By the beach

I was born in the city of Chennai and have lived here for many years. The city has a coast line running across its eastern side and there are many beaches that line up the coast. The beaches attract truck loads of people at around the time the sun sets. There are people walking along or sitting in groups and chatting, while others frolic in the water. Many vendors sell their fares. On the whole, it adorns a festive look almost every evening. For a long time, I have heard that the beaches are crowded at sun rise too but I usually do not have much idea about what happens that early in the morning.

Personally, I have not been a big fan of the beaches though. As odd as it seemed to many, I hated walking on the sand and wetting myself in the salty water. So whenever I heard the words "let us go to the beach", I try crawling under a bed and hiding.

Three months back it dawned upon me that I have grown old. So I decided to find out what happens in the early parts of a day. As I stay close to a beach, I walk to it and by it on the pavement (keeping a good distance from the sea and water). It is an exhilarating and depressing experience. Exhilarating due to: the rising sun and the colorful sky, the birds flying overhead, the distant sound of the waves that sneak in through the blaring sounds coming out of my head set and the cool breeze. Depressing due to: so many people running and walking faster than me. Over the days I have picked up speed and now there are moments of pride when I overtake someone only to be beaten by someone much older who seems to be exerting less energy than me. The beach is a wonderful place, I accept now, as long as the sand and the water do not come anywhere close to me. The best thing about the beach are the colors of the sky and shapes floating through it. There are sting rays flying across the sky right above the birds and people.

Fade to black

I was feeling very happy that evening.  After many miserable days and nights, I was very hopeful of it happening that night.  I had waited for a long time and many a times felt it come by.  But this evening the feeling was much stronger.  I could hear the people run around in agitation.  Some of them seemed to very close working on something with urgency.  There was a lot of shouting but with every shout my happiness increased.  Oh yes!  I was ready.  I had waited for this moment for long.  My thoughts were on what happens afterwards.  Where would I go?  What would happen to me?  I had heard a lot about it but did not know what to believe and what not to.  So I waited eagerly for it to happen.  Suddenly my happiness started reducing.  I started feeling a pain.  I did not quite understand where the pain came from.  But it was there and it increased as time went by.  Soon, I lost all remembrance of the happiness.  The pain had become unbearable and it was all over me.  I wanted to shout and scream but did not know how.  I wanted to run away but did not way where my legs were.  All that I could feel was the pain.  And then the pain stopped.

The noise of the world went away.  The need for the shout subsisted.  I had felt anything for a long time but the feeling of nothing that came by was very different.  I tried to understand what was happening.  For the first time in many days, I looked around but saw nothing.  Earlier I could hear the people around me but now I heard nothing.  I used to feel pain earlier but I did not even feel that now.  And then the nothing started fading out.

Right across the road

I slept early that night.  The heavy lunch did not let me think of dinner and the time spent out in the summer sun had made me tired.  By the time I reached my room, the pain from all across my body traveled to my head and made it pain like hell.  I did not have the energy to walk from the door to my bed. I plopped on the sofa and fell asleep even before my body hit the sofa.

I am not sure what woke me up but I became aware of a terrible thirst soon after - my throat was parched; I needed some water; I needed a lot of water; water, water, water.  I groped around, my hand hit something and it fell off the table with a loud crash.  The sound brought me back to complete wakefulness and my desperation for water increased.  I attempted to get up but slipped off the sofa and fell onto the floor.  After struggling for a minute or so, I managed to get on to my feet and went searching for the lights.  When brightness came by, I looked around but did not find water around - not in the hall, not in the bedroom and not in the kitchen.  I considered drinking water straight out of the tap but I could see germs of the size of football in the water.  I checked the watch and realized that some of the shops would be open at the time.  I got out on the road and looked at the shop across the road.  There were a few vehicles on the road and I waited to cross the road.

As I waited , I heard the sound of the cars coming by from round a bend.  I waited but nothing happened.  I could hear the car's engine at some distance but did not see the head lights of the car.  I waited for some more but only heard the sound of the car.  It did not come closer.  I waited listening and looking for the head lights to show up.  I leaned against a lamp post and waited.  I am not sure how long I stood in that pose.  But I suddenly opened my eyes and realized I had dozed off for a few moments.  I looked around and found there were no vehicles around.  The shop keeper on the opposite side was beginning to close the shop.  I called out to him and started running across the road.

There was loud sound on my right; I turned to see two lights coming in at a great speed towards me.  I froze for a moment and then ...

I was turning in the air like a leaf.

My head hurt and I could feel something wet running across my face.

The smell of iron was all around.

There were people around, looking at me with horror in their eyes.

Someone was shouting "Taxi, taxi,..."

Pain, pain, pain, ...

People had lifted me and I saw an open taxi door.

I heard my scream.

"Don't worry, you are ok".

Lights on the ceiling running past me.

The smell of medicines.

"Do you hear me?"

"Is it paining here?"

"... operation theater..."

The sights and sounds started fading.  The pain started receding.  Sleep started coming in.  Will I see a bright white light?  Will my brief life's activities run in front of my eyes?  Nothing happened; I only felt sleepier.

.

.

.

.

.

.

In-waste-igation

The phone starts ringing.  Someone picks it up  and starts speaking.
"Inspector Vasu here".
"Sir, dead body." says a voice at the other end.
"What? Where? How?" asks an excited Vasu.
"Gundu mama is dead sir." responds the voice.
"Who is Gundu mama?"
"My uncle sir"
"Who are you?"
"Kittu sir."
"Where is the dead body?"
"In the bedroom sir"
"Give me the address you bloody fool"

Inspector Vasu notes down the address, dons his cap and sprints to his jeep.  He passes the address to the driver and instructs him "Go there".  The driver speeds through the city streets and gets to the location within minutes.  There is a crowd gathered outside a house.  Vasu pushes his way through the crowd and enters the house asking for Kittu.  Kittu comes forward and guides the inspector to the dead Gundu mama.  As the name suggests, Gundu mama was a fat man.   His body is lying on the floor besides the bed.  The floor around his neck is splashed with blood.

"He is dead sir" comments Kittu.
Inspector Vasu stares at him but does not answer.  He walks around the body, sitting and looking at the body from different angles.  He picks up the right arm and feels for the pulse.  "He is dead no?" asks Kittu.  "Get out of here" responds Vasu.  He continues to look at the body from different angles.  People watch him through the windows and doors in the room and exchange thoughts and comments.
"Murdered"
"Brutal"
"It could have been suicide"
"No chance, murder"
"His son hated him"
"No it must have been his brother-in-law"
"I saw someone running out of the house last night"
"That inspector will have a tear in his pants"
"Unfriendly guy"
"That fellow Kittu seems fishy"

"Silence" cries out Inspector Vasu "Someone remove these people from here".  He starts looking at other objects in the room.  He takes out his hand kerchief and pick up a bottle of water from a table in the room.  He holds it against the light and stares at it intently.  He puts back the bottle and picks up a book lying on the bed.  He runs through the pages and drops it back on to the bed.  He then gets to the feet of body and attempts to determine the position of the killer.  He then goes back to the door and attempts to enact how the killer would have got into the room.  As he does this, he observes the floor for some clues.  Suddenly, he stops, bends down and picks up a cigarette butt.  He smells it and then checks it.  "Hmmmmm, triple 5" he says.  He then goes back through the draws in the room but does not find what he is looking for.  He calls back Kittu and asks "Which brand of cigarette did this man smoke?".
"He does not smoke" replies Kittu.
"Hmmmm, who visited this man yesterday"
"He was in the city yesterday.  He only came back this morning."
"Mmmmmm hmmmmm, so somebody killed him this morning."
"Who visited him this morning?"
"I don't know.  I only came in now."
"Does anyone else know?"
"The watchman said that a person wearing a green shirt accompanied mama."
"Who was he?"
"I don't know sir."
"Mmmmmm, get the watchman."

The watchman walks into the room and stares at the body.  Inspector Vasu clears his throat and asks "Tell me what happened this morning?"  He does not get any response from the watchman, who continues to stare at the body.  "Dai, what happened this morning?"  No response still; his eyes are on verge of popping out now.  Inspector Vasu taps the watchman on his should and repeats "What happened this morning?"  The watchman gives the inspector a terrified look and faints.  The inspector kicks the wall in frustration and shouts "Take this idiot out of here".

Vasu walks into the hall and sees that the watchman has come back to his senses.  He sits opposite to the watchman and repeats the question.  The watchman says "Sir" tentatively.  He then lets out series of incoherent sounds.  The inspector gets up, walks out of the house, takes in a few breathes of fresh air and walks back into the room.  He gives an inquiring look at the watchman who has regained some control on his senses.  "Sir this morning, sir came back to his house with another man.  I did not see the man leave."
"Was he wearing a green shirt?"
"Yes sir."
"How did he look?"
"He was a tall and big man.  I could not see his face.  He was bald."
"Big man mmmmm."
"Was he carrying anything?"
"He was carrying a brief case."
"Which colour?"
"Brown sir"
"Do you see it here?"
The watchman looks around the room  and says "no sir".
"Go and check the other rooms"
"SIR?" cries the watchman.
"Ok, ok.  I will take care of the room with the body"
The brief case is not found anywhere.  Inspector Vasu calls Kittu over and asks him about this man in the green shirt.  Kittu does not know who it is.  He asks the watch man to describe the man to Kittu.  Kittu thinks for a moment and says that sounds like Prakash mama.
"Who is Prakash mama?"
"Gundu mama had visited him yesterday."
"So this guy must have come back with him, right?"
"I don't know sir."
"Do you have his phone number?"
"No, but we can check Gundu mama's phone book."
The phone book has Prakash mama's number.  Kittu calls up and finds out that Prakash mama had left the previous night with Gundu mama and they did not know his current location.  Kittu asks them to call back once any information about Prakash mama is heard.  He turns to Inspector Vasu and says "Prakash mama has killed Gundu mama", who promptly asks Kittu to shut up.
"Do you have Prakash's photograph?"
"I don't know" replies Kittu.
"Can you describe him?" asks Inspector Vasu.
"Yes"
"Then come by to the station"

The next day, Inspector looks through the details of the case sipping tea.  A constable walks in and says "Prakash and Kittu are here to see you".  Inspector Vasu jumps out of his seat and shouts "Show them in."  The persons enter the room and Inspector Vasu grabs the person with Kittu, who he assumes is Prakash, and shouts "Mr.Prakash, you are under arrest for the murder of ehhhh, errrrrr, Gundu mama".
Prakash cries out "No, no, I did not kill him".
"Ha ha ha, that is what all criminals say but no one escapes the long arms of the law".
"No, no, I did not kill him."
"The law has caught up with you old man.  You are under arrest."
"No, no, I did not kill him."
Kittu jumps in "No, no, Prakash mama did not kill Gundu mama."
"What do you know? I am the inspector here and I have proof that this man Prakash killed the man."
"What proof?" demands Prakash.
"Why should I tell you?"
"Because I have the right to know."
"Sir" interject Kittu "the watchman is missing".
"What has that got to do with this case?" asks Inspector Vasu.
"Soon after you left, the watch man left with a bag and has not turned up still.  Prakash mama called home and heard about Gundu mama.  So he got in touch with me."
"Yes sir" said Prakash in agreement "Gundu was alive when I left.  Something must have happened after I left"
"Hmmm, so the watch man is missing is it?" asks Inspector Vasu.

Inspector Vasu, Prakash and Kittu reach the murder site and start questioning the people about the watchman.  No one has seen him since the previous day.  They search his small room but does not find anything of interest in the room.  "Where is the brown brief case?" asks Inspector Vasu.  "Which brown brief case?" asks Praskash.  "The one Gundu mama was carrying" says Kittu.  "Gundu did not have any brown briefcase."  responds Prakash lighting a cigarette.  "Mmmmm hmmmm" says Inspector Vasu "let us get that watchman."

Now, Inspector Vasu is in search for the watch man named Mani.  He is average height and wheatish complexion.  He also a mole one of his cheeks (some people say right cheek and others left).  He has a moustache and is not fat.  If you see anyone of this description, mail to vasu@inspectorvasu.com

This is not a love story!

Kapil had to change buses to reach his college.  Within a few weeks of joining the college he had a good idea of the bus timings.  The 20 minute wait at the link road stop was turning out to be the most tiring 20 minutes of his life.  This being the pre-mobile era, there was no possibility of looking down at that object in his palm and be oblivious of everything else around.  Kapil was not into books either and so there was no doorway to the Austinen era England or Rice-an jungles.  He ended up standing under the shade of a tree and play mind numbing games.  How many red cars passed by today?  Can I spot any Mercedes Benz today?  Will Maruti or Ambassador win today's count?  As his mind played these games, many buses passed by but he did not notice any of these.  His eyes were fixed on the cars on the road.  Kapil understood the meaning of the word boredom at that bus stop.  If he went on to become a saint, this 20 minute wait in the morning and evening could be given credit.  But fate had something else in store for him - It never let him move from the state of passivity to patience to penance.  It gave him a fine distraction instead.

One day an altercation between a bus conductor passenger got Kapil's eyes off the road.  His eyes did not fall on the exact scene of commotion but on a beautiful face near the scene.  The pair of eyes on that face were watching him intently.  She took her eyes off him when he looked at her.  Kapil continued to look at her.  After a bit, she stole a glance at him but turned her head away almost itmmediately.  She kept her eyes off him till the bus moved away.  Kapil looked at her for as long as he could.  He then wrote the bus number into his head - A glimmer of light in the dark tunnel.

Kapil was very happy to get back to the bus stop the next evening.  He was no longer interested in the Marutis and Ambassadors on road.  All he cared for was the bus and the girl.  The bus of interest came by 10 minutes later and the girl was seated in the same location as the previous day.  Kapil did not take his eyes off her but she did not turn her head towards him.  The bus moved on leaving a disappointed Kapil . The disappointment continued for the next few days.  He waited for the bus, the bus came by, he stared at the girl, she did not look at him, the conductor blows the whistle and the bus disappears into the traffic bustle with Kapil's eyes on its disappearing form.  This went on for a few days and Kapil's interest on the bus and its beautiful passenger went down.  The intensity of his stare had gone down from "Oh! What a girl" to "mmmmm hmmmmm".

Around that time Kapil visited his friend Govind, where Kapil overheard Govind's sister, Paavani's phone conversation.  He heard her say "O! the link road stop is it?", "How long has this been going?", "How does the guy look?", "Did you talk to him?", "Noooooo, go ahead and talk", "How boring!".  The door opened and Govind's voice was heard.

The next time, he saw the girl his stare was back to the "Oh! What a girl" intensity.  He stared at her hard but the girl did not look in his direction.  The burning question in Kapil's mind was "Was Paavani talking to this girl?  Were they talking about me?".  The question continued to haunt him for the next few days as he did not see any reaction from her.  In desperation, he started visiting Govind's home and start small talks with Paavani.  But he never really got the guts to ask Paavani about the girl on the bus.  So small talks remained small talks and the girl in that bus remained that girl in the bus.

One day, Kapil decided to move away from the under-the-tree location.  He watched the bus as it came by but on this day the girl was looking intently at the location where he used to stand.  She looked around and then her eyes returned to the location under the tree.  Kapil walked to towards the tree, looking at the girl with a smile on his lips.  When he reached there, the girl noticed him and jerked her head off in another direction.  She then slowly turned he head round and smiled at him.  "It's time of the season for loving" was going on in Kapil's head.  The bus moved away with the two looking at each other.  The next few days continued to be smile at each other days.

Kapil now wanted to take the relationship to the next level - He had to talk to her.  The next day, he got into her bus.  The girl saw him walk towards the bus and her smile disappeared.  He took a ticket to the last stop of that bus and walked towards the girl's seat.  She was busily looking at a book in her hand.  He stood by the seat but did not perceive any reaction from the girl.  He stood there for some time and attempted clearing his throat, singing a tune, whistling another tune, force a cough, force another cough, force a sneeze, sing another song,... At this point, the lady sitting next to the girl glared at Kapil and asked him, in quite an unfriendly manner, to keep quiet and move on.  The girl did not look up or react to either of this.  Kapil kept looking at her and moved towards the driver.  He continued to look at her but she kept her eyes on the book and the lady continued to glare at him.  Finally, Kapil got tired of the scene and got down from the bus.

That evening, he visited Govind's place where a heated argument was taking place between Govind and Paavani.  The topic was about Paavani's friend smiling at a guy in a bus stop and the guy following her into the bus.
"If she smiled, he will follow her.  What did she expect?" said Govind.
"Why should he follow her?  She was only being polite." was the response.
"It does not mean that she was being polite.  It means she likes him."
"No, it does not.  She hardly knows him.  So how can she like him?"
"Then why did she smile at him."
"She sees him everyday and so she decided to be polite and smile."
"She sees a lot of people every day.  Does she smile at all of them?"
"He smiled at her first and she only returned the smile."
"Anyway, what happened after that?  Did he talk to her?"
"No, a good lady sitting next to her chased the creep off."

By this time, Kapil was sweating profusely and was looking at a way to run out of the house.  Govind turned to Kapil, at the moment, and asked "Hey, you change buses and the link road stop isn't it?"  "Well, hmmm, ya sometimes."  "Have you seen this guy standing under a tree and smiling at girls passing by?"  "Hmmmm, no.  I don't know.  Hey, I got to leave".

The next day, Kapil went to the NSS office in his college and enrolled for the evening traffic duty - one and half hours of controlling traffic before reaching the link road stop.  He did not see that girl again till many years later.  It was on the day of Govind's sister wedding.
"Congratulations Paavani" she said.
"Hi Geeta, so glad you could make it" replied Paavani.  She then introduced Geeta to her husband "This is Geeta, my good friend from school."
"Congratulations Kapil.  You look familiar.  Have we met before?"

In deep and ends

Independence, independence independence day
Its a holiday, holiday, just another holiday
Leaders, leaders, leaders many powerful people
Struggled, struggled, struggled against usurpers
Respect, respect, respect them in heart
No more, no more, no more sustained
Fallible, fallible, fallible they seem
Gullible, gullible, gullible we seem
Tyrant, tyrant, tyrants in many forms
Rulers, rulers, rulers in any form

Independence day

As the time of celebration nears
A tired nation looks back, looks around
The lighted path is no longer seen
The glorious sun hides from sight
Leaders innumerable have come and gone
But some are still around
Visions limited to tips of their nose
Have to carry her on to lighted places
Is there anyone or any many who can do it?
The path is dark and we need a light
But eyes don't shine enough
Are the days of thirst back?
Do we need another great soul?
Are great souls made these days?
Question mark above our heads
A nation looks ahead in worry
And looks back with pride
That is a worry.

A trip to black out

Finally I gave into the pressure and decided to visit Dev and Goda. Indianapolis was the destination that weekend.  I called my travel agent to book tickets (this being the pre-e-prefixed-to-every-damned-word-in-the-dictionary age I had no other choice).  Some one called Nancy picked up the call and asked me how she can help me.  I asked for a return ticket to Indianapolis.
"To where?" she asked.
"Indianapolis" I said.
"I don't think I understand." came the response.
I could not believe that the travel agent did not know where Indianapolis was and so attempted a phonetic split "In-di-ana-police".
"Is it in India?" came the response.
"No, it is not in India; it is in the US" retorted my voice with a tinge of frustration.
The other side remained cool though.  "Can you spell it?"
"I N D I A N A P O L I S"
Recognition finally struck in. "Oh you mean Indianaaaeeeeplis" exclaimed Nancy.
"Yes, Indianaaaeeeeplis" repeated I with a mixed feeling of frustration and relief.

I got out of office on Friday evening and headed directly to the airport.  Dev would be there at the airport to pick me up.  Goda as ever had to work late that night.  The taxi driver, like most taxi drivers across the world, was of talkative nature and I ended up conversing on some very interesting topics.
1. Weather: "Its really hot these days", "Yes"
2. Traffic: "The traffic sucks at around this time", "Yes"
3. Sports: "Did you watch the match last night", "No"
4. Nationality: "Are you from Pakistan?", "No, India"
5. Food: "I love Indian food". "Oh is it?"
6. Bollywood: "I have watched a Bollywood movie once", "Did you like it?", "It was interesting; colorful".
...
1156 Politics: "So what do you think about our President?", "Well, mmmm, ahhhhh there is the airport."

I got out of the taxi and ran for my life.  I heard the taxi driver scream out "Sir" from behind.  After a moments hesitation I turned around to see him point at something in the back seat.  "Your bag" he said.  I picked up the bag with a "Thank you very much".  Fate was forcing me to forget the feelings I had for the guy.  My head put in a "Good guy" in its scratchpad and erased it almost immediately.

The flight to Indianaaaeeeeplis was uneventful except for a bad pocket of turbulence during which the aircraft  dropped a few kilometres and my kidney, liver and stomach got a little closer to each other - now they are in the same neighbourhood.  Oh yes, there was also that Pretzel that nearly broke a tooth.  And yes, I forget that OhJ (apparently an acronym for Orange Juice) that tasted like acid.  Other than that the trip was uneventful.  Of course, there was that passenger who stared at me and muttered a curse under his breath when my bag hit his head, quite accidentally, as I was taking it out of the overhead compartment.  Nothing untoward beyond that.  I  don't think I should mention about that fall I had as I was getting out of the aircraft.

It was not an emotional reunion with Dev but I think there were a few emotions in that reunion. It got expressed in a hand clasp and  a few "Enna da, eppidrairrukke?" type of queries.  Of course, he noticed the limp and asked what happened.  Of course, he was not happy with a nothing much type of response and persisted.  Of course I was forced to explain the fall.  And a final of course here - Of course, he laughed all the way to his car.

It was now my turn to be the proponent of  that taxi driver type of conversation.
"How far is your place?"
"Oh my place is about 10 miles from here.  Goda's place is closer to the airport and I am taking you there."
"You guys don't stay together"
"Hmmmm, no.  I moved out couple of months back"
"Why?"
"Well, nothing particular."
"Any problem between you guys?"
"No no, nothing da.  Don't be silly."
"Then?"
"Well, I moved in with my girl friend."
"GIRL FRIEND?"
"Yea."

I had never realized prior to that moment that Dev could actually blush and that the blush could be so noticeable.  Now there was no stopping my curiosity.

"You have a girl friend. Kalakkere"
"Oh hmmmm aaaaa"
"Indianaaaa?"
"No"
"Americana?"
"Illa da."
"Appuram."
"Chinese."
"Chinese aaaa?  Does she know English?"
"Of course she does.  What the hell da."
"Ok ok.  How long do you know her?"
"A few months now."
"You did not tell me!"
"Well, I thought hmmmm you know"
"Nor did Goda."
"Yeah hmmmmm well"
"When can I meet her?"
"Why do you want to meet her?"
"What! You are not going to introduce me to her?"
"No, I will.  Let us see."
"What is her name?"
"Stephanie"
"What is her original Chinese name?"
"Stu Pe Nee"
"Stepneyaaa?"
"Dai."
"Ok ok."

I asked a lot of other questions but the response from Dev was near monosyllabic.  Many of them started and ended with a menacing "Dai".  That night, I quizzed Goda a bit on Stephanie but did not get much information.  The next day was spent in seeing many uninteresting places.  I have very little remembrance of these places.  The three of us had a great time eating, drinking and talking about old times.  Through the day, Dev's phone kept ringing; he attended a few of the calls but ignored most of them in the afternoon.  When evening came, he informed us that he had to leave and cannot stay back for dinner.  I was offended and expressed it with a variety of abuses.  Dev displayed incredible patience and explained that he has to get back home for dinner with Stephanie.  I wanted to meet Stephanie and wanted accompany him.  Dev was quiet but Goda asked me to shut up.  I ignored Goda's rudeness and insisted on going with Dev.  Goda slapped his hand against his head and Dev descended into a ghostly look.  Finally Dev acceded and accepted to take us to his place.  Our drive to his home was mostly done in silence.  Dev tried to reach Stephanie on mobile but was not able to get through.

On reaching our destination, Dev said "Stephanie is not feeling very well today and is not in the best of her moods.  So guys please watch out."
Goda responded "Its ok da.  We will not come up.  You go."
"Come on Goda.  This is not polite" was my pig headed response.

Goda shrugged his shoulders and moved on.  Goda and Dev climbed up the stairs stealthily.  Dev took out his keys and carefully inserted a key into the lock.  He waited a moment, uttered a prayer, opened the door and called out "I am here, honey".  The response came in the form a "You #@$*&r".  Dev shouted a "watch out" and ducked.  I heard Goda running towards the stairs.  A pink object flew out of the door.  When it was a metre from my face I saw Britney smiling at me from the object.  Dev's "watch out" echoed in my head but I continued staring at Britney.  I then felt a pain tearing up from my nose to the insides of my head.  The world first turned pink, then red and finally black. 

Bleak and bliss

He crept through the night.  The jungle was dark but he being what he was did not bother.  He slid through the trees and grass quite easily.  The rocks and thorns on the ground did not bother him.

He was searching for something.  He did not know what it was but was sure he would know once he got it.  He had been searching for it from forever.  He could remember a time when something painful enveloped him.  The pain stayed with him since then but he was not sure how long back that was.  At the time the pain came in, he realized he had to find it.  At that point, he knew what it was but as time went by his memory faded.  How long did his memory last?  He did not remember.  He understood light and dark but did not understand seconds or minutes or hours or days or months or years or decades or centuries or millennium. There was just the search for it.  He saw a lot of things; some moved and some did not.  The ones that moved seemed to increase his pain but others did not increase his pain (they did not reduce it either).  He was not sure if the pain ever reduced.  He could only feel the increase in pain.  In fact, the only feelings he had were the pain and the need to find it.

Suddenly, he felt his pain decrease.  A new feeling started creeping in.  He moved forward but the pain increased.  He came back to the original spot.  He went to his right and felt his pain reduce.  So he continued to move forward.  At some point, his pain increased.  He traced his way back and went left with no effect.  He came back again, took the right and felt his pain reduce.  In this manner, he continued till he realized that he had found it.  He moved slowly towards it.  The pain had almost disappeared and a new feeling that he did not understand took over.  He continued moving till he had no feelings at all.

With no feeling left, what more can be said.

Meanness

I would have laughed at his falling
If not for the sound of his nose cracking
That thud of his crashing screamed into my ears
His face kissing floor, his leg in air

His thought of himself higher than he fared
Ground below too low to be cared
Stones and potholes of no bother
Snakes and thorns hurt some other

As I watched him strut around with pride
Thoughts unpleasant arose in my head
When out of nowhere his world rocked
And I heard the song "Going down" in my head

His nose traveled at an increasing pace
Maximum speed attained when floor touched face
Blood spilled out, coloring the floor red
Why do I feel I won in the end

Oh no! This is the road to hell ...

The roads in Uttarakand are straight out of hell.  The winter had just come to an end and the landslides had  almost killed the roads.  The lives of  people using the road were hanging in some balance that swayed between death and life.  But our driver was oblivious to this risk and had a whistle on his lips as his hands held the wheel casually.  The tyres were flying by the edge and in some places the road was not underneath one of the back tyres.  There were a number of messages exchanged and transactions made during the whole journey and not all of them seemed legal.  Cans filled with Diesel got in at one place and the contents of the can got into the vehicle at other places.

Some where during the journey, a board on the side of the road screamed

Road is hilly

Don't drive silly

But for a person born and brought up in that area, hills seemed silly.  Our driver drove happily, oblivious of the traffic, the fallen rocks, the sheer drop running all along the road and all those overtaken drivers' abuses.  He had total disdain for all those "fools from other states" anyway.  Any non-UK or UA registered vehicle was honked right out of the road.  Our driver honked and honked at an Innova with Delhi registration that had Congress emblems painted all across but got back no reaction.  So he suddenly swerved the vehicle to the right, overtook the Innova and shoved our vehicle right in front of the Innova.  The Congress-wala did not seem to be used to this kind of treatment.  He ranted out phrases with the C-word and started chasing our vehicle.  The silent and beautiful Bhagirathi valley turned into a dusty and noisy zone.  The Dilli-congresswala was no match for our local daredevil though.  Our man did not let the Congress guy overtake and continued overtaking vehicles in the most brazen manner.  Soon the chaser gave up and some quietness sneaked into the valley again.

Just before the final leg of the journey, our driver suddenly stopped the car and got out.  It was dark by now and our destination was only a few KMs away.  A little later some one got in and we were all intoxicated with the smell of alcohol.  A much older man sat on the driver's seat.  Our good old but young driver was at the back of the vehicle.  The old man started the vehicle, strained his neck, peered into the darkness and got the vehicle moving.  The roads were empty but the driver kept honking continuously.  As in the movie "Sixth Sense" maybe he "saw dead people".   Soon the old and new driver started a loud conversation that ran diagonally across the vehicle.  As it was in Garhwali, we only could understand a few words here and there but it seemed to be about some uncles, aunts and their neighbours.  The old man on the wheel clearly had a lot of difficulty in keeping up with the conversation and driving but he plodded on bravely.  Of course, most of us did not share the same amount of braveness and were all praying to all the Gods we were aware of.  The Gods obviously heard us quite clearly after all we were so close to them at that height.  A few meters from the destination the vehicle stopped and the drunk old driver got off.

The younger fellow got back in and we continued our journey.  The old man was his uncle, a bus driver returning home.  "Being a bus driver he has difficulty in driving these smaller vehicles.  It must have been tough for him" said the driver.  "Then why did you let him drive the vehicle?" I asked with a shiver.  "Just like that" came the response with a big smile.

When Gods wake up

I woke up that morning with the realization that I had known about the village and what happened to it for a long time now.  It was in one of those remote folds of my brain and that night it decided to flow to a visible place.  The village was situated by a mountain which was ominously named the Gurram.  The name was put in with a reason; the mountain rumbled all the time.  The villagers had always felt the rumble but were never scared of it.  They thought that mountain god, Asila slept underneath and the rumble were his snores.  For the villagers, Asila was the God of creation.  He created the world and then dug a hole threw some earth over him and slept.  He kept himself warm and the warmth saved the villagers from the bitter winter that lasted almost round the year.  The warmth, rumble and the mountain made the village a beautiful place and over the years the village grew large enough to be called a town.

One fine day in the year 4389 as per the village priest's calendar, the ground started shaking.  It shook just enough to upset the people but the houses were not damaged.  The rumble grew louder and the shakes grew stronger as the days passed.  The villagers assembled in the priest's hall and expressed their worry to the priest.  "Asila is waking up and he is not aware of our presence.  Someone needs to inform him." said the priest.  The villagers looked at each other in bewilderment.  "But only you can talk to Asila, oh holy one!" blurted a voice.  Everyone else nodded their heads in agreement.  A disturbed expression crept into the priest's face.  With thunder in his voice he said "I am Goda who was made with Asila.  Asila the great and I do not deal with these mortal thoughts.  We do not talk these things.  It is for people who live and die.  Asila and I don't die and cannot talk about these things.  One of you has to go to the top of the mountain and let Asila  know of our presence.  You decide who will do it".  The bewilderment increased as they did not know how to converse with God or for the matter how to even meet the God.

"But how can we meet Asila?  How can we make him understand?" asked the crowd.  "One of should go around the mountain and climb up to the top.  When you reach there Asila will show you the way." replied the priest.  "In the meanwhile, I have to do some penance to try and  placate the God.  During this time, I will not be visible to you.  But don't worry I am taking care of it all." continued the priest.  The villagers had many things to worry about now - the priest will not be there, one of them has to meet up with Asila and they really did not know how to go about doing this.  The big question was, of course, who should meet Asila.  The obvious choice was the village head man's illegitimate son.  He was considered a nice guy - so nice that a lot of people thought he was an idiot.  The village head man and his honchos were not happy with his illegitimacy being known to all anyway.  So he ended up being the unanimous choice.  The person in question, Konio, had no choice but to nod his head in agreement with a sheepish smile.

That night Konio was sent out of the village through the eastern gate.  At the same time, the village priest slipped out of the western gate.  The next morning, Konio started climbing the hill from the eastern side.  A few minutes into the climb, he heard a loud explosion and the earth shook under his feet like a leaf.  Stones started rolling down the hill.  Konio ran down the mountain to save himself from the falling rocks.  He ran back to his village.  When he went round the mountain  he found that the complete western side of the mountain had caved in, the village had disappeared and river of fire was flowing through the place where the village had existed.  Konio sat down and cried - He had failed, Asila had risen and his village was destroyed.

Is that a cool cat?

For a few days, we had fish for lunch and dinner almost everyday.  We had just discovered the Government run fish shop in the neighborhood and were enamored by the whole process of buying good quality fishes - from selecting the fishes, weighing them and getting them cleaned.  One day, as the fishes were being cleaned, I saw one of the shop's employees bring in an assortment of fishes in a small basket.  Another employee, picked up a few fishes and threw it out of the window.  The crows swooped down and started fighting over the fishes.  I asked "Why are you throwing these fishes away?" "Every lot has a few bad fishes that we don't sell.  We only serve the best and throw away the rest" said the employee who brought in the basket.  As he was saying this he picked up one of the bigger fishes from the basket and threw it out of the window.  Immediately a cat rushed in and picked up the fish.  The crows came by a few seconds later but the cat was walking away with the fish.  The crows cawed and circled round the cat who continued to walk nonchalantly to the other side of the road.  When the cat reached the other side of the road it disappeared under a Maruti car parked by the pavement.  The crows seemed stumped as they did not want to go into the crammed space under the car.  They gave up the chase and came back to the fish shop to fight it over the bits and pieces flying out of the window.  The cat was not seen for a few minutes.  When I walked out of the shop, I saw it emerge from under the car.  It sat at the edge of the road lickings it whiskers and watching the crows fighting for the bits and pieces.

Lifting conversation

I got into the lift from the basement and pressed the 7th floor button.  The lift stopped on the ground floor and two young men got in.  One of them was saying "My father came to Chennai for that case at the high court.  He just landed up with no prior information.  I opened the door and there he was.  The room was in a mess.  The first thing my father saw were the empty beer bottles on the floor.  He just went ballistic.  He fired the hell out of me and stormed out of the room.".  "Super" said the other guy.  "Oh yes, Super! I couldn't even run after him as I was standing there in my jetty.  I have not gone home since and ...".  The lift door opened on the seventh floor and I had to walk off.

Kaala Pathar

I have been wanting to watch "Kaala Pathar" for a long time.  The story line seemed interesting and it had almost all the big actors of those days in it.  It was not available very easily and so for a long time remained a wish. The wish became reality on an airplane.  I tuned into the movie and sure enough it turned out to be interesting. There were a few seedy scenes but on the whole it is a brave movie for its time. A dark tale on fight against exploitation with quite an exciting climax.  There are some very good sequences and Amitabh is superb as the angry man. But the scene I liked the most involved the inimitable Shatrughan Sinha. He gets into a card game with most notorious guy in that place.  The guy has never lost a game in his life and has won truck loads of money.  Everyone knows he is a cheat but he is apparently so good at it that no one has deciphered how.  So the game starts between the two with distribution of three cards each.  First Mr.Sinha's card looks at his cards.  The shot is a close up of his hand holding the cards and it was so close that I could not help notice the creepy glisten of his nails.  The first card is a "King", the second card is also a "King" but his third card turns out to be a "2".  Next they show the other guy's hand, which thankfully did not have the glistening nails.  His first card is a "Jack", his second card is also a "Jack" but his final card is a "4".  The game starts between the two - "One hundred",  "One hundred", "Two hundred", "Three hundred", "Three hundred", "One thousand".  At this point, the other guys slips out a "Jack" from his sleeve and slips in the "4".  I have no idea how he was sure he will get the two "Jacks" but he had a "Jack" up his sleeve that he slipped out.  He then decides to show the cards trimphantly and is ready to grab the money.  Shatru-ji stops him and drops two of his card - the two "King" cards and announces his victory.  Everyone is confused and a few of them protest.  They ask "but where is the third "King"?".  Shatru in his inimitable style says "Theesra baadshah hum hain" (I am the third King) and walks off with the money while the others watch him with open mouth.

Teamwork or Themework

Even if we fail, the agreement is that we should not fail individually, we should fail as a team - Yet another definition of teamwork.

Jump to conclusion

The flight was late by 30 minutes.  At 4 am, that seemed like a delay by 3 hours.  People were tired of sitting and trying to stave off sleep.  Everyone crowded by the gate and looked intently at the airline representative, who carefully avoided eye contact with any of the waiting "guests".  There were a number of foreigners and they too were a part of the crowd - India seems to have brought out the Indian in them.  Finally, when the time arrived, people created a thick line, about 5 people thick.  In front of me was a white man who had shaved his head and was wearing a black t-shirt and denim pants.  There was a tattoo of a fancy skull on his left arm; another tattoo on his back was peeping out of the t-shirt.  I was reminded of all those Neo-nazis I had heard about and my mind was made up - he is from Germany and he is a skinhead.  A question  perplexed me though "what is this guy doing in India?".  We were up in the skies soon and I was able to snatch a few hours of sleep.  A few hours later we touched down at the transit point.  There was not much time for the next flight and I was hurrying through the transit.  At the security check, I put my luggage through the scanner and started repacking stuff back into place.  Suddenly, I heard a soft voice saying "Excuse me, sir" by my side .  I turned to see the assumed skinhead holding a useless piece of paper that fell out of my bag. "I think you dropped this sir" he said with a smile.  I took back with a sheepish smile and said "Thanks".

About Kadal

“Viswaroopam” did not release on the expected date in Chennai. Many people booked tickets a week ahead but  a day before the release Government became responsible and banned the movie. "Sentiments are very important" they said. "If sentiments are hurt, peace will be lost" they reiterated and banned the movie in Tamilnadu. The people who booked the tickets suddenly fell from their position of envy. To make things worse, all around the world people were watching the movie and Facebook was filled with comments on this being one of the best entertainers from the one and only Ulaganayakan. The angst filled Chennai-ites spent their lunch and coffee breaks discussing their unlucky fate – conspiracy theories ran haywire in people’s mind. Political parties soon jumped in the fray and started throwing accusations and counters at each other. The hurt sentimentalists continued to protest shaking their heads and beating their chest with their fists in anger. Meanwhile, the person responsible for this tamasha, the one and only Ulaganayakan, spent his life on newspapers and television reminding us of Jim Carrey  in "The Truman Show" ("Good morning! Oh in case I don't see you again good afternoon, good evening and good night" is a line I can never forget). A big part of the first page of “The Hindu” seemed to be reserved for “Viswaroopam” every day. The one and only ulaganayakan is now one step away from becoming a martyr for freedom of speech – in the Jesus Christ – M.F.Hussain spectrum. “This is a sad day for freedom of speech”, “My heart bled for him”, “We are with you Kamal sir”, “This could happen to anyone”, “Power star is a star” and many such words flow out of many esteemed mouths. In midst of these events of universal proportion Maniratnam released his latest movie “Kadal”.

'News about “Kadal” started trickling in a few months back with the news that Karthik’s son and Radha’s daughter being the lead pair. The two parents made their debut many years ago in Barathiraja’s much hyped up romance (the most romantic movie of the 80s!) and people started talking about their children coming together in a Maniratnam movie. This seemed too jingoistic for Maniratnam and his saying that it happened by chance did not seem too convincing. Soon Rahman played a song from the movie in some concert and it became a rage. A little later the album came out on the web and it turned out to be a rage. Every mp3 player and all radio stations played the songs all the time. For many days, I religiously played these songs first thing in the morning. Everyone's expectations were on a high when the trailers came out on YouTube. It was a long trailer and seemed to show the movie in its entirety.  I personally did not mind it; it seemed quite unlike a Maniratnam movie – a bit loud and commercial. Some people commented on FB that the trailer turned off their interest and that the hero’s face was made of wood (that is probably true when compared to someone like Sivaji Ganesan but many of us prefer faces made of less elastic material than Sivaji’s). I thought the movie was supposed to be released on Valentine’s day but one day in last week of Jan I saw a picture of the hero jumping up in ecstasy with “Feb 1” written behind. No “Viswaroopam” Yes “Kadal” said my mind.
Life was a trifle busy that week and I missed booking the tickets (and so the yes had to be turned to maybe). All the first day shows were full and for some weird reason Satyam theater was not open for booking on the web (it opened and closed for Escape in a jiffy). Speculations on why Satyam was not open poured in – I was of the opinon that they were waiting for a last minute entry of “Viswaroopam”, another guy said that Maniratnam booked all halls in Satyam for the weekend for his people to see (whatever that means), still another said that Satyam always was opened in the last minute. Whatever the reason, I had made up my mind that I had to keep “Kadal” off for a week or two.

A day prior to the release, I got desperate and started asking people if they could get me a ticket through magic (recommendation type).  A good colleague took pity and SMS-ed me late that night - Satyam has opened up tickets on the web.   I wondered which of our theories about Satyam not being open were right.  Anyway, I was excited at the prospect of getting a chance at the late hour to watch the movie on day one (from day two people's comments start pouring in and that might reduce the fun).  I opened my laptop connected to the web and got into the Satyam website.  Sure enough ticket across different classes were available for the 10:30 pm show and that too in the large hall (what in my younger days was referred to as Satyam; the other two being then called Santham and Subham).  I logged in and placed the request to select my seats.  The next screen went back to the first screen that listed all the movies again.  With a "what the hell" I ran through the same process and with the same result.  I tried again - no difference, again - no difference, again - no difference, again - no difference, again - no difference, again - no difference and then the premium class tickets got sold out.  I went back to again - no difference, again - no difference, again - no difference, again - no difference, again - no difference, again - no difference and then the next class got sold out (don't know the name of the class).  I called the good hearted colleague, he said he was facing the same issue.  The explanation was that the ticket counters are open till 10:30PM and till then online bookings are not allowed. Now exasperation and desperation started playing havoc and my laptop's touch pad bore the brunt of the attack.  Clickety-clack I went on for a few more minutes.  Clickety-clack, Clickety-clack, Clickety-clack, oh god let it work just once, Clickety-clack, Clickety-clack, oh god let the economy class not turn red, Clickety-clack, Clickety-clack, Clickety-clack, Clickety-clack.  Suddenly the theater layout came up and I saw that there were a few seats left.  I quickly selected the seats on the fifth row from the screen.  I did not forget to thank god for I needed his/her blessing for a bit longer.  The damned bank should not mess up the booking.  With shivering hands, I typed in my credit card number with all those other details they required to be sure I am I.  Minutes passed and my prayers continued to bother god who must have by now been tossing and turning on his bed.  I know that god was an early sleeper and he/she must have been frustrated by this guy pestering him/her with those damned prayers for the damned tickets for that damned movie (all those "damns" are from God and not from me).  Finally, I though I heard God scream at the bank's servers "Just pass that damned transaction.  That damned fellow is messing up my sleep.  Let him watch that damned movie".  The next moment the ticket appeared on the screen and my phone gave out the sweet beeps confirming the arrival of the ticket.  I said "THANK GOD" and god said "NO MENTION".

The next day I ran over to my colleague's seat to give him a hug but converted it to an emotional "THANK YOU".  He said "No mention".  "Good heavens" I thought "same voice, same diction, same words; could this be god?".  "The guy is not a rascal" my thoughts continued "so he could be the one but he is too lean to be a god.  Naah, no way, he is too lean.  Since all of us are god's children he seems to have inherited god's words, voice and diction".  I cut this pointless thought process and went back to my seat.  I passed that day doing what I did best - meetings, mails and "vetti pechu". Evening came and passed into night.  Soon that time commonly referred to as 10:30PM came by and I was in the theater.  It was the good old non-multiplexy theater, where the seats looked up to the screen rather than the lecture hellish looking down at the screen.  We wowed a bit at the feel and the size of the theater and then Mani and his epic saga came on screen.

My intention when I began putting down this piece on paper was to give my thoughts on the movie "Kadal".  I had made up my mind to make it intelligent and detailed.  Possibly something that would be used as a prime example of movie critiquing in the Indian Institute of Movie Review Writing (IIMRW).  But when I began writing I felt the irresistible urge to give it an introduction to give a perspective to the discerning reader of the chaos that existed at the time of the release of “Kadal”.  That irresistible urge turned out to be a irresistible itch that stretched on for a few days.  When the time, finally, came up to write the review a week had passed (right down to the hour actually) and the movie has started slipping out of my mind.  Now, I am not sure if the movie opened with the Arjun-Arvindswamy sequence or the sorrowful child sequence.  That pretty much throws the intelligence and details out of the French window.  I am now desperate to finish this damned write up and press the publish button (this damned is from me and not from god).  But there is a problem; I continue to write stuff, which has no relevance to the movie and I have not even started the review.  So there goes my one chance of being an expert – I have to leave that to my good friend who has already had an impact on my feelings for Kadal (I went through his review on the blog and talked to him yesterday; I am contaminated now).  So here is an abridged and not very intelligent thoughts on the movie Kadal (with hopefully very little contamination).

The first fifteen minutes of the movie were awesome.  The scenes touched many a raw nerves.  The titles come in with the pumping "Magudi" in the background.  But post that the the main character starts growing up and the flow of the movie gets jerky.  More than anything what makes a movie captivating is the flow.  When the director gets the flows of the movie right, it results in an enthralling experience for the viewer.  The two recent examples I came across were in the movies "Aakashathinte Niram" and "No country for old men".  The former a luxurious rumination on life and the latter a violent cat and mouse game that takes its time to build and runs into an abrupt end.  These movies were not about what they say, the focus was on the how.  The "how" seems to be more important than "what".  In "Kadal" Maniratnam seems to have focused on the "what", which in this case is a fight of Biblical proportion  between "Good" and "Bad".  The "How" ends up not focusing on any of the characters and ends up being a mess.  Maniratnam has put for too many characters and focused on too many aspects and relationships between them - by the end, none of them seem developed enough for us to care for.

The concept of the movie seemed fine; the cliched good vs. bad played out by a few engrossing characters.  The interaction between the good and bad was electric.  Arjun and Arvindswamy took care of their roles quite well.  The hero was good - expressive but with a slight first film feel.  I am not quite sure what I felt about the heroine though.  Some of the scenes left a very good impression on me, especially the first scene between Arjun, Gautham and Thulasi.  But others seemed underdeveloped, like the one in which young boy breaks down and cries for his mother in front of the priest.  The annoying thing that goes on between the hero and the heroine seems a bit too flimsy and ends up being filmy.  The movie is thus an inconsistent experience that lost out on my interest after the first twenty minutes or so.  The first half  was a decent fare but as the movie progressed it got worse and ends up with a boring climax.  The climactic fight on the boat had all the cliched elements of a climactic fight.  The sequence that ends the movie is even more cliched.  I thought the movie demanded a certain ending but Maniratnam seemed to have thought otherwise and thus  gave it all a more unsatisfactory feel.  Thus all that waiting and teasers proved worthless in the end.

Let us hope we get something better from the Maniratnam factory next time.

A soap and a banana

The guy extended a ten rupee note and asked for a Hamam soap.  The shop keeper took the money and asked "One Hamam is it?".  The guy responded with "Yes and give me a banana for the remaining amount."  The shopkeeper retorted in a annoyed tone "for ten rupees?".  "Yes" said the buyer.  "The soap cost seven rupees.  There is no banana here for three rupees" said the shopkeeper.  The guy did not understand and ended up reiterating "Give me a banana for the remaining money".  Now, the shop keeper was clearly upset. "You cannot buy a banana here with three rupees.  There are no bananas that cost less five rupees".  The guy seemed zapped and only managed to say "five rupees!".  "Yes" said shop keeper and slammed the soap and remaining money in front of him.

Boy on the bike

I was going back home in auto that morning.  We were under a flyover when a bike passed in front of us.  The rider was in his school uniform.  He must have been in the 11th or 12th standard.  The bike had a pillion rider who seemed tense.  The rider's seemed nonchalant though.  I felt that there was something amiss with the rider.  His right shirt sleeve was lying loose on the side and did not contain his hand.  The guy was riding the bike with a pillion using only his left hand.  Is this brave or bravado?  Is he hardy or fool hardy? Did he deserve a pat or a kick on his back?  I sat staring at the guy with a mixture of shock and awe.

The Muddlehead by Ogden Nash

Poetry was never my favorite and it still is not.  Though I have written down some things that I claim fall under the poetry category, it was done out of arrogance rather than admiration.  I felt the dire need to express myself in that manner at that time.  At the present moment, neither do I have the dire nor the need and so that phase seems to have ended (at least for now).  Of course, there are a few poetic lines and words that come from the past.  The earliest ones are about about twinkling stars being diamonds and the violence that struck Jack and Jill.  The one that affected the most was about Johnny wanting to play and being affected by a downpour.

As time went on, William Wordworth praised a rainbow and Robert Frost expressed his disinterest in sleeping.  Of course, there was that appreciation that Ogden Nash sent to me, the born spectator.  I think that is almost it.  I don't think I can think of any other words from poetry other than "Kister Monductor".  I searched for these words in Google this morning and it tells me about the poem "The Muddlehead" written by our good old Ogden Nash.  "Hmmm, Mr.Nash again.  There should be more to this than a plain liking" said my mind.  So I looked up Wikipedia to find out who Ogden Nash is (or is it was).  I did not get past the first line.  Mr.Nash left this world a few days prior to my birth and so my over ambitious and superstitious mind screams "REBIRTH".  That being that here is what Mr.Muddlehead says and does.

(Ogden Nash)
The Muddlehead
I knew a man from Petushkee
As muddleheaded as could be.

He always got mixed up with clothes;
He wore his mittens on his toes,
Forgot his collar in his haste,
And tied his tie around his waist.

What a muddle head was he,
That man who lived in Petushkee!

They told him as he went about:
"You've got u'r coat on inside out!"
And when they saw his hat, they said:
"You've put a saucepan on your head!"

What a muddle head was he,
That man who lived in Petushkee!

At lunch he scratched a piece of bread,
And spread some butter on his head.
He put his walking stick to bed,
And he stood in the rack instead.

What a muddle head was he,
That man who lived in Petushkee!

He walked upto a tram one day
And climbed in very sprightly;
Conductor thought that he would pay,
Instead he said politely:

"Parding your beggon,
Kister Monductor,
I'm off for a week's vacation;
I stop you to beg your cramway tar
As soon as we reach the station."
Conductor got a fright
And didn't sleep that nite.

What a muddle head was he,
That man who lived in Petushkee!

He rushed into the first café:
"A railway ticket please, One way."
And at the ticket office said:
"A slice of tea and a cup of bread."

What a muddle head was he,
That man who lived in Petushkee!

He passed the man collecting the fares,
And entered a carriage awaiting repairs,
That stood on a siding, all by itself.
Half of his luggage, he put on a shelf,
The rest on the floor, his coat on his lap
And settled himself for a bit of a nap.

All at once he raised his head,
"I must have been asleep"- he said.
"Hey, what stop is this?" he cried
"Petushkee," a voice replied.

Once again he closed his eyes
And dreamt he was in Paradise.
When he woke, he looked about,
Raised the window and leaned out.

"I've seen this place before, I believe,
Is it Kharkov or is it Kiev?
Tell me where I am," he cried.
"In Petushkee", a voice replied.

And so again he settled down
And dreamt the world was upside down
When he woke, he looked about,
Raised the window and looked out.

"I seem to know this station too,

Is it Nalchik or Baku?
Tell me what its called," he cried.
"Petushkee' a voice replied.

Up he jumped: "It's a crime!
I've been riding all this time,
And here I am where I began!
That's no way to treat a man!'

What a muddle head was he,
That man who lived in Petushkee

Young in Mumbai

The guy got out of the plane first, his wife followed and somewhere in between came their son.  Mumbai was not warm; it was quite pleasant.  At the terminal, they got the prepaid taxi ticket.  Fortunately, there was no queue for the Taxi but some confusion ensued in finding an A/C taxi.  The driver was an old man with truck loads of eagerness for small talk.  The guy handed the prepaid bill and a small pink colored ticket that he received from the counter to the driver.  The driver returned the pink ticket which had Rs.15 mentioned on it.  "Airport waale appse lootne ka receipt diya hain" he said "aap he rakhiye isse".  This seemed like an ominous sign of unpleasantness coming by.  The guy got into the front seat while the wife and son got into the back. 

The sights of Mumbai captured their attention for the next few minutes.  During this time, the driver paid attention to the messiness of the roads.  Soon they go into the free way and the driver took his feet off the attention pedal.  He looked at the rear view mirror at the occupants of the back seat and then asked the man "bachchon ko Mumbai goomane aye ho".  The word "bachchon" touched a raw nerve but the man ignored and said "haan".  The conversation did not end there though.  The inquisitive driver continued with "aur madam?"  The guy turned red with embarrassment and anger.  Through gnashing teeth he said "peeche baitee hain".  "Nahin, mein madam ke baare mein pooch raha hoon" persisted the driver.  The man controlled him emotion by holding his hands in a tight bind and reiterated "peeche baitee hain".  "Oooooo acha" exclaimed the driver.  He took out a pair of spectacles from his pocket, put it on and looked intently at the wife in the rear view mirror.  "Bahut chotti dikti hain, donon ka umar mein bahut farak hain" concluded the driver.  By this time, the guy was looking intently out of the window at anything and everything; wayside scenes had never interested him more.  The thought "such a nice place" forced its way into his mind.

"Nahin nahin" chipped in the wife with a blush.  "Oooo sorry" said the driver "galti ho gaya".  The driver now continued with his apology wherein he touched upon his age, his poor eyesight, the guy having a shave to look younger and so on to make worse an already embarrassing situation.  "Where the hell is that damned hotel?"

Innocence lost

A seven year old boy is desperate to reach his father.  He dials his father's mobile number on his mother's mobile but does not get any response.  He dials again with the same result.  The third time his father picks up and the son tells with a lot of urgency "Dad, Mom's laptop is not working".  Father says "mmmm hmmmm".  "But it is not working" cries out the son.  "Ok ok, I will check it when I get back" says the father before cutting the call.  A few minutes later, the father's mobile receives an SMS.  He notices that it is from his wife.  On checking, the father finds the message "Mom latop not working".  The father mutters a few innocent curses (what can he do; any curse worse than the innocent ones would only insult him).  He shoves the phone into a corner and continues with his work.  The morning was a particularly busy one and the father had very little time to play around with his son.  A little later the phone notifies the receipt of a message, this time on Whatsapp.  Assuming it to be one of those important official messages, the father picks up the phone, only to find that it is a Video message from his wife's phone.  The video takes a few minutes to download.  When it opens up he sees the laptop in question showing garbled data on the screen.  His son's voice in the background says "Mom's laptop is not working".  As he is saying this the camera turns to show his son's face.  The camera then turns back to the laptop as it is restarted.  The screen comes up with some kind of screen with Dell written on top.  His son zooms into the screen to give a momentary glimpse of the screen.  As he is doing this he says "See" and with this the video ends.

The Fathers stares at phone display for some time.  He then replays the video with a smile across his lips.

The name is Bond, Ruskin Bond

One Friday I found myself in Delhi for a not so interesting meeting.  The Delhi branch of my company was planning a trip to Mussoorie.  "Why don't you join?" was the question.  Any response other than no seemed rude and that evening I found myself surrounded by a bunch of drunks, as we sat around a sidey bar in Gurgaon.  Like "the last supper" this was the "last drink" prior to boarding the bus to Mussoorie.  We were soon flying across Delhi towards UP and in the direction of the mountains.  Some 80 odd kilometres from the start there an explosion and our tempo traveler lost control for a moment - Flat tyre.  While the driver changed tyres, we had a few sips of lousy tea at a Dhabba on the other side of the road.  There were no further incidents till Mussoorie.

The place of stay at Mussoorie was fine but I was disappointed by the place itself.  From all those Ruskin Bond novels I had expected a cold and snowy place with a great view of the snow packed (or is it snow capped?) Himalayas.  I had got my geography and season wrong.  So neither were the snow packs (or caps) seen or felt.  To me the place seemed to be a cross between Ooty and Yercaud.  The day's plan did not sound exciting.  A visit to a waterfall close by, which many in the group claimed was lousy and then nothing else.  Evening, I planned to go down to the village where Ruskin Bond lives and try to get a signature out of him.  I did not know exactly how to do it but that was the plan.

The guys were absolutely right about the water fall.  It was lousy - very little water and a lot of garbage all around.  To top it these guys had built all kinds of parks and what nots around the place.  Thus the place looked worse; reminded of those dreadful picnic spots.  The sight seeing was done by lunch and all of us being dead tired of the previous night's journey hit the bed for a siesta.

I woke up at around 4:30 pm and walked down to Jay's room.  Sandeep and Jay had shown great interest in meeting Mr.Bond, who lives in a village called Landour.  Google map claimed that the place was some 6 kilometres from where we stayed and we decided to walk to it.  After some distance we asked someone for Landour.  He informed us to "continue a few furlongs" in what seemed like a typical small town manner.  We  walked some more.  It was now a good 45 minutes since we had got out but we had not even reached the end of Mussoorie.  So we would not have covered more than a kilometre.  We looked around and asked a rickshaw fellow to take us to Landour.  He refused it point blank saying he only went round Mussoorie; for the place mentioned we would need a jeep.  For the jeep, we have to travel back to the hotel; another 45 minutes back that is.  Jay suggested, quite pointlessly I thought, let us walk some more.

We walked past a Tibetan restaurant that Sandeep claimed was very popular.  We were so full of the lunch and the growing disappointment of the pointlessness of the trip that we walked on.  We were crossing a book shop when I suddenly saw the name "Ruskin Bond" written on a board.  Besides the board, the man himself was seated sipping a cup of tea, while a set of people were buzzing around.  My eye ran back to the board and it said that Ruskin Bond usually spent his Saturday evenings at the shop signing books and meeting people.  We thanked God for not having found a way to reach Landour and jumped into the shop.  Then books were bought, hands were shook, signatures were taken, words were spoken and photographs were taken.

What happened earlier and beyond did not matter now.  The trip was a huge success.  We had met Bond, Ruskin Bond.

Of Illayaraja, GM and NEP

Growing up in Chennai, I have constantly run into Illayaraja - songs on radio, titles on posters and movie credits, articles in news paper and praise on people's tongue.  I have always liked his music, I think (S.A.Rajkumar and Chandra Bose were not much of a choice anyway).  Some of his songs stay with me forever while others I forgot till hear them in some odd place.  The songs from Mella Thiranthatu Kadavu, Nizhalgal, Mouna Ragam, Idayam, Agni Nakshathram, Apoorva Sahodarargal and some others are songs are memorable.  Then there were those non-film music "How to name it" and "Nothing but the wind", which I remember for reasons other than the music itself.  For a long time I wanted to own these albums but could never lay my hands on them.  I kept thinking I am missing something big in the music world till the time I realized it did not matter.  For me the greatest liking for Illayaraja songs is the nostalgia of  my very young days that comes by when I hear a segment from his song.

But things started changing in the 1990's.  MTV landed in India and the spectrum of music that hit me suddenly grew exponentially.  With more music to digest than my small head can take, I had to make choices.  Thus Illayaraja's music started moving to the peripherals of the spectrum. In the end, what remains today is nothing more than nostalgia.  Even that loses out when I think of that traumatic evening when I was trapped among a few hard core Illayaraja fans.  These guys were going gung-ho about "Rak muthu Rakku" from "Yajaman" in a small hostel room.  They went on and on; playing that song in a loop a million times.  A bloody mediocre sound that these guys claimed had the greatest beat on earth.  The trauma of that evening turned my mind and whatever else against Mr.Rasas mujic.  Of course, A R Rahman's music which came by around then impacted my expectations from Tamil movie music and since then Illayaraja's music just could not live up to it.   

The coming years brought in a new generation of music directors, including the Illayaraja's reasonably talented son, and many a fresh ideas.    The book of history started getting chapters with the name Illayaraja mentioned in it.  Still a few directors (especially in Malayalam) stuck on with the tried and tested Illayaraja  music.  But Guatham Menon decided to rewrite history by making an epic love story that revolves around Illayaraja's master pieces.  The sun which was at the brink of the western horizon started moving up to the east.  Old fans cropped up on facebook.  Old Illayaraja songs were back (but no "Rakku muthu Rakku" thankfully).  Reviewers talked about the current breed of music directors owing their bread and butter to the great Illayaraja and how these fellows showed their respect by playing a bit some old song at this and that spots in their movies.  This went on for many weeks till...

Finally, the day of the music release came by.  The songs came out on the Internet.  Facebook was filled with "Wows", "Amazing", "Maestro" and what nots.  I listened to "Ennodu va va" and "Sattru Mumbu".  The former a retro song that filled me with indifference and the latter a bombastic number with many violins screaming out in agony that filled my senses with god knows what.  Many people thought these were the best (or should I say bestest) songs of the lot.  Apparently, these two songs were proof enough of Illayaraja's magical touch continuing to exist.  "It shows" they said "Illayaraja has not lost it" (whatever that is I did not know he had it in the first place).  I did not like the songs; to me they seemed less than mediocre.  Had it been anyone other than Illayaraja people might not have given it more than a listen.  As a matter of fact, if Rahman had been the music director then people would have protested by fasting to death in front of his house.  Thankfully, this is Illayaraja's music so everyone's happy and rest of us (who don't belong to the group called everyone) have to grin and bear it.

The movie finally got released a few days back.  Gautham Menon (GM), I believe, is one of the most over rated directors in the movie industry.  I found his great "Kaaka Kaaka" (or was it kaake kaake) barely tolerable.  The story line was not the common sort but the execution seemed quite miserable - it did not seem natural at all.  Everything seemed like an act; an attempt to let us know this is one cool movie from one cool movie maker.  His "Vaarnam Aayiram" seemed much worse - it was quite incomprehensible.  Before we could connect with a scene the movie had moved on to another scene and I was left with the feeling of watching a disjointed photo album.  Again it seemed too cool for its own good.  Then came "Vinnaithandi varuvaya".  This movie was a much different experience from the earlier movies and for the first time my opinion of GM was pointing towards the positive side.  The movie proceeds beautifully (both flow and look), with great music and possibly a career best performance by Trisha.  If not for the slight botch up of pre-climax sequences it was a good movie.  The only spoiler was Chimbu's dialogue delivery - he somehow seems to have the ability to convert words in wooden blocks before they a spit out at us.  Maybe he uses some bold-ed font, which hurts our fragile ear drums.  The Telugu version was a bit worse.  Nag Chaitanya belongs to the other end of the spectrum from Chimbu and Samantha's Jessie seemed a trifle too sweet compared to the what-the-hell-cloud-she-be-thinking Jessie by Trisha.  So on the whole, I was in a positive frame of mind about Neethane En Ponnvasantham due to the marked improvement in GMs movie making abilities.  This resulted in my being present in the cinema hall running Neethane En Ponnvasantham a day after its release.

The theater was half filled in when we walked.  The expectations, as expected, were high due to the coming together of GM, Jeeva, Samantha and Illayaraja.    The posters screamed that this is the greatest love story ever made.  It would be like growing up with these two characters, Varun and Nithya.  The ups and downs of their life and more importantly love life.  Soon a group of boisterous guys walked in and they were rambling aloud about "Machan, this..." and "Machi, that ...".  "There seemed to be the end of the movie experience; these guys would comment their head out and not a word of the movie would be heard" thought I.  I should have picked up one of "very nice" multiplexes rather than Mayajaal. But the damage is now done and the movie has just started rolling.

It starts out well with some college scenes and a song that starts off with "Pudikila mamae...".  For some reason, the song and sequence reminded me of Twisted sister's "We are not going take it".  Reasonably amusing start with Santhanam some decent laughs.  Then Samantha enters and Jeeva falls in love at first sight or maybe not the first sight but more like the first re-sight (Hey Samantha and Santhanam spell nearly the same, are they long lost siblings is it?).  These are mushy and gooey scene with Santhanam being the saving grace.  He seems as embarrassing as I was to be a part of that scene (must be much worse for him being on the wrong side of the screen - wait a minute, does this movie have a right side of the screen?).  It has been a few weeks since I have seen that movie but I remember Jeeva and Samantha being too giggly in that scene. But I liked the way that scene end with the the two lovers (maybe) deciding to talk to each other and then we jump into a flash back.

As the flash back unfolded, I realized that I was right about the "love at first re-sight" thought.  The previous sequence was not their first meeting, they had met earlier, many times.  The first Varun - Nithya meeting happened when they were young and as in many movie they seem to fall into something that can possibly be called loved unless someone says "What the hell! How can they fall in love so young?", in which case, it can be called affectionate feeling that can be misunderstood as love to a few silly onlookers (who probably should not be onlooking in the first place - it is none of their business).  Then he ditches her by choosing to play cricket rather than  merry go rounding with her, in which his heart lay.  She loses heart, swears never to fall in love with or show affection (for mature audience only) to anyone in her pretty existence.  God obviously listened to this swearing and decides to move Nithya's house to an area far enough from for Varun's so that they don't meet for next six or seven or eight years.

We jump to six or seven or eight years later when Nithya ends up looking like the actress Samantha and Varun like Jeeva.  They meet at some tuition class where not school children looking school children meet.    A glance from the corner of their eyes results in instant recognition of each other ("Oh God! Its that bugger who refused to merry go round with him", "Shit man! I should have merry go round with her").  I basically don't remember much of what happens after that but soon soon Varun asks Nithya for a coffee date at the you-can-find-it-everywhere-Chennai-of-movies potti kadai right outside the tuition center.  GM chooses this meeting to enlighten us how it feels to be in the middle class.  Enlight 1: Middle class folks vacation in Yercaud a not Australia.  Enlight 2: The middle class chap can only buy two cups of "chaya" with the money in his pocket; a biscut to dip into the "chaya" is out of the question - too expensive.  That per-se does not sound too ridiculous on paper but it was pure cheese that was dripping from the screen.  It must have been the way Jeeva explained what a cool place Yercaud, (which in fact it is).  But that looking at the pocket when Nithya asks for a biscuit what bad.  I found that whole sequence cliched.  I thought the middle class concept has been brought out very well in movies like "3" and "Naan Mahaan Alla".  I think it is GM's ability to be unnatural in the most natural of the sequences that is the issue.  This is definitely not cool.

Post vacation, Varun shifts schools to spend a lot of time with Nithya and they romance around freely.  Soon jealousy strikes and they split unceremoniously. The next meeting occurs at the college.  They fall in love all over again - meaning some more singing (I don't think they dance since this is a realistic movie), some more romancing, a lot of hugging, dialogues filled with more cheese than pizza hut's cheese stuffed crust pizza.  We go through the whole process of falling in love again.  This time we have Yuvan Shankar Raja crying out "Adadaaaaa" for our pleasure.  I was completely lost and disinterested by this time.  I was desperately clawing at my phone trying to play tic-tac-toe for some time.  Then my interest turned to the cynical comments from the front benchers.  Ironically, the movie and Illayaraja's heavenly music were far too distracting.  But the snatches we heard from them were satisfying - We were not the only ones goinf through the pain.  Seeing others go through the pain with us is always satisfying.  As Vadivelu said "Why blood? Same blood!".   By the time, interval strikes us, the hero learns a very important lesson about life - if you don't make money then life is going to a bummer and pretty much every one is going to walk over your father, mother and brother (but if you are lucky enough to have the greatest family on Earth then each member of the family would sympathize with someone else in the family and not call names at each other).  This lesson leads to Varun taking a big decision and the loving couple falling out of love with each other.  So by now, the match is evenly placed with Love and Breaking up scoring two goals each.  Let us see what happens in the second half and the big question - will this match go into sudden death.

At the interval, I heard someone mention "Hey, let us not tell him how lousy the movie is.  Let him come and watch.  Heeee heeee heeeee".  How can the world end when there is so much good will available?  The second continued the downward trend.  It somehow seemed a trifle better than what happened in the first.  While the first half was boring and cheesy, second was sporadic and melodramatic (not necessarily the acting but the situations were definitely melodramatic).  The flaws were many but it is the pretense of realism and what I ended up perceiving as a display of GM's utter conviction of his greatness that made the movie unbearable.  Some of the annoying aspects that came up in the movie in the second half are given below.
1. The "ennodu vaa vaa ..." sequence with all those mails that the hero wished to send but did not till much later that makes the heroine blush with happiness.2. The penultimate scene where the heroine and hero spend some time together a day ahead of the important marriage.
2. At the end of the above mentioned sequence the hero's father gives the most important piece of advice (how many times have we seen this shit?).
5. The whole climax by which time everyone in the audience were screaming "Adadaaaaaaa..."

Obviously I did not like this movie but I have seen so many comments and reviews mentioning that this movie is a classic.  The only reason I could decipher - It says love is a bed of rose plants; there are roses but there are thorns too.  Why is that very different and why should we appreciate a movie for that?  I can understand if this is a first time movie maker.  This is Gautham Menon who has made God knows how many movies.  I mean if the reviewers keep encouraging this guy he will not make another movie half as good as VTV.  Anyway, lots of money wasted on a boring two and half hours that completely ruined the reputation of Jeeva and Santa Maria (or was it Santa Clause, Santhanam; oh no it was Some one that).