Dabbler

Two movies - two lines

2008-08-07T11:24:00.000-07:00

Dasavatharam - Not as bad as the critics pan it, definitely not as good as the fans portray it. A yawn inducing chase movie made to satisfy the ego of the writer / actor.

Subramaniapuram - Definitely up there in my list of great tamil movies. A neat review by Baradwaj Rangan, a review in tamil by Suresh Kannan.

Lot's Wife - Anna Akhmatova / Richard Wilbur

2008-07-22T04:34:00.000-07:00

While reading the collected poems of Richard Wilbur, I came across his translation of Anna Akhmatova's Russian poem Lot's Wife. I didn't know this biblical story before, but found this poem very powerful. The Tamil translation is mine.

Photo from Wikipedia page on Lot.

அந்த நியாயவான் தன் இறைதூதரைத் தொடர்ந்து
உறுதியோடு நடை போட்டான்.
அவன் மனைவியின் உள்ளமோ சோகத்தில் குமுறியது
“இன்னும் நேரமிருக்கிறது ஒரு கடைசிப் பார்வைக்கு. திரும்பிப் பார்

உன் சொந்த ஊரான சோதோம் மாநகரின் மாளிகைகளை,
நீ சந்தோஷமாய் பாடித்திரிந்த அதன் சதுக்கங்களை,
நீ நினைத்து நினைத்து அழப் போகும் அதன் பூங்காக்களை,
உன் கணவனுடன் குலாவி குழந்தைகள் பெற்றெடுத்த அந்த மாடி வீட்டை”

அவள் துக்கத்துடன் திரும்பிப் பார்த்தாள்.
அந்த கடைசிக் காட்சியோடு அவள் கண்கள் உறைந்தன.
துள்ளியோடிய கால்கள் ஆனியடித்தாற் போல் நிலைத்தன.
தொட்டால் உதிர்ந்திடும் உப்புச் சிலையானாள் அவள்.

அவளுக்காக கண்ணீர் சிந்துவது யார்? கடவுள் சொல்
கேளா அந்தப் பேதையைப் பற்றி யாருக்கு என்ன கவலை?
ஆனால் என்றும் மறக்க முடியாது என்னால்
ஒரு பார்வைக்காக உயிரைத் துறாந்த அவளை.

The just man followed then his angel guide
Where he strode on the black highway, hulking and bright;
But a wild grief in his wife's bosom cried,
Look back, it is not too late for a last sight!

Of the red towers of your native Sodom, the square
Where once you sang, the gardens you shall mourn,
And the tall house with empty windows where
You loved your husband and your babes were born.

She turned, and looking on the bitter view
Her eyes were welded shut by mortal pain;
Into transparent salt her body grew,
And her quick feet were rooted in the plain.

Who would waste tears upon her? Is she not
The least of our losses, this unhappy wife?
Yet in my heart she will not be forgot
Who, for a single glance, gave up her life.

You can find the story of Lot here.

Rajni was an actor once upon a time

2008-07-18T00:39:00.000-07:00

I saw a hoarding in Tuticorin inviting all Rajni fans for a discussion on how to celebrate(?) the release of his latest movie Kuselan. It is this kind of fan base that builds the myth of Rajni and which in turn attracts more fans. A self perpetuating cylce that killed an actor and built a star.

Just watch these two scenes from Mullum Malarum.

Reminds you of Paruthiveeran sequence, doesn't it.

Added bonus in this scene is Ilayaraja's great background score.

Callousness

2008-07-17T08:41:00.000-07:00

Tribals are becoming more aware of their rights. This could result in significant increase in start up costs.

From a research report of one of India's leading brokerages about Coal industry in India. It isn't without reason that the naxal menace in India is largely concentrated on mineral rich states of Andhra, Orissa, Bihar and Jharkand.

Nitpicking

2008-07-15T02:07:00.000-07:00

Due to a change of residence in Tuticorin, I haven't been receiving The Hindu for the past one month. It is a blessing in disguise I should say. To compensate for that I saw these two bloopers that I have to blog about.

Business India magazine had a section on SME Financing (the edition with GVK Reddy on the cover - there is no online link). The first line read - When ICICI, IDBI and SIDBI were formed in the 90's... Only problem is that ICICI was formed in 1955 and IDBI in 1964. This blooper in a general magazine might be tolerated, but in a Business Magazine?

The next one that riled me up was in the tamil weekly Ananda Vikatan. In a tribute to Sam Manekshaw, the article mentions that Manekshaw was the first person to be made Field Marshal of the Indian Army and later this honor was given to a person called Kariappa. This is the leading magazine of Tamil Nadu.

A trip to Manjolai and Upper Kothaiar

2008-07-07T00:25:00.000-07:00

Some photos from my weekend trip to Manjolai Tea Estate and Upper Kothaiar in Tirunelveli District.

To go up the hills beyond Manimutharu falls, you have to take the permission of The Forest officer in Ambasamudiram as the entire area is designated as a reserve forest. To view Upper Kothaiar, a permission from Tamil Nadu Electricity Board officials will be helpful.

This being a reserved forest area, not many hotels are there. In Manjolai, there is a small shop on the main road called Kannan kadai, where you have to inform him in advance for breakfast or lunch. When goin up, there is a place called Naalu Mukku, where there is a Malayalee restaurant run by Raju chettan. He will cook you excellent veg and non veg meals, if informed in advance. Prices are cheap, a meal costs about Rs. 30-40.00.

The ideal place to stay is the Forest department guest house in Kudiraivetti, which we couldn't get since some Judge had booked it in advance. It is supposed to be a great location to view the elephant herds, bears and wild boars roaming around. We spotted a wild male Sambar deer ( Mila as the locals call it in Tamil) on the way to Kudirai vetti.

The next ideal place is the TNEB quarters in Kothaiar, which also we didn't get since the Chairman of TNEB was visiting. We stayed at a Police quarters in Manjolai estate, due to a friend of a friend who is in the police department.

The Golden Gate - Vikram Seth

2008-07-01T08:29:00.000-07:00

The Golden Gate by Vikram Seth is the most funny, irreverent book I have read in recent days.

I though that a novel completely written in tetrameter sonnets -690 of them- must be difficult to read and never really thought about picking up the book. When I was gifted (I assume not lent) the book I started it with some apprehension. Initially I read each sonnet and marvelled at the brilliance of Seth in rhyming so many words and yet carrying the story forward. Slowly I was engrossed in the story and forgot that it was written in verse. That is the success of Seth as a poet and novelist.

The story is about a group of yuppies in California and their affairs. It was as far as it can be from the world I live in, yet Seth succeeded in keeping me interested till the end. The book is full of fun and wit. The line that hooked me was

Their music was a throttled yelp-
Morse crossed with a pig's squeal for help.

After laughing out loud, I was a convert. I especially liked the interludes where he breaks the narrative and talks directly to the reader. A must read book, if only to marvel at Vikram Seth's skill.

Meeting Lalita

2008-06-15T04:00:00.000-07:00

The shock in my face must have been apparent. She smiled wistfully and welcomed me, while I struggled for proper words. She had informed me that she had lost weight rapidly, still I wasn't prepared for this. The only time I had met her earlier was when she came down to Chennai a year and a half back. The change in her appearance was drastic, to say the least.

She put me at ease with her charming smile and took me in.

"I hope you don't mind if I park myself in the bedroom, since it is difficult for me to move about now a days" she said.
"How is the pain?", I asked stupidly.
"Oh it is always there, only the intensity varies from day to day. On days it is bad, it is really bad. Today seems to be better" she answered nonchalantly, almost as if we were discussing the weather.

Then the conversation steered to blogging and we were on safer ground. Her husband joined us and she proudly informed me that he is now a contributor to a music blog on classical Hindustani music. I nodded my head wisely and kept discussing about poetry and blogging and general stuff. She left us alone for a moment, and I turned to him and said, "Sorry Mr. K, hope we aren't boring you with our discussion. I know zilch of any music, leave alone Hindustani music". He smiled gently and said "That's ok. We don't discuss music all the time between us".

The conversation steered off to Madras, and both of them were shocked to know that Woodlands Drive Inn was closed down. "This is unfair, they are closing down all the places that were on our dating list. First Buharis, now Woodlands" she said sadly. K was hearing us out patiently interfering only to correct us now and then. "I think you meant superficial when you said superfluous, Lali" or "I think it was PL 480, not PL 64" when I was talking about wheat imports from US in the 1960s.

She had earlier mentioned that she was on liquid diet since the cancer made it impossible for her to swallow. So, true to form I had taken her half a bottle of Cognac ("Only you can think and do such things" chided my wife). As the evening grew older, Whiskey and Cognac added to the pleasant feeling of a great conversation. She has strong opinions about the quality of writing in blogs, but keeps them to herself. If only she wrote those opinions, we would have blog fights all over the place.

The next day, the maid and the watchman smiled at the familiar face and let me in without questions. We discussed about the progress of her disease, the various treatments she is taking (Along with allopathic medicines , she tried tibetan medicine and couldn't stand the vile black globules, she is now on homeopathy, which seems to be working in alleviating the pain). She was as sharp as ever, playing word games. "My oncologist was referred by my surgeon. The surgeon told me that he had sent many of his patients to this oncologist and they were happy with him. Were is the key word here, Chenthil".

Then we discussed about poetry, classification of poetry in telugu literature (grapes, banana and coconut, in the order of complexity), which modern Indian English poet she thinks is the best (Vikram Seth's Golden Gate), her distaste of cadence less non metered poetry, her appreciation of Ulysses and Finnegan's Wake. Her cheeriness almost made me forget that she might be dying till my eyes wandered down to the stump where her toe was.

In one of our email conversations she had praised a young painter friend of hers and went on and on about his painting. She showed me his painting that was displayed prominently in her drawing room. I looked at it, and looked at it. And after a minute said in a small voice, "Honestly Lalita, I can't make out what it means. All I see are bold color strokes in random". Her house made me feel like a philistine - huge library, one book shelf full of mathematics and topology (his), one rack of Cricket books (again his), two shelves of telugu literature (hers), Will Durant and Bertrand Russel (his), all of Shakespeare (theirs).

I sort of gained K's appreciation when I could answer his favorite cricket quiz question - Persons of how many religions have captained Indian cricket team so far. He was pleased when I knew Vijay Hazare was a christian and knew his middle name too - Vijay Samuel Hazare. "You are a real student of cricketing history" he murmured and for some reason I was pleased a lot at this faint praise. We both agreed that though Nirad Chaudhuri's ideas were crazy he was a great writer.

By now it was time for me to leave. I bid good bye to him and she came to see me off. At the doorstep, my composure cracked. I held her hands and said, "I hope that this is not the final farewell, Missus Em. Hope to see you again". She noticed my misty eyes, and hugged me. "Come on, once they fix a stent in my throat and I can take solid food, I will come down to Chennai. We shall have a Masala Dosa in Saravana Bhavan, now that Woodlands Drive In is closed".

Do try to keep your word Missus Em. Don't leave us yet.

Blogmeet

2008-06-09T09:40:00.000-07:00

Attended a blog meet on Saturday, at Chennai Citi Center. It was mostly Tamil bloggers, there to meet Dubukku, the Art Buchwald of Tamil blogs. It was also a chance to meet Boston Bala, Prakash and others. It was a pleasant surprise to hear Bala lavishing praise about my blog. Thanks Bala, even if you really meant it as an ice breaker.

Chenthil goes to Coonoor

2008-05-27T09:42:00.000-07:00

Taj Garden Retreat, Coonoor

Droog, which has the remnants of a fort built by Tipu Sultan overlooking the plains. (I lacked the stamina to go on that trek).

Murathal puliyai virattiya veera Tamizh Pen

A stream on the Kotagiri Mettupalayam Road

Web 2.0

2008-05-10T08:37:00.000-07:00

For long I didn't understand Web 2.0. Then I read Kiruba's article in Business Standard. I am convinced now that Web 2.0 is pure alchemy. You create data from non existent sources.

With Web 2.0 type sites, it is possible to combine data from various sources, even sources that you don't own control or even exist, and turn that into data that people can use.

I am enlightened.

Is this true?

2008-05-07T06:12:00.000-07:00

Found this comment at presstalk.blogspot.com

things are likely to happen in the People's Daily of Chennai. don't be surprised if there is a reshuffle at the very top in the coming weeks, if not days, with the possibility of the card holding `lal salaam' big boss retiring on health grounds.

Journalist readers of this blog, please confirm.

நம்பிக்கை

2008-04-21T05:35:00.000-07:00

An old poem that I wrote three years back.

கல்லாய் இருக்கும் சாமியின் மீதும்
சொல்லாய் இருக்கும் நாத்திகத்தின் மீதும்
இல்லாத விதியின் மீதும்
இல்லை என் நம்பிக்கை

மண்ணில் தெரியுது வானம்
அது நம் வசப்படல் ஆகாதோ
என்ற பாரதியின் வார்த்தை
என் நம்பிக்கை

சுக்லாம் பரதம் விஷ்ணும்

2008-04-21T04:39:00.000-07:00

சுக்லாம் பரதம் விஷ்ணும்
மந்திரத்திற்கு அர்த்தம்
எனக்குப் புரியவில்லை.
அசிரத்தையாக அர்ச்சிக்கும்
இந்த கருத்த முரட்டுப் பூசாரிக்கும்
புரியுமா என்பது சந்தேகம் தான்.
ஆனால் நிச்சயம்
அகன்ற விழிகளுடன்
ஆங்காரமாய் நாக்கை
துருத்திக்கொண்டு அர்ச்சனையை
வாங்கிக் கொள்ளும்
காடேரி அம்மனுக்குப்
புரிந்திருக்காது.

Enna kodumai saar idhu

2008-04-18T04:46:00.000-07:00

New face Premji Ameran does justice to his role, showing a flair for comedy

From The Hindu's review of the movie Thozha. Premji Ameran was a smash hit as a comdeian in last year's movie Chennai 600028. The online version has been corrected now. Mr. Ram, you have increased the salaries of your employees in vain.

Samples of modern Tamil Poetry

2008-04-08T12:20:00.000-07:00

Found this issue of Museindia through Gilli. A treasure trove of modern Tamil Poetry, translated into English by poets.

Uma Maheswari translated by Pooranie Gopi
Dosa
Diameter of dosas
Remain changeless for years and years.
Their circle never crossed the edge.
Even when poured on a heavy metal
They never lose their softness.
Empty swirls
sans turns and expansions.
Their selflessness can mingle with anything.
Without the awareness of loss
cook by boiling inside the lid.
Even when boiling inside
smile on top.
While folding and turning
they tell nothing except a tired murmur.
Modern schematizations haven’t
moved them toward true freedom.
Haven’t grown in years
remain unchanged in shape.
Live without living.
Mother’s

Grandmother’s
Grandmother’s mother’s
dosas are still the same -
for years and years Including mine.

Azhagiya Periyavan translated by Meena Kandasamy

The word for you and me

Like hunting an animal,
I wait
To catch that word
With my lasso.

As concrete as the wind
And as fraudulent as god
That word wanders
Without getting caught by me.

In front of everybody
I will place you on my lap
And like plucking your lungs
From your chest
I wish to pluck
That word.

That word
Which turns my bones
Runs as your poisonous blood.

Just one word!
It is your boon, it is our curse.
It is the mantra
That puts the sacred thread on your chest
It is the abuse
That makes me an outcast.

I might lose
But someday
My children
Will catch that word
By its horn
And cut its throat.

Being a non believer sucks

2008-04-08T11:37:00.000-07:00

When a personal crisis happens, a believer has someone / something to hear his prayers. Being a non believer sucks in such situations. Especially when you try to convert yourself into a believer and fail at it.

Aathmaanaam

2008-03-26T07:16:00.000-07:00

Vision
======

I met God
Did not feel like
asking him anything.
He too smiled
and went away.
Yet I felt peace.

கடவுளைக் கண்டேன்
எதையும் கேட்கவே தோன்றவில்லை.
அவரும் புன்னகைத்துப்
போய் விட்டார்.
ஆனாலும்
மனதிலே ஒரு நிம்மதி.

World War
=========

On the roof
a crow and squirrel fought.
The squirrel chased, crow flew.
The crow flew, squirrel jumped.
Finally
the squirrel flew
the crow ran.
Nothing happened to nobody.

ஒரு கூரை மேல்
காக்கைக்கும் அணிலுக்கும் சண்டை
அணில் துரத்த காக்கை பறந்தது
காக்கை பறக்க அணில் தாவியது
முடிவில்
அணில் பறந்தது
காக்கை ஓடியது
ஒன்றுக்கும் ஒன்றும் ஆகவில்லை

Just be
=======

Tell me your friends
I will tell who you are
a wise man told.
I replied
Tell me who you are
I will tell who your friends are.
His shocked eyes widened like saucers.
Does it matter
Who you are
Who I am
Unnecessary questions
Unnecessary answers
Without proving anything
Just be.

உங்கள் நண்பர்களைச் சொல்லுங்கள்
நீங்கள் யாரென்று சொல்லுகிறேன்
என்றார் ஒரு பேரறிஞர்
நான் சொன்னேன்
நீங்கள் யாரென்று சொல்லுங்கள்
உங்கள் நண்பர்களைச் சொல்லுகிறேன்
முழித்த முழி முழியையே முழுங்கும்போல
நீங்கள் யாரானால் என்ன
நான் யாரானால் என்ன
அனாவசியக் கேள்விகள்
அனாவசிய பதில்கள்
எதையும் நிரூபிக்காமல்
சற்று சும்மா இருங்கள்

Athmanaam is one of the well known tamil poets of 1970s literature movement. I have read bits and pieces of his poems on the net, yet to get hold of a collection of his poems. Almost everyone from Asokamithran to Sujatha praised his poetry. Part of his mystic allure is the fact that he committed suicide when he was just 34.

The Marxist re affirms his credentials

2008-03-25T20:22:00.000-07:00

The time has come for India to use the leverage that comes with hosting the Dalai Lama and his followers since 1959 to persuade or pressure him to get real about the future of Tibet

Read Mr. Ram's editorial in The Hindu. The Chinese couldn't have written a better propaganda piece. And to think that this man was making such a hue and cry about Freedom of Speech when his paper was under attack. Life is good.

Truck No. 5

2008-03-16T22:44:00.000-07:00

Tiruchendur Sea on a cold rainy morning.

The Child Wonders

2008-03-11T20:59:00.000-07:00

The child looks with wonder
at the painting of the burning flame.
His fingers tingle with excitement.
His fingers are itching
to touch the bright flame.
He carefully reaches out to touch
then hesitantly pulls back
and looks at his mother.

He doesn't understand
how the flame burns
without destroying the painting.
He doesn't understand
how the flame came to life
without burning the painter's fingers.
How did it learn
to stand gracefully,
to burn without destroying.
The wonder tingles
the child's fingers.

Advice to US Treasury Secretary

2008-03-05T02:04:00.000-08:00

Follow our Finance Minister. Waive of all the sub prime loans and issue 100 year bonds to those who hold the mortgages. Every one will be happy and you might even win the election for the Republicans.

The Fed chairman seems to agree with me.

What was Sujatha to many of his readers?

2008-03-03T04:45:00.000-08:00

He stood for freshness. He kept reinventing his choice of words. His narrative style was always breezy.

When many writers of his generation were trying to dazzle us with their prose, his style was almost conversational. He cut down needless sentiments like குபுக்கென்று அழுதான் (the exact words used by Ra. Ki. Rangarajan in yesterday's meeting).

He constantly engaged the reader - pointing out a new poet, latest developments in technology, a rare bengali movie, explaining classical tamil literature. His interests became the interests of his readers there by expanding their horizons.

He was an idol to many a young person. Anybody who could turn a phrase liked to think of himself as a writer. But our social set up doesn't allow some one to try and be a full time writer. Hence the would be writer decides to have a day job and write in his spare time (which invariably is not spare). He wishes to succeed in his day job as well as writing. And the towering example of such a succesful multi faceted personality was Sujatha.

He was a writer who knew his limitations and worked within it.

Every reader of his felt that Sujatha was talking to him and only to him. That kind of empathy with the readers is very rare to find.

If one phrase could define him it would be mass influencer. He was given a platform by the main stream tamil media for almost 40 years, and he used it judiciously. The crowded auditorium full of his fans on a Sunday afternoon was proof of the impact he had on Tamilnadu.

I was there for the first one hour of his condolence meeting. I accept that you should not talk ill of the dead. But that doesn't mean you have to be so cloying to the point of making the audience wonder what would Sujatha have thought about his condolence meeting. Calling him the greatest modern prose writer in Tamil after Bharathi was stretching the limit too far. The man himself probably would have said "இப்படியெல்லாம் பேசுவார்கள் என்று முன்னமே தெரிந்திருந்தால் நான் செத்திருக்க மாட்டேன்”.

R.I.P Mr. Sujatha

2008-02-27T21:50:00.000-08:00

In the last few years I fell out with his writings. Especially after reading blogs and learning that he just grazes the tip of everything he touches with no depth. That however doesn't take away anything from what he was to me when I was young and living in small towns of Tamilnadu. Freshness of writing, uptodate with latest developments, dark humour, frankness of opinion - he was all that and more.

R.I.P Mr. Sujatha.

Update: You can read his Tamil short story Nagaram here. This is considered to be one of his best efforts, a view which I fully agree with.

Footnote Humour

2008-02-26T06:23:00.000-08:00

Did not Harischandra[2] lose his throne, wife, child, because he would speak nothing less than the absolute Truth whatever happened?
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
2. Harischandra (1850-1885), an Indian poet, critic and journalist

This gem of a footnote was found in a RK Narayan short story part of an anthology of short stories. The book contains great short stories by authors as varied as Joseph Conrad and John Updike, all organized by the elements of fiction - theme, setting, character and so on. However I will remember the book and its editors more for the above footnote.