aaaaa fireee

(One morning, all bleary eyed, I walked up to the wash basin at the nearer of the two ends. After theatrically splashing my face with water and admiring myself on the mirror with the water rolling down my face, I caught sight of  a lone hammer, held captive, balefully staring out of the open door. Below the glass casing was written : "hammer for breaking the window glass for emergency exit" . My cognitive powers had not peaked as yet as it was still pretty early in the morning and my pausing and parsing was going all wrong...)

From my travel diaries : Exigency plan for a burning train (a step by step guide to exit through the emergency exit)

What to do when the AC coach catches fire?

Aaaaaaaaaaah fire… eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee save meeeeeeeeeeee?

No , this is not the right response. what is the right way? read on.

• Don’t panic. Stay put. Take a deep breath. Let it out, see whether that blows off the fire. No?  "NOOOO.WHAT DO I DO NOW?"  you enquire politely.
• Keep calm. You are in an AC coach, maintain your dignity. Politely apprise your co-passenger of the situation in crisp English. "Fire fire aaag aag (with appropriate hand gesticulation)"
• Next, look for an escape. Emergency windows are located near the ends of all AC coaches. Locate it.
• Once you have located it, collect your wits, get a hold of yourself and move on. you need to find the hammer. The hammer at the end of the compartment.The light at the end of the tunnel. (Send a small prayer to make sure you are moving towards the right end as the hammer is placed only at one end sometimes).
• The seconds are ticking by.Run. Courage favours the brave, brave favours the fortune, no fortune favours the brave. Don’t be confused like this, be calm. Proceed to the exit. Avoid stampede. Make a single file. Sing 'fire in the mountain' and people will run run run, Run along with them. 
• Now pay attention.The next step has the distinction of extracting an expletive out of every person who has tried it, realized the stupidity of all this and saved himself, by jumping out of the train. But you are cultured, you speak fluent English. So when you see 'this'… don’t panic. 
• 'This'

The hammer with DIY instructions on top.





• ’this’ that you see near the door might seem like one of Jigsaw’s wicked schemes, it is if you think about it… but you become a better person for it.
• Wipe off the stray tear that has trickled down. Fight the overwhelming urge to jump off the train. It might just be two steps away,tantalisingly close, but it is not the right thing to do. Be stupid, be noble and don’t be shallow. 17 virgins are waiting for you in heaven (it is not a good thing, you are actually gay). Don't cry. Don't die 
• Clear you head, Take a close look:

'Break the glass'
How?
With a key (please observe the picture closer)
No key.
Coin?
Ok… Doesn't work, sweaty hands...
Scratch with nails ya…
Aaah that sound makes me uneasy.
Ok break it with your shoulder.

Cool beans.

• Once you have the glass out of your way take out the hammer. A small word of advice here, please don’t pause here.Why? You would look extremely stupid standing with a hammer after breaking a glass for it.There is no 'save' for you. Rush back into the inferno, against the tide, against common logic, against your faith. Trust Indian railways. This is the moment of truth.
• Find a window, swing the hammer back, aim and let it rip. You should have a good, free swing now that most of your friends have already jumped their way out of the coach through the doors.

*CRACK*

Take another swing

*crack*

Another one

*crack*

With all your might

*SPLINTER*

• Get out, the heavens will open, the rain will pour; and my friend you will remember, Hope is a good thing, may be the best of things and no good thing ever dies.

The epic war of spices, The final Solution

History never lies. A period of peace is always followed by war and the following paragraphs, as a mark of this impending violence, further ahead, may be accentuated by many commas violating the peace of small and simple sentences.

The people of Andhra loved kara kozhambu. They enjoyed it so much that they decided to ask for the recipe. Now, it is human tendency to balk in the glory of your success for some time; especially when you hold all the aces.
Polite rejection:

“Thambi enga vandhirkeeha?? (where have you come? brother)”
“Naaku recipe kavali ( I want the recipe)”
“No”

The actual exchange:
“Thambi enga vandhirkeeha?? ( where have you come?)”
“Naaku recipe kavali ( I want the recipe)”
“For what?”
"Kara korambu"
"What?"
"Kara kolambu?"
"Haha what?"
"Kara kodambu"
"Hahaha Pronounce it correctly and we will see"
"Kara kombu (hot horn, in tamil)"
"You can go ask angry cows for that"
*storms off*

The Telugu vadus(people) found the 'ழ' (zha) of the tamil horribly difficult to pronounce. Even though, a lot of native Tamil speakers didn’t pronounce it correctly, the tamil took great pleasure in making fun of the telugu folk. This derision was so rampant that the guests were becoming a bit uncomfortable with the hospitality. Added to that, they were also fast becoming the butt of xenophobic jokes; the laughing stock(of kara kozhambu), if you may.

One starry night, in an open bar, as in, one without a roof, at the edge of madras, 'unknown' by the name Ennore, a portmanteau of enna and ooru (what + place),a gruff, drunk voice broke out amid the general buzz of gibberish.

“Let us show them kuzka’s mutton” roared ABCD Raju. By now, people with two initials in Andhra had begotten kids with three initials and ABC Dharma Raju decided to add a fourth one by shortening his name for good fortune.
“Is it kulka?” inquired his diminutive friend, afraid of the lampooning that might follow later
“No Kuzka, Kuska I think… Eh whatever, let us show them that ra…” Raju retorted.

Confusion followed conniption which was further followed by commotion. It is believed that, following the war cry, all hell broke loose and Raju, in the middle of the resulting melee, vowed just deserts for all the repression and ridiculing. People still talk about the crazy eyes of ABCD Raju on that night. This particular expression can still be found on the expressive faces of the villain characters of telugu and tamil cinema. On that day though, ABCD Raju, who had powerful, in fact very powerful, political friends, went back to plot his revenge.

One note: no more, no less: No one knows what Mr Raju meant by kuska, he was pretty drunk on that day. Later though, this kuska became widely used to refer to chicken biryani without chicken, mutton biryani without mutton or vegetable biryani without vegetables, a total waste, reminding one of the ‘total waste’- ness of the uproar that day.

The small outrage in a nameless place, north of madras, had suddenly rekindled the rage that had been dormant all this time. People bayed for blood in the streets. The fight threatened the whole of south India. The sleeper cells of the weapons divisions, disbanded a decade ago were woken up for what would be later be referred to the Machilipatnam project (1975). A project whose aim was to settle the spice war once and for all.

The 'solution' was called 'TsarGonkura' or Emperor Gonkura(This is now deployed in a controlled environment for civil consumption as Gonkura pachadi). Originally developed in the labs under highly secure surveillance with great care, this project was a first of its kind. The raw materials were procured from various parts of Andhra with the best of available quality. In a rare show of intelligence, they were transported in public vehicles like busses, to avoid detection by spies. Some of these busses, in state of derelict disrepair are still running today reminding the few who know, of its glorious past.

The Tsar Gonkura had a three stage core. A sour base, a fissile red chili paste and an oil tamper. This was designed to obliterate the entire intestine by the time it reached the rectum. The design was slightly modified later, just before testing, to lessen the impact on the native civilian population as it would have otherwise been detrimental to a ‘show of strength’ if no one could ever eat it. The first test was carried out in a controlled manner beside the river Godavari with large amounts of ‘ice water’ reserves (the river water flowing just a few feet away acting as a back up).

A news report on the first test conducted at an undisclosed location on the river bank of Godavari 50 KM from Rajamundry(1979):

“Within seconds after the ball of Gonkura touched the palate, a blood curdling yell was heard that shattered the windshields of busses moving peacefully across the Godavari bridge. This was followed, almost instantaneously, by the face turning bright red and water condensing at the eye level flowing down like the river Godavari. The fall-out lasted for days with the ensuing diarrhea refusing to respond to all known medication. The yell was so loud that it was recorded at a Kashmir radio station, listeners of which disregarded it as a particularly long and irritating static noise. Shammi Kapoor Who was holidaying there, was believed to have mobilized his men to look around for the prankster making fun of him.”

The news of this test shook everyone up. None more than the neighbouring state, which faced an imminent threat. Fearing insanity if the war continued any longer, the Tamil population conceded their defeat. A treaty was signed in 1980 to start making sweets instead. This unwittingly saved a million lives; probably more, if you included the ‘adventurous’ foreign tourists who might have wanted to get a taste of the local cuisine. Many recipes were exchanged by both sides during the signing of treaty as a goodwill gesture. By the early 80s as a result of the white flag, the three part composition used in Tsar Gonkura was successfully deployed for peaceful purposes; many new pickles were created and to great success.

In Andhra the experiments still continued. Avakkai was used instead of Gonkura to increase the sourness of the base; this was however channelized to constructive use with curd rice, delivering gastronomic kicks, going down with the cool curd rice. As a result of the pact, new research was initiated in making sweets like the complicated Pothereklu.

Over the years, many other chutneys, mixes, concoctions of various intensities have been reported across India. There are unsubstantiated claims of an Englishman running around like a colloidal particle after having a taste of the marathi “thecha” made from chili and garlic. Till date though, Tsar Gonkura remains the wildest and hottest concoction made by sane humans etching out a permanent place in the Indian folk lore.

~fin

The epic war of spices : Part 3, The rejoinder

Part three of most stories are mind numbingly boring. The chief selling point is the apparent progression of the story or the apparent introduction of plot changing characters. This blog doesn’t employ a PR agency to moderate mass messaging.  Hence the blow of boredom is not going to be cushioned..

By 1967,where this part takes off, the congress was all but uprooted from Tamil nadu. This, though irrelevant to this story, holds some significance to the readers of this blog who can leave this passage right now and read up briefly, on the fascinating history of the madras presidency and later the madras state. The links may really be interesting and you might end up forgetting that you were directed to those pages from here. So, I beseech you to be lazy to click on those links and to continue with the next paragraph.

Before getting started... what is a response to a rejoinder called? God only knows a? ok.
 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Madras welcomed guests with open arms and soon businesses were set up. There were a lot of people from Andhra, Kerala and some from Karnataka too.The Marwaris gheroed Sowcarpet. One wonders if Sowcarpet was two deg. cooler than the rest of Chennai(Chinnai is hot yaar). History is not very clear about this. 

In time, many Andhra messes crop up in lacalities with considerable Telugu poppulation serving up piping hot Andhra meals. The amount of rice served in these places per day, if stacked one behind the other at one rice thickness would… hmmm… ok this was really before the time of internet so placing an absurd comparison on this is beyond me…  let us say it  would cover 2-3(say) foot(d) ball fields or something. The essence of the statement though, is that large quantities of rice were served.But, this was not the novelty; the novelty of the place was finding more green chillies than vegetables in the various broths served by them and the Gunpowder, silently lurking just out of eyesight.

While this Andhra mess movement grew, offering a spicy alternative to the pretty bland local cuisine, the other messes like the ‘erode kurinji mess’ and the ‘namakal nayagan mess’ started losing its patrons. The cold war had fizzled out by now, but the slow weapon deployed by Srinivas was working with cold precision. It was hurting in a way not originally designed for; but, it was hurting.

The Dravidian movement was at its zenith and anything non Tamil was met with, err… Tamil. The Tamil mess uzhiyar sangam (TMUS) (Tamil mess employees union) approached the Chief Minister with a petition banning Andhra messes from Tamil Nadu. “Andhra is also north Indian, anything north of Chennai is north India” reasoned a visibly tempestuous Sathiyamoorthy. 

The CM heard the petition out and is said to have remarked "andhra mess a? ithu enna vengayam" (what Andhra mess?? onions!!)

One more note: Though it is puzzling, this random reference to onions; it is a popular phrase first used by one of the then CM’s mentor ‘Periyar’. Used with the right intonation and swagger it can be remarkably dismissive of the topic in discussion.

The CM’s aide though, one Mr Chokkalingam, was a shrewd fellow. He understood that there were already too many protests to organize, quell and ghost direct. This issue cannot become another one of those. He walked home that day, contemplating his move against this new problem at hand.

“What do I do? What do I do?”

Onions!! the CM’s voice played in his head.

“Hehe… onions…Wait... onions… Why not?” He got up. Sambar shall be fought with sambar, kootu with kootu, poriyal with poriyal (various constituents of a Tamil cuisine). He recalled his wife Meenakshi’s first attempt at cooking. It had been a disaster. What had started out to be an edible broth had turned out so spicy that he had playfully named it "Kara Kozhambu" (through running nose and tears). That ‘kara kozhambu’ had onions which were small islands of solace in the swelttering sea  of orange. It was wild. but like some wild things, delightfully so, and with a potential to take on the formidable foe.

Mr. Choks slyly introduced a tempered version of Meenakshi’s recipe at strategic hangout spots. The Kara Kozhambu, a devilish concoction of spices magically burned tongues while putting a smile on the crying faces. The play of various emotions on the face was an added bonus for the cook to watch. 

Strangely, this was followed by a lot of culinary experimentation on both sides. A lot of cuisines were ‘Indianised’. Slowly gobi machurian, originally from a place near Gobi (not gobichettypalayam), chicken 65, maggi noodles, etc. were included as a part of the 'cuisine'. A period of happiness and contentment followed.

But… things change... part 4...

The epic war of spices : Part 2, The rebuttal

The Head of bio warfare, Capsaicin division, Andhra - one Mr R.T. Srinivas was given the task of answering back to the Tamil taunt. This Srinivas was a man of considerable fortitude. He was lean, healthy and well fed. (What Varadhachari would have called a ‘chamathu kutti’ which translates to ‘smart small’, which actually implies a smart boy). He also had a keen taste for fashion and many believed that in this regard, he was way ahead of his time. He would carry off pink and yellow with such grace and masculinity that the womenfolk stayed away from those colours for the next few days.

He also spoke many languages.  He spoke English too.  

“What re? their sambar is spicy?”

“Yes saar” his understudy replied.

“I like this sweet flavour of bisibelabath, why spoil it in the name of war ra?”

“Dunno saar”

“Our boss is going mad over this issue... let us see… lunch chesara?” (had lunch?)

“Yes saar”

“What?”

“Curd rice with mango pickle.”

“Oh... I love that, sweet and sour... they are very tasty.”

“Yes saar”

He absentmindedly blew at his hair from his lower lips, a mannerism that he had picked up from the movies. His hair fluttered coyly in response.

A few more seconds passed. The clock on the wall ticked away.

Exhaling deeply, he got up. “I’m going to eat now, let me think about it while I eat…”

“Ok saar”

“Please finish the report the PM asked for. ‘Open drains as a prospective weapon of self-destruction’ or something no? That one…”

“Yes saar, Saar but that is not even in our scope saar”

“em cheyyali babu… they are saying garden drainage toilet drainage something and all, all smell the same no? what is difference…”

“ok saar”

“like this only is life, plus order is from the centre,nothing can be done ”

“Ok saar”

“sarra babu, nenu vellostanu”(I’ll be back)

“Ok saar”. 

So, while our Srinivas takes his lunch, he encounters ‘Curd chilli’ (a direct translation furnished for the benefit of the English speaking population). The Side dish, as they were called (not the ones we wrongly refer to now; stuff like pickle, chicken 65 or roasted peanuts), for curd rice, covered a variety of edible delights. The salted pickles, the raw onions, the chutneys, and for the adventurous ones, raw green chillies. The Curd chilli, being munched by Srinivas presently, is chilli emasculated by drying it in the sun after dunking it curd and salt. It is found in both Tamil and Andhra cuisines.

Srinivas gets his ‘eureka’ moment as he licks the last of his fingers and reaches for the glass of water. He leans back allowing the moment to pass, letting the bile settle down. He stares at nothingness for a while and nods off to sleep.

A Chilli Cries for help as it is slowly pulled into the quagmire of sour curd. The cries become more and more strident as it nears its death. Finally, there is nothing but deathly silence.

A lone tear streaks across Srinivas’ face. He wakes up, “I shall never have this again, I shall become a vegetarian like Gandhi. "Wait what? no...“. In his confusion, He is suddenly struck with a bright idea.

Note: Had this been a story written by a fellow who had an inclination to stitch in historic events for drama, Srinivas, at this juncture would have run on the streets naked, shouting “devudaaaaa”. But no. People of Andhra look down upon such things and running naked is a strict no no.

“Reddy garu, I have a plan.” Srinivas gasped. He paused for a bit, panting at the door way, having ‘fast-walked’ across the lawn. Reddy garu or A.V. Raghava Reddy was Srinivas's reporting officer.

“What?”

“Sir(not saar, because srini is posh), if we slowly increase the spiciness in our food, uniformly, in small quantities, such that even our people don’t realize the difference, over time, the Sambar, the weapon of the Tamils would be part of our regular stock. In a few years, we can surely render their 'sambar sadham' impotent.”

“Hmmm…” Reddy removed his spectacles with his pudgy fingers and wiped them. He was a stout man. When he leaned back, the chairs creaked. The biggest research in the weapons division was on the durability of A.V. Raghava Reddy’s chair. If they could only isolate the element that kept the chair together, they could design bomb proof tanks, tank proof vehicles and dent proof bumpers and so on. In fact, the many nips on the chair falsely attributed to the mice in the office were actually the samples that had been removed surreptitiously for testing.

Putting them glasses back on, AVRR exhaled, “but, Srinu we need to respond spectacularly. They will think we are sissies otherwise”

“Sir, you are right, it does seem too slow a process, but we have to take a lot of factors into consideration. Primarily, our finances. The "unscientific" bifurcation has left Andhra poorer. It would be a huge setback if we were to waste funds on a weapon that would be ousted easily by the Tamils two years down the line.”

“I can see your point Srinu... It is also true that you are a 'deergadarsi' like lord Krishna. I always like that about you... But in this case... "

“Sir, if I may add, Madras is going through a tumultuous period with Rajaji facing opposition from lot of quarters. If we can ever do something like this, it is now.”

“You have started advising me now”

“Saar no saar(the crowd pleasing version of sir)… your experience is my age, what saar, you are telling like this… just telling my view”

“Hmmm… let me see”

“Also, sir, to speed up the process we can use this mixture we have manufactured in our lab, I was just reviewing the results of its testing last week. It is a highly potent weapon for air attacks leaving the opposition sneezing and watering through their eyes. It incapacitates the opposition for up to four hours. But frankly Sir, I really don’t see it being deployed in the near future. I thought we could use the composition for this programme, with your permission.”

“For ingestion?”

“Yes…”

“Oh!”

“Yes… it does not taste that bad actually.”

“what? You have tasted it?”

“Accidently”

“what is it? safety is as simple as ABC or something right? always be careful or something… what happened to all that nonsense?“

“saaaar”

“Hmm... Ok ok I will see… but this is a nice addition now”.

“Yes, sir kandi podi”

“Thank you Srinivas, now you may leave”

“Thank you sir, it is also called GUN POWDER”

And thus began Operation Meals, Andhra Meals 

..... part 3

The Epic war of spices (Part 1)

Andhra did not get Chennai, or Madras as it was known then. The states were reorganized, boundaries fell, capitals rose and new states were formed. But, Andhra did not get Chennai. The newly formed states, Tamil Nadu (madras state, back then) and Andhra Pradesh though, never forgot what had transpired. There was residual anger under the surface of this uneasy calm,fanning up petty fires.

But, the animosity as it is today, between the two clans has nothing to do with the partition. It has innocent beginnings. It is also linked strangely to the sweetness of sambar in Karnataka (Who woud have thought sambar could be a bone of contention?).

Madras, a long time ago, took the sour and mildly sweet bisibelabath of Udupi and did away with the sweetness. The sambar, without its sweetness was hot, and spicy, and mildly sour. Gone were the sweetness of thoughts, actions and taste.

The first instance of this spicy sambar as always, can be traced back to a cook's smarts. Varadhachari, The head cook at the Chief Minister’s bungalow, Madras wanted to be rid of the ant problem in the kitchen. As he was tidying the place up, he saw his understudy slipping a few slabs of jaggery into a cloth bag.

“Edhuku da?” (for what?) he snarled. He was a man of quick temper and was generally as sour as tamarind rasam and as bitter as bitter gourd fry.

“Sambar ku na…” (for sambar / Anna,also na, are words for elder brother)

“Cha! Throw it out of the window; I have had enough with this nonsense. Today we are cooking sambar without jaggery.” 

“It will be too hot Anna”

“Nonsense!! Throw it!!”

“without jaggery?”

“Aama da” (yes)

Legend has it, that night, the Chief Minister’s bungalow glowed extra bright with the lights of the bungalow and the tummy of the occupants. The next day though, the bunglow and its occupants realised that this was actually tastier and that adding jaggery was in fact “nonsense”. They forgave Varadhachari but cautioned him to watch his temper and that his next transgression would be his last.As he was leaving the hall, after the inquisition, the matron of the family remarked “Varadhu, Please reduce the spice, but don’t add jaggery to sambar ever again”.

All was well. For the next few months at least. But, Varadhu, being Varadhu had to lose his temper again and this time it had consequenses. He became the unwitting protagonist of the fateful evening that started this cold, pile bleeding war.

The events of the day are mostly documented only through word of mouth. By stitching together the anecdotes of the many hands in the chef’s kitchen, the following has been agreed by most scholars as the most plausible story of that day. On that fateful summer  night though, no one spoke, and on the next day, most of them stayed in, refusing to come out. (rather, they stayed out, refusing to come in - the toilet complex was outside the premises). 

It is believed that Varadhachari had missed his afternoon kapi (coffee). His wife had fought with him over some domestic issue and had refused him his afternoon kapi.

andha round pathrathula pala sudavekadhengo nu eththandhadava sollirken?

How many times have I told you not to boil milk in the round bottomed vessel?

Mathadellam thekkanum di…

Others are already used and are to be washed

Thechu eduthukkapdadha?

 Can’t you wash them?

Ippo enna aachu?

What’s wrong with this now?

Neenga velila pongo, ongalukku coffee kadayadhu…

Get out no coffee for you today

He was actually angrier at not having kapi on schedule than he was with her for denying it. He stormed into the CM’s kitchen.

“What is all this?”

“Guests have come from Andhra na, I'm making our famous sweet free bisebelabath”

“Seri, for that you will waste this much rice a?”

“Anna… 4 people more”

“They won’t eat even half of this… remove some rice...”

“Anna, the spices are already...”

“Ennada noinoi nu, I said get some rice out of this Anda” (Anda- A large vessel)

“Seri na…”

What happened after that as they say is history. And the last line, as they say, is a cliché.

The main ingredient in the Sambar responsible for this, the powder of spices: Extracted, enriched and reduced into a highly spicy concoction was not sufficiently controlled by the heat exchanger (Rice). The nuclear fission instantly brought tears to the eyes, steam through the ears, mucus through the nose and other miscellaneous things from other miscellaneous orifices. 

In other circumstances, the incident at the bungalow would have evoked laughter, derision and a string of bad toilet jokes. Not this time, this was different, this was war. The “guests” from Andhra would take this personally.... 

.... To be continued

It is probably the idle mind, it is probably the devil.

There are virtues and there are vices and there are other things that you can get away with. Are virtues really virtues? Are vices really vices? Am I Nuts? Maybe…

Live your life with passion, they say , but not so much that you forget your material commitments. Live your life with devotion, they say, even if it means accepting things that you don’t agree or understand. Live without fear, live with gay abandon,live and be modest about it. Love one and all, love unconditionally, as long as the boundaries are not breached...

Do ‘good’; Selflessness is good, courage is good, dedication is good, sincerity is good, grammar is good revenge is good. No? ok not revenge then; or was your problem with grammar? 

Apparently, Everything happens for the good, but can’t happen according to your wish. Life doesn’t work like that. Don’t be selfish, think about others. Think about others who get it their way when you let go. It is a small price to pay for their happiness. Aren’t they happy? In their happiness, lies yours. There is a soul, there is conscience. There is god. In the end everyone gets their just desserts.

Life is overrated. There was never an alternative. Intelligence is overrated. Lies, More lies, more and more lies, arguments and counter arguments, who is to judge. You are corrupt only if you are caught. In general, I shall judge you for this, vilify you for that, string you up for this other thing, but glorify you later, for the same, after you die. Why? Mortgage.

Adhere to society, don’t step out. Complain about the herd, but not too loudly, the foxes await in sheep’s clothing. Interpolate faiths, extrapolate practices. Apply logic and reason, transcribe old superstitions.  Think, rationalize, Induce, instigate, rule, justify, moralize, patronize, neutralize.

All the rats are running to the sea. All the rats end up in the sea. But that is fatalistic; a destructive thought and a bad thought process. Constructive ones are those that involve stopping for breath, admiring, taking in the world around you, living in the present and running around trees; only to find others have left you far behind. 

Run, Just a little more, a few more steps,for all to change. Run, just a little more, only to find it all the same.

No. Not any more. change.

Write, sing, dance, laugh, play, live, lose, regret,cry, ache, pull yourself up again,take a deep breath, control your emotions, curb urges, calm them nerves, and feel at peace; enlightened, zen. There is nothing wrong with defeat,nothing wrong with death. You don't need to pray to keep them at bay nor do you need to fear the judgement day. It is going to happen on an another day if not today. 

Live with your convictions, your morals and only for yourself, even if it is wrong. The truth is there is really no 'right' or 'wrong'. Just a set of good arguments and a set of bad ones... 

some songs don't stick no?

Music is a medium; it makes the air around less overwhelming. Music is rhythm; the rhythm that flows through the way things are done; the typing, the speed, the pauses, the blinks and the restless taps  searching for words. Music is white noise. It brings down the volume on the strident disquiet of solitude. And sometimes, every once in a while,on one of those rare occasions, a piece of music catches you unaware and  transcends into something surreal. It demands that you listen to it, perceive it with all your senses, and you do, with rapt attention.

There is this song by the name “chandiranai” from the movie ratchagan. The song was pretty much in a nondescript corner in my player and used to pop up now and then only to be flipped over for the current favourites. But on this particular train journey, I was taken by surprise, spellbound at the beauty it could conjure.I was so hooked that I had to stop after three of four repetitions lest I dilute the effect it had on me. The breeze, the moonlight, and the rhythm the train set; somehow it was magical.

I had not come across the song’s picturization then. Hence, the mind painted its own picture. The motif being a duet set in a misty twilight / night bathed in moonlight with a gentle breeze; a bit of graceful dancing here and there along with silhouettes and shapes flitting through the conciousness now and then complementing the song's mood.  I didn’t know what the movie was about, neither did I know where the song came in or what the emotions were, leading up to the song. (Turned out , when I did watch the movie later, the all pervading emotion throughout the movie was one of boredom and hopelessness.) I had drawn my own version of the song and to me it was lovely.

What I didn't expect was the rude shock I had when I did eventually get around to watching it on TV; there was not a single shot of the moon. I was scandalized. I wondered what the director had smoked up to come up with this. After watching some of his other movies, later, I have come to realize now, that he has a natural flair for stupidity. But back then, I was a bit naive.When a song goes “chandiranai thottadhu yaar Armstrong a?” (Did Armstrong touch the moon?) and the rhythm is so lazy; so beautiful, why would he shoot anything else other than the moon? Why would he show us this nonsense? what is the theme of this anyway? 

Composing music for cinema is a two way process. The director sets the mood while the composer comes up with the tone. And they discuss. When I think about our commercial potboilers, I often wonder what the narrative to the composer would be like. Especially in cases where duets are used almost as place holders. “I’m going to New Zealand, I’m planning to take arching shots of the landscape, compose something for me”. Fair enough. Makes enough sense for the composer get a grip on the expected output. But when or how does a song go discordant?

Another song that comes to my mind here is “aathangarai marame” from kizhaku seemayile. I couldn’t forgive myself for watching it on TV for a long time. Personally I thought that the composer had over shot the narrative. I still wonder if the song really required such richness.If it did, then the visual imagery had failed to deliver on the promise.I do concede here that the song as a separate entity was beautiful.Similarly, In the more recent times, no other song has disappointed me more than “adiye” from Kadal. What a damp squib.

Circumspect is the word. Or you can probably insulate yourself. How? when a song that you have just heard, gives you the Goosebumps, floods you with vibrant imagery, assume that the video in all probability is hopeless. then proceed to watch it; get pleasantly surprised if it does live up to the song. If it did not, you always knew :D 

one @livetimefe on Twitter tweeted “what's stopping men from approaching women”

On an earlier occasion another female I know, had asked me the same question. Always weak with wit and spoken word, I shrugged the question off while another guy stepped in with his theory.

Again, like many other instances, I managed to formulate a response much much later...

Why?

Before I start off I would like to let you know here, that my “cogent analysis” of anything resembles a scatter graph on an excel sheet. Hence I’m going to refrain from “problem definition, problem analysis, problem solving, implementation and testing “

Also Indulging my lazy behind, I have decided to just pose questions, questions that seem to me, are relevant at some level to the broader problem. I’m just guessing here, but I’m also getting away with certain level of stupidity by framing it as questions… read on.

IS IT

• The General lack of treatment of men as men, not boys, women as women, not girls in the society when it comes to relationships, be it romantic or not? 

• The social taboo regarding puppy love rather than accepting the fact that it does exist and it is really just a phase and not a WMD? 

• The class differences, caste differences? Not everywhere probably, but subliminally expressed through snootiness? 

• A thing with the females brainwashed into believing that male advances are to be thwarted at all costs to maintain the family’s misplaced sense of ‘cultural acceptance’ (happens all the time, not exaggerating)? 

• The glorious case of rape culture in Indian cinema and society where a power struggle is always resolved through rape which in turn, fosters creeps? 

• The pathetic censor board, for the same reason as stated above? 

• The alpha male syndrome? The girl is expected to talk first, not the other way. 

• In its own small, tiny way, the huge taboo attached to cross cultural marriages, honour killings, the persecution of ‘love’ marriages etc. by the society in general? 

These are random questions… they are as valid as they are non sequitur and I’m just sounding out my own opinions on this. I’m as confused as I was when I started with this .
Some cities are culturally more evolved, some are less, and some seem to be evolved, on the surface. I probably have a vague sense of what I would tell my kids when they face the world at their time. But even then, I’m not sure, whether I would be ‘evolved’ enough to tackle their problems.

Just a small detour here… Earlier this week, I was reading this confession of a mass murderer. Apparently his biggest frustration in life was "not finding a girl to love him and not losing his virginity" on schedule. As I was reading it, there was a chilling realization that same guy, in India would have probably resorted to molesting/raping and once satisfied , would have probably been roaming around among us, continuing his dastardly acts.

It is also a pity really, that sexual violence was expressly allowed on cinema from times immemorial while a kiss, or a hug or any other open show of love was a taboo. I don’t support vulgarity, but a lot of things are not really vulgar, if you think about it… These expressions of love could have been celebrated all these years and we might have had a more tolerant & accommodating society now. I’m not saying, we would be devoid of creeps, I just believe the count might have been a little lesser and probably the interactions between the sexes would have been more comfortable.

hehe (tamil)

the heading is probably the funniest part of the blog na pathukoyen,...
y is it in inglipis? cos lotta my friends find it difficult to read tamil, even though they are conversant in speaking...
so... see second line e mokka :(
ok
 imagine john maclaine... stuck... and you are watching sun tv la tamil dubbed version of this movie...

john ella processayum close panunga inga cpu usage thalaiku mela pogudu

na try panren mary... ana inga program not responding nu error varudhu...

seekaram john avlo neramilla...

oh god…

ok na adutha room couputers lam switch off pannitu varen..

ok… oru nimisham… I love you…

*insert one number kiss*

Po mary… velila 20 minutes wait pannu, na varalena kozhaindaigalukku avanga dad fridge la chocolate vechirkaru nu sollu..

Oh johnnn..

Po mary, time illa… idha na pathukaren…

------------------------------------------------------- 

***Triiiing…

solluda peter…

john enga irukka… ne enakku beer vangitharen nu promise panniye…

modhala office lendhu vella varen… vandha rendu beer vangi tharen…

enna solara john….

Indha computer shut down aga matengudhu… na dhan last employee…

…!!!

Peter… enga pona…

Enna solara?

Aama sama sikkallula maatikiten…

Kavala padatha john… nyabaga irukka china vayasula namaba 1000 computer a crash pannirkom…

Chinna vayasula enakku andha jane oda iduppu dhan gnyabagam irukku…

Nanbaen da.... nee maravel illa john…

Seri sollu… onakku idha pathi edavadu theriyuma….

Na pakaren… oru 10 minutes la call panren

Inga 5 ke kashtam…

Seri ctrl alt del try panniya?

Try pannren.. *troubled grunts* Illa keys vela seiiya matengudhu….

Seri iru naan call panren….

Seekram peter… avlo time illa…

Puyal mari varen… ne manasa thalara vidadha…

Indha computer lam evlo kashtama irukku, enga naina sonnapove family business la enagi irukkanum… ithaneram sofa la chips saptutrupen…

hahaha... ana new jersey laye irundhirpa...
yea...
-------------------------------------------------------------

*mandatory flashback sequence*
john dinner ready… namba kids a kopudunga…

Kids, mela vanga dinner ready…

Varom dad..

Enna senjirka mary….

Ongalukku pudicha ham sandwitch dhan…

Nalladhan samaikara… baby, enakku vera pasiyum irukku….

john kids vandhuduvanga…

*insert ‘almost kissing’ sequence*

Vittu thallunga john, avangala koopudunga…

Awww baby… ippidi enna thalli vidradhu thappu…

Kids…. Enna panreenga…

Irunga dad… shut down aaga matengudhu….

*dad comes down, enters room* kids, mom ongallukaga wait panranga…

dei mark swtich off pannidalama?

Main a?

Aama pannalam… romba time aagudhu…
*end of mandatory flashback sequence*

-------------------------------------------------------------- 

*wakes up with a start… looks at the time*

Innum oru nimishathukulla ingendhu kalambalena sure a shuttle bus miss… apparam maapu vecchutayan aappu dhan… siruseriyile Samadhi nu newspaper la vandhudum…

Idhula power switch enga… idhuva? Oh god… idha dhan press pannanum polarku… mary I love you…

*presses switch.monitor makes a noise(crt monitor ya it will make noise ok… cpu shuts down..) the room is dark.…. let’s out a deep breath…

***tring.

john andha power…

switch a nan off panniten… thanks peter… na veetuku poren…

hahahahaha kalakitta champ…

*runs… the bus is leaving the place as he reaches the entrance…*

Mary…. Bus a niruthu…

John bus a niruthina climax mokka ayidum… neenga odi vandhu erunga….Melodrama ku kai neetren pudichukonga….

Mary….

John I love you…*cries*..

Mary… hang on…

*starts running, catches up, gets into the bus…. *

Oh john….

*insert kissing scene*

Eppidi!! sonnen la indha john late a vandhalum latest a varuvan…

*camera pans out… with the couple in a tight embrace… john in his sweat stained blue shirt and ties flailing about his neck, mary in salwar with the duppata flailing about*

wait indian aakiteno?? paravala... ivlo neenga padichade perisu nu nenakaren... thanks....

*rolling credits… *

doe eyed

b-i-r-i-y-a-n-i .. appa what Is this?

Biriyani, it is made with rice; very similar to your amma’s pulao.

Oh…appa appa *pulls his sleeve* water...

Ya, wait let him come,  I’ll ask him… *gestures for water across the hall*

Mango… grapes….

Yes and what fruit is that?

Papaya…

Good…

This?

Appa water…

The waiter is on his way… now tell me what this is..

This is water…

Is this water?

Yes…

Ok…

Hi

Hi

How are you two  holding up??

We are good, managed a decent breakfast…. Lunch was good… your girl wanted to cook. So we cooked together…

Really?  what did she do?

Sat on the counter-top and gave me orders…

Hehehe…

Ya we have come out for dinner now, was too lazy to cook. Caught an evening show and came over to our regular joint.

You can’t cook three meals a day for your daughter? What movie?

Random movie… Hollywood… it was an action movie, your darling daughter wanted to see it…

Oh!! You took her?!!

That is pomegranate…

Good how do you spell that?

I don’t know, I want water…

Wait wait… why are you so impatient?*waiter saves him, just in time* here help yourself.

Uncle this is normal, don’t you have chill water?

No no, you are not having that, you just recovered from cold… * at the waiter* this will do, thanks…

I want chill water.

No Shakti. Stop this nonsense… what do you want to eat? *signals the waiter return after 2 minutes*

Chill water

Pch Shakthiiii you will fall sick again... *absent mindedly scans the menu* ok I will have masal dosa. You?

Hmmm.. wait..*the expressive eyes show extreme concentration as she scans through the menu *

ya… I didn't have anything to do at home…it is ok, leave it…  how’s mom? When is your train..

Useless fellow…  ya mom’s fine now, she was really happy to see us… I will start in an hour from here, train is at 11:30.

Ok be careful, packed?

Ya

Good

Ok you two enjoy your meal, I will call before I board.

What is R-a-i-t-a?

Raita is Pachchidi…

Oh

You want?

No..

What are you having? fast... Waiter uncle will scold you if you make him wait any longer..

I will have p-u-r-i  puri…

Ok..

Hey sorry!!  was feeding your daughter…  ya, call me from the station, take a cab or an auto to station… we should be home by then... hope this girl sleeps on time

Sure, ok, someone here will drop me, not a problem. what did she have for dinner?

Puri..

Ok

You ?

Masal dosa

Ayyo

Hehe… u ate?

*The waiter enquires if the two need anything else; juices? ice creams?*

Appa strawberry ice cream

WHAT? No? are you mad? who was struggling to breathe two days back? was it me?  *wonders why he didn't pre-empt this by asking for the bill before the waiter could say something*

Now I’m alright..

NO…

Appa please…

NO *takes in the last morsel on the plate, indicates to the waiter to pour some water*

Yes just finished with that… home food after a long time

Good.. btw, Ur daughter is bargaining with me for a strawberry ice cream

NO, she was sick just two days back….

I know…

You can take her to the doctor if she falls sick again…

Hmm.. I didn't say yes…

whatever…

ok ok… seri text you later, have to settle the bill… call me once you reach the station…

ok

Appa please pa…

No, amma just texted me, she says no..

laaaast time…

You are not going to have an ice cream ever again?

Yes... promise!!

Really?

Yes…

*squints at her for a second and starts laughing, she joins, the waiter smiles*

Pleeeeeeese pa

amma will kill me.

I will not tell her… secret… ok? Pleeeeeeeese

Ok get her one scoop, and get me the bill too….

i

You always loved music. You found great joy. You believed there was only one who made music. You thought there was only one worthy of acting in a movie. You felt some faces were just put on screen for cosmetic reasons. You thought certain movies did not ring true, you believed certain songs were not done justice to. You made fun of certain accents. You believed the music you liked required a presentation; a 5.1 and with great fidelity. You thought the videos were inconsistent, inconsequential. You wondered why the movie had so many songs… why?? Really … why?? Why can’t we make movies tighter, more meaningful? You felt helpless, suffered great agony. Why have two songs for the pair? Why the hero introduction song? you were angry  at times. You wondered who watched certain movies that were made. You had great many prejudices. You were so judgmental. You were so naïve…

You still like music. You still revel in its beauty. You listen to almost anything now. You don’t mind the fat guy on screen neither do you mind the thin guy. You are perfectly ok with the car’s 1.85 speakers that seem to play through only one and a half speaker at a time. You are ok with listening to even faint strains of a known song as long as it continues to play. You watch TV almost mechanically, for company. You have found new love for ‘trashy’ music channels. You are ok with the anchors too. You allow yourself to like one or two of them. A CRT screen seems more than enough and the songs don’t matter, really, as long as you are listening to something, something familiar, and something you can understand. You realize, it doesn’t matter who is singing the song as long as it is not ganaa bala, you are ok with that too, sometimes. You don’t care even if an alien voice emanates from a plastic looking face. And, sometimes, after all these years, you are still not able to forgive certain people for certain songs and the old anger sparks a fleeting smile of kinship with your old self. You listen, you nod your head, you watch, you miss the tongue, you miss the people, you miss your friends, you miss your home or what will always be your home regardless of where you go. You understand,  you stop judging...

You smile, slip on your watch, turn off your TV, take your keys and leave…