Cauliflower Manchurian

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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.

Read on ... (at your own peril, obviously) ...

Terra Farming

"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.

Read on ... (at your own peril, obviously) ...

This Just In

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 ??

Read on ... (at your own peril, obviously) ...

Lightning Strikes Twice

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 ??

Read on ... (at your own peril, obviously) ...

English Tuitions

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.

Read on ... (at your own peril, obviously) ...

Home, Home Again

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".

Read on ... (at your own peril, obviously) ...

Heed The Omen

"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.

Read on ... (at your own peril, obviously) ...

(Aradha)Pazhaya Pettai - Archaic Dominion

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.

Read on ... (at your own peril, obviously) ...

No More Anagrams

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.

Read on ... (at your own peril, obviously) ...

Good Samaritan

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

Read on ... (at your own peril, obviously) ...

WMD

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 ??"

Read on ... (at your own peril, obviously) ...

X-Rated

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.

Read on ... (at your own peril, obviously) ...

Temptations and Damnations

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."

Read on ... (at your own peril, obviously) ...

Brave New World

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.

Read on ... (at your own peril, obviously) ...

Shiny

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.

Read on ... (at your own peril, obviously) ...

Full Circle

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.

Read on ... (at your own peril, obviously) ...

Raa Raa Raa Ramaiah

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.

Read on ... (at your own peril, obviously) ...

Never Cross A Woman

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.

Read on ... (at your own peril, obviously) ...

The Hand That Rocks The Cradle

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.

Read on ... (at your own peril, obviously) ...

Around The Coast in 8 Days

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.

Read on ... (at your own peril, obviously) ...