into the picture.

Stacked from the floor to the ceiling, these second hand bookshops are a boon to the book lovers. On my way to Anna Nagar, I chanced upon this small shop in a street in Choolaimedu. Drawn towards it I entered the shop and I will never regret it. For in the last 3 occasions when I have visited that little shop I have bought Khushwanth Singh’s Autobiography “Truth, love and a little malice” and his “Train to Pakistan”, Mahatma Gandhi’s “The story of my experiments with truth”, Robert Kiyosaki’s “Rich Dad Poor Dad” and the recent bestseller, Khaled Hosseini’s “The Kite Runner” all at great prices and excellent conditions. The best part was I even got a 10% discount for becoming a regular customer. (Okay not really! I befriended the girl in the shop!) If not for second hand bookshops like these, where else would you get a original edition of “The Kite Runner” in superb condition for 75Rs while the new edition costs you 285Rs.( The duplicate copies sell at 80Rs)

And the other day, I was pleasantly surprised to find one of the roadside sellers in Mount Road selling old books. If not sheer luck what else could have got me a copy of the hardbound American edition of Lee Iacocca’s Autobiography for a mere 40Rs!! A reader’s digest special book that commemorated the 75th year of publication by putting together a collection of the best articles and jokes was mine for 10Rs!!

I searched the web for more such shops in chennai and inadvertently ended up reading about Nalini Chettur’s legendary little shop “Giggles” in the Taj Connemara complex. The shop was set up 32 years ago by Nalini Chettur and she seems to be one the most knowledgeable and erudite person in the literary circle. Guys and girls had heaped praises on the shop and its owner. There were even mentions of the ever obliging shop assistant Venkatesan! “The Hindu” had carried an article about this small shop in one of its editions of “The Literary review”.

Now here was a legendary shop at 5 minutes walk able distance from my office and I had never known about it! The very same evening found me at the “Giggles” but it was a slight disappointment to hear from Venkatesan that the shop going through a restacking process. I only got to stand at the entrance of this shockingly small shop as the entire shop was filled with mountains of books. And moreover it was not a second hand bookshop but a normal book shop that also sold very rare books not normally found in most of the other huge bookstores in the city. I left the place promising a visit the coming week.

And now for the most prized book in my possession.

Two days back, I came across a bookshop in the road opposite to Kodambakkam railway station. After going through the stuff in display I was almost about to leave when my eyes fell on a hardbound original American edition of Dan Brown’s blockbuster novel “The Da Vinci Code”. At 25 US dollars the new edition would have burned a hole for more than 1000Rs in my pocket, even with the deflated value of the dollar.

I bought it for one-fourth the price!

A mild drizzle dampens the lawn outside, water trickles down the wall-high glass panes over looking the garden and a cool breeze sails through the house. An old man decrepit with age, wobbles across the hallway and stops near the fireplace and looks loving at his massive bookshelf. Photographs of long dead family members and friends line the wall adjacent to the shelf. With effort he pulls out a carefully maintained copy of a novel titled “Train to Pakistan”. He scratches his old head and tries hard to remember when and where he bought it but gives up as old age has erased most of his memories. He doesn’t remember much about the novel either expect for that it dealt with the Partition of India. He pulls up his arm chair and sits near the fire place.

The fire crackles behind him, keeping the lonely soul warm in the cold night but he is already lost in another world… blissfully.

Hope...

2007-08-30T16:34:00.001Z

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Seven social sins: politics without principles, wealth without work, pleasure without conscience, knowledge without character, commerce without morality, science without humanity, and worship without sacrifice.
-Mahatma Gandhi

In a shocking incident showing how immune our politicians have become to the needs and miseries of the people who actually vote them to power, a four year old girl child lost her life when the ambulance carrying her got stuck in the traffic deadlock in Shimla.

The reason -- BJP and Congress workers were fighting it out on the roads blocking the traffic. The child who was being taken to hospital for high temperature died due to the delay in reaching the hospital.

On Wednesday, both BJP and Congress had organised parallel rallies outside the Himachal Pradesh assembly at Simla. Workers of both the parties had gathered in large numbers, but the overzealous supporters turned violent as both of them wanted to hold a rally at the same place.

The members of both the parties started pelting stones at each other. Traffic was blocked on the road for hours and despite the presence of senior BJP leaders and Himachal Chief Minister Virbhadra Singh himself, no one tried to resolve the issue.

The police were too busy lathi charging the workers to take note of the ambulance stuck in the traffic jam.

The appeals of the boy's mother to let the ambulance pass fell on deaf ears and the police and the workers remained unmoved. When the child finally reached hospital, his beleaguered parents were told by the doctors that they were fifteen minutes too late.

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I've seen and met angels wearing the disguise of ordinary people living ordinary lives. They are called Teachers. - Tracy Chapman

A week before Teacher's Day is celebrated in India, a lady teacher of well-known girls school in the Capital is in the limelight for all the wrong reasons.

A sting operation conducted by a Hindi news channel exposed Uma Khurana, a Mathematics teacher at the Government Sarvodaya Kanya Vidyalaya at Aruna Asaf Ali Marg in New Delhi, a lady teacher who made pornographic films of students on the pretext of tutoring them.

The channel expose showed how the teacher forced students into prostitution and pornography.

The teacher allegedly drugged the students and later filmed them in compromising positions. She then used the films to blackmail students and force them into prostitution. The scam came to light after a private channel aired a sting operation on the teacher. The shock and furore over the incident has boiled over onto the streets of the capital. After fresh reports of violence at Asif Ali Road, angry parents have blocked the road outside the school.

The erring teacher has been suspended and further investigations are on.

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If you judge people, you have no time to love them.
-Mother Teresa

On Tuesday, gory images of police brutality in the Bihar town of Bhagalpur shocked the country and triggered mob violence in the communally sensitive town.

It all started on Monday morning when an angry mob of local residents began thrashing a suspected thief in the Nath Nagar area for chain snatching.

While the chain was recovered sometime later, the irate mob – bent on lynching the thief, Salim – continued to bash him up.

Shockingly, the residents were encouraged and even helped by the local police. Together, they continued to thrash Salim on the streets of Bhagalpur, in full public view, for three hours.

Salim was tied to a policeman's motorcycle and dragged around town, leaving him critically ill in a hospital.

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You must not lose faith in humanity. Humanity is an ocean; if a few drops of the ocean are dirty, the ocean does not become dirty.

-Mahatma Gandhi
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I really hope so...

Note: I acknowledge the fact that the material above has been culled form news websites Times Now and IBN Live and therefore are their property.

Thats the Spirit...

2007-08-20T17:10:00.000Z

The two walk up to the counter. One waits while the other stands in the queue

“Four tickets. Chak De India. Tomorrow Evening Show”

He collects the tickets and the balance money and moves out of the counter.

“Hey!”
“What da?”
“Hold this. Just check how many tickets he has given me”
“Hmm.. Four tickets da”
“How much does a ticket cost?”
“Rs.120”
“So four tickets…”
“Two twos are four, Two threes are six, Two fours are…”
“Dart! Four eighty, donkey”
“Two fours are Four eighty?”
“Bird brain. One twenty fours are four eighty”
“That was quick da! So what is the problem now”
“I gave him Rs.500”
“…Oh! God.. I will run back and collect the remaining twenty”
“Hold on you nitwit…he has already given me Rs.260”
“Oh….”

Devilish grin spreads wide on his face.

“He has taken the money for two tickets and given us four!!”
“What shall we do now?”
“Since we were the ones who came all the way to the theatre to book the tickets, we get to see the movie for free while those jackasses shell out one twenty each. Buhahahahaha!!”
“Boooohuuuuuuhahahahaa!!!”
“Shut up! That tiny tot over there has urinated in fear”

Daylight dies out and the dark night crawls out. He is fast asleep in the comforts of his AC room.

It gets hotter. Beads of sweat erupt on his forehead. He wakes up.
Smoke and fumes everywhere. A large vessel brimming with boiling oil stands near by. He shouts but only the meek and feeble voice of an old man comes out. He is a man of eighty four now. He goes into a fit of coughing as the smoke get into his eyes and nose. He cries out in agony.

A man dressed in mythological costumes appears before him.

“Gupta. ChitraGupta” he introduces himself.
The old man watches with fear as Gupta pulls out a Sony Vaio and keys in the information.

He takes a deep breath and starts “You have lived a righteous live indeed but there resides a small black dot over here” He points to the display screen. The red eyed old man, wipes the tears flowing down his cheeks and stares at the screen.
“Yeah! That’s because the screen is dirty. Clean it properly Chithu!”
“Shuuut upp! This dot is a black mark in your character”
The old man stares at the dot again. A foot note appears. It is indexed August 20, 2007 – Sathyam Theatre, Chennai.

He scratches his head in bewilderment. Gupta starts again “Sixty years ago, you were involved in the crime of cheating the theatre.”
“What theatre? What crime?”
“Don’t lie. I have everything recorded. Chak De India! Shah Rukh Khan. Don’t you remember?”
“Err..hmm…No.. I don’t”
“A bunch of girls in tight T-shirts and short skirts playing hockey…” continued Gupta.
“Oh! Yeah yeah yeah…hahaha..oh..they were hot weren’t they!”
“There you go. So you remember that day. You took the change back though you knew it did not belong to you”
“Hey..er..hey..Gulp…but it was his mistake…he gave me the money”
“That is no excuse. You should have returned it”
“What are you going to do?”
“Bath you in perfumed water”
“Oh really? How about a massage”
“In your dreams. One kick, you fly across and land into that big vessel of boiling oil”
“No.No.No. This is atrocious. This is cheating. Boiling water for two tickets?”
“This is the law of Garudapuranam”
“Bahhhahahahawww!! But why only me? That bird brained dumbo too was with me. He too watched the movie for free. Only the other two guys paid the full amount. Why only me? Why only me? Why not him?”

“Did you see that big vessel of oil there?”
“Yeah”
“But did you see any logs beneath it? What is it that is lying there that the flames lick up so greedily?”

In the blazing fire he slowly recognized the shape lying there.
“Nooooooooooo”
“Yessssssss!” shouts Gupta and lands a kick behind him that sends him flying towards the vessel of oil.

He wakes up with a jolt.

Next day…

“What do you mean? You got four tickets for the price of two? Man!! That was great! You guys are terrific. What makes both of you guys even more terrific is that while you could have hidden the fact from us and enjoyed the movie for free, you told the truth and shared the profit with us.”

“Yeah Man! Whatever it be…We like to share it with you guys da! I just want to be sure you too are involved in this”
“Involved in what?”
“Er..involved in the happiness of seeing the movie for half the price”
“Oh!! Hehehe.. Sure man. One twenty rupee tickets! The seats would be big right”
“Im not sure about the seats man, but the vessel was really big. It would definetly hold the four of us”
“What was that? Come again”
“Forget it…”

Jai Hind!

2007-08-15T01:00:00.000Z

Violence against women and the elderly, rape, female infanticide, eve teasing, ethnic cleansing, communal riots, terrorist attacks, suicide bombers, flesh trade, child pornography, organ trade, corruption... a long list lady...a very long list. Hope it does not take long for the day to arrive, when you are rid of all these and the many more evils that plague your body.

A day when the world goes crazy in a mad scramble to get a Visa... to India, the Developed Nation.

Jai Hind!

My First Podcast!!

2007-08-08T17:14:00.000Z

Click To Play

Hi Guys! This is my first attempt at Podcasting!! I am really very excited about this. I have been for some time now trying to understand the nuts and bolts of podcasting. It is truly a wonderful and amazing medium just like blogging. But I don't really know if it as easy as blogging for this involes recording of your voice, mixing it up the way you want it, converting into a mp3 format, hosting it on a site and linking it to your blog. But as I guess most things are tough the first time you do them.

So here is just a silly small podcast of mine.I had no clue of what to record and so came up with this! Beware, I sound totally funny or rather stupid even in the few words that I say in this, but anyways I hope that is because it is the first time! If this works out and people are able to hear me, then maybe I will try and produce some better stuff henceforth!

Cheers!

Update: My blood test results were normal. Nothing serious. I did not test positive for HIV virus as a concerned friend asked over phone ;)

The Blood Test

2007-08-07T17:29:00.000Z

W
ith the cough that has been plaguing me for the past couple of days showing no signs of dying out, I had to visit the doctor today after returning from office. The clinic being very near to my home I walked the distance. Doing the regular checkup with his stethoscope the doc took my right wrist in his hand and checked for the pulse. He looked at me for a few seconds with a bewildered face. What? Is the pulse there or not? Releasing my hand, he jotted down the prescription and said though the medicines would be sufficient to bring me back to normalcy he would still like to have me take a blood test. My increased pulse rate was making him to suspect the presence of an infection.

Kanna! Panninga than blood test eduka kootama varum. Singam... Singila than varum!!

Placing his prescriptions and the blood test recommendation slip in my pocket I walked further down to the lab. Now this is were things get slightly messy. Fully aware of damaging my macho image (!!), I openly announce that I am totally scared of blood! This red liquid, by nature, should be inside my body. I am perfectly fine as long as it stays there. The trouble starts only when somebody straps a black band around my arm, injects a sharp needle inside the bulging nerve and sucks out a few milliliters of it . (Phew! I had a tough time even typing the above sentence. I was squirming in my seat!!). When in school I have had experiences where I have gone dizzy after watching blood gather fast inside the syringe. My dad had to buy me cool drinks to make me stable again!

All this was running in my mind when I reached the lab. I placated myself saying that those days I was a little boy, now I was a 24 year old. Though that never actually put me to ease I tried to believe it. The lab assistant approached me needle in hand. I turned away and stared at the open road when he took my right arm in his custody. The problem with having an imaginative mind is that, it shows images in your mind that are far worse than what is actually going on. So there I was, staring blankly at the road while someone loaded the film roll and turned on the projector in my minds eye. Vivid images of the needle puncturing into the nerve, blood rushing in with great velocity as the piston draws back, blood spluttering out through the small orifice made by the needle, after the syringe is pulled out. GOD! As I said, I should rather have looked at what was going on instead of turning away.

I staggered out of the lab and walked to the medical shop across the road when I started getting a funny feeling. Rejecting it as yet another fragment of my imagination I walked to the store and gave the shop keeper the prescription, when I felt my whole body going cold. Wiping my forehead I found I was sweating. I looked up and saw blurred images of the medicine racks. I knew this feeling. The same feeling I have had as a little boy. The same feeling that the psychopath Kamal Hassan has when he consumes too much of ecstasy in Allavandhan.

I pointed to the stool inside the shop and asked “Shall..shall I..Sit there.. sit..I am feeling…I” unable to complete the sentence I lurched inside the shop and crashed on the stool. The shop boy quickly made me lean on a nearby wall. He handed me an ice cold packet of water to drink. Blurry eyed, I took the packet and gulped the contents.

“Better?..Feeling better?”
“Er..hm..what..yeah..”
“Here have this packet. Wash your face’
“Yeah..hmm..yes…er”

Feeling slightly better than the condition in which I had crashed into the shop I walked out and washed my face with the cold water. By the time I returned, the shop keeper had piping hot tea in a small cup for me!

“No..actually..no..my home is nearby”
“Have it brother”

Gulping down the tea made me get back to myself.

“So..what was it?”
“Blood test”
“Oh! So looking at blood makes you go dizzy?” he smiled.
“Even not looking makes me go dizzy” I smiled back.
“You could have come with a friend”

I was too tempted to deliver...

“Kanna! Panninga than blood test eduka kootama varum.
Singam... Singila than varum”

But knowing that he would take leave, stay home, roll all over the floor and laugh at the joke for three full days and two full nights, I did not reply and kept walking towards home…

Phew!

On a similar note : Ade Ramachandra!!!

And with that I reach a small milestone of 100 posts! Yipeee!!!

The Pursuit of Happyness

2007-08-06T14:44:00.001Z

I don’t know if you have watched the movie. I have. Three times. And I am pretty sure I am gonna watch it as many times more and that is why I wrote myself a personal copy.

I think I am the kind of person who loves movies that give me hope, encouragement and a lot of motivation. The entertainment value part comes next. These are basically movies that lift your spirits and make you feel that you could do anything if you believe in it and give it all you have. No wonder two of my favorite movies are the Shawshank Redemption and The pursuit of happyness.

The pursuit of happyness is a movie inspired by true life. The life of one Mr. Chris Gardner. The movie has Will Smith playing the part of Chris with great conviction and Will’s real life son, Jaden Christopher Syre Smith delivers an absolutely beautiful performance as that of Chris Gardner’s son Christopher. The movie goes on to show the trials and turbulences faced by Chris in his Pursuit of Happiness. Chris assumes the role of a narrator as he takes us along the journey, splitting and labeling each part of his life.

Chris lives with his wife and son in a small apartment. He is a sales man who makes a living, selling medical equipments called “Bone Density Scanner” which in his opinion “Gives you a slightly denser picture than an X-ray for twice the money”. So obviously making a sale happen seems to be next to impossible. His wife Linda, trying hard to make ends meet, pulls two shifts in the place where she works and she is already tired of enduring this life of hardship. We are not surprised when she leaves her husband and kid to shift to New York a little later. Little Christopher goes to a day care centre.

With unpaid taxes and rents mounting, Chris makes an unsuccessful attempt in instilling a positive outlook in his wife Linda that things are bound to look up. Chris tries his best to pacify her, saying he has plans of joining the six month internship at Dean Witters as a Stock broker to supplement his income. All he gets in return from Linda is a sardonic remark “A Stock broker? Oh! Why not an Astronaut?”. In one of the later scenes she is seen lamenting “From a Sales man to a Stock broker is backwards!”

She deserts him to join her sister’s boyfriend who has made a job offer in the restaurant he has opened in the city of New York.

Chris gets the idea of joining the stock brokerage when one day on his way to work, he sees a guy alight from what looks like a Ferrari, in front of him. An interesting conversation follows...

“Man! I got two questions for you. What do you do? And how do you do it?”
(Laughs) Points the building opposite “I am a Stock Broker”
“Stock Broker! Oh! Had to go to college to be a Stock Broker”
“Don’t have to. Have to be good with numbers and good with people. See you.

I still remember that moment. They all looked so damn happy to me. Why couldn’t I look like that?

One of the riveting aspects of the movie is the performance of Will Smith. Underplay should be the word I guess. Not at one point in the movie does he dwell into a needless emotion. Not once are we subjected to unwarranted melodrama which is the staple for most of our Indian movies. If it is agony then it is a drop of tear trickling down the cheek and if it is exuberance, then it is the clapping of his hands above his head. At no point does he go overboard. A brilliant performance to the core.

Then there is Will Smith Junior. You can expect a natural flawless performance from an adult but how do you explain Jaden Christopher? This little chap matches his dad in expressing his emotions. Kids can be quite irritating with their emoting. Directors make sure they undergo all sorts of trauma to evoke pity from the audience. One good example of this could be the kids of Saif Ali Khan and Rani Mukerjee in Yash Chopra’s “Tara Rumpum”. Jaden’s act is a class apart. As the little kid carrying a bag on his back and a yellow Tiffin box in his hand, he is seen most of the time running to catch up with the speed of his dad!

There is this particular scene where Will tries to hide the harsh reality of life from his son. He pretends to use his bone density scanner as a time machine to be transported to a prehistoric era. Then he pulls along his son and runs explaining that they now have to find a safe “cave” to escape from the dinosaurs! A nice little story as an excuse for spending the night in the public toilet. This scene, no doubt, reminds us of the academy winning movie “Life is beautiful”

How Chris survives the six month tenure at Dean Witters without a salary and how he emerges triumphant at the end of the ordeal is what forms the rest of the story.

At end of the movie, Chris and Christopher walk down a path chatting when a dark guy walks past, acknowledging Chris. If you had wondered who that insignificant chap was…

Well, that's the real life Chris Gardner!! Do watch the movie if you haven't yet.

The Dream...

2007-08-05T18:15:00.000Z

Some crowded place. Somewhere way beyond the crowd, I see a man walking away briskly. He is attired in a maroon colored suit and black pants. He wears a cap and a cooling glass to mask his identity. Nobody in the crowd realizes who he is but I recognize the walk. That inimitable fast walk. I run behind him pushing my way into the crowd. I am all excited for I know who he is.I run a long way before I realize that I am in a deserted place now. All that remains is a hut in the distance.

I enter the hut. The hut too is deserted. I look around expecting to see him. A small door opens and out emerges a old man with beads around his neck and an unshaven face. Sacred ash is smeared on his forehead. He is wearing a colored dhothi and he looks all set for a pilgrimage. He walks to me smiling. I am stunned. He is totally different from the man I have seen all these years. I am overwhelmed with joy and totally speechless.

He breaks into his trademark laughter and pats me on the shoulder.

I wake up...

Jacky!!

2007-07-30T08:45:00.000Z

When you want to reach out to a wide audience who else would you feature in a commercial!

Aren't we educated?

2007-07-26T08:58:00.000Z

Dear All,
Today is Sai Baba's Birthday, DO NOT IGNORE Please send this "SABKA MALIK EK" - Sri Sai Baba to 11 people immediately and await one GOOD NEWS TONIGHT ITSELF.

I could understand a superstitious illeterate dullard handing out printed pamphlets to people on the road beleiving good luck to rain on him. But educated people using emails and short message services to forward such shit...

You guys suck.

The Kid at the CD shop

2007-07-23T04:24:00.000Z

H
e was of a height that was a little over my hip. He wore a shirt that had green and white lines running alternatively one below the other. The pant was a lighter shade of khaki. A pair of gleaming white eyes, below a curly mop of hair and a small forehead, stared curiously at the surroundings. His skin was a color that would easily make anyone mistake him to be a Negro, with his curly hair adding more than a touch of credibility to that mistaken assumption.

Engrossed in the small write-up on the DVD cover of the movie Million Dollar Baby I never took notice of the kid standing next to me. It was only when he tugged at my shirt did I turn and look down into those twinkling pair of eyes. He was holding up a CD of Tamil movie star Vijay’s “Thirumalai”.

“Is this “Thirupatchi” movie?”

“No it is not. It is “Thirumalai”

“Oh!” he fell silent.

His little fingers ran on the Tamil lettering on the CD cover.

“Thirumalai!” he beamed happily.

Before I could say anything he spoke to me “You know… this is Vijay! “Gilli” Vijay”

“Oh! Is it? Do you watch movies?”

“Yes”

“Who takes you to the theatre?”

“No. I watch in TV. The house where my mother works has a TV. I watch movies there.”

He answered without looking at me as he was busy scanning the latest DVDs stacked up on the wooded table at the entrance of the shop.

He stopped scanning when a Jackie Chan movie came up.

I thought of asking if he knew who the actor was but decided to remain silent assuming the poor kid wouldn’t know.

He looked up at me, smiled and pointed to the CD “Jackie Chan!”

“It is a super movie. See...this little kid over here is very funny. There are many fights in the movie. You have seen this movie?”

“No” my answer was more of a whisper.

“What movie is that in your hand?”

“It…it is a English movie” said I.

“Oh”

“What standard do you study?” I asked

“I don’t study”

“What does your father do?”

The loud blare of the train horn drowned his words. Through the small window in the shop I saw the numerous bogies of the Park station bound train rattle past. Yet another loud cry erupted from the front of the train and within moments all that was left was the distant rumblings of a far away locomotive.

“What does your father do?”

“He is dead. He poured kerosene on himself and set fire”

The shop owner entered with the pirated copy of a recent Tamil movie and handed it over to me.

“What movie is that?”. The kid pulled the CD from my hand, when the shop keeper hit him on the head with a remote control.

“Here! Take this and run off!” he said placing a one rupee coin in his hand.

Rubbing his head with one hand he took the coin with the other and without a word ran out of the shop, into the street and disappeared in the darkness of the nearby slum…

Dil Maange More!

2007-07-02T05:18:00.000Z

O
ur dude here, dressed in Louis Philippe Shirt and Allen Solley trousers might be working in a MNC. His glasses might be from the house of Carl zeiss. He might have straightened his hair at Bounce. But when it comes to quenching his thirst he doesn't go beyond our traditional "More" served in a glass tumbler at Rajendran Tea Stall !!

Location: Club House Road, Chennai