Expressions

2009-07-12T17:12:00.004Z

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

Sooner than later.

I hope.

Till then. Bye.

26

2009-05-26T18:32:00.003Z

Its the 26th and its my 26th

Ombattu Gudde Trek

2009-04-14T10:37:00.006Z

Be a REBEL! - En route Nagalapuram

2009-03-10T18:56:00.004Z

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

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

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

Naan Kadavul

2009-02-07T14:05:00.016Z

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chennai Tweetup @ Broken Bridge

2009-01-04T15:36:00.006Z

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

Here are a few pics...

King Ashoka and the Carrot Halwa

2009-01-03T10:49:00.005Z

I had this recurring dream.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I went to the kitchen and made carrot halwa.

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

And now I am wary of sleeping in the nights.

Aham brahmasmi

2009-01-01T17:36:00.009Z

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

Now it has to wait till tomorrow.

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

Jai Bolenath!

Watch the stunning trailer

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

Tada Falls - Dec 25th 2008

2008-12-27T18:07:00.018Z

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

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

Link to Flickr Webpage (Contains Commentary!)

The legend does it, yet again

2008-12-15T16:05:00.004Z

With the passage of years...

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

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

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

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

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

But still...

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

We love you Sachin.

Image courtesy: Cricinfo

My Dear Munnu, your book is with me

2008-12-13T09:05:00.012Z

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

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

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

Text on the inside page

Bombay

My dear Munnu!

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

The best of luck to you.

Affectionately yours

Prempralime

1.2.70"

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

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

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

Parkour

2008-12-07T02:21:00.002Z

David Belle - Founder of Parkour

Clubbed to Death + Parkour = Deadly

What is the What

2008-12-01T17:34:00.008Z

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dave Eggers with Valentino Achak Deng

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dhanuskodi - Roof top ride

2008-11-11T03:21:00.002Z

Michael Crichton - 1942-2008

2008-11-06T16:04:00.007Z

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rest in Peace.

Aati Kya Khandala?

2008-11-06T14:49:00.007Z

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

but let truth be told.

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

:)

Why not?

2008-11-02T16:23:00.010Z

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just wondering. Why not?

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

:-D :-D :-D

2008-10-23T16:59:00.008Z

Hu Hu Hu Hu HOOO...!!!

No.5 takes the cake!

Fear Factor

2008-10-21T17:01:00.008Z

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

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

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

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

...it happens often?

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

...in spite of the bribes?

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

...oh..the motive?

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

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

...minimum of 10...

..thousands?

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

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

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

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

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

...ok..see you...

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

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

T Nagaril Oru Mazhaikaalam...

2008-10-19T15:29:00.003Z

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To be continued…

Thozhiya...

2008-10-12T04:49:00.036Z

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

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

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

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

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

You ask me to sleep on your lap

And you slump on my shoulders for support

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

Oh My Girl…

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

I melt here like a stick of wax

Oh poetry of mine, will you ever love me?

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

I die a thousand deaths in my sleep

Oh my dear!

What’s your answer for me?

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

…Super Rap in English, so no translation….

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

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

By giving me happiness you ensured my tears were evaporated

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

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

Oh my pristine angel color my life and stand by me

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You ask me to sleep on your lap

And you slump on my shoulders for support

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

Oh My Girl…

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

I melt here like a stick of wax

Oh poetry of mine, will you ever love me?

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

I die a thousand deaths in my sleep

Oh my dear!

What’s your answer for me?

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

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

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

Special Thanks: Tamil Lyrics

My Mini Library...

2008-10-06T15:09:00.006Z

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

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

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

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

2008-10-02T14:52:00.016Z

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Okay, dinner ready. Seeya.

Calvin Cute...

2008-09-30T17:00:00.013Z

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

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

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

BILL WATERSON is a genius. Period.

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

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

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

So who is your favorite cartoon character?

Books and Beans...

2008-09-29T17:06:00.007Z

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

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

Books and Bean bags. Made for each other.

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

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