Veppam review

Give Mahinda Rajapakshe a camera and tell him to make a documentary on world peace, let Ranbir Kapoor make a movie on manliness, ask Ilayathalapathy Vijay to make a video on the art of acting or challenge A Raja to make a film on the evils of corruption. If any of the four quoted instances happen anytime in the future, you may react the way you are likely to react after seeing Veppam.

You’d normally expect a director, especially a female, who has graduated from the Gautam Menon School of cinema, to make a stylish romantic flick complete with an overdose of English dialogues. But maybe Anjana Ali Khan wanted us to appreciate her daredevilry. Maybe she wanted us to acknowledge the fact that she has the potential to break stereotypes and to explore new domains seldom associated with female directors. Unfortunately for her, she has got her most important calculation wrong: had she apprenticed under the likes of Selvaraghavan or RGV, who have made films with similar characters that are scarily close to ones that we may get to witness in real life, Veppam could have been a noteworthy product. A question mark looms large over that possibility too, because the storyline is as stale as my canteen food and the “twist” in the movie is a disgrace to the word itself. A 5 year old kid who was sitting beside me in the theatre was narrating the overtly obvious second half to his dad who was listening with rapt attention! A forecast of things to come by a 5 year old is not such a crime in a Romantic flick, but for a whodunit script that wants to call itself a suspense thriller, it’s an offence that warrants capital punishment.

Veppam could have been the “Ok, watchable” kinda movie in spite of its hollow storyline if only a little more attention had been paid to the screenplay, the narrative. All characters in the movie are uncivilized people who hail from North Madras possibly, where education is as abundant as common sense among Justin Bieber fans. Ten minutes into the movie, it’s exceedingly apparent that the characters have been sketched by a Peter(Madras Basha word for an upper middle class person who finds it difficult to communicate in Tamil due to his/her familiarity with English) or by a person who has been trained or taught to think like one. So every time one of those Basin bridge characters speaks in Madras Basha, you find it hilarious because you can’t help thinking that they have been written in English and then translated. Veppam has one of the most ridiculous set of dialogues I have come across in the recent past.  Horrible!

To Veppam’s credit, it has a good looking protagonist (Nani) and an apt second fiddle (Nani’s elder bro in the movie) who have come up with good performances. Karthik and Nithya Menen are seen in extended guest roles as usual. It’s commendable on Karthik’s part to have accepted this kind of a role with so little scope, possibly to shed his “American Mappilai” tag but I think it’s going to take more of such efforts to convince us that he can be something else on screen.  Veppam has extraordinary music but unfortunately, it’s a misfit again. If the songs from Pudhupettai had been replaced by the ones in Vinnaithaandi Varuvaaya, this is what it’d have looked like. The instruments used in the songs are the sophisticated ones, the ones that tales of romance yearn for; this kind of a movie calls for a few raw tunes with the spirit of the setting intact: we get the opposite.

But the most hilarious aspect of Veppam is the “ammaji” character. Outrageous casting. The character’s looks, her body language and the outfits that she sports in the movie guarantee her a place in one of those BRU ads where the maami says after a brief coy grin “ithu BRU naa”!

I am not daring enough to conclude that a GVM assistant or any Peter for that matter can’t make a good movie on people involved in shady deals in the dark streets of north Chennai. After all, Vishnu Vardhan surprised me with the chic Pattiyal, one of the best gangster movies I have come across in Tamil. It’s just that a GVM assistant is more likely to be coronated with the crown of success when she attempts a stylish romantic flick or a glossy cop movie where the focus is on characters that speak English most of the time. Anjana may go on to become a good director; this is her first attempt after all. But I presume that she’d boost her chances a tad more if she attempts a genre that she is familiar with. She’s just got to get her heart and mind together. Right now, they are miles apart!

Ruminations of a fast bowler

Today(18-7) is Dennis Lillee’s birthday. Dennis Lillee, as avid cricket fans all over the world know, is the one of the deadliest fast bowlers to have seen the face of the earth. Dennis Lillee had everything going for him, his physique especially: a fast bowler’s dream! Tall, muscular, broad shoulders, a beautiful run up and a power-packed delivery stride. He looked like a monster in motion every time he ran in to bowl those formidable bouncers. Who can forget that little encounter against Thala Viv Richards, when he bowled four bouncers on the trot (there weren’t any restrictions on the number of bouncers you could bowl in an over those days) and followed it up with an absolute peach of a delivery that clipped the top of off stump? The best part about the encounter was that Thala Viv was not afraid to play that famous hook shot of his, even though Lillee was at his intimidating best! Thala Viv wasn’t even wearing a helmet, mind you!

I personally admire Lillee for his never-say-die attitude though my knowledge and visual memory of his famous conquests owe their birth and existence to YouTube and classics telecasted on Star Cricket. I also admire him for his sense of style. His moustache and those long locks he used to sport (before they had to give way to the vagaries of ageing viz. balding) Lillee quite fittingly played during the golden era of fast bowling. His stint at the international arena, characterized by grace, speed and power played alongside the very famous and the furiously fast West Indian brigade of Malcolm Marshall, Michael Holding, Joel Garner and Andy Roberts.  Not to forget the indomitable Imran Khan, though he wasn’t the fastest in business.

 The West Indian legends and Lillee gave way to the next generation of street smart quickies who were not all about pace and power. They had their core competencies in tact and also knew the art of standing up to a new generation of batsmen who were armed with helmets, high quality protection gear and brilliant bats. Shorter boundaries, fielding restrictions, restrictions on a supposedly “negative” line, restrictions on the number of bouncers that could be bowled in an over etc. placed serious limitations on the options available at the bowlers’ disposal. With the fielding restrictions in place, a delicate touch down to third man was all that was necessary to increment the score by four runs. These batsmen, on the other hand, weren’t afraid to shuffle across the line and play the leg glance or flick the ball through square leg or mid-wicket in spite of running a high risk of getting out LBW. Barriers were broken; 250 wasn’t considered a safe target anymore.

The changes in the game, mostly due to the Kerry Packer revolution definitely gave the batsmen an upper hand. It presented the bowlers with a heap of challenges. The new crop of quickies did live up to the challenges. Three fast bowlers from that era stood out. White lightning, Allan Donald, Wasim Akram, the Sultan of swing and the gentle giant, Curtly Ambrose. These three were distinct in their own way but then they carried forward the rich legacy of troubling batsmen with serious pace. They were the legal heirs of the tradition of bouncing batsmen out. Then, there were Glenn Mcgrath and Shaun Pollock, authorities of accuracy. They started the tradition of effective medium pace combined with deadly accuracy. Flashes of brilliance were on offer from the likes of Waqar Younis, famous for his toe-crushers and Courtney Walsh. This, according to me, was the last generation of pure and genuine breed of fast bowlers.

After that, we’ve had Brett Lee, Shoaib Akthar, Shane Bond, Lasith Malinga, Dale Steyn etc. but the fatal and the ferocious bouncers that were delivered with the sole aim of crashing into the human skull, toe crushers that yearned for blood and were intended to break the heels are now missing. The fire, the passion and the power that one usually associates with fast bowling is long gone. Yes Malinga knocks a slightly distracted batsman off his feet in a jiffy, but how enchanting a sight is it? The way he does it, his action, well, I’m unimpressed. You have to be a fan of the 90s brand of cricket, those low scoring encounters, the epic chases in Sharjah to see what I mean. Yes, Dale Steyn and Brett Lee bowl those leapers that brush the batsman’s chest on the way to the keeper but then it’s no where close to the ones that Allan Donald used to bowl. Where are the bodyline-type fast bowlers, the bloodthirsty ones who licked their lips on the way back to their mark, the vampires who considered the sight of blood dripping down a batsman’s forehead to be unmatched and the greatest in the world?

Look at what we have come down to, in terms of swing bowling! We have been relegated to such a level wherein we are forced to refer to Jimmy Anderson and Simon Jones as the modern day exponents of conventional and reverse swing respectively. What a disgrace, what a fall from the good old days of Wasim Akram and Imran Khan!?! The fact that Munaf Patel features in a playing eleven as a fast bowler is itself an ignominious retreat for the art of fast bowling! The cricketing world needs to reconsider bringing back a few rules:  lifting the restriction on the number of bouncers that could be bowled in an over in tests will definitely be a step in the positive direction. The BCCI may object, considering the inability of their batsmen to counter short pitched stuff, but then cricket needs to move forward and an endangered art needs to be rescued and restored to its past glory. The wide rule could be revised. Coaches need to turn back a few pages and revisit the history books of cricket to re-discover and implement the fitness mantras of the legends. The scheduling of matches needs to be looked into; over-kill of cricket is a problem that’s been discussed quite widely in the cricketing circles without productive results.

No one wants to see Tilakaratne Dilshan open the bowling for Sri Lanka in a world cup quarter final ever again. Take us back to the good old times. POWER, PACE AND PASSION, PLEASE!

DEIVA THIRUMAGAL: REVIEW

When Vijay of Madrasapattinam fame set out to make Deiva Thirumagal, I, for one, wasn’t too excited. Vijay could go on to become a film-maker of repute in the future,  but ever since he released the first feelers of this film he’s been busy telling people that “I am not Sam, I’m director Vijay; I have an identity of my own.”

I still remember watching the trailer for the first time during the interval of KO in a theatre. I could hear comments like “Dai over ah nadikaatha da”, “Kudutha kaasuku konjam jaasthiyaave nadikaraaney” from behind. They were basically echoing my feelings on the issue. Vikram is a class act, no doubt, but then every time I see his antics unfurl as the supposed-to-be-gallant-but -devastatingly-funny-Kandasamy, I wonder what happened to the Vikram who amazed us with a relaxed depiction in Dhool. Every time I watch scenes from Bheema, every time Lingusamy frightens me with those close-up shots of the macho man’s overgrown Biceps, I sigh and yearn a tad more to watch the slim and fit Vikram who gave me goose bumps with an effortless performance as an aspiring cop. Every time he goes Mambo-ma-mia with the garish voice of his on isayaruvi or sun-music, I can’t help feeling sorry for another fantastic actor who wants to be a Kamal-like-all-rounder. Kamal is a once in a generation magician gifted with just about everything, why does every frigging actor want to be a Kamal Haasan.

Every Vikram fan out there would definitely agree upon the fact that Pithamagan is the actor’s best performance till date. But I wonder if it’s the best thing that could have happened to the actor: ever since, Vikram seems to be pushing and punishing himself by working too hard for every movie; the casual, laid-back and the totally unfussy portrayals don’t seem to find a place in Vikram’s priority list anymore. Yes he came up with Majaa but we still didn’t witness the Vikram we know, did we? My facebook news-feed is full of posts and comments heaping praises on Chiyaan. But as an uncompromising fan, I have to admit that I’m far from satisfied. You have to watch Pithamagan again to discover the underplay and delightful subtleties that Vikram is capable of. And you have to watch “I am Sam” before you watch DTM to understand the degree of over-acting that has come from totally unexpected quarters.

Vikram owes his success as an actor to the directors he has worked with. Almost obstinate dedication to the roles he has played thus far has helped Vikram reap rewards. He has worked under the likes of Bala and Mani Ratnam, who certainly know how to make use of the best efforts put forth by an actor. He has faced commercial success under the aegis of Dharani and Hari, who certainly don’t belong to the league of Mani or Bala but are masters at mass attraction (that, if you forget their recently-released forgetful ventures). But I feel it’s a gross waste of talent and effort when he works under people like Vijay and Susi Ganesan. It’s as if Vikram wants us to notice his “acting talent” one movie after another. Is there no end to his portrayal of larger-than-life characters?

Coming to Deiva thirumagal, it’s actually Vijay’s (the director) autobiography with a tweak at the end. Vikram has reprised the role of Vijay, a mentally challenged with an IQ of a six year old and Sara, the small child in the movie who has been used a metaphor to symbolize the audience. The child is six years old because Vijay assumes the audience to have an IQ level on par with the child. Nasser plays “Gowravam” Sivaji’s grandson, the way he positions his mouth consciously to indicate his parental lineage is stroke of directorial brilliance I say! 

Vijay has employed various techniques to convey the message that he’s not Sam and that he is indeed director Vijay in disguise as Krishna, with an alarmingly low IQ level. First he ruins the most beautiful scene in “I am Sam” (the purchase of shoes for the kid); the characters sell their souls and manipulate their ideals if and when they feel like (Nasser and Amala Paul’s dad, cases in point. Not to forget Vikram’s change of heart in the climax!). Then there is the totally absurd, disturbingly cheap and crass comedy track featuring MS Bhaskar, his wife and Pandi. The court scene in the climax is an insult to “I am Sam”. What were Vikram and the kid behind those wooden bars in the court doing? And what was I supposed to do as they freely exhibited those circus-type antics? Without much choice and most predictably, I burst out laughing! I am often accused of being an unemotional, unfeeling *astard but this one was too hilarious to resist: only that the humor was unintended!

I wonder what would have happened if not for Santhanam and the two lovely ladies in the movie! The girl in the movie is super-cute and surely does know a thing or two about acting. Amala Paul’s got such an addictive pair of eyes and Anushka can act a bit I guess.( No I’m not talking about Shreya or Genelia) She doesn’t have much to do, but atleast she’s not annoying like the other leading ladies of today. And can someone explain the logic behind that song in the climax (duet?!?!?!) which arbitrarily pops up like an ICICI ad when one’s browsing a popular website? I felt like screaming Aala vidungada yabba!

Karthik Kumar, Tamil cinema’s aasthana American Mapillai has been given a makeover in this movie: he’s not an American Mapillai, but he’s just a Mapillai (cut American) in this flick! But yeah, a dismal fate awaits him as usual. Again, what a waste of talent!

Chiyaan, please! We’ve had enough of such rubbish. Take us back to the days of Dhil and Dhool or stun us with movies like Pithamagan and Sethu. We have enough actors to give such half-baked nonsense. (No, I’m not talking about Vijay (The actor. Hmmm, maybe I should rephrase.) ) And as for Vijay the director, please leave Hollywood classics and classy actors like Vikram alone. You will find actors of similar IQ levels (No I’m not talking about Vijay, the person who jumped like a Dolphin in Sura) in Kollywood.

STOP TALKING "LIKE" THIS

Blogging is one of my favourite pastimes and like any other engineering student gifted with eons of free time, I also spend a lot of time on the umpteen number of social networking sites that have professionalized the art of joblessness. As I was massaging my ego by letting the cheap pleasure of my status messages, blog posts and pictures getting “liked” by a lot of people get to my head, I was simultaneously pondering over the credibility of the same. Every time I scrolled down to check the news feed from then onwards, every time my eyes rolled over a positive comment, I started questioning the very reason behind the same. The idea of a selfless “like” or a “comment” seemed farcical to me.

The phenomenon of getting “good one” or a “nice piece” comment is more common on blogosphere. The network of bloggers and their relationships have been fabricated in such a way that the idea of individuality can be made to look obscure. For a blog to be noticed, the blogger needs to check out other blogs and comment in a hope that his blog may be looked into. Indian minds or minds world over for that matter, function lazily. So it’s only natural that a person may be tempted to ignore the post, gift the blogger with a “good one” comment or a “like” and get away. The ignorant recipient of the “like” love is thus flattered into checking out the liker’s blog! A smart fellow, on the other hand, may return the liker’s favour by re-liking the post without looking into it!

The phenomenon of laziness is negated by the length of the posts on social networks as the length is directly proportional to the amount of time to be spent on it. But then, there are other significant factors that influence psyches and induce the basic instincts of selfishness to an equal extent, if not more.  Gender discrimination is one (not the kind you get to see on TV though; exact opposite in fact).  

1.       The probability of a post getting “liked” increases if you are a female. It doubles if she is holding a newly born puppy or a teddy bear. It quadruples if the girl is cute.

2.       Boys have their own ways of attracting attention. Sympathy is the best way. Status messages that condole the death of a pet or a long message that elucidates the values of friendship and true love are most likely to get “liked” by girls.

3.       Other boys like the prospect of seeing a girl "liking" a status, so they "like" the same just like that, even though they don’t like it. Because they seem to think that a girl liking them becomes a possibility if and when the girl realizes the boy likes whatever the girl "likes". (Now that makes a good status message)

4.       Tagging is the most effective technique, irrespective of genders. For a post to be liked, all you need to do is tag a friend of yours. Now that friend’s ego gets massaged due to the fact that someone’s considering him/her important enough to be tagged. So he “likes” it.

5.       And then the most obvious and logical factor. The more friends you have, the more you are on the site, greater the possibility of getting attention.

Coming back to blogging, the possibility of a girl getting greater number of hits is higher because she is a girl. But then I’d still say it’s a man’s world. When someone likes a post or gives her a compliment, she can never be sure if that was for the post or her profile picture. Testosterone has always been mankind’s (not womankind: P) biggest problem! The same rule applies to a man too, but again the way the numbers function hits a roadblock of inconsistency here. You may not get noticed for your profile picture unless you’re Hrithik Roshan.

So what does it come down to? It’s a world of attention seeking rascals out there involved in a rat race. Why is it that I always seem to find an overdose of grace and excessive humility on social networking platforms? What happens to the “otha” prefixes and the “mairu” suffixes on FB? Why is it that I always find the Peter equivalents, even when the rest of the conversation is in vernacular? Why do we always have our best pictures as our DPs? I have never found a DP featuring oneself after getting a bad haircut done, though bad haircuts are quite frequent: not many talented hairdressers out there you see.

Negative commenting is an unknown phenomenon in the social networks. No one wants to call a spade a spade. Seldom does one feel the need to spit at a bad picture, seldom does one feel the need to condemn a shameless exhibition of private grief in public in order to evoke sympathy. Seldom does one feel the need to criticize a shoddy piece of work.

 Ignorance is the most popular form of response; every person is a Buddha at heart, as charming as the latest Bollywood sensation, as intellectual as Amartya Sen and as altruistic as Santa Claus. But conditions apply: only on facebook, orkut, twitter, buzz, G+ blah blah.

P.S: PLEASE LIKE THIS POST AND SHARE IT IF YOU LIKE IT. COMMENTS WELCOME! :P 

P.P.S: WHO DOESN’T LIKE ATTENTION? LET’S “LIKE” INERTIA AND STOP COMMENTING ON THE IMPERFECT WORLD. GIVE SELFISHNESS A THUMBS UP, +1 SYCOPHANCY!

500 DAYS OF SUMMER: THE EXPERIENCE

Ya so what’s he like?

He is, uh, yeah, he is good. He is confident, unemotional, smart, happy-go-lucky, laconic, considerate and open, mildly aggressive or energetic or whatever, you know. He has very strong notions and he is kinda religious about them.

And she?

 She, yes, yup let me see. She is emotional, the kind that wets its eyes after a touching movie. Her parents split quite early, so she has these ideas about marriage and relationships. She’s hot, talks a lot of nonsense, immature, does inexplicable and cheesy stuff occasionally, socializes at will, laughs a lot, popular. A verbose occasionally.

So what happened when he and she got together?

That’s 500 days of summer for you. And the following blog post is an account of the same seen through a pair of eyes that have gotten wiser with the experience of witnessing similar characters behaving in a similar way.

He and she get together for a casual experiment, an easy extrusion that stretches the boundaries of friendship a little farther: that’s how she describes it. He calls it a relationship, names it love, it’s magical, and he knew that she was the one as soon as he saw her.

500 days of summer is a story that unravels the process of he becoming she and she becoming he with time, 500 days to be precise. The story that unfurls the mystery of gender-definition exchange, the female acquiring the male character traits and the male mastering the art of thinking like a woman when in love. (No, I’m not discussing trans-sexuality here; discussion entirely restricted to an emotional level)

So Joseph Garden Levitt (Tom Hansen) plays the heroine and Zooey Deschanel (Summer Finn) is our hero in this love story directed by Marc Webb. This beautiful evolution of characters as they fall in love or so it seems is wonderfully elucidated by a subtle exchange of words: the leads describe a certain couple (Sid-Nancy) whose relationship had come to a futile end when Sid stabbed Nancy. Summer says she feels that their co-existence reminds her of Sid-Nancy and their relationship. Tom says they have had a few arguments but he hardly feels like Sid and that he’s very happy. Summer’s reply, “NO, I’m Sid.”

500 days of summer is a wonderful exhibition of characters that look unnaturally real. The Boss who keeps smiling, the smile is almost omnipresent, even when he is addressing someone with utmost seriousness. The friends, with almost pre-historic views on love, antique enough to deserve a special place in a museum, enlightening the protagonist about the way forward. One can’t help thinking that these friends are the drawing room versions of bosses at offices. They’re criminally optimistic, punctuate their words with a pointless smile and are seldom up to any good, constantly feeding people with hope to keep themselves entertained.

The director makes a successful knock on the typical man’s mind and gleefully exposes the way it functions when in love, much to our occasional delight and the rare embarrassment too, at having once embraced the stereotypes exposed. Men possess this constant hunger to impress their love. They play a song loudly, just to see if the girl turns back to take notice and say hi.There is also this delusion of being an intellectual, of reading into a supposedly cryptic incident, of attaching cosmic significance to a seemingly symbolic happening, that’s never anything more than plain coincidence. When she sports an indifferent expression, he assumes that she’s bored: feels that it’s time for a movie when it’s not. When she indicates that she’s tired and wants to go home, he reads too much into it, thinking that she’s bored and that it’s his duty to keep her entertained. The result, they end up eating pancakes in the nearby hotel. A casual remark becomes his gospel; a satirical comment assumes the dimension of a colossal criticism. Then there’s the childhood fantasy, the fairy tales, the sad pop and the movies. Just because the lift bell goes gong before the door closes, which also happens to occur after a hot girl passes a positive remark on his taste of music and leaves, he assumes that she is the one. That’s how it is, you know. When you see the one, when she talks, bells and chimes make merry with sound, the weather is pleasant and the sun says hi. These are results of the intertwining of the girl’s mind and the man’s heart.

 One usually associates confidence, loquacity and opening up with men and shyness, confusion with women. But it works the other way when in love. The girl is casual, effortlessly walks up to kiss his man. She strikes a conversation about her relationship with him and inquires about his feelings for her without any fuss. But the guy is often confused, he doesn’t know if he has to ask her out or if he has to play the waiting game. She’s on his bed and he seeks reassurance and comfort interacting with his mirror image, a metaphor for chaos and duality. He’s not sure about her stance, about their relationship status. He keeps telling himself that it is a juvenile thing to label it and bring it down to a term like “boyfriend” but deep inside, he knows that he’d be much comfortable if it were that way.

Then there are the fun moments with the friends. The typical tendency of men to brand girls as bitc**s just because they weren’t able to talk to her or she refused to entertain talks with them or simply because she was hot (sour grapes), the friends asking about the guy’s extent of progress on the sexual ladders (the jobs, that is) and the guy simply replying that they just kissed and he’s still unemployed (read: no jobs yet). The way men interact is really funny. I just realized that it’s almost impossible for us (men) to strike a casual conversation about a good-looking female without a reference by someone at some point to her being a bitch with a cooked up story to justify the case.

The director also pays homage to the film “The graduate” with a few references to the flick here and there (the final scene of the movie also finds a place in this film). The scene where Summer lies naked on Tom’s bed, with her back facing the camera certainly reminded me of the 1967 hit. Nice way of saluting the film-maker who made the classic, a proto-type for many more romantic films.

Summer, the central character, rules this movie. Her characterization sets up the experience. She is the super-cute female who does what she likes. She’s the normal girl, she talks like a girl, she sings but then the abnormal tendencies suddenly spring up, later in the day when she’s in it with Tom. She comes up with the usual bullsh** that girls assume to be cute but she can be supremely stubborn and mature when it comes to a deep-rooted ideology or something about love, life and relationships. She’s very clear about what she wants right from the beginning and it’s just that Tom doesn’t see it. The character of the other girl in the movie, the little one, is surely the brainchild of a feminist, a tribute to the independent, contemporary, mature woman who can be super smart and talk serious sense when it matters. She speaks about the illusions in the mind of a man in love and the same getting shattered with consummate ease. She is the one he turns to in times of distress, the physical stature and incompatibility notwithstanding. Men are also dubbed as emotional bunnies and idiots when it comes to love, something i can’t agree to disagree with. The scene where Tom’s male colleague over-reacts after Tom completes a monologue is a subtle stroke of genius.

The screenplay bears an uncanny significance to the mind of Tom Hansen, it oscillates back and forth, it confuses and is confused initially only to clarify and settle down at the end. The dialogues are delicate and delightful. And the lyrics of the song that keep playing in the background wonderfully merge with the situation and the music is apposite too. Best scene in the movie? The scene where Tom’s expectations and the reality are depicted simultaneously on screen. The door is gently shut on Tom’s expectations as we get a harsh taste of reality. Poetic and poignant!

Facebook destined to go the Orkut way??

How many of you still remember the terms scrapbook, testimonials, communities, fans etc... It’s been quite a while since all of us of united phlegmatically for the cause of dumping our once best friend online, Orkut, at the prospect of sending a friend request to a more popular, contemporary and spicy contender, Facebook. Suddenly communities and scrapbooks were not cool anymore and we started shifting to the likes of likes, status updates, wall posts, photo and video tags. Another online friend surfaced, his name being Twitter, but he operated on a parallel plane thus leaving Facebook unscathed.

 As facebook functioned normally, as more and more youngsters started getting addicted to it, as more and more parents started complaining and with every passing day, Mark Zuckerberg went laughing all the way to the bank. Just when we thought our relationship with Facebook was going to be eternal, Karma, the bit** infamous for her perpetuity seems to have struck with a vengeance. The monarch of the world wide web, his highness, the most revered Google has pulled  a rabbit out of his famous hat once again and the rabbit’s name is Google plus! Here’s what I got to know about him from the horse’s mouth (Google search, that is):

Circles

 How many times has your mom screamed at you for using the “f” word on Facebook after witnessing the same from her own profile? No one seems to have understood the embarrassment of getting screamed at, at the age of 20, than Google. Circles address this awkward problem presented by Facebook’s friends list by allowing users to categorise followers into groups like friends, family, work colleagues, classmates, neighbours etc. with an easy-to-handle drag and drop button.

Chat, photos and Hangouts

 The multimedia on Google+ is a super-power package: it’s complete with sharing, tagging and editing options with personalization, privacy and security options reaching new highs. Hangouts seem to be the most attractive feature: it’s like a group discussion about weekend plans with your group of friends in the neighbourhood at a local hangout spot! It’s functioning is simple: hangout, thus enter a VIDEO (a social networking first!) chat room which automatically sends out messages to your circles and the relevant people join in! All heads turn towards an addressee when he/she’s addressing. So instead of opening separate windows for each participant, the focus is always on the person who’s talking!

Sparks

 Bloggers and content sharers better start licking their lips right away. Sparks is a collection of content (includes multimedia and articles) grouped by interest.  So it will help like minded people to get access to reputed and relevant content in addition to socializing with the people who share the same. The probability of increased circulation increases with clicks on the +1 button: Google’s equivalent of like button!

Mobile

 Google has also devised a technology for all you couch potatoes that love taking photos but are lazy to share it on networks. With Google+, all you need to do is take a photo or shoot a video and it automatically finds a rightful place in your profile. Users of Android are likely to be the first beneficiaries of Google+!

Facebook is not likely to give up tamely without a fight. It recently acquired the mobile app Snaptu and is likely to strike a deal with Skype to address the “hangout” scare. Google on the other hand are eager to break the social network jinx and strike gold. They seem to be desperate to put the demons of Google buzz and wave behind them. Facebook’s financial might is formidable and the battle is surely going to be a very interesting one. Will Google succeed? Will history repeat itself? Do you think our attachment with Facebook will stop us from dumping it? We have to wait a little more for the answers. Before I sign off, I request you to share this post on Google+ sparks if you liked it. Oh wait, I almost forgot: share it on Facebook too! 

Pillayar Theru Kadaisi Veedu: Review

 “There are movies that you’ll forget the moment you step out of the movie hall. There are movies that you’ll forget after two-three hours or two-three days. But there are a few movies that’ll make you forget yourself. Pillayar theru Kadaisi Veedu is one such movie. You’ll leave the cinema hall with a heavy heart and tears in your eyes. Jithan Ramesh has come up with an award winning performance. This movie will be his big ticket to fame.”

Golden words by director Thirumalai Kishore, the new face of Tamil cinema.

And what are you guys searching for? A review? I have promised my mom that I will enforce a blanket ban on profanity and unparliamentary or abusive language.

CHOICE IS A BEAUTIFUL THING. THE CHOICE IS YOURS:

 OR

 I'M DONE

The 10 “Oh my god” moments

I have always been a big fan of the small things in life. The big things don’t appeal to me: the big things that dad talks to me about. Career, academics, money, settling in life and the like. He often says “Don’t sacrifice the bigger things in life in pursuit of the smaller things”. The smaller things are street cricket, watching a D/N encounter on the day before the exam blah blah. These small things add a lot of colour to one’s life but there are “other” seemingly small things that irritate a person to the hilt. Things that make one go “oh my god, not again”.

1.       You get into a nice comfortable position on the sofa and start watching an epic encounter unfold between two of your favourite teams as your dad joins you and starts a conversation about the “big” things in life.

2.       You go to a marriage ceremony hoping not to run into a specific group of garrulous old ladies and it turns out that they are the first ones that you get to see as soon as you enter the hall. They start talking about how much you have lost weight and looked much healthier the last time they saw you. ( Ennada kanna, ippadi elashta? Hostel la sappadu nalla illaya? Konjam osanthurka polarkey?)

3.       I haven’t personally experienced the following OMG moment (because I’m not old enough just as yet) but I have heard about it from a lot of people. The amazingly vetti, good-for-nothing chatterboxes (mostly a gang of old ladies who keep complaining about a certain Ranganathan who married out of caste) that turn up for every single marriage that happens in town are the culprits again. The moment they spot a guy or girl of “marriageable” age, they waste no time in telling them that “Next nee than (you are up next)” in front of a group of teenagers lazing around with nothing to do.

4.       As the jobless teens burst out laughing and as you twitch and turn in embarrassment, the unforgiving descendants of Satan come up with another killer comment: “Aiyyo, vekkatha paaru (Ah, look at the shy look on his/her face)” The day these loquacious pests learn that it’s an expression of embarrassment and not shyness, the world would come to an end. But I came across this beautiful sms the other day, the perfect counter for all those evil ladies: just repeat the “next nee than” dialogue to them at funerals. That should shut them up once and for all.

5.       You visit a hotel with a bunch of middle-aged relatives. After a sumptuous banquet, you exorbitantly praise the hotel and the cook. The Maama(uncle) sitting right across your table says, “Enna irunthaalum veetu saapadu pola varaathu (nothing can come close to home-made food any day)”.

6.       You travel with your grandfather on a boring afternoon and plug in your earphones to listen to A.R.R’s latest. As you get mesmerised by the lilting music, your lips accidently start muttering the song. Your grandpa suddenly gets up and says “enna irunthaalum MSV, Bhagavathar paatu mathiri varathu (no musician can ever come close to MSV or Bhagavathar)”

7.       You go to a movie with your girl-friend and specifically ask for the corner seat at the counter. Just for the sake of re-assurance, you get it clarified with the guy at the counter three or four times. The saintly person on the other end gives you a warm smile and the tickets. As you enter the theatre, you find the allotted seats to be right at the centre of the hall, with a group of college boys hooting and whistling around the allotted seats.

8.       You head to Sathyam cinemas to watch your favourite movie on the first day after telling your parents that you want to get some doubts in heat and mass transfer clarified from your friend, only to find your uncle at the theatre. He coolly calls up your dad and tells him “Hey guess what, I’m watching my favourite film with your son.”

9.       You prepare for your exams according to the blueprint prescribed by your teacher and wisely omit a certain portion owing to lack of time. The sly guy comes up with a question paper with majority of the marks allotted to the portion that you omitted.

10.   You sing praises of the almighty for finding yourself opposite to a lovely lass in a reserved compartment. Just as you start Peter uttufying and kadala pottufying, a long lost friend turns up from nowhere and asks for a seat exchange with the girl.

180: An ode to randomness

Take a bowl, fill it with wheat flour, add some water and make a paste out of it. Then add a handful of sugar to it. Then take some chilli powder and spice it up. Now add a teaspoon of salt and top it up with finely cut bitter gourd. Now transfer this to your mixer and grind it well. Finally add some tomato sauce, mix well and taste it. How would it taste? Bad and RANDOM? That’s precisely the kind of taste 180 leaves in your mouth after you’re done tasting one half of it.

The first half is an assimilation of half-baked, beautifully captured scenes carrying well-defined characters speaking horribly childish dialogues. The movie’s got some beautiful music by debutant Sharreth, agreed: but does the director have to slip into romantic melody mode every now and then to keep reminding us of the composer’s prowess? Yes, the crew has been gifted with a brilliant cameraman but does the director have to resort to ultra slow mo gimmicks every seventh second to remind us about the overabundance of latest gizmos and gadgets in his camp, especially after the overkill in the IPL? The scene where Nithya Menen goes about clicking pics of the newspaper kids is the height of gimmickry! Priya Anand is hot and a hot heroine is a rare commodity these days. Why didn’t they capitalize on it, especially with so many songs in the movie? Instead we see her crying throughout the movie, the lesser said about her acting the better: what a disgrace!

What was Nithya Menen doing in the movie? Siddarth himself was a big disappointment: the usual flamboyance and the opulence of on-screen energy was definitely missing. His acting too, was surprisingly below par. The movie had a decent storyline going for it but it’s the atrocious screenplay that ruined it.

I loved certain small things about the movie though (spoilers alert): the girl proposing for a change. I am tired of watching men propose. Secondly, Sid’s symbolic re-birth in Varanasi. But one major thing about the movie kept bugging me: fear of death is constant and independent of geographical location. The American Yamadharmaraja (funny fellow, unintended humour) stops haunting Sid as soon as he shifts base to India. Initially, Sid is shown as a person completely flabbergasted, thanks to the medical reports that predict a premature death. There is no emotional angle to it at first; his wife doesn’t come into the frame. It’s just an image of a man unhappy with the supposedly unfair end awaiting him that we get to see: which implies that his premonitions regarding death shouldn’t cease to occur even if he moves to another location because it’s an inner devil that’s haunting him. The inner devil functions independently, with third-party emotions, people and place of existence having no-bearing on it whatsoever. But Sid becomes a different beast once he shifts to India: the happy-go-lucky, live for the moment person with no emotional hindrances, with absolutely no memories about the love of his life.

The purpose of Nithya Menen’s character was bamboozling and if the director intended to make us feel sad for the character at the end of it all, sorry boss: big failure. And I wonder if the box-office result is going to be any different!

CHENNAI RAWKS

My city Chennai rawks. You know why? Because we founded 2 important languages other than tamil: they are Tanglish which is tamil and engleesh kalanthufied and one more is madras basha, which is called that even though we’re Chennai(super kings). We often kalanthufy both to kalaichify those Peter anculs who always gaandethify us.

We also want to ushaar white gals like aadukalam Dhanush and ishtukunu run with her. We also want to ushaar getthu figures like his maamu baasha rajini who speed ah auto drives and corrects nagma. You don know maamu? Kamal telling in vasoolraja, u not see: raja calling raju, maamanar calling maamu. You kamal don’t know, then you’re dubakoor maamu.

 But these mokka peters come, speaking englees, vittufy gapsa, ushaar figures, do gujjals, gaja gaja and then kazhundufy. We are not like they. We are degent pellows, we don’t dabaichify and valchikinu run away without parent’s permit and license.

We rare drink quarter, penathify and pethify to them and finally become tight and matta. Why? To make them peel our peelings. they’re odachifying our idhayams, for them nogala? What they seeing in peter not in me? he is thairsatham, his face same to same as maida maavu. If i become gaandu i’ll take steel palupu and adichi moonji keenjilam keechiruven. Or acid take and throw on his mogarakatta. But why i not doing? Because me degent and serious love my figure.

If she want i coming talking to her naina, my maamu. I asked her ready-aa, ok-vaa? But she no. Semma bejaar pa that figure. Ok i not beetiful, no thuddu, live in gudsae she can ajjust no? So many things ajjusting in lype no?  my love serious annathey. See my hand. blade aala keeshtaen and write her name. She see and mersalaidichu, light-ah gaandaichu.

Yechusme i karichi kotting my peelings and you why no reaksen? I telling rightu no? You understand why she not understand? In cinema, getthu figure like tirisa and all kalyanam kattufying vijay no? She not see cinema i thinking, my petta pasanga also same thinking. In next janmam, i want to be born peteru ba, i’ll pray my kulasaamy. I will be mokka, poota case and drink milk, no quarter. But matter what means i getting my figure.

Seri wait kaindukaatha, i will stop mokka. why putting sceenu, you that big appatucker become ah? Seri machi lateaachu, oru quarter soltu appeat aavu. Taa taa..

BALA DISAPPOINTS! ( an open letter to my idol)

Dear Bala,

Why Bala, why? Why did you make this film? What were you thinking? What were your motives? Every time I witnessed those words “a film by Bala” on screen before today at the end of every movie of yours, I used to be immersed in a sea of sadness and contemplation. But today as I walked out of Rakki cinemas, like I did two years before (spellbound after watching the first show of your Naan Kadavul on the first day), all I could sense was an air of disappointment surrounding me! When all those Mani Ratnam and Gautam Menon fans used to intimidate me and try to convert me to their religion, I used to stand there with all the pride in the world, defending my idol, my hero. But today, here I am, battered and bruised, hapless and helpless. Simply because, the one thing that has been a consistent ingredient in your arsenal was found missing: the storyline!

I still have to give you credit for leaving us petrified and tongue-tied in the last half an hour. I still have to give you credit for taking us back into your dark dens of depression. I still can’t write you off because you can make us gape at the screen in surprise and pleasure as you introduce your hero in the most bizarre way. But I can’t tolerate my favourite director making his protagonist ask his love, “un pant la zip irukka illaya? Zip irukka, appo Ethukku?” I can’t stand a pointless first half which lazes around with not an iota of relevance to the main story, though a normal director can get away citing entertainment value as the reason for providing meaningless comic relief. I can’t stand an array of mostly crass jokes besieging me, though a considerable part of the cinema hall was laughing it out. I must admit that there were a few funny exchanges and rib-ticklers here and there, but I’d definitely and most obviously expect more than inconsistent humour from a man of your stature.

Does this film need romantic interludes? Did the story warrant a guest appearance from a big star? Does “THE” Bala sir need to employ a gimmicky scene to bring out the acting prowess in an actor even though Vishal and Yuvan exploited the opportunity to the hilt? How barefaced can it get? Why did you have to wait for a sizeable 100 minutes before you started narrating your story? Why do you have to look at alternate avenues when you can keep us greedy and asking for more everytime you belt out a movie very much in your comfort zone? Why do you have to deliberately attempt a forced brand of humour when you can effectively intersperse comedy in your mainstream narration. When all the characters who were assumed to be comedians and sidekicks exhibited astounding dimensions and impacted the storyline in a subtle yet substantial way in your earlier ventures, why the indifference and unfair bias in your latest avatar? Why did you have to get the best out of Na.Muthukumar only to leave him high and dry without visual support?

Many people may still find your latest venture appealing, thanks to inspiring performances from Arya and Vishal(surprise, surprise: another actor is born out of the Bala camp.terrfic effort) whose fans may find this a treat. But you have let one of your biggest fans down. I have already started anticipating your next movie because I know you’re only going to come back stronger. I know the wait is going to be a long, as it has always been but I know you’d treat us to a refreshingly vivid spring once the drought is over.

Yours truly,

A Bala fanatic (forever)

Qutub Minar: A few clicks and observations

I recently visited the national capital Delhi. Just like any other tourist, i visited the Qutub Minar . I made some interesting observations. I also made a few comparisons to the other monuments I had visited during my childhood. I discovered a few things, clicked a few pictures and returned home a happy man, my heart filled with nostalgic thoughts and memories. The monument and the structures around it are an ode to the slave dynasty: Qutubuddin Aibak, its first ruler, constructed the Qutub Minar. The enclosure also contains Iltutmish's tomb, the iron pillar which has remained corrosion free for the last few centuries and tombs of Iltutmish and Alauddin Khilji, other rulers of the same dynasty.

P.S: I'm not an expert on architecture. Just an inquisitive traveller who loves comparisons and constructs his own beliefs based on personal observations.

The big one: the full view.

Typical Muslim architecture: Urdu all over the place, beautifully textured walls and wonderfully improvised use of basic geometric figures to create splendid boundaries.

 

What can  I say? Dumbfounded, Spell-bound! Absolute beauty! Classy: Delicious texture.

 

One very interesting discovery was the pillar design. In Hindu temples, all the pillars have a very uniform design i.e all pillars look the same, at least the ones in the same corridor. but this was quite startling. Every pillar in this photo has a distinct design.

This one was a little queer. The Muslims are not known to be idol worshippers but this one reminded me of the usual stone carvings one is likely to find on the walls of any Hindu temple. The arch like enclosure and a deity inside the same is a very common sight in a Hindu temple. this may still be something else ( I'm no expert on architecture) but I have never come across Muslim architecture that depicts idols and human-like figures. They're known for their extensive use of basic geometry to create intricate designs and the omnipresence of Urdu inscriptions.  This one was quite a surprise.

This inscription, brought back memories of something I had read about the ASI in pertinence to the Muslims and the ASI's attitude towards the Muslims after partition. All muslims, regardless of their class or position were subjected to severe scrutiny by the ASI as every Muslim in India was thought to be a Pakistani agent. Hence every Pakistani was asked for details about his family and was told to bring back relatives residing in Pakistan to India. Sardar Vallabhai Patel was supposedly a key element in this movement. The Muslims in India, who were already feeling insecure, were made to feel even more insecure, thanks to such activities by the government.

                                                     

Azhagarsamiyin Guthirai: Whiff of fresh air

There is one big problem with all these filmmakers who set out to make movies with a plot bearing any minor pertinence to social issues of any kind: they can be exceedingly loud in terms of presentation. So much so that, the plot takes a backseat after a point and the director’s urge to communicate his opinion leads to alliteration-laden lengthy monologues. This problem has ruined many regional films that could have been quite a few notches higher on the quality ladder had the treatment been spruced up with a little more innovation.

One such movie was “Katrathu Tamizh”. The debutant director had a very innovative and relevant theme that translated into a loquacious narrative complete with value education lectures towards the end. In an effort to pictorially present an alternate take on the economic reforms that shook India in 1992, the director gifted us a half hour lecture on globalization. Though the theme appealed to me, I personally felt that the director tried too hard to make a different flick: one that tried to be different for the heck of it!  I personally feel cinema being the visual media that it is, messages are best conveyed and appreciated through pictures. Dialogues play a very vital role but being a little stingy and conservative on that count can only enhance the charm. I’d prefer a graphic representation, visual depiction to a lengthy lecture any day.

That’s exactly why Azhagarsamiyin Guthirai is a gem. It’s a light hearted take on the various superstitions and the social evils that plague remote villages in Tamil Nadu. The problems due to these unscientific practices are part of the storyline i.e. they don’t appear as sidetracks thus making multi-Para monologues unnecessary. Yes, the movie features controversial issues like inter-caste marriages, satirical digs on meaningless rituals, fortune-telling and black magic, superstitions and the like. But at no point does the audience or the director feel the need to tag along a scene in which the protagonist transforms the village with his oratory skills. On the contrary, one of the central characters in the movie, an iconoclast in love with a female of another caste, is shown to be a person who openly sneers at tradition but doesn’t feel the need advocate his views to change the world around him simply because he doesn’t see a point and lacks the belief that things are going to change. He prefers to whisper wisecracks to his friends who echo his thoughts or mouth a one-liner to a police inspector who appears to be bewildered by the omnipresence of ignorance around him. These verbal tickles and the smile that they bring on your lips are definitely more effective than those verbosely sermons.

Satire is another interesting feature in ASK. Be it the director projecting his hilarious intent through the scenes mocking at fortune-tellers, the villagers performing shockingly funny rituals and investing in thoroughly unscientific beliefs in the name of god as the iconoclasts have fun watching them or the sarpanch and his sidekicks getting embarrassed in the process of hunting for funds, the sarcasm is of the highest order. The dialogues are crisp and explosive. Sample this: “dai ithu saami guthirai. ithu un guthirai than nu sollarthukku unkitta enna Saatchi iruku?”

“ithu saami guthira than nu solrathukku unga kitta enna Saatchi irukku?”

The best part about ASK is that it’s not preachy. Total abstinence from fanaticism is an astounding feature: nobody is deemed perfect; at no point does the director point fingers at a person and tell us that this is how you got to lead your life. He examines the beauty of various characters, marvels at the splendour of diversity and depicts the pleasurable chaos that reigns as a result. The movie seems to be glorifying pragmatism and rationalism at certain junctures, the group of suspecting, sceptical youth start becoming a little larger-than-life and heroic: but just when you start feeling that way, the director comes up with a comical scene in which a kiddo makes a fool of these ostensibly smart men, indicating that no one or nothing is foolproof.

Another interesting aspect that’s been highlighted is the plight of rationalists in the society. Just because they speak against the conventional motion, they’re dubbed as real life villains. (I know people who hate Kamal Haasan and Karunanidhi because they are atheists!) Rationalists rarely care about the indifference they are subjected to, but this movie makes a conscious effort to underline the fact that people with alternate ideologies can be humanitarians too. Though I have come across many militant atheists who speak passionately about atheism and are fanatic about it and make it a religion like cliché in the process, I also know of people who are open to arguments and know to respect an alternate faith at the same time as long as it’s not imposed on them. The climax is a beautiful exhibition, an honour crowned upon the people of the second kind.

But the most enjoyable character in the movie was definitely appukutty dude! I find him cute in his own way and he’s a pretty good actor too: I loved his introduction scene where he runs at the sight of his horse as Ilayaraja gives us goosebumps with his background score. The tinge of innocence and a conscious effort to not hurt others in spite of overt love for his horse has been gracefully portrayed. The emotions in the scenes involving appukutty have worked wonderfully.

Ilayaraja is a different beast in this movie: we see a contemporary version of the maestro. The lengthy orchestrations are replaced by brief strumming and strategically placed fill-ins though he does dig out scenes to exhibit his traditional genius. The songs are a little below par but they are a treat when you watch it on-screen with a little visual help. The cheeky interludes still evoke that occasional smile on your lips.

To sum it up, the film’s a breezy piece of visual poetry that’s sure to invigorate you!

Aaranya Kaandam review: Weird yet striking!

Aaranya kandam is a very tough movie to rate, review or define. The movie is weird and the treatment is “Tarantino”ish. The splash of yellow with the occasional sprinkle of red or black aptly characterizes the movie throughout and effectively amplifies the impact. Two things set Aaranya kandam apart: the movie scores a big zero as far as the entertainment quotient is concerned. The movie doesn’t have songs, leave alone item numbers: something I personally found refreshing but I’m not sure if everyone’s going to like it that way.

 Secondly, the director takes his own sweet time to sketch his characters and elucidate their demeanours and their ideals. The elaborate detailing adds to the final impact but if you are one of those guys who wants to go to the movie hall, sit back and have some fun, the movie is going to be a little rough on you: the experience is a challenge and calls for unbridled attention. Certain essential scenes can be dead boring but if the viewer doesn’t twitch and turn and stays focussed, he will find the director to magnanimous in terms of deliverance of cinematic ecstasy.

The movie flies high on the back of some terrific on-screen renditions from unexpected quarters, haunting BGM and sound effects, fireworks in the form of hilarious dialogues and a screenplay that’s reminiscent and fascinating as dark poetry. The intertwining of the dialogues and the screenplay, the process of the two getting together and making love on-screen as the story is unravelled is one significant feature that makes the film-lover in you jump in joy. The wise-cracks and the one-liners glitter with belligerence, sample these: “anney, yaar kooda ney pesiturnthinga? Anniyaa?” “illa, un *unni”

“dai unga appa va naan kapatharaen da, yaen naa unga appava kadathinavanga thaan yaen pondatti ah yum kadathirkaanga”

“katna pondattiya vey ozhunga vachchikka thuppu illa, ithula nee enga appava kaapathaporiyaa?”

The BGM is another aspect that elevates the experience: the theme music that plays at various junctures when the emotions run high, the radio that keeps playing in the backdrop (ilayaraja’s best as usual: it’s becoming a trend to play his stuff in all movies) and the sound effects spice up proceedings wonderfully. The casting is kickass: Jackie Shroff as the menacing, repulsive bad ass, Vijay as the satirical thug, the smart kid who mouths memorable dialogues, his good-for-nothing dad, Sampath as the roughie with a heart, Ravikrishna as sappa, the girl who plays Jackie’s concubine and all the others who play small-yet-significant roles (gajendran and gajapathy, the fortune-teller etc.) have seemingly had a field day donning their respective vivid hats. I was particularly impressed with the lone female in the movie.

But the biggest winner at the end of it all is the storyline: what a beauty! The setting, the build-up, the evolution of characters and the climax: every single aspect is brought out poetically with detailing at its graceful best! The basic theme itself is refreshing, the director intelligently not refraining to proverbial endings. It’s a beautiful take on mankind: it takes guts to point out that everything is secondary to desires and that survival is mankind’s most basic instinct. There’s nothing right or wrong about any deed or activity and it all comes down to perception.  It’s a gangster flick that doesn’t feature fat goons exploding at 140 decibels, a story in which the baddies don’t thirunthify towards the end. More than everything else, it re-defines “different”. It’s a lesson for all those film-makers who claim to have made different cinema after burdening their works with cliches. Ambition reaches dizzy heights, thanks to Thyagarajan Kumararaja and S.P.charan! It’s time for you to honour them by watching it at the nearest theatre.   

MY FIRST LOVE

Trains have been and will always be an integral part of my life. I wonder what life without trains would have been for me. My dad’s job is of transferable nature, so mom and I have had to travel a lot to meet my dad. Then came the time for me to join a school. I live in a village, so I had to travel about 17 kilometers per day to reach my school< a good school used to be a rarity back then>then I shifted base to the city to study in another school, so I had to travel back by train to enjoy my weekends at my hometown. I’m in the final year of college now and trains have been my tickets to freedom over the past three years. When it comes to freaking out with friends in the city or travelling to destinations across the city, I have not had the misfortune of looking beyond the eternal love of my life. I also embark on trips to various places of interest across the Indian Diaspora every year and the train journeys have made these extra special.

There is something magical about trains. The rhythmic and harmonious sound that’s churned out as a result of the propulsion is music to my ears. The quantum of activity that one gets to witness in a train is unbelievable. The cry babies, the garrulous old men, the irritating girls ceaselessly talking about lipsticks and make-up, the maamas and maamis discussing family problems, the loud businessmen shouting at employees over their phones, the taciturn dude enjoying the evening breeze and music on his I-pod, brainy middle-agers discussing business, politics and cinema, the locallu boys smoking beside the door and discussing something in hushed voices, female vendors spitting paan in between the pointing finger and the middle finger: well a train is definitely not short of characters.

The moment I step inside a train, I make it a point to get myself a seat and observe these characters (any other discerning observer mistakes me to be the taciturn dude type). After I am done with the fun, I get into the groove for some action. I mostly end up joining the brainy uncles discussing economics (banks, fiscal policies, economic reforms, recession etc.), a subject that’ll never cease to fascinate me. I put my hand up for the occasional dumb doubt or giggle at a pun-filled remark. I don’t listen to music when I’m travelling because I’d miss out on fun; I make an exception to the general rule when I travel with my family though.

The aforementioned characters are usually encountered in electric trains in Chennai or when travelling by a reserved compartment in an express train. It’s a different story altogether when I travel by a general unreserved compartment. I prefer travelling by an unreserved compartment any day and I’ve been doing it quite regularly. My friends keep interrogating me about it. Well one main reason is that it’s cheap. And I love the air of unexpectedness that surrounds an unplanned trip. That fizz motivates me! One doesn’t get to see such a variety of characters in a general compartment. In fact, there are only two kinds: the innocent, stupefied person, a common man in the real sense, not the common men the media goes gaga about: his eye sports the glint, the twinkle that you would notice in the eye of a 10-year old when you take him to a planetarium. Not a hint of self-consciousness is noticeable. Next, there is the arrogant transgressor who thinks smoking or drinking in public is cool; a brash youth with coloured hair that doesn’t suit him one bit: the type of guy who plays a petty thief in movies.

I love talking to strangers because it’s a way of making friends and I’d like to slap people who condemn conversations with strangers: every friend of yours was once a stranger idiot! Try striking a conversation with the first kind: its bliss of the highest order. They don’t understand recession, they care a damn about the political scenario, they don’t have to worry about corruption and its consequences, and they mistake you to be abusing them if you mention Anna Hazare or Baba Ramdev. But I have to admit that these people are generally conscious about their religion and caste. They are in love with their place of origin and their surroundings. Love for nature is instinctive. They can give you INTERESTING ten hour lectures (that sets them apart from our lecturers in college) about their kovil thiruvizhas (temple gatherings), oor sandhais(er, temporary malls in villages, not multi-storeyed though  ), riots, relatives, marriages, food and children. They also come up with the occasional wisecrack about cities, culture and this generation. Trust me, these conversations are much more interesting than the “student politics, I’m gonna change the world” discussions. And when it’s time for you to get down, they paint their words with emotion, genuine ones at that!

I usually resort to sleeping when in a reserved compartment during night trips, unless it’s a youngster on the other side, preferably girls. The topic of discussion I’d prefer when I embark on a night time journey with girls is obvious, so I don’t have to fuss about it. With guys, its different, I usually let the other person dictate the course of the conversation; I make it a point to be a good listener and get to know about things I don’t know. Gossip stories in other colleges make for interesting listening as well and it’s preferable to hear it from a girl’s mouth. Girls are good at spicing things up: in kitchens and otherwise.

I recently made my first proper long distance trip in an AC compartment. I hated every bit of it till I got a seat alongside an old fellow on his way to some meeting in Kerala. Apparently, he hasn’t had much education but **maaley! He spoke about everything that makes up the complex cycle of life! By mistake, obviously ignorant about the sea of questions that were to besiege me, I told him that I was pursuing mechanical engineering. And that was it! I am ashamed of the fact that I’m going to be in possession of a b.tech degree in a year’s time!


The writer of this post is also in awe of the MRTS in Chennai and the metro in Delhi. The speed, the grand structures and the network: they’ll never cease to amaze me. He is also eagerly awaiting the arrival of Chennai metro (there is a possibility of monorail making its debut too). But there’s one disturbing thought amidst the ocean of fond memories. I don’t mind the railways treating the AC compartment commuters to spicy food, newspapers, magazines and other privileges. Excusable discrimination. But I think the commuter in the general compartment deserves better sanitation facilities. A parryware toilet in the ac compartments and rusted mugs and soiled toilets for others is definitely unacceptable!

BABA'S FAST: AN IPL TWIST

1st “Power” play: Baba threatens the UPA by expressing his desire to go on a hunger strike against corruption. Expects a capacity crowd of ten million people!

Strategic time out1: UPA high command gets into a huddle and UPA’s man for all seasons, their own version of Subramaniam Badrinath, Kapil Sibal is sent in to silence the storm.

Middle overs: Team Orange’s domination is evident but home team UPA manages to strike a few important blows. Uses decision review to protect a few of its important players like the PM!

“Citi” moment of success: There is no stopping the Baba! He storms out of the conference hall, raises his hand in triumph as an imaginary crowd goes berserk in front of him. The fast will go on as scheduled!

“Karbonn” Kamaal catch: RSS and BJP cheerleaders clad in orange are found waiting outside. They lure the Baba with their orange jerseys and a few black suitcases. CNN-IBN reports a 140 decibel roar heard from inside the Shiv Sena’s office. One sainik tells reporters that they have caught the big fish! Bewildered by the statement’s contradiction to the RSS’s pro-vegetarian stance, the reporter walks back!

Innings break: Singh Digvijaya, AICC’s glamorous host gets candid with the Baba. Baba talks about his modern thoughts and chronologically relevant ideologies like imposing a ban on coffee, tea and cola, directing homosexuals to asylums, ban on 500 and 1000 rupee notes etc. He stresses on the importance of bringing back black money stashed in tax havens. At this juncture, he gets a beep from the “left” hand side of the playground, a certain “Karat” who’s got nothing to do with gold jewellery, elucidating details about his “peace” island in Scotland. Baba puts his phone on silent and replies with a “ ttyl :x “!

2nd “power” play: Sadhvi Rithambhara, a renowned secularist according to the people on the right hand side who has made innumerable anti-Muslim speeches and was an integral part of a movement of supreme national importance (read babri masjid demolition), joins the bandwagon thus making it a perfectly non-communal movement! Home team launches a counter-attack: police forces swoop down on Ramdev and co.

Strategic time out: Baba sneaks out by wearing a salwar.

Off-field gossip: actor Vadivelu spotted in the crowd. Wait, he’s on the big screen too! Vijaykant’s number engaged!

Middle overs: Rebuilding phase for the Baba! Meanwhile a m(o)ody(i) guy from Gujarat refers to police action as an act of barbarism and ravanlila at ramlila!

Slog overs: Baba dares the police to arrest him. The orange gang arrives in huge numbers to condemn the barbaric act!

Result: it’s a tie!! Bring on the super over. Ramdev suggests a venue change: Haridwar!

Elsewhere in Chennai, a boy named Soupy: Machaan, if the communists and the BJP get together during the next elections, they’ll have two things in common with the gayle-dilshan combo. What?

Me: don’t know.

Soupy: both of them are potentially explosive and they’re a left-right combination too!

THE MUDDLEHEADS

We are fortunate to be living in an era of creativity. As a kid, I remember myself being a fan of advertisements blessed with catchy jingles. Advertisements weren’t in vogue those days. It was a period when the ad film makers and the IT professionals were not so cool, a period marked by a stark contrast to the economic policies that made Indians poorer and India richer. Now almost two decades after the “revolution”, here we are in the era of Zoozoos, with levels of creativity reaching dizzy heights.

But there are a few advertisements I stumbled upon in the recent past that made me think if the human race is travelling back in time to the days of the early men. I mean, how can a human being be so sterile in terms of imagination and creativity? The following is a list of ads that annoyed me to the hilt:

Docomo: I was highly impressed by the simplicity and the creativity in the Docomo ads initially. Be it the use of stick figures or the cute “tu toothu” jingle, everything worked for the ad. Then they slowly started overdoing it. They tried an emotional connect with an ad set in a train and it bombed big time. It used to be aired during the over breaks in the indo-oz series and I remember my friends booing loudly in the hostel common room every time.

But Docomo hit an all time low in terms of innovation and judgement by employing Ranbir Kapoor as their brand ambassador. Watching him onscreen is a pain in itself and I wonder how a sane person can possibly entrust this kid with the responsibility of endorsing a brand. Ranbir is supposed to be doing stand up comedy in this series of ads. How the hell did the makers find this funny? The people laughing in the background have to be retards of the highest order! And Ranbir, go drink milk kiddo. Try knocking on Amul’s doors. At the moment, you look like Docomo’s Zoozoo. It’s just that you’re not funny.



Idea: I have no idea how the makers of this ad could have made a front door entry into the world of ad film making. Film critics had unlimited fun mocking at his histrionics in Raavan in the hope that he wouldn’t try his hand at anything as silly as that again. He’s back with a bang though. People had the easy option of skipping Raavan but the nature of AB’s new Avatar is such that there is no way out. To add to the misery, as if one AB wasn’t enough, we get to see three Abisheks in the ad, as if one was not enough.



JK Lakshmi cement: This one is quite old but I’m sure it’s still fresh in everyone’s memory. Remember the horrendous sight of a pathetic model clad in a single piece bikini walking out of the sea towards the shore? I’m sure that not a single person who’s watched that ad has deciphered its relevance to the product and it doesn’t look cryptic either. If the idea was to titillate, why didn’t they go for a better model atleast?



Parryware: During the Wc, every ad maker wanted to capitalize on the cricket craze in the nation. This resulted in an atrocious series of ads. The worst of the lot was Parryware. I am out of words!



The aforementioned ads have two things in common: 1. All of them are horrible. 2. All of them shared the purpose of promoting their product and most importantly, they had a product to be advertised. But I considered excusing all those ad filmmakers when I saw these. No purpose, no product, what the hell is your problem? can't say these are advertisements, but what in the world are they?