Confusions Confirmed

The Kite Runner

2006-08-29T06:11:00.000-07:00

NYtimes had listed this book for far more weeks than I though it should deserve, on a brief look the first time. A quick perusal in the library and I decided that it wasn't going to be all that boring afterall. The novel is actually a first person narrative of life spent in Afghanistan, followed by an immigrant experience in America. Pretty moving actually. Not the usual morbid teary tale, but one that vividly brings out the life of immigrants caught at the crossroads between prosperous past and pitiful future. What would drive an immigrant (Amir) to abandon relative peace in the US to undertake a treacherous journey back to his desolate country?. Full of guilt and haunted with betrayal, he seeks to redeem himself from the burdens of his brutal past. A tale filled with twists and unexpected turns that in the end answers all our questions, but leaves us with memories of a nation's chronicles through war, occupation and ravages of time. Definitely worth a read. It was a joy to get an insight into the exotic land of Afghanistan, of its glorious past, its queer customs, varied culture glimpses of which one might have only seen in old hindi movies.

Pic Courtesy: Amazon.com

Update # Ashok's Pic: Kids, Kites and Kabul.

My mother's daughter.

2006-08-28T06:28:00.000-07:00

I stood there in the dark, standing with a bowl of rice flour mixed in water. Not too flowy, not to thick, just right enough for 'that' art work I had in mind. This time, I had everything right. The rice was soaked in water only long enough for the flour to grind to a smooth paste. After a few rehearsals in air, mapping imaginary lines and curves, I smiled with satisfaction at my wooden canvas that was sweeped and mopped clean, 'no grain of sand' was left unturned. It was cold and breezy outside. I remembered how my mother would hold the bowl in one hand and a small piece of a white cloth that would have been a part of my poor father's veshti only a few days back in the other. Bending down, her face completely relaxed, she'd dip the cloth in the mix and then hold it between her fingers. Sqeezing it lightly, only just right enough for the mix to flow out from the soaked cloth, her fingers would start this beautiful dance in perfect unison, curving seamlessly tracing invisible lines on concrete, occasionally dipping into the bowl to replenish their stock, but not pausing once to see if it was in proportion, if the lines diagonally criscrossing each other at the corners were aligned, if it was indeed symmetrical.

After 30 minutes of back breaking work, not to mention the hours of preparation that went into it, the 'padi-kolam' was finally taking shape. My doorway was at odd angles to the entrace and the wooden floor with pieces that ran criss-cross was making it difficult to align the lines in order. Like finishing touches to a masterpeice, I was hoping that the 'semman' would cover up all spots and make up for lines out of sync. Carefully, not disturbing the half dried kolam, I drew lines in red all around it. Finally, there I was, not the impeccable art work I had in mind, but close. I decided to take a picture of it the next morning and proudly email it to my mother saying 'I am almost there. Someday it will be better than yours'.

It rained cats and dogs that night.

I am weird.

2006-08-14T06:35:00.000-07:00

I don't think I handle success very well. For me the battle is lost once the victory is near. So much so, I go into oblivion towards the end hoping that the euphoria will die down and that I could get back to life. The life that I know and love in uncomplicated terms, filled with mundane activities, useless trivias. I had been in a long fight with a certain issue. After prolonged, 'fighting the fire' should I say, it became apparent a few days back that I was in the clear. It was all over, mission accomplished. No more angst or moments earnestly spent imploring the celestial beings. Instead of happily attending to all the congratulatory calls, here I was, confounded how to handle the new found freedom. Did I miss out 'wallowing in pity' party?, hell no !!. I held onto life with such verve throughout, it scared the heck out of me. 'People go through worse, stop pandering to your weak soul' I would chide myself with each passing trail. Practice makes perfection they say. Each time, I would remove my 'self' from the scene a little bit in an attempt to totally disconnect with my emotional self. And over time, I gradually lost the power to feel, to emote, to express anger or sorrow as mortals best know. Now, when I am supposedly 'vulnerable', held hostage to spirits sodden with highs and lows as harmones play havoc with my system, I am lost on emotions or words that would best describe my state. I am weird.

indi Phillum

2006-08-04T07:19:00.000-07:00

The last hindi movie I watched was 'Raincoat'. A simple likable story revolving around just two characters, almost entirely shot in one room. Reminded me of a lesson in our high school english text - was it 'Gift of the Maggie' ???. Sometimes over the weekend, I get to watch AVS (as its called in the tri-state area). Bunch of over enthusiastic ABCD's with american accented hindi talking about latest news in the indi-phillim industry. I hadn't watched it for a while, and last week I noticed that I hadn't missed much either. The movie 'Corporate' was being analyzed. I know nothing about Madhur Bhandharkar and so reserve my opinions on his film making skills. But I do know that off all the lady leads he could pick for for a bold themed movie (assuming the same from the name), he choose Bipasha Basu. 'That' speaks for itself and was all the more confirmed as I watched snippets of 'war-of-words' from the movie. The lady suffers from permanent damage in the face resulting from Botox treatments no less. Or did she mistake 'Corporate' for corporeal ??.

பேஷன் பட்ட பாடு

2006-07-27T13:24:00.000-07:00

எனக்கு அப்போழுது பதினைந்து வயது இருக்கும்.அப்பா பாட்டியை பார்க்கவேண்டும் என ரொம்ப நாளாய் சொல்லிக் கொண்டிருந்தார். புதுசாக வாங்கின ஸ்கர்டை போடணும்னு எனக்கும் ஆசை. குட்டையான ஸ்கர்ட் [Short-Skirt], அதுவும் ஜீன்ஸ் துணியால் ஆனது, பின்னால் ஒரு ஸ்லிட் [with slit] கூட இருந்தது. அம்மாவிடம் அழுது அழிச்சாட்டியம் செய்து, போடுக்கொண்டு அப்பா முன்னால் நின்றேன். அவரோ என்னை ஏரெடுத்துக்கூடப் பார்க்காமல் "இதெல்லாம் பாட்டிக்கு பிடிக்காது, வேற எதையாவது போட்டுண்டு வாயேன்" என்று கெஞ்சாத குறையாக சொல்லியும், கடைசியில் என்னுடைய பிடிவாதமே வெண்ரது. ஒரு வழியாக முட்டி தெரியாமல் இடுப்புக்கு கீழே இழுத்து இழுத்து, ஒரு மாதிரி சமாளித்து கொண்டு போனேன். அப்பாவை சில காலம் கழித்து பார்த்ததில், பாட்டி உடனே என்னிடம் எதுவும் விசாரிக்கவில்லை. முடிந்தவரை பாட்டியிடமிருந்து 'கழுவுர மீனில் நழுவுர மீனாய்' நழுவிக்கொண்டிருந்தாலும், எனக்கு உள்ளே ஏதொ உதரல் எடுத்துக்கொண்டுதான் இருந்தது. சரியாக கிளம்பும்பொழுது என்ன நினைத்தாளோ, "இதென்ன புதுசா போட்டுண்டு இருக்க?, இப்போ இதான் பேஷனா ?" என்று இன்ணோசன்டாக ஒரு பிடி பிடித்தாள். நானும் விடாமல் சுதாரித்துக்கொண்டு, "ஆமா, புதுசு பாட்டி, அப்பாதான் வாங்கிண்டு வந்தா, உங்களுக்கு பிடிசிருக்கா?" என்று ஒரு போடு போட்டு வைத்தேன். மாட்டிக்கொண்டால் துணைக்கு ஆள் வேண்டுமே என்கிற நல்ல எண்ணம்தான். நினைத்த மாதிரியே அப்பாவைப் பார்த்து ஒரு கோபப் பார்வை வீசி விட்டு "ம்ம் இருக்கு, என்ன விலை?" எனக்கேட்டதர்க்கு, நான் 200ரோ/300ரோ, ஏதொ சொன்னேன், எவ்வளவென்று இப்பொழுது சரியாக ஞாபகம் இல்லை. ஆனால் பாட்டியிடமிருந்து அடுத்து வந்த கமென்ட்டை இந்த ஜென்மம் முழுவதும் மறப்பதர்க்கில்லை. "இவ்வளோ காசு வாங்கிண்டு, இத்தனூண்டு துணி தான் குடுத்தானா?, இதுல பின்னால கிழிஞ்சு வேர இருக்கு?, நல்லா விசாரிச்சுதான் வாங்கினியா ?" என்றாள்.

Food, Food and more Food Talk.

2006-07-25T06:54:00.000-07:00

Weekend cooking, Weekday cooking?. Damn, I seem to cook all the time and comment much more than its worth. And this coming from a person who'd come up with outrageous excuses to avoid getting inside the kitchen a few years back. 'இந்த பக்கம் தலைவைச்சு கூட படுக்க மாட்டியா ?' - my lovely mother would complain. Life's changed, so have my taste buds. Over the years, they seem to have acquired a mind and language of their own. No matter how much the pacifist in me tries to assuage it with 'pootadha peysaama saaptu yezhundhu poindey iren' dialogue, it comes up with cripling criticism I've long learnt to live with. Am I same person who couldn't figure out that the rasam had no salt in it and instead wondered what came over my dear mother that she messed the rasam of all?. And now, I can't stand poor cooking in general, let alone the saltless rasam.

Addendum from my taste buds - Vegetables require more patience and exquisiteness to cook, its so easy to botch them. Cabbage/ Okra can wretch the life out of you with its 'kozhak kozhak' or wateriness. That's where the technology comes into play. If you haven't mastered the 'hands me down south indian cooking skills' in utilizing that-that utensils to cook that-that vegetables, put the microwave to good use for god's sake but never pour tonnes of water into the 'vaanali' to 'vegavaikka' the vegetable. Root vegetables - seypangizhangu, karrnakizhangu go through similar unmentionable cooking methods and taste like rubber, raw in the middle and fried like cardboard on the outside. Potato - the blasphemy that takes place in the kitchen cooking it. Half cooked, mashed up, less fried potato should be banned and people, if convicted of such heinous crimes, should be sent on a one-way trip to Baghdad. Tomato - the great rasam ingredient persecuted in the hands of half baked cooks. Apparently used to adjust tastes - less puli, more kaaram, more color - throw the diced tomatos into the sorry mix.

Kootu - the poor dish, vilified and victimized. It would ideally imply a right combination of vegetable, paruppu and spice. When dal is dispropotionately more than the vegetable, and an almost non-existent spice/ condiments mix are added for extra torture, hmm..I hate to say it. But the yellow gooey mix reminds me of something tototally disgusting I woudn't mention in this blog. Worse is when this experimental piece of work is endorsed 'உடம்புக்கு ரொம்ப நல்லது' conciliatary terms.

Sambhar - Never liked them, cannot stand my own cooking when it comes to this. The more patience I tend to exercise, the more it decides to test it. Everytime I look at the finished masterpiece, I'd be reminded of the science experiment, layers of soil. The more heavier particles settling at the bottom, like the paruppu, that I diligently cooked would sigh heavily the minute its added to the mix and settle comfortable at the bottom; the less heavier ones floating on the top, like my spices as though they'll want nothing to do with the sambhar. And the excess water floating on the top, reflecting my sorry face as I disappointedly look into the sambhar. My mother's advice on sambhar's consistency cannot be put to any use. Sometimes I wonder if she does it deliberately to slow me down.

புளி எவ்வளவு போடணும் ? - நீ பார்த்துகோ. ரொம்ப போடாதே புளிக்கும்.

சாம்பார் பொடி எவ்வளவு போடணும் ? - உனக்கு எவ்வளவு காரம் வேணுமோ, அதை பார்த்துண்டு தான் போடனும்.

எவ்வளவு நேரம் கொதிக்கணும் ? - புளி வாசனை போகிற வரைக்கும்.

அது தான் எவ்வளவு நேரம்னு கேட்டேன் - அதெல்லம் ஒரு ஒரு புளிக்கும் வேர வேர மாதிரி. பார்த்து பார்த்து தான் உபயோகிக்கணும்.

பருப்பு எவ்வளவு விடணும் ? - அண்டா நெரைய்யாவா போட முடியும்?, கொஞ்ஜமாத்தான் போடணும்.

பருப்பு எப்போ விடணும் ? - நல்லா கொதிச்சதுக்கு அப்புறம்.

அது எப்பொ தெரியும் ? - கறி-காய்யெல்லம் நல்லா வெந்ததுக்கு அப்புறம்.

பருப்பு விட்டதுக்கு அப்புறம் எவ்வளவு நேரம் கொதிக்க விடணும் ?. - சாம்பார் நல்லா கெட்டியாகுர வரைக்கும்.

ஐயோ!!, அம்மா அதுதான் வரலையே - எல்லாம் உடனே உடனே வருமா?, பண்ண பண்ணத்தான் வரும்.

In the end, as anybody would guess my sambhar would still suck big time.

Finally, all the scrutiny made up for the hunger after reading this post. :))

Starring Madras **** - Stolen from Tilo.

2006-07-21T11:42:00.000-07:00

I am not a big movie fan, although I get to see good ones occationally. One such random pick was Bharadhiraajaa's 'Kadal Pookal'. Shot entirely in a fishing community, its about two fishermen, their lives entwined in sentiments/ friendship and betrayal. I woudn't be exaggerating if I say that one could actually smell the sea in the movie. A movie buff would be better eqipped to give a better 'blue' picture of the sea, the unwritten codes of fishermen lives and their community captured beautifully by the director's camera.

Tilo's post reminded me of a another movie I watched earlier. 'Puthiya Vaapugal' from the same director. The name brought in vague memories of melodious tunes and in the end, it was indeed a rare find. Although the story is a melodramatic run of the mill kind, it was the genuineness of the village that surprised me. A cookgraamam (although it hardly contributed anything to the story-line) that makes a telling presense with its mud homes, thatched roofs, haphazhard lanes and most of all with its dark skin, grease paint free weary looking citizens walking home after a long day's work. [Except for Rati and Bhagiyaraaj who had loads on their faces.] In one shot you could actually see the sewage flowing on the streets. Another gem from this director who captured village life with rare sense of reality would have to be 'Karuthamma'. Again where the green pastures/ birds flocking big screen villages were rubbished with his no-nonsense unconventional approach.

Offlate, a movie that had any semblance of reality as far as its landscape and its people are concerned ('manvaasanai' as bharathiraaja would put it) would have to be 'Kaadhal'. It was fun to watch the movie with my mother who'd exclaim - 'theppakulam, pakathula dhaan yennoda college', 'madurai ivalavu maari poochaa?' or be lost half way into the movie reminiscing on her past.

And yes, I haven't seen Madras as Madras on screen in a while.

King Kong

2006-07-20T13:50:00.000-07:00

One of the worst movie I ever saw on DVD. Why did I even bother to pick it up ?, I don't know. Dearth of sensible movies and an indian store that's 30' away are the only plausible explanations available. If you have no fear for violent creatures, creepy mammals and do not cringe at humans being tortured, this movie is for you. So, go ahead, enjoy, have fun at all the blood and gore splashed generously all through 3 hours of this torture of a movie.

P.S: More gore here.

Nature's Call.

2006-07-20T12:47:00.000-07:00

Ok. Now every tom, dick and harry is an expert on this issue.

"I know also that many of these superfluous blastocysts and embryos will be discarded anyway and so not using them for research does not protect them from extinction."

Almost always overlooked is the fact that not all blastocyts take to life, even in natural cycles without the interference of drugs. Nature is a very demanding master when it comes to embryo development. [Now, how exactly do indians manage to reproduce at that rate inspite of all these odds, beats me.] How many fertilized eggs would you think are being lost in the process of reproduction, irrespective of being carried out in petri dish/ test tube or inside the human body?. Every trial results in atleast a few cells with arrested development which will ultimately be discarded, by nature itself. One small discrepancy in the chromosome count for instance and you end up in an useless messy bundled mass. Afterall, nature is not perfect but being clever as it is, stops developing any further once a flag for a significant trouble is raised.

Clearly, research only augments this process and capitalises on the error margin. For every successful trial, a few cells might have to be discarded, with intervention from nature, not from lack of accuracy in scientific methods. As incredulous as it sounds, it only takes one one trip to the doctor to know that our understanding of the science behind embryo development is tenuous at best. Next time, before you try to placate ignorant fools with 'morally unconscionable' rant, get the facts straight and you'll realise that you're no superman trying to save the human race from extinction.

Idiot

2006-07-11T11:58:00.000-07:00

CNN reports: Indian Home Minister Shivraj Patil said the government had some advance knowledge that such an attack might take place. "What we didn't have was the place and the time," Patil said.

People, next time you plan to sabotage lives & services, please inform this idiot (preferably personally) specifically on place(s)/ time(s)/ how/ what/when/why you want to do it.

Madras மரியாதை

2006-07-11T09:55:00.000-07:00

My mother does not hail from the city. But since moving to madras in the early 70's she gradually lost her accent and by the time I was born, there was hardly any semblance of any accent in her language. But to this date, she still retains her 'small town manners', as she proudly puts it. My father once hilariously narrated how she, as a newly wed, had addressed my 6 year old cousin as 'தம்பி, இங்க வாங்க'. And since she addressed everyone as ' நீங்க/ வாங்க' apparently ignoring any age difference, confusion ensued on whom she was talking about, esp in a household with 25 members aged 6-60. Having had her education in small towns, to this date she still counts numbers in thamizh while I on the other hand detested having to remember ஆயிரம்/தொள்ளாயிரம் in thamizh. Growing up, while my father was content so long as I didn't address him 'dei', my mother always insisted that I address her and my father ' நீங்க'. And an ideal conversation between my father and me would have to be: 'அப்பா நீங்க வர வழியில, என்னை வந்து கூடிண்டு போக முடியுமா?, இல்லை நான் உங்களை கூப்டு, உங்களாள வர முடியுமான்னு கேட்கனுமா ?' contrary to 'அப்பா, உன்னால வர முடியுமா முடியாதா ?'. Needless to say, me being me and much to my mother's annoyance, I preferred the later. 'ஊர்ல எல்லாம் இப்படி பேச மாட்டாங்க' she would disappointedly murmur under her breath. And everytime my thaatha would hover around with his watchful eyes, I'd gladly avoid talking to my parents, lest I be lectured on 'degradation of manners in madras'. But the last time I was at my uncles's place, I was in for a complete shock when I heard his kids address him 'அப்பா, நீங்க', a forbidden dialect that I had for so long fought to keep at bay in my home. Adding fuel to the fire was the fact that both were atleast 10 years younger to me and fellow madrasis. Even before I could recover from the vicious assault, I was getting an earful on 'degradation of manners in madras' all the way back home from my mother.

Related: Here

Syriana

2006-07-05T06:16:00.000-07:00

I liked Traffic. I liked the way random shots on random characters were nicely interwoven to form a complete screenplay half way into the movie. Syriana delves on similar treatment to the story, only the characterization has way too many flaws. A progressive thinking sheikh in the arabic kingdom is overrun by his dumb brother, a puppet in the hands of the oil barons, who in turn help him ascend power with help from CIA. I know, sounds too convoluted. An analyst, a sheik, two oil companies and a CIA operative are the core characters in a screenplay intricately woven with facts bordering on fiction. A minor digression is when a pakistani younster, caught in the ecomonics of mergers/ aquisitions/ conglomerations, takes to radical islam (in an attempt to redeem god knows what). Story is obviously too damning (although its all well known in the west), implicates government/ agencies/ oil companies on energy crisis and ensuing politics. But was there ever a sheikh who's as progressive as portrayed?, do people in saudi (not middle east) take to radicalism because of poverty?. Some questions are still to be answered (Syriana ??), while the CIA abondoning its agent and analyst caught in the euphoria for change and democracy are believable. Konjham jhaasthi, but believable.

P.S # 1: Why are we seeing less and less of handsome and The Talented Mr.Matt Damon?.

P.S #2: Pic courtesy: WarnerBros

Intuitions be damned

2006-07-05T06:05:00.000-07:00

For a minute yesterday I wondered if Germany would manage to score a goal at the n-1th minute during OT. And for a fleeting second, 'what if it happened the other way around?' crossed my thoughts. As usual, after such prescience, my thoughts went astray on other things but soccer. Finally when Italy added insult to injury by scoring yet another goal during OT, I was left thinking 'intuitions be damned'.

(ill)ogic.

2006-06-16T07:25:00.000-07:00

What's with this humane treatment of animals that are apparenly waiting to be butchered for human consumption?. John Makey, the founder of Whole Foods was on 60 minutes the other day. When Dan Rather posed the same, the conversation was on similar lines...

John: Are you going to die someday ?

Dan: ..... Yes .... ???

John: So does the quality of your life before death matters?.

Dan: ??

Now, Dan Rather is not going to meet his end in boiling waters like the lobsters, is he?. You think the lobster would wonder why it was crawling around in cramped space, days after leaving its water world if it knows about its imminent death?. Woudn't it make more sense if it was reasoned that scientifically (??), claustrophobia in animals leads to hormonal changes which in turn affects humans consuming them?. But making life comfortable ?. Hell, drop a few of its tank mates into the boiling water and it'll please the lobster to no end that quite a few shared the same fate as it did.

P.S: I am not against consuming meat. But only against organizations that complicate the simple pleasure of eating what you like.

The Sentimental fool.

2006-06-14T13:14:00.000-07:00

I am no sentimental fool. I don't hold onto the past or loose myself reminiscing in loneliness. However, today this song brought back memories of my uncle sing. He bears a striking resemblance to SPB, both in voice and in girth. Having born as the last of 11 kids, his talent went largely unnoticed and he found solace in singing to the toddlers at home until the day he met a wonderful person who then became his wife. From then on, it was an endless karoake of SPB hits at home. I still remember prancing around while he sung hits from late 70's/ early 80's. Occasionally even though I seldom recognize the lyrics or movie, some tunes instantly brings to memory a familiar melody, ignored for long and lost amidst my chaotic self and a quick sigh "The good old days" escapes me.

Voice of the penguins ...

2006-06-01T08:11:00.000-07:00

ABachan is dubbing for March of the Penguins. Wonder who'd be the perfect fit for its thamizh version.

Pic courtesy: TOI

Food Story

2006-05-31T12:27:00.000-07:00

Looks like I am not the only one to have endured this muttai torture ritual. The story is pretty much the same as Ammani's. Since time immemorial I've been tall and puny, although I don't remember getting sick often. My mother fed me all kinds of concoctions hoping to increase my appetite. My dear father once even threatened to get transferred to someplace else if I didn't change my habits. Needless to say, I've come unscathed through all my persecutions. The worst of it all was when my mother after a casual conversation with my history teacher decided that I had to be fed eggs, albeit in an appeasing manner. The following morning my teacher arrived with her little son (who was only too eager to pop anything edible into his mouth) for inspiration and her home made omelette. But being the person I was then, I practically butchered the omellette into onions/ eggs/ green peppers/ into its all other ingredients - via instructions to my mother. When I finally threw up the morsels I had managed to swallow, my enraged teacher sick of my dodging skills said "4 naal pattini poodunga, thaana saapidum".

The Da Vinci Code

2006-05-30T07:10:00.000-07:00

"Letdown" claimed one critic, "No chemistry between the lead characters" said another, "Journalists greet special screening with hoots and laughs" wrote another portal. With the long weekend ahead and not a single road trip being planned, I walked into an early evening show. Old couples equally impatient to buy the tickets were dawdling around. Some comfort I thought. If the movie turned out to be bad as it was expected to be, atleast there woudn't be any hooting and screaming. With quite a few ahead of me in the line, just as I wondering if I should pick the popcorn with the butter or not, it was announced that the tickets were sold out. My curiosity rose to new heights. Critics slammed the movie and here tickets were sold out?. A minute later I was rushing into the next multiplex. Finally, with the ticket & precious popcorn (without the butter) in hand, I spent the next 2.5 hours watching the "The Da Vinci Code". Ofcoarse the movie does not do any justice to the book and ofcoarse the screenplay skipped a few things here, a few things there. But if it did not, it would be another "The Da Vinci Code" - every Tuesday 7 PM on the History Channel. Whoever felt the lead characters have no chemistry, please this ain't no 'Bridges of the Madison County'. Forget "conspiracy theory", but if you wish to see Silas atoning for his sins, Constantine baptized in his death bed, Sir Teabing explain the mysterious nuances of the "The Last Supper" (thanks to technology and graphics) magically come to life on the big screen, watch this movie in the theatre for sure.

Pic courtesy: IMDB

Live Clive

2006-05-17T08:20:00.000-07:00

My father is an avid sportsfan, my mother, on the other hand, is only too happy to be left alone with her books. I have hardly seen them converse let alone argue about any issue. But the one thing that ignites fireworks between the two - "Cricket". My father can practically survive on that game 24/7 much to my mother's annoyance. Afterall, the poor soul expects nothing more from him, but to finish his breakfast/ lunch/ dinner on time. Her only weapon of provocation is the much debated axiom "11 fools playing and 11,000 fools watching". At the very mention of which, a much peeved father would switch off the TV for good. One day, a few years ago, inspite of all my mother's provocation my father was rooted to his chair watching a broadcast. Abrubtly walking into this situation, I noticed that Clive lloyd was batting and curiously (quite innocently) asked my father "yendha kaalathu gamea paarthundu irukka?". My mother shockingly looked up from her book and said "live game illaiyaa?, meyla livenu potirukkey". My wicked father had fooled her that the recording of a live match was infact live.

Pic courtesy: The Hindu

Capote

2006-05-15T11:21:00.000-07:00

Headlines made out of Holcomb, Kansas on the muder of family of four capture nationwide attention. Cut: New York party scene, Truman holding his glass, vain in pride and absolutely cherishing every bit of attention thrown his way. Cut: In Kansas, Truman and Harper Lee ("To kill a mockingbird") arrive to see how an otherwise obscure town copes with its new found notoriety. Cut: Truman walks into a bemused Alvin Dewey - KBI (Kansas Beureau Of Investigation)'s office exclaiming "from Bergdorf's" pointing to the camel-hair scarf he's delicately wrapped around his shoulders, while Lee talks her way into the local's home. Cut: Killers are apprehended and Truman realises the potential behind penning a non-fiction based on the killings/ killers. Befriending Perry, he spends long hours keenly listening to their stories, everytime promising better legal recourse. Cut: Perry and Hickock's appeals are rejected and are ordered 'death by hanging'. Perry requests that Truman be at his side when he's hanged. Cut: Lee to Truman over phone, 'The fact is, you didn't want to save them'.

Hoffman lives and breathes as Truman Capote right from his attire to emulating the frail lisping speech. When the fragile little Truman turns out to be a callous & shrewd player ruthlessly pursuing his dream of literary greatness - "to revolutionize the way non-fiction is written", Phillip Seymour Hoffman is at his best. Truly, a great actor.

Pic courtesy: Amazon.

Mango Mania

2006-05-10T09:58:00.000-07:00

Sweet news for the mango fool ...

"The Indian wing of DHL even offers a courier service specifically for mangoes, although the United States has long been absent from its list of destinations because of its ban on Indian mangoes. But the ban should soon be lifted as part of a deal struck by President Bush on his March visit to the country....."

So long as my uncle lived in Neyveli, my summer vacations was when the glutton in me surfeited on mangoes and jackfruits diet. The trip back from Neyveli to Madras was usually via Panrotti, the haven for jackfruits. My father would alight the bus in search of the best while my mother and I eagerly await his return with a big jackfruit gingerly placed on his shoulders. Back at home, we'd hoard our secret stash of mangoes wrapped in haystack beneath the sofa. Nosy neighbours drawn by the smell of ripening fruits would make a beeline for our home within a few days. My favorite was the one from vellor area, which I think is the rumaani variety. A small greenish yellow fruit with a rather thick skin enveloping a sweet but fibrous flesh. I had never mastered the art of eating a mango without peeling the skin. My father on the other hand despised the idea of putting a knife to a mango. He's peel the top of the mango adroitly without exposing too much flesh and suck the flesh, right upto the seed. Each time the seed would dance loose in its jacket giving away more flesh. Finally he'd finish this exercise by smaking his lips as he licks the juice trickling from his hands. All the while, I'd jealously look at him with one eye and glance at the mother diligently slicing the fruit using a knife with the other.

Pic courtesy: NYTimes.

Conversation, a lost art.

2006-05-03T09:51:00.000-07:00

I've never been a good conversationist. People tend to mistake mild humor in my emails for gregarious personality. Meeting in person, I am mostly accused of being a snob, moody and hostile. Sparring with words, especially when you get judged based on your skill in repartee, perturb me. I am not aganist ponderous arguments, but tounge-in-cheek raillery or red-meat rhetorics, those send jitters through my spine. South Indian + female gender + laconic = dreadful combination. Needless to say I avoided large family gatherings (marriages and the likes) like plague. Aunts and Uncles have tried numerous times over the years to help me overcome my reticence. And failure on their part actually gives me smug sense of content !!.

Conversation - lost art ?. Surely, this book should be one interesting read.

Humor

2006-05-02T09:06:00.000-07:00

Steven Colbert lampoons the president, his staff and media in the Annual WHCD. How the heck did I miss this one?..

Excerpts:

On Iraq war: "I believe that the government that governs best is a government that governs least, and by these standards we have set up a fabulous government in Iraq."

On Bush: "When the president decides something on Monday, he still believes it on Wednesday -- no matter what happened Tuesday."

I am the decider - "Let's review the rules. Here's how it works. The president makes decisions, he’s the decider. The press secretary announces those decisions, and you people of the press type those decisions down. Make, announce, type. Put them through a spell check and go home. Get to know your family again. Make love to your wife. Write that novel you got kicking around in your head. You know, the one about the intrepid Washington reporter with the courage to stand up to the administration. You know -- fiction."

Video.

Hometown

2006-05-01T13:25:00.000-07:00

I have never had a fantasy hometown to call my own. However, I've had some vicarious pleasures listening to my mother's tales on her childhood spent in Kerala and Tanjore district. In Kerala, in a sleepy little hill top town with tea plantations on every visible slope and dark clounds hanging at every turn, as though a holiday post card just sprung to life. Her home was an old fashioned victorian mansion type complete with a pear tree on the front yard, a cozy fireplace, scores of maids who teased her accent and of coarse a holiday photo with her gamboling pet dog.

Tanjore - home of the music man, famous temple chariot & my mother's paternal grandparents. A big palatial house filled with womenfolks in madisaar cooking delectable food, rambunctious kids playing in the yard and men lost in divine trance chanting sahasranaamam amidst wisps of buring incense. As mundane as it sounds, watching dots of rice flour transform themselves into mindboggling koolams, collecting bowls full of manathakaali from the garden, running along cauvery banks or the temple praharam, sneaking to eat sour flesh from tamarind pods, free movies in kotagai and a bumpy ride on a bullock cart do carry a queer countryside charm to them. And this picture perfect life gets completed with a doting grandfather and a pet to fool around with. Only this time a nameless dog gets replaced by a calf named 'Lakshmi'.

Ohh did I mention my mother's adventure on the mango tree ?. Startled by the sight of her uncle, poor kid decided to climb further up the tree, only to be accosted by a big monkey. Talk of being caught between the devil and deep sea ? :).

Related here.

Good Day and Good Luck

2006-04-20T06:17:00.000-07:00

In this age and time when production values are through the roof with grand visual stimulations that distort the screenplay/ distract the mind, a well made B/W movie such as this deserves more than a hasty glance. A must watch, not for George Clooney or for its silent flaying of politics and media today, but only because it dispassoinately depicts snippets of a certain event in the 50's. Entire movie is dialogue driven, although I dare not say that it undermines the characterization of Ed Murrow or Fred Friendly or the real 'Senator McClellan'.

Yes Senator McClellan. These are his exact words as lifted from senate hearings of '54: "Mr. Chairman, I would like to make this point: We are making statements here against a witness who has come and submitted to cross-examination. She has already lost her job. She has been suspended because of this action. I am not defending her. If she is a Communist, I want her exposed. But to make these statements that we have corroborating evidence that she is a Communist, under these circumstances, I think she is entitled to have it produced here in her presence and let the public know about it and let her know about it........I do not like to try people by hearsay evidence. I want to get the testimony under oath.....I do not think it is fair to a witness, to a citizen of this country, to bring them up here and cross-examine them and when they get through, say, 'The FBI has something on you that condemns you.' It is not sworn testimony. It is convicting people by rumor and hearsay and innuendo."

"Convicting people by hearsay and innuendo" - Is anybody listening?. Imagine the courage and foresight to stand up to reprisals from an overzealous politician like McCarthy. Coming from a land where its raining rice/ television sets this coming election, I cannot hide my sigh as I wonder, will there ever be a politician of this stature or a media that does not give into political whoring back home?.

Pic courtesy: Amazon.

Southern Spice

2006-04-18T13:52:00.000-07:00

Confederate flag, Vote for Bush bumper stickers, Southern Barbeque, dublu-dublu-dubbluu southern drawl were all a factor of my mundane life down south. Ahem ... apparently our dean did not have his church in mind when he piled all 6 kids into his minivan every sunday morning.

Pic: ASullivan.

Satire

2006-04-15T09:44:00.000-07:00

This is hilarious.

And no, no translation forthcoming, some masterpieces are better left as such.

Railways

2006-04-15T07:26:00.000-07:00

Trains have always been my first love, probably because I was practically born next to tracks and lived most of my life listening to trains passing by. As the big brown train crawls its way along the tracks, picking up more dust with every passing mile, one can always catch a glimpse of its exuberant junior passengers vividly chatting or seniors already half way into their pottalam of puliyoodharai. Behold, for the pleasure is not always yours. An empty pottalam might come screaming to your face anytime or worst, puliyoodharai digested colon contents be emptied on the track you are about to step on. :)) Nonetheless, the very mention of train ride have always brought pleasant memories of my childhood wherein my thaatha would take me for a ride from one end of the city to the other, almost on all afternoons. As I sit next to the window pressing my face on the bars trying to catch the view ahead, he'd tell tales, one for every passing station.

As years passed by, most calls to my home were still being interrupted by the shrill horns of Vaigai, Cheran or Pandian. As annoyed as the caller got, my smiling mother with an eye on the clock would quip "inaiki train lateaachey". On bandh days, a huge cloud of uneasy silence would fall upon us. While most sane men would welcome it, we'd typically mourn it like the sudden departure of a loved one. As morning dawns, the faithful would wake up looking forward to the familiar shrill horn. And come it will, sounding even louder after a day of rest, letting us all know that life was back on tracks and so was our beloved train.

Related here.

Roots

2006-04-12T09:47:00.000-07:00

Reminds me. Intrigued by this technology, one of my colleague's father decided to check his real ancestory, allthough he did know that his ancestors were from Denmark. Guess what ??, he was able to trace his his roots to South India .. woudn't be surprised if brown eyes/ blonde hair colleague of mine turns out to be my long lost brother !!! :))

A twist in the tale

2006-04-10T12:34:00.000-07:00

Judas ain't no Brutus.

Weekend

2006-04-10T11:29:00.000-07:00

Finished "Blink". Felt a bit let down as the book dealt mostly with anecdotal evidences on "6th sense". I expected Malcolm Gladwell to demystify the term but instead he only got me more convinced on its existence. Moral of the story: I am back to square one, as usual skeptical of my other-me's devious designs.

Watched "Sudesi". After a long time, I had hoped to give my grey cells a weekend off and enjoy some simple pleasures onscreen. Afterall, captain's "Matrix" style stunts & "Sherlock Holmes"ian antics in hunting down pakistani terrorists are wholesome fun for the tired soul. Instead I got an earful of idealistic propaganda. It was fun nevertheless. Only, it CAN get more hilarious. Envision this: Captain gets elected unanimously, hands down, his being the only party with absolute majority. Sort of George Orwell's 'Animal Farm" coming to life??. I really hope I live to see that day !! :)).

Got tired of jumping through the mountains of trash in my apartment. Entire Sunday, drove other me nuts, nitpicking on a spot here, a spot there. Finally after 3 hours of back breaking clean-up, there I was, engrossed in the perfection of it all. But alas, in a moment of weakness, other me had quietly sneaked behind my back, the next thing I know, a whole packet of turmeric lay spilled on the sparkling clean/ spotless white vinyl counter-top. :O.

Serves me right huh ??!!.

2006-04-04T13:32:00.000-07:00

What's next?. TN Election analysis ? :)), now that the TV has been fixed?

Madras Musings

2006-04-03T11:07:00.000-07:00

For close to 10 years, all through schooling and college, I commuted from one end of the city to the other. An adventure involving trains, buses and the ubiquitous 'natraja service'. In short, an occasional pleasure trip for some was indeed my staple 'commute' diet. Weekday mornings were synonymous with marathon sprint for the train station to catch the 7.15 train. A quick hop into the train ahead of the crowd, not as easy as it sounds but rather an art I perfected over the years would ensure that I prized 'the' coveted spot near the entrance.

After two uneventful stops near the airport, a torrential wave of passengers would pillage through compartment at nanganaloor, transforming diligently pressed uniforms & polished shoes into rags reeking with sweat & footprints marker. Adding insult to injury, the vendor whom you had politely refused earlier would now shove her wicker basket your way, bruising ankles or elbows. A slight sign of disapproval, as innocuous as a 'sigh' would triger a tirrade of மெட்ராசு பாஷை அர்ச்சனை. Amidst this whirlpool of confusion, alighting would be another excercise in futile. Usually by the end, I'd come out more enlightened on subtle nuances of pranayama & power yoga :).

After years of rotting in second class, finally came the time when I was promoted to first class. Little did I fathom on was lay ahead.

During rush hour, less fortunate ones caught between the wheels and tracks would be usually loaded into first class, on a stained stinky gurney. Archane law that accident victims should only be treated in government hospitals ensured free ride for them all to Egmore, a drive without first aid or qualified caretaker and needless to say, half way through, most of them perished. More than once I've been caught offguard with the gruesome sight of bleeding body parts, slow death. Ofcoarse, I slept less on days and almost never walked by the tracks the following morning.

Memory is short, over time filters out the unpleasant ones. It wouldn't be long before I sprint yet again towards the station for the 7.15 train. As I run along the tracks, my mother's words of caution "tracka thaandaadha, flyoverla poo" would feebly echo through my train of thoughts.

Related here.

2006-04-03T07:15:00.001-07:00

Cafes in Plaza Nueva: Breakfast in Plaza Nueva is a must. Grab a seat, order breakfast. Watch the tourist crowd mull around trying to find a table. While the lone women in the corner stares at her book from behind her dark glasses, a duty bound dad seated beside helps his son with his cigarette. As you set aside the local map diligently picked from the info booth and the guidebook that you had hurriedly borrowed from the library, the waiter unloads the morning coffee gently on your rattling table. Off comes the warm croissants, kneaded in butter, baked at the strike of dawn, now stacked neatly on a plate alongside the melting butter. Then ofcoarse the orange juice, strange as it may look, served in a flute glass. Its a wonderful combination, frothing coffee in a steaming cup puckering your taste buds fresh from the morning mouthwash ritual & the smell of oranges tingling your nostrils as you gulp the freshly squeezed cold juice. Boot polishers pass by, clutching their work table/tools, stealthily sneaking around for that first sight of the dull leather, you quickly tuck your feet, praying he shouldn't pounce on them. By now, its warm but balmy and you dig into your rucksack for sunglasses. Next to you, an elderly group chat excitedly as they drag the steel chairs on the cobbled plaza. Greetings are being exchanged in strange languages all around and conversations rise to a mild crescendo. Gradually amidst the hullabaloo, you are enraptured at the simple joy of it all. Locals hurriedly walk past the plaza, sipping coffee, clutching the newspaper/ shoulder bag, leaving you wondering what you had missed back home and a fleeting thought that you hadn't thought about work, deadlines or emails in the last few days crosses your mind.

And you realise that life (with vacation that money can buy) is at its sublime best !!!.

2006-04-03T07:15:00.000-07:00

Fareed said pretty much the same, last week on the 'The Daily Show'.

Food Finds, Spain

2006-03-28T07:04:00.000-08:00

If you thought I practically starved in Spain given the propensity for spaniards to use meat as a condiment, you are wrong :)). And no, it does not mean I survived on இலை, தழை & புல்லு (Salad to be precise) but managed to find some good food around. If you are a meat-eater, skip this post, all you blessed souls can find good food in any remote corner of this world.

MADRID: Restaurants

Breakfast: Croissant & Coffee - Forget the myriad concoctions in coffee/ sizes that confound you, its either with milk/ without milk in regular cafes here. Try "Tortilla" - Not the Mexican version made with corn, this is the Spanish Omelet with onions and potatoes. And please try the freshly squeezed Naranja Zumo, orange juice - I made it a point to drop by the cafe only if there was a Zumex in sight.

1. TAJMAHAL - Indian restaurant, Chueca neighbourhood, Madrid. I went in expecting the regular aloo-mutter, aloo-gobi. Surprise, Surprise .... their Mushroom curry was excellent. I forgot to ask them, but their Red wine (house wine) was hmmhmmhmmhmhmmmmmm. If you are craving for desi food in Madrid, this place is definitely worth it. Moderately priced which makes it even more attractive.

2. PULCINELLA - Italian restaurant, Chueca neighbourhood (Regueros St.), Madrid. Guide books said that this was the Best Italian Trattoria in Madrid & I wasn't disappointed. The appetizer of Grilled Vegetables was awesome. And definitely reserve in advance. They do say 'non-smoking', but non-smoking in Madrid is a farce. Everyone smokes just about everywhere. 2 days in that place & you actually get acclimatized to the smoke.

3. ARABIA - Morrocan restaurant, Piamonte 12, Chueca neighbourhood, Madrid. The decor is great including the waiters dress :). Everyone was clad in namma ooru lungi. Again please make reservation ahead. The Hummus & the yogurt (namma ooru thayir pachadi, neatly heaped in a sea of yogurt & olive oil) salad were superb though I was a bit disappointed with the couscous.

4. MAOZ - Middle Eastern (Veggie) food chain. Very close to Puerta Del Sol & Plaza Mayor in Calle Mayor, Madrid. Try the Falafel & Berenjita (Egg-plant) inside the Pita bread with Patatas Bravas (Potato fries). I even packed some for my return flight the day I left. [Iberian Air somehow classifies Chicken under Veg]. Just walk in & order food. If you are stuck starving for veggie food in Madrid, just hop onto the subway, drop by Sol station & walk over to this place. P.S: They have a branch in South Street, Philadelphia.

Tried none of this, but heard that the Chueca neighbourhood has a 'Bazaar' and 'Asiana' (both serve Spanish/Middle East influenced food). Artemesia came very highly recommended by a co-worker. And La Latina neighbourhood is also supposed to have some good restaurants - 'Casa Botin' - Hemingway's favorite & according to Guiness, the World's Oldest Restaurant .

**************

Snacks:

1. Chocolate & Churro - My TAPAS experience in Madrid was mostly on Churro (doughnut like tubes) & Chocolate. Plaza de Jacinto Benavente (very very close to Plaza Mayor & Puerta del Sol) has a bistro called "Maestro Churrero". Check out their website at http://www.maestrochurrero.com/. Order the basic Churro and a Chocolate - Dip the Churro in the Chocolate & go yum yum yum !!!!

2. Tapas - Means take a bite, sip a drink, have a walk/ take a bite, sip a drink, have a walk ... all through the night. These are mostly bite size food portions. Mostly meat, but sometimes if you are lucky you can get vegetarian food as well. Try TAPASing on Friday nights, you'll be amazed at the crowd hanging out in the plazas & streets. Not just the regular good/bad/ugly girls & guys but the whole family (thaatha, paati, maama, machan, you name it) takes a trip around. Reminded me of 'Kaanum Pongal' in chennai. Most big cities Madrid, Seville, Granada have TAPAS bars open all through the night. Here are a few things to check out:

Patatas Bravas (french fries in a hot sauce)
Patatas Ali Oli (Cold Potatoes with Garlic Mayonnaise)
Berenjenes Fritas (Fried Brinjal) or Berenjenas al Horno (Eggplant baked in the oven)
Pimientos Fritos (Fried Peppers)
Salmorejo Cordobes (Cold Cream of Tomato)
Pisto (Tomatoes, eggplant, pepper and onion cooked with garlic in oil)
Vasu de Gazpacho (Andalusian Gazpachu is Tomato Soup served cold)
Grilled cheese (Queso) with Bread (Small bites taste very good)

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EL-ESCORIAL : Walk around the town & stop by whichever window offers appeasing pastries. I tried Bambas de Trufa & Milhojas de Merengue. Both were unbelievably good.

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TOLEDO: Food in Toledo was very ordinary. Please never, ever order "Veggie Paella". Its boiled vegetables served over Puzhungal Arisi - I practically threw up after the first bite. I was in no mood to experiment, but I did see some decent Pizza places & the ubiquitous 'Doner Kebap' in this city.

Snacks: Santa Tome - Mazapan here is excellent. Sin Rellenos is the basic variety found. Try the ones in Plaza Zocodover & near Santa Tome Church. The local cookie "Toledano" is also good.

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CORDOBA, Restaurants:

1. OLE KEBAB - Middle Eastern restaurant near the Mesquite. Try the Pita Vegetal Con Queso (grilled veggies and Cheese on Pita Bread) & Pita Falafel Con Queso (Falafel with cheese on Pita bread).

2. BODEGAS MEZQUITA - again very close to the Mezquita. Had some very good vegetarian TAPAS items. Also, try the house wine, Pedro Ximenez (P.X.) - Dulce (Dessert) Wine of Cordoba (very very good). Highly recommeded if you are relaxed & interested in sampling Spanish food.

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Snacks

CAFE/ BAR HELADERIA: Across the street from Mezquita. Family run place & the ice creams here were absolutely delectable.

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SEVILLA: In my 12 hours of stay there, I hardly found any time to eat. Yet, managed to taste some pastries in LA CAMPANA in Sierpes - best pastry shop (the guide-book claims so) in Seville.

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GRANADA, Restaurants:

1. RESTAURANTE SULTAN: Ask for the Moroccan Soup Harira (traditionally has Beef in it, but also served without beef) & Tajin Tajin (veggies in some gravy) is ok. Restaurant is in Cuesta Elvira just off Plaza Nueva. Owner is very friendly Moroccan.

2. RESTAURANTE ARRAYANES (http://rest-arrayanes.com/indexen.html) Veggie Briwat - Moroccan Spring Roll was awesome. Main course was so-so. Probably because I had the same the previous night in Sultan. The restaurant is just off CALDERERIA NUEVA (famous for Tea shops).

P.S: None of the morrocan restaurants serve alchohol. All you wine piriyargal are condemned to drink 'Naranja Zumo'.

******************

Snacks:

1. Los Italianos: Awesome icecream shop in Gran Via just near the Cathedral. Try anything & you will not be disappointed.

2. Cafes in Plaza Nueva: Breakfast in Plaza Nueva is a must. Grab a seat & order breakfast. Watch the tourist crowd mull around trying to find a table. While the lone women in the corner stares at her book from behind her dark glasses, a duty bound dad seated beside helps his son with his cigarette. As you set aside the local map diligently picked from the info booth & the guidebook that you had hurriedly borrowed from the library, the waiter unloads the morning coffee gently on your rattling table. Off comes the warm croissants, kneaded in butter & baked at the strike of dawn, now stacked neatly on a plate alongside the melting butter. Then ofcoarse the orange juice, strange as it may look, served in a flute glass. Its a wonderful combination, frothing coffee in a steaming cup puckering your taste buds fresh from the morning mouthwash ritual & the smell of oranges tingling your nostrils as you gulp the freshly squeezed cold juice. Boot polishers pass by, clutching their work table & tools, stealthily sneaking around for that first sight of the dull leather & you quickly tuck your feet, praying he shouldn't pounce on them. By now, its warm but balmy & you dig into your rucksack for sunglasses. Next to you, an elderly group chat excitedly as they drag the steel chairs on the cobbled plaza. Greetings are being exchanged in strange languages all around & conversations rise to a mild crescendo. Gradually amidst the hullabaloo, you are enraptured at the simple joy of it all. Locals hurriedly walk past the plaza, sipping coffee, clutching the newspaper & shoulder bag, leaving you wondering what you had missed back home & a fleeting thought that you hadn't thought about work, deadlines or emails in the last few days crosses your mind.

And you realise that life (with vacation that money can buy) is at its sublime best !!!.

ConEd

2006-03-27T13:12:00.000-08:00

I was driving back home, when I noticed this van painted black pass by & it said ConEd (!!) in bold letters on the side. The effrontery !!!. If only I knew this the minute I signed up for their service, I woudn't be paying electricity bills through my nose.

Bushiva

2006-03-27T08:10:00.000-08:00

Caricature of Bush & Shiva ??. Dear God !!. The pic is more of a cross between naama oor Chidambara Natrajan, Hanuman & Kaali. P.S - ASullivan is pating us all indians in the back for carefully treading dangerous waters. Isn't it odd that both are well renowned for being destroyers ??. The former - of evil, the latter - whatever he deems to be evil.

Pic courtesy: Mid-Day.

Weekend.

2006-03-27T06:03:00.000-08:00

On a movie-watching rampage:

Kanda Naal Mudhal: Leaves you with a familiar touch of screenplay/ characterization. Ahh .. so the debutant director is from Maniratnam's school of thoughts. What happened to PC's camera?, or I'd like to assume that my DVD quality wasn't upto the mark. Story - old wine/ different bottle, screenplay - Collage of maniratman's trademark scenes. Most of all - sit back & enjoy the movie, nothing much to ponder about !!!.

Dishum - thump, thump !! - pounding my head on the walls .. of all the movies to watch - thump, thump !!, Screenplay/ Story - please do let me know when you manage to figure it out.

Oru Naal Oru Kanavu - I knew it, I knew it. Fazil is still in the 80's. Someone please freeze this fellow & donate him to Madame Tussad's collection. Srikanth - interested in watching a puppet show ?, catch this guy's acting.

Thavamai Thavamirundhu - So Cheran decided to take it upon himself to spread the good word on fatherhood .. naah .. I wasn't going to allow Cheran get all presumptous on me. But as always, for the lack of better movies, I had to pick this one. Raj Kiran plays a freakishly idealistic father, defying any of my hopes to catch a glimpse of the mortal in him. Supporting a family of four on a shoe-string budget, won't the protoganist in the least get impatient at the constant pressure to make both ends meet?. Nup, not once in this entire movie does he as much as raise his voice, not when it dawns upon him that his eldest likes to spread his DNA around or even when the other elopes to have a child out of wedlock. But he'd rather take it upon himself to mend relationships with the girl's (one who elopes) family than to render dialogues that are in naakai pudingikaraa maadhiri terms. Yeah well, atleast he's not a poor farmer existing on subsistence farming but a print-press mudhalai. And thus, Cheran decides to abandon presumption for idealism. Toddler dresses cost 500 Rs/ Crackers cost 1000 Rs/ College fee runs upto 50,000 Rs - some 15 years back .. wow .. Cheran needs a good lesson on economics & has got to get out of his obsession for donning the grease paint. Its preposterous when a receeding forehead is hastily updated to fit a college student getup. And next time, please spare the audience on the melodramatics - why is the eldest always the unscrupulous ediot & the anni always blessed without a shred of moral compunction?. Inspite of my best laid plans, I did walk out with a heavy heart. Somehow cheran managed to mess around with my sanity & made me shed a tear or two.

Aaru: Tailor made for the telugu audience. Anyone or any part of the body deemed unfit for use by our hero is chopped off at will & blood flows freely, the fluid mechanics of which are artfully captured on screen. Only saving grace in this entire movie are the characters in the squalid slum. Pretty disquieting to visualize the rueful lifes of people at the bottom of the food chain. Dialogues -$#%$%%$, *&%(%*). I'd strongly recommend this movie to anyone interested in a crash course on madras slang. Trisha - ain't she the modern girl ???. Sticks though the thick & thin of her man's ordeals - in all his beg/ steal/ borrow/ kill/ amputate vendetta. Sun TV Top 10 stlyeaa - Aaru, ratha aaru !!!.

Humor

2006-03-17T12:39:00.000-08:00

"Kaidha, Kasmaalam !!, pullaigalukku oynga distibute panna sonna, inna cape-maarithanam paneetu vandhukeera nee?"

Pic: bbthots, dialogue: Pammal Uvaak Sambhandham.

Street Harassment

2006-03-15T11:56:00.000-08:00

Women in Madrid walk alone. In the wee hours, in the middle of the night, mid-afternoon. Anytime, as far as I know, anywhere. So much that I ventured out late in the night in a strange place speaking a strange language only after having seen them walk alone in pitch dark without any inhibitions. All along my vacation in Spain, my repeated query "Is it safe to go out now?", was usually answered with a nod, a reassuring smile, mostly with utmost disbelief at the absurdity of the question. I cannot imagine the same in India. Not now, not ever - In the less busy parts of it in mid-afternoon, let alone in the middle of the night in Mount Road. Having used the trains frequently at late hours, ~ 9.30 PM after my german class, I was always advised by my mother to travel in the compartment where there were more than 2 men. "If its comes to that" she said, "atleast they'll fight over who gets you first.. giving you enough time to jump out".

Coming back to Madrid, "Aren't they afraid ?" was quickly retorted by "of what?, what's the worst that can happen?, you get robbed?". Really ??, worst that can happen stops with being robbed?. Now that's raama-rajyam.

Related here, here.

And yes, they did not shrug their shoulders but did stop to help, even at the wee hours.

Random Shots

2006-03-14T10:43:00.000-08:00

I know, I just can't get enough of posting pics ...

Palacio De Crystal, Madrid.
Beleive me, that's the serving size.
Ornate door, Royal Apartment, Royal Palace - El Escorial.
El Corte Inglés, Madrid.
Gothic Cathedral, Todelo. Ever seen this before?, (toddler) Christ crucified?
Cathedral, Toledo. San Juan de la Reyes Monastery's courtyard.
A restaurant, Cordoba.
Arab Bath, Madinat Alzahra, Cordoba.
Madinat Alzahra, Cordoba.

Outside the Mesquite, Cordoba.
Ronda-Granada, Train.
Alhumbra, Granada. Pillars supposedly based on the ones in Nacropolis, Greece.

Granada, Spain

2006-03-14T07:07:00.000-08:00

And the fitting finale to this well deserved vacation . Alhumbra, residence of the royalty in the 13rth century. When words fail to express the owe ... pictures come to the rescue. I have just one word - See it for yourself.
Reflections on water, copied some 300 years later by the architechts of the Taj Mahal... Torre De Las Damas - Tower of the Ladies, Palacio Nazaries.
Serene Splendor,
Snow covered peaks of the Sierra Nevada Mountain range in the distance
Filled with springs and gardens,
The moores were in love with water, GeneralLife - surrounded by orchards, springs & gardens. As seen from Plaza San Nicholas at dusk,

Ronda, Spain

2006-03-13T13:54:00.000-08:00

There can never be a bad picture of Ronda. El Tajo canyon, on which sits the sprawling city.
And the home of the brave ... . Plaza de Toros, Bull fighting ring.

Madinat Alzahra, Cordoba

2006-03-13T13:25:00.000-08:00

Madinat Alzahra, home of the Moors, where they once stood tall and proud. When arts /crafts flourished & life was at its divine best, the community spread its wings far and ahead, carrying their knowledge & craftmenship wherever they went. Main gates to the city, imagine a tower on top, where watchful guards kept an eye, as visitors strutted by on horses
The remains of the mosque in this city .. with its courtyard seen in the center flanked by trees .. once filled with orange trees & a spring ..
white & ochre strips,
City built by Abdur Rehman -111, the ruins are stunning. The gates in the distance .. where the king met the dignitaries.
Excavation started some 30 years ago & archeological dept of spain is yet to uncover even 10% of the ruins.

Cordoba, Spain

2006-03-13T10:07:00.000-08:00

Medival quarters/ Jewish Quarters - back in the time, home to the Jewish community. Also called "La Judería" (The Jewry).

Doctor-Philosopher Maimonedes in Tiberiadus Square

Oldest surviving synagogue in europe, built sometime in the 13 rth century. Stunning proof of Mudejar's craftmansip.
Courtyards.
Winding narrow streets .....
Mesquite Arab Mosque, built in the 10th century, a proud symbol of the Omaya-Moorish Dynasty.
Ochre and white strips, you see them everywhere.

The once mosque was converted into a church after the Moors were driven out to the meditteranean.

Toledo, Spain

2006-03-13T09:00:00.000-08:00

Labyrinthine Streets,
Beneath the balcony,San Juan de la Reyes Monastery,

Train Station,
Don Quijote De La Mancha,

Atocha, Madrid.

2006-03-13T08:29:00.000-08:00

Rain Forest in the middle of Madrid?,
Atrium inside the Atocha Train Station, Madrid. Public transport in Spain is awesome, compared to the travesty here in US. It takes just 1 Euro to get to one end of Madrid from the other. I had a great time hopping from one place to the other by bus & renfe (train). Most of the major stations have info booths working round the clock. But communication was tad bit of a problem, esp when I was armed with nothing more than 'por favor', 'si', 'no', 'hablo englis?', 'solamente vegeteriano'. But that's when gestures come to help. Though it might look awkward, as long as it gets the message across, travelling in a strange land speaking a strange language is never a problem.

El Escorial ..

2006-03-13T07:36:00.000-08:00

And the clock struck ... 24.
Archimedes holding the earth ..

El Escorial ..

2006-03-13T07:19:00.000-08:00

Royal Library inside the Palace ... apparently holds close to 40,000 books. BTW: That's the ornate ceiling .....
Archimedes's Universe .. with Earth at the center.

San Lorenzo de El Escorial/ El Escorial

2006-03-13T06:58:00.000-08:00

Royal Palace/ Monastery:
Archives of the Royal Palace library point to a Mirapur in southern india, close to where Madras is right now.. I am intrigued .. was it Mylapore?, Mahabalipuram?. Picture is too murky, but the orange shaded regions point to the extent of the spanish empire in mid 15th century.

Madrid Madness ..

2006-03-13T06:46:00.000-08:00

Curiosity took the better of me when this huge crowd started to swell up in the middle of the night in front of this church. And inside I saw half of Madrid .. at 1 AM ... queueing up to kiss the Lord's feet. Apparently a tradition followed every saturday after Ash Wednesday. First time I saw Christ standing & not crucified, and ....clad in brilliant colors.

Madrid Madness ..

2006-03-13T06:41:00.000-08:00

On the streets...

Satursday's Flee Market finds,
Ended up loosing 20 Euro to pick pocketers amidst the choas. I kind of knew beforehand that these notorious characters target tourists at these places & shrewdly took only a few notes in my pocket.

Its 12 ... midnight, time for churro & chocolate.

Madrid Madness

2006-03-13T06:24:00.000-08:00

Does this city ever sleep ?. Went in for dinner at 8 PM, only to be told that restaurant opens for business only at 9 PM.

I had put in hours and hours of browing, seaching for vegetarain restaurants in Madrid before I was totally vexed finding one. Seemed like I was going to survive on bread and butter for 10 long days, and then I discovered online translation tools.

sólo vegetariano
ninguna carne
ningún pez
ningún beaf
ningún puerco

were all the I needed to get the message across. Worked like a charm the first time. The waiter smartly dressed, all prim and proper, nodded his head in confidence. I started dreaming & drooling, all the while my fellow spaniards feasted on pork & wine. With every passing minute my hunger pangs grew ten folds, Iberian Airlines had messed my dinner earlier & I wasn't going to starve another night. With utmost diligence, I had picked the best italian restaurant in the town from the guide book, no matter how much it costed, I was going to feast like a king.

After a few minutes of doodling on the dinner table, I caught sight of our dinner, steamy hot food, aroma of cooked tomato, eggplant, zucchini & olive oil .... hmmhmmhhmhmhmhmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

All I got that night .. two pieces of baguette & a queer look of the face for dinner.

In picture: Puerta de Alcalá.

Pasando las vacaciones en España

2006-03-08T12:56:00.000-08:00

Cycle gapla Spainla vacation panren .... :)

Favorite food for Madridians - Jamun, Pork in spanish.

Thambi

2006-03-01T09:30:00.000-08:00

Madhavan is fighting tooth & nail to cast-off his 'jhangiri' image. But to portray a radical?. Now that entails getting into the skin of the character, like a Surya in KK. I loved 'Kaakha-Kaakha' - for his stellar performance as Anbhuselvan, IPS. Throughout the first half, anger loomed large in his body language, in short curt dialogues, in his fierce eyes disposed to confidence & even in slight turn of his head. Verbiage dialogues could'nt have done justice to character & hats off to this actor who emulates 'Anger' convincingly.

Getting back to Madhavan, I am not sure what's more stupid than him falling for another thangachi trap. A family of four, true to the slogan naam iruvar, namakku iruvar. By chance the protoganist witnesses a murder on the streets and defying sound advice decides to appear on behalf of the prosecution. In reprisal, his whole family gets massacred. Zoom - Thambi rushes to the perpitrators house, only to see the other humane side of the villian. Meaning a fanfare of family sentiments involving tottering dad, religious mother, a submissive wife and ofcoarse a daughter. [All four cozying living on luxury blood-money can buy] and it dawns upon him that an eye for an eye drives the whole world blind. Instead of wielding the knife in return, he decides to stand in the way of every attempt unleashed by villains on suffering citizens. Nice .. just as you start to wonder if you had misread the reviews, comes the tsunami of tamil dialogues (in the name of Karl Marx, a fleeting mention of Prabhakaran, Communism, Gandhi) rendered without a streak of genuineness for the next 90 minutes. What better way to portray a victim of violence with pugilistic air around him than show his eyes bulging like they'd drop off any minute?. Pathetic, risible to say the least. Forget the women folks, comedy or direction in this movie, I am more at loss for words on the logic in this movie.

Check - 'Kannathil Muthamittal' - at a gathering in Colombo, where Madhavan addresses members of a tamizh sangam, he mouths Sujatha's dialogues preposterously without a semblance of spontaneity - as Arvindh Swamy in Thalapathi. As a friend once said, 'Acham Illai, Acham Illai' - hadn't sounded any less inspiring before, a disgrace bestowed upon Bharathiyar's quote, by reducing it to a mortal drivel. Daft acting & sloppy dialogue delivery was apparently substituted for deftness in handling the character. While such acting from Dhanush can be rubbished as adolescent drama, its high time Madhavan starts getting his act straight & realises that dangling arms, awkward body language, opiate eyes & worst of all uninspiring rendition are poor substitutes for unfeigned roudhram

Witness for the prosecution

2006-02-21T11:50:00.000-08:00

Has there ever be a master-plotter greater than Agatha Christie?. Vivid imaginations are gift of nature. If not for her, a character with so many foibles & yet so perfect - diminutive built with egg shaped head, eccentric & full of pride - persnickety Hercule Poirot, would've never been so adored. Sir Wilfred is a lawered up version of Poirot. Though physically he hardly reminds of him [I am sure the Misseour Poirot would be very skeptical of Sir Wilfred's eating habits :)] but retains Poirot's suttle snide remarks & admirably looses to him in the grey cells department !!.

As much as he likes to deny, Sir Wilfred Robarts is human. Recovering from a heart-attack, he avails the assistance of Miss Plimsoll - to serve up his pills, inject him with calcium (??) & ofcoarse to plan that elusive trip to Bermudas to assuage his worked up heart. And in walks Leonard Stephen Vole, pleads to vindicate him from a criminal charge, for a crime he never committed in the first place. His only alibi - his wife. Charles Loughton (Sir Wilfred Robarts) was at his best. Always at ease in his character, he evokes peels of laughter, especially when he rubbishes Miss Plimsoll's advises.

P.S: Its a heinous crime not to figure out the plot, especially if you claim to be an avid reader of Agatha Christie's - Hercule Poirot.

Citizen Kane

2006-02-21T07:36:00.000-08:00

Can the essence of existence ever be surmised into a single word?, as in rosebud?, when life bereft of love, turns out to be yet another forlorn attempt to chase dreams, power & women. This B&W movie vividly brings out Charles Foster Kane's life in myriad of colors.

Interesting narrative - as it constantly shifts from the past to the present. Screenplay can be construed to be a piece by piece construction of a giant jigjaw puzzle, starting from the demise of - Charles Foster Kane. Finally, towards the end, reflections of him dragging his feet along the ornate but lifeless corridor, smoke arising from a distant chimney in 'Zanadu' & the final scene wherein 'Rosebud' is unravelled are all poignant reminders of man's life steeped in grandiose but quintessentially nothing. In a nutshell, the movies delves on perspectives of life, as seen through the eyes of many & narrated by many more.

Reviews: Here & Here . Pic courtesy: IMDB

Mexcellent

2006-02-16T17:22:00.000-08:00

Today's lunch was in 'Burritoville' on East, 43rd street. Didn't know they were a chain, probably would've have never stepped in if I knew beforehand. Well the lunch was - Mexcellent. I went in just ahead of the lunch rush. With all the time in the world, I picked out the menu listings one by one, pondered on the aesthetics/ tastetics of each, confounded the waiter with my unseemly levity regarding my order, finally sat in oblivion drivelling as my number was called out & a waiter graciously served food to my table. Hell, I was THE only customer.

Next time you are in the city, throw caution to the wind & pick the joint you like. I did .... :). When work - works like a charm & mid-winter temperature hovers around 60F, a small splurge to appease belly rumblings does make your day !!.

Movies

2006-02-15T13:16:00.000-08:00

1. M - Beautiful. Without a single drop of blood being shed, the movie grips you with horror. A raised brow, widened eyes, distant voice whistling the familiar tune was all needed to convey the storyline. Especially when the rotund face enervates with anguish as the prey unwittingly looms nearby, your heart skips a beat & thankfully, morbid details of the murder is left to your imagination. As rightly mentioned in the comment - 'Lang is a master of expressions'.

2. Anatomy of a Murder - Skip the drama if you are an ardent fan of 'Law & Order' series. But worth watching if you are a sucker for courtroom drama's like me. [Perry Mason caught my imagination early on. I got bored of him pretty soon, partly because my fascination with 'rigor mortis' died in due course & I got tired of him hitting on women] Movie is nevertheless enjoyable, especially if you give them the credit for setting the stage for the 'deluge' in that genre [You can't handle the truth]

3. North by NorthWest - Story was a huge letdown, though adeptly directed by Hitchcock. Cary Grant carries this movie with great flair even when the 'suspense' part is pitiable at times. [One of the early movies shot in the UN? .. hmm .. Trivia - I was visiting the UN today and the guide even pointed to the spot where the great Alfred Hitchcock stood as he filmed a scene inside.] With all its pitfalls, Hitchcock manages to finish the movie with his trademark twist. Worth watching just for the end.

more to come ...

Humor

2006-02-15T08:14:00.000-08:00

Suttufied from the comment section in Lazy for this post

2000 B.C. - Here, eat this root.
1000 A.D. - That root is heathen. Here, say this prayer.
1850 A.D. - That prayer is superstition. Here, drink this potion.
1940 A.D. - That potion is snake oil. Here, swallow this pill.
1985 A.D. - That pill is ineffective. Here, take this antibiotic.
2000 A.D. - That antibiotic is artificial. Here, eat this root

Thanks SMK.

And here.

2006-02-14T13:13:00.000-08:00

This reminded me of a 'conversation' I once had with my father. The topic was 'Dravidian movement' & its profound effect on him while still in school. After a prolonged argument, he said "most these fellows (as in DMK/ DK) have absolutely no idea about its core values/ yaaraiyaavadhu kooptu dravidamna yenna keylen, oru payalukkum theriyaadhu !!". A book written by him on the dravidian movement would probably clear the mist in my head. Frankly its time we stop KK & his cosseting cronies shove their dravidianism down our throats.

The Tipping Point

2006-02-13T12:38:00.000-08:00

Picked from Sujatha's "Katradhum Petradhum", this book jolted me out of my chair warming/ uninspiring/ mundane life. After a long time, I read something I really liked. Triggers behind epidemics - ebbing of crime in NY subways, frenzy behind fall fashions, suicide patterns in remote Micronesia are some of the interesting snippets from life explained by Malcolm Galdwell. Even Abu Ghraib - the chilling effects of prison on the human mind finds context in this book, first released some 6 years back. Earlier, I had failed to grasp what exactly captivated the attention of my 1.5 year old niece in 'Tellitubbies', especially the rather gross looking (famously termed as being gayish by Pat Robertson) creature repeating green, green every day, 5 days a week. Now, I think I can tolerate her mumble words from cartoons a hundred times a day, with different enunciations each time, so long as it stimulates her imagination !!.

Of all, I think I kind of understand my fetish for smoking. In complete contrast to my grandfather's rather disciplinarian lifestyle were his brother'(s) & yet they co-existed in complete harmony. Back in those days, I'd sneak out, intrude upon their afternoon 'oodhara' ritual with a wicked "thaatha varaa" & gleefully watch them stub out their cigarette in shock & respect. I am pretty sure that the old man was well aware of this ritual & yet choose to ignore it. I took his apathy for endorsing the habit & the temerity to defy norms of the household was 'cool' to me. One ill fated attempt to blow a puff off an imaginary cigarette turned into a disaster with my father beating me black & blue. Growing up and being the rebel that I used to be, my friends & I mustered the courage to buy a pack/lighter, only to be promptly dissuaded from proceeding any further by some 'pazhams'. The constant nag to finish that attempt in grandeur (as in smoking in circles) is still there, but everytime I walk past a cloud of cigarette smoke, "this stinks like hell" - fleeting (nonetheless) overwhelming thought prevails.

Unfortunately, while smokers are cool, smoking isn't.

The Silver Spoon

2006-02-08T07:44:00.000-08:00

This morning on NPR's Morning Edition, winter drive was underway. 'The Silver Spoon' was being offered as a complementory gift for a contribution of 150$ or more. This 'culinary bible' first published almost 50 years back in italian has over 1200 pages, 2000 recipes & only recently been translated into english. [Reminded me of Samaithu Paar, its indian counterpart]. If cue words like 23 kinds of risotto or florentine 'T' bone steak intrigue you, this is the book to buy. One person interviewed said that, back then, no new bride would dare to leave home without this book. While Silver Spoon has (regional specialities) recipes from all over Italy, samaithu paar's recipes conforms exclusively to brahmin cuisine.

Pic courtesy: Amazon.com

Humor

2006-02-07T13:37:00.000-08:00

Here

Paramasivan

2006-02-06T10:43:00.000-08:00

Ajith - *
Laila - *
Vasu - *
Prakashraj - Paridhaabham.
Story/ Dialogue/ Direction - *

* Sometimes, somethings are better left unsaid.

Handwriting

2006-02-03T07:14:00.000-08:00

The projectile was aimed at me. Rudely awaken from the slumber endured during any thamizh class, I got on my feets agitated, realising that, that very second, I was the cynosure of all eyes. Underneath a banyan tree on a torrid afternoon, it was for the first time that an answer sheet came flying to my face. Shocked and pertubed, I held my head low in indignation. To be admonished in that fashion was certainly the first and thankfully the last. "Kozhi kirukal yellam yeppadi padikaradhu?" came the next blow. Ahh so it wasn't my answers, it was the handwriting. But Kozhi kirukkal ??. I slowly picked it up and nervously glanced through the sheets. With tears swelling up in my eyes, all I could see was 'kozhi kirukkal' written all over it. Thamizh class turned into an unendurable burden from then on. Thirukurals disquieted me. Memory by rote was never my turf & memorising kural starting in 'thi' or ending in 'tha' was not exactly challenging. Acknowledging, let alone appreciating nuances of Aganaanooru & Puranaanooru became a distant dream. Coming from a home where my father rarely addressed my mother by her name ['saapidalaama?', 'velliyila poittu varen'], I couldn't fathom the torments of the thalaivi with the thalaivan fighting the war. On the other hand, my wars were mostly contained to not flunking in physics & getting my theorams right.

Whenever I come across a well written column in thamizh, I invariably ponder on the handwriting of the author. Would it be neatly spaced gundu gundu tha and kha with the proper indentations or would it be 'kozhi kirukkal'?. Did it matter?, Did his/her answer sheets ever come flying in the air?.

Pcch ... I wish she never threw the answer sheet that day.

2006-02-02T11:03:00.000-08:00

Good reads - here, here.

2006-02-02T09:42:00.000-08:00

Maybe, the voyeuristic tendencies forced us ...., maybe as journalists we focused on the pictures to the absence of all else.

Maybe??? ... . Remember this?.

Diarios de motocicleta

2006-02-02T06:37:00.000-08:00

I don't want to jump into the fray with my two cents on this movie - about two men coming of age. I'd rather point out the scenes that were eventually etched in my memory.

1.The trek. Someday I plan to go to South America (definitely not in a motorcycle though).

2.Machu Picchu -

Breadthtaking. Three cheers to the cinematographer, Eric Gautier.
When Granado suggests that he could marry an indian, become part of the tribe, teach them to vote & eventually help them govern themselves, Guevara asks ''Revolution?, without arms?, that never works". A young medical student with no signs of being impoverished, talks about armed revolution in an indian settlement. No more convincing than a Michael in 'Yuva'.
Scene where Guevara remarks "and how did a generation that built this (camera zooms into Maachu Picchu), be enslaved to build this?" (camera zooms into Lima).
Wry Humor- An indian boy points out to the ruins of a wall built by the Incas and exclaims 'this was destroyed by the spaniards, we call them Incapaces' (meaning incapable).
What happened to the puppy?. It disappears the minute the two set foot on Maachu Picchu.

3. The Leper colony - Brought back memories of lepers assembled in Meenambakkam station. With fingers shrunk to half their size, some would even struggle to pick food with their hands. And a day before Thirusoolam station came into existence, they all disappeared, just like that.

4. Most of all, a smashing Gael García Bernal :). Che Guevara was good looking too, if interviews with the real Alberto Granado are any true.

Humor

2006-02-01T06:20:00.000-08:00

Jon Stewart is a genuis. If this (Click on the video in the link) isn't hilarious, I don't know what else is.

No !!, I rescind my assertion. This is even more hilarious.

Weekend - 2

2006-01-30T14:06:00.000-08:00

1. The Third Man:

From this, I picked 'The Third Man' for this weekend. Though the movie started with a high note, it was a tad bit longer towards the end & I had to ignore the constant urge to use the >> button. Worse, once the cat was out(?), so was the suspense. Interestingly some scenes were prelude to some of the best & worst to come:

a.Sequences inside the tunnel - over the years improvised in Harrison Ford's 'The Fugitive'.
b.Climax - For a movie made in the 40s, when emotions could have been expressed in verbatim, kudos to the director who decided to make it subtle. Kamal botched it in 'Kurudhippunal' with his much loud acting and dialogues screeming 'make me the martyr'.
c.Background score - Now we know who inspired Harris Jeyaraj in Ghazini. As dialogues taper off, the cacophony starts.
d.German dialogues - Personal !!. All those years in Max Muller Bhavan finally paid off.
e.Pity that women in the big screens are/were characterised to be dumb, even in the 40s.

2. Monty Python and the Holy Grail:

ROTFL ??. Guess not. Though I did get tickets for Spamalot this weekend, after watching the movie & realising that the humor hardly evoked any laughter from me, I decided against going. Love for David Hyde Pierce's [Fraser] sense of humor was overwhelming but not coercive enought to drag me to the show.

Weekend

2006-01-30T06:21:00.000-08:00

I walked, walked & walked like a toddler with a new found independence. In the end I had covered almost 20 blocks. A warm evening in the middle of winter does not deserve any less.

First visit - MoMa. Half of upper west side was inside the building. New Yorkers never cease to amaze me with their fashion sense. Amidst elegance, you could spot specimens - standing out for their apparent lack of clothing. Yeah well, Pixar collections were intriguing. Painting & sculpture collections - interesting. I had already seen some of Rodin's collection in Philadelphia Museum, nevertheless it didn' hurt to see them once more. Picasso was at his sublime best. Rummaging through, I found Paul Cezanne's works. Hadn't heard of him before (pardon me!!) but I might actually check out his art again. An overrated Henri Matisse's Moroccans drew large crowds. Apparently inspired by his stay there - it was nothing more than a random & abstract depiction of all things connected to morocco - turbaned man, angled windows, domes & dark alleys. In all, I can never understand the obsession with nudity. Be it paintings or sculptures, crass sketches are disgusting & should never be compared to the masterpieces in Lourve. Some art fans were gingerly avoiding such exhibits & I was left wondering whom the gallery was trying to impress. The Photography section was absolute thrash. Only an old photo of a Negro Church in South Carolina - a ramshackle of a building with the customary cross on top, caught my attention. I was looking for some notes on its history and coudn't find any. Then came some old pictures of Grand Canyon. Nice, but with persistence one could find the same on the internet. If you're in to see visages of life from early 20th century, a big disappointment awaits you. I hurriedly walk past some 'nudity in the name of art' pieces to the next section - Architechture. P.S: Not as bad as Gugenheim :). Exhibits included crudely assembled mantle pieces, fish nets inevitably tangled to give that artistic look, oddly shaped wooden chairs, uninspiring glass tumbler, specimen dish from 1947 & a helicopter precariously hanging over the escalator.

For a whopping 4$, I settled down with a very good cafe latte at the 2nd floor cafe. Looking around I realized that MoMa could very well survive on its exorbitantly priced cafe, if charity from its patrons were ever to run out. After that well deserved break, reminiscing on good, bad and the ugly, I was out in the streets wandering yet again.

Tkts, Tkts, Tkts in Times Square caught my attention. Tried my luck in vain for 8 PM 'The Producers' broadway show. (Nathan Lane and Mathew Broderick seem to have moved their camp to 'The odd couple'). Time for dinner and Lebanese cuisine beckoned me. I decided to check out Le Rende Vous Cafe. I was incredulous as it seemed like a bar from the outside, fortunately it was rather spacious on the inside. After a sumptous Veg Sandwich, best ever in years, I was back on the streets. A stranger thrust a handout for 'The Improv Comedy Club' into my hands near Times Square. I enquired more, only to learn that it was loosely based on 'Whose line is it anyway'. Now that would have been a perfect finish to a perfect day !!. I was tempted, but didn't want to be hoodwinked by '2 drinks allowed' on fine prints & decided to read the reviews before I took the plunge. Finally found my way back to the metered parking & as I drove past 53rd street, I saw a long serpentine queue under a neon board flashing 'The Improv Comedy Club'. Tough luck.

New York, New York !!!!. Had a blast, looking forward to another evening of warmth, food and fun !!

Wiretapping

2006-01-27T11:24:00.000-08:00

Article 38:

The freedom of communication, and mail, telegraphic, electronic, and telephonic correspondence, and other correspondence shall be guaranteed and may not be monitored, wiretapped or disclosed except for legal and security necessity and by a judicial decision.

U.S Constitution ?. Nup, Iraqi's !!. Read the entire text here.

Qawwali

2006-01-27T07:26:00.000-08:00

I remember Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan for different (notorious) reasons altogether. Back then, I was just another gawky teenager, obsessed with 7.15 AM train, 21E and physics. In that age and time, a cherubic Nusrat singing 'Afreen, Afreen' to a certified eye-candy Lisa Ray, semi-clad in white & pomposely parading on the desert sand, signalled the advent of MTV and glamour, albeit via a crappy transmission. A quick rebuke from my mother 'yenna kandravi idhu?', threw cold water on my wide eyed enthusiasm and sadly, qawwali lost someone who've have become a greatest fan one day.

P.S: Googled Afreen, Afreen. Meaning ~ 'beautiful'. Lyrics are by our very own Javed Akthar.

It's all in the name.

2006-01-26T12:03:00.000-08:00

I was haggled in school to change my first name to something utterable. Almost all chinese do that, adopt a Christian/ English name followed by Wu/ Zhen. Attempting to pronounce my name was a spectacle, nothing short of a SpellingBee contest. Only it was played the other way around. Anyway, our secretary, for a while, had a real tough time with this. She'd display abject fear at the very mention of it, envisaging a 'Vsiezlaus' or a 'Vyskrebenets' one might encounter in the grand-slams. One day, she strutted by to remark, 'you know, you actually look like a Laura'. My mind went racing - Laura? What Laura?. She noticed my bewildered look and exclaimed 'Laura, my friend. She's tall, like you'. I couldn't care less, but I wasn't the one to fall for this ruse. From then on, it had become my sole mission to make alteast one soul pronounce my first name right, before I moved lock, stock & barrel from the south. Starting from Video, I made her replace one syllable after the other until finally I got her to pronounce 'Vidya'.

And today, I was on the call with my insurance. After re-routing the call to all departments including the janitor, I was finally entrusted to 'Claims'. Once the mundane introductory part (SSN, Address etc) was over with, there came this brief pause. I said 'yes, that's me'.

Humor

2006-01-25T13:45:00.000-08:00

A Sardarji acquired two highly pedigreed dogs. He was proud of them and took them out to the park when he took his evening stroll. One day another walker accosted him and asked: “Sardarji, your dogs are beautiful: what have you named them?” Sardarji pointed them out in turns and replied: “This one is Titan, this one Omega”. Strange names for dogs: remarked the other, “Why have you named them after brand names of watches?”

“Because they are my watchdogs,” replied the Sardarji.

Sutufied from here.

Lucky Numbers

2006-01-25T12:39:00.000-08:00

Surely didn't expect this from Karan Thappar.

Personally I don't see any significance in any number associated with me. Starting from my birthday to probably the amount on my first paycheck, any hint of coincidence is risible. At home, my parents seldom hedged their bets on astrology/numerology or any other logic defying -logy. While my father hardly spent his little grey cells musing on these, my mother, on the other hand, preferred not to entertain such thoughts. I personally do not debunk these beliefs as myths, only sometimes its all too coincidental to ascribe any definite meaning. Unintentionally however, I have transgressed the divine line quite a few times. :) My first bike was black, first day in college was 'ashtami' and I paid my first sem fee during 'raagukaalam'. Not that any of these endangered me or stultified my ever rising stardom !!!.

Would I do the same again, given a chance?. Probably not. :)

The X-Files

2006-01-25T07:06:00.000-08:00

This brough back memories of X-Files.

As a school kid, Wednesday's 10 PM were exclusively reserved for watching 'The X-Files' - my first little peek into science fiction. FBI Detectives Dana Scully played by Gillian Anderson and Fox 'Spooky' Mulder by David Duchovny were two fiercely independant individuals from completely contrasting school of thoughts. While Gillain analyzed from a purely scientific point of view, David was more open to the 'unfathomable', be it urban legends, paranormal phenomenons or extra-terrestial beings. Verbal sparring between the two, eruditely vindicated beliefs from both ends of the spectrum, which was thought provoking for a kid of my age back then. And to much delight, the lead characters kept their relationship platonic, all the while when episodes spanned from conspiracy to mythology. I finally scratched 'X-Files' off my 'must-watch' list when, over time, creepy replaced spooky, episodes lost creativity & malevolence ran rampant in plot. Although my fascination with the science part remained undettered, mundane activities such as opening my closet & sleeping alone in the dark became daunting tasks. :)

I remained a loyal 'X-Files' fan until I heard of the hoopla on the movie. Alas, the gossip took unimaginable proportions, not on the plot but rather on the proposed kiss between Scully and Mulder. And that's when I secretly cursed 'You too Brutes??' on Chris Carter, creator of the series.

Why did he ever had to take the much trodden path ???. P.S: The truth is out there !!!!

Satire

2006-01-23T08:57:00.000-08:00

Bitterly wit peek into a terrorist mind.

'As you can see, our enemies are given to ignorance. They refuse to admit that joy, and all that springs or derives from it, represents the greatest danger to our people. You who can comprehend things should know that joy is a contagious disease. What will happen to the sons of this Islamic community if they all catch the fever of joy? This bridegroom in Amman whose wedding we destroyed, and his family: did they not stop for a moment to ask how we could give ourselves to joy when Palestine is occupied and Jerusalem is not yet liberated? How can we listen to music while our people in Baquba and the Anbar province are exposed to the noise and the attacks of the Apache helicopters? How can we rejoice while the Egyptian government manipulates elections? How can we celebrate a wedding in a hotel when the rights of Arabs are violated everywhere, when France prevents Muslim girls from donning the veil and the headscarf? How can a believer treat himself to a wedding, and to the pleasures of the wedding night, in the shadow of the desperate conditions that prevail in our Arab nation?

We cannot permit ourselves to tire or to give up before this nation recognizes that joy is our enemy, that explosives are our constitution, that Zarqawi is our leader, that grief is our goal, and that destroying all manifestations of pleasure is our mission.'

Read the entire article here.

Roger Federer

2006-01-23T08:25:00.000-08:00

This forward has been lying in my inbox for long, until today I finally overcame my lethargy to read it. No doubt that Federer is a complete tennis star. Esp his US Open match with 'The Magician' Fabrice Santoro was a treat to watch, though Fabrice eventually lost it. As he put it 'I couldn't have done any better than this'. But I was terribly disappointed with Federer's finals game against Agassi. Every so often, he played the azhukku game of hitting aces to bail him out. That's what Roddick is for, we don't need a Federer to do the same.

Dhoni's Dhamakka !!

2006-01-23T07:21:00.000-08:00

I am no expert in Cricket, neither am I ignorant. I just can't keep my facts straight :). Thanks to my nonchalance & my father, who never taught me the intricacies of the game. When I read a good column like this or peruse thought the statistics intersperced as in here, I wish I had something more to say other than 'outaa appa ???' or comment more on Sachin's cover drive, throw in nicknames like 'The Wall' & 'The Pigeon', muse on Dhoni's dhamakka ....

Leno's picks

2006-01-20T07:58:00.000-08:00

Albert Brooks movie - "Looking for Comedy in the Muslim World"
Bush's movie - "Looking for oil in the Muslim World"

Cheney is worried - New Study indicates that an incompetent boss increase chances of heart attack by 37% .

Food for the thought - 2

2006-01-20T06:43:00.000-08:00

Its interesting that most (historical or not) traveller's paradise are besotted with one problem or the other. Egypt/ Turkey/ Israel are all great venues to learn history and view some mindblowing architechture. But I'am apprehensive on their internal unrest. Lest I be beheaded in a strange land. :). Srilanka/ very own Kashmir - apparent nature-buff's havens are crippled with security issues. South America - not so sure what to expect.

That leaves Europe/ Australia. I loved Italy & France. I went with absolutely no expectations & lingering doubts on survival. Me being a big rice fan, I wasn't sure if I could pass on 3 weeks nibbling on Pasta/ Pizza. But France was surprisingly tolerable, since their menues were mostly borrowed from Italian cuisines. One cannot ask for more with their platter full of cheese, great wine & a polite 'Bon Appetite' for the finishing touch. They've got some awesome pastries in Paris's Jewish quarters. (Double whammy since I was there around christmas time). And the chocolate crepe is to die for. Italy was the best - gluttons paradise. Florence, Rome, Venice -you name it, its got the looks and the cooks. :) I've heard the same about Greece.

My choice of travel spot - eclectic mix of architechture/ food/ history, poona pogatum some nature. :)

P.S: I took the bait and tasted Thai and Indian in France. :)

Cricket

2006-01-19T13:24:00.000-08:00

Funny,

As Sehwag pounded boundaries on the off-side, Sami, after one of his deliveries, came close to the batsman in his followthrough till he uttered :seedha khel sakta hai to khel (play straight if you can). Sehwag, never at a loss for a word or a stroke, said, tu seedha to phek (only if you could bowl straight).

Read the article here.

Food for the thought ...

2006-01-19T10:12:00.000-08:00

I've decided to indulge in some vicarious pleasure, in lieu of obsessing on surgery induced loss of appetite. Here goes the list on some of the best food i've tasted.

1. South Indian - Pretty much the same anywhere. I judge it by how much it costs than taste. 'Pillaiyar Kovil', Flushing, NY - Right choice for easy on the wallet/ tasty food. Sometimes their fried dishes (esp lenthil based) are not great, but forgivable considering some of the other choices they offer. I don't have a sweet tooth, but find their halwas irresistable. I don't remember the name now, but ate in a small resturant in Jackson Heights sometime back. For 6 $ buffett, they had some awesome vegetarian dishes. Saravana Bhavan in Toronto was good, for the price it offered.

2. North Indian - A decade and a half ago, I had this rare oppurtunity to cross TN border :), and rejoiced in the culinary experience of eating in dhabhas in Punjab/ Chandigarh. While a chappati costed 10p, a side dish (typically served in pottery) was 10 Rs. In NJ, Galaxy in Edison offers excellent 'channa batoora'. My scale in grading a good n.indian restaurant - judge their channa masala. In so far, its the best here.

3. Indo-chinese: No commendable experience here, but 'Cardomam' in NYC was good. But their offering amount is shrinking by the day.

4. Thai - A friend of mine had recommended one in Ashville, NC. Him being a Nalan's descendant, we decided to check it out. After a laborious drive along Blue Mountain Parkway and all its sister terrain, we finally ended up in 'Bangkok' (i think). Boy, was food good !!. We hogged like pigs.

5. Mexican - Still searching. I was under the impression that SC offered good mexican food, until I tasted 'the mexican' in El Paso, TX. Since then I've raised my bars.

6. Italian - Italy. Period. Do not get conned into the blasphemy Westeners commit in the name of 'Pizza'/ 'Pasta'.

Offall, dear me's rasam and a vegetable makes my day !!. More to come :).

Humor

2006-01-19T07:03:00.000-08:00

Bush, Clinton, Kerry - Were all ripped to shreads by Jay Leno yesterday. His best: Pic: Reconnaissance mission to Pluto - Bush has finally found his weapons of mass destruction :). It was one of those evenings when I was glued to the idiot box & ended up watching Stephen Colbert's Report, Jon Stewart's Daily Show and finally Jay Leno's Tonight Show.

Andrew Sullivan was on Stephen Colbert, had to face 'why did you choose to be gay ?', which evoked nothing but laughter. Not in the smirky/ deriding tone (ASullivan thinks the same, here), but with an openess of self-effacing humor. Reminded me of the desi accented 'Thank you, come again' comment in Harold & Kumar go to White Castle'.

P.S: Pat Robertson/ Ray Nagin, are much more entertaining that our very own Ramadoss. :)

Pic courtesy: WPost

Sunday Sentiments

2006-01-18T12:51:00.000-08:00

This should be one interesting read.

Excerpt: in one of the cartoons, a politician is sweating before appearing in front of Karan. The make-up woman consoles him saying, "Don't worry sir, he will hardly give you a chance to speak".

How true !!.

Beasts

2006-01-18T12:04:00.000-08:00

My father should be one proud man to see this pic. A true hands-on guy, he preferred (still does) machines to man, and hated (still does) paperwork. When they finally asked him to head the Marketing Dept, he came home with a big 'ughhh' written all over his face. Very reticent persona, he'd rather listen to bikes speeding & motors whirring. A project still dear to his heart, 'Fury' - manufactured eons ago.

As long as we lived in flats, come rain or shine, he was fastidious abt oiling the motor, cleaning the pumps. With his crumpled clothes, greasy hands & quite demeanor, it wasn't long before other flats offered to take him on their payroll as 'flat mechanic' :), ob mistaking him for one.

Pic courtesy: Hindu

Kalachakra

2006-01-17T12:59:00.000-08:00

'Spiritual attainment for some is material gain for others'.

I heard this first in last night's 'Daily Show' - Rob Cordray's - 'This Week in God', as expected he had a few caustic comments on westeners understanding of spiritualism.

Hindu writes Amaravathi, a town with hardly 3,000 dwellings in a three-kilometre range and occasional visitors to the ancient temple and the nearby Dharanikota, a holy Buddhist site. The Tibetans and other Buddhists are here on a spiritual mission of attaining enlightenment through their initiation into the most profound of tantra yogas, "Shri Kalachakra".

Read the article here. Pic courtesy: Hindu

South

2006-01-17T09:28:00.000-08:00

So Trenton, NJ does have an interesting story behind its obscure existence. I liked South's slogan better. 'Smiling faces, beautiful places'/ 'Sunshine State'. Difference between South & New England ? - mountain to a mole hill. All those years down south, I hadn't heard one honk/ nasty swearing/ raised voice. ohh dear, I miss the south, its accent and all its charm.

March of the Penguins

2006-01-16T11:43:00.000-08:00

I am not a big fan of Geographic Channel, but when a good documentary comes by, I don't miss the chance to take a peek into it. I watched 'March of the Penguins', produced by Warned Independant Movies/ National Geographic films. This fascinating film which was shot with help from French Polar Research center, is directed by Luc Jacquet & narrated by Morgan Freeman. You don't have to be an avid nature buff to enjoy this heart warming tale of the penguin in its search for the perfect mate and offspring..

Penguins trek miles and miles enduring hostile weather & starvation for almost 4 months, all for a chance that 'an' offspring might survive in a toss up between winter & food. It was a complete pleasure to follow Morgan Freeman's narration, his voice modulations magically brings out the highs and lows in this penguin tale. Be it the excruciating journey in search for food or stark realities of death in polar winter, his voice matches the mood, although he never emotionally wavers when the penguin finally looses its battle or when the chick finally sees the sun.

Hats of to Jerome Maison and Laurent Chalet's camera. Never too intrusive, I wonder how they were able to capture some of the best close-up shots in this film. When the camera zooms out to show the penguins tottering in the barren white polar lanscape and finally zooms in to show the hundreds congregated, one is behold with owe. Finally the score, a hint of that mischevious note familiar in disney movies reminds you that its by Alex Wurman, who had assisted Hans Zimmer in 'Lion King'.

Pic courtesy: imdb

AOR

2006-01-16T08:48:00.000-08:00

Stuck in bed for 4 days, I had no choice but to watch movies. Cutting to the chase, only one movie is worth mentioning, Anukokunda Okka Roju. Pardon my pedestriane language skills, but I'd guess that the meaning would be something along 'It happened one day'.

The movie is about a wannabe playback singer Charmi, a cab-driver (Shashank) and a suspended & occasionally-corrupt cop (Jagapati Babu). One 'home-alone' weekend Charmi gets coaxed by a friend to take the night off for partying. Caught unawares by drinking & drugs and later sobering up, she finds herself missing a day in her life and worse, gets chased around by strangers. The three of them bound by unusual circumstances, unravel the mystery

Its a curse that the cop's got to be smitten with the heroine in our movies, but when it seldom affects the pace, its ignored as a necessary nuisance. No major quandary in logic, couple of loopholes though-when diminutively built Shashank flexes his fists around professional thugs as most onlookers are dumb-struck & when our heroine decides to walk into death-trap all alone - no rhyme or reason here. But the screenplay ensures that we never stay too long contemplating all these. And the comedy track by the neighbour, 'dhevudaa'. Only time we laugh away (rightly so, after his torture in the name of comedy) to glory is when he gets knocked around by thugs.

Getting back to why I liked this movie, surprisingly family/ friends are not entangled in the plot, obviates unnecessary emotional outbreaks. Jerky camera movements (a must in thrillers), usually causing mild trepidation, are thankfully avoided. Shashank and the cop fit in their roles to a 'T'. As for the villians - bad (moronic) men aren't lurking in the dark afterall. And to think that a total nut job would delude that many men into his scheme - pretty darn scary. Drug sniffing sequences bought back horrendous memories of Requiem for a dream .

On the whole, a good movie. The kind of entertainment that I prefer to morbid family drama. Though I think RGV is highly overrated, Chandra Sekhar Yeliti from his team has definitely done great job.

Anaesthesia

2006-01-10T09:37:00.000-08:00

As an adult, I had always wondered what it would feel like to wake up from anaesthesia. I was always curios if my grandmother remembered anything while her doctors were turning her heart inside-out. Little did I realize that anaethesia of all, is never pleasant.

"Here you go sweetie, see you in a little while" was all I heard. I tried to strain my eyes & senses to observe but then the anaesthetic was slowly creeping into my system, numbing every sensory organ possible and nudging me deep into a blissful sleep.

I stirred into consciousness lamenting, much to the nurse's annoyance. It took a while before I realised that I was blaberring in thamizh. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks, pain shooting right out of my belly, sending shock waves all over, unabashed I screamed for painkillers, for which she reluctantly asked "you in pain?", (huh ??, NO, I like getting high on painkillers !!), well atleast she didn't ask me to grade the pain in a scale of 1 to 10. Once a colorless liquid got into my I-V, things finally took a turn for the pleasant (afterall I was in la-la land :)). Oblivious to pain by then, I meekly called out "where's the doctor?, what's the diagnosis?", for which out of the nook I heard "she left after the procedure, you'll have to call her". My foot !!. Here I was, a bewildered hapless creature and right when I expect her to wait around with crossed fingers & a worried look (don't they do that in the movies ???), she's gone. Such deplorable attitude.

Then I noticed through my blurred vision, wires hanging out of nowhere and strange wave patterns in multitude screens. It was the other patient, slumped in his bed with no doctor in sight. I called out .."what's wrong with him" .. she quiped "just came out of a heart surgery."

Jon Stewart

2006-01-09T08:35:00.000-08:00

Jon Stewart is hosting the Oscars ???. Fake newshour host to host fake awards show. ?? :). Would be really interesting to see who else is going to hang their boots. Talk about digging your own grave.I happened to be on his show recoring, the day after he appeared on "Crossfire" and needless to say he was pretty apologetic on calling people 'dick' on national television.

Rajdeep Sardesai

2005-12-22T07:16:00.000-08:00

Welcome thalaiva .. didn't know you were missing in action from NDTV. Well..more the merrier. As long as I was in India, I've enjoyed reports by Rajdeep Sardesai, Bharkha Dutt, Srinivasan Jain to name a few.

Slapathon

2005-12-22T07:03:00.000-08:00

Perfect timing !! .. Just when we start forgeting all about the moral policing in Chennai, here is another such incident. Ibn reports that 'Chief Minister of UP Mulayam Singh Yadav has condemned the police action', but apparently 'several Shiv Sena activists, who supported the police action, will meet the Police Commissioner on Thursday'. Now, who exactly is ruling the state and who authorized these actions ????.

The Club

2005-12-21T09:04:00.000-08:00

Ever wonder why some are clammoring against marriage previledges for same-sex couple?. A grand conspiracy to stop gays/lesbians from basking in marital bliss?. On the other hand, I'd say that in all good faith, their intention is to stop people from going through hell's gate. Imagine, walking along renganathan st during the days leading to Deepavali. The sultry sun, shining his bright light blinding your vision, the magical road - glimpses of which you can seldom see, people hollering all around - leaving you utterly confused, minutes pass on like years, with every step ahead your judgement weakens and morale hits a new low, you question if you could ever fathom any meaning to the madness and yet trivial pleasures along the way beckon you to stick to your journey. Somewhere down the road, looking back it dawns upon you that you were blissfully tempted into oblivion.

And the experience - priceless !!. :)

As a true-blooded tamilian, I throw a warm hearted welcome to one and all to join this elite club of married couples, fasten your seat belts you all, this is one heck of a roller-coster ride. "Yaan petra inbham, peruga ivaiyagam". :)

NPR.

2005-12-21T08:34:00.000-08:00

This is exactly why I like NPR. Anchors here do exactly what's expected of them - ANCHORING the programme. They do not interject remarks inbetween conversation with guests or act like psuedo-intellect bullies and add comments that really insults your intelligence.

1.5 Donkeys

2005-12-16T07:23:00.000-08:00

That's how old I am.

Surprisingly, all my life I've always been infactuated with one screen persona or the other. The longest stint would have to be with Aamir Khan. No, I don't stick posters all over my walls or hunt for email ids or watch whatever crap they act in or exclaim 'cho, schweet' for every silly emotion they portray. Its infactuation nevertheless. I've fallen head over heals with Aamir after 'QSQT', Shahrukh after 'Fauji', Madhavan after ' Alaipayudhey', Surya after 'Kaakha Kaakha' etc etc. As much as I fall for them, in no time, I rip their act apart. And, I've never fancied real life characters, much to V's chagrin ;).

Obsession with a man ceases the minute he utters a word. Amazingly they all know 'exactly' when to push the wrong button.

Right now, smitten with one Prasanna Venkatesan .