Arunthur Dent

The Gods Who Walk

2011-04-26T23:00:00.000-07:00

Serendipity works in a number of ways. For some, it's an evening at Bloomingdale's in New York buying gloves. For others, it is finding, after waiting for weeks, a book on angry, disillusioned, desperate and murderous gods by the guy who wrote the definitive graphic novel that spans multiple mythologies and came out trumps.

Gaiman takes a unique look into American History - it's gods, many of whom who were immigrants just like the residents. The main characters and their rich mythology - irish, norse, egyptian, indian - doesn't surprise you anymore. It's the cameos that you oh-so wait for. Not only do some popular characters from the Gaimaniverse find their way into this book (Anansi and, get this, Delirium), but a few other familar yet unexpected characters contribute to the twists and turns.

American Gods is the story of the reticent Shadow, who seems have to regained his life after getting early release from prison, but to have it lost when everyone who meant anything to him is no more. Recruited by the mysterious Wednesday as a bodyguard, Shadow is thrown deep into a centuries-long war between the old and new gods where nothing is what it seems.

While the main plot thickens, American Gods suffers from a pacing issue with the extensive Lakeside subplot which might not appeal to everyone. But wait for it to unravel as it has an interesting payout and makes up for some nice characters.

Caution: People who read "Anansi Boys" first and were hoping for a lot of light-hearted humor with some bumbling gods, don't. If Anansi Boys is personified by the funny Fat Charlie, then American Gods would be sledge-hammer wielding Czernobog.

Cricolitcs

2010-05-13T11:59:00.000-07:00

At first, we saw Politics become like Cricket. MPs throwing things at each other, politicians worried only about their own selves, underhand deals, fight for captaincy and the likes. With our politicians becoming so adept at Cricket stuff, can our Cricket players be far off?

Here are some gems that would make the Greek transfer the Intellectual Property rights to Irony to us.

"The IPL is a domestic tournament and the standard is much lower than a world event where you are up against quality batsmen and bowlers. You don't expect to go to World Cup semi-finals if you play the way the team has played in the Caribbean. Yuvraj has to look at his game. If he doesn't perform for long periods, the selectors will not play him just on the basis of his reputation. Some of the players have got a lot of opportunities, but have not delivered. They have been around for quite a while and the entire country wants performances from them."

As a matter of comparison:
- teenage boys playing cricket in Madurai (one pad on the front foot and no gloves) would be laughed at if they dance around the crease half as much as Ganguly (two pads, two gloves, thigh guard, elbow guard, jewel guard, helmet and what looks like a kevlar suit) does at short pitched balls.

- the only other person who had more opportunities given than Ganguly: Shishupala.

"India's lack of adaptability has been a disappointment. What is baffling is that even though most batsmen showed a distinct sense of discomfort against the short ball during the World Twenty20 in England last year, they were picked again for an event on even bouncier pitches in the Caribbean. All other teams remember what happened last year and the tactics employed by them against the Indians prove this."

This gem about adaptability comes from Sunil Manohar Gavaskar, who greatly adapted from Test Cricket to ODIs with a swashbuckling 36* from 60 overs, and then, according to Wikipedia at least, conceded he couldn't, ermm, adjust to the pace of the game. Let the record also show that it took him 12 full years to really understand that it is possible to score 100 runs within 50 overs. No truer words have ever been said.

"It's hard to put a finger on the exact reason [for the defeat] but of all the tournaments MS Dhoni has led India in, this is the most disappointing. At times you can be stubborn and stick to your ideas but he might want to be a little more flexible in future. Only 73 runs were scored in the last 10 overs despite having nine wickets in hand. There is no explanation for that. Tactically Yusuf Pathan should have come up in the batting order. Selectors will have to look for Twenty20 players who can play in all kind of conditions."

This comes from the man who stubbornly stuck to his idea of "score 10 runs in the first 15 overs when the field is closed in. dont worry if it doesn't make any sense" while the Greatbatches and Bothams of the world were smashing up things right across the road and the Srikanths were doing it at the other end. If only the selectors had looked for players who could play in all kind of conditions in the late 80s and early 90s.

"Obviously if you stay up the whole night, it would affect you. Players should be responsible enough. The game is more important than the parties. Excuses like these cannot be given after you lose. For a player, cricket should come first and everything else is secondary."

Thank you, man who was suspended from international cricket for essentially selling out your team. We really needed a lecture on "cricket should come first" from you.

"I don't think that [attending IPL parties] is a reason. Who was forcing them to attend these parties? They could have said no. I don't think they should say all this. These are silly excuses. Fact is they had gone there to win the World Cup and they just weren't good enough."

Madan Lal's 16-page resume:

- Was kapil's partner when he scored 175*
- Bowled first ball ever bowled in a World cup
- 15 blank pages

Honestly, even Madan Lal's own cricket academy couldn't build his resume beyond one paragraph. But let's face it. Madan Lal's ICL had the star power of zee-tv mega-serial and bhojpuri actors while the IPL struts out the Shetty sisters, the Padukones and the Zintas. The difference in attending the two parties has to be as disparate as the speed gun readings of Madan Lal and Michael Holding.

IPL Chairman for Nobel

2010-04-15T11:27:00.000-07:00

If Einstein can get a Nobel for something we already know, how about our IPL Chairman for this year's Nobel?

Personal Integrity: In the mid-80s, arrested for carrying only 400gms of cocaine (as against the tonnes drug lords usually get charged with), charged with assault and kidnapping (but not anthrax based bio-terrorism) and pleaded guilty (brownie points for honesty) [Courtesy: Wikipedia]

Contribution to the game: Ensured that the current and future generations will have a very short attention span for times to come. Introduced highly cricket-relevant concepts like cheerleaders and a strategic timeout to a game already overflowing with advertisements. Re-vitalized the dreaded "5 days and sometimes no results ?? Test Cricket is a bore" maxim. Didn't contribute a dime to domestic cricket from the billions made from the IPL.

Innovation: Somehow being called Genius for stealing a concept originally formulated by the ECB and introducing it in India. Praised for managing the IPL and making millions when in actuality, making money out of Cricket in India is like saving money using Geico.

Camaraderie: Destroyed the lives and careers of fellow countrymen who played for the ICL for two reasons - the undisputed monopoly enjoyed by the BCCI and just plain spite.

Character: Dated supermodel. Got dumped. Ruined her chances at the IPL contest successfully. Worked hard to deny her an Indian visa. Got shafted by central minister. Attempting to shaft central minister.

And personally, for re-enforcing the fact that Twitter indeed is a garland. We all know what happens to garlands when it falls in the hands of a certain sub-species.

Whatever Happened To Neil Gaiman

2010-02-22T12:43:00.000-08:00

Okay, that was a cheap shot. But hear me out. (spoilers ahead)

Its common knowledge that Neil Gaiman is ultra-talented - Novels, Graphic Novels, Films - this man has scored on every field he has played. So when DC gave Batman to Gaiman, it sure sounded like Jimi Hendrix on acid. Only, when I was hoping for "Purple Haze", Hendrix OD-ed and went into "Star-Spangled-Banner-using-teeth-as-pick" mode.

"Whatever happened to the Caped Crusader" looks a lot like "The Wake" from the Sandman series. The lead guy is dead, an esoteric set of friends and enemies appear in the story reminiscing him, and at the end of it all, you guessed it, there is a "we are not done quite yet" moment. It didn't work for me with The Sandman. It didn't work for me with Batman.

I loved the earlier Sandman books. Packed with action, twists and thrills all along. The first four books (preludes, dollhouse, dream country and seasons) of the Sandman series just blew me away and my interest peaked for me with "Season of mists". That should give an idea of what kind of people Gaiman's audience contains - The "dont-get-all-metaphysical-on-me" kind which is actually the "not-smart-enough-to-understand-much-outside-of-an-action-novel".

Clearly, Gaiman didn't dumb it down to my levels in the next few Sandman books, and that's perhaps exactly were WHTTCC left me wanting as well. A superhero novel needs to be a superhero novel. If the author isn't a superhero author, he should perhaps change his style just a little, but only for that series. Frank Miller knew how to do it with his "Dark Knight" books. Alan Moore worked his magic with "The Supreme" which is a stand-out in many ways. Gaiman's time will come soon. Just not yet.

The artwork and inking is outstanding in WHTTCC, the Gaiman touch is prevalent - he makes you look at the characters in a different light, the Gaiman-esque Joker-Batman sketch is top-notch in it's own way. But it feels like walking into Chipotle and being served Wasabi-on-Sushi. Both good on their own, but were they meant to be together?

Shame Shame Puppy Shame

2009-12-26T19:01:00.000-08:00

A six month hiatus from one's own blog is usually unpardonable. Even if it is one that isn't read by anyone else on this astral plane. Coming to aforesaid blog with a comeback post is shameful. Even if it is one that isn't laughed at by anyone else on any other astral plane.

And then, Michael Schumacher, as his name is usually misspelt (real name: Soomaker), announced his comeback. It was a no-contest between the radiance of my shame (Shame Radiance Reading: Lakshmi Vedi) and the brilliance emanated from Soomaker's (SRR: any explosion on the Pikinni Atoll). I just lost the argument of "Is this comeback post the biggest act of shame in self-promotion". And the margin is monumental.

Surprised at Soomaker's decision to come back? Are you one from the "I am glad God is coming back. Now you will fear His wrath. The Rain Master. The Champion of Champions. No, He is not a cheater. He is not a sore loser. You are. All you Hakkinen/Raikkonen/Alonso fans are. Mummy, this blog says untrue things about Soomaker and hurting my feelings. Mummy, make him stop. You are a bad-bad boy. Mummmeeeeee " club? You came to the right place. Here is an exclusive look into Soomaker's diary.

Nov 3, 2009.

Great news. Kimi not coming back to F1 this year. Should somehow convince Ferrari to take me in. Life is good again.

Nov 7, 2009

Alonso driving Ferrari? Sehr geehrter Herr. Should check if Todt can give second-rate car like we used to give Rubens. Ah, good days back then.

Nov 11, 2009

Ferrari not taking me back. Thank God. Can't complete with Alonso. Got kicked-in-butt twice already with better car. Can't take more.

Nov 15, 2009

Need a car that can make _any_ driver a contender. Hey, how about Brawn ?? If Button, who won exactly one Grand Prix in 9 years exclusively because of rain and a motherlode of luck, can win a championship in a Brawn, I shouldn't do much worse. Right ?? Right ??

Nov 22, 2009

Stupid Vettel. Stupid stupid Vettel. I hate him. Mercedes wants a German driver and this stupid Vettel is an available, talented German driver. Should forge a birth certificate to say he was born elsewhere.

Nov 29, 2009

I love Austria. I love Austrians. Heck, I would love flesh-eating-nanobots if they could tie up Sebastian Vettel till 2011.

Dec 4, 2009

Told Brawn I will be driver #1. As usual, there will be no driver #2-#9. The "other" driver _could_ be #10 or beyond if he goes on his knees and begs for it.

Dec 11, 2009

Remember to pass on "Barrichello's Post Race Interviews" DVD to Rosberg for mental conditioning. Add "Excerpts from Austria 2002" bonus DVD.

Dec 28, 2009

Hurt hip when practicing signature celebration move aka "jump from podium like a chimp". Should use this as an excuse when not winning.

Mid Life Crisis

2009-06-26T11:35:00.000-07:00

Quick. Go and check the blog for everyone you know who is on either side of 30 today. Like right now. What do you find? Some post on Megan Fox's acting chops (or otherwise) hoping the wife doesn't watch? A diatribe on the reporting manager? A treatise on the current recession and how it hasn't been giving double-digit salary rises as it used to? Still fuming about the 20/20 WC?

While all the above are quite possibly good options, this week in the 30-somethings diary will be dedicated to Michael Jackson. For MJ was the Apostle of Bathroom Dancing to people born in the 70s and even the early 80s.

Bathroom Dancing is an art, but a violent one like Kalari Payattu or Mixed Martial Arts where every moment is laced with danger. Fortunately BD does not require a partner like the other activities.

Unsure how BD can be dangerous? Try moonwalking on a wet bathroom floor, looking forward but walking backward. It usually results in a terrible thud and concerned parents asking if you are okay. Or how about the anti-gravity lean from "Smooth Criminals" without the protective pillows all around? Its safe to say that having the ground come up at such short notice isn't a pleasant feeling. But what has to be quite the killer is the attempted Toe-Stand from "Jam". It would literally hurt to imagine a 100-pound body attempting to stand just on two big toes, wearing no protective footwear like MJ.

Despite all self-inflicted injuries to fans, it is undeniable that MJ taught a whole generation to dance like no one is watching (sometimes, thankful that no one is watching). He made rich kids badger their parents to buy big boom boxes and show off. He helped school bullies get extremely cocky and go on stage to try assorted dance steps in an effort to impress the women and inadvertently giving the rest of us tonnes of fun episodes to talk about even today. Me? Nostalgia and RIPs aside, it probably worked best for all parties that "Nevermind" happened. So long MJ, Keep Dancing.

Note: Having partners for BD is only a matter of personal preference and don't let this blog hold you up. Just make sure your partner knows what s/he is getting into.

Ultimate Protection And Then Some

2009-05-14T14:49:00.000-07:00

So you are coming back home after destroying the Death Star and The Galactic Emperor, this after taking down the T1000 and some martial combats against Agent Smith. You step into your home and you see this: hall strewn over, things lying upside down and a low groan/moan from somewhere in the dark. Unsure how you missed such a natural threat? Feeling under-prepared? Relax, Ultimate Protection against the Undead is just a library away.

When you see a title like "The Zombie surivival guide" subtitled "Complete protection from the living dead" with a rifle and machete right beneath, you look forward to reading a "shaun of the dead" like comedy-horror. At least I did. What I got was a complete tongue-in-cheek parody of all survival guides, only a little too tongue-in-cheek for my tastes.

Not sure how to spot an outbreak? Check the guide. There are reports of an outbreak and you don't have enough time to get out? Check the guide. Have a whole cache of weapons ranging from sub-machine guns to swiss army knives and unsure which one to choose? Check the guide. Want to team up with some Resident Evil fans and take out the undead? Yep, check the guide.

In short, When the undead do roll out their plan of hostile takeover, make sure you have this book in hand to run, hide, kill, clean and reclaim our planet. The book itself is partitioned into aforesaid sections with great detail on what weapon to choose, how to fortify your location, how to identify an outbreak and most importantly, how to plan for your hideout. Whew.

The premise is beautifully set for Max Brooks to take his dad's signature sarcasm and run with it. But he lets the juicy half volley safely to the 'keeper without offering a stroke and hopes you liked the twist. Not me. The "zombie incidents" section was fun, but the guide itself was just about okay. In a planet where people stored firewood, canned soup and cartons of paper napkins ahead of "Y2K", am sure this is a holy manuscript alongside other potential best sellers like "Trekking through Mordor" and "What to order at the restaurant at the end of the universe".

FWIW, the bonus chapter from Max Brooks' next book (World War Z) has me looking out for that. The fact that the second book has already been optioned out as a film, more so.

NewsReel - The Ossification Outrage

2009-04-28T11:45:00.000-07:00

Afraidhe Issues Ultimatum

Dashing opener/middle-order/tail-order/12thman/thug Sickhead Afraidhe launched a verbal assault on the Indian legal system and it's reliance on arcane methods like ossification for determining someone's real age.

Afraidhe, in a special interview with our correspondent Darkha Butt, expressed his dismay over such potentially unpredictable methods. "What if it was an undigested haddi from the mountain goat I had for breakfast/lunch/dinner/snacks/drinks?", he asked. He also said he was puzzled over the the cost-effectiveness of such methods since there were other cheaper, reliable and 100% trustworthy methods. When asked to explain what they were, he scratched his nose and said "my word. my birth certificate" in that order.

Celebrating his 19th birthday along with his friends, family and a few bookies, Afraidhe expressed his happiness that the ICC does not resort to such unscientific methods. "It would be devastating for me and my friend Rasan Haza if such methods were chosen by the ICC", he said. Rasan Haza, who has been 16 years old since the start of the new millenium, nodded violently. "It really scares me to think that someone will test a mere bone in my body 10 years from now and say I am 29. That would totally ruin my 20th birthday party", afraidhe conculded.

NewsReel - The Bisibelebath Brouhaha

2009-04-14T12:06:00.000-07:00

News Reel - Where All News Is Essentially Reel

SaiGo Says There Will Be Bisebelebath in Madras

Leading chef SaiGo (Saidapettai Govindasami) thundered that Madras will witness a deluge of Bisibelebath if Bangalore does not desist from spreading that strange red-colored paste inside masala dosais.

Hearing such an outrage against traditional masala dosais, which should technically contain strictly a dosai and some masala, SaiGo also mentioned the minds of the thamizh people had become a "kothu parotta" over this vexing issue. He later said that he actually meant a geographical phenomenon which was also the name of a mid-80s Thyagarajan film.

He recalled the chili-chicken-throwing incident at a Virumandi Vilas outlet recently and warned of further repercussions. Bangaloreans could only make paste-smeared masala dosa, but "here we have people who can make bisibelebath cold and without rice and paruppu. The next generation of youth is not like us", he later told reporters.

Mr. SaiGo said that the mere Golden Quadrilateral between Madras and Bangalore could not permanently prevent the Tamil youth from visiting that city with an anda full of batter. “If sowcarpet can have a Data Udupi Hotel, why can't chickpet have a New Ganesh Bavan??".

NewsReel - The Chicken Conundrum

2009-04-09T15:23:00.000-07:00

News Reel - Where All News Is Essentially Reel

Leg Piece Thrown At Mayan
A sick hen, kokkarakko ko, flung a piece of chilli chicken at Mr. Mayan, VP of Virumandi Vilas in protest against the organization's decision not to upgrade the name of chicken 65 to chicken 2009 in tune with modern times.

Mr. Ko threw the piece of chilli chicken during a press conference at the Virumandi Vilas headquarters in Vadipatti when the VP refused to be drawn into a discussion about the change in historic nomenclature. The chicken piece was about to miss Mr. Mayan by a fair margin when he somersaulted in the air and caught it in his mouth to some wild cheering from his organizational comrades.

Mr. Ko was immediately whisked by Hotel security who were reported to be carrying nice round clubs which were topped with nails. Passers-by observed some muffled screaming from the kitchens of Virumandi Vilas and hotel patrons complained of mute whines later in the evening.

Momentarily taken back by Mr. Ko's action, Mr. Mayan insisted on going ahead with the press conference. When asked for his reaction, Mr. Mayan said : "the piece was tasty".

Later, talking exclusive to NewsReel's own firebrand reporter Oorga Butt, Mr. Ko regretted his form of protest. "I usually eat any leg piece that am given and am sad I had to hurl it at Mr. Mayan. The leg piece might be gone, but the issue still remains"

Ego custodiet ipsos custodes

2009-03-22T14:02:00.000-07:00

Arunthur's Journal: 1987. Moore and Gibbons just released novel. Can't read right now. Book rated 'R'. Also no time, have to memorize 13th table for tomorrow's class.

Arunthur's Journal: 1991. Terry Gilliam wants to make movie out of novel. Called novel unfilmable and gave up. Couldn't care less. It cannot beat "Thalapathi" anyways.

Arunthur's Journal: May 2005. Using torrents heavily. No MP3s or movies, such downloaders should be lynched. Only graphic novels. Should be commended for that. Got the entire novel today and trying to read on Acrobat. Wish me luck.

Arunthur's Journal: June 2005. Read the novel. re-read it. Reading it for the third time now. Acrobat hurts. Eyes aching. Will not rest. Will not give up. Will laugh in the face of fatigue.

Rorshach's Journal: 2006. Novel languishes in development hell. No one ready to dare. Cowards.

Rorshach's Journal: 2007. Ray of hope. Zach Snyder wants to film novel. Good man Snyder. Loved 300. Heavy metal music. Lot of blood. Nice.

Rorshach's Journal: 2008. Watched trailer. Kicks ass. Cannot wait for March 2009. Gutless hollywood execs saying 'No' till now. They will all have to answer to me. And when they scream for mercy, I will say 'No'.

Rorschach's Journal: March 2009. Jet streams of blood pounding in heart. Have tickets in hand. Show starts in 5 minutes. Here I come.

Rorschach's Journal: Gilliam was right. Novel is indeed unfilmable. Snyder chose 300 wisely. Lot of action, linear narration, tonnes of eye-catchy moments. Worked out well. An entirely different beast this one. Snyder tried. The innovative narration of the "Minutemen" story, casting, novel panels translated to screen with precision, truthful to whatever original material it covers, the "grassy knoll" sequence and other nice touches. Snyder tried, hats off. But novel not just story of 6 individuals. Novel much more than that.

Minutemen appear only in title sequence, Hollis appears for 5 minutes, Hooded Justice shows up only to beat up comedian, Ozymandias' comes out as crazy guy, not the twisted-yet-determined genius. Whats with the doctor who interviews Rorshach ?? The folks at New Frontiersman, The lesbian lovers, The apocalyptic painting, the news vendor, the "black freighter" fan ?? Where are they ?? All wrong. Completely wrong. Need to be fixed. Need some time alone with film producers and iron pipe. Need to politely instruct them to stay off "Sandman".

Biggest gripe on how Snyder filmed Rorshach. Jackie Earle Haley did justice, Snyder did not. Rorshach's backstory dumbed down. Rorschach's jail interviews dumbed down. Nothing on Kitty Genovese and the Rorshach Blot. Shame. Importantly, Rorschach has tears in the end ?? _The_ Rorschach ?? Too bad, Snyder. Too bad.

I know what you think. "Greatest novel of all time, made into a movie, idiot blogger does not understand". "Need a 12-hour movie to film everything, stupid blogger". "I waited all my life for this movie adaptation, if you didn't like the movie, crawl back in your hole, tasteless blogger". Had a choice. Could have taken easy way out. Could have showered glory on film. Could have gone with the crowd. But, Never. No. Not even in the face of Armageddon. Never compromise.

10 Things You Least Wanted To Know About Switzerland

2009-03-11T18:45:00.000-07:00

10. Rivers running through cities. A bridge with curved pillars every mile. Cobbled streets that go nowhere and everywhere. Church with huge clock. Tall buildings with spires. The occasional castle with a torture chamber. All checked. Now I can start narrating stories that begin "You know that time when I was backpacking across Western Europe ...."

9. After days of eating Fondue, Raclette and Pizzas, you realize that white rice is actually ambrozia.

8. That piece of cloth that looked like a shoe-wipe is not a shoe-wipe, but designer wear. That price tag of 49 swiss francs is actually 49 swiss francs and is officially outright robbery.

7. Vegas makes money with casinos. Paris makes money with museums. Bangalore makes money with computers. Switzerland makes money with cows wearing bells and banks without rules.

6. The California state motto of "Eureka" is inspired by Archimedes. New Hampshire gets it's motto of "Live Free or Die" from a famous American Revolutionary. Zurich gets its motto from the famous thamizh saying "thottadhukellam kaasu".

5. Have "shopping issues" ?? Worried if significant-half will run riot shopping ?? Fear not. Provide SH directions to Bahnofstrasse - where the sheer number of shops make it look like North Usman Road, but price tags make it the Champs Elysee of Zurich. The only affordable thing found (and was immediately bought) on Bahnofstrasse: Roasted Peanuts.

4. All the statues found on main downtown streets feature nude gods and godesses. Either the medieval sculptors were less imaginative with fashion or there was no fear of censorship.

3. Daily breakfast together at the hotel buffet. Daily lunch on in-room service. Daily Dinner at the Airport food court. This has to the most romantic swiss trip imaginable. By a margin as wide as Sehwag's bat.

2. If there was a 11th commandment, it would read "Don't indulge in Swiss Chocolates". A simple plan of eating a single bar is usually followed by a few hours of empty staring at the bulging gut with enormous volumes of guilt and a dozen wrappers at your feet. Sinful.

1. Engineers are polite. Waiters are polite. Managers are polite. CIOs are polite. Drivers are polite. Co-passengers are polite. Dogs are polite. Everyone is so polite that one would think Poornam Viswanadhan was a dada from korukkupet.

Warming My Bones Beside The Fire

2008-11-15T18:00:00.000-08:00

- where Obama is the new Rajinikanth-Sachin-Amitabh hybrid, so much so that he can contest right from the corporation elections to the presidency and win just about everything.

- where the new James Bond movie is just "James Bond 2008" since the mass populace feels that "Quantum of Solace" sounds like an Anthony Minghella movie set during WW 2.
- where Cho is still one of the best satirists around (proof: tughlaq writeup on karunanidhi meeting obama), predictably, all his targets continue to remain hopelessly shameless (proof: proof ?? proof ??)
- where we concede that the Madras Saravana Bhavans (_only_ the Madras HSBs)are one of the best exponents of Thamizh food, and at the same time, contend that they are hopelessly overpriced (not that anyone cares)
- where the only difference between all thamizh channels is that small logo that appears in a corner of the screen
- where 8-1 joins the Indian Cricket Pantheon alongside such celebrated numbers like 233, 281, 97 and the likes.
- where there are ads galore of fairness creams for men, yet there is no noise about "exploitation/stereotyping of men"
- where 4/5 year olds stand at the edge of the pool, shivering in a swimsuit on a cold november morning, while cosily dressed moms sit around and discuss world politics
- where you finally realize eating can be an experience, hobby and profession
- where your 2-wheeler responds to your old touch
- where your dog's definition of love is giving you blood wounds
- where home is

Viva Tamil Techno

2008-10-14T12:23:00.000-07:00

"Are you from this century ??" was the look Danger and Kulasegar gave me. Yes, I usually get asked that question every time I ask people "How does this new T-shirt look on me". But this time it was entirely different, I had merely exhibited my expertise on TFM (Tamil Film Music) by mentioning one of my latest favorite songs. But in Kulasegar's defense, it was natural. My latest song had to be carbon dated to find it's age while Kulasegar was looking like the Whole Foods of TFM. For the next few hours, we listened to CD after CD of the latest (latest as in in 2008 latest) songs and I have to say I am pleasantly surprised.

Top Ten Takes On TFM

1. The music "sounds" so good, but does it sound good?? Of course, it has always sounded good, but this time, it "sounds" good too. Is a master's degree in sound engineering mandatory to become a music director these days ?? There were no rough edges that I could find, but yes, sometimes, the songs get eerily smooth. Live instruments are becoming absent a rate higher than Sachin Tendular's strike rate. This can't be a good thing. No more "raakamma kaiya thattu" ?? No more "andhi mazhai??". No more "en iniya pon nilave" ?? No more "iLaya nila" ?? Please don't do this guys.

2. The bane of Udito-Narayanoisis still exists. Unfortunately. When he came in with "kadhalikkum peNNin", we all liked it. Even with "sonia, sonia", it was acceptable since that song needed an anti-unnikrishnan. But then, when you give him a song like "sahana" when there is hariharan just around the corner singing "poombaavaai", you are pushing the envelope too far. Would "engeyo partha mayakkam" from "yaaradi nee mohini" sound better with another singer ?? I would like to hear though.

3. The lyrics are clean. Wow. Is this the same industry that gave such timeless family classics like "ei kutti munnale" and other language-intensive songs like "metro channel munna paaru" ?? Bheema's "mudhal mazhai", Vaazhthukkal's "kannil vandadhum", the title song from "unnale unnale" - all of them and more have lyrics in thamizh and only thamizh and nothing but thamizh. So who are these people who do such a big injustice to the thamizh language by writing lyrics in thamizh ?? Pa. Vijay ?? Na. Muthukumar ??

4. Don't push your luck with the video always. Please. Take my word and just listen to them on your player. If you really insist, then try this. Listen to "tajmahal oviya kadhal" from "kaLvanin kaadhali". You find it good? Nice. Now watch the video with SJ Soorya. Or listen to "unakuLL naane urugum iravil" from "pachaikiLi muthucharam". Then, watch the video where a senior looking sarathkumar walks up and down while a dozen ringwraiths dance around him with flames.

5. Experimenting with voices has always been something that impressed me with TFM. There sure was a time when it was all SPB and Malaysia Vasudevan. Even then, you had a Mano and an SN Surendhar and a Jeyachandran in the mix. Now, just about every song sounds different and there is a tonne of talent at the background singing department. Tipu, Karthik, Devan, Unnikrishnan, Bombay Jeyashree, Nithyashree, Anuradha Shriram, Sadhana Sargam, Manicka Vinayagam, Harish Raghavendra - the list goes on. A few Karnatic Music types are going to frown on me, but considering my knowledge in Karnatic Music, i don't even deserve to be frowned at. So, relax.

6. Upstart Music Directors is something new though. Until ARR in 1990, raise your hands if you remember Chandrabose who was Ilayaraja's contemporary in a strictly temporal sense ?? I tried real hard, but couldn't even remember anyone else from that period. SPB scored music when he was bored, you have an Adithyan sighting once in a while, Maragadhamani makes a cameo, Manoj-Gyan score every other aabavaNaN film - but it was well and truly the Ilayaraja show with the rest just making up the numbers. But now, I do believe there is a healthy competition between a dozen of them. Harris Jeyaraj is the poor man's ARR, Bharadwaj and Vidhyasagar make some amazing music when paired up with the right director, YSR becomes the surprise successor to IR and you also have Joshua Shridhar, GV Prakash Kumar, Vijay Anthony and the likes.

7. Where is the punch? Few paragraphs above we did the usual chest-beating with quality of music and lyrics and singers etc. Its time now to yield to the "Dark Side". Where O Where are the kuthu songs? "yamma yamma" from "vallavan" is an instant classic, "saroja saman nikkalo" from "chennai-28" makes you get out of the seat - but is there any other true contender who can stand shoulder-to-shoulder with yesteryear hits like "aalthotta boopadhi" and "gemini gemini". Mind you, I am not even going into older hits like "vethala potta shokkula" from amaran or "anna nagaru aandaaLu" from "kalamellam kaadhal vaazhga". We consciously do not want to be a music industry filled only with songs for "Guy who split from girl friend due to misuderstanding", "Girl fascinating about future husband", "Son waiting to go to college and experience the world" etc. We do have drunk parties where we need to take our shirts off you see.

8. Lifesavers. They truly are. In the 80s and 90s, movies used to open up - and even run successfully - just because they had Ilayaraja. Ask ex-MP Ramarajan (if you, the reader, are from Tiruchendur, you owe us all an explanation. Yes, from Madurai we voted Subramaniya Swamy once. But thats a different story) and he would swear by it. Ramarajan movie plots are highly interchangeable with some combination of his mother, koundamani, senthil as his friends, a villain who owns a mill/farm and his daughter who is highly educated, but falls in love with RR after initial outburts over useless matters (punctured cycle, broken car pane etc). The greatest difference would be that in some movies the villain is RR's uncle while in others he is not. But the songs really kept going and Ramarajan broke box office records until even the songs became interchangeable. Similarly, these days, there are movies that are remembered/watched/discussed just because of they have good songs but are lousy otherwise.

9. No Reshammaiyahs/Talat Azizs. If you can't consider this a privilege, I don't know what else to say. Reshammaiyah and Aziz used to make me drop the remote and cower into a corner every time I run into them while channel surfing. Touchwood, TFM hasn't created any thing in that segment at this level.

10. TFM Rocks because it's TFM. Today, anyone who is a fan of TFM just visits an online mp3 site and downloads the songs. Peace. But in the 1980s me and our bretheren used to run from store to store to buy audio tapes, and sometimes spend an extra 5 bucks on "CD Recording" just to hear the masters at their work. All you lucky, computer-savvy, Y-Gens - enjoy your luck :-).

Going To California

2008-09-23T10:00:00.000-07:00

For a number of years, the California DMV used to have a standard message on all it's highway/freeway billboards - "Drive slow, Save lives". Considering it is California, naturally, no one ever drove slow.

But this time around, the DMV has seem to have found a winning caption. They just added two words to the original caption. "Save fuel". If that actually puts things in perspective, humanity, as a whole, needs a swift kick in the posterior.

I tend to think of humans as a bunch of noisy women in Mid-May Madras, talking endlessly about why [Insert teary-eyed mega serial heroine here] and [Insert shabbily-dressed serial director who decided to play hero] are going through such tough times, not realizing that their pots are overflowing with water and getting wasted (In Madras, this ranks somewhere in between sneezing loudly when Federer is on championship point against Nadal at Wimbledon and pressing the "Don't Press This. Ever" button on the Doomsday Device). I also see God as this corpulent, sweaty, swarthy corporation guy in khaki who looks at all this callousness, throws in a few choice abuses, kicks the pots up in the air and closes down the tap ruthlessly.

Additional DMV note: When I park the car between two stationary vehicles, I usually look at both of them to see how "car-savvy" they are. This later-day wisdom arrived after parking next to "unsavvy" SUVs who put on a few dings on the front side. An already dinged car is "unsavvy" since the guy driving should have been careless to get dinged up, while an expensive, clean-cut car is "savvy" since, at the least, the guy knows the pain of getting dinged and would watch out. At the DMV, I do my usual check. The car on the left looks okay, slightly dinged, but okay - sort of "savvy", but "not savvy enough". The car on the right was slightly different though. It had bullet holes. Bullet Holes. Wow. Thats a clean "armed and dangerous". Quite literally.

Additional California note: The Bay Area has perhaps the highest concentration of rice eaters after the TN-Andhra belt. Understandably, the rice stock hit a new low and the prices started shooting up. As I was pondering what happened to all the bags of rice which disappeared like Vittalacharya props from the shelves, I am told that highly educated, sophisticated, americanized, intellectual NRIs are buying twice as many 20Lb bags as there are people at home. That would feed a small nation during a nuclear winter for god's sake.

Surplus-Additional California note: In debating over the title of this post, Led Zeppelin wins a three way competition over RHCP and The Mamas & The Papas. Zep rules.

Onne Onnu, Kanne Kannu (The Only One)

2008-08-11T10:59:00.000-07:00

Most of the earliest questions have been answered convincingly - "Is your country filled with cows ??", "Are the streets full of snake charmers ??" and the likes. Thanks to Aishwarya Rai, the IT boom, Anthony Bourdain, National Geographic and YouTube its pretty clear nowadays that we are a country with gorgeous women, nerdy geeks, tasty food, beautiful places and beastly traffic.

Couple of the new age questions, like "Is there a caste system in your country where people have to do the same job that their father did??" or "Is Bollywood _the_ movie industry of the country??" can be handled if we sit down for a discussion. No, unless you are a politician and No, unless expensive and gaudy costumes (with a few notable exceptions) are the primary benchmark for an industry.

There are other questions that are way too easy to answer "Is it true that most politicians in your country are scummy ??" or "Do actors and sports stars stand a better chance to become administrators over someone who might be actually qualified and with a track record in doing that ??". An answer like "its the same darned story everywhere" with a sad face elicits a big empathic sigh and the topic is done.

However, there has always been one question that I had never ever been able to get around answering. "For a country of billion people, for all the talk about being the next superpower, for all the pride about being a part of the oldest civilization, for all the general bravado shown all around, why haven't you guys won a single individual Olympic Gold ??".

Not anymore. Never again. Abhinav Bindra, thanks for breaking the jinx (or our usual mediocrity at the Olympics) by doing something that no Indian had ever done before. Is this going to change the way Pepsi & Coke pump money into Cricket as if there is no other sport in India? Is this going to stop Suresh Kalmadi from pretending as if he himself won an Olympic Gold? Is this going to be a step in building the non-existential infrastructure for the other sports? Is this going to bring about a change in the "recommendation" culture in our sports quotas? Is this going to enable colleges to form an NCAA like organization to foster sports? Who are we kidding? But still, there is at least one less question that we don't have to take anymore and that's good news.

Oh, by the way, smart aleck questions like "So, for all these years, you just have a single gold medal to show and you actually write a blog to brag about it??" would be redirected to /dev/null.

Good Knight, Good Luck

2008-07-20T12:57:00.000-07:00

How many times have we been able to say there is "no let up in the action" about a movie? Die Hard comes to mind immediately. How many times have we been able to say that "its an interesting look into our own minds" about a movie? Did you just say Fight Club ? How many times have we said "a refreshing super hero movie thats better than the prequel"? Spiderman 2, maybe? How many times has one been able to say all of it about one movie? Not until "The Dark Knight". Before you click the link to read further, be warned there are a lot of spoilers below. If you haven't seen the movie, you are going to feel quite miserable if you click that link. Even if you have seen it, its quite possible that you might feel miserable after having to read through my blog, but that an entirely different point.

Its easier for Bale fans to write reams about him in this movie. Heck, I would probably defend him in "Reign of Fire". I'd probably go on about his under-playing of the batman role to an extent where it looks like a Joker film at times, or his portrayal of his wayne-vs-batman conflicts - but coming from a fanboy, you are better of skipping to the next bunch of paragraphs.

That leaves us with a lot of people - Caine, Oldman, Eckhart - all who do their roles good service. But the one that towers above all them is the late Ledger. There are already talks of Ledger being nominated for an Oscar. First up, I don't understand the hype about Oscars. The academy snubs Denzel for "Hurricane" and awards him for "Training Day". Crowe gets shafted for "Insider", but wins for "Gladiator". Scorsese is screwed a tonne of times, for Good Fellas - no less, and wins it for a remake. So, whats all the fuss about Oscars?

There are also going to be comparisons between Nicholson's Joker and Ledger's. We could do well to compare SMG and SRT's ODI strike rates. Nicholson's Joker comes from a pseudo-comic-book world, where villains and heroes and everyone around them are a bit larger than life. Ledger's comes from our own confused times. His one dialogue sums it up: "I am like a dog chasing a car, I don't have a plan". And true to all the hype, he gives one of the memorable performances by a movie villain because of the way he has chosen to interpret his role. There are several scenes that stand out. The interrogation sequence, the hospital scene where the Joker actually convinces the disturbed Dent that he isn't the bad guy or the last sequence where the Joker says how Batman "completes" him. The way the movie is set up, the Joker is an integral part of the next movie and the sad part is that we wouldn't have Ledger to take this character to yet another level. However, is this the best-ever performance by an actor in a villainous role? Nope. Not even in the last two years. Anton Chighurh would have shot the Joker with a cattle bolt rifle and not ruffled his hair-do.

As a batman fan, I like the way all the characters from the batman universe find a role in Nolan's movies. Gordon, Fox, Pennyworth - they are all there and they have strong roles. However, I am a bit disappointed with the end(??) of Two-Face. Please tell me he isn't dead, but is safely stashed in Arkham and will be back for the next movie. Two-Face is perhaps the second-best Batman villain after the Joker because he comes from the same place as Batman does, but lost his way in the middle. Having Batman fight the Joker _and_ Two Face in the next one has me lining up outside the theaters for the midnight show right away.

The best thing to happen since inventing the Zip would probably be giving the reins of the Batman franchise to Chris Nolan. While other 'brothers' have lost their steam (read: Wachowskis) and some others have very different priorities (read: Scotts), the Nolans are spot on in whatever they do. The screenplay and tempo of TDK is just flawless. They take a superhero movie, which, by definition is super-human, but add so many human elements into it than anyone has. Be it the choices that people have to make, our conflicts with our own heroes, the thin difference between a good guy and a bad guy, our trust in the next guy, the never-ending debate of civil liberties vs security - Nolan has a way of including all these elements into the story. But what strikes me most is how reflective Nolan's work is of the core elements of Batman. As many of the pre-release articles indicate, I see a lot of similarities with Alan Moore's "Killing Joke". In "KJ", the Joker goes all out to prove to Batman that all that it takes is one bad day to reduce a hero into a crazed nutcase. Compare that with how the Joker tries to break Gotham's belief by destroying it's heroes - Batman and Dent - by intentionally switching the locations and have Batman go after Dent instead of Dawes. In the novel, Gordon who gets caught in the middle, survives and holds on to his sanity. In the movie, Dent loses it while Batman doesn't. Towards the end of the novel, the Batman and Joker share a lighter moment knowing that they have to live with each other. Although not in that scale, TDK ends on a similar note where both the characters realize that they are more entwined than they ever could have thought.

As a fan, what more can you ask from Nolan? He assembled a classic cast for both his movies, he saved the franchise, he gave us two great movies, each of which satisfies the entire spectrum of fans - both the casual movie fan and the comic/graphic novel fan, he gave a human element to both his movies much like how Raimi did with his Spiderman movies, but quite darker, he sets everything up neatly for a great third movie. What else can a fan ask from a director? Probably a promise to come back for the third movie. Probably a quick thriller like the "Prestige" in between this and the next movie. Probably picking up another 'considered-dead' franchise and bring it back to life.

The next few years are going to be fun. A new actor has to be signed for the Joker. Bale needs to find time between filming the Terminator movies. But we can all rest in peace as long as the franchise is in the able hands of Nolan. To paraphrase the Joker, "Here....We....Go".

Inky Pinky Ponky

2008-07-20T12:46:00.000-07:00

From the Hindu

So let me get this straight:

We have an honorable Member of Parliament, who represents all the people from his constituency, holding the entire future of the nation in his hands, gracing the almighty parliament and enjoying maximum security alongside other perks as housing, air-travel. Said honorable MP has two buttons in front of him/her colored Red and Green, out of which s/he has to press only one based on what the party has already chosen weeks before. Is Hindu telling me that there still exists a chance that they could actually press the wrong button? Factoid: The nephew, who is all of 2.5 years old, can choose one button from perhaps 20 including such difficult colors as Cyan, Magenta and Teal, making him 10 times qualified to be a Member of Parliament.

Also, am I led to believe that this honorable member of parliament, who isn't even sure about choosing one button out of a grand total of two, has made a decision on if the nuclear treaty is good for the nation or not?

Gen-Y

2008-06-16T11:41:00.000-07:00

The Nephew is screaming "Aaaaaooooeeeee", which translates to "I want something and you don't even seem to make an attempt at getting me that, despite the fact that it means that you need to drop whatever you are doing and vanish in a puff of smoke to get it done. You are in no way like that genie from that story". Usually, the "something" is either a broomstick, or a bulb or a water bottle - things easily accessible or even remote controlled. But then, his parents went out of their way to buy a new train toy and since then "something" has become "train". No, not tiny little toy trains which run around in circles while you pretend to be interested. We are talking big, noisy Caltrains at the station thats too close for a drive and too far for a walk.

The scream started at a less-than-ideal hour. Dad is busy designing packet-switches and isn't home yet. Mom is very busy reading this big huge book on Java. Aunt is busy splitting prawns wide open for dinner. By the process of elimination, that leaves Uncle who is extremely busy reclining and watching the Celtics-Lakers game.

Nephew realizes the futility of being left with lazy bum uncle. Nephew knows uncle won't move an inch if the game is good. Nephew notches up the volume a bit to pass on the message.

Uncle is watching Kobe and Gasol and KG and Pierce make a game out of it. Uncle is also wickedly thinking of ways to handle the situation at hand without Mom and Aunt realizing that. Of course, Aunt cannot know that Uncle is trying to work around baby sitting duty, lest he will know what it means to be a dead prawn. Rock, Uncle, A Hard Place - in that order.

And then, a bulb glows brightly overhead. Take this, nephew. And that. And even some more. The crying disappears like it was the box-office for Indy IV after the first weekend and is replaced by "ishishish" which translates to "you are definitely not the best uncle around, but for now, you will do". Uncle can live with that. Uncle reclines back to watch the game and just around that time, very symbolically, truth runs over Uncle like one of them trains.

Generation Y(ou Tube) is no myth. Not anymore. It has arrived well and truly, and it lives 10 feet away. It is now currently giggling away to glory looking at all those sleek looking trains. Uncle slowly retreats into uncle-hood with violin background music and contemplates on taking a pension policy.

Kingdom Come

2008-05-22T11:36:00.000-07:00

"He has to be here somewhere. Look again"
"I found him"
"Where ?"
"There !!"

What follows next leaves you with a feeling you cannot explain in words - like a sunset in sandy island or a layup in the dying seconds of a game - Indy on top of a german U-boat with the theme playing in the background, stopping just a second for a salute and then disappearing. That scene captures the entire spirit of the Indiana Jones series. "How did he get to the submarine without being spotted ??" "Its a submarine, how can he hide _outside_ ??" "It's the whole German army against 1 man ??" - these questions apply to mere mortals, not to Dr Henry Jones Jr.

I am admittedly an Indy fanboy. The one who looks at the replica hat at the disney store who later sighs at at the price tag, the one who sings the theme in full gusto while going on the Indy ride while other adults look on amusedly, the one who will argue endlessly about how Temple of Doom is far superior and highly underrated. Naturally, the expectations rocketed beyond the outer-most-osphere. Usually when they do that, they come down with a resounding thud. So read this review at your own risk.

After multiple viewings of the trilogy on DVD over the years, and two marathon viewings of all the films (in pieces) over the last weekend, I knew exactly how fans of Star Wars would've felt waiting for the midnight showing of "Phantom Menace". At about 3am this morning, I still knew how Star Wars fans felt _after_ watching "Phantom Menace".

Here is a sneak peek from Spielberg's production notes. There are spoilers abound, so watch out.

On a lazy saturday afternoon after having two eggs for breakfast and scratching the lower chin

Yawn, I've made one too many serious films and I just want to relax. Look at that Soderbergh guy who goes on a vacation with an ever-growing entourage of stars every two years only to shoot a home video and release it as an Ocean movie. Can I make Jaws 5 ? or Jurassic Park 4 ? Or are they off their shelf life already ?

Hunting game at Skywalker Ranch

Splendid. Ford is bored after his critically acclaimed, smash hit films like "Firewall" and "Hollywood Homicide". Lucas just realized that he can't go on milking Luke Skywalker forever. As they say, it takes three to tango. Background music start.

After watching a sweaty Lucas trying to blather something on the lines of "phantom, clones, revenge"

Lucas acted a bit strange today. When I said I am planning a sequel to an iconic series after 19 years, he hid all copies of "The Phantom Menace" before offering to help. Should enquire further.

After encountering a serious director's block

Hmm, we had the truck chase in RotLA, the rail car chase in ToD and the tank chase in LC. Today, Ford is approaching the age when he plays roles like Presidents (absolutely no need to overwork oneself) and Software Experts (-ditto-). George wants an intensely-CGI filled car chase where no one knows whats going on. Incidentally, he also owns ILM. Enquire this further too.

Desperate to get an idea and accidentally sitting on an ant hill

We did snakes, we did bugs, we did rats. What shall we do now ?? Think Steven, think. Ah, let us do Ants. A lot of fake-looking CGI ants. There.

Weighing up the paying public

Snake gag, check.
Whip gag, check.
Hat gag, double check.
Now the audience will forget everything else and agree its an Indy movie. Thank goodness.

After watching "Queen Elizabeth" and "Beowulf" in makeup

Its funny how many people said okay to be in this film without even reading the script. Take Cate Blanchett, the Meryl Streep of this generation, who just gave her nod for a terribly one-dimensional character. Wait till she meets Jim Broadbent, Ray Winstone and William Hurt who have no-dimensional roles. Chuckle, chuckle.

Planning for the future

We are planning to shoot the last sequence tomorrow. Now that Ford cannot do another movie, George and I have planned to have a symbolic scene where he hands over his whip and hat to LeBeouf. Then, we can continue to make a truckload of money with direct-to-video movies, young Mutt Williams/Jones III tv shows, an animated series on MW/J3, MW dolls with funny limbs and a string of blockbusters for memorial day weekends.

After getting horrible nightmares of being tossed around by fans

Yes, I re-shot the transition scene. Now all you fans, allow me to make another Indy movie. Tan ta dattan, tan ta dan, Tan ta dattan, tan ta dan tan tan.

The Name Game

2008-05-09T11:38:00.000-07:00

Rajasthan Royals

Jaipur, Ajmer, Jaisalmer, Bikaner, Jodhpur, Udaipur - yep, we get it, they have all the moral right in the world to name their team Royals. Secondly, they also stayed true to Team Naming Conventions 101 with their "double initials" (RR). Try saying San Antonio Spurs and Los Angeles Lakers. Now try saying Tampa Bay Devil Rays and Minnesota Timberwolves. See what I mean ?

Delhi Daredevils

Totally cliched alright, but then what else would you call a team that is represented by an actor who jumps buildings to flick a thumbs-up and led by a player who aspires to reach his double/triple-hundreds with a sixer ? Delhi doesn't score high on originality, but definitely gets it right with appropriateness.

Deccan Chargers

Well yes, they picked Laxman as their icon despite knowing clearly well that their matches are _not_ played in Sydney against Australia, but hey their name is catchy and slots in the name of their sponsors without being ugly-conspicuous. Mission accomplished.

Chennai Superkings

First, it is still Madras for many. It was and will always be. And when one hears the name "Chennai" being murdered in foreign tongues, it makes it all the more true. Second, the thamizh guy's English vocabulary is slightly larger than "Super", "Rascal" and "Mind It". Try harder next time.

Bangalore Royal Challengers

So tell me this. Isn't Mallya the liquor baron who owns the brand Kingfisher ? Isn't Shaw Wallace one of his fiercest competitors ? Incidentally, isn't Royal Challenge (RC for the initiated) one of their brands ? So, are you telling me that Mallya invested heavily in this team to give it the name of his competitor ? Yep, being in the midst of Kingfishers and Royal Challengers can do this to you. Proof: The Bangalore team which shows signs of serious inebriation.

Punjab Kings XI

This is exactly what happens when you stay awake all night for lavish launch parties buring hard earned money earned starring in such timeless classics like KANK, CCCC, JBJ and then select a team name with the hangover intact. It was like someone stood up groggily, picked out the LCM of all the names (2 Royals, 1 Knight, 1 King), suffixed a number to it and then continued with getting wasted. Heck, I would have been happy if a spinning mill from Tirupur had bought the team and called it Punjab Sudarmanis.

Mumbai Indians

This would have been a brilliant PR movie if all the other teams had imported players from Lesotho, the audience brought in from Suriname and the venues spread across Papua New Guinea. Unfortunately for Ambani, this looks more boneheaded than it should. At least he has something to show to his brother during the court visit.

Kolkatta Knight Riders

And the winner is, Kolkatta. For being bold and breaking the mold by dedicating their team name to the ethos of Brokeback Mountain. They also have the only other thing that makes the team name look better. Those team helmets. Ramarajan/ Govinda/ Jaggesh/ Junior NTR looks like Calvin Klein.

NSHOTB

2008-05-03T12:10:00.000-07:00

There is a saying : What starts well, ends well. Ironman, the New Super Hero On The Block, gets that just right. A fast-talking Robert Downey Jr, showing some "Tony Stark" attitude and downing some alcohol while "Back In Black" plays in the background. Ironman, you have arrived and arrived in style.

I am not a big fan of the Iron Man novels, so much so that I started digging up comics only after I saw the trailer. Even that was primarily due to the namesake soundtrack. And am glad I did. Marvel has had great success with it's super hero franchises, but almost all of them have their best days behind them. After two splendid movies in the series, the Spiderman and X-Men movies have hit a trough with their third. Ang Lee had great visions for the Hulk, but after a major overhaul, the series hopes for Norton to give it a boost. The Fantastic Four movies were terrible anyways (Jessica Alba included). To top that, Marvel just started their own studio and a success was needed more so than ever. Enter Robert Downey Jr.

Having someone say a movie's success is attributed to, of all things, Downey is similar to attributing success to a Silambarasan or Van Damme - entirely laughable. I would've too, only he gave sufficient notice with his brilliant performance in Zodiac. Downey plays the irreverent-rich-whizkid turned womanizing-hard-drinking-billionaire turned high-flying-innovator turned impulsive-crime-fighter like second nature. Be it his "Merchant of Death" speech at the beginning of the movie, or his impulsive blurt at the end of it, Downey fires a salvo at everyone who thought he was yet another hollywood-made alcoholic wreck.

Favreau has got many things right in this movie - a tight script (IMHO, could've been a bit longer), staying true to the origins of the character, enjoyable humor, visible nods to future directions in this series (loved Rhodes' "next time, baby"), a well-performing cast with Paltrow and Howard and the subliminal choice of Downey as Iron Man, probably because what lies ahead for Iron Man is what lies behind for Downey.

There are interesting times ahead for Marvel. They are trying to establish what they did in comics/novels into movies - which is to weave a broader arc with all their major superheroes. Tony Stark has a cameo in the upcoming Hulk movie, Rhodes gives a hint of where he is headed, S.H.I.E.L.D is in, there is a mention of the Avenger initiative (and you know who else is in by that). Add the 25c/copy sale of comic books that we found yesterday. There is no better time to be a comic book fan.

Iron Man treads oft-treaded territory where a Superhero is intentionally made to look more human than hero. Iron Monger is no Magneto nor Green Goblin. But still, its a great start to a promising series as long as Downey stays on-board. Its not my top Super Hero movie, that would still be Batman Begins followed by a bottomless chasm, but Iron Man has a refreshing feel after enduring the pain of X-men-3 and Spiderman-3. If nothing seems to interest you enough, go and watch it just for the stan lee cameo, the end-scene after the credits with someone you know from before or Gwyneth Paltrow. Heck, just go watch it for Gwyneth.

Dasavatharam

2008-04-25T11:39:00.000-07:00

It has become the moral responsibility of any thamizh guy to write about this upcoming movie. Of course, we all know what incalculable hype does to a movie (Baba, Matrix Revolutions). Here is hoping it doesn't do the same to this one. Most blogs have a link to the trailer, then interpret what each frame means. This blog aspires to join in the mindless mayhem and aims to throw a punch or two. Heck, we remember how everyone concluded that "Old Kamal" is a hitlerian plotter after watching the trailer of "Indian". We also know how prophetic that turned out. Remember that after you watch the movie.

1. Its a movie set in different time-lines linking people to a common thread. So is it Darren Aronofsky's "The fountain" where Kamal is after the exact same thing in each of his "incarnations" ?

2. There is a crazy scientist and a president, both played by Kamal. Could it be Stanley Kubrick's "Dr. Strangelove" where one Kamal tries to destroy the world, the other is easily influenced by people around him, yet another tries to save the world, while the fourth probably drops the proverbial Nuke ?

3. There are admittedly a bunch of people sharing similar traits, and Kamal is running around in a room full of vats. I hope its not Michael Bay's "The Island" where Kamal realizes he is a clone and tries to figure out his other selves ?

4. There is a big,fat, presidential body-guard look-alike. Is it going to be some sort of a Bizzaro recreation "In the line of fire" by Wolfgang Petersen ?

5. We see kamal carrying an idol and running away from all and sundry with Asin on his side. Is this Kamal playing Robert Langdon from Dan Brown/Ron Howard's "Da Vinci Code" and saving a religious artifact that could potentially 'shake the roots of an entire religion' - something that Kamal would be glad to do for free ?

6. Cars flying everywhere, regular song sequences, explosions. No, not just another KS Ravikumar pseudo-entertainer. After 2+ years in development hell, numerous posts on when and if this movie will ever see the light of the day, an interminable court case, Kamal, Ravichandran and all Thamizh movie fans deserve infinitely more than one of KSR's Cookie Cutters.

Neighbor's Envy Owner's Pride

2008-04-17T19:43:00.000-07:00

On the way to the carwash

"Sir, your keys ??"
"Here"

"But Sir, I need your keys"
"These are my keys"
"But sir, there is no key"
"Ah, you have noticed, yes"
"So I need the key, sir"
"But this is the key"
The serviceman is bewildered, and then I explain everything, followed by a smirk and a closing tagline for the blog, "Neighbors Envy, Owner's Pride", everyone who visits the blog laughs hard.

At the carwash,

"See, you know .. "
"Yes sir, I push the button it starts the car".
This without even turning around to look at me.

Now I know how it feels to have a dozen eggs on the face.

No Planet For Normal Men

2008-03-25T23:23:00.000-07:00

After watching bits and pieces of a few matches from March Madness (or The NCAA 2008 Men's Basketball Championship), I see this : Any time a close match gets over, after a cursory shot of the winning team celebrating, the camera quickly pans to a guy from the losing team who either has his covered in a towel, is looking at the basket in disbelief or openly crying on his coach's shoulder.

The single biggest problem that many Indians in the Bay Area have is that there are "Indians everywhere". This sentiment is usually expressed while gorging on Roti-Dal in an Indian restaurant.

That guy, who just changed lanes without a turn light and squeezed his car inches before the one behind, has a "Caution: Baby on Board" sticker.

Talking the talk : Criticizing all and sundry on Global Warming.
Walking the walk : Buying a cloth bag for $0.50 instead of sheepishly picking a gazillion free plastic bags.
Current score : Talk leads Walk by a few billions.

Every time an American/European fails to spot, say Bangladesh, in a map, people snicker. When given an opportunity to spot Burkina Faso in the same map, aforesaid people scratch their head.

QED.

The Five Lights

2008-03-13T14:05:00.000-07:00

is a crowded place in Kodamabakkam. But what is more relevant now is that they are about to go out in Melbourne this weekend.

Can you empathize with the feeling of

- being run over by a container truck that was coming downhill while you were cycling uphill on hearing Mika's sudden retirement after a disastrous 2001 season (in spain, where he was leading by ~30 seconds, his car just died on him in the last lap - a singulary good enough reason to retire, imho)

- having to watch "Snakes on a plane" over the "Godfather" because that was the only movie available in the DVD store when DC was announced as the lead driver for Mclaren?

- watching Laxman walk in to bat against Australia with the balance hopelessly tilted against India knowing in your heart of hearts that something spectacular is going to happen when Kimi joined Mclaren ?

- being hit with a Maai-geri, Yoko-ke-agi, Yoko-ke-komi, Mawashi-geri and rounded off with a Ushiro-geri, all in quick succession, when watching MS rack up victory after victory with his super-performing-car and team orders in 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003 and 2004 respectively ?

- seeing Scorsese sit out yet another year in the audience when some random guy walked up to collect the Best Director's oscar when Kimi get tantalizingly close to the 2003 C'ship only to miss out in the last race ?

- elation watching MGR belt the crap out of Nambiar singing "Naan aaNai ittal" when watching MS getting his butt kicked in 2005 ?

- jubiliation when Aamir Khan hit a last-ball-six against the british in "Lagaan" while watching MS getting his butt kicked two years in a row ?

- relief watching Tom Hanks overcome that monster wave in "Castaway" for not having to hear MS give a patronising "I retire on my own terms and as a winner"

- being a recently-defected KGB agent in a meeting at Langley, when shifting loyalties to Ferrari in 2007 after a tumultous 8-years with McLaren

- having switched queues, only to find the older queue moving super-fast and the new one standing still when Hamilton was becoming what Kimi should have become

- Knowing what comes next when any team took the field against the Australians in a world cup final as Kimi entered the last race having only a mathematical possibility of winning the championship

- Knowing clearly well that Gandalf was dead, but still hoping against hope for him to make some sort of a comeback in TTT or ROTK when checking f1.com's live timing in the middle of a fun trip only to see Kimi second, Alonso third and Hamilton outside the points ?

- absolute disbelief at realizing Verbal Kint was Keyser Soze when the computer was shut-down forecefully by your friends because it was check-out time at the hotel and you were being a insensitive idiot for spoiling a pleasant weekend with this ?

- being super-imaginative like Simon Pegg and Nick Frost running through their escape plan to beat armies of zombies in 'Shaun of the dead' while creating outrageous scenarios where Kimi would just flip out of the race due to some whacko reliability issue as always ?

- solace like Truman Burbank as he walks out of the set, never to go through the same hell-hole ever again, when receiving that call which said Kimi was the 2007 Formula 1 World Champion ?

- genuine satisfaction a mastercard ad with the "Priceless" tagline gives while being happy for 7 years of sticking to your guns defending Kimi against friends and anonymous strangers and not having to jump on the MS bandwagon

RIP Sujatha

2008-02-28T09:38:00.000-08:00

Writer/ Technologist/ Critic Sujatha (Rangarajan) has passed on to the Other Side. The thamizh writing landscape will never be the same without Sujatha. Sci-fi (Juno, the AI dog and a dystopian future), hero-and-wisecracking-sidekick (Ganesh & Vasanth), his innumerable twist-in-tale short stories (thoondil kadhaigal), technology articles (yen edharku eppadi), his movie adaptations - which didn't turn out as good as the books (Priya, Vikram), his critiques (katradhum petradhum), his innovations (being part of the team that worked on Electronic Voting Machines), his screenwriting abilities (almost all kamal and shankar movies have his strong influence) - Sujatha's work is a myriad collection of many genres.

Despite the legions of his fans, I will always think of him as an unsung hero who never got his due. He was well ahead of his peers in his writing . Just like many other wonderful books, the directors who adapted his works to movies or tv shows never got close to where Sujatha would have set them to be. His sci-fi novels did not set the thamizh sci-fi scene on fire. If only Sujatha was born either in Europe or in the United States, he would have been hailed as one of the greatest writers of his time, with most of us reading his paperbacks on airplanes. But in one of the cliched cruelties of time, for his country, Sujatha probably came a generation too early (rather, we, as fans, came a generation late).

Looking at my reading habits now, I can see it bears Sujatha's influence. I always hoped to send him some of my short stories (rather, what _I_ call short stories) and hoped to receive a "they suck totally, but hey, thats a start" comment from him, only to get back and write at least one story that would be readable so that I can tell him that he was indeed an inspiration.

Find infinite peace wherever you are, Sujatha. You will always be remembered by a billion Ekalyvas.

Run Forrest Run

2008-02-21T14:09:00.000-08:00

Motivation to run is very much like ear-popping when driving down a mountain. No one is born with ears popping, it just happens. Same with running. Bully at school counting on your assignment writing skills, glass windows broken to pieces with the bat in your hand, girl friend's mega-rich dad with mega-sized goons- there are so many reasons. As an aside, I love running too, but for slightly different reasons. Ah, Imagine the setting sun, a lonely hill side, bursting biceps, taut triceps, hard-as-nail hamstrings, carved-up calves and a silhouette. Wait, Thats Sylvester Stallone from Rocky IV. Now, imagine a big, fat slob huffing and puffing his way on the treadmill towards the promised land of fitness. There, that is more like it.

Running on the treadmill sounds really straightforward. Climb on treadmill. Run. Climb down from treadmill. But one should know things are usually different in real-time than they were when you heard them - our resident 'darn-they-told-me-it-would-be-easy' motivational speaker Abhimanyu knows a thing or two about that. I know, this blog is suddenly veering towards health, weight-control, longevity et al from other interesting aspects of life like Maria Sharapova and Rachel Bilson. If you were born before 1978, you already know why. If you weren't, you will know eventually. So you want to stay healthy, do you (read: you want to fit into that old jeans of yours which just went from super-comfort to extra-tight and all that you did was to eat a few burgers, some assorted muffins and a gallon of soda) ?

1. 1431 Payorea Tooth Powder - Known as a very effective dental stain remover is for very effectively removing dental stains.

Sounds like a no brainer, I know. It is okay to wear a hiking/ trekking/ office-going/ cheap-with-no-padding shoe for running and say "hey, they are all shoes" only if it is okay to use harpic and lysol to remove dentals stains since "hey, they are all stain removers".

2. Pump up the volume

We all worship at the altar of 80s film music, no doubt. But trust me, when you are running at 7-8mph speed on a treadmill and wanting to go that extra few hundred yards before you tire out and drop dead, Mike Mogan (sic) singing "Udaya Geedham Paaduven" is not what you want to hear.

3. Never envy thy neighbor

Are your competitive juices overflowing that you want to run harder/longer/faster than the guy in the next treadmill ? Are you itching to set your speed a notch above his and prove a non-existent point ? Usually, this is when one of many things happen
a) Age/ human physiology/ lack of stamina/ a genuine belief in Newton's laws of motion catch up with you seconds before the treadmill throws you on the ground spread eagled.
b) the guy next door is actually a kenyan marathon runner who thinks a 100-mile dash is akin to running to the nearest milkbooth in the mornings.

4. Kiss

If you think you can actually kiss someone on the next treadmill and claim that a blog asked you to do so, bravo. I mean, BRAVO. To your left, we have Exhibit A - Superfast Subbarayan, who runs at breakneck speed for exactly 3 minutes, and then spends the remaining half hour panting and leaning on to one of the side walls, a nervous breakdown ready to happen. To your right, is Exhibit B - Passenger Parameswaran who starts off walking, starts to jog, then starts to run, then begins cooling down and manages to get out of the treadmill in one piece by Keeping It Simple & Synchronized (there, KISS). So, which one is it ? Super Subbu or Passenger Paramu ?

5. Cleanliness is somewhere between Godliness and being that guy with the obnoxious ring tone in the theater.

Buy a towel. Remember to carry it. Don't forget to use it on yourself and the exercise equipment you just used. It's okay, the towel knows that is it's purpose. Being all sweaty and drenched looks extremely manly and attractive only on Peyton Manning and Dwyane Wade in that Gatorade commercial. Unless you haven't won the Super Bowl when I wasn't looking, take it from me, its pretty mundane.

Now & Then - Start Camera

2008-01-04T11:52:00.000-08:00

A few weeks ago, an extremely dangerous activity bordering on the impossible was undertaken. The Missus was trying to take a picture of a certain object (activity) and was trying to make it look good in that picture (extremely dangerous and bordering on the impossible).

Here is a short summary of how the whole exercise went. Snap 1: Eyes closed. Snap 2: Hair all wrong. Snap 3: Red-eye Snap 4: Can't differentiate between the Elephant standing next to it. Snap 5: "Woah, come what may, please don't pose like that again".

Somewhere between these snaps, The Object couldn't help but rewind to about a decade or two back in time. Do you remember the time when :

- your way-too-cautious friend said that some local studios might sell you exposed film and you had to check if the roll was good by pulling it out once completely and rewinding it back again ?
- each photo used to be a work of art because every photographer has the magic number "36" in his mind ?
- you had to shelve your school photo because you were caught staring at a girl and no amount of begging would melt the heart of that stingy photographer ??
- you had to squint through a small screen which had a much smaller square to view objects ??
- you had to whirr a small wheel like madness after taking a picture to move the film roll ahead ??
- you paused a second to wonder if you have whirred so much that you moved far ahead ?
- you wait for a little over two days to find out how exactly your pictures had come ?
- and when you search for that self-declared 'artful photo' you found it so shaken up like it was shot from inside the blender ?
- after careful analysis of the negatives, you chose a picture to blow-up as a portrait and it turned out to be the 'other' picture where your eyes were half closed ?
- gotten kicked after someone found that their dare-devil, one-handed stunt was missed just by a fraction of a second only to show them stupidly grinning ?
- after days and days of striking poses in biting cold only to realize your friend didn't load the film properly ?
- you really surged in front of the crowd to be in the frame because photographs were actually rare ?
- a great murder mystery will be painstakingly revealed as the hero washes the photo in slow motion ?
- photo albums for an entire trip of two weeks used to be a total of 50+ photos, as against the few hundreds taken over an evening walk these days ?
- you take a look at your old albums and remember people, the photographs and the exact backstory behind each one of them because there were so few pictures to begin with as against the innumerable ones sitting in your online album which you don't even bother to clear?

The Object heaves a sigh. As much as he wonders about the past, he is silently glad that technology has improved so much that with a few hours on Photoshop, even The Object can look presentable. That should be refreshing.

Attention

2007-12-20T12:03:00.000-08:00

Having a TV at home without a sat-tv connection can cause quite number of things, one of which is watching old thamizh movies on DVDs. But when it gets to watching the 34th re-run of "Kaaki Chattai", it can become a serious disorder. One by-product of this masochistic exercise is fodder for the blog. Well done. Read on to find _my_ Top 10 Cop movies.

10. The Fugitive

A classic cop-chases-hero-chases-mysterious-murderer movie. Did Tommy Lee Jones deserve an oscar, I do not know. Is Sam Gerrard one of the best badass cops around ?? Hell, yeah. From start to finish, The Fugitive is a pure adrenaline rush. With no heroine to romance around with like other fugitive-on-the-run movies, Andrew Davis gives us one of his better movies. Just don't see the sequel and the thamizh remake (party party party orankattu, paadu singaari duettu) and you will be just fine.

9. Die Hard

Can there be a cop-movie list without the greatest underdog cop of all time ?? Can you beat "I have a gun. ho-ho-ho", in a movie-one-liner showdown ? Can you give the legendary John McClane a miss and still expect people to respect this list ? Bruce Wills keeps the costume budget down by wearing just a cut-banian, but runs riot with the props budget by consuming loads of strawberry syrup for blood. I can see a bunch of purists murmuring the second, third and fourth were not as good as the first. Truth be darned, I love 'em all. Yippi-ki-yay, .

8. kaaka kaaka

By far, the second best cop movie made in thamizh, Hands down. Slick camera work, great songs, beautiful heroine, a tight script, an imposing villain and an honest cop. Wow. In the remake versions in other languages, the heroine survives and everyone happily lives ever after. I am glad I saw the poetic thamizh version. Remember the scene with the curtains ? Kind of pokes you in the gut, doesn't it ?

7. Fargo

Can a cop-thriller be made with bumbling criminals, mild humor, barren landscapes and a brutal murders without hostel-like gore ? Yes, say the Coen brothers. They also add emphatically that they have been doing this for a while now. Fargo is a difficult movie for many (me included, until the 3rd time, i think) to appreciate because it is so steeped with the landscape that it represents - Minnesota and Middle America. It is like asking someone who has lived all his life in an apartment near Adyar Boat Club to appreciate Paruthi Veeran. No, can't do. But then, for some others who have lived in the narrow roads of Chinna Chokkikulam and Bibikulam, thats a movie for the ages. Fargo is probably an acquired taste, but a lip-smacking one nevertheless.

6. Sleepy Hollow

If my tim burton/johnny depp bias makes you skip this movie, ignore that for now. Burton breaks a few cop movie formulas. Take for example the lead character's name. In a world where cops have macho names, we have Ichabod Crane. Where cops have their adrenaline charged up on seeing the villain, our hero faints. When cops take a dive into danger, our hero backs off. When cops dare to see blood, our hero conveniently faints again. But then, Crane is resourceful, brave when the situation so demands and will stop at nothing - postmortems included. If that isn't enough, add abundant humor, a true detective storyline and gorgeous cinematography of turn-of-the-century new york. You have yourselves a winner here.

PS: Yes, I know burton didn't give the name to the lead character, it was Washington Irving. Now would be a right time to remember my the burton-depp bias.

5. Silence of The Lambs

A great cop movie with a greater villain. A greater villain matched by a greatly beautiful actress. SoTL is the first true thriller, and perhaps the only cop movie, where I really wanted to take the lead character out for a date (Note the use of past tense in "wanted" before you start off something at home) and No, Vyjayanthi IPS and other Vijayashanthi movies fail in both categories. Many recommend it for watching Anthony Hopkins at his best, but I say watch it for Jodie Foster. Don't believe me ?? Watch the other two Hannibal movies without foster and with hopkins. Now tell me which one you liked best. Foster brought a vulnerability and believability (and some beauty and some gracy and sensuality and that-oomph-without-oomphing) to the character of Clarice Starling which perfectly suits the theme of SoTL. If you have a thing for super-chics, look no further.

4. The Departed

The Burton-Depp bias is second only to the Scorsese-Di Caprio bias. Thats why you see "The Deparated" in this list and not "Infernal Affairs". When will Scorsese stop making movies where you wished to be a career-mobster ? Probably never. A cat and mouse game, shot in the backstreets of Boston, that pits two brilliant actors against each other with an extra-large scope to show blood and scorsese's favorite four-letter word (which he so prosaically uses even in 'The Aviator') with its infinite variations - Giving such a script to Scorsese is like turning the ball over to Tom Brady with 45 seconds to go in the fourth quarter. Don't forget the background score by Dropkick Murphy (I'm shipping upto Boston). That sort of seals the deal.

3. Hot Fuzz

Buddy cop movies are mostly run of the mill. The kind where two cops are best friends, dodge bullets in tandem, have buxom girl friends who are usually the damsels in distress. When you give such formulaic movies to Simon Pegg, he turns them around to classics. What 'Shaun of the dead' did to Zombies, 'Hot Fuzz' does to the buddy cop genre. With a whole load of humor, violence, blood and the usual flying-in-the-air-shooting-with-two-guns trade mark fight scenes, Hot Fuzz is a brilliant satire that deserves its place.

2. Kurudhi Punal

The best ever thamizh cop movie. You would be pardoned if you really thought it was an English/American movie. Such was the effect that it had on the viewing public when it opened. It had a cameraman directing the movie and an actor writing the script - facts you would realize only when someone told you that. Keeping a breathtaking pace from start to end, Kurudhi Punal gives you a power-packed climax which hasn't been seen in thamizh movies often. In a movie industry where vijayakanth, with a truckload of hair and a beer-gut, pretends to be a cop, Kurudhi Punal was/is/and will be one of those trend setters which will always his its own small cult of fanboys.

1. LA Confidential

What makes this movie click ?? Is it James Ellroy ?? No, he has some duds in 'Dark Blue' and 'The Black Dahlia'. Is it probably Brian Helgeland ?? No, can't be. He gave us 'Assassins'. Curtis Hanson, maybe. Nope, he directed '8 Mile'. Can't be him. Kevin Spacey ?? Russell Crowe ?? Guy Pearce ?? Kim Basinger ?? 1950's Hollywood ?? What is that sets LA Confidential right in the top ?? All of it. That sounds like a cop-out, but that's the truth. Everytime I watch a scene from this movie, it makes me think of marching up to those morons in the Academy of Motion Pictures and laugh at them for picking "Titanic" over LA Confidential for best picture. Just Plain Dumb. If you haven't seen it, do yourself a favor and rent a DVD. Then come back here to thank me.

Other Honorable Mentions :

Johnny Brasco, Dirty Harry, Copland, The Untouchables, High Noon - Never seen them from start to finish.

French Connection, Dick Tracy, Training Day, Serpico, Se7en - Dated (IMHO), Wierd - slightly, Hyped, Depressing, You can't kill Gwyneth Paltrow and get away with it.

Narasimma, Raajiyam, Idhudhanda Police, Vallarasu, Walter Vetrivel, Sooriyan, KattaLai - Lack of server space at blogger.com

Changing Lanes, Changing Times

2007-11-07T09:57:00.000-08:00

Some notes for Claustrophobics entering the Lincoln tunnel. Remember the rule of thumb : Leave the car where it is and run for dear life. Don't trust me ? See what we have for you here : Big-bad-monster-truck-braking-too-often in the front, Big-bad-monster-truck-who-forgot-to-brake in the back, Big-bad-monster-truck-who-wants-to-change-lanes to the right, concrete to the left, river hudson on top and the movie 'Daylight' in mind. Go on. Make your day.

Arunthur never understood the idea behind satellites. You only need to put your hand out of the window to know if it rains or not. And then, someone introduced him to the GPS. To a geographically-disoriented-by-birth Arunthur, that was quite the Excalibur. Until the GPS decided to have a mind of his own. It operated on one guiding principle. Wait till it is too late to enter a lane, then recalculate. Repeat. Getting lost in a straight road is Arunthur's specialty. He doesn't need a GPS and a billion dollar satellite to help him there.

Arunthur used to be this insufferable traffic cop back home. His favorite yells were 'Don't change the lanes', 'Watch the signal', 'Don't honk, its bad manners', 'Always double-check before you park'. In short, he was the long-haired Sakthi Vel in a town full of Mayans. And then, all hell broke loose and the sleeping tyrannosaurus-rex was woken up. Only, everyone in Manhattan thought it was quite normal to do all that and more.

You should see Arunthur drive. Its like watching Da Vinci paint (or watching the paint dry, depending on where you are coming from). The kind of thrill his driving offers is nearly equal to watching an award winning movie with subtitles on a sunday afternoon. And then, Arunthur got stuck right in the middle of the road when the signal went red. A big board which said "fine + 2 points for blocking the box" and honking taxis coming from straight ahead like greyhounds. "Screeeeechchchchch" went the back wheels. "Whirrrrrrr" turned the car. "Yikessssss" screamed the missus. How the times have changed.

Take A Bow

2007-10-20T11:04:00.000-07:00

Sometime back, a certain gentleman (I use the term loosely here, _real_ gentlemen kindly excuse), who had settled into some sort of a lazy routine, was kicked in the butt - not once, but twice, and back-to-back, by the same guy. Realizing that all the people can't be fooled all the time, he quietly took to wearing dark goggles and car-spotting on Sundays. Mind you, he could have stayed on. He could have given a semblance of a fight. There were a few gazillions who wanted him to (as against the few thousands who did not - you know, the "good riddance to bad rubbish" folks). Only, the people who had a say in him staying or leaving thought otherwise.

A significant population went up in arms about the future. They swore it would never be the same without him again. They vowed to stay away from the sport for good. Even the "good riddance" folks weren't sure if they would enjoy the season since their only source of hatred had safely stepped out. That had caused such a big hole of emptiness. It was a strange time.

And then there was Lewis Hamilton. The rookie who was supposed to block all-and-sundry in the backfield while Fernando Alonso ran away with the title.

And Fernando Alonso. The defending champion was who supposed to stand aside and watch his rookie team mate win the honors.

And Kimi Raikkonen. The "Best-Man-but-never-The-Man" who was supposed to struggle in his new team while his established (and well-connected) team mate would show him the way.

For the last race this season, the three of them would go head-to-head for racing supremacy. Would it be a rookie winning the championship (which the gentleman in question never achieved) ? Would Alonso make it three-in-a-row with two different teams (which the gentleman in question never achieved) ? Would Kimi finally win his first championship in his first year with a new team (which, again, the gentleman in question never achieved) after being ever-so-close ? But then, winning isn't the only thing this season.

Frankly, when did a Formula 1 season go down the wire like it did this time ? 2003, did you say ? Not exactly. 2006 ? Probably. 1999 ? Hmm, you can say that. 1990 ? ermm, you are exhibiting my inadequate knowledge of F1 here. All said and done we have three drivers going for the championship in a circuit that goes anti-clockwise, is notoriously bumpy, and can get flooded at the snap of a finger - try beating that.

Win Some, Lose Some

2007-09-28T19:36:00.001-07:00

Automatic Transmission. Pavements. AMC. Netflix. Manzanita Gymnasium. Livermore. White Chocolate Mocha. Trail running. Santa Clara Central Library. Football. Highway 1. BK Boys. Panchathanthiram. Art of Intoxication aka Crescent Moon. Awesome Threesome. Moo.

Nanda talkies road. Shotokan. IQuiz. Sri Balaji. 3rd Main. Thirumalagiri. New Krishna Bhavan. XIIC. Punch. BK Boys. Bachi Bambo. Beautiful Tendril. Holy Basil. Daughter of Spring.

Business@Lack Of Thought

2007-08-10T00:42:00.000-07:00

Imagine this: You own a rich stock of an absolutely non-essential good that half of the world does not want. Now, the powers-that-be have forbidden the explicit purchase of said stock and have prophesized terrible things (power cut during mega serial, gold price dropping _after_ you buy expecting a rise) who do not heed their words. Consider that said target audience have a strong belief in all prophecies and sundry, so much so that they would undergo worser things to ward them off. Now, you have a sea of stock, a bunch of doomsday predictions and an absolutely uninterested market. To paraphrase Dirty Harry, "Do you feel lucky ?? Do you ??".

"Draft a personal marketing policy considering individual buyer behavior", says the Yale graduate. "A cross-sectional deep dive of data needs to be collected", announces the one from Dartmouth. The Cornell graduate says "We need to try the 'Lionel Robbins' theory to verify the market's liquidity before trying anything". The shop-keeper at the corner of North Usman Road yawns and announces "Aadi Mega ThaLLupadi" thereby proving the killer marketing theory of all - the one immortalized by a leading economist of South India, Mr. Kounda Mani - "Free Giving, Phenyl Drinking".

The trick is straight forward and the worst kept secret after 'Who is India's real Prime Minister'. Calculate price X, Increase the price to Y, decrease the price to Z such that Z is greater than X. Don't pray and waste time. Just open the doors wide open and start raking in the moolah. Still no crowd ? Rope in some 'artistes' depending on your budget. Choose from Sneha hip-hopping in Times Square to some dial-in show hosts from Sun Music selling clothes to a mermaid (who, incidentally, is known for wearing nothing or next to nothing (in case of children's books)). If nothing works, try the Saravana Stores (the Real Madrid of the ad world - all stars, no bizz) way where, as a climactic touch, the CEO walks up to the TV screen with a big smile. The TV goes kaput, but business goes ka-boom. Hard to believe, I know. But ask the lady smiling end-to-end at the pseudo-killer bargain she made, and you decide to quit your Ivy League college and open a platform shop on North Usman Road.

Courtesy AMT, some shops which are largely unknown outside the corner of the street they are in manage to get serious air time, Market-out actors get a new lease of life, TV channels manage to fill out their ad slots like a breeze, Ranganathan street defies physics and other known human sciences yet again, the saree stores clear unwanted stock and get paid for it, people buy stuff that they don't require and yet convince themselves they are the winners. In every corner of every shop, the quintessential shopping companion carries diapers, feeding bottles and has leaves sprouting off his feet. Yep, that's about even.

Legilimensing Rowling

2007-07-18T01:32:00.000-07:00

Three days to go before the worldwide release of Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows, and A Legilimens looks into the most-wanted head this week. 10 things I think, that are certainties in the last (or, to put it safely, 7th) book. Check back to see how I scored on Sunday.

10. Dumbledore Is Not Dead
You want to know why ?? Elementary, my dear Watson. The first question in any homicide - where is the body ?? Nope, you don't see it till the end of HBP. Second, we all know that Albus Dumbledore is the Gandalf of the series, so it is only fair that he comes back when they need him the most (which would be when Potter is a few inches from Voldemort's wand with him having said 'Avada Kedavrrr...'). For all conspiracy theorists, check this out. Somewhere in OOTP, when Moody is showing pictures of all the Aurors when the Order was formed, we get a casual mention of Aberforth Dumbledore - Albus' brother. Why am I thinking that it was Aberforth who took the hit from Snape than Albus ? If there is nothing added to the storyline by Aberforth and he is only a bar tender at The Hog's Head, why even mention him ?

9. Crookshanks & Padfoot
The next big secret of the series. That ginger tabby cat called Crookshanks is Regulus Arctrus Black. Let us face it, folks. Crookshanks hasn't done anything spectacular in his time. JKR would not include a character that stays with the trio all along, but still does nothing but purring and hissing. What we do know is that Crookshanks chased around Scabbers and Padfoot (Sirius) was spotted with Crookshanks a few times in POA. Regulus is as talented as his brother and so he would be an Animagus too. He was the opposite of Sirius (joined the Death Eaters, was close to his parents than Sirius ever was) and hence, understandably, took a form that was the opposite of Sirius' - a cat.

8. Precious Pettigrew
Another place where JKR alludes to LOTR. Remember the time in FOTR when Frodo says that Gollum deserves to die, only to be interrupted by Gandalf and said that Gollum might become useful sometime ?? Now, you have seen the part where Harry screams at Dumbledore that Peter should be killed in POA. You are about to see the part where Pettigrew (willingly or unwillingly) saves Harry and dies.

7. Primetime Fighting Challenge
Hagrid Vs That brutal giant leader who hurt him and Maxime in OOTP.
Lupin & Bill Vs Ferir Greyback and his army of werewolves
The Patils Vs Parkinson & Bulstrode
Dean & Seamus Vs Goyle & Crabbe
Ron Vs Draco
Arthur Vs Lucius
Mad-eye, Tonks, Kingsley, Mcgonagall Vs Rudolphus, Rabastan, Macnair, Rookwood
Dobby Vs Kreacher
Firenze Vs Bane

So many matchups. So little time.

6. A Change of Heart
Make no mistake - No matter what JKR says about the books getting darker and moving more towards adult readers, this is still a children's fantasy at heart. There are many bad guys to die in gruesome ways (Lucius, Rudolphus, Macnair, Crabbe Sr, Goyle Sr), that would leave Draco realizing the pointlessness of things, apologizing to Narcissa and repenting. Message of forgiveness conveyed.

5. Romeo+Juliet (without the death of course)
Ron+Hermione. I can see one half screaming "Obviously" and the other half, "What ?? Its Harry & Hermione". Congratulations to the first half, you have it right. The second half, kindly switch to reading some other series. It was so blatantly obvious right from the early books that it was meant to be Ron & Hermione. Heck, Chris Columbus even put a scene where Hermione hesitates to give Ron a hug.

4. The Return of Sirius
Nope, we are not talking about Tulsi here. This is Sirius, so no more come backs. Probably a few murmurs from behind the veil, but nothing more. However, Harry has a new Godfather - Regulus, who, in all probability, looks exactly like Sirius (thereby giving Gary Oldman a part in DH - The Movie). Fill it in with usual scenes where Regulus cleans up the Black Family Tree and adds the names of Sirius, Tonks in Grimmauld Place and then, in a soft voice, asking Harry if he could move in with him.

3. Revenge Is A Dish Best Served Cold
Regardless of our preferences towards Gandhi and Munnabhai, we all love a bit of ass-kicking. Nothing beats a scene where the baddest guy gets smoked by the fumbling underdog. To top it with the fact that baddest guy ruined the underdog's family, we have a moment that matches the intensity Gandalf's entry into Helm's Deep, or Aragorn and the Army of The Dead at Gondor. So, whats the best match up we have for DH ?? Obviously, Neville nailing Bellatrix. Hopefully, pushing her into the veil. Preferably, with the Cruciatus. Possibly, with his father's wand which was broken in OOTP.

2. The Real Star
For many of us (and Yes, _many_ of us), the real star of DH would be Severus Snape. A misunderstood hero, who probably made the biggest of sacrifices all along. Note that Severus is one of the best Occlumens around and he clearly mentions that only a great Occlumens would be able to lie in front of Voldemort, who is an accomplished Legilimens himself. Severus saved Potter when Quirrel was jinxing the broom in PS. Severus also tried to protect the trio from a changed Lupin in POA. He taught Harry Occlumency and at a time when Harry wanted to convey a message to the Order, he conveyed it - which effectively saved everyone at the Ministry of Magic. Even in HBP, Severus had chances to finish potter off himself, but didn't. He also didn't allow anyone else to get to Dumbledore, because only he knew how to get the job done. In DH, Severus would save Harry (yet again), only this time, he would lose his life and be etched in the upper echelons of tragic heroes :-) (okay, that was a tad too much, but you get the drift, don't you ?).

1. Harry Potter will not die.
Obviously.

Glossary
PS - Philosopher's Stone
COS - Chamber of Secrets
POA - Prisoner of Azkaban
GOF - Goblet of Fire
OOTP - Order of The Phoenix
HBP - Half Blood Prince
DH - Deathly Hallows

JKR - Joanne K Rowling
JRRT - JRR Tolkien

LOTR - Lord of The Rings
FOTR - Fellowship of The Ring
TTT - The Two Towers
ROTK - Return of The King

A Matter Of Time

2007-06-28T02:48:00.000-07:00

Prologue

Philip couldn't sit in his seat for too long. The fight with Sophie this morning over breakfast was still haunting him. It was a simple matter of a slightly spicy breakfast which got worse with Philip telling Sophie this wasn't the first time and Sophie asking him to try making breakfast from tomorrow on. That touched a nerve, and being made for each other, the feeling of anger was mutual and simultaneous. After the war of words, both of them didn't utter a syllable throughout the trip to their respective places of work. After a few hours simple rational thinking resulted in Philip's temper becoming remorse. He had decided. He was not going to let a few milligrams of chillies get between him and Sophie. He wanted to apologize and get it over with. Most importantly, he knew what was probably the best way to get it done.

Philip & Sophie - 2007 AD

Philip picked up his mobile phone and after much thought, typed out the words "Sorry" and sent it to Sophie. He waited with bated breath for his phone to chime with the message "It's okay sweet heart". A few finger nails got ripped apart, but the phone still wore that dead pan expression. He thought for a while again and typed "I said I am really sorry, and I do mean it". Moments passed, but the phone didn't budge. Remorse became Unease.

Cursing mildly, Philip looked up his instant messenger and found Sophie online. If she wasn't going to respond to his message on the phone, she has to reply online. Thinking about it, he thought it is was probably better since it would cut the excruciating wait for messages on the phone.

"I am sorry", he typed and waited for the messenger to indicate that she was typing.
"I said I am sorry. Can we just get over it ??", he typed again. The messenger was decidedly mum.
"How many times do I have to say it ?? Can't you just say you are okay ??" was followed by "It wasn't my fault alone, okay ?? If I can apologize despite that, what is your problem ??" and later by "Thats it, if you want to be so stubborn, I can be twice as much" and thankfully concluded with a curt "Bye". Unease had decidedly morphed into Anger.

Philip picked up the land-line phone. Trembling in anger, he dialled her office number only to be responded with an engaged tone. "She did it on purpose. She unhooked the phone on purpose", he told himself. Anger, after having clouded his judgment, had promoted itself to become Rage.

And Rage does what it usually does when residing within a short-tempered young male with access to emails. Within a few minutes, Philip had spewed a few kilobytes of venom into Sophie's mail box. "That should teach her a thing or two", he proudly told himself - clearly not understanding the meaning of the word "proud".

Elsewhere, Sophie, who had forgotten to bring her mobile, was distraught that she couldn't apologize to Philip because the network infrastructure in her office had gone bonkers. In a corner of her mind, she was wondering how good it would be if Philip also felt the same way at some point of time in the day. Just as she was about to give up and leave for the day, the network came up. And so did an indication that Philip had sent her an email. She knew it, Philip had apologized profusely, the sweet heart that he was. She couldn't wait to send a message saying she was sorry too. She opened the mail and started reading.

Philip & Sophie - 2007 BC

Philip climbed on his horse and set out to meet Sophie. He met her, started apologizing, got stopped before he could complete his apology, was apologized to, hugged, told he was such a sweetie pie for having travelled so many miles on horseback through mountains, deserts, forests and other assorted landscapes for a simple apology and underwent lot of other general mushy things that would not be mentioned in this blog out of respect to Philip & Sophie. However, this blog, armed with that inside knowledge, would safely say that they lived happily ever after.

Epilogue
If you have learned the lesson about how any new scientific invention can never, ever replace human face-face communication, but unhappy that the 2007 AD version of Philip & Sophie have ruined it for themselves - read further.

Lot of things happened during the "Philip & Sophie - 2007 AD" story line which were cut for brevity. Philip's unexplained feeling in the deep end of his stomach after sending the email, him receiving a call from Sophie's best friend who wanted to convey a message to her but couldn't since she wasn't picking up her mobile phone and not responding to messages, a long thought process where he added one and one and arrived at two (in other words: realize that he had screwed up just about everything), a frantic rush to somehow get his hands on the mail that he sent, realizing computers weren't built to suit slip-ins and slip-outs, an undoubted gift from God when he remembered her Unix mail password which he used to log into her mail server and delete the message without a trace and a few less kbs in a mail which said how sorry he was about the whole thing in the morning which he sent seconds before her network came up. The mail, coupled with the few apology messages that Sophie found in her mobile at home, led to series of events later that evening which would continue to remain Philip & Sophie's little secret. To pry them would be plain uncivilized, but yes, in all certainty, they lived happily ever after too.

Once In A Blue Moon

2007-06-15T04:17:00.000-07:00

A leaves his Virudhunagar home early in the morning with his wife and 18-month year old kid. He makes the trip to Madurai in record time and leaves his family at his wife's place. His son lovingly tugs his shirt asking him to stay. A replies "Baby, I have some very important work to attend to. Let me finish it get back on the double" leaving a kid heart broken and a wife concerned.

B has his business clients from the Ramanathapuram-Tirunelveli belt in South Tamilnadu upto Bubaneshawar in the East. B is an MBA. B also owns an upmarket Honda Civic which none of his other friends have. B manages more than one business at a time. But he would give all that up today. All that, and even more.

C never believed in the 24-hour clock idea. For him, the night began at 10 and then, after an hour or so, it was 8 in the morning. It made perfect sense to him. After all, who would want to do anything at 7 am in the morning ?? Today, for the first time in his 30-year stay on Earth, C realized that there exists something called 4:30am in the morning. He actually pinched himself when we woke up today and immediately vowed he cannot repeat it for any other reason, any time in the future.

D has a big problem. He isn't sure where to go. He can go to Salem, but there is no guarantee he can get one. He can go to Hosur, but he needs a Panzer to travel on Hosur Road. Finally, he sets his eye on Kolar. Heck, he would have gone to hell and beyond if he had to.

E and the missus get stuck in a major traffic jam near home. As they slowly inch their way up the flyover, E gets a good view on why the traffic is jammed. Trying to control himself and failing miserably, E asks if he can just take U-turn and head straight inside. The missus gasps at the general sophistication level of the crowd waiting outside. E is secretly glad the missus never made the trip to madurai cira 1996. Pushing his luck, E asks the missus if she can ride the two wheeler to work alone since he has "some urgent work that has come up". The missus politely indicates her displeasure by breathing a hole through his jacket by breathing fire. E bites the bullet and dutifully obliges by riding to work. But his time will come. In the next two days. It better.

The economy reports a sudden jolt in dairy products, camphor, lottery tickets and card-board.

Hey, Its not every day you have a thalaivar movie released.

A Pinch Of Salt

2007-05-25T04:09:00.000-07:00

1. "Ah, I know why you are not seen outside on the weekends" followed by all-knowing smile.
False. When the two houses that matter to you claim to be in the same city, but are so far apart that when it rains in one place, it's blistering hot in the other, half your weekend is spent inside a Santro cursing the Industrial Revolution.

2. "Things are so easy after marriage. All that you have to do is relax on the couch and wait for the food to be served to you"
Blatant Lie. They forgot to fill you in about the part where you clean up the kitchen while aforesaid provider of food is busy watching VH1.

3. "A (wo)man is a [wo]man's best friend"
Myth. Its the Microwave. And The Refrigerator.

4. "Wow, even your names start with the same letter. You are truly made for each other"
Prevarication. You should see the gravity defying stunts that happen over the remote control.

5. "When you see the missus do things you cannot do, you puff up with pride"
Fabrication. When the missus does Tanjore paintings for a hobby while you cannot draw a straight line even if your life was one the line, yeah right.

6. "Whatever stress you are under, vaporises the instant you see your dog wagging it's non-existent tail in glee at your mere arrival".
True. Blissfully True. So thankfully true.

And So It Ends

2007-04-29T23:49:00.000-07:00

Catch a snail and watch it every inch of the way until it completes the New Jersey Marathon. Or drop a little lactic acid bacteria into a bowl of milk and watch it turn into curd. Or watch the 2007 Cricket World Cup. As for interest levels and thrill factors go, they are more or less the same - no disrespect to the snails and the yeast microbes.

With respect to sheer excruciating length of the show, the 2007 CWC has only one competition. Sindbad from 'Dina Thanthi' (The Daily Telegraph), a daily in South India where the hero tries to slay a monster in a three-pane comic strip (Pane 1 Sindbad stares at monster, Pane 2 monster returns stare, Pane 3 Sindbad wondering aloud whether to use a curse or his sword to overcome the monster which would have died by that time due to old age). However, by the time the first round of matches were over, Sindbad had waded through a slew of such monsters and was wanting more which doesn't say much about the format of the WC. Eventually, Malcolm Speed 'felt' that the tournament might have been 'slightly long'. Ladies and Gentlemen, please put your hands together for The Understatement of The New Millenium.

As for predictability, there are a few close competitors viz. "Kolangal", "Arasi" and "Lakshmi" - three flagship television mega serials where, in a move of pure genius at writing screenplay, the writers have ensured that no matter how many episodes you miss, you would still be able to pick up the story right from the point where you left. Oh, and if you want to point out some unexpected twists in the WC where Bangladesh and Ireland qualified for the Pauper League, they are exactly as soppy as their mega serial counter parts at best. Don't believe me ?? By a show of hands, tell us if you really thought Bangladesh or Ireland had any chance in the Pauper League ?? Anybody ?? Helloooo ??

So, after few months of lugging it around, we get to see a final. No, we finally get to see players grope around in the dark while the match referees and umpires are unsure of how to complete the match when it is written in big, bold letters in the rule book. And yes in a dramatic event of gigantic proportions, Australia won the WC. By a hair's width of 50+ runs (where the hair in question is Keratin from a Rhino's horn). After decimating the opponent earlier in the day. For the third time in a row. And they are unbeaten in the WC for God-knows-how-long. Wasabi icing on Ladies-finger cake.

Some food for thought : How about a WC format where Australia have to play beat _every_ single team to win the WC ?? How about giving Kichaans (the thamizh equivalent of Handicaps) to the other teams and their players ?? Maybe just arrive at different winning criteria for australians (score twice the runs in half as many overs by losing a quarter of the wickets the opponents lost, and if case all criteria are met, the whim of the opposing captain) ?? Play clandestine World Cups when the Australians aren't looking ?? Just plain abolish the sport of cricket and wait for the Australians to forget the game and then start all over again ??

It is evident Cricket needs an overhaul. No, not politician-turned-administrators and no-good-businessmen with a foot-in-the-mouth disease. Not ridiculously whimsical fans whose idea of fandom is (a) having the same hairstyle as their hero or (b) destroying their half built house. Not terminally-greedy managers who hiked the ticket rates beyond a limit that the empty seats easily outnumbered the occupied ones for the semi-final between the world's top ODI team and the current world champion. And definitely not intellectuals who banned people from carrying musical instruments inside cricket stadiums inside the West Indies because of the noise. What next ?? Stripping astronauts out of their space suits because they are heavy ??

Cricket administrators need to buy a new dictionary and look up the word "Relegation". They also need to understand the meaning of the phrase "Tiered Leagues". Have Eight teams in Tier 1 and call it International Cricket. Have Eight more teams in Tier 2 and call it League Cricket. Just to make sure home-bred FTBs (Flat Track Bullies) don't bloat their records, divide cricket records into International and League so that the "Highest Scorer in International Cricket" is not someone with a 600 not out against Scotland and a 12.52 average against Australia. Let teams play test matches and one-dayers against opponents only within their tier. After every year or two, re-visit the rankings and relegate the bottom two teams from Tier 1 to Tier 2. Promote the top two from Tier 2 up to Tier 1. Rinse. Repeat.

Then sit back and see how Pepsi/Coke/Sudarmani Underwear sponsor a team that plays 3-test series and triangular championships against Netherlands and Bermuda.

Pulling The Plug

2007-04-21T22:25:00.000-07:00

On the 16th of April, 2007, brave students closed down the doors and held them with objects and their bodies as shields to protect their classmates. There were long lines queue outside the nearest blood banks in Blacksburg minutes after the news of the bloodbath had broken out. Prayers were held all around the world in memory of the people they don't even know. Internet forums were filled with consolations for families that lost loved ones. The man who delivers newspapers for the assassin's house swells up in tears thinking about the fate of the parents. You seem to understand why it rains during summer.

Immediately thereafter, the first auction opened up on ebay to sell URLs. The names are essentially a mix of the University's name and one of carnage/gore/bloodbath/massacre. They are touted as "unmatchable domain names for selling memorabilia". Other assorted websites are starting to host pictures of the massacre for sale. Certain section are already fearing racial prejudice so much so that their respective embassies issue a statement in that regard. Just about anyone who has a white coat and a fancy leather chair (a total number of, say, Z) is invited to offer psychological insights into the heads of would-be assassins on every single TV show (a total of 2xZ).

In The Near Future Everyone who is silent or keeps to himself is either going to end up in a strait jacket or in solitary confinement. A bored housewife would write her memoirs titled "How I Survived A Mass Murderer In The Neighborhood" with the words "Note: Author lives in Nevada. But has traveled within 25 square miles of Blacksburg in 2007" appearing in small print. It would also include 101 breakfast recipes in the last 101 pages of the 103-page book, but will not affect it's sale adversely. Hollywood will buy out the rights to film the story. They would make a token donation to the University and would offer to invite the bereaved for the premiere, provided they sign an 'No Interviews' agreement. They would also be given a 5 minute feature on the Special Edition DVD as a token of their gesture. All would be forgotten until someone else abuses his/her gun and dedicates it to Eric, Dylan and Cho.

Somewhere in outer space, The Omnipotent Few Who Are Watching Us From High Above are clearly frustrated at their experiment and moved another inch closer to pulling that plug from under Project Earth.

Nethu Rathiri Yamma

2007-04-13T03:37:00.000-07:00

Everyday I walk into office with red-shot eyes, the inevitable question of "Did you lose sleep last night" is raised. Everyone seems to have convinced themselves that its because the of the World Cup and I choose to let them believe. Saves a lot of embarrassing questions.

Before I go into this blog, a few disclaimers
1. I am not ashamed of the fact that my first time was in my late 20s.
2. I am not ashamed of the fact that it was almost an every day affair at home till few weeks back
3. I am not ashamed if people think I am not acting my age by posting about all this.

The problem in our country is that we always put up a very closed projection of ourselves to the public. We frame a set of 'rights' and 'wrongs' for our children. Thus, children aren't given the right exposure at the right time and when they become adults, its only obvious that they get attracted and even become enslaved to all that they missed when they were younger. If only I was allowed to indulge when I was younger, I am sure I would have gotten over it years back and this new found craze wouldn't be as demanding as it has become.

My first time (obviously when I was alone, what were you thinking) was just plain earth-shattering. But just as addictive. And after a while, you start telling yourself you are not addicted, but are just interested. But the truth is there for everyone to see. Closed rooms, prolonged hours with yourselves, showing physical strain and tiredness, the usual - I was well and truly an addict. This makes the part where you come out of the closet to explain things to people doubly difficult. I have had, and am still having a difficulty. But not anymore. Not after this blog.

My one request to all my brothers and sisters out there. Do not be afraid to confess. You are not alone. It is only human to develop a taste for it. Don't heed those sniggers from behind your back. They are all ignorant or jealous or both. Just keep getting better at what you are doing. One day, they would all know what they been missing.

Note : Text below emboldened, increased in size and generally made prominent after
a) a few mails which range from minimal insult to outright libel
b) a few mangled cooking pans at home. Surprisingly, their misshapen form resembles my silhouette.

Viva Final Fantasy XII. Viva God Hand. Viva PS2.

Stomp The Yard

2007-03-23T21:50:00.000-07:00

Average Joe's list of moonwalkers starts and stops with Neil Armstrong. Average Joe was recently informed that Salsa is not always a sauce. Average Joe pretends to look sloshed every time he is invited to a dance. Average Joe doesn't even dance in his own bathroom. Average Joe strongly believes that he is a few light years away from Dancing. Average Joe couldn't be farther from the truth.

Having Average Joke taking dance classes is like asking a Great White to register in the Summer Swimming Course. Every Average Joe is born with one inherent talent that rears it head when the right time comes by. Welcome to the world of Tappanguthu. In the next few minutes, you, the reader, are going to invoke the Tappanguthu beast that was peacefully sleeping inside you and everyone around is going to have their hearts up in their throat - one way or the other.

The first step to a good Tappanguthu dance is footwork. So, you sway your feet like a peacock or you are nimble like a doe ?? Please continue your grace and choose another art from. Tappanguthu is not for you. Not ever. The real Tappanguthu star is blessed with a complete lack of footwork so much so that he needs to be reminded that he cannot keep two paces on his left leg successively. Tappanguthu has just one major move which is a one-size-fit-all. Imagine a leech charging at your left foot from straight ahead. Kill it with all your might. Imagine another leech, this time at your right foot. Kill it. There is a third leech and a fourth. Even a fifth. An army of them. Now kill them alternating between your right and left foot. By the time you kill the 153rd, your footwork is tuned to Tappanguthu. Take a look at exhibit 'A' - Thalaivasal Vijay in "Kavalaipadade Sahodara". Look at his feet and their synchronized movement. Can he possibly be doing anything else than slowly, but surely, killing leeches ??

The second step is efficient use of hands. The old school believes that the art got it's name from the position of the fists which are rolled in, ready to punch. However, the neo-classicals have decidedly recommended against this. A good Tappanguthu always originates with open palms, which are usually shown at the partners face, chest, hips or other convenient areas. When there are two dancers, they trade the 'kuthu' alternately between each other. While Average Joe A pumps at B's face, B pumps at A's chest. After an agreed number of 'kuthu's, they trade places and continue with the same vigor. A cautionary note: The part where both of them agree on a said number of 'kuthu's is very important to prevent life threatening injuries and is hence highly recommended. Exhibit B has Dhanush and Chaaya Singh from "Manmadha Raasa". Enjoy the bilateral, symmetric exchange of 'kuthus'.

The third step is creative usage of the face. Other art forms strongly believe in the maxim 'the face is the index of the mind' and try hard to fit in all the nine emotions into their curriculum. But considering how difficult it is for the dancer and equally painful for the watching public, Tappanguthu offers to simplify it and creates a singular emotion which encompasses the crux of the art. For want of a better word, we will call it 'Lazy Anger'. To distinguish itself from other art forms which primarily use the eyes to emote, Tappanguthu uses the tongue. Extend tongue. Fold tongue inwards. Clamp it with teeth. When tongue is in place, half close both eyelids. There, Lazy Anger. Exhibit C has Vikram in "Gemini Gemini". Look at the lazy look in the eyes and the anger in the tongue. Just perfect.

The last, and probably the most important, component of Tappanguthu is the pelvis. Legend has it that an American with long sideburns, big glasses and funky hairstyle once attended a three day symposium on Tappanguthu in Vadipatti (in the outskirts of Madurai). Totally floored by the creative juices the locals let flow during their jamming sessions, he took his learning back to his country. His pelvis is now history. The pelvis is to Tappanguthu what the safety pin is to a grenade. Unleash one at the right time, and the effect can be quite explosive. Imagine pumping air into a cyle using an air pump. Now imagine that pump being parallel to the ground. Now go with the music and fill 'em up tubes. Exhibit D has Simbu, Nayanthara and Reema Sen from "Yamma Yamma Yammamma". The sum total of pelvis thrusts, if used with a cycle pump, would have inflated all four wheels of a bulldozer.

I can see you breathing heavily, folding your tongue in anticipation. Your feet are ready to move and you rub your hands eagerly. Your pelvis is off the hook. The Beast is waiting to be unleashed. It demands to be fed. Feed it well with "Vaala Meenukum Velangu Meenukkum Kalyanam".

Happy Women's Day

2007-03-08T00:18:00.000-08:00

- Rap is lame. So is Hip-hop. Not to forget Trance. Rock Rules.

- Professional stenographers take hints. Men will fumble despite being given a three-page essay on "what to do, when to do and how to do". If we have to know something, it's easier when we are told.

- In theory, a candle-lit dinner is a candle-lit dinner even if it is taken during a power cut at home. What value-add does an open-air restaurant have ??

- When we look at other women, we always think like anthropologists. Yes, that is more like it.

- "Yes" is not "No". "Yes" might even mean "But Don't Count On It" or "But Not For Long", but definitely not "No". In fact, "Yes" was invented to be opposite of "No" and can never mean "No". Even in exceptional circumstances.

- Every time we hear "Basically, I am looking for a nice guy", we take a deep look into ourselves to see if we are really Columbian drug lords.

- Formula1 is not just driving a car in circles. It is definitely better than jewelry shopping, where most people keep going in circles.

- Diamonds are forever. But life isn't. So let us all live life first, and think about diamonds later.

- We forget our debit card pass codes. We forget our email passwords. We forget our deadlines. So it is not like we intentionally forget any birthdays.

- We are all not Hugh Jackmans out here. But it would be nice to appreciate the fact that we aren't all Charles Mansons either.

- Curd rice is a dish. Making it needs expertise and it is most definitely an upgrade over Hot Water and Instant Noodles.

Eavesdroppers Inc.

2007-02-09T07:11:00.000-08:00

Heard from the bell tower of The Cathedral in Notre Dame/Somewhere from inside The Swamp/ The basement of Opera Garnier/ The Ball Room of the Palace in the Enchanted Forest

"You give us courage. You give us hope. And you give us the confidence that women sometime do make really hasty decisions. Go on, Brother"

On top of an electric pole 100 metres from a well lit building on Outer Ring Road

Crow 1: Scarecrow !! Scarecrow !! (violently jerks and falls into a coma)
Crow 2 (looking at the audience at large): Yes, that is what 'Arunthur and his shirt-tucked-in look' does to us.

Somewhere deep in space

An invisible spirit: So, do you finally concede defeat Mr. Rao ??
An invisible Narasimha Rao: Yes. I do. I did smile once during my marriage reception. This kid here is a piece of art.

The Board Room, Van Heusen Headquarters

Chief Economic Officer: Sir, our plan worked. We clandestinely made Arunthur wear a Louis Philippe suit and now, no one would touch them with a barge pole. I hear the spectacle was quite abominable.

The Idioms Committee, Oxford Dictionary

Data Entry Operator: Are you sure you want to do this ?
Chief Editor: Yeah, yeah. Change "Fish out of water" to "Arunthur in a panchakacham"

In the neighborhood

Earnest Aunt : "All my friends told me that my son-in-law reminds them of someone they know, someone familiar, someone who plays ...."
Smug Arunthur : "Yeah, many say so, especially if they had watched watched Mission Impossible or Mr. & Mrs Smith recently"
Brutally Honest Aunt: "the evil (fill in much-maligned blood relation here) in (fill in generic ekta kapoor's 'K' serial name here) that comes on Star One in the afternoon "

Nalaguraidhoo Island, Maldives

(On watching a sunbathing Arunthur)
Wolfgang Gunther: I wud keill to haav da tan dat guy haas. Ja.
(After a few minutes of patient observing)
Olivier Platini: Monsieur, lookz likez ze waz bornz tannedz.

At the Grand Buffet in The Maaniya Restaurant

"Can you pass me that tuna salad"
"The grilled beef was brilliant"
"Did you try those golden-fried chicken popsicles ?"
"Believe me, I was full after trying two servings of the minced lamb sausage"
"Excuse me, could you help me find out where the bowl of yellow dal is located ??"

A Coral Reef few nautical miles from said island

Nemo: Daddy, what is that thing curled up like an orange furball with fins, all dehydrated on the deck of that boat ?
Marlin: That is over-enthusiasm wrapped in a life jacket, Son. Dory, what should you avoid when you are sea-sick ?
Dory: I know this, I know this. Ermm, uhmm, ahem.

Taped conversation between a legal luminary and a determined wife

"I have double checked it. You do have complete legal immunity if you smother him with a pillow next time he wakes you up at 5 in the morning on your honeymoon trip to celebrate an Indianapolis Colts Touchdown, Superbowl or not".

Sons of Fortune

2006-12-25T03:29:00.000-08:00

Nick wiped the last of his tears. Tears were never really part of his job description, but he told himself that everyone cries when they lose their home. Only, it pained more because it was his loved children who were doing it to him.

When the initial job pitch was made to Nick, he was all too eager to take it up because, in his dreams, Nick always wanted to work with children. He had the strong belief that children were the key to the success of mankind and whatever small part he could play in helping them, he would do it without expecting any return for himself. True to his word, he never did.

Nick walked into the staff quarters. His entire staff was currently asleep. After all, this was probably the only night they could have some well deserved rest after a work schedule that means working round the clock all through the year. Just outside the staff quarters, Nick could see the silhouettes of Rudolph and his friends, all of them busy with their dinner and looking forward to the night on the town. Come tomorrow, when everyone would ask what happened to their lovely home, Nick would not have an answer and that made him sick to the stomach.

Nick had assumed it was going right until some time back. But then, he started seeing things going awry all around. The final straw was the big hole right on top of their very home. But what hurt Nick most was that he could really remember everyone responsible for this right from their childhood, people he loved and cared about. Thinking this, Nick's desperation was slowly turning into anger. Every year, he started off with hope, only for it to be shattered by the same people whom he dedicated his life for. Adults, who once would do anything for him at the drop of a hat, were behaving like jerks who wouldn't want to share their candy even when there was enough and more for everyone. Nick remembered how he told everyone back home that things would be alright after Kyoto. But then, when everyone who agreed earlier disagreed, Nick couldn't help but wonder if these were the same children whom he once taught the values of sharing and co-existence. Nick had to make a decision now and he made a choice. He would not go out this year. No. Not for a bunch of children who would grow up to become bullies. It just wasn't worth it.

As he started walking back to his room, he heard his name being called from behind. It was Jess.
"Nick, I know what you are going through and I know that it isn't easy. But aren't you one who taught to keep personal differences aside for the common good ??".
"But Jess, I am at the point where I don't think I can do anything to help. It's over Jess."
"How could it be over Nick, how could it be ever over until He thinks it is over ??"
"Look at it for yourself Jess, Look around you. Do you even remember how this place looked like when we moved in ?? Don't you see how it looks now ?? Do you see that big hole right on top of our very home ?? Do you have any idea who did it ?? I remember every single one of them. I took care of them, now who takes care of us ??"
"Oh Nick, it was never about us. It was always about them, the children. Why don't you see it ??"
"A despicable species that destroys the home of other species to make one for itself without any guilt or remorse, and you expect me to help them. No Jess, not anymore. It just isn't worth it. It never was and it never will be".
Jess bit her lower lip and suppressed a tear. She failed miserably.

She held his hand and said:
"Nick, during the toughest of times, there is only one thing that keeps people going. Hope. Mortals can lose it. But you, aren't you hope itself ?"
Nick stared at Jess for a second. He had made his decision.

In all his years of service, Nick had always left for work with a happy heart and lot of hope. He was not going to let this year be any different. Maybe, the kids this year were good. Maybe they were great. Maybe, they would do something to reverse everything and set things the way they are meant to be. Maybe, this would be the promised generation that He always spoke about. Nick looked at Rudolph and his friends, Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner, and Blitzen, all decked up for a ready for the ride around the world. He winked at them from behind his glasses. They could all see his smile from behind his beard and nodded. Nick donned his red suit, tugged the rein-deers and off he went into the wintry sky for yet another year of hope and promise.

"Ho. Ho. Ho."

Men In Magenta

2006-12-15T00:50:00.000-08:00

The message from South Africa is loud and clear. If the Indian team doesn't pull up it's socks soon, Cricket is soon going the Hockey way. But do we even have the right team ?? Are we even looking at the future ?? This is an attempt to pick up an all-time Indian eleven that would beat anyone, anytime, anywhere and any day.

1. Sujith Somasundar
Undoubtedly, India's best opener. Sujith Somasundar played two matches for India against South Africa and Australia, but endeared himself to all of us by staying true to the Gully Cricket maxim : If you are facing a ferocious bowler, the best stroke is to get out of the way of the ball by moving few feet away from the leg stump and swish at the ball madly. If it meets, it goes for runs. If it doesn't, the stumps go for a ride. Either way, there is little or no damage to the limbs. Only, in Gully Cricket, we don't have gloves and pads which Sujith was undoubtedly provided with. To be fair to him, the bowler was Allan Donald and the only boundary he scored was a top edge of a bouncer which beat the slips and the 'keeper to the boundary.

2. Vikram Rathour
The Swashbuckling Somasundar has to be paired with Red-hot Rathour. Great batsmen mesmerize the bowler and the watching audience. Greater batsmen like Rathour, conversely, look constantly mesmerized. The only other individual I can think of, who is constantly 'mesmerized' and red in the eye is Vijayakanth. However, It probably is not worth mentioning that the critics call it 'The Sleep Look' and the locals call it 'The Doped Look'. Rathore managed to crack two half centuries in his one day career, but he did it at his own sleepy pace so much so that even the highlight tapes had to be fast forwarded. He returned back to domestic cricket and yawned his way to some more sleepy records.

3. Praveen Amre
If there is one set of people who are glad Amre isn't playing any more, it would be the ground staff handling the pitch microphones. Everytime Amre used to bat, it wasn't a competition between Bat and Ball, but one between Bat and Popping Crease. Amre used to hit it so hard that that had he played a longer innings in Sharjah, Petroleum would have been a natural by-product. Amre hit a career best 84 in a winning cause against SA in SA and also scored a century on debut in Durban. He had a promising career in domestic cricket, both in India and in RSA. But for most of his career, he became pretty occupied in his battle with the Popping Crease. Eventually, the Crease won.

4. Amay Khurasia
By a show of hands, tell me how many of you remember Amay Khurasia ever played for India. Yes, he did play ODIs for India, 12 of them to be exact. To his credit, he debuted with a 50, buf followed it up with a string of scores that could be comfortably represented by an earthling's fingers. Since the part of "String of single digit scores followed by a brilliant career" has already been taken by Marvan Atapattu, Khurasia returned to flog lesser privileged bowlers from Himachal Pradesh and Services on flat tracks.

5. Hrishikesh Kanitkar
Perhaps Kanitkar's singular moment as part of cricket history would have been the fact that he was at the crease when India won that historic match against Pakistan in fading light at Dhaka. One would be hard put to forget Ganguly's wonderful century and Robin Singh's match saving 80-odd in that match. But once you have done that, Hrishikesh would be a match winner. He followed it up with a 50 against Aus in India, but then, in his 30 remaining innings, hardly crossed 20. Understandably, even a Kalimark contract never came.

6. Atul Bedade
Tamil news papers have this habit of making a deal out of just about anything. Atul Bedade happened to be one. On a boring evening, sitting outside our favorite tea shop, we see Dinamalar proudly proclaiming Atul Bedade as the crown prince of Indian Cricket and how he leaves audience breathless with his massive sixes. That made a group of teenagers in Madurai sit and watch the few matches that he played. After a few swear words at the Dinamalar management and a lengthy string of below par performances where Bedade himself was the only object to cross the boundary rope regularly, the teenagers and Atul Bedade agreed for a mutual settlement. Bedade returned to the domestic scene and everyone lived happily ever after.

7. Reetinder Sodhi
Reetinder Sodhi, along with a lesser popular left hander by the name Yuvraj Singh, swept the India U-19 scene when we won the U-19 WC. India were running short of expert all rounders and I prodigiously predicted that everyone just had to wait and watch Sodhi become the next Kapil. Later, they reminded me that I also predicted that Ajit Agarkar would be the Man of The Series in the 1999 WC in England which India would oh-so-easily win. Bummer.

8. Parthiv Patel
It is public knowledge that Parthiv Patel hails from Gujarat. But the current conclusion is that he hails from Anand, which appears to offer an explanation to his butter fingers. Fast tracked into the Indian side before he could play a first class match, Patel still sports a better average on most of the folks mentioned above, but he was so enthralled being before the stumps that he apparently misplaced his priorities behind the stumps. Ask a certain Kumble.

9. Narendar Hirwani
It was Pongal (The Harvest Festival down south) time in Chennai. India were playing the (then) mighty West Indians who thrashed us in Delhi. The last test of the series unfolded in Madras and it was a riot. The WI batsman walked in, ran into Hirwani, scratched their heads and then walked back. 16 wickets for 130 odd runs and India squared the series. Hirwani then plundered the Kiwis when they played us in India. The selectors, in all their wisdom, sent him on a trip to WI, England and New Zealand aka "Graveyard of Indian Spinners Who Are Grown On a Diet of Doctored Dust Bowls". Game Over.

10. Paras Mhambrey
The 1996 series saw two of India's greats debut. S Ganguly and R Dravid. Somewhere in between was Paras Mhambrey's entry _and_ exit. Knowing that the rules for wides in Test Cricket were a bit lenient, Mhambrey took full advantage of it and bowled just about everywhere he could. After he had had his fill pitching the ball in every conceivable position, the selectors politely requested him to get back to Bombay. Thankfully for the cricketing fraternity, Paras obliged.

11. David Johnson
A sling shot action looks really good. Take for example Jeff Thompson. Only, Jeff slings it into the batsman. David thought otherwise. His stock delivery used to pitch miles away from the right hander and inexplicably swing towards the slip. This trick, unbeknownst to the casual cricket observer, completely confounded the batsman, the wicket keeper, the slip fielder and the umpire. Proof: A mad swing by the madder Slater and an acrobatic catch by Azharuddin for Johnson's freaky first test wicket. The video is now a hot favorite for the "How not to bowl" and "How not to bat" classes in cricket academies.

Worthy Mentions
Sadagopan "I look good on TV hosting comedy shows" Ramesh
Debasis "Am I a fast bowler bowling spin or a spin bowler bowling fast" Mohanty
Deep Das "Geographical proximity to the captain and the board president helps" Gupta
Harvinder "Inventor of the hybrid Short-Yorker which pitches like a short-pitched delivery and rises like a yorker" Singh
Dodda "Bowling swalpa chikka(l)" Ganesh

A Few Good Salesmen

2006-11-30T02:38:00.000-08:00

All the foreign documentary makers who have stereotyped India as a country of snake-charmers and cows need to be given a second chance. They can be offered a trip to this road on an auspicious day, and assuming they make it out alive, be asked to re-evaulate their options.
Excerpt from "Welcome to Death Valley a.k.a North Usman Road".

A big poster of a young lady with lots of love for her father in her eyes overlooks the entrance into one of the leading Jewellery shops. It reads "If your daughter doesn't deserve a platinum ring, who else does ??". Within no time, a whole line of fathers with lots of lover for their daughter queues up. Clearly, its not just the mega-serials that tap our sentiments.
Excerpts from "Mega Serials and Their Hidden Agenda"

When Lady A is thinking Parampara Pattu is probably the way to go, Lady B suggests Swayamvara Pattu. Lady C disagrees because Samudhrika Pattu clearly beats them hands down. However, according to the Lady D, that is because they haven't seen Vivaaha Pattu. Somewhere among all this, the store owners laugh their way to the bank and the original weaver from Kancheepuram who made all the four sarees is wondering what all the fuss is about.
Excerpt from "Nobody's Fool"

"This is not the Yellow color that I wanted".
"The Magenta would have been great if it had the border of the Teal one".
"I saw a beautiful saree when I got married in 1978. Do you have the same design for my daughter ??"
The Salesmen could answer "Errmm, there is only _one_ yellow according to the Rainbow", "We don't have that because it would suck" or "The only thing that has stayed the same since 1978 is the Ambassador and we can't give you that" respectively. But he can as well kiss his job Good Bye.
Excerpt from "The Thriving Art of Salesmanship and The Dying Salesman"

"I want this problem fixed".
"I want the feature that Solaris has in this operating system"
"We badly need a solution"
The software fraternity answers "Upgrade to the new release", "Thst is Solaris and this is not" and "You are not big enough for us to spend our time on you" respectively.
Excerpts from "1001 Famous Excuses for Software Folks"

Clearly the software mafia (includes Directors, Managers, Leads, Engineers, Response Center - the works) is the biggest whiner in the history of God's creation. Consider any one listed above from the software fraternity. Workplace is air conditioned round the clock, Free internet, At times free grub, Yearly raises as a right, Free petrol for the select few, Free car for the select few and a probably the best introduction into the marriage market. All this and they barely have to sell anything. Sofware Folks, get a life. Saree Salesmen, I bend my knee and bow my head to thee.
Excerpts from "The Life and Death of Saree Salesmen."

Women always pick the 'n'th saree where 'n' is a complex number that is a derivative of the table's strength to withhold sarees before giving in, the jealous look on the neighboring women's eyes and the strength of the pre-planned collective gasp of amazement let by every salesmen in the floor on cue when they think enough is enough. Popular criteria like a bored and dejected male companion, proximity to lunch time, the last train back home are myths.
Excerpt from "Da Saree Code"

On an average, it takes 72 women hours for a benchmark shopper (Read: Case where there are no visible tears in the eyes of the salesmen and the companion) to buy three sarees. It takes 15 women minutes for a benchmark shopper to buy a Veshti for the male companion. Reason: _Each_ shop has a _zillion_ varieties of sarees. All shops have _the same two_ varieties of veshtis.
Excerpts from "The Dominant Sex Alright, But Which One ??"

If a Double-Sided Saree costs 68000 rupees, wouldn't it be prudent to buy two sarees for 34000 each since
a) one cannot wear both the sarees at the same time
b) two people can wear two sarees while it might be a bit difficult to do it in a double sided saree without breaking the Laws of Physics.
Of course, there is a basic assumption that 68000 bucks for two sarees is within cardiac-arrest levels of the man.
Excerpt from "Favorite Last Questions By Men"

Bold men have tried to force their wish on the saree selection process, but have been rebutted with the unwinnable argument "The saree happens to be the _only_ thing that I like in this whole marriage. Do you want to disappoint me on that too ??"
Excerpt from "Championship Point"

Encouraging the favorite pastime of men (constant complaining for no apparent reason), Keeping million households alive by their wants, Keeping the economy of otherwise struggling areas like Kancheepuram unlike their male counterparts who are bent upon contributing to filthy rich money barons like ITC, UB and the likes, Yep, that demands a standing ovation from all Men (disgruntled or otherwise) to all you Women out there. Go Girl.

Andhar balti (Sommersault) in the end I agree, but undeniably true.

Our Story

2006-11-17T02:50:00.000-08:00

Conceding that this blog is inspired by the genre-defining "Pudhu Pettai" would be an embarassment. Let us say the truth lies somewhere closer to the fact that I am no good at Science Fiction stories. With studios churning out epic after epic with an ever-increasing body count and gallons of ketchup-blood, unsurprisingly, I decided to narrate one of the bloodiest encounters from my own personal life.

A rainy evening in Madurai. 4 teenagers standing around a friend of theirs, all of them seemingly agitated. The camera swoops in on them from the roof of the nearest building and freezes on each of the guys with a voice over.
Voice Over: The guy in the center, breathing like a 1770s locomotive, is Veerasamy a.k.a Veera. Veera is a curious kid with an interesting disposition. If he wanted to know how the color Green would look like, he wouldn't hesitate to kick Dr. Bruce Banner in the face. The guy next to him is Anbu. Anbu aspires to be a terror to any batsman on the field, but in reality is a terror only to the parents of a teenage girl who lives next door. The third guy is Kannan. Kannan is one of the biggest optimists anyone has known. He watches every Vijayakanth movie on the day of the release hoping that atleast this one would be good. That lean thing between Guy #3 and Guy #2 is definitely not an electric wire. That is Muthu a.k.a Baasha. The undisputed leader of the band and yes, a live wire. That fat thing right next to Muthu is not a sack of rice. That is Arunthur. He is not worth describing.

The camera now shows Veera up close, heaving. Cuts to a black-and-white sequence in a hand-held camera of a fight between two teams playing a cricket match. Veera heaves. Cut to a b&w sequence: the umpire declaring our team as winners and us, particularly Veera, laughing at the losers who swear they wouldn't let us play the Final if we ever get there. Veera heaves again. Cut to a b.w.s: Veera, on his way to the Final, runs into said team and rubs it in. Veera continues to heave. Cut to a b.w.s: Veera, on the way back home, gets way laid in a dark alley by guys equipped with dangerous weapons. Veera doesn't appear to stop heaving.

The camera now swivels around the rest of the gang. Each one showing a distinct facial expression that can be caused either by indigestion or extreme rage.
"When ??"
"8 PM"
"Where ??"
"5th Ave and 14th Street"
A nod of the head and the message is understood. We are going to hit back. They don't mess with us. Heck, Nobody messes with us. With no words spoken everyone hurries back home. When everyone is back and ready to leave, it hits Arunthur that folks didn't go home just to change. Arunthur commits the biggest blunder that hitman ever can. He forgot to pick his tools.

"Be right back", says Arunthur and runs home. His first weapon of choice is always the sickle which the maid uses to cut thorny bushes. As he lifts it high up seeing the glint reflect on his face, Cut to b.w.s. with h.h. camera and shaky effect : A much younger Arunthur coming home after watching Devar Magan, seeing the sickle lying around, trying to imitate the scene where Kamal picks one from behind, drawing a straight bloody line from the coccyx uptil the neck, dropping the sickle, suppressing a scream and running to the shower. No, not a sickle. Not too handy. It was then that Arunthur finds his Excalibur.

Cut to the rendezvous point and everyone notices a movement in the darkness. Arunthur, spurred by his new found courage, takes a step forward. Veera puts a hand on his shoulder and stops him.
"Never enter the dark. That is where they have people hidden in vehicles with weapons", says Veera, scanning the darkness with his eyes. Arunthur's courage takes the next flight to Timbuctoo on a one-way ticket. People hidden in vehicles ?? Who are we dealing with here exactly ??

"Ahoy. Is that you guys ??", screamed Muthu.
"Yes", came a strong voice back.
"Come out from the darkness. We want to see you", Muthu screams back.
A beat.
"No, you guys come here", this time there was a visible twitch.
Arunthur and folks look at each other.
"No, you guys come out".
Silence.
"No, you guys come here".
After some heavy persuasion and prolonged screams of "You first", both the gangs decide to take a few steps forward and meet in semi-darkness which is exactly when the lightning cracks, showing us a glimpse of the opponen't contingnet. Clearly outnumbering us 1 to 2. Muthu and Veera walk up to meet two from the other gang while Arunthur is now hanging at the tail end of the pack with the others, trying to remember how he walked into this.

Everytime Veera screams at the top of his voice pointing fingers at the opponents, Arunthur winces when they are going to scream to the mercenaries hidden in the dark. "Try to look least bothered. Don't let them see you bleeding. It's okay to be scared, but don't show it", Arunthur tells himself. As the animated discussion with over-exaggerated movement of limbs goes on in the middle, Arunthur looks from end to end for that hidden vehicle and it's illustrated occupants and mentally finalises the escape routes for him and his friends if and when the opponents give the "Go Ahead" signal (Read: Running for dear life with Army of men yelling expletives chasing). At the end of the discussion, the signal comes. Only it was Muthu waving for the rest of the gang to join in. A truce had been achieved. But what happens next takes everyone by surprise. The opponents want to apologise to Veera. Game, Set and Match - Us. No chases, no weapons, no blood and the War has been won.

Walking back home, smarting over this political victory, Arunthur slowly wipes off the sweat from the back of his neck when no one is looking. Veera suddenly stops all of them.
"Everyone did well, but Arunthur, you were awesome"
"Me ?? Eh .. Really ?? Umm, Why .. exactly ??"
"You know that careless look in your eyes, scanning the area for surprises and not to mention, your size. That definitely put them on the backfoot"
Arunthur has made his bones. Arunthur is now a force to reckon. The next time anyone is in trouble, Arunthur is going in and will do his thing (careless look, hand gestures, looking end to end) and scare the crap out of mobsters. Arunthur might even wear a tuxedo and make offers that people cannot refuse.

"Actually, it was nothing really. With my tool in hand, I don't think I will ever be scared".
"Tool ?? What tool ??"
"This", says Arunthur, showing his Excalibur. A letter opener. Even if the sharpness didn't get them, the rust would have.
"Sheesh, you brought something, this, for what ??"
"I don't know. What did you guys bring ??"
"Nothing".
"What ?? Nothing ?? But all you guys went home !!"
"I went to wear my belt", quips one.
"I went to change my slippers", chirps the other.
"I had had heavy lunch in the afternoon", confesses the third. Arunthur now knows it wasn't anger on his face in the introductory frame with the voice over.
"Seriously, you can't cut even wet paper with this letter opener" and everyone laughs.

Arunthur contemplates a career in mountain climbing and diving head first from there.

From the end credits:

- The "opponent gang" that had around eight or nine people, all of them severly malnourished.
- The dangerous weapons they used to hurt Veera are widely known as hands and legs.
- The word "Tool" does not convey the punch the word "poruL" conveys in Thamizh. Nope. Never in a hundred years.
- It didn't rain that evening. The wet look was included to give Arunthur and his friends some authenticity.
- Arunthur only scratched a portion of his back trying to take the sickle from his back. But more blood means more realistic and hard hitting, and by effect, cult classic.
- 5th Ave and 14th Street are probably in NewYork. In Madurai, you have Keezha Maasi Veedi and Azhagar Kovil Road. The real incident happened near some nameless alley opposite Bhai Kadai.
- A little "extra-fitting" to an average story never hurt.

Scores Say "See"

2006-11-08T19:00:00.000-08:00

this Scorsese blockbuster and undoubtedly, am one of them. If you are really expecting an impartial review from someone who used to check IMDB on a daily basis over the last year to see what's up with this movie, all that I can say is that my heart, well and truly, goes out for you.

Before I get into the review, do be informed that there are spoilers aplenty. A spoiler is anything that reveals information about a movie which could spoil the viewing pleasure. So, if you are one of those eccentrics who barks at your friends even for spilling inconsequential information, leave now or hold your peace.

With the movie being a remake of "Infernal Affairs", a movie I thoroughly enjoyed, comparisons to the original are inevitable and more often than not, the remake is conveniently thrashed concluding that it would never match it's original. "The Departed" begs to differ. Although I wouldn't say that it beats the original, it clearly stands up on it's own merit. Before I start on what worked, let me get the "What Didn't Work" part done.

Why the "rat on the railing" scene ?? Shouldn't those directorial touches pass you by instead of trying to jump and strangle you ??

The equivalent of "344 Wash Ave" in the original was iconic. The DiCaprio/Sheen sequence and the DiCaprio/Damon sequence pales in comparison to the Leung/Wong and Leung/Lau scenes from the original. In the original, the building was a character. In the remake, the building is, ermm, a building.

A plot hole to drive a hovercraft in : Leung had to call Lau to the building because the only person who knew his real identity, his best friend and mentor - Wong - had been killed there trying to protect Leung's identity. He was at a dead end and his reaction is understandable. DiCaprio, on the other hand, only had to sit at home and watch re-runs of Seinfeld waiting for Wahlberg to return.

Costigan vs Chan - A desperate, angry Chan over a neurotic, angry Costigan.
Sullivan vs Ming - A conflicting, but somewhat sympathetic Ming over an opportunistic, dislikeable Sullivan.
Advantage Infernal Affairs.

Now for what works:

Jack Nicholson - I forgive you for doing "Anger Management". You still have to beat "A Few Good Men" and "The Shining" before you retire.

Matt Damon - Sullivan is probably second only to Ripley.

DiCaprio vs Leung - An absolutely brilliant performance by DiCaprio, but a powerfully moving one by Leung. Let us just call it a tie.

"With a loaded gun at your head, What is the difference ??"
"I am the one who is doing his job. You must be the other guy"
"Cranberry Juice ??"
"One of us had to die. With me, it tends to be the other guy"
William Monahan, I am going to wait for your next movie.

The music score with Rolling Stones (Gimme Shelter), Roger Waters (not exactly the best rendition of "Comfortably Numb", but still) and Dropkick Murphys (Shipping up to Boston). Awesome.

Watching Scorsese get back to a genre which has his stamp all over it. I now know how people would have felt watching Michelangelo paint the Sistine Chapel.

I Love It - I Love It Not

2006-10-27T21:02:00.000-07:00

Some great performances by bowlers after having to watch them get massacred all around the world. Ntini gets a five-for last night. A total of 250 runs scored for around 16 wickets in 80 overs few days back. Does anyone remember the joke that was 860 runs in less than 100 overs ?? Forget the dustbowls and enjoy watching batsman shiver when Bond and Ntini run upto the crease. Just implement the two-bouncers rule and get the C back in Cricket. Good. Finger-licking Good.

The splurge of One Day cricket being played. Hail to everyone who calls it Pyjama Cricket. With Innerwear Cricket (20/20 for the uninitiated) just around the corner, soon everyone is going to forget how to fend a rising delivery. Bad. Mind-numbingly bad.

Surprises, and a good number of them. Perennial dark horses New Zealand showing their team is far greater than the sum of it's individuals. An old and considered-dead dynasty called West Indies cricket resuscitating itself back to life. Renowned chokers SA preparing for a slug fest against Aus to rekindle some old rivalries. Good. Fist pumping good.

Which smart aleck thought of this format ?? A six-match parade of mediocre cricket capped off with the biggest of them all, Zimbabwe Vs Bangladesh. [ For Football fans: Andorra vs Liechenstein For NFL fans: Texans vs Raiders ] Who makes these decisions anyway ?? Bad. Are-you-out-of-your-minds Bad.

No dead rubbers towards the end of the round robin stages with most matches being a virtual Quarter-Final or atleast with playoff (if I could use that word ;-)) implications. Good. Thank-goodness-for-that Good.

The World cup is six months away. The World cup. The biggest prize in ODIs. Just six months away. What business on earth is a tournament called the mini world cup doing this point of the year ?? Ah, the bottomless coffers of the cricket boards. Bad. Greedy-dirty-swines Bad.

At the ristk of speaking too soon, the Australian cricket team biting dust. Good. Heart warmingly good.

The blue billion ads with Shah Rukh Khan and Sourav Ganguly. Bad. Singularly Bad.

Probably the strongest wake up call to the Indian team before the World Cup. The boot is polished and shined to kick out complacent batsmen like Virender "Footwork is for Michael Jackson" Sehwag, Suresh "I field like nuts and I bat for peanuts" Raina, Mohammad "Heck, First I need a place to bat" Kaif, Irfan "Am I a batsman or a bowler or both or neither" Pathan and Yuvraj "I like to relax for 15 matches after a century" Singh. Good. Billion times Good.

Extraaaaa Innings. How does it feel to be a Yorkshireman or a Southern Australian and listen to a sitting Member of Pariliament who is hell bent on inventing ridiculous idioms in your mother tongue at the drop of a turban ("You have to break an egg to make an omlette. You have to break out of your shell to score runs")and intellectually stimulating questions like "If India play well, they would win. Wouldn't they ??" from an afternoon soap opera queen wearing strapless tops ?? Bad. Barfing Bad.

Empty stadiums. The average Indian cricket sports fan is known for his globalalised knowledge in cricket. S/he never used to care who played whom as long as it was a worthwhile matchup. May his/her soul rest in peace. If India fails to make it to the Semis, the coffer-totting cricket boards and the the sponsors can buy a khadi-kraft towel and cover their heads. Bad, for the disappearing love of sports and Good, for the sucker-punch to the greedy cricket boards.

Few More Good Men

2006-10-12T23:46:00.000-07:00

Talking about movie duos, some remember popular icons like Amitabh Bachan and Jaya Bhaduri while others remember under-rated pairs like Sivakumar and Saritha. There is another unclassified lot which remembers Satyaraj and Nameetha. This blog is not about any of them, but tries to acknowledge a few other stellar pairs which don't make omlettes around the other's navel.

5. Dicaprio and Scorsese

I can see the pro-scorsese lobby hinting that there is a typo and the name of the actor is actually spelt D-e-N-i-r-o. I perfectly understand. "Raging Bull", "Cape Fear", "Taxi Driver", "Casino", "Mean Streets", "Good Fellas", "King of Comedy", "New York, New York". Just how could one justify leaving out this celebrated pair from _any_ movie related blog ?? Hmm, maybe by the fact that, in reality, the author of the blog is a charlatan who has just seen only one of the aforesaid works ?? What DeNiro was in the early 80s, DiCaprio is becoming in the 2000s. With performances in "Gangs of New York" and "The Aviator" breaking him out of his candy-boy image he acquired from that movie with a big ship and a bigger iceberg, DiCaprio has definitely broken into the big league. The new Scorsese-DiCaprio movie, "The Departed", has been critically acclaimed (like many other Scorsese movies) and has also been a commercial success (unlike many other Scorsese movies). DiCaprio and Scorsese have already announced their new project, a bio-pic on Ted Roosevelt. The DiCaprio-Scorsese combine might not have achieved what the DeNiro-Scorsese pairing achieved, but it certainly looks good to get there someday.

4. Alfred Hitchcock and James Stewart

Alfred Hitchcock is a man who could make a nail-biting thriller with a cup and saucer set. Such is the immense talent of the man that he made people hesitate even before hitting the shower. When he combines with the everyday-man persona of James Stewart, the movies become startlingly life-like that it could actually happen to you. Their resume reads the under-appreciated "Rope", the slightly-over-the-top "Man Who Knew Too Much" and the classic-for-the-ages "Vertigo". At this point, it is well worth a shot to put forth Cary Grant as Hitchcock's best leading man (North by Northwest, To Catch A Thief). But James Stewart pulls one back with what is probably one of their best works in that gem of a movie called "Rear Window". Grab it first and watch it now.

3. Bhimsingh and Sivaji Ganesan

Whoever says Sivaji Ganesan hammed his way through his movies would probably also say that Charles Babbage was a worthless scientist because he didn't invent the Pentium Chip. Sivaji has had great movies with just about any director, a nod to his versatility. BR Panthulu stakes his claim as probably the best director to have worked with Sivaji. See for yourself : VeerapaaNdiya Kattabomman, Sabaash Meena, Kappalottiya Thamizhan and KarNan. Two biopics, A mythological costume drama and a light-hearted comedy to bring out different facets of the actor that is Sivaji. But with due respect to Panthulu, Bhimsingh beats him at the post with his contemporary, serious social movies. Be it a cripple who longs for acceptance in "Baaga Pirivinai" or a brother who defined the love for his sister in "Paasa Malar" or a disappointed husband who never stops trying in "Padithal Mattum Podhuma", Bhimsingh and Sivaji brought the movies closer to home than ever before.
Note : I have not even mentioned other classics like "Paalum Pazhamum", "Paarthal Pasi Theerum", "Padikkadha Medhai" and "Paava Mannippu".

2. Sergio Leone and Clint Eastwood

An actor/director combination which has been forced to work with each other for a bunch of listless sequels are available by the dozen. Mel Gibson and Richard Donner come to my mind immediately. What Leone and Eastwood did was to make the three movies great enough to be stand-alone movies despite being sequels of a sort. (Nitpickers: Yes, "Good,Bad and The Ugly" is technically a prequel.). For generations of people who have seen their famous super stars deliver a performance of infinite style with limited or no dialogue, The Man With No Name might not come out as someone new. But to imagine that even today the Simbhus and the Vijays rely on what Clint Eastwood did 40 years back speaks for itself. The barren landscape, the steely eastwood and some inventive camera work makes this duo one of the best. With a heavy heart, Steven Spilerberg and Harrison Ford, who combined to make what is possibly the best trilogy to date, take a bow and enter my "All Time Trilogies List" or some such.

1. Tim Burton and Johnny Depp

True they have made only four movies (excluding "Corpse Bride") unlike Chuck and Aaron Norris who have doled them out by the score. True Tim Burton at times makes movie that are so hard to understand. True that Tim Burton has made some great movies with other actors (Michael Keaton, for example). True that Johnny Depp has made other great movies with many other directors. But for the sheer amount of visual enjoyment that the three movies have given me, be it the backdrop or the performances and the colosally varied plots they have, I vote for Burton-Depp as the most entertaining Director-Actor combine that I have ever seen. While you can pin most of the actor-director combines under one broad head, Burton and Depp beg to differ with a dark fairy tale, a failed director's bio-pic, a children's joy ride and a ghoulish thriller. Ranks one in my book definitely.

Burton is no stranger to challenge the limits on visual creativity. His Batman movies stand tribute to that. Hence it is not a surprise when Tim Burton brings his own unique vision to the screen - be it a self-centered american suburb or the 1950s Hollywood or a mysterious chocolate factory or a turn-of-the-century village in upstate New York. Ably complementing this visual brilliance is Depp in his roles as a misunderstood machine-man, a complicated director, an eccentric inventor and an honest, resourceful but bumbling cop. Stand-out movie-fare.

Disclaimers, Other honorable mentions and Plain Lame Excuses:

I notice that hardcore movie fans still cannot believe that they didn't see Akira Kurosawa & Toshiro Mifune (Yojimbo, Sanjuro), arguably one of the greatest pairs to have ever graced filmdom, get a single mention. Hindi movie fans might find it hard not to see Prakash Mehra & Amitabh Bachan (Zanjeer, Muqqadar Ka Sikkandar, Sharabi) in this list. PLE #1: I have did my homework and collected Kurosawa-Mifune DVDs. Just give me some more time. PLE #2: My knowledge of Hindi movies is second only to my knowledge of Organic Chemistry. Next to nothing.

Back home, SP Muthuraman & Rajinikanth have churned out such commercial hits like "Nallavanukku Nallavan", "Guru Sishyan" and the master-kung-fu-master-teach-me-kung-fu inspired "Paayum Puli" while the yester-year combination of K Balachander-Nagesh have some timeless classics in "Neer Kumizhi", "Anubhavi Raja Anubhavi", "Edhir NeechaL", "Bama Vijayam" and "Major Chandrakant". K Balachander also has his share of classics with Kamal Hassan in "AvargaL", "Apoorva RagangaL", "VaRumayin Niram Sivappu" and "Unnal Mudiyum Thambi".

For all card carrying members of the pacifist group "Equality to women in the blogosphere, or else...", Saritha (Achamillai Achamillai, Thanneer Thanneer) and Sowkar Janaki (Iru KodugaL, Edhir Neechal") have had some memorable performances with K Balachander while Savithri has a few with BhimSingh (Paasamalar, Padithal Mattum Podhuma, Paarthal Pasi Theerum). So, there.

If you are planning to fast unto infinity because I missed your greatest movie duo of all time, the Klueless Karan Johar/Shah Rukh Khan combination or the Self-indulgent Selva Raghavan/Dhanush combination, do accept my best wishes for a resounding success in your attempt.

Wham, Bam and Thank You Mr. Defensive End

2006-09-26T23:06:00.000-07:00

Few days back I read a post by my friend about his trip to New York in which he describes his distaste for American Football (in his own words, "Fraud Football"). The First Critic screams back at me for filling up a substantial portion of the mail covering the current state of the Steelers after their loss against the Jags on Monday Night Football. My mom thinks watching burly men run around in tights and hit each other's helmets is singulary resonspible for my periodic screaming at everyone. In essence, there seems to be a complete dislike for American Football in the vicinity. Considering the amount of time I spend daily watching/reading/playing it is substantial, there has to be a way for me to justify it. Ergo, this blog.

I am not going to deny the fact that American Football has it's own disadvantages. Their downright reliance on statistics and records for one. "X becomes the first player in the history of the NFL to have scored a 10 yard run on a 3-and-out situation against the Chicago Bears in a Monday Night Football game while trailing by 10 points or more in an away game". This is something similar to saying "Harbhajan Singh becomes the first player in history to score a boundary of the third ball of McGrath's 9th over when India is chasing a score of 224 in 50 overs at Perth". Frankly, who even cares ??

The winner of the Super Bowl is the World Champion. Clap Clap. Hear Hear. Applause Applause. Only, the NFL has 32 teams from the length of breadth of a single country called the United States of America. Even the winners of MLB and NBA are World Champions, but atleast they have one team (Toronto Blue Jays and Toronto Raptors respectively) from outside of the US (although many still think "Canada ?? Isn't that our far-northern protectorate ??").

But all this shouldn't take the shine out of the game or the organisation that runs it, the NFL.

For starters, the regular season and its scheduling. The NFL schedules its games in such a way that any given team X would have played all the other teams in the league in a phased manner, atleast once at home and once on the road, within a block of 8 years. No cases of England playing Australia every two years while the Zimbabweans tend their farms and chicken waiting for their next tri-series with the mighty kenyans and the invincible Bangladeshis.

If you are strategically inclined, then American Football is for you. The Offense can Rush/Pass, using a Play Action/ Draw/ Screen/ Reverse/ Double Reverse by giving the ball to the Half-back/Full-back/Wide Receiver/Tight End. At times, the QB himself does the scramble. Not to be outdone, the defense can either choose to Blitz the QB/run a Man Coverage covering the Wide Receivers/run a Zone Coverage for Pass Protection. All this happens for a single play, play after play. If some half-baked NFL fan can sound off so much, imagine the possiblities when two experienced head coaches like Bill Belichic and Bill Parcells go head to head.

Unlike Football (where a handful of players can rest at any given time) or Cricket (where only a handful of players play at any given time), American Football has all the 22 players on the field performing a certain function. Run, Blitz, Protect, Pass, Scramble, Tackle, Sack, Intercept, Fumble, Return, Punt, Block.

To all the Football (Round Ball, 11 players, Remove upper vest on scoring a goal) fans : Have you seen what European Football got reduced to ?? ESPN Star proudly annouces a program which is about "the clubs, the players, their girl friends, their gossips". Sad.

The NFL has a strict substance abuse policy. It would have been "Good Bye Warney" a long time ago.

The NFL has a strict salary cap policy. No Abramovich-ish supermarket-of-a-football-team here.

It appears to be entirely normal to headbutt someone in the chest even if they had not insulted anyone in the immediate family.

Thanks to it's relative unpopularity in India over other games, one doesn't have to put up with
a) a billion experts who have a say on just about anything that happens on the field and seem to know just the right way to run the national team
b) a horde of players asking me to drink/wear/use/drive/eat/invest in/buy something which I have no need for.
c) a dozen tv news channels running a dozen programs with a dozen no-good retired players saying nothing new.
As an added bonus, it gives me that pseudo "hey this guy knows his game" look despite having watched less than 20 games in my whole life.

Lastly, the game is still pristine and untouched by the hands of thamizh movie producers. No rip roaring sequences of "Jeyam" Ravi/"Thimiru" Vishaal/"Manmadhan" Simbu making that game winning touchdown to save the day. Atleast, not yet. Gulp.

Another Week, Another Adieu

2006-09-12T00:23:00.000-07:00

But this time it's not a teary one for me like the last week because it is only Michael Schumacher who decided to hang his boots. While more than half of the motorsport fandom mourns his departure, I am going to try and break a few myths about the one man whom I have seen only once, from behind a wired fence, but gone onto detest like never before.

A disclaimer before you proceed further. What you are going to read might hurt. A burning desire to take the nearest sharp object and land up at my door is imminent. Your vocabulary of swear words will be refreshed. Your pillow will go out of shape. An itch to leave an anonymous comment will develop. Before you do all this more:

- If you are one of those fan boys who started watching Formula 1 after or from the 2000 season, just keep watching your race recordings of M Schumacher. I couldn't care less for your opinion on Formula 1, my blog or life in general.

- If you started watching Formula from the 98 season, tell me what made you to follow M Schumacher of all people. I started at the same time and I couldn't bring myself to.

- If you started watching Formula 1 from even before (Senna, Prost and the likes), Yes, do leave your comments with your names. I would much appreciate it.

- If your Formula 1 days started even before, (Villeneuve Sr and the likes), I bow to thee and thy superior knowledge. Maybe you have a valid point about M Schumacher which I cannot see.

Schumacher is the best driver to have ever driven a Formula 1 car

Virender Sehwag scored a century on debut, hence he is greater than The Don. Did I hear you laughing your head off ?? Precisely what I do when one from the "MS for life" club spouts such fundaes. Shall we have a consensus on how it is impossible to compare two people from two different ages ?? Brabham and Senna and Mansell drove in an age which was devoid of so many technical advancements that are available now. Heck, Schumacher is not the best driver to have ever driven a Formula 1 car in his own age, forget all-time great.

Give MS a Minardi, and still he will be a World Champion
I got three numbers for you. 1998. 1999. 2005. Give MS an all-conquering Ferrari and he still cannot win. End of arguement.

MS is the rain master.
Brazil 2003 - MS parks his car a few laps before the race.
Spa 1998 - MS drives on the racing line and extends it to the back of Coulthard's Mclaren.
Hungary 2006 - Tries one overtaking too many and breaks his nose, I mean the car's.
Australia 2005 - As his wont, MS ends his race with Heidfeld's.

Rain Master ?? Bah.

Further, proof that Schumacher can't see well in the dark. Monaco 2004.
Proof that Schumacher can't see well in broad daylight. Shanghai 2005.
Ergo, Schumacher is blind.

MS resurrected Ferrari. If Ferrari is a champion, it is because of MS

Another favorite rant of mis-informed fan boys. If MS is a sea-anemone, then Ferrari is the clown fish. People who have seen MS drive for ferrari in the late 90s swear by his talent and sheer will and I completely agree that it was his resolve that brought Ferrari from the mid-pack to the forefront. But then, there came a point, in the early 2000s where the Ferrari dominance over the rest of the pack gave MS an unassailable lead over his rivals.

Take for example the careers of MS's team mates. Eddie Irvine. People who probably saw him in the Jaguar first would be hard pressed to believe that at one point of time he was a championship contender with Ferrari. Heck, wikipedia reports that had the current scoring system been used then, Irvine would have been World champion in 1999. In 2000, he made the move to Jaguar. He disappeared. Did he actually lose his talent overnight from runner up to nobody ??

Rubens Barrichello consistently finished second to MS in the championship ratings when he was with Ferrari. With Honda, he is competing against Christian Klien and Mark Kubica. Did some ET just steal his talents ??

An year back, all that Felipe Massa did was to whine after every race. This year, our man wins races, blocks alonso and talks about how winning is the only thing that matters for him. So, did he just load a "Champion Driver" program like in the Matrix ??

In short for the impatient, three drivers who seemed to challenge for the world title, are/were reduced to also-rans out of Ferrari. Unless MS comes out and proves he isn't one, (which he would so conveniently avoid with a tearful, heart-breaking farewell speech in Brazil), all that the fanboys can do is to speculate. And before you start, V Rossi did just that.

MS's honesty and commitment leaves me speechless

Believe me, it leaves me speechless too.

In Adelaide '94, MS tries to tell Damon Hill a secret and in the process takes his car out along with his own. If Damon Hill had retained his position, he would have been the champion.

In Jerez '97, MS tries to tell Jacques Villeneuve the same secret, however the FIA decides that he has shared one too many secrets and strips him off his points. Incidentally, had JV been taken out, guess who would have been the champion ??

In Monaco '06, MS inexplicably tries to tell the very same secret to the residents of the principality. The FIA docks him 20 places.

Despite the FIA scheming to stop his wins, MS comes out as a champion every time

Seriously, I lost count of the number of times when an FIA ruling had explicitly suited MS. I am not going to point out the stewards from Italy (from where Ferrari comes from) gave Alonso a penalty which Renault clearly showed was wrong by TV replays. How about the incident at Hockenheim in 2003 when the stewards pushed him back on trace while almost everyone else is asked to leave the car ?? The fact that Hockenheim is in Germany is probably irrelevant.

Renault's mass dampers are off despite stewards ruling it fair. BMW-Williams get accused for having a car with incompatible wheel base. But for some reason, the Ferrari flexi wings and the coolants take their own sweet time to be resolved. You tell me.

Michael Schumacher is a self-made man

Pray tell me if there is a small foot note for the tactical genius of Brawn and Todt somewhere in the biography of Michael Schumacher. Brawn is the guy who once got MS up in first after a fourth routine pitstop. Yes, a fourth pitstop which was routine, you read it right. Todt is the guy who did this small matter of giving MS a car that hardly developed a problem since Hockenheim 2001. Ah, never mind them small fish.

You are plain jealous of Michael Schumacher

I never had any qualms agreeing to the fact that MS is one of the best drivers to have ever driven a F1 car. The 2000 season, a testimony to the fact that one can never underestimate MS and his will to win. The 2003 season where he came back to win after a mishap in the family. MS's cool composure when the back end of his car on fire, and what more, going on to win the race. MS's qualifying lap times which are down until the final few seconds, and then, as the curtains are coming down, in comes a fast lap which is so appropriately described "Michael Magic". People who have been following MS's career from the Jordan days remain unswayed from his fandom, courtesy: his unquestionable talent. To get a good team become a great team shows his self belief and skills. But the problem comes when everyone seems to forget that The Big Red Machine was _the_ important cog in MS's winning wheel. MS this, MS that and a minor thank you to the fantastic pitcrew which gets him out of the pits mere seconds before the challenger. Oh well, what is so difficult in tightening up the screws ??

MS is the seven time World Champion. Now, beat that.

Yes, he has the numbers. I am sure he would win it this year and retire as perhaps the only 8 time Formula 1 world champion for the next zillion years. But then, there is more than just the statistics of Championships that defines a champion in my book. Valentino Rossi is a champion, his winning does not depend on the bike. Lance Armstrong is a champion, he fought against heavy odds both on and off the field. Rahul Dravid is a champion, he doesn't whine everytime he loses. Tom Brady is a champion, he was thrown into the fire and he came out trumps. Gail Devers is a champion, she didn't run behind Vola Patolidou threatening after failing due to a fault of her own. Mika Hakkinen is a champion, he was gracious in victory and defeat. Carl Lewis is a champion, he never cheated. Vishwanathan Anand is a champion, humility is a trait he knows. What Michael Schumacher could ever be is an Eight time winner of the Drivers' Championship in Formula 1 at best. Period.

A(tta)Gassi

2006-09-06T06:30:00.000-07:00

I don't know why I started following you, maybe because you didn't have too many fans in my friends circle in the early 1990s. Maybe because you were the underdog then. Or it was just the hair.

People talk for hours over the aces sent down by the Ivanisevics and Samprases, ask them about your stellar service returns - that whirring forehand flying inches away from the side line or that blistering double-fisted backhand that goes unanswered - and they start talking about last night's mega serial.

Now then, what's with you and five setters ?? Lose one, lose two, come back and win all three. Do you ever get tired of winning five setters ?? It probably gives you thrills, but it makes us lose sleep.

For an entire generation that wasn't old enough to witness the famed Connors-McEnroe rivalry, you gave the Sampras-Agassi upgrade. No one could possibly complain.

When you entered the tennis world, all clad in multi-colored apparel and gold earrings , most of them would have thought that you were one of those showmen who would probably do well in Las Vegas, not on the gruelling tennis courts. You won Grand Slams on all the four courts which many of those famed Wizards could only dream of.

You didn't win the wimbledon like Sampras did.
You are not perfect like Federer.
You never dominated the field like Lendl.
You weren't acrobatic like Becker.
You are not even the greatest tennis player in your own house.

But You made us scream in joy in 92.
You hit gold in 96.
You made us give it back to all those naysayers in 1999.
You gave us that rare moment in 2005.

Agassi. You legend.

Cauliflower Manchurian

2006-08-27T22:08:00.000-07:00

ி

MGRstill rules the "By-pass Buses" segment. What are the odds of you having to watch "Ulagam Sutrum Vaaliban" (Travelling Youth - Ashokan as Evil Scientist and RS Manohar as Head Henchman With Scar On Left Cheek), "Engal Thangam" (Our Gold - Ashokan as Evil Landlord and RS Manohar as Head Henchman With Scar On Right Cheek) and Rickshawkaran("Rickshaw Driver" - Ashokan as Evil Businessman and RS Manohar as Head Henchman With Scar On One Of Them Cheeks ) on three different buses successively ??

In Rickshawkaran, Manjula is handed down a severe punishment by her principal, is forced to appear before the college management committee and is almost thrown out of college - all because there is a picture of her and her boyfriend (MGR) taken in a beach and this has brought disrepute to the college. I recommend this principal be transferred to DPS, Delhi.

Sleeping with your cheek on the glass window in a crowded bus - Good.
Waking up in the middle of the night and be able to read the lettering on a tanker lorry carrying fuel that is inches away - Bad.
By-pass riders do not just by-pass the inner roads, they by-pass your next 40+ years on Earth.

It took me 45 minutes to guess the name of the river that runs through a town called KaveriPattanam. A clear sign of age catching up with me.

Thiruvalluvar, Pisirandhayar, Avvaiyar, Ilangovadigal and their likes would do good to stay where they are and control their urge to visit their native land. How would you feel if an old uncle you hated kept mistaking you for your aunt because you look like her when she was young ?? If the answer is anywhere in the vicinity of "disappointed", try remembering that ல is not ள. And ள is most definitely not ழ். Same goes for the ன, ண and ந family too. The state of ர் and ற isn't far behind either. These are _not_ interchangeable even if they sound similar, just like you and your aunt are not because you look similar. No. Why don't we all just continue our stellar job at destroying the written english language with our "hv"s, "2morrow"s and "4 me"s and let Thamizh die it's natural death ?? தமிழுக்கு வன்தனை செய்யாவிடினும், நின்தனை செய்யாதிருத்தல் நலம்.
ps: Any error is attributed to the style sheet and the style sheet only.

A rare celestial event went unnoticed on sunday. I managed to cross the (in)famous Bommanahalli traffic crossing without having to rest both of my feet on the ground once (And yes, smart aleck, I was riding a two wheeler). Can you believe that ?? The Bommanahalli circle without vechicles ?? The Bommanahalli circle, which is the Bermuda Triangle of Bangalore where just about every running vehicle gets sucked into, empty of them ?? Miracles do happen when you least expect them. All you people who work (or worked) in Electronic City or Garvebhavipalya are either shedding copious tears of joy / holding the hand of the person next to you and leaning on their shoulder with a glint of hope in your eyes / lighting candles with a big smile like in the airtel ad / other generic inspirational gestures. Wake up, It's not going to happen again in the next million years.

Thamizhnadu has its share of funny sounding towns. Take for example Vaadipatti (Come Here Town) and Thaadikombu (Bearded Stick) near Vaadipatti. That isn't all. There is a town called Gobi (Cauliflower in Hindi) near Erode. Nope, it's not over, on the way to Gobi, I see this town called OthaKudhirai (Lonely Horse) near Gobi. Before I could go "Eh, what ??", I cross this next town called KavundhaBaadi (Upturned Body ??). I decided not to pursue it further.

Terra Farming

2006-08-10T11:07:00.000-07:00

"Doctor, care to explain ??" asked the stern voice of Lord Cas Te of The Board, looking at my design of the new Self Destructors (Models 22X and 22Y ).

I took a deep breath and looked at the models. Extremely supple dipods with a capacity to expand exponentially under short notice. Ergonomically designed for maximum productivity. I couldn't find a flaw. But Lord Cas had a point. He was still miffed at my failure last time. But let us just wait a second and look at you. You, the reader, blinking like a captain caught in a radio-active ionic storm with a cargo of nano-atoms. You people from the past, so primitive. Let me jog you back a few millenia and refresh your memory.

The Board. A body containing the most powerful men in the planet. A group of individuals who have made life possible after the population implosion of the 860's. A group that had turned around the fortunes of this planet when almost everyone else had given up or just died.

With the teeming millions literally trampling on each other, it was The Board that came up with an intuitive solution. Terra Farming. Considering the infinite size of the universe and the invention of economical space travel, Terra Farming was expected to address the expansion problems. Once the survey vehicles find planets that are big enough to accomodate substantial portions of colonies, the job of the Cleansers would be to find a way to make the planet inhabitable. While a majority of the Cleansers community developed solutions that left the planet wholly uninhabitable after Cleansing, I came up with a solution that swept the industry by storm. Self-Destructors. Or SDs as everyone else started calling them. The process was fairly simple. Understand the terrain. Design an SD. Deploy it. Wait for inhabitational levels on the planet. Let the SDs self destruct. Voila, A whole, fresh planet ready for colonising without any of the harmful biological agents that left behind. With my innovativeness and resourcefulness, The Board was able to reap planet after planet and establish settlements. Until now.

Recently, The Board's survey vehicles that scan the outer rim of the galaxy had found a planet large enough to handle the population explosion for the next million years. I had jumped at the opportunity, but only to fail. Terra Incognito was entirely uninhabitable, but it didn't pose problems of radioactive gases like Deepstar IV or an excessively salty atmosphere like Abyss XL. It was just filled with waste. Tonnes of it. On it. Inside it. Around it. It seemed to be a fairly docile planet which prompted me to design the Quadropod model of SDs (Models JP1 to JP9) which were best suited for this. The solution was straight forward. The Quadropds would clear the planet of the huge quantities of waste by eating it (bravo, bravo) and then self-destruct (hear, hear). Only, not.

"Certainly, My Lordships. At the stroke of dawn, we are going to deploy our two models into Terra Incognito. These models are programmed to consume just about anything and everything Terra Incognito has to offer. I had equipped them with the usual CG chips that worked for us in the planet of Oceanus. As you all know these chips would find and create new needs for the models to devour just about every kind of geological waste that the planet has. This would complete Mission I of our Cleansing, making Terra Incognito inhabitable for our people by clearing out the planet's debris on, around and inside of it."

"The last time you made models that looked visibly different from each other, so that they would fight for supremacy and self-destruct after the Cleansing is done. After deployment, the models became friendly despite all your assurances that they would finish each other off. It took some nano-missiles for The Board and some gimmicking by you to clear that mess up. This time, you show me just two models with absolutely minimal difference that we can't distinguish one from the other and you expect them to finish each other off ??"

Ah, my moment of triumph comes now. It is always a pleasure to be asked to show your genius on demand like an art gallery rather than just displaying it for everyone to see like an street magician.

"Gentlemen, I present to you, RG I. I am going to add RG I into the genetic structure of both these mdoels. Once fully developed, RG I would exhibit traits of aggression and irrationality that would finish them off without any external intervention"

"The JP models had a very small brain which you said would make them terribly slow to think and decide, not know right from wrong and hence become extinct. As far as I remember it didn't work at all. This time you have given them almost 100 times as much brain power as before. Don't you think these models would be sentient enough to avoid such an aggresive gene and develop an antibody against it ??", asked Lord T Eror Ism.

A second chance to prove my worth. Keep them coming, you all. I am loving this.

"That is where you are all going to appreciate my touch. RG I is not a gene sequence that exhibits mindless violence and insensibility at the outset. It in fact is designed to exhibit the exact opposite. RG I would invoke the senses of oneness and camaraderie as a smokescreen and indirectly touch the genes of deep hatred and hypocrisy. It would entwine with the SDs so much that they would protect it overzealously. The SDs would never know that they were all capable of such deeds and it would all be done before they even knew it. Once the planet is cleared of all wastes, we can remotely enable the RG I gene in the body and the SDs would be reduced to destroying themselves, all the while considering them as sentient beings with higher levels of responsibility."

"Doctor, do you think it would work ??"

"Believe me my Lords when I say this. This model can be extremely resilient. But I don't think it can beat RG I. Not now. Not in a million years. Not ever."

"Splendid Doctor. Splendid. I have to say The Board is impressed at your craft. We just have a small question. We all know your hyper successful CG chips were named after your great-grandmother Cons Umer Ism. What is with the unusual name for this gene ??"

"Nothing much, your Lordships. Just a mask of respect to my great-grand father, the late Re Li Gion".

The standing ovation and the applause continued till I left the great hall.

This Just In

2006-07-26T03:10:00.000-07:00

Hotel barons the world over are huddled together to fight this new phenomenon at their hotels which lacks any kind of sophisitication and that suave 'thing' but somehow manages to sneak in, courtesy his corporate sponsor.

Sorry brother, We are here and here to stay.

Receptionists at said hotel recoil at the mention of said phenomenon which carries assorted eatable items (viz. Cold Coffee, Banana Cake) in a transparent plastic cover when they are readily available in the same room.

With a price tag that would buy the kauravas and their extended family dinner for a single day, if I may add.

Porters at said hotel are perplexed by the phenomenon who has seemingly forgotten the art of generous tipping.

I carry my own luggage, is that so difficult to understand ??

Room servicemen are rooted to their feet about how this phenomenon manages to stay away from anything and everything that has a charge in the room, but always manages to finish the complimentary water bottles.

The watch word here is "complimentary"

Workmen at the Kortumalai Pillayar Restaurant are wondering at how this phenomenon walks more than a kilo meter for dinner when said hotel has not one, not two but five restaurants.

Onion uthappam with two chutneys and regular sambar. Even ten kilo metres wouldn't stand a chance.

Anthropologists world over are astounded at discovering that watching an episode of "Metti Oli" all alone on a sunday afternoon in a foreign land on a 42" plasma TV isn't the worst form of torture.

Actually, it has been updated to watching two back-to-back episodes.

Fashion gurus are flabbergasted at this new style of power dressing which includes a semi-formal shoe, a formal pant and a round neck t-shirt.

Trust me, I thought the laundry price tag was some jewellery advertisement

Wall street is worried at the sudden increase in demand for cabbage and appalam from South East Asia.

When everything on the menu involves something bovine or poultry or some squishy looking thing that gives you nightmares, what do you expect ??

Lightning Strikes Twice

2006-07-16T02:08:00.000-07:00

Dear Mr. Murphy,

Hope you doing well. In fact, am positive you are doing well. Because I am not. Where do I start ?? Maybe with the fact that you plotted the receipt of my invitation letter on a Friday afternoon ?? Yes, that meant I can get it across to the travel desk only on monday.

On monday, you ensured that I looked my worst (ah, just a figure of speech. my last "looking best" was in 1980 when I was taken to a studio for a portrait). You also ensured that there was a crazy rule in the embassy which required me to have a visa picture with a white background - which means that I cannot use my standard, digitally-enhanced, homo-sapien look-alike photo that I usually give. You strategically increase the temperature that day to ensure that there are no significant differences between my face and a kuwaiti oil well. You make me lazy enough not to shave, but active enough to pick up the reddest shirt that mankind has ever designed. The staff at the embassy would have been wondering if this was a request to "donate generously for my cardiovascular operation on my left toe" or "to intimate all nearby police stations on sight and stay a few hundred metres away at all costs".

You delay the visa by a day quoting "late receipt". You delay it by another day quoting "high inflow". You delay it for yet another day quoting "in transit". Just when I was about to use that as an excuse, you send it across to me in pristine condition, guess when, on a friday evening - yes, after elvis had left the building. You make the travel desk folks set a time of 11am on saturday to receive the passport. You make me decide in favor of staying back at office over night instead of having to make two trips to office. You make the travel desk folks give me my passport after four excruciating hours of wait where I almost ate a biscuit packet including the cover. Just as I collect all my documents and head out you tap me on my back and say four letters. E. C. N. R. I hear three more words. B.A.M. I also uttered a four letter word which rhymes closely with duck.

Hungrier than King Kong, I lug my bag around and walk out and you throw open the water taps of heaven. When I dare to take it head on, you open it up even further. I give up and run back into office. You slow it down because the fun is just about starting. I fall for it and you catch me at a traffic signal where the wait time is 130 seconds. This time, you just open up all the valves. I go home wet wanting to get some work done and you chuckle at me saying I left the power cord at work. I remind of you the battery and you remind me that I drained it already at work, thanks to my laziness to bend down and fix the loose plug.

I still have monday to get my ECNR. You still have time to suddenly declare a national holiday and close out the passport office for a week. I am not carrying any formal wear. You can suddenly make it a country wide practice there. My laptop is slightly older, you can safely crash the hard disk. I would be going out in the open today, you can throw down a lightning and finish it off once for all. Ah, you wouldn't do that, would you ?? Who would kill their favorite poster boy ??

English Tuitions

2006-06-29T22:54:00.000-07:00

Practical Joke : noun - A mischievous trick played on a person, especially one that causes the victim to experience embarrassment, indignity, or discomfort.

is what the Bartender did when we begged him to change the music played from a mind-numbing trance number to something else. He promptly changed to "Jhalak Dhiklaaja" remix by Himmesh Reshmaiyya. Thanks to Beckham, Baawa and Rumkumar (sic), I escaped Death by Dismal Music.

Doomsday : noun - Judgment Day.

would be the day when orkut, a social networking site where single wo/men find themselves "kewl, hawt or bindaas" and want to "make fraandship" because the person is question has a "beautiful name and face", is banned at work. A walk down the aisle for coffee and all I can see is multitudes of screens showing the same bluish background of orkut with pictures of people taken in standard set pieces (Statue of Liberty, Snow in New Jersey, Times Square, ) with standard hobbies (read books, watch movies, listen to music) and standard testimonials (cho chweet, great guy, best buddy).

Perennial : adjective - Lasting an indefinitely long time

Underperformers and the next word that comes to your mind is the Spanish Football team. True to their billing, they lost their match to a french team that wouldn't be out of place in a charity veteran's tournament. With Torres, Villa and Xabi, they can only go higher. All this makes the job easier for overhyped Brazil (Yes, you read it right. Over Hyped). Germany, with 11 players on a field and few thousands off it, would scrape through Argentina making it even easier for Brazil. England would beat a Deco/Cristiano/Costinha-less Portugal with a clumsy Crouch header in the dying minutes, again helping out brazil. Italy would feign yet another dive and win against Ukraine while Brazil would kick the crap out of France as a revenge for 98. Germany would peak against Italy while Brazil would whizz past England. By the time of the final, Germany would have lost steam and a lacklustre Brazil would win again. Half of the world will go "I told you so" and we will get back to our daily lives. Duh.

Heartburn : noun - A burning sensation, usually centered in the middle of the chest near the sternum, caused by the reflux of acidic stomach fluids that enter the lower end of the esophagus. Also called acid reflux, cardialgia, pyrosis.

is slightly similar in sensation to the pain that anxious parents go through after watching this new songathon from the increasingly innovative Sun Music. As some hopeless song blares in the background, the foreground is alive with SMS messages, 10 out of 20 are a "I luv uuuuuu soooooooo much Sindhu/Pooja/Ilavarasi/" with the other 10 being "miss u 2 Dhanasekar/Ravikumar/Senthil Murugan". Mind you, nothing against people in love or PDA, but an error-ridden SMS on a braindead program on an also-ran television channel ?? Sun TeeVee, I bow to thee.

Tactless : adj - Lacking or exhibiting a lack of tact; bluntly inconsiderate or indiscreet.

are those Interior Decorators at Westside Garuda Mall who put the Women's Lingerie section right outside the trial room. Stand there and get burnt by fiery glares from other women. Move out feeling odd and fail to nod your head when the missus comes out wearing her new stock looking for your approval, and get burnt by the woman. Darned if you do, Darned if you don't.

Home, Home Again

2006-06-18T21:17:00.000-07:00

Dhoni takes over from Sachin, Aishwarya, Aamir and Shahrukh and sells almost everything, including Mysore Sandal Soap.

The centuries-old plan of going straight and taking a left/right at the upcoming sharkal (circle, for people who are weak in english) is the best way to get from Point A to Point B. No mapquest, no google maps and no GPS.

The success or failure of your trip depends on the number of chocolates you bring from the US.

There is a laughing club in my complex with members older than independent India. I am not sure if its a good idea to hold their daily classes adjacent to the jogging track where people of different dimensions huff and puff their way to fat reduction. I dread the day I am going to join them.

Traffic still seems to be a game of mutual trust where a honk could mean anywhere between "you trying to fit in your monster tempo into that miniscule space between me and and the other biker ?? get a life, you evil-minded tempo-driver" to "groan".

A scene from yesterday's "Thaga Thaga Thaga Thaga Thanga Vettai"
A disproportionate Ramya Krishnan: "The pandavas were how many in number ??"
Kid with big, uneasy smile who would sing 'Kalyanandhan Katikkitu odi polama' without missing a beat: (looks at the ceiling for divine intervention)
ADRK: "Who was the king who vowed that he would never lie ??"
Another KWBUSWWSKKOPWMAB: (this one has a change of tactics and looks at the flooring now, again looking for divine intervention)
The future is bright. Its exploding right in front of our eyes into smithereens.

That lady from Koothupattarai still gets roles where she cries over the death/accident/arrest/other social calamity of her son/daughter. Her impressive track record contains glycerine-guzzling roles from Muthalvan (as Arjun's mom who floods the streets when the house is demolished), Ramana (as the mother of Unidentified Detainee and his High School going Sister) and Sudeshi (as mother of young school boy who gets killed by atrocious school teacher and his high maintenance wife). Forgetting how to laugh is an occupational hazard in her line of work.

Its great to go home and have piping hot food ready to be served. No more soul-searching questions of what to cook today so that it would hold up till day after tomorrow. No more fear of gruesome death by food poisoning.

The flyover connecting double road and richmond road still holds the record for being the only flyover in the world which has a makeshift traffic signal (a wiry cop running between buses with a stop sign in one hand and his life in the other). The flyover in Bannerghatta road beats Sudoku for a challenging puzzle. In a twist of fate, the airport road flyover looks to take more time to be operational than the completeion of the new international airport. Welcome to Bangalore where a flyover is a subtle hint for you to actually try and fly over.

I played a small game of wink-wink-grin-grin with a 3 year old kid in my apartment complex. I also did kichu-kichu in the dimples of that kid. All this without the fear of being reported to the police.

Its not essentially a bad thing to come back from the US without having any concrete plans of going back again. Really.

The number of people who realise that going to the US has absolutely nothing to do with individual talent or excellence goes up by atleast 1.

JP Nagar perumal kovil puliyodarai rocks. Sue me for being corny.

"Dent."
"Ah, Yes Truman"
"Do you know the story of a young prince by the name Rama who left his home for 14 years ??"
"Ah, yes"
"He came back after building the first trans-oceanic bridge known to man, fought a great warrior and finally flew back in a chariot tugged by swans"
"Ah, yeah"
"You, on the other hand left home for just 14 months and all that you did was to eat junk food, download megabytes of songs, watch NFL and finally flew back in economy class"
"Ah, yes."
"Does that put things in perspective ??"
"Yes. So ..."
"So, shut up".

Heed The Omen

2006-06-03T16:33:00.000-07:00

"Also it causes all, both small and great, both rich and poor, both free and slave, to be marked on the right hand or the forehead, so that no one can buy or sell who does not have the mark, that is, the name of the beast or the number of his name. This calls for wisdom: let anyone with the understanding calculate the number of the beast, for it is the number of a person. Its number is six hundred and sixty-six."

- Revelation 13:16-18

"Woe to you, Oh Earth and Sea, for the Devil sends the beast with wrath, because he knows the time is short. Let him who hath understanding reckon the number of the
beast for it is a human number, its number is Six hundred and sixty six."

- Iron Maiden, "Number of The Beast"

When the Jews return to Zion
And a comet rips the sky
And the Holy Roman Empire rises,
Then You and I must die.
From the eternal sea he rises,
Creating armies on either shore,
Turning man against his brother
Til man exists no more.

- Father Brennan, "The Omen" [1976]

"The beast shalt unfurl an array of acts resulting in mind-numbing boredom for all and sundry. It shalt annoy people all around him one at a time. It shalt unleash unspeakable acts of vexation. It shalt make people question the meaning of their lives. Earth hath not seen such pain before nor shalt it see if aft. At midnight, on the sixth day of the sixth month of the sixth year of the new millenium, It shall descend from the sky.".

- The Book of Imbeciles Rubicond 1:4

"Is it true ??"
"Yes."
"Is he coming ??"
"Yes."
"Thank God".

- Two unsuspecting parents in an apartment in The City of Boiled Beans.

"Lufthansa Flight #754 from Frankfurt is on time and expected to arrive shortly"

- PA Announcement, Airport of aforesaid city 5th June 2006, 11:50pm

Heed the omen. You have been warned.

(Aradha)Pazhaya Pettai - Archaic Dominion

2006-05-28T20:30:00.000-07:00

Dearest Selvaraghavan,

Thanks for offering to listen to my questions about your newest trendsetter "Pudhupettai". Its not even 30 minutes since I came out of the theater and I am still spellbound. I just don't have any words to describe it. Or wait, maybe I have one. Just one. I don't know if it would do justice to your achievement, but let me try. One word. Feces.

How do you manage to make movie after movie with the exact same template ?? Let me explain. All your movies open with a song where the hero or a lead character indulges in acts you wouldn't want your own son to indulge in, later you somehow manage to defend all his outrageous acts by squarely blaming a) his parents b) his friends or c) the society at large. Then, you bring in a lead lady who just sneezes a few times and the guy who was Idi Amin till yesterday is transformed into Oscar Schindler. Do you actually know there are *other* ways to write a movie ?? How about a realistic movie about a granny, a crow and a urad dal cake for starters ??

You copied the assasination sequence from Coppola. You copied the one-screen-multiple-pane technique from De Palma. You copied the court room scene, again, from Ford Coppola. You copied the black-and-white-sequences-with-blood-being-the-only-color from Rodriguez. You copied the hero-slays-an-army-of-assasins from Tarantino. You copied the end-credits-says-fate-of-everyone technique from Lucas. Don't you have any shame ?? I agree, a person who made movies like "7G Rainbow Colony" cannot afford to have a quality like that, but I ask again, Don't you have any shame ??

We understand you love your brother, so much so that you cast him in the role of a fearless Don. But what we fail too understand is how you could possibly approve a scene where the Don is wearing only a cut banian when the Don under question has a physique that would put Vadivel of yesteryears to shame ?? I agree, physical prowess has nothing to do with being a Don, I have known a few in Madurai. But dhanush ??

Do you really believe using swear words that are beeped out make your movie into a "realistic and hard-hitting" movie ?? For the record, No. They do not. The only thing that it helps is to offer us newer ways of releiving our frustration after the movie is over.

This post is not organised. It is heavily cluttered and is a pain to read. It has absolutely no sense of order and ends up gibbering arbitrary amount of data as it feels fit. This post is so disjoint that it challenges the intelligence of someone who does not register a valid value in the IQ meter. Precisely. I am glad you and I have the same opinion about each other's works.

A hero does not have to shout the roof down to prove his point. A mere look would just do. Ask your brother to check with his father-in-law.

Yes, love is blind. We all agree. But when your girl friend can't act for nuts, you should stop with making some home-made movies for her birthday and leave it at that.

There was a couple in the theatre who earn in dollars, but are stingy enough not to afford to a baby sitter and brought their young kid inside the theatre and spoilt the movie for us, them, the kid and the rest of the audience. Yes, it would be difficult to believe that someone can spoil this movie further, but you just have my word for it.

You cannot make a convincing gangster movie, you are not Ram Gopal Verma. You cannot make genuinely funny faux-pas sequences, you are not Mani Rathnam. You cannot make a mass entertainer, you are not Dharani. You cannot innovatively picturise songs, you are not Shankar. You cannot make a movie that will make us think about things that we never thought about, you are not Kamal. Your heroes do not elicit even a shade of sympathy from any self-respecting human being, you are not Bala. You cannot have violence in your movie and make it non-gratituous, you are not Spielberg. You cannot make a movie that will hold the audience for 3 hours, you are not Peter Jackson. What are you exactly ??

Point to ponder: There is a consesus that you are over-rated. But after this movie, where all the good sequences are shamelessly lifted from other works, do you even deserve a rating at all ??

After 3 hours of non-stop nonsense, you cram in heavy messages within 5 minutes and expect us all to wipe our tears and give you a standing ovation. Such films are called "News Reels" which run *before* the main feature starts. I see a promising career for you there.

The climax. A fitting finale to the 180 minutes of pain we endured.

You get Kamal to sing an awesome song. You cut it in half. You get the good looking sneha to do a role, and you give her poor screen time. You get the flavor-of-the-day Yuvan Shankar to do the musical score and you just spew like it confetti all over the movie. You claim to sculpt a movie for two years and you give us this. Dont get me wrong, I am not saying "You disappointed us Selva". You never promised anything with your previous trash. But for all the talk about reconstructing Thamizh movies, your way of making movies are no different from your dad's - stereotypical and hopelessly boring.

I paid $10 for this trash. Do you know how hard a middle-aged man has to work to make two ends meet ?? I need a refund. I will also agree for a settlement if you promise to make no more movies. After all, What is $10 when it comes to saving your bretheren ??

And yes, The theatre didn't have hand towels. You are probably not directly responsible for that, but I am in such a mood today that I could even hold you responsible for The Big Bang.

No More Anagrams

2006-05-19T18:43:00.000-07:00

Jean Reno : I am sure most of you, on encountering a hot-headed french inspector in the book, decided that it had to be Jean Reno. Even Ronnie Howard told me he wrote the character of Bezu Fache with me in mind. That's why I tried to bring the much-hated Bezu Fache alive on screen right from the word "Go". Half-way through the movie, you would see me scratching my chin at regular intervals trying to find the whereabouts of Langdon. Nope, I was actually wondering how I said okay to this role. Towards the end, I am as glad you are that it is all over.

Paul Bettany : Now, accept it. For a second, you would end up wondering if it is Silas playing himself in the opening sequence. I, with my naturally gifted complexion that the role demands, fit in neatly with my torture instruments (or instruments of chastening, you prude). I even held the movie together with my cold depiction of the murderous-yet-pious Silas. Just when you think Ron had nailed this one, I got reminded of that brilliant scene from a south indian movie called "Nayagan". Don't believe me ?? See it for yourself. But don't laugh out loud. It is meant to be a serious scene.

Sir Ian Mckellen : Gandalf. Magneto. And now I am slated to play an eccentric british bounty hunter. The possibilities are endless. And so they look when I make my entry. But then, as a rule, every character in this movie should spin around himself/herself and drive all the viewers crazy. Didn't I just do that ??

Hans Zimmer : For all the fans out there who thought Leigh Teabing was the biggest villain of the movie, think again. My music, which is supposed to breathe life into a movie, sucks whatever life remains from this half-dead script. Come on, you can't all be so theatrical. Now does the music really have to reach a crescendo when some major turning point occurs ?? All thats passe. Be it Robert and Sophie running for dear life in London, or Langdon breaking the secret to Sophie towards the end, or Silas lurking around Chateville - I have some jaw-dropping music for the occasion - good, old, plain elevator music.

Akiva Goldsman: Now listen, I agree that the screenplay was insipid. What were you expecting ?? Indiana Jones ?? I see you are bugged with the way half the movie runs on subtitles. Hey, the movie happens in France, okay ?? I also understand you are pissed with some absolutely ridiculous dialogues, but come on, this is a pop corn thriller. What ?? You are now irritated with the fact that there was little or no action in the movie that was there in the book ?? Oh give me a break, this is a contemporary thriller. They are meant to be like that. You thought the book was far better ?? Hey, I am not Spielberg to make a monster movie out of an above-average novel. But then, dont suspect my credentials okay. I have "A Time to Kill" and "A Beautiful Mind" to my credit. You all think this is a surefire winner then. You are sure nothing can go wrong with the screen play. After watcing the movie and looking up my filmography, you see that I also have "I, Robot" and "Batman & Robin" to my credits. Fooled you, hehehe.

Ron Howard: I want to make an action movie like "Backdraft". No, no, I want to make a thriller movie like "Ransom". Nah, I want to make a movie with strong characters like "Apollo 13". Or maybe, I will just make a nice documentary. Or wait a second, I have Tom Hanks' dates. Brian Grazer got me the rights for "The Da Vinci Code". I have never been to the Louvre. The wife wants to buy something from Harrod's. Maybe I can finish all the above and get a paycheck from Sony ?? What I lost with a below-par script, I will make it up with some fascinating CGI superimposing flashback sequences into present day. I will also get some grainy look which would make it look more authentic. Utterly inappropriate did you say ?? Hey, its not my money. Its Sony's. Man, Now, That's what I call a brainwave.

Audrey Tautou: I am cute. I am gorgeous. I am 22 and I am french. And just when you brace yourself for one thing that went right in the movie, I start acting. Or, I start trying to act. In an attempt to get an authentic french actress to play the role, they picked me. What they forgot to remember was my english accent was also authentically french. Sometimes when I speak, the audience were left wondering why there were no subtitles for me when all the other french-speaking parts had them. Bozo, that was me talking in English. Now tell me, did I do justice to the role or not ?? In particular, the scene where I show all my anguish and sorrow and despair at my grandfather's killer. Did you hear Oscar bells ringing or was that you insensitive freaks guffawing ??

Tom Hanks : Folks, I am a simpleton called Forrest Gump. I am a humane jail warden called Paul Edgecomb. I am a relentless cop called Carl Hanratty. I am a cold-hearted-killer/loving-father called Michael Sullivan. I am a hotshot cowboy called Woody. I am not NOT a Harvard Symbologist called Robert Langdon. I repeat, I am NOT. Robert Langdon is Harrison Ford in a tweed suit. Russell Crowe can be HF in a TS. Hugh Jackman can be HF in a TS. John Cusack be a HF in a TS. I can be a middle-aged man who said okay to an interesting thriller and lost the plot half-way through and phoned-in my performance.

Dan Brown: Hey guys, I got something interesting
The Ensemble (in chorus): What ??
Dan Brown: The title for this blog. It's an anagram about the movie.
The Ensemble(in chorus): And what is that ??
Dan Brown: O Man, Maga Snorer.

Good Samaritan

2006-05-13T14:15:00.000-07:00

Battle Ship "Death Star". 43 Light Years from Ganymede

Palpatine was happy. Extremely happy. This was the best moment in his professional career and he was thoroughly enjoying every moment of it. He had planned for this since the last two millenia and today was the day he was going to reap the benefits of that. Once he goes back home, he will become Supreme Chancellor of Titania and the whole planet will sway to his will. Heck, if he was lucky, the Queen would even marry him and he could even become The High Emperor.

The Queen. That reminded him.
"Commander Palpatine to Control Room. How long do you need ??", he bellowed on the two-way receiver.
"Commander, we are 234 aeons away from the planet. We should reach the rendezvous point in Zee minus 45 tritiums", responded Ewok, Palpatine's Captain, man-servant, ego-vent, plaything, all-in-one.
"Fine don't stand there then. Get moving and Make sure you call me before you enter the Zone. I need to do the honors myself", said Palpatine.
"We understand Commander. Hail", replied Ewok.
"You better", said Palpatine to himself. The moment he activates the Fazer Cannons on the Nest would be his crowning glory. Palpatine sipped his drink and eased into his chair and thought about the events of the past. How he met with his destiny. How he could become Supreme Chancellor.

Titania. A planet inhabited by Terogons, a race superior to almost every other race in the galaxy, ruled for eternity by Jabba, The Queen Chosen. It was when Palpatine was captain at the Enforcement that Jabba became Queen and he immediately realised that she was the key to his dreams of world domination. Jabba was young, restless, ambitious and, most importantly, dull which suited Palpatine's plan just fine. She just needed a trigger. Palpatine gave her a vision. A colony of planets centrally ruled by Titania with Jabba as the Queen Chosen for the entire Galaxy. The rest was entirely easy. The Terogons, until then a peace-loving working class of species, were transformed in to a war-hungry parasite species moving from planet to planet in conquest.

Palpatine remembered the early days when he and the Queen made public their desire of world domination and colonialisation. The naturally-pacifist Counsels of The Queen were all up in arms and the movement of peaceful protests was carefully spreading among the worker-terogons. Something had to be done before it got out of hand. Some were bought out. Some were "politely" requested to retire. Most of them just disappeared. Palpatine suppressed a chuckle at how easily he handled it. Now, the entire chamber of The Counsels was his to obey. It had been a bloody path that Palpatine had walked to get to where he is, but at the end of it, there was a decorated Throne, and if it meant more blood, Palpatine didn't care much.

The first Hunt proved to be a bit challenging, but after a few routine operations, it had become so easy and safe. The Modus Operandi for each hunt was similar. Jabba and Palpatine decide on the planet to annex. Once that is done, a scout was sent deep into the planet to safely hide The Capsules in subterranean vantage positions. The Capsules contains life fragments of warrior-terrogons, a special breed created by Jabba and Palpatine out of worker-terragons. The Capsules themselves mature in a few millenia, but for fully grown warrior-terrogons to be formed, they need to be fed with the Queen's life source for a while. The Queen was initially reluctant since a prolonged absense of millenia would destroy Titania's monarchy, what with the democrats voicing out for a people-led government. Palpatine had a way around that too. He invented The Nest. The Nest is a miniature palace for the Queen that would be hidden in a place strategically advantageous to the invasion. 60 years before the invasion, a second scout would hide The Nest in the planet and The Queen would start feeding The Capsules. The only catch was to hide it in a place rich in clean liquids. The Queen would have to live on clean liquids to rejuvenate herself after the tiresome job of feeding life source into millions of warrior-terragons. Once the process was complete, Palpatine and his minions would travel down to the planet in their battleship and use the Fazer Cannons to unlock The Nest. That in turn would trigger the millions of capsules hidden in the planet and unleash the warrior-terragons. In short, it would unleash hell. No planet was able to withstand the onslaught for more than few hours.

"Control Room to Commander. Sir, we have visual"
"Good. Keep steady. I will be down there in a minute".

Drumming his fingers on the deck impatiently, Palpatine asked, "Captain, are we there yet ?? We seem to be going around in circles".
"My apologies Commander. But this seems to be area recorded in the Co-ordinate Seeker. It is a perfect match" replied Ewok.
"This place ?? Are you telling me this is where I hid The Nest ?? I told you I hid it under a lake. A crystal clear lake. Not under some dirty sewer. Your console must have been jammed. Try again"
"Err, commander, I verified the location with our master database and it undoubtedly says that this is indeed the place".
Palpatine felt a drop of sweat behind his neck. Did he actually record the wrong co-ordinates ?? This is not some hidden treasure he is searching. He is searching for The Nest. The Queen.
"Give me manual controls", bellowed Palpatine.

After hours of trying all that Palpatine could see in this place was this big sewer and no signs of a lake. Was he just plain lost ?? Panic was setting in slowly. There was absolutely no way that Palpatine could have hid the nest here. This whole place just stank more than all the dirt planets he had ever roamed. This just cannot be the place. Trembling, Palpatine invoked the Manual Track button which would home in on the Nest's Geo-synchronous system. Blimp. Blimp-blimp. Blimp-blimp. Palpatine lifted his head to look at the screen. The Nest was responding. But, the response was very poor. It almost seemed like The Nest was fading out. Dying, in fact.

It dawned on Palpatine in an instance. The Sewer. The Sewer did this. The Queen was replenishing her thirst with The Sewer instead of the clear water that Palpatine thought it was there. Had he been fooled ?? Had his eyes played tricks and made it look like clear water ?? Was it God's Hand that did this to him ?? Palpatine decided to give it his final shot. Blast The Nest with the Fazer Cannons and resurrect The Queen. He aimed hard at the location where the blimp originated and fired. Nothing. He fired again. Nothing. And then, the realisation came to him. The razor-sharp rays of the Fazer Cannons were not able to penetrate the thick viscous liquid that lay in the Sewer. Palpatine turned to look at the terminal and right at the instance, the blimp died. The Nest was destroyed. All connected capsulses would self-destruct in mere seconds. Most importantly, The Queen was dead. For the first time, Palpatine had lost.

No, maybe he hadn't. Maybe this was a new beginning. Maybe this was his short cut to becoming High Emperor of Titania. There was an opportunity here to be exploited. Palpatine was surprised it didn't strike him earlier. He just to kill Jabba and make it look like an accident. Darn. So many years wasted in hunting planets and playing second fiddle. He regained his composure and screamed at Ewok and his crew, "We lost the queen. It is some internal sabotage that will be uncovered. As Commander of The Enforcer and Interim High Emperor of Titania .... Hey Ewok, I am talking to you. Where are you looking at ??".

Ewok smiled. "Sir, I have some news for you. The peaceful protesters led by Sir Luke have overthrown The Empire. Titania is no more a kingdom. It is a democratic"

Palpatine didn't see this coming. He knew he had to make a move and now was a good time as any. "Oh well, then, let me retire to my room. I am taking the shuttle out for a reconnaisance mission"

Ewok smiled bigger this time. "Sir, you should do nothing of that kind. You shall retire to your quarters, stay there and await further orders. You have been demoted Commander, and if may add, under arrest for treason. Your end would be a new beginning for Titania's peaceful reign".

Palpatine bit his lip in anger. "Who do you think you are ??", he asked.
Ewok almost laughed, "The New Supreme Commander of The Enforcement.

Earth, 0400 Hrs
"Dude, is this place safe ??"
"Yeah yeah. Go on"
"I mean, no crocodiles or other dangerous creatures around, right ??"
"Any life form that comes to touching distance of this place will die. Can't you see that ??"
"Dude, errrr, is this okay ??"
"Is what okay ??"
"You know, defacing a public place. Aren't we some kind of public nuisance ??"
"Dude, look around. Can you make this place any dirtier" ??
"Yeah .. but still .... you know, my grandmother tells me this place was a fresh water lake many years ago"
"So what ?? Listen, You and I are not the only ones to do this. Everyone does this, okay ?? And just because we do it once, it is not the end of the world. Now stop talking, turn to the other side and do your thing. I cant take a peaceful dump while talking and you know that. Just get on with it and lets get out. Darned place stinks to hell. Ughghgh."

The Cooum silently sighed at the teeming millions of thankless jerks, saving their very same lives yet another time.

Credits
========
George Lucas
H G Wells

WMD

2006-05-01T10:59:00.000-07:00

Prologue

"Cheer up Lucy, It is not the end of the world".
"But Lois, you don't understand. This .... this should have been my biggest moment as a fashion designer. But now, ... now, I don't know where I am headed. If this doesn't work out, my whole career is doomed", said Lucy emptying a new box of hand towels.
"Lucy, Let me care of this"
"But Lois, how could _you_ ..."
"Sheesh, of course not _me_, but I know of someone who might help us out", said Lois with a knowing smile.
"But, would he ??", asked Lucy.
"Trust me dear, he _better_" said Lois, extending a fresh box of tissue papers.

Morning, Present Day

I feel different today. I think everyone does on their first day to work. Dad believed that human beings placed unshakeable faith on the maxim "First impression being the Best impression". And boy, the kind of impression I'm going to make today, am sure the rest of Kansas is going to talk about it for ages to come. People would go "I was there on his first day", "He was right next to me, wearing that brilliant suit", "Oh boy, what an entry". People screaming my name. Yes, it feels good to be creating history. If only I could fly before Lois comes in.

I heard someone say "Helllllloooo Dearrrr" from behind. Trouble. Folks, That is Lois - My Girl. My sweetheart. No, she is not Trouble. A "Hello" with an unbelievable number of 'L's and 'O's. Now, _that_ is Trouble. That suffixed by a drawly "Dear". Disaster. Should keep a straight face.

"So, did you think about it Darling??", asked Lois.
Darn. Not again.
"Lois, We had this conversation yesterday. The answer is No", I cut a straight face. That is the only way to handle a woman's opening gambit. The trustworthy-and-almost-invincible Mushy-Mushy.
"Honey, my sister got this assignment on her internship. And she has to make this work to get the job. We got to help her out. If you could only ..."
"No, Love. I cannot. I just cannot. Your sister's design, its just ... just plain hideous. For chrissake, did you even look at it ?? it's Red in color." There, I couldn't get straigher. I think I am getting better at this game.

"My sister has been through a lot", I could see red in Lois' eyes now. Oh dear, this isn't going the way I planned. She switched from the time-tested Mushy-mushy to i-am-a-wronged-woman-and-you-are-not-getting-away-with-it Menacing within a nano-second. I know where this headed. I know what follows Menacing. Change course right now. Dont let her corner you. Don't let your voice show your weakness, but make sure you repair the damage. Easy. "I didn't mean it that way", I said. I thought I quavered a bit towards the end. Just a bit. I hope she didn't notice it.

A shark tracks a drop of blood in the water from more than 5 miles away. A lion scents a gazelle from 10 miles or even more. The woman nails the man down with a single syllable of uncertainity from a recitation of a four-page reading comprehension. Lois is the woman's woman, and she is not going to let go.

"All I ask is - Can't you do this for me ??", she burst out in tears. Notice the italicized "me". There, the metamorphosis is now complete. From the i-am-breathing-fire Menacing to now-beat-that-if-you-can Melodramatic. The single most powerful weapon of mass destruction that no man, ordinary or super, can ever witstand. All our cards were face up and she has a full house. My game was over, with my pride being the only thing at stake. Hmm, Come to think of it, whose going to know even if I do it ?? Thankfully, no one. Maybe I can still get away with something worthwhile if I play this right.

"Okay hon, I will do it. I will do it for you", I repeat what zillions of other men are repeating across the universe for aeons without the slightest hint of what they are getting themselves into. "But honey, am already wearing one. And let us just assume that I wear this for you, no one is even going to see it", I said in all honesty.
A face which was mobbed with tears just a second ago, lightened up like a shooting star. When life comes to smoother times, I should remember to ask her how they even manage to do it.
"I know and I have an idea", she said.
It didn't hit me for a second. And then, it did. Like an oncoming Comet.
"Lois, you got to be kidding me".

Evening, Present Day
10 miles from the Smallville Train Station, where a train which was about to leap out of a bridge was miraculously saved by someone/something

"It .. It ... He saved us!!!!"
"Daddy, I need a dress like that"
"Daddy ... Me too !!!"
"Its a bird !!!!"
"No, Its a Plane !!!!"
"No, no .. Its .... Hey, wait a second ?? Why is he wearing it __outside__ ??"

"Darn it Dad, Why on Krypton did you send me to this planet ??"

X-Rated

2006-04-21T14:03:00.000-07:00

Overrated:

Saravana Bhavan. Evanescence. Ghajini. A walk by the lake holding hands. Andrew Symonds. Manchester United. Software Engineers. Centum in public examinations. Selvaraghavan. Dan Brown. Cats. Manual Transmission. Candle-lit dinners. Mobile phones. Caramel custard. Snow. Revision exams. Russian River, CA. Abstract art. Integral calculus. Valentine's day. Yahoo messenger. Organic chemistry. Panneer butter masala. Pomeranians.

Underrated:

Christopher Nolan. Curd rice. Bench press. White chocolate mocha. Gaim. Water. Lemon tea. Creative. Salt Lake City. Cygwin. Offensive/Defensive Linemen. Hand towels. Treadmills. Shotokan. Batman. Teflon. Nail cutters. Mail-in Rebates. Bicycle lanes. ICE Window Manager. Skull caps. Santa clara central library. F1. Bittorrent. DVDShrink. Snooze. Smithsonian. Labradors.

Temptations and Damnations

2006-04-07T20:07:00.000-07:00

I feel small, I really do and if __I__ feel so small inspite of all the girth that I carry, you should know how miserable I should feel. It is one of those moments where I frantically hunt for my metaphysical gun to end my misery than to live with the guilt. You would too, if you know what I'm talking about.

Temptation is the great-grand-mother of all evil. And giving in to it is easier than making apple pie. Have you ever been so desperate for something that it when came to you, made a swirl at you, and then disappeared out of sight that you threw caution to the wind and lunged at it without a second thought ?? If not, do not judge me from your high seat. Come down, hold my hands and see what I see and feel what I feel. On second thoughts, dont hold my hands - that is just too sappy. Just listen to what I got to say.

Why did I do it ?? Why oh why couldn't I be like other normal human beings ?? Why do I have this uncontrollable dark desires, to try and do unspeakable things when no one is looking ?? Is it my childhood ?? Yes, like many others, I want to blame it on my childhood. On my upbringing. I blame You God, You cannot give me something, then take it away and make me long for it, then tease me with a glimpse. You cannot make mere mortals go through that. We get tempted, we yield to temptation and we end up in shame. Why God, why ??

It happened in a flash. I turned. I saw and I made my move. Tip-toeing myself into a vantage position, with no one watching me, already dreaming about a blissful night, I put the last part of my plan in action. And there I stood, covering the entire door way, the girl hardly few feet away with a sudden fear in her eyes. Of course, It is not everyday that you have yourself stuck in a cul-de-sac with frankenstein's monster sealing the other end. My child, forgive me for what I am going to do. I am just.....human.

As I reached out to my object of desire, the girl let out a mild shriek of surprise. She knew what I was after. She knew she couldn't do anything about it and it was all as good as over. But the helplessness in her eyes, pleading "dont do this to me, I am so young to be your niece", that is sure to haunt me. Her shriek had came out a tad late, but that was enough. As I tighten my grip and turn around to see if anyone has noticed, planning my silent getaway, I see faces. Confused faces, surprised faces, silently laughing faces and some faces which have "At this age ?? You should be ashamed of yourself" written all across. I knew my game was up. Folks, this is what happens to people who go out of their way to satisfy their tiny little idiosyncracies. Shame. Disgrace. A room full of people looking at you with their eyes boring you end to end, with eyes full of incredulity at what they are seeing.

I collected myself and started walking towards the check-out counter with the "Essential: The Amazing Spider-man Vol. 2" by Stan Lee and Steve Ditko that I just picked. As I walked through the "Juvenile Fiction" section of my library amidst all the regulars/onlookers who have to multiply their age by atleast four to be within touching distance of my age, One half of my mind goes "Can you believe it ?? Stan and Steve in one big collectible edition. With venom, sandman, doc ock, electro, the green goblin - the works. My nights and weekends are not going to be the same anymore." The other half couldn't help sparing a thought for the poor kid who just lost the race to pick the book, only by a mere second, a few feet in height, a few inches in width and few tonnes in meanness. "Am sorry kid, I really am. But this is Stan Lee and Steve Ditko that we are talking about. That, and I can never be a nice guy."

Brave New World

2006-03-31T18:24:00.000-08:00

Every parent worries about sending their children out of home. Even if the kid is the Zodiac killer at heart, somehow the parental genome kicks in. Crucially for both parties, the advice levels are directly proportional to the distance in between. With the New World being a few thousand miles away and images of sun-bathers filling up everyone's psyche, the parental genome works overtime and goes on overdrive. Worried fathers and harried mothers, we present you - The Bay Area.

For the home-sick, there is no other area better suited than the Bay Area. I hear people from Edison and other other parts of New Jersey object. Gentlemen, I agree that you can spit outside and wash your hands after dinner on the road in Edison, but can you ever dream of wearing a viking cut-banian and kibs mark lungi and walk ?? The atlantic winds will freeze you to death. In the bay-area, your neighborhood clan will recognize and walk up to you to share some local information on the price of vegetables in india in your local tongue.

Being stuck in a traffic snarl, can be an enlightening experience in buying patterns. A toyota in front of you, another toyota behind you, yet another toyota by your side, some more toyotas up ahead, more and more toyotas on the opposite lane. Change toyota to honda. Repeat. No wonder one would realise why GM is facing a financial crisis. Its the MPG honey. or so everyone thinks.

Scenes from a temple are nothing different too. Pillayar takes a shower with Tropicana. The priest, for a change, asks "Any more archanais" in agmark tha-nglish. While the middle-aged dad professes his linguistic skills starting every second statement with "you no whaaaat i saiyee", the 10 year old son goes "dad, gimme a break" in impeccable american. But still, the most crowded part in any temple at any given point of time is the free prasadam stall and people still leave their footwear inside their cars for fear of losing them. Told you so.

Apartment complexes are a walkover. Literally. There is a story of an american knocking the doors of an Indian asking where a certain Mr. Ted Smith lives. Legends have a way of feeding themselves, but the general consensus is that our home-grown Indian thought for a while, scratched his stubble and told the american that there are no foreigners living there. What the legends missed out is that on a later day, our man received a copy of the Oxford World Atlas and a Merriem Webster dictionary.

Friend of a friend lands here from Charlotte, North Carolina (the rough equivalent of Madhuravoyil, Chennai or Kengeri, Bangalore). Tells everyone he is here for a good time. Everyone agrees. Picks his list of places to visit. Reads out list. Saravana Bhavan. Pauses. Surveys the room to see everyone rolling on the floor laughing. Yep, For other cursed souls from the mid west - Idaho (Idly ?? You sure you are not confusing anything with Bruce Lee??), Missisipi (Sambar ?? Sir, no. we serve chicken and meat, but no deers), Wisconsin (Yes sir, thats pure vegetarian. It has chicken though) and Milwaukee (Vegetarian ?? We have some lettuce for breakfast. Some more lettuce for lunch and if you are going to come back, the remaining lettuce for dinner) - you have your redemption next corner. Heck, every corner. As long as you, the eater, safely lock your mathematical capabilities back in your closet, you get to eat what you want to. But as things will have it, most of us eat, breathe and think the exchange rate which can cause quite a few hiccups for anyone who is here on a short-term visit and the letters "Save Big Big Money" inscribed on their bed room walls.

Welcome to The Bay Area. Where most americans look you in the eye and give you a "hey, how are you doing" as they go by. Where most educated indians look through you like you were a ghost.

Shiny

2006-03-20T13:50:00.000-08:00

Stalking the IMDB during odd hours for trivia is a double edged sword. It throws so many interesting movies at you, something to keep your netflix account performing above par. Sometimes, it gives you a movie that has received rave reviews which, after watching it, leaves you with a feeling of having worked on a differential calculus problem the previous night. Head-scratching and mattress-pawing. Case in point: Barton Fink, Othertimes, it gives you a cult movie which makes you wonder what is so cult-ish about the movie, but eventually end up shaking your head in awe because you don't want to offend your movie-literate friends. Case in point: Citizen Kane. At other times, you end up hitting the jackpot. Case in point: Firefly.

Firefly is television show that aired once a week (you say, we have "Velan"). The story revolves around a bunch of protagonists and their day-jobs (you say, much like "Kolangal").It has its funny moments (you say not dissimilar to "Chinna Pappa and Periya Pappa") and it has its moving moments, (you say oh yeah just like "favorite-women's-accesory-or-something-signifying-matrimony"). But the similarities end just there. Firefly, for a change, is also truly refreshing. (you say you give up).

Firefly is a Sci-fi/Space/Western set more than 500 years in the future where mankind has moved on to a different solar system and left our over-grown and over-used planet with nothing but a fancy new name, Earth-that-was. Unsurprisingly, when someone says Space-age Sci-fi everyone thinks about a captain who speaks orders into his wrist watch, his trusted lieutenant whose ears, eyebrows and his pencil share the same shape, an array of different colored beings talking gibberish and different new worlds where stones suddenly come into life to eat you. Joss Whedon (writer of "firefly") begs to differ.

What George Lucas did with Star Wars in the late 70s, Joss Whedon does it with Firely in the 21st century. When Lucas envisioned Star Wars, only the Apollos had reached space. Movies were firmly rooted in anti-war sentiments and personal lives of italian-american mobsters. When Lucas opened a world with so many possibilities, the audience lapped it up. Everything was new. Light sabres, The Force, Death Stars and Sky battles. But when it was done once, it became a "used" concept, which should explain the fate of the new trilogy he made. Joss understands that much of this sci-fi enchilada is additional baggage and cuts it off completely. No ground-breaking CGI, no space wars, no new civilisations and no vulcan salutes. Joss instead chooses to develop his story around the crew of the spaceship, Serenity.

Joss Whedon hits the mark with the way he packages his show. From the promos, one thinks that its a space-cowboy show with gags. That it is, but only as a side show. What it really is a brilliant political commentary on tyrannical pseudo-democracies which go to any ends to protect their secrets. The premise of a federation of states being the norm of the future, with the wealthy core states getting richer and the fringe states becoming poorer. A government behemoth which treats its own citizens as dispensibles. Look around yourself to see living examples.

If attitudes were a measure to a show's success, Firefly would need a bigger scale to measure it's. A captain who has only a hazy definition of what is legal and what is not, but has a clear distinction of good and bad is just one of the interesting characters in this show. Malcolm "Mal" Reynolds, the captain, has a great philosophy. Go about your business doing your job to help you feed yourself and your people as long as it doesn't hurt the helpless. Consider it a bonus if it helps you in robbing the undeserving. Perfect.

The show probably stands out because of three things. First, In a day when reality shows where you have to be bizzare - from making a complete idiot out of yourself on national television by being a mockery to eating live bugs for a fat purse - to be popular, a show which packages socio-political commentary mixed with fantasy is a welcome change. Second, Joss Whedon tells the world that you don't need a movie on two jailed prisoners trying to escape from a maximum security prison or a bunch of mentally-disturbed patients under a ruthless nurse to move you. You can even do it with an unknown cast and a bit of heart. Lastly, my favorite, that non-violence is not always the best solution and little push never hurt when it comes to people who deserve a shove.

Full Circle

2006-03-08T15:00:00.000-08:00

Earth

"Will he or won't he ??". I was thinking when I walked up to Dawson's room with my tablet in my hand. About to open the door, I just remembered the last time I entered his room without knocking and the next hour of reminding on professional ethics in door-knocking. The fact that his room didn't have a door to begin with didn't strike him somehow. That and the phrase. "May I come in ??", I somehow managed. "Yes", belched a voice.

"Hi Dawson", I started.
"Uh?? Me ??", said Dawson.
"Mr. Dawson, I mean.", I said correcting my self quickly. I am in no mood for his sermons on professional ethics in addressing people now.
"Better. Yes, what can I do for you Robert ??", said Dawson, least interested in what he can do for me. Always infinitely interested what I can do for him.
"Sir, its about the new project I had in mind."
"Ah, the potty you mean", said Dawson, popping a bunch of grapes into his mouth, making no effort to hide the sarcasm in his tone.
I bit my lower lip in anger. "Dont let your emotions blow. Job needs to be done", I told myself. "The Porty, sir. P-o-r-t-y".
"They sound just about the same you know ??", asked Dawson, leaning into his chair further. The Porty, My Porty was known to Dawson's circle as the potty, because they think that is where my invention is destined. I disagree. I disagree vehemently.
"Dawson, just give me one chance. Porty would put us on the global map forever", I said earnestly.
"Oh yes ?? And how are you so sure??", said Dawson, his voice going to that gravelly tone which he uses to browbeat people. Not good.
"Its because I see people are going to need it soon. Look at my analysis", I showed him my tablet. "See, this is the projection of increase in population over the next few years. This here is the growth of Porting market that I project. If we go into test production now, we should be onto full scale production within the next two months and should be out with the first Porty in 3 months and hit maximum production in 12 months. In two years, we would have recovered all our production costs and we get to make profits out of it", I could see Dawson shaking his head and I stopped.

"You know what Bert ?? This makes absolutely no business sense whatsoever", said Dawson looking at his well-manicured finger nails, rendered out of the expenses account offered by the company.
"What ?? But I just..."
"You gave me some numbers. That's all you did. Numbers that don't mean anything".
"But Mr. Dawson..."
"Listen Bert, How many years have you been in this industry ?? 4 ?? 5 ?? how old are you ?? 27 ?? 28 ?? Marginally less than my experience. I have seen numbers, Bert. I have seen them all my life. And you know what I have seen more often ?? Your kind. The one that comes up with nothing but ideas that burn a hole in everyone's pocket. Your idea is futile. That is all there is to it".
"Sir, This analysis is ...", I tried to drive my point about how painstakingly I had conducted a research out of my own free time to arrive at these numbers, talking to people, understanding their needs.
"Bert, let me ask you this. Is anyone using this potty of yours??"
"No, but ....", I started
"Ah see, There we have it. No one is using this and you expect me to fund it. Bah", Dawson went off before I could interrupt him and say that this was the precise point. That no one was using it because no one has invented it. Not yet. But Dawson was in no mood to give up. "And you say this makes business sense ?? I don't know what they teach you, but they teach you to imagine a lot. You think people want to port ?? Do you actually think they are going to leave what they are doing here and port off to some place ?? Are you out of your minds ?? Boy, how did you even land this job ??"
First, I hate it when he sounds patronising. Second, I hate it when he asks me how I landed this job when there are probably a hundred others who are curious to know how he landed his job. "Hold on to your tongue, Bert. This is not the first time", I told myself.
"Bert, you, and all your bretheren out there, think that you are doing the toughest job out there. Trying to make random things, Invent things. Do you have an iota of idea how hard it is to be in The Hot Seat ??".
I looked around his room. It was bigger than the one I had to share with three others. It had twice as many shelves and an ice-box. That didn't sound too hot to me.
"I just didn't join some skool and come out and get a job. I had my foundations in this business and I know how it is run. Do you know how many decisions I have to make each day which would affect thousands of people ??". I stopped and gave it a thought. Single shot espresso or double shot espresso was probably the only one and it seemed neither tough nor affecting thousands of people.

"By the way, you are in tools. Aren't you ??", asked Dawson, with the tone that sent out many loud and clear messages to me. "Yes sir, I am". "Have you finished your daily tool sharpening quota" would be the next question. "If you haven't done the job you were given, you should probably not try anything else" would come later. I understood where this was going. I would like to tell him he doesnt have to put me on the defensive reminding me that it is he who has to judge my work when the time comes. I would really love to tell him that "tools sharpening" is not where my interests lie. I would like to tell him to look at the idea as an idea and not as something that is going to rain money from day #1. Most of all, I would like to remind him that a tonne of his self-laudatory poetry is welcome if only he could show a bit of constructive work. But I cannot. I do not have the power to.

I walked back slowly to my workplace. I am sure Dawson and his friends would be having a private joke on Porty. I could see other eyes boring into me as I took my seat. Deep down inside, I knew Porty was going to work. Something tells me that there is someone who would badly need this invention. In the loneliness of my room, I picked up a mini-Porty that I had made in the hope that I would be allowed to give a demonstration. I touched my creation lovingly. All around it. I imagined a future where people would be able to port freely. I imagined a future where there would even be coaches fitted with Porties. I imagined a future where a life couldnt be lived withour Porties. I laughed at my own dreams. "Goodbye Porty, the road ends for you here", I said and broke it into pieces and got back to sharpening stones for the hunt later tonight. There were mammoths to be killed.

Heaven

"Dang !!!!", He screamed in anguish.
"Honey, what is wrong now ??", out came The Missus, clearly pertrubed.
"He did it again. He did it again", He was in a mad fit and it showed up as a serious cyclone in the calm waters of the dead sea.
"Honey, you should cool down. You could destroy a few countries with your temper", said the concerned Missus.
"I dont believe this, darling. I put them alongside happily grazing dinosaurs and you remember what he did ?? He asked them to file a report of their weekly kills. In triplicate. Bam. Out of the blue, one day they are all extinct. The coroner says severe stress. You know how this made Me the laughing stock in the Gods' Council. I put this species into evolution alongside Noah. What do we get ?? 90% of the animals Noah selected were rejected because they dozed off when he was giving a presentation on "An Incisive Look into the Learnings on How to Efficiently Board The Ark". Now, who wouldn't ?? I put him in the neolithic and what do I get ?? A blanket ban on creating fires because he so intelligently put his finger inside one, got burnt and decreed it dangerous to use fire in any form whatsoever. And now, guess what he did now ?? He rejected the idea of The Wheel saying it was not viable and didn't have a future".
"You dont say !!!", exclaimed the surprised Missus.
He was now looking distraught. "Now I have to redo the whole thing again. Right from Adam, Eve and The Apple. And this is not the first time. I hate doing this again and again. I am not a robot", He sounded unsurprisingly tired. "Honey, I dont know what to do with this species. They are in my charter. I need to put them somewhere, somehow. But I am wary of putting them anywhere", He sounded resigned.
"Honey, you shouldn't be losing your sleep over this. Just put them somewhere, where they could cause very less damage. Now, I got to get back to preparing lunch for you.
Why don't you just put them somewhere and join me in the kitchen in a minute ??. There are a few vessels to wash"
He walked to his drawing-board. He had decided enough is enough. He looked up at his giant chart of creation. On the x-axis he had the species written alphabetically. Amoeba, Blue Whales, Cats, Dogs, Hippopotamuss. He scanned the list looking for his entry and picked it up right beneath "Manaclers". He looked at the y-axis, containing ages. He gave it a good thought, sighed deeply and shoved it in the slot marked "The Second Dark Ages - 20th century and later" and pressed the "Restart Earth" button.

Epilogue

Epitaph for a Tag that originated in Ganja Turtle's blog.

Raa Raa Raa Ramaiah

2006-02-25T12:38:00.000-08:00

One of the valuable lessons that Rajinikanth has taught us is to call Ramaiah here and tell him to divide his life by eight, and most importantly, to realise which eight he is in and act in an appropriate manner. Once Ramaiah knows this and follows it to the letter, he inadverdently finds that the answer is 42. Just like our Ramaiah and the eight phases of his life, a blog(ger) has eight phases too.

"Yettu Yetta blog vaazkhaya pirichukko, ne yenda Yettil ippo irukka nenachukko"
"Divide your blog life in eights, and keep where you are in your sights"

"Mudhal Yettil veesadadhu vasanam illa"
"No dialogue is a dialogue, unless spoken in the First Eight"

This is the phase when all and sundry with whom the individual is in touch with owns a blog. He scornfully thinks, " All these yuppie-wannabes have a blog because its free. Just ask blogspot to charge a monthly fee for it, and everyone would be back to corner-gazing and chin-scratching as their hobbies". So true. Hear, hear.

"Rendam Yettil adikadadhu balti-yum alla"
"No sommersault is expertly done, unless done in the Second Eight"

After a change of heart, now blogging is way of expressing oneself. It brings out the best in him. It helps him be a creator. It helps him speak his mind. Yadda-yadda. Standard issue dialogue include disclaimers about how he is new to blogging and hopes "people like the blog" and also "give their valuable comments". The cocky few actually advertise the fact that it is their blog and they write what they feel like and care the least what others feel. No prizes for guessing all that indirectly means "see, am only trying to look cool. this doesnt necessarily mean that you shouldnt comment you know".

"Moondram Yettil podadadhu padamum alla"
"The jazz goes fizz, if not done in the Third Eight"

The angry young (wo)man strikes back with a revenge in this phase. Every possible practice of the society is questioned. Corruption, Red-tapism, Religion, God-men and all similar hot-topics get thrashed. Bureaucracy, Theocracy, Aristocracy, Plutocracy, Democracy - All slaughtered. Radical ideas proposed. Old beliefs disposed. The outlay of the site changes every week. He is the man of the future. He is the future.

"Naangam Yettil polambadadhu polambalum alla"
"Lamentation is not what lamentation is, if not lamented in the Fourth Eight" (and btw, this translation sucks)

Things that were red hot one level above, cool down a bit here. Our angry hero(ine) returns to earth and struggles to get a foothold. Work is pressing, almost all problems that he could think of have been written about and he has to create new ones. Problems are strange in the sense that they find you when they want to and it doesnt work the other way around. So, the blog changes from a social commentary to a personal diary. Blogs that demonstrate his will power (how he fought with his classmate for a pencil-with-sweet-smelling rubber and, importantly, won it when he was in third standard b section), charity (a sum total of Rs. 11 dropped in the Tsunami Fund Box when his evening snack costs twice that) and how he is worried about arranged marriage (ah well, this we cant dispute. can we ??).

"Aindham Yettil Podadadu Blade-um Alla"
"Incruciating boredom is not rightly inflicted, if not done in the Fifth Eight"

Finally, for the good of mankind, life has caught up with the blogger. With posts that redefine the word personal to a new level having come to a full stop and staring down the barrel of the next performance appraisal, our blogger must now resort to easier ways of keeping it going. And what better than mindless forwards ?? "I read this somewhere, I think you may like it", followed by terrabytes of data. Oh well, you didnt have the time to read through it, might as well pass on the pain to the rest of us. Foreseeing an eventuality scenario where there are not enough interesting forwards (which is an oxymoron more often than not), the blogging community has invented something that would surpass counting sheep as the best-pastime. Tagging. Once he has revelaed everything (5 bestest friends, 6 names he goes with, 7 things he cannot live without) that is revealable, the blogger slowly starts slipping into oblivion.

"Aaram Yettil kudukadadhu Build-up alla"
"A build-up falls flat, if not orchestrated in the Sixth Eight"

Comebacks are a universal concept. We all love them. Inspired by school life, where we fail in the first, second and third midterms, quart and half yearlies, first and second revisions and finally manage to turnaround with a sizzling 41% in the final revision which technically counts as a comeback, the blogger makes one too. Only as limp. Heck, even Sachin Tendulkar's come back from a tennis elbow wouldn't have had such fanfare. "I am back" reads the blog title, regardless of the fact there is probably only the service provider who would care and that too for additional wastage of precious space on his server. In an effort to show that the blog is alive and kicking, our man adds new tags overnight - one is a webcounter, the other is a bar to chat with, the third doesnt do anything at all, but sort of looks good so gets to be there.

"Yezham Yettil podadadhu Senti-um alla"
"If you want to wet some shoulders, do it in the Seventh Eight"

When ET leaves, henry thomas cries. drew barrymore cries. all their friends cry. From the way the box office responded, the watching public cried. Armed with a bigger vocabulary and better photogenics than ET, somehow, the blogger now pulls the same trick. Citing the war in iraq or the unrest in afghanistan or the imbroglio in kashmir or, in an attempt to gather mass sympathy, all of the above, the blogger announces his imminent demise from the blog world much to the consternation of fellow bloggers and friends. They had this blog to make them feel better about their own. Now, who would fill this enormous gorge ??

"Nee Yettam Yettuku mela irundha nimmadhi illa"
"Rip, in the Eighth Eight"

All good things should come to an end. That is just a statement and should in no way be considered as an eulogy for the blog. Nope. What was once teeming with friends is now orphaned in cyberspace that even those spammers who go "hey, you have a nice site. visit mine where i discuss about what color of inner wear to wear on a summer sunday" do not visit the blog. In the end, everything evens out. Even such odd blogs like this one. Amen.

Never Cross A Woman

2006-02-13T18:48:00.000-08:00

Present Day

Rosemary, dressed in her best party attire, read the note for the tenth time . The note that Hummus had written last night before he ran away. It was to the point, "I am leaving to find my life", so typical of Hummus - Idealistic. She wasnt unduly worried about Hummus running away - "no one should be overtly worried about runaway puppies, they would always come back", she thought haughtily. Her worry was entirely different.

Late last night

Hummus entered the house not looking very different from a zombie.
"Hummus, is that you ??" came a voice from inside the room. Hummus, who had tried to tiptoe his way to the terrace where he would have slept through the night, stopped dead in his tracks. Drat.
"Yes honey".
"Did you get the diamond tiara ?? I have promised all my friends that I would make an appearance with that on my birthday. I cannot bear to lose face", came her commanding voice, still from inside.
"Ah, honey .. there were, ermmm, some complications".
"What ??", out came rosemary - her face smeared with a white substance all over, save her eyes, which either prevented wrinkles or ageing or preserve her tan.
"I reneged on the deal", said Hummus.
"Hummus, you were on a job ordered by the King himself. What do you mean you reneged??"
Hummus burst with anger. "I couldnt do it, Rosemary. I cannot split up a couple who are going through an ordinary misunderstanding just because the king has a liking to the girl and wants to marry her after she is divorced. No matter how much he pays for that. I was a priest before this, remember ?? I preach love, not hate. And I wouldnt have taken this hate-job if not for paying your bills".
"Hummus, you are a divorce attorney. Splitting married couples is your job. If people dont fight and split, you dont get food. Most importantly, I cant pay my beautician. Just go out there, encourage them that a divorce is the best way out, get the pay-off from the king and get me my tiara. My birthday is midnight tomorrow".
"Ah, err. Honey, I cant do that anymore. I just gave them the whole of the initial pay-off I got from the king and sent them to Gaul where they can live safely".
"I dont believe this .. This means that ..."
"Yes, this means that I betrayed the king and he will have my head when he knows that it was I who sent them out. But you dont worry about...."
Rosemary cut him in half sentence."..that I dont get my tiara for the birthday..." and then she broke out crying over that incalculable loss leaving a flustered Hummus to imagine how he couldnt get the guts to put his profession into use with this woman.

Present Day
Rosemary tossed the note away carelessly. "Damn you Hummus. You have made me lose face. I will make you pay. I will make everyone pay." Rosemary had made her plan.

By late evening her friends congregated in the grand ball room which had been constructed entirely out of Hummus's retirment fund. Rosemary appeared from the top of the stairs with a grief stricken face - but carefully made up so that those tears dont take away the new glossy cream she had bought the other day.
"Friends, I have an announcement to make. The King has abducted my husband, and as we talk here, his life would have been ended by the executioner".
A collective gasp filled the room. Cries of "Oh poor baby", "Oh Rosemary", "Dear Lord" emanated from her friends who rushed to hold her - not without being too careful that their expensive coiffures remain undisturbed. "Perfect. Their sympathy is mine. Now for Plan B", Rosemary thought. She continued in her voice that rang more of disappointment than sorrow, but only for a keen observer. "I just have one request to make on behalf of my husband. All of you know how much he loved me. You all know how much he cared about me and how much I meant to him". The hen-pecked spouses nodded their heads in unison, although they knew the real story. After all, it was the same everywhere. Rosemary continued, "Hummus was a happy and content man. But before he was dragged from this very hall by the King's Guards, he had just one desire unfulfilled. That he couldnt buy me my tiara. He swore he would come back and get it for me, but it is now too late". The men-folk in the room kept their somber faces. "As Hummus's friends, I have one thing to ask out of you. I ask this in the name of Hummus and in the name of the love that he had for me. ".
"Tell us what you need to Rosemary, we would do it for our Hummus", offered Asparagus - the harried husband of Shannon.
"Just perfect", thought Rosemary. "As a mark of respect to Hummus and his true love for me, I propose that each and every man in this great hall gift his wife with the costliest tiara that he could ever find. That would be a token for our friendship to Hummus", she said.
Asparagus felt like he just walked inside a bear cave soaked in mountain honey.
"But ... but ... we just bought our wives expensive gifts for thanks giving", groaned Asparagus.
"...and for christmas and new years...", said Tinnitus.
"..you forgot their birthdays..", said Discus.
"Its not even 2 months since New Year's and we need to buy them new gifts??", asked Asparagus, glancing carefully towards his wife.
Rosemary couldn't belive her luck. They had fallen for it hook, line and sink - just as she predicted. She launched into the final part of her scheme. "Two months since new year's ?? Is this what all this means to you Asparagus ?? A random gift to your wife and nothing more ?? Is the cost of a tiara so insurmountable that you have started cooking up ridiculous excuses ?? Its about setting out a day off for your wife and showing her how much she means to you. Its not about the gift or its cost Hummus, its about love and how much you care for your wife - who loves you regardless of if you give her a gift or not".

Asparagus thought about it for a second. Even if it was a celebration of his love for his wife, why does it have to be on rosemary's birthday ??
Tinnitus considered the fact that his wife's love over platinum far exceeded her love for him and despite all that, he loved his wife daily, and most importantly he didnt need a day to declare that.
Discus wondered that if the cost of the gift didnt matter, maybe he should get her a nice robe and leave it at that instead of burning his fingers over a tiara.
All three of them took a good look at their respective wives, who were listening to every word that Rosemary was saying with rapt attention, and weighed the future of their marriage if they chose to ask these questions aloud. They looked at each other, and they knew the answer. Non-existent. In anycase, what harm could it do ?? This is just a fill-in arrangement for this year. To appease all the womenfolk. By this time next year, they would have forgotten everything about Hummus and Rosemary. In unison, they broke into a bright smile and said "Of course, anything for our sweet-hearts. After all, its just for this year. Isn't it ??".

"Just this one year", Rosemary said aloud. "You wish", she thought inside. "Hummus, I would make you pay. I would make everyone of your kind pay. Men would live to regret this day. Revenge will be mine.".

An year later, In Gaul

Spaghetti Readymix liked Gaul, the people were friendly, the sun was bright, the breeze was pleasant and the romans were on the otherside of the border for good. However, he was surprised with a peculiar festival that seemed to have gained wide popularity in Gaul over the last year. A day was chosen for men to profess their love for their women. Funny, he thought, when there were 364 other days open to do precisely the same. But the single most important reason the women were happy was the gifts, which was the same reason why the men looked crestfallen and broke. Travellers from far away say all this originated in Rome when the widow of a priest's wife declared the day of her husband's death as a closed celebration among her friends and it had seemingly spread across the world. "Unsurprising", thought Readymix, "considering the penchant of women to display their gifts to their friends". Even if he could accept the concept of setting aside a day for love, Readymix could never bring himself to understand the frenzy of business that centred around the day. Illusions'n'trix offered discounts on their jewels, Mushy-mushy-Greetinx offered a rebate on their merchandise and if that wasnt enough, even Stonehenge Menhirs Inc. gave special discounts for people buying special heart-shaped menhirs - as to how it would symbolise love is anybody's guess. Spaghetti Readymix sighed in resignation. He was a happy fisherman. Happier than he ever was when he was a priest/divorce attorney in Rome sporting a different name. But even he couldnt avoid breaking into a sweat when he saw all those posters about Valentine's Day and how his fellow men cursed the name for bringing this day on their fate. One cannot blame Readymix, after all, he was known as Hummus Valentinus until an year back.

The Hand That Rocks The Cradle

2006-02-03T22:12:00.000-08:00

Countless years ago:

Crossing the last mound to the plains, I could see their camps, overflowing with swordmasters sharpening their blades. Getting ready because they know I dont stand a chance in the Challenge. Getting ready because once I fall, they would have a job at hand. To slaughter people. My people. Heck, how wouldnt they not know ?? Even I know I am going to lose. Unless someone intervenes. Unless He himself intervenes. Just at the moment when I was foreseeing an abject failure, something hid the noon-sun from my face. I looked up, and there he was. The Champion. standing at a towering height, dwarfing me by four counts to one. He looked like the one a girl would love to take home to her parents, only he would end up devouring them all for supper.

Now, now, now. Dont panic. Yes, he has a spear. He has a shield. He is probably 20 feet tall and crushes stones like they are butter cookies. But dont be afraid. Yeah right. Think. Think what I need. All that I need is a weapon. A weapon to knock that giant of a fighter down. Only it is a tad too late to find a weapon to kill a monster when he is so close I can see my reflection in his head-guard. The head-guard. The head. Hmm, why didnt I think of this earlier. No time to find a weapon. Just enough time to use anything as a weapon. Anything. Even this shiny stone. Father, Lord, God, whoever you are, If you are there somewhere, which I know you are, help me. Help me. Please.

Sometime in the near future

"I did itttt", I screamed on top of my voice and the missus just dropped the bag of washclothes she was carrying.
"You startled me", she said in a tone that would cut through air.
"I did it, sweetheart. I beat all those jokers who laughed behind my back. I knew I would and I just did", I was talking incoherently.
"You licked your own elbow ??", she asked, the sarcasm not showing.
"No no, I just got my time traveller working", I said proudly.
"Ah, good. Now let me move on because unlike you, I have some real work to do".
That was when it hit me. Damn. How careless have I been.
"Honey ....", I said in a tone not too different from a kid who broke the windshield of his father's BMW playing baseball.
"What now ??", said my wife, still not seeing the flashing redlights on top of my head.
"You see, the time machine is a complicated device. I was able to get the photons in place...."
"What did you do ??"
"... and even the neutrons, it was just a child's play to get them play ball.."
"I dont like the sound of this, what did you do ??"
"....but you see the mastozons, they were in a different league. I could get them move one way, but not the other. Which means, I can send things back in time ..."
"What did you send ??", now I can see a thin line of panic.
"...but I cannot get them back until I get the mastozon blaster up and running .."
"What did you send ??", touching the red.
"...which should be anytime soon ... so, dont freak out, will you ??"
"Oh harold, what did you send ??", she screamed dropping down the basket. Well and truly panicing.

Again, countless years ago

He was a kid. Just a kid. And he was unarmed. Yes, irrespective of the damage done to my skull, I remember he was unarmed. I also remember him going down on his knees to pick up something. To begin with, I was on my guard, wondering if he had some hidden device to split the earth right from under me, you know like that moses guy. But when he lifted a pebble, only a pebble, I was wondering if this some local way of declaring a ceasefire. In fact, I could even see it coming and I wanted to crush it with my fingers just for theatrics. And then, two things hit me. One, the fact that the kid was a magician far more experienced and talented than what he looks like and two, The White Giant who hit me hard in the face two seconds earlier. Nice trick kid, to hide a Giant in a Pebble. Ah, now things are getting murkier. Time to die. So long fellow philistines, it was a pleasure plundering with you.

The White Giant chimed twice indicating that the last spin and tumble were done and drained the detergent into the Valley of Elah.

Around The Coast in 8 Days

2006-01-25T21:57:00.000-08:00

Double Whammy

A setback or a double blow.

Whammy 1: When your friends who come to pick you stop in their tracks looking at your suitcase which looks like KingKong's weekend backpack. One of them actually wonders if you are going back home straight. All of them give sly smiles.

Whammy 2: After you have explained to them about your planning capabilities and how you have handled every eventuality that could ever arise, you find that you have missed (a) your tooth-brush, (b) your winter jackets and thick gloves and (c) the powercord to your laptop. Considering the fact that (a) you have to brush atleast once a day, (b) you have travelled to the east coast during winter and (c) you have beaten your chest like a bull-troll to folks that you would "work from home", this should qualify as a triple whammy. Look on the brighter side, you have enough innerwear to last you a few years on a remote island.

Dog-tired

Exhausted to the point of open-mouthed panting like a dog.

New Yorkers are in love with quite a bunch of things. Honking is one. Definitely. Walking is another. An average newyorker would spend a good portion of his life walking down the pavements than, say, breathing and blinking. The whole of NewYork is just a big grid with avenues running north-south and streets running east-west. Pick two numbers in random, and that would be a spot in the city. Of course, you can rent a car and drive inside NYC, but you also need to convert your entire ancestral property into dollars to pay the parking fees, this is assuming you are lucky enough to find one. Second, you have to hope that your car remains in the same position and the same way as it was parked. Third, and the most difficult part, is that you have to renew your insurance policy against accidental runovers by cabs. So I walk. From WTC to Wall Street. And then I walk again. From Wall Street to Battery Park. And then I walk yet again. From Battery Park to Brooklyn Bridge. Since I havent dropped dead yet, I start walking again, from Brooklyn Bridge to Broadway. And mind you, all this in the first day. United Nations, 5th Ave, Park Ave, Lexington Ave, Broadway, Times Square, Central Park - If I had walked in a straight line wearing a cotton garb over a matter of principle on Retail Rights on Distribution of Sodium Chloride, I could have atleast made it big (mind you, no disrespect to the gentleman in question). Sigh.

On A Wing and A Prayer

Hoping to succeed relying only on good fortune.

Getting stuck in a car in the downtown of any city is a nightmare. If it is washington, d.c, its worse. For some reasons, the route to a specific destination does not involve straights, pillayar temples, lefts, nayar tea stalls, rights and a corporation water tank. In here, it is north, blocks, south-east and avenues. Since my sense of direction would make me belong in the leagues of Roald Amundsen and Edmund Hillary, directions were out of question. After having incurred the wrath of The Chimp by waking her up at 4 in the morning (which was after she crashed at 1 am after a bad day at work), I couldn't goad her to go faster, lest she would throw me out of the car and run me over just to feel better. With the clock inside her car ticking away to glory, I started seeing scenes of being stranded in the station with my monster suitcase. Usually, as a thumb rule, most of the folks here I have spoken with knew only the name of their street. A handful knew the closest running street. Almost none could remember two streets from where they stay. A street few blocks away and you would be a suspect sizing up the neighborhood. Imagine a monster running out of a car at 5 in the morning and asking such questions. Considering my luck, if I startle a finger-itchy cop, it would be bye-bye-blue-sky. But then, since I was on a prayer (title appears; applause), the two gentlemen who put me on the right route and the ticket station clerk who sent me to the right gate in that alibaba cave of a train station could have had wings (title re-appears, applause again) hidden inside their shirts. Thanking my stars, I later tell The Chimp that the train was late. The Chimp doesnt even react, but says that her clock in her car was fast. Cliches. I love them.

A Fool's Errand
An attempt to do something that has no chance of success.

You are in a party where the motto is to get sloshed. You turn to your left and you see someone gulping down beer. To your right is that lady who is shaking a martini. Behind is a big group debating the pros and cons of white wine vis-a-vis red wine by using themselves as test subjects. And right ahead is the big cellar which is a whos-who of the world of booze. You dont feel lost out, because you are a genius. You have strategically planted a bottle of apple cider which comes in a case that would easily pass for champagne and looks surprisingly close to it in texture. To cap off your genius, your pour it onto a transparent glass and use your sleep-weary eyes as a substitute for that dipsy look. People think you are going to get wasted if you take another sip, and you prove them wrong by driving down another mug. Alls well. And then, at the end of the party, your best friend's wife expresses her sincere disappointment that she has run short of apple cider and hopes that you can manage with mountain dew because everything else has alcohol. Someone puts a pin in a big balloon.

Good Samaritan

A good samaritan is one who helps another in a time of need with no thought of reward.

Someone who cancels his date with his girlfriend to show you around his town and get you good lebanese food for dinner - Mall

Someone who lets a stranger inside their house just because someone else vouched for it (the sanity levels of that someone is under heavy dispute) - Appu

Someone who walks the walk and talks the talk with you (literally) inspite of having walked down the same alleys a million times over on a weekend which otherwise could have been spent peacefully - Vish

Someone who takes every effort from picking you up from the airport on your day in, and your safe way back to the airport on the way out, goes one more step and puts you up in his apartment right in the heart of manhattan (10 blocks from Times Square - no kidding) - Bull

Someone who actually bunks work just to give you company inspite of having a bad hair day at office, cooks your dinner and puts up with your eccentricities - The Chimp.

You were unbelievable folks. Really.

2006 - In Style

2006-01-04T22:56:00.000-08:00

Courtesy The Christ and The Anti-Christ (well, one of them anyway), we had a week off before the new years, and this year's prep up to the new year is by far the best. It all started off with a drive through Nevada to Vegas, some lavish Roulette and Backgammon at "The BellagiO", An indoor beach inside a night club, Vodka (of course, shaken; not stirred). That was followed by some parasailing near the Golden Gate bridge, some white water rafting, rock climbing, an amazing bungee jump near the Edgar Hoover Dam and to top it all, a bird's eye view from a suite in The Ritz to see the ball drop at Times Square. And yeah, I also killed Gold Finger and Blofeld while stopping a doomsday nuclear warhead 0.07 seconds before it exploded. C'mon folks, if you could believe all the stuff said earlier, you could as well believe this. Thanks to the one friend I have who swears by a supposedly active social calendar I have, my entire week preceding the New Year was based within an area 3 miles in radius. So, There, I do not have a calendar, I am not social and active is as far as the pole star.

In anycase, here is a random collection of stuff that would probably benefit the reader. Three Songs that have been playing throughout, Three Books I read, Three Movies of brilliance I watched, Three acts of suicide I attempted and One useful fact.

Talk by Coldplay has to rank in the top somewhere of any alternate rocker's playlist. Is it something that easily comes to british bands, the art of making easy-going music ?? With clear influences from Radiohead and U2, Coldplay are on their way to the top, if not already.

The fact that Joaquin Phoenix has given the performance of his life meant nothing to me. But the idea that Reese Witherspoon is in the reckoning for an oscar nom piqued my interest about Johnny Cash and his works. And there, I listened to Long Black Veil. I havent listened to the original. I havent listened to the other covers. I know that they wouldnt stand a chance.

I was never the intellectual types when it came to music and No, this is no attempt at modesty. I nod my head vigorously when I listen to Carnatic and when no one is looking at me I yawn and make faces. Western Classical would probably not have me making faces, but I would definitely yawn. In an attempt to strike a pose of a well-rounded individual (for you sniggering folks, thats a metaphor) , I took my first dig at Beethoven and due to divine intervention, I run into Fur Elise. One of those songs which probably even cattle would listen to in rapt attention. Heck, It held me (read: troll) for the entire three minute stretch. Cattle should be cakewalk.

Most blurbs for books shamelessly lie about "Riveting Action" and "The Genius of a writer". The one for Artemis Fowl said "Refreshing" and that is true to the letter. A magical story with so little of magic. A fantasy story without a dragon or a dark lord who chases hapless kids in dreams. A story with different species, but no old man to shepherd the lead character. And lastly, an utterly amoral (although not for long) hero. Eoin Colfer, You rock.

Reading one book with 800 pages can be tiresome. Writing one can be worse. To write seven such books should be herculean. To keep them all interesting, Nope, I ran out of superlatives there. That is exactly what Stephen King does with The fifth book of the Dark Tower series: Wolves of The Calla. How King manages to hold our attention by alluding slyly to pop-culture (fans of harry potter, watch out ;-) ) is beyond me. In anycase, the sixth book lies at a hand's reach and I cant wait to get to it.

For someone with very limited knowledge of books like me, Christopher Priest is a lost name. But for someone who thinks Christopher Nolan is the next best thing to happen to hollywood like me, this would ring a bell. Yes folks, Nolan is currently onto three projects - A batman sequel, A movie called The Exec and a Movie adaptation of Christopher Priest's Prestige. Inspite of 80% of the book being in reported speech, Priest manages to keep the suspense until the last page. Cant wait to see Nolan's script-writing genius take this to the theatres.

Gael Garcia Bernal gives a true-to-life performance of the charismatic Che Guevara in his early 20-s in the spanish movie The Motorcycle Diaries. Filmed in such eye-catchy locations like The Andes and The Atacama, the movie talks about how a young doctor called Ernesto became an icon like Che. Would recommend all those yuppies who wear a Che T-Shirt to watch this movie first. Mental note: Cancel plans for trip to Vegas. Save aforesaid money for trip to south america.

A fledgling director approaches a studio with his retro script called American Graffiti. The studio, in a current daze of indie films, approves it after finding a producer. The director, then casts two relatively unknown guys as leads and a completely unknown guy for a minor role. Later, the studio threatens to stop the movie and scratch the project, only for the producer to pledge his own skin to get it through. Thankfully, the movie made enough money and everyone got their careers in motion. The director, later made another movie starring the actor who played a minor role and both of them became marginally popular. The name of the movie was Star Wars and the character offered was one Han Solo. The producer made some name for himself, you might have heard the name Francis Ford Coppola somewhere. And yeah one of the lead heroes, A Richard Dreyfuss starred in a moderatelly successful movie called Jaws and the other one, A Ron Howard won something called an Oscar for directing a movie called A Beautiful Mind. Folks, watch American Graffiti and you know the reason behind such great movies like Star Wars and Indiana Jones. Well, let us not talk about the prequels shall we ??

A POW camp in Germany '44. A cold-hearted commandant. A wily barrack-superintendent. A mysterious spy amidst the american prisoners. What is new, you ask. I have seen The Great Escape, you say. No, my friend. You still havent heard the best part. Now add Billy Wilder into the equation and you get a cynical hero, a tireless captain, a smart lieutenant, two comic grunts and some good music. In case I forgot, a truck full of humor that would have you laughing and cheering on. Stalag 17 beats any other WWII movie by a landslide with its depiction of clear-cut characters, all defined in-depth and deep humor and emotion. If you are a WWII movie fan, dont miss this for your life.

It is being brought to my notice that people propound a theory that making Lemon Rice is one of the easiest things on Earth. That is a lie. There are people who squeeze lemon after lemon in an attempt to change the color of the rice to golden yellow, only realising later that its the turmeric powder that does it and end up eating lemon puree with rice toppings. Easy, my freaking left foot.

When I was a kid, I had a great joke in my sleeve. Seriously, at that point of time, everyone would burst out laughing when I throw it at them. These days, I would be lucky to get out in one piece. The joke is a humorous song. Now, think of something really tragic because you are going to end up tearing your guts. You have been warned. It goes thus: "Washing powder Nirma. Aaya veetla Gurma". Bwahahaha. In anycase, all that is irrelevant info. The point being, finally, I made Kurma which would get atleast 35% marks in any scale.

I decree Drumstick as the King of Vegetables. Regardless of all the mushy bagyaraj jibes about how it helps in you-know-what during you-know-when, there is nothing to beat the flavor it gives to Sambar. Absolutely. Makes you think you are Sanjeev Kapoor.

The one useful fact, as promised, for all bloggers. When you are seriously running short of time to update your blog, shamelessly make it into a hodge-podge of stuff that you did over the last week. Sometimes, it just works. Trust me.

First Kiss

2005-12-25T12:32:00.000-08:00

You never forget it. And I dont either. Because sometimes, Its the only one you got. After reading Ganja Turtle's blog on our long-gone quizzing life, my wheel-chair bound memory galloped into a staggering sprint. There is so much to write about - winning, losing, swearing, whooping, hi-fiving, nail-biting, disgracing, elevating. So after carefully treading through the lot, I decide on this narrative, one of the earliest quizzes when Ganja and I partnered.

Back in the spring of 97, when ganja turtle was lean-and-mean with a 3.14-pack abs (you really have to see it to believe it. But I would advice that you try it on an empty stomach) and I was slowly learning the ropes in the quizzing profession adjusting to an unwashed jeans and hawai slippers, we left for coimbatore to participate in an intra-college fest called Confluence hosted by GRD college. Those were the days when the rest of the world always thought that madurai was a black hole fit only to release new vijayakanth movies and the natives were equipped with a Standard Issue sword three feet in length which was used to end disputes amicably. Some conceded that we might be able to spell the word "quiz". So, when we cleared the prelims and made it to the finals, we wouldnt be surprised if our prelims paper was double-checked just so to make sure.

As is a tradition in most college quizzes, the quizmaster had his own favorite team, whom I would call bunchajokers for want of a better name. We largely went unnoticed. One would expect that all this seemingly insulting techniques would make us roar and get pumped up. But since the ganja turtle couldnt care less and I care even lesser, we still remained with that half-doped look.

Now, I would like to give a brief peek into our long-running relationship with Dame Luck. When we wink at Dame Luck for a harmless coffee, she doesnt stop at turning us down. She either calls her body-builder brother or Assistant Commissioner father or kicks us hard in the solar plexus. On our better days, she does all three. That day just happened to be one of our best days.

The quiz was turning out to be predictable. Bunchajokers giving the right answer, the whole crowd applauding like they won a lottery, the rest of the teams fighting for the second place and we falling back upon "Pass" as the universal answer. Half-way through, we were still admiring at the big egg we had against our name and Ganja was losing it. Now, those were the times where I was out in the team for nothing more than moral support and chat company. If Ganja wasnt going to answer, the quizmaster might as well move to the next team. But since he doesnt know all that, he proceeds with his question. Something I suspect he asked to help us get on the scorecard. "Long, Fine, Short. If you add the word 'leg' to all of the above, with which game would you associate the phrases to??". They say when you are about to die, your whole life pans in front of your eyes. When you are in the gutters in a quiz, you forget your own name. With Ganja refusing to even hear what the quiz master says, I took the liberty to give it a shot. Three fateful seconds later, I gave him an answer. "Football". Freeze. This is a landmark moment. One I could proudly write as a note and pass for a valid reason in commiting suicide. Imagine being bred in a cricket-crazy country. Imagine remembering all useless cricket statistics about Gary Sobers having the record for the highest score in a maiden century. Imagine talking for hours about cricket with all your friends. Imagine associating "Long leg, Fine leg and Short leg" with football after having a mental breakdown in front of a crowd of good-looking coimbatore chics. Do you feel like mail-ordering me a shotgun ?? The collective "oooohhhhh" from the audience touched new levels in the disgust-meter.

With absolutely no respite, the gruelling quiz went on with us adamantly refusing to get on the board. When all hope was lost, Dame Luck, who had previously beaten us to pulp, turned back and gave a teasing smile. As every quizzer would know, a question that you would love to crack always goes to the next team on the list, thereby making it go through the longest of orbits before it reaches you. Usually, the team just before you in the list cracks it in the last second and leaves you heart-wrenched making you dive headfirst into alcohol after the quiz gets over. "Who was the first Indian sports personality to be signed by Pepsi". I lifted up my head like a man who went hungry for 1 week would do when he hears the word "gruel". "Sachin" (God, let this come to me). "Jadeja" (You know how much this means to me). "Pass" (There, There, Easy) "Time's up" (keep it coming, keep it coming) "Azhar" (I am not asking for a win, Just save us from total disgrace, will ya) and "American College, you have an answer ??". Summoning up all my energy, I muster "Kapil Dev". Freeze frame again. Moment of truth. Dame luck now gives a shy smile. "And finally", says that megalomaniacal patronising buckethead quizmaster "american college gets on the board. give them an applause people". For the first time, I realised an applause isnt pleasant all the time. Sometimes its like someone accidentally caught you when you were blabbering your girl friend's name in the sleep. Embarassing.

But what this meant was Ganja had finally woken up from his slumber. I think the fact that I answered a question would have made him seriously think about life, universe and everything. In any case, that meant that Ganja was back in the groove. In other words, everyone better run for cover. Suddenly, the entire scene changed. With a blistering rear-guard attack, Ganja brought us into contention for a podium when the rapid fire round started. Every other team, which had looked like hotshot cowboys, had to stand aside when big-daddy revved up his sixshooters. Ganja went murderous. We stacked points. The other teams gasped. Dame luck just beckoned us to sit with her on a big mahogany table for dinner. At the end of the carnage, We were tied for the first spot with bunchajokers and the contest, which was a no-contest until Ganja woke up, went into a tie-breaker.

The tie-breaker is Dame Luck's favorite round where she throws a stilletto at us and proceeds to watch us die slowly. Tie-breaker. One question. Winner takes all. With all the infinite amount of wealth displayed by the organisers, they forgot to get buzzers for the quiz and so it was upto good-old "raise your hand first". "If A is Alpha and B is Beta, What is E". Two hands went up in the air in unison. That smug-looking bugger in bunchojokers and Ganja. "Ah, I think bunchojokers went first. I am sorry American College", the know-it-all quizmaster had a look in his eyes which said "get it over with guys, a team from madurai in the finals in itself is too hard to handle, them winning will be catastrophe". Smug-looking bugger gives his answer without a hesitation. "Gamma". There. Freeze frame. Reality strikes. All the hard work, down the drain. So near yet so far. Always the bridesmaid, and never the bride. Another day at work. Dame Luck's Coup-de-Grace. The quizmaster had a look on his face like he got a pile-drive. "Thats Incorrect. And the winner is ....American College, Madurai". If I were to weigh the incredulity in his voice in Gold, I could buy Fort Knox twice over. I also remember counting exactly six pairs of hands clapping. All our classmates who had disowned us after my "football" answer. The rest of the crowd was busy acknowledging the existence of Madurai in the Tamilnadu provincial map. Dame Luck hadnt deserted us. She had given us a peck on the cheek.

As me and Ganja walked down the stage to raucous screams demanding us to throw few whiskeys for the night, I told Ganja "Cool da .. But i wish if we had cracked it than winning it by default. He should have asked you the question.". Ganja, in his drawly voice says, "But I didnt know the answer".
"But .. But .. You raised your hand, you moron".
"Yes, I did".
"What if he had asked you the question ??"
"We would have lost", said Ganja, matter of factly.
Freeze frame. Dame luck didnt give us a peck on the cheek. She gave us a full-blooded, deep-throated, french kiss.

The old shoe

2005-12-19T14:56:00.000-08:00

Lord Hanuman moved Mount Sanjeevini without breaking a sweat. Yes, he had to cleanup a few demons on the way, but thats another day at work for him. I just had to move from one apartment from another and I think I broke a few ribs.

The idea of a new beginning and all that rosy imagery was there. But what I had failed to count was for every rosy beginning, there usually was a lousy ending. With one room-mate having successfully waltzed his way back to India and busy distributing sweets to eligible women, it was upto the two of us to bring in any semblance of the house having had only human beings as inhabitants. Blessed with an older room-mate - which means a higher level of wisdom and a sense of keeping a half of the house clean - meant that there was only one room that needed intensive care. Mine.

The biggest war-torn province of any house is the Kitchen. Considering our adventurous spirits in the culinary area, there can be times when it can look like someone used the washing machine instead of the blender and spewed food all over, but not always. Gives a nice colorful look, but breaks your back when you have to wipe it off. The amount of eateries left uneaten would have made a grand banquet dinner in somalia. Sweet, sour, spicy, bitter. Snacks, bites, cereals and cakes. Juices, cordials, shakes and ice-creams. And I still havent gotten to the doughnuts and cookies. Gowrava prasadhams come second in stature.

After having two room-mates who singlehandedly (pun intended) revived the american economy and were indirectly responsible for a vault in the american GDP, all that we got was boxes. Big brown boxes. Amazon, Best Buy, Circuit City, CompUSA, Sony Style - the whos who of american shopdom was lying belly-open in cardboard inside our apartment in astonishing numbers that I could actually ship myself back to India in them. Thankfully, banana skins and orange peels were disposed from time to time.

A few cut fingers courtesy the grill in the kitchen, some ripped off nails courtesy the surface of the hopelessly stained shower-room, an irritated eye with copious tears courtesy an overactive cleaning liquid which took its job a bit seriously, you would be forgiven if you think I was a disgruntled war vet. Equipped with tonnes of wisdom that will eventually be forgotten after this post, I stop for a minute and think of the people I know doing this for close to 60 years now without a single sigh. I think of myself complaining about the temperature control at work. I stop thinking because all this is too philosophical for a monday morning.

Thank you folks

2005-12-09T09:20:00.000-08:00

If this site is still rated PG and is not full of tarantino-esque vocabulary, If I still havent bought that Uzi and made a sieve out of a select few who have "screwing up someone's life real tight" as their motto, one would have to thank a few folks who do the unpaid job of acting as anti-depressants. Ms Harrison, Dickenson, Waters, Knopfler, Fenley, Page & Co. Rock music, or for that matter any form of western music, is seen as a stream of music where you have to dope to listen to music, get a tattoo of a mythical monster on your arms, ride bikes, date leather-clad chics and most importantly worship the devil. To break that myth and get people started on listening to good music, here goes a list of songs that are truly greats, in every sense of the world. If someone, anyone, gets an interest, I think my job is half done.

I wasnt born listening to this music. Ganja Turtle has seen me scream "18 till I die" and "backstreet's back allright". But then, courtesy a lilendian (who is a actually a pretty big indian), I was cleansed. What follows is a list of songs which you really have to make a effort in hating. There are thirteen songs, each by one band who have stood the test of time. 13 Songs in Arunthur's Dozen.

1. Sultans of Swing - Sultans of Swing - Dire Straits
When it comes to Knopfler's vocals, there are two schools of thought. One says knopfler sings, the other says he talks. But when it comes to his guitar, there can only be one school. One that agrees his guitar talks better. My first song that didnt involve a bunch of boys crooning about love. And what a song at that. A live version has Knopfler rubbing shoulders with Clapton. That is like Hitler and Mussolini teaching Criminal Sciences.
A-side: Money for Nothing

2. Time - Dark Side of The Moon - Pink Floyd
As volunteers of this new generation, one of our chief attributes is procrastination. Right from snuggling deep inside the sheets in the mornings (which is okay) to checking online communities and posting on flame wars (which is not), we procrastinate. One way to wake up and get a life is to buy a brand new shovel and ask your best friend to hit you hard in the head. A safer way is to listen to Waters singing "Time". That is a wake up call that would work even on Kumbhakarnan.
A-side: Another brick in The Wall

3. Won't get fooled again - The Who
A hard thump from the drums, an electric riff, topped off by the always-hyper pete townshend. A song that rips apart anyone who promises a revolution or a new beginning or any of that happy bullfeces. "Meet the new boss. Same as the old boss". One tight slap on the face. Maybe they should play this to the Dravida parties in tamilnadu. Dont bet on anything happening with them though.
A Side: Sparks

4. Hard day's night - The Beatles
It takes great innovation and hardwork to make a whole generation go crazy and run behind your songs. It takes harder work to pick one song out of a whole list of chart busters. I have to settle for Hard day's night purely for the adrenaline in it. From start to end, Starr (one of the lesser populars in the band, for whatever reason) keeps up the beat with lennon oozing love in his lyrics, my favorite beetle George and everone else's favorite Paul bringing up the rear. If your girlfriend likes a ride on the wild side, try this. Its on my list anyways ;-).
A Side: Yesterday

5. Take it Easy - Eagles
Imagine the bright blue sky. Imagine a cool, but not cold, breeze blowing across your face. Imagine the sea to one side and a park on the other. Throw in the setting sun. Pedal your bicycle. Let go of the wheels and close your eyes. Be one in the nature. Wait, there is something missing, isnt there ?? Just add "Take it Easy" somewhere in the picture - playing inside your head or on a player or in the nearest cafe. Adds a fresh new flavor to the whole setting.
A Side: Hotel California

6. Purple haze - Jimi Hendrix
Ganja is crude. Hashish is outdated. Cocaine can be dangerous. The easiest, quickest, safest way to go on a high is to buy a nice pair of headphones and play Purple Haze. The riffs by the left-handed Jimi Hendrix are not of this earth. Definitely. When he screams "Excuse me, while I kiss the sky", it feels exactly that. Just dont listen to it from a terrace without rails.
A Side: Voodoo child

7. Burning for you - Blue Oyster Cult
In the days of Hip-hop and Rap, a song which doesnt cuss you and your family is a bonus. Expecting it to serve any purpose is a joke. This song serves two purposes. Apart from a racy number by bloom, it also helps if you dedicate this to your girlfriend who is just going to read the title and fall flat. I cant guarantee the girlfriend going p-l-o-n-k, but I can guarantee you playing the air-guitar shaking your head like you just found that it is there for banging.
A Side: Dont fear the reaper

8. Highway Star - Deep Purple
Rumour has it that once when God misplaced his bow and arrow, he was so distraught and walked into a recording studio, Looked at something that looked like a weapon, picked up a guitar and turned up for a recording. The result: Highway Star. Move over folks, I listened to it live.
A Side: Smoke on the water

9. Jailhouse Rock - Elvis Presley
No song list can be complete without The King. People say a thamizhan cant keep his posterior to the ground if he hears "tappanguthu". Jailhouse Rock is another of those cant-keep-me down numbers. A cut here, A slant there, A jerking knee here, A shaking hand there, A sideburn that almost touches the chin, A crop of hair right in between your eyes and some magical vocals. That should do some justice to the song. Throw away all your trance-loving friends and check out the real deal.
A Side: Hound dog

10. Cocaine - Eric Clapton
Guilty pleasure. Again, you are left with a thought if it was clapton who was drugged when listening to this song, or was it you who is stoned because of listening to this song or is it both of you ?? But then, you dont bother because as long as you are high, nothing else matters. A song to listen after coming back from a hard days work, sitting on your couch and loosening your tie. As clapton himself says when you got bad news or if you want to kick 'em blues, Cocaine.
A Side - Layla

11. Roadhouse Blues - The Doors
One genius per song is a good mix. Two makes you feel heady. Thats exactly what a rendition of Roadhouse Blues does. Jim Morrison on the vocals, Ray Manczarek on the keyboard. You could just hitch a ride to The Elysian Fields with that. Morrison writes one of the most pragmatic lyrics of all time. "The future is uncertain and The end is always near". Ah, its great to be pessimistic.
A-side: Light my fire

12. Susie Q - Credence Clearwater Revival
All bryan adams/bon jovi/MLTR/Marc Anthony fans, take a number and stand in the queue. Here is a song that tells love the way it is supposed to instead of asking the girl to paint your love or asking if you have you ever really (thrice - that is very important, gives an emphasis you see) loved a woman. The lyrics in Susie Q are simple, straight, precise and to the point. "Say that you will be mine, baby all the time, susie Q". Isnt that all it boils down to ??
A-side: Bad moon rising

13. When the Levee breaks - Led Zeppelin
You hitched a ride to the elysian fields with two geniuses in one song. Try 4 now. Page, Plant, Bonham and JPJ. Such songs happen once in a lifetime, and if you are blessed, the band exists when you are alive. Bonham keeps a heart-pumping rhythm from the opening, with page freaking out in his regular style, and JPJ, as an exceptional bassist prowling in the background biding his time and keeping the song alive and Plant joining in with a drawl in his voice. Makes you understand why god gave you two ears in the place of one.
A-side: Stairway to Heaven

Sin V

2005-11-29T10:50:00.000-08:00

There is a thin line between a Gourmet and a Gourmand. And it is pretty okay to cross it once in a while. Really, Kevin Spacey or not, It is okay to indulge in good food because that it is its purpose. With so many exotic cuisines abound, this blog, for a change, aims at giving the Gourm(and)et prior notice of what s/he is getting himself/herself into before ordering the "Soup of The Day". It can be embarassing to scream one's head out like I did after ordering "french onion" and finding an egg in it. (Go on, spill your guts laughing). However, this should not be misconstrued for some kind of assurance by this blog that it would provide useful info at any point of time in the future. That being said, let us cut to the plate.

If you are bored to death, you can watch Animal Planet or go to a Zoo or go to a Cambodian Restaurant. If you are a non-vegetarian and you just snort at this, be rest assured that the menu will make you think you are a practicing vegan in comparison. Crab's claws, Squid's eyeballs and Frog's legs are okay if they are on the white basin in a genetics research lab, not on the menu and definitely not on my table. Usually, when I think the menu isnt good, I order a milkshake for fillers. This time, I didnt because I am not Indiana Jones to be okay about having an eyeball for dessert. Thanks to the waitress who looked at our faces, read the lines, gave a wry smile and let us out without a question.
Minus: A menu straight out of the wild
Plus: An experimenter's dream

For moderately spicy food, music that tells you the origin of many a song by hindi music directors and some gorgeous looking waitresses, hit a lebanese restaurant. With most of the dish names sounding curvaceous (Fasolia, Balila and Tabil - I have a feeling these were already used in some thamizh song), and most importantly __all__ vegetarian, it comes down to getting the right combination and enjoying the other bits. Dont worry about the protocol, I remember spreading all the dishes on my bread and eating it like sandwich.
Minus: Curvaceous all right, but the names of the dishes could be more universal. It feels bad when a beautiful waitress giggles at your hopeless pronounciation of the dish.
Plus: Veggie folks, rock on.

For that cattle like feeling, visit an ukrainian restaurant. My salad had a tonne of lettuce. My friends "Kiev Cutlet" had two tonnes of lettuce. My main dish had, guess what, lettuce wraps containing carrot and beetroot. Each wrap the size of a cricket ball, and three of them at that. With our intro of "we are new to russian cuisine" to the owner of the restaurant, and him looking at our plates eagerly, all that we could do was to put a broad smile, make a few "hmmm... thats good" reactions and graze the table. After answering a "you guys enjoyed it" with a thick russian accent by saying "you bet", I felt one with a Jersey Cow. A perfect hangout for Vegans, Pacifists and Eco-warriors.
Minus: Check if you have grown two horns on the way out. It is a distinct possibility.
Plus: Even the water tastes like vodka, or say they say.

Big Bang

2005-11-19T23:40:00.000-08:00

"Congratulations Lews. The Ingtar-Lews comet is on its expected trajectory and in around 15 minutes, we would have it crashing into the planet Klendathu as we predicted. With the complete obiliteration of Klendathu due to the impact, we might get some answers to how our universe was even formed. We are going to be part of history Lews, in fact, we are history", said Ingtar, the head-professor of the institute.
Lews was not thrilled. "But sir, what if....", said Lews in an angry tone tearing the paper of the notebook in which he was writing.
Ingtar took his seat in front of his panoramic terminal which would capture the comet making contact. "What if what, Lews ??"
"What if there is life ?? We know we can divert the comet with our weapons. We know we could've did just that with just one directive from our institute, but we didnt. What if there is life that could be saved while we are trying to televise a comet crashing into a planet for some unintelligible scientific reason ?? ", said Lews. The voice that Ingtar heard wasnt the the voice that he usually heard from Lews.
"Unintelligible did you say ??", remarked Ingtar. Ingtar didnt want to lose patience on his best graduate student."My boy, science is everything. science is anything. science is nothing. Let me ask you this. Did you observe the reports given by The Galactic Conqueror on the planet's composition??"
"Uh .. yes".
"Do you think any lifeform would actually prefer to live in that atmospheric conditions, considering the percentage of the poisonous gases ??"
"No".
"Then what makes you think there could be life on that planet, Lews ??", queried Ingtar. He was not going to give up on Lews.

"I do not know, but something tells me there could be life on Klendathu. something. Just a gut feeling", a nervous Lews said toying with the piece of paper in his hand which he had rolled into a ball. He did that when he didnt know what to do next.

"Impact in T Minus 3 minutes", chirped a recorded voice.
Ingtar was now at his educative best. "Son, you are reading too many science fiction novels. They are all-fiction-no-science authors who didnt have a glimpse of Klendathu like we did. What makes you think there is some other intelligent life form out there ?? If there was one in any of the other planets, dont you think they could have tried to talk to us ?? Dont you think we would have visited any planet which had inhabitable conditions and searched for life ?? I suggest you turn to your monitor to watch the impact, you wouldnt want to lose it for your life", said Ingtar, now turning back to his terminal.

"Impact in T Minus 2 minutes".

Lews was still looking pointedly at the paper ball. What Ingtar said made sense. In a way. If there was some form of intelligence, they would have definitely made contact with them. When Klendathu was discovered, and named after one of the great nebulan gods, it was noted for its absolute uninhabitable atmosphere. Life was simply unimagineable in those conditions. Maybe Ingtar was right. Maybe he wasnt.

"Impact in T Minus 1 minute".

"I wish I knew what the people of Klendathu called their planet in their native tongue", said Lews looking up. Ingtar swivelled in his chair. Two of his hands still turning the right controls on The Galactic Conqueror, while his other two hands were cupped together to indicate he was thinking. He looked deeply into Lews' eyes, all six of them, and said "mmmm .. maybe third rock from the sun ??". Ingtar laughed thunderously at his own joke.

Impact in T minus 10 seconds.

Lews opened the paper ball in his hand and looked at his drawing. An image of an hommonus from klendathu, like they show in the movies, with just two hands, two legs and two eyes, holding hands with a femmenus, again looking physically similar. He sighed and took a deep breath. The pure nitrous-sulfur filled his lungs. He shivered at the thought of having to breath oxygen for a living on Klendathu. He looked at the drawings. "I am sorry. I really am". He threw it into the dust bin.

Impact in T minus 1 second.

Credits
========
Eugene M Schumacher
David Levy
Robert Jordan
Robert Heinlein
Bonnie Turner
Terrie Turner

VancouBrrrrr

2005-11-10T12:26:00.000-08:00

Someone rename this place to that. It is cold. Yes, Alaska is colder but am from chennai where anything below 10degrees celsius is "unusual" and 3degrees is inhuman. 0degrees is only theoretical. When the rest of the city walks with just an overcoat, you are advertising the fact that you are a tourist when you are wearing that skull cap and a pair of woolen gloves. If some paranoid cop is around, you are probably advertising that you are a planning a bank robbery with that skull-cap pulled so close down your scalp. But Thanks, I'd rather dodge bullets than getting partially paralysed.

In certain circles, I am called Rob Mckenna. I think I have the inherent capability of awakening water spirits wherever I go. But this time, the water spirits just didnt wake up. They performed a full-fledged orchestral symphony. It was bright and sunny until the flight reduced altitude into seattle. And then it rained. It rained like God was engrossed in the latest episode of "Kolangal" and forgot to shut down the garden hose. Right from the moment we landed in seattle uptill the time we came to vancouver holding our lives between two arbitrary lanes of the Interstate 5, trying hard to avoid aquaplaning (which I have read only in books) and gruesome death by roadkill (which seemed like reality at one point of time). It was like someone was deputed with the sole purpose of sitting on the top of our car and pour buckets of water on a regular basis. Whoever it was, did it exceedingly well.

But the clincher of the trip was three apparently unconnected events.
A. Me and my colleague deciding to save some costs for the company and deciding to share a room.
B. The stewardess asking more than once if we needed one room or two.
C. Me trying to figure out places to visit in Vancouver and Google sardonically including www.gayvancouver.net

We insisted on having separate umbrellas to walk in the rain.

Cultural Tsunamis

2005-10-26T23:12:00.000-07:00

The biggest challenge in adapting to a foreign country, apart from having to adhere to road rules and desist from mindless littering, would be handling cultural shocks, said a few of your well-wishing acquaintances. "Heh", say you, rather haughtily.

In-flight, when you saw the lady next to you order some whiskey to go with her dinner, all that it had was a familiar ring to it. Matter of fact, It was so familiar that one could've mistaken it for a hang-out in chennai. When the girl from the window-seat crossed your seat, with atleast one piercing done for every 5-square-thumbs of skin, it felt very normal again. Back home, even we are moving from ears and noses to till-now-unexplored areas like tongues, eye-brows and belly buttons. Cultural shock ?? That was not even a mosquito bite.

That clean shaven guy holding his girl friend by the waist and playing an interesting game of guessing what she had for breakfast without having to ask her ?? nah, whats out of the ordinary there ?? Havent you seen people do this in pubs before ?? Another clean shaven guy holding a guy by the waist and playing a similar interesting game, ah well, not that you have seen this regularly, but as long as they are okay, it shouldnt be anyone else's problem. A mild "woah" and nothing more.

At the gym, a newspaper hits you in the eye. Someone who tries to read a newspaper for news is going go to be slightly disappointed with that bunch of papyrus. With more than 50% of it filled it with advertisements for liposuction, breast implants and escorts services, it more than just hits you in the eye. All that it entices out of you would be a mild shake of the head. Shock ?? Fat chance. A quick glance into the supplement given for TOI would say we are headed in the right direction with promises of weight reduction and complexion enhancement within weeks.

As you finish your run in the treadmill, ruminating all this, you sort of feel proud that you havent been hit by anything as remotely as a culture shock. A lack of other things to feel proud about makes this all the more important. You feel at home anywhere you go. You connect with ease. You are a cultural monolith. You are neither shaken nor stirred. Surprisingly, You are not a vodka martini either.

Then you notice that the shower-room in the gym has walls only on three sides and a flimsy curtain for a door. A curtain. A white curtain. A strand of cloth which someone could accidentally lift, take a look, say a polite sorry and visit the next shower and leave you in tatters. You also notice the relative ease people are in at seeing a fellow-exerciser in bare-minimal garments. In a track shorts and tee-shirt, you are overdressed for the occassion. You have two choices: You can pick yourself up, give a smile as if you entered this place by mistake, stink all the way to home. Or be a part of the crowd (in other words: strip), enter an unprotected shower-room (in other words: run the risk of being scarred for the rest of your life), prove to the world that you are part of the shower-room culture and leave with your newly acquired "cultural monolith" title intact.

Tic-tock. Tick-tock. Tic-tock.
A one-mile walk back home laced with sweat: Bearable.
No more bragging about "connecting with all cultures": Acceptable.
Chastity unharmed: Priceless.

No Point Everyone

2005-09-28T22:35:00.000-07:00

Yep, our price has fallen badly. Yep, 1/3 of the earth is land and 1/2 of that land if full of software enginners, so much so that you feel like living in 1984 where everyone is as unique as everyone else. But if you look below the surface, there are still perks at being a software engineer.

One of our greatest powers is the the power to spread misinformation. Sivya Dingh needs an heart transplant ?? A mail that needs to be sent to 10 people within 10 minutes to avoid 10 years of bad luck ?? Microsoft giving 10cents for every recipient of this mail that would buy a cotton candy for a poor child in somalia (of course, with a malnourished somalian kid's picture attached to it) ?? Some poor man suffering from an itchy syndrome which can be cured only if this mail reaches a million recipients ?? Fear not, the software engineer, with his evergrowing address book filled by friends, friends-of-friends, friends-of-friends-of-friends and god-knows-who-they-are is your savior. One mail and it spawns off another 10, each in turn spawning off another 10. You do the math.

Being a software engineer gives you an incredible opportunity to play know-it-all. Imagine a crowd with lot of young women you would kill to impress. Imagine a few suave gentlemen in their best evening dress sweet-talking their way through the crowd with their overpowering knowledge of Literature and Music. Imagine you staring at the stars waiting for your fairy to come down from there. Sucks, doesnt it ?? Fear not all that is required is to spot another bewildered software engineer. With a few knowing glances, a quick message of subterfuge is delivered and they close in on the kill. What follows would be a session of "use your favorite keywords" that would leave everyone else in the crowd gasping for breath, seeing the sheer intelligence of the parties involved. While instantiating a container instance in a .net framework, does one have to continually debug the kernel threads, so that throughput is optimised and turnaround time is minimised or should one ignite a daemon process to monitor the hardware diagnostics from panic-ing ?? The crowd shudders at the depth of knowledge. The gods throw up looking at the quantity of horsesh*t.

Being a software engineer also saves you from having to invest money in a new wardrobe. These days, there are a few that companies double up for Gap/Levis/Duckback/Chudarmani/Viking.
Listed in DASNAQ ?? Release a t-shirt.
Selected as #1 in an unheard-of survey run by a magazine where the company has a controlling interest. Release another t-shirt.
Need a message to boost the morale of people in the team, no, we have had enough t-shirts already, make it a jacket.
We have become an ISE-MMC level 6 company, was it a jacket last time ?? Make it a sweatshirt this time.
Thankfully, they all remain at the periphery of the human physiology and are usually designed with such incorrigible colors, unsuitable sizes and gratuitous messages, you can safely shove them in your trunk without feeling guilty.

Have an awesome restaurant in mind, but your purse looks ultra-thin ?? You need to wait only until the next invitee comes from offshore. The software engineering industry proves that There Is Indeed Something As Free Lunch, giving us our only chance to visit the oberois and TGIFs. To show them a taste of India is what we say, to check out that new restaurant which had glowing reviews is what we actually mean. As the visiting chap sheds tears, partly over the spice and partly at their fate, we gorge on the choiciest items from the menu - in descending order of price.

Last but not least, It gives us the golden opportunity to play arm-chair critic. Sitting in the comfort of an a/c cubicle, with an ergonomically designed chair, and unlimited internet access - the next best thing is to pass judgement on all and sundry. Our favorite pastimes being "Politics is a gutter" (but we dont vote - we take time out to enjoy the holiday after weeks and weeks of monitor-gazing), "India will never improve" (ah, the exchange rate - how i love thee), "Education of children is a priority no one seems to understand" (CRY ?? what is that ?? Isnt it the art of shedding tears ??), "I hate people publicly displaying affection" (and that is strictly applicable only until i find a girl). The keyboard warrior needs no reason to fight, he only needs, by definition, a keyboard. So much for freedom of expression.

The Way We Do It

2005-09-15T20:03:00.000-07:00

A san-franciscan likes to surf, he has the amazing pacific knocking at his door. A new-yorker likes to party, what place better than the big apple and its clubs. A madras-ite loves to eat - sundal, dosa, pizza - anything that could have possibly been on a menu works fine. A coimbatorean, well, actually they dont do much - what can you expect from a town which has a few houses on either side of a national highway ?? The same can be said of a madurai-ite, but by those who know only about the madurai meenakshi temple. But beware, the madurai-ite has some hobbies up his sleeve. We, ladies & getlemen, love watching movies.

"Eh, we also watch movies. What is the big deal", you ask. I presume you are from coimbatore or madras. Always on tenterhooks. Yes, everyone watches movies. On the fourth week after its release. After booking the tickets through the internet, taking the best seats in the theatre. Watching the movie in pin-drop silence. Getting old. Yawn. What is the big difference between this and knitting a sweater ?? In madurai, we choose a firebrandish style of watching movies. Watch a movie on day #1 or go get a life. That was our Code.

We havent heard about reservations in madurai outside the railway station. Seriously. Reservation is a symbol of the snobbish bourgeoise who prefer to sit at home sipping their lemonade and turn up at the theatre 10 minutes before the bell, while the hardworking proletarian sweats outside the ticket counter to be slammed with the "house full" board in his face just when he puts his hand inside the counter. All this because he doesnt have a computer with broadband. Bah.

The first thing one needs to change is the mindset. You are going to a movie, not a date. So cut that designer shoes and branded shirt. People come there to watch Ramya Krishnan/ Khushboo or Amala or if its a telugu dubbing movie, all three together. (There, you now know am a fossil without having to resort to carbon dating). An old jeans, hawaii slippers and a wrinkled tshirt are a man's best friend. Remember to look absolutely local, but dont cross the thin line between "downright badly dressed" and "i am a black marketeer".

Once you hit the ticket counter, remember all those wildlife videos you saw on NGC and Discovery and how survival of the fittest is indeed a globally valid and fruitful idea. Remembering those WWE videos and some sumo wrestling videos would also help. If you are claustrophobic, dont remember it. It might just save your life. Remember the power of gravity, people who are climbing in the roof __will__ fall. Remember the power of murply, when they fall, they will fall on __you__. In tune with the proletarian way of life, the theatres in madurai send out a message of brotherhood. There are __no__ classes of tickets. All tickets cost the same and people get to sit __anywhere__ in the theatre (of course, with the obvious exception of the projector room - see, i know you are from either madras or coimbatore. very cocky). Compare this to the following rant by a filthy-rich man with an extended family, who comes late and interrputs you with this, exactly at the time when the villain makes a challenge to the hero and our star delivers his punch dialogue: "Hullo, C-17 to C-29 nambil ki ticketu. Jaga jaldi kalli panleinna nambal theatrekarana koopidraan". ("seat xx to seat yy are ours. vacate, or we will call the theatre folks" in a certain accent only too familiar to people back at home). Marx and Engels - Your dream lives on and it lives in Madurai.

After all the hardwork, I enter the theatre and now, I have multiple choices to pick up a fight. I can step on someone's foot repeatedly, I can bully someone into conceding a chair so that my entire gang can sit together end-to-end, I can throw my legs on the chair in front and expect him to understand, continue the fight I started in the parking lot or can settle scores with the cricket captain of the team that beat us last week. To add to this already-simmering cauldron, the theatrewallahs switch off the air-conditioner (assuming it was there to begin with) which makes me loosen two of my shirt buttons and pull the collar behind, thereby looking like my parents' worst nightmare in flesh and blood.

When the movie starts, the theatre erupts. For just about anything. Did some star appear on stage ?? No, it is just a title card with some arbitrary name of some unheard-of supporting actor. But who cares ?? Erupt again. Make him feel good if he is in the theater. At this point, all I can hear is the deafening noise of whistles and all I can see is the dark silhoutte of rectangularly cut lottery tickets in the screen. Someone just set afire a cube of camphor on his palms and is running to the screen. One can see two cans of milk ready to be disposed. The audience is so possessed that even Father Merrin would think twice before stepping in.

You sneer at the uncivilised lot. You think an endurance race could be easier. You are suprised at the obvious lack or order. You think movie watching is an art only enjoyed by the elite. "Eek, is this a movie show or some sort of tribal ritualistic dance" you ask. I would love to give you a well thought out answer. But you see, the camphor is already up in the screen and the cans of milk are emtpied coz just now my thalaivar (leader) made his appearance singing "Naan autokaaran autokaaran" (I am an autodriver) and i really need to get going for my group-tappanguthu (another symbol of universal brotherhood where the dancers and dancer-nots synch in perfect harmony - also a tribal ritualistic dance too, you are indeed prophetic - you should be from either madras or coimbatore). Go on, watch a movie making sure your crease doesnt get wrinkled and you dont break into a sweat. Good luck with that and So long.

Walk in the Park

2005-09-08T18:04:00.000-07:00

Skydiving - Cant fly - Check.
Whitewater rafting - Cant swim - Check.
Mountain climbing - Vertigo - Check.
Offroad biking - Too clumsy - Check.
Camping - Can sit still and do nothing. Aha.

Exactly my point of thought when we decided to camp for a night in the yellowstone canyon area. Off we go, with a stove, some readymade chapathis and a sweat shirt. After all, what more do we need to camp than some like-minded friends and a pack of cards ?? You think a 14-hour drive one way would scare me ?? or maybe the subzero temperatures of the night ?? Not a chance.

But I have to confess nothing prepared me for the title of the book which I unfortunately picked from the village store. "Death in Yellowstone" by Lee Whittlesey. Mind you, not plain deaths, but death by accidents and, most notably, foolhardiness. Accidents happen, they are designed that way. Foolhardiness happens, I am designed that way. A peek into the book reveals the numerous deaths of campers caused by grizzly bears. And as a final touch, recommends some further reading about how else you can get killed - overexposure to cold grounds, accidentally stepping into sulphuric acid and being bitten by wolves. If i was mogambo or van helsing, i might have enjoyed the last two.

The lady at the campgrounds was very helpful in giving us directions, hints and tips about how to handle the night. She could've left it at that. But she had to give us a map which showed where we were camping. Our camping spot was the last spot in our strip, with the whole of the jungle to our left and macabre-named highway, called the beartooth highway, running right next to it.

Setting up the campsites looked easy when we saw the others prop up theirs. It looked very easy when we read the brief instructions on the camping gear. It didnt look easy when we set our tent up and it looked like an egg. Lesson #1: Insist that atleast one geometry expert accompanies the camping party to ensure that a tent looks like a tent.

After nailing down three of the four nails deep into the ground, so deep that at one point of time we thought we might have to leave the tent behind, we find that the fourth nail cant go in since the fourth corner is a rock. Lesson #2. Check all four points before you start showing your physical prowess with the nails. Lesson #2.a. No matter what, dont drive the nails too deep. You might end up discovering petrol if you go any deeper.

The other three look around for someone to pull out the tent, and presto, there is only one around who is doing nothing else than giving directions. And off I go to tug the nail off and b-a-m, the nail doesnt move an inch, but i tear up the tent. Lesson #3 Dont let half-brained oafs near sensitive material like that.

As the sun set, everyone around us brought out the heavy duty stuff like caps and gloves. We laughed at their precautions. Later, the campfire died. The others got even. Lesson #4: A freezing temperature means __a freezing temperature__. That is why they call it __a__ __freezing__ __temperature__.

As my teeth start sending out telegrams to all and sundry, i see one from our own camp draw out his woollen gloves and another take out his monkey cap. The cozy smile they gave still looms large. Never in my life, i thought i would miss my monkey cap which i got back in school, to help me handle the cold in India as i go to my early morning tuitions. I remember throwing it away because it wasnt helping my looks. Now, relax, that was the time when i didnt know that nothing can help my looks, but anyways, thats beside the point. Lesson #5. Robinhood was right. You got to steal from the rich and give it to the poor.

As the temperature dropped like a startup's stock, the chattering teeth became even more erratic. But no, i didnt come here to chicken out. Bears, Cold, Cozily clad friends, Freezing feet, Chattering teeth, Numb hands, Rugged grounds - All they can do is watch because when I decide to do something, I do it. By staying out in the cold and sleeping in the ground, am sending out a message to all of those who are fighting to stay in the game. If I can do it, so can you. Nothing is impossible, it is only a state of mind. A fall in the temperature and a sharp stone in the ground are just too tiny to shake my resolve. I came here to camp, and camp I will. I came here to battle the elements, and battle I will.

Then it got colder and I slept inside the car for the rest of the night. Anticlimax, yes. But this blog is no hot & sour soup for the soul.

Camping - Unfit - Check.

Hope Springs Eternal

2005-08-25T17:07:00.000-07:00

Few days back, the online version of Hindu had the CBSE class X results on the first page. "Girls Shine Again" it reads. "Again" ?? Why "Again" ?? As if there ever was a ever a break from this trite.

Kindergarten is only a hazy memory. Anycase, we had time only to cry after parents dropped us at school and to get scared when the anglo-indian teacher appeared with dotted-canes. So "A" grazed past the rest of the guys to be teacher's pet and first rank holder, all by telling people A is for Apple and B is Ball while intelligent guys were left wondering why isnt A for Audis and B for Benz.

Elementary school was supposed to make us wise. We ensured that it was only "supposed" to do that. Scientifically, it has been concluded that the much-prevalent jewellery craze in the opposite sex begins at around 6 years of age. Since pendants and diamond rings are saved for a later date, to be delegated to some bumbling chap after 15 or so years, the nearest the women could get to were badges. Shiny, well polished badges that read "class pupil leader" and "first rank". "S" was upto it. I remember her telling in the class that she wanted to be a collector. She definitely did a good job collecting lots of such badges. Guys, Nah. We were busy eating kulfis and playing duster cricket. Who wants to wear a badge anyway ??

Middle school was worse. It was double trouble. "JF" and "JM" were so studious that the world really had to try hard and keep pace with them. Now this is the time of our lives when we start getting imaginative and write reams and reams of answers in the hope that the paper's weight atleast gets us through. Even if we had managed a tonne every exam, we wouldnt have had a crack at the top. Can't really blame the teacher. On one hand, they have "JF"s paper, written in blue ink with her hand-writing rivalling a russian ballet dancer, complete with margins drawn with pencil, sub-headings underlined in red and important points double-lined with pencil (am still with the periphery, havent started about the contents), and on the other hand we have mine, that looks more like rice noodles spilt on the ground and trampled over.

High school was even worse. Cant really blame "MS" and "GBLG" for coming out on top because high school happens to be the age when the teenager knows that life is not entirely about strawberry ice-cream and playing cricket. Well, ermm, thats enough for the blog, otherwise it would start sounding like a confessional. So, while the boys were busy getting surprises at each and every turn in life, the girls just rip-roared their way to the top. The girls got great marks, the boys got wiser. Fair deal.

Higher secondary was better. "P" was there, "L" was there, "V" was there, but more importantly questions about my future, if one was indeed present, were also there. Tried studying and was able to score higher than "V", study hard and was able to outscore "L", study harder but i was never able to outscore "P". (Well, what were you expecting ?? a fairy tale ending where i studied hard and beat everyone ?? Oh yeah, tough luck.)

And then it was college. For the first time in many of our lives, we saw guys getting the top rank. Not just in the first or the second semesters, but all through. In every paper, In every semester - It was guys. Finally, we did it. We broke the mantle that was believed to be girls'. We proved to the world that even guys can be class toppers. It was time to celebrate, after 17 full years of playing second fiddle. It was like splashing your face with cold water after a morning run. Pleasant, refreshing, new, rewarding. Amidst this euphoria, my conscience sneaks up from behind and taps me on the shoulder.
"But you studied in a boys' college, didnt you ??"
"........, Shut up".
Never stop your celebrations for such trivial details. Neva.

Thannanne Thaana Nanne

2005-08-15T12:56:00.000-07:00

Take Vadipatti, A rural hamlet down in the southern part of ThamizhNadu.

Take Vijayalakshmi Navaneethakrishnan, Pushapavanam Kuppuswami and Paravai Muniamma - Some reknowned and some not-so-reknowned artistes of folk music.

Take Blondie, your average foreigner. One who has only seen the Karagattams (an art where holding the attention of the audience is second in importance to holding a pot on top of your head), Mayilattams (a dance which is supposed to make a peacock die in shame at its own inadequacy of the art, but at times kills it in disgust) and Kaavadiaattams (Carry a protractor-like device, equipped with the feathers of some unlucky peacock and exhibit your gymnastic skills) on TV and Tape and considers following it to be a matter of superior taste.

Blondie, who has been in India for only four months, but still yaps about how he has become one among the general public with his faulty imitation of the local dialect.

Blondie, who enters this tiny village hamlet thinking he is going to see rural india in its true shine and glory.

Take some stereotypical vadipatti village folk wearing veshtis (dhotis), striped half-shorts which are held at the waist by a red string, soiled loin cloth and other exotic ways of exposing oneself.

Give the stereotypical villager his favorite brand of fag: beedi - malabar, five flowers or chokkalal. Brand is not a criterion, but the stink is.

Have the s.t. villager hold a dirty glass with light colored frothy liquid purporting as tea.

Give the auditorium that familar smell of cow dung. So thick that you could actually touch it.

And amongst all this, throw our armani-wearing Blondie, who does not know that apart from these popular dance styles mentioned above, you have other fire-brand varieties of Aadu-Puliattams (A cruel depiction of a tiger killing goats, made only more cruel by applying litres of varnish and paint on some unsuspecting human being) and the ever popular "Flower stamping Festival" (A euphemism for walking/running on a bed of fire).

Seriously, What chance do you think an alien would have in such intimidating circumstances, when a man dressed like a tiger growls some 2 feet in front of him, asking for money and when half-dressed middle-aged man wearing a frock is dancing with a pot on his head, with his makeup heavier than a roller used in the english summer ??

Before you take pity on poor blondie, replace Vij. N. Krishnan with "Mudvayne", P.K. Samy with "Rob Zombie" and Paravai M. Amma with "Black Label Society". Replace the "Folk Arts Festival" with "Ozzfest 2005". Replace the veshtis, loin cloth and pin-striped underpants with t-shirts that swear aloud, denims that are torn around the knees & sporting a different colored patch around the thighs and leather pants with steel buttons. Replace the beedi with Weed, retain that similar stink. Replace the frothy liquid in the glass with another frothy liquid made out of barley. Replace blondie with the author. That should more or less summarise my first experience in a metal festival in the US of A.

I do not know which was startling: Was it to be to stuck in between two giants at 6'5" screaming "yeah baby yeah" or being few feet from a guy who has "White Pride" tattoed on his back ?? I think both of them were. Living in the bay area can give you a false sense of security that you are living in mylapore, because at times, the ratio of Indians to Americans can be alarmingly similar. The shoreline amphitheatre in Mountain View offered a different perspective. Turn around, look over, look under and Indians seem to be as far away from sight as India itself.

I had just entered the auditorium and "Mastodon" had left the stage. The prospect of not having seen Mastodon before getting killed in the arena was mildly disheartening. As I was pondering the list of things I could do in the last few hours of my life, Iron Maiden took to the stage. For the next 70 minutes, it felt like varnasi and the bodhi tree, only with Eddie hiding behind the leaves, with his evil smirk.

The amount of energy that maiden exude on the stage is quite unrivalled. In a metal-fest, with some 12 other bands playing on the same day, with only sixty minutes stage time and only a second billing to black sabbath, if they could manage so much creativity and music, i cant wait to watch a maiden show live. Scream. Shout. Show the sign. Head bang. Sing Along. Growl. And just when you think it cant get better, dickenson moved on to arguably one of maiden's best number lyrically and rhythmically - Hallowed be thy name. Steve, Bruce, Janick, Adrian, Dave and Nicko - Sirs, Indeed, I was hallowed :-).

Before the elated feeling of having seen maiden could wear of, there was someone else on stage. Ward, Butler, Ozzy and The master himself, Tony Iommi. 70 minutes. Sheer godsent music. What Ozzy missed with his voice, Ward, Butler and Iommi made with their instruments. As the time draws to a close, as everyone is waiting for the big ones, they come with a bang. A double whammy with "Paranoid" followed by "Children of The Grave". Again, scream, shout, only this time rip open your vocal chords to shreds.

As the concert gets over and the fear of getting out uncrushed and unscathed emerges , i think about my unwritten will which would pass my unearned riches to my unborn heirs, Bump, I ran into a 6'5"-er again. Yes, I can see him, and i can see his friends, all seemed to have come out fresh from the foundry. As i calculate my chances against a group of American Football player-likes, he says "Excuse me" in the politest tone imagineable like a padre and walks past. Talk about stereotyping people.