Weighty tale

Further to and with reference to my previous post, I must reiterate that I don't want to share 'stuff' in 'bublic' (thanks, Shyam) although I do express my gratitude to Sundar for encouraging me to, he he.


I did, on one occasion, not manage to avoid sharing this particular info (weighing scale figure) with someone. It was in 1991. My dream then was to become a pilot. We had just moved into a new house in a new neighbourhood and our next door 'mama' was a nosy one. We called him 'M-square(d)' -- i.e., Mottai Mama (Bald Uncle). Sometimes, when he stood on his terrace, we would call him M-to-the-power-of-4 (Mottai Mama on a Mottai Maadi).


Sadly, he knew my dad quite well apparently, and came over for a cuppa one morning. My Dad chose that morning to share with him that I had this aim of becoming a pilot. M-Squared was also pretty know-it-all (empty vessels and all that) and, say-it-all. I froze as I was passing that way, that minute, and looked back.

I should n't have. I was beckoned. I went, but not without reluctance. MM looked me up and down brazenly and said: "Pilot? I also used to fly". (YEAH, RIGHT) "Hmmm. How much do you weigh?". At that 'eng' age, it's difficult to avoid answering direct questions from wolder people. I thought wildly about coming out with a wisecrack or two instead, but decided against it. Like a bandaid, best done swiftly. I told him my weight. (Yeah, am not telling you now either!) To that, he exclaimed: "Oh, you really need to lose weight before they let you become a pilot!" How sweet, thank you, MM. Like I did n't know.


Thing was, he himself was pretty big. Hard to imagine him inside a Cessna 152 aircraft unless doubled over and halved.


However, the truth is, to learn flying, you only need a medical certificate that says you're 'OK' (not FIT, just OK) and more importantly, you need much guts. Which of course, was not a problem, big gut and all. So... problem solved.



Gosh do I have more such tales up my sleeve!

At the gym

I have many gym tales to share and have done so before. Here is one more very tame one.


Having a personal trainer at the gym is...very personal. Really. Among other things, he or she will get to know your vital statistics (and very vital they are!!), and he or she knows your innermost desires and needs and supposedly, chalks out the path to 'there' for you. Right. So you are overweight and not the kind of person who would go around sharing your weight (in kgs) with all and sundry the way some skinny folks do...or the ones who have no weight issues. You know the type: -

"Arre, I think I have lost two kilos ONLY yaa, and I have two more to go. "
Hrrumph.

"My target is 50 kgs! Now, I weigh 51."
Hee haw.

"My aim is to lose 3 kilos -- they are JUST not goinnnng."
Barf!

"I have been the same weight for twenty years -- I was 62 when I finished college and I am still 62. Maybe a kilo or two here and there, but I quickly pull it down with my regular walking and I don't take frieds...sweets..."
Stop talking, stop talking NOW.

"I was 60 kgs after my delivery and now, I am 54."
SWAT!


Buzz off little bees, this post is not for you.


So with the personal trainer, it's like you have just shared your deepest, darkest secret with him, and he is still conscious(!!!), he knows your fitness level and is generally quite encouraging if not downright pushy...and therefore, you don't TOTALLY freak out when he says after a few days of workout: "Now, let's check your weight again, shall we?". I did n't freak out but I balked. "I don't want to..." I whined. "If I don't see good news, I will become depressed." In his usual nonchalant personal-trainer way he said "Well, who is asking YOU to look? I want to see, don't worry, there WILL be a difference." OKKAY. Have hope, faith and charity.



So I trudged along with him to a room that had two guys (gym staff) hanging around. 'My guy' goes in and switches on the weighing machine. Stupid digital thing that counts up to the last grams in your body! I looked at the two guys (gym staff) who were standing there and they seemed pretty much rooted to the ground. Now, having had many many bad social experiences at gyms, I tensed, hoping...willing them away. What did they think? That I was Aishwarya Rai who had signed up for weight gain? Sheesh. Now, I never used to be the outspoken, snappy type either, for the idiotic desire to 'be nice'. But this time I was fed up. Exasperated. Even my trainer did n't get it. And this was a small room, mind you, the size of a 4 star hotel bathroom. Quite a crowd in there for the momentous moment! I finally asked those two hangers-around, "Do you REALLY think I want an audience right now?". Thankfully, they took THAT hint and murmured sorrys and dashed out. I got the act over with (not sharing anything more here, heh heh) and when I came out, the two guys apologised again but I was quite happy that they DID leave the room at the crucial moment, so I brushed it all off.


This was not rude on my part if you consider what some of those same gym's trainers have said to me in the past.



Honestly.

What's the meaning?

There is many a supposed-Tamil word / slang that is most amusing to hear and which I dare not use mostly because I don't really know their meanings.

The following swear words commonly used on Chennai roads especially by autorickshaw drivers, bus and automobile 'drivers' and cyclists: -
1. Bemani
2. Porampohkku
3. Saavukraki or Saavucracky
4. Somari
There are more on my list of Tamil words the meanings of which I don't know, but this list has been based on a gut feeling (!) that makes them seem safe to ask out in the open.

Going by the sounds only, my personal favourite is somari. Sounds so cute(!!) and crisp although yes, I do realise it is used to call someone a'bad name' like stupid or idiot. Porampohkku is also quite satisying when you swirl it around your mouth rolling the RRRs in true, dramatic Tamil style!Bemani sounds downright funny while Saavukraki I feel has something to do with a person who courts death ...or loves courting death.

!!!!

Love 'Pannu'!

We Tamils have embraced some English words and phrases with aplomb. Even folks who supposedly speak and understand ONLY Tamil, will be able to understand these. Most of the thanks would go to Kollywood, for making these phrases popular. Examples are..

"Youuuuuuuuuu....SHUT UP!"

"STOP IT!"

"Will you please GET OUT?"

"Bullshit" (pronounced 'Bullsheet')

"Damn It" (Okay, 'it' is almost always 'eet'.)

"Beautiful!"

...And so on. Not the least of these is the phrase "I love you". I think 99% of the films must feature at lease one dialogue which is 'I LOVE YOU'.

Ickily, a Bollywood film even shortened 'I Love You' to ILU.
UGH and BLEWACK!

We in Tamilnadu have translated the phrase "Do you love me?" to "Nee yenna love pannriya?". Now "Love pannriya" actually translates into English as 'Make' or 'Do' love! Curiously, we usually pretend-bashful folks should have been alert to this and scrambled to change it. But, no. "Love Pannu" (Make or do love) is now the accepted phrase associated with being in love, that's most prevalent in Kollywood. This adoption is so overboard and curious that there is even a song which has the reglar refrain that sings out "Love Pannu".

Do check it out at:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8PV_hS7WRE4&feature=related

So funny.

Cheers!

Chained to ...what???

Dealing with forwards is not for everyone. I used to detest forwards, thinking that they were very impersonal until I started enjoying some of the funny, clever ones. Very useful stress busters they can be at times.

Forwards or forwarded emails are either sincerely despised by the recepient (cos they feel they deserve better -- like a hello, how are you, I miss you, take care!- sort of mail), or rank low on the recepient's priority(IFF I have free time, I will read them, else, will delete them to clear my inbox), or, of course, rank very very high (Yayyyy!Yay boy yay! Some fun in in my inbox). For the third section of recepients, it's like your postman delivering you mail -- remember those good old days? Was n't it so very exciting to receive letters? It used to be the highlight of my day to receive hand written letters.

Sigh. *Moment of nostalgia*

Okay -- done. (Nothing lasts very long these days, huh?)

Forwards. I have friends who have flatly told me not to send them any. Still others who say nothing at all about them and of course some who actually want to discuss a particularly funny or thought-provoking forward or two.

I also have my moments with forwards. Most times, I am enthusiastic but sometimes, I can ignore them. No way am I averse to them because they can be quite entertaining and somewhat equal to being in touch -- it shows you at least 'flashed' through the sender's mind for a moment indicating they thought of you that day! Many friends send me forwards which I kindly pass on to who I think are delighted readers.(!!)

However...

There are the chain mails. They threaten you with serious consequences if you don't pass them on to others. Even though I know they are stupid and meaningless, they irk. Why try to bother someone that way? Very silly indeed. So, I refuse to entertain them.

Exaggerated examples are:-
If you don't send this to 5 people in the next fifteen minutes, your nose will grow longer...
Me: Great, saves me the trouble of finding a plastic surgeon.

If you don't send this to 6 women in the next 6 minutes, you will grow six horns...
Me: Hmmm. Maybe the six horns will distract others from my many bad-hair days?

If you delete this email, YOU will be deleted from ...LIFE...
Me: Same to you. Good bye.

If you don't send this email to 20 people in the next 10 minutes something BAD will happen to you...
Me: I feel like doing something BAD to you right now!

The thing is, the folks who send me these chain mails are generally pretty sensible ...or so I would have thought until I receive the said forward! Actually, this fact makes me think I am far more sensible than them, heh heh. And to think I thought I was a silly billy!

Cheers!
P.S. Oh and I am also not a fan of those holier-than-thou, goodie goodie email forwards that have flowers and cute animals crawling all over them, advising you on life (no less!AHEM). However, in an indulgent mood, I can pass them along...although I do always select my recepients with care.

No worries!

What does 'no worries' mean exactly?


Because, I suspect that it meant one thing (apart from one actually having no worries, i.e.!) and then, is used generally and freely these days.


Me: I don't have a pen.
The other: No worries.
(I get it)


Me: Thanks a lot.
The other: No worries.
(I don't get it)


Me: Sorry about that.
The other: No worries.
(I get it)


Me: That was so nice of you!
The other: No worries.
(Eh?)

Virtually there

People seem to be living much of their lives virtually these days. Chatting with friends, browsing,'facebooking', orkuting, blog hopping, commenting with passion and even arguing their 'some-parts' off on subjects they feel strongly about, never mind the audience...and so on.

This is the world the world seems to be turning...virtually!

And then, there are the games on your comp that can keep you busy for hours, even days, if you did not have to eat, work and sleep.

I would love to play some of those games myself. But I won't. As it is, I feel I am quite addicted to my comp. Throw in these games and I will be hooked for too many more hours. Game or no game, interesting or not, enjoyable passtime or no, imagine wasting away in front of a machine! No, you don't have to imagine. Just look around or peek into that mirror again! I did and it is a scary thought.

I really worry that this trend is more unhealthy than we give it debit for (!!my poorly earned BCOM degree comes to mind) and is not going to take us to any 'good place'. Soon, people will just be happy to see their virtual pals online for the chat of the day, express themselves through words or smileys or whatever else online and completely miss out on the real folks and things they have access to.

Either that, or people have too much free time when they ought to be ...WORKING???!

I do love the Internet and its possibilities. I can keep in touch on a daily or hourly or even minute-ly basis with people most geographically distanced from me and the cost is like peanuts! It's wonderful. But this good thing can easily become too much of one!

Me, I don't ever want to become a nerd. I am quite the social animal -- you know, that's the animal that is getting closer to extinction all the time. The same animal that does extensive research on other animals facing extinction! Soon, man will be just an animal.

I exaggerate?

This post ends here, so that I can quickly return to my REAL world.;)

Ow, ow, owwww!

Like Hobbes pouncing on Calvin with one flying leap from the top of the stairs.(Arrrrrrrrrgggggggggh!)

Like Jerry chomping on Tom's tail. (Yowwwwwwwwwww!)

Like hitting your elbow on a hard, sharp edge when you least expect to. (ohhhhhhhhhhhhhoh)

That's how it was getting my eyebrows shaped. I was in a constant state of 'OWW'. Not a delicate Ouch, but a real 'OWWWWW'. Sure, many many many a woman gets it done without batting an eyelid. But either such a woman has really thick skin, or she just likes pain!!

Thread, thread, thread, pull, pull, pull, pluck, pluck, pluck.
Pluck is what you need, I tell you, to get your eyebrows done.

Why then?
Social pressures. Oh what a fickle world this is!

I determinedly avoided getting them done for the longest time and even for the 'specialest' of special occasions, but then finally caved in. The face clears up and looks a tad better, you know!

I also started grinning in between all the OWs -- and this is the thought that got me through -- in the sitcom Friends, Joey for some reason had ended up in a beautician's chair to get his eyebrows shaped. The moment she begins, his reaction is one of complete shock at the pain. Finally, he runs away from her with one eyebrow shaped and one eyebrow 'as is'. SO true.

Why oh why does everything that makes you 'better' have to be so difficult? Eyebrow plucking, waxing, exercising (there are days your body just won't move even, leave alone move quickly), staying away from frieds and sweets, waking up early to get that damn worm(!), cutting short a nice juicy chat on the phone to hit the bed early....the list is endless.

Does it all really 'build character' as Calvin's Dad says?

Why not just be a hairy, flabby, lethargic slob? Huh?

Oh wait, I know the answer.

It's ...............................................BECAUSE!

Say cheese!

Posing for photos is quite an art. I know many people who when called to strike a pose, would do just that. Smile cheerily and toothily and respond to 'say cheese' with...just that. "CHEEEESE", they would say. Click. Photo taken and no qualms. All's well that ends well.

Then there are those like me. When confronted with a camera wielding human, I freeze instead of saying cheese. Then I think furiously about whether I look presentable enough to be featured in a snap. And then, I think about whether I want to be looking serious or all smiley. By the time I finish with my thought processes, the 'click' would have happened and I will be left glaring helplessly after the photographer.

At a recent family celebration, there was a professional photographer on the prowl. I forgot about his omnipresence (!) as I went about 'mosskufying' (gorging) on some yummy starters like Cauliflower Manchurian and Baby Corn pepper salt, then had a quick drink and settled into a chair somewhat sated(!). As is natural, a burp then followed. Alas! the burp coincided with the much dreaded 'click' sound. I looked up in dismay only to see the photographer actually looking disapprovingly at me. Like it was my fault he clicked my burp. Yes, apparently, he had captured my just-burped expression. Hmph. Not a pretty picture, I am sure.

Now, I don't burp that much, in fact, I hardly burp. I don't like the sound or the taste of a burp. And now ...this. I told him in no uncertain terms that I would pose for him again but that he would have to delete that unfortunate picture. He looked back at the burpy picture and agreed with me! Ugh. A part of me wanted to see it but I thought I did not want to put a serious dent in my self esteem and so thought the better of it. I posed again and I suppose it came out quite well. (Hiiiya)

I just hope he deleted the burped up snap.

I have always been wary of these 'photographers on the prowl'. Now I know why.

Happy with a shrug

Slumdog Millionaire bagged 8 awards. ARRahman as music director won two. Super!

But was it ARR's best work?

No, I think.

Let's face it, slumdog millionaire was a good platform (British director) to give the world a glimpse of Indian talent, that's all. Of course, ARR has given us much fab music. And great that he got away with two big ones at the Oscars and created history. Good for him too. Sure, we are proud and thrilled for him. It's like winning a major competition.

But why are Oscars so important to us?

Filmy talk -- 'Naan Kadavul'

"Aham Brahmasmi" is the protagonist's refrain in the film 'Naan Kadavul'. Don't ask me what that means exactly, but I think it means 'I am God' because that's what Naan Kadavul means!

I am sure I cannot elucidate as I should about this film because I am not very knowledgeable on the subject involved. But since this is my blog, I am going to say it like it feels to me.;)

The film is not particularly enjoyable because it revolves around beggars and a sect of sanyasis or sadhus (is there a difference?) called agoris, who are apparently equipped with superior knowledge and insight, as they seem to know how to differentiate the evil from the good with the naked eye. i.e. just by looking at the person. They also believe they have the power to eliminate the evil person. They also believe that they can help a much-suffered soul to attain moksha -- and free him from this life and all future births if they deem fit.

The part of the film that focusses on the agoris is most interesting. The part of the film that focusses on beggar rings, the heartless monsters who run them and the beggars themselves, takes you from depression to anxiety to fear to hatred to repulsion and then to feeling very very sorry for the pathetic victims -- the beggars, that is. The humour that the director (Bala) brings out from the general characters of the film as opposed to usual, 'designated comedians' is commendable and somewhat incongruous (because the beggars seem to enjoy a wonderful sense of humour), but utterly believable.

Then comes a revelation -- the actress Pooja. Honestly, I thought she was only fit to run around trees like a mindless glam girl. But in this film where she plays a blind and most pathetic beggar, she has done very very well. Damn near steals the show. I just hope she dubbed for herself. This is something that always bugs me about many of the Tamil heroines. Anyway, she is no 'heroine' in this film. Just a blind girl to whom a viewer's heart can not only go out to, but in the process, get as battered and broken as the character does! Sigh.

It also had many scenes that say 'accept the disabled into your picture'...as we should. As we had better, rather!

Then comes my favourite -- Arya. This guy is 'wow'. He has always been a good actor(in the few films he has acted in), but in this film, he really gets into the groove and plays his role to the hilt. He has readied his physical appearance for the role and manages many scenes with aplomb in spite of wearing the barest minimum clothing. This takes him nowhere near a pin up boy or anything (!!) because this is simply not that type of film and I am sure there are hardly any other actors who would dare to bare as he does. Male or female, we are not in the garden of Eden & so, this attempt to shed clothes and extra weight, grow hair and maintain it as unkempt, etc. etc. is commendable as it lends a great deal of crediblity to the role. And the scenes where he stands on his head are simply mindblowing. Serious admiration in progress...

This is not a film for those who love sweeping 'unpleasantries' under the carpet or for those who prefer to stay away from films that contain no romance or flowery scenes, show of riches and unnecessary fights. It is also not for people who cannot stand violence or bloodshed.

This is a film for those who appreciate Bala with all his obsession for depression and gloom (!) because he is a director who I think has substance, etches superb characters however sad or pathetic, and executes a neat film with apt music. Ilayarajai scores as usual. Maestro na maestro dhaan.

That said, there were (I am sure) many scenes missing from this film. Seems to have been cut like nobody's business. I believe it was said to have some 'cannabalism' involved as well. Ugh. But did n't get to see it. It was gory enough anyway!

Still, it would have been more interesting to see the full version and find out all that Bala had to say. (Yikes)

Oh and the comedy scenes involving Shivaji-MGR immitating side-actors was really one of the few 'enjoyable' portions of the film.

I don't however think I would want to see it again and again. The pathetic scenes remain fresh in the mind, you see...

Hello, please, thank you and good bye

Why did my parents bother teaching me manners? From good morning, good afternoon, good evening and good night to sorry, please, thank you, I had it up to my ears whilst growing up. Watch how you speak to people. Wish them. Be polite. The same story in school. Good manners apparently, were drilled into our small brains.

When it comes to present day usage of good manners, I have found that politeness comes at a price. When most courteous and pleasant, often, you are considered an ilichavai (grinning mouth -- a push over?). If you are polite, it does not necessarily mean you will get politeness back. In fact, people may even snap or be curt or take you for a ride.

So I have learned to test the waters. I will be polite at first as I have been taught to be and then when I see the waters are rippled or choppy, I do some choppy talk of my own. Speaking then becomes barking with an odd snap here and there. Very dog like behaviour. Can't say it helps matters as such. But it sure does get people's attention and they know that they need to watch their mouths with me.

However, downright losing of temper never never helps. That never accomplishes anything. But if people know that you are on the verge of losing it or are terribly capable of losing it, you can get things done.

Sad but true. Being grouchy helps in many areas. But I am an optimist. I will stay pleasant until pushed. It is after all so easy to be snappy and more tough to be sweet.

Oh, and sarcasm helps. A relief for yourself while the mannerless one is stumped ...at least temporarily!

Thanking you,

Yours truly.

Just a memory

I was around 6 or seven years old (wild guess) then, and was just getting into a car with my mother on ...some road (Har, har, some memory mine is, eh?). There was this beggar woman who was obviously standing on the platform for money. But she was a beggar woman with a small difference -- she seemed quite upbeat. Even as my mother hurriedly pulled some change out of her handbag to give her, the woman looked at me. To me then, she looked to be around 50 or so -- give or take how many ever years (!).

As a child you are naturally curious, inquisitive and don't hesitate to stare even when you know people are watching you stare. So I stared at her first and then at what was in her hand. It was a stainless steel plate and it had some amazingly comforting, home made-looking food on it. It was obvious that that day was the lady's lucky day. The food comprised paruppu saadham and sambar (rice and gravy). I stared at the food and then at her. She smiled at me, happy. She was probably seconds away from beginning her tasty-looking meal. I smiled widely back, happy too.

I don't know how that food got onto her plate, but I was happy for her. Innocently happy, because I was a just a child then, who did not know more, or better.

I am not sure why this memory stuck in my brain (am sure my being a foodie is irrelevant here for once!), but I recall this exchange of smiles clearly and even remember she was wearing a sari with a shawl like thing draped over it, perhaps because of tears here and there?:(

I guess it was a comfort that she got comfort food on her plate at least that day.

Every (slum)dog has its day.

Kuppamnaai Latshaadhipathi

'Slumdog Millionaire' -- that's what I said above in Tamil. Worth a post so here I am.

WARNING! LONG POST AHEAD!

Went for a night show with my usual 'kick' of anticipation, being a movie buff and all that. Did n't even want my usual popcorn right in the beginning. The experience began with angry tears -- mine. It's just that I stood in line to get a bottle of water and when my turn came, the twit behind the counter coolly attended another oaf instead of me, who extended his hand with cash (same as I did)...and the twit did the same with the NEXT guy too. I was outraged and asked the twit whether he knew what a queue was...and should he as the guy behind the counter not be the one to acknowledge a queue...??No answer is what I got. 'GRR' was followed by angry tears which I did NOT shed. Blinked them away.

Enough already with the rant, get on with the movie experience, Teesu. Got it.

The movie is about a boy from the slums of Mumbai -- rather, it is about 2 little boys and a little girl from the slums. The boys are brothers and the older one's name is Salim while the younger one is Jamal and the girl is Lathika (in the film). By a twist of fate (Mumbai riots), the three kids are orphaned and end up together because Jamal takes 'specially' to Lathika. They are conned into ending up in a sort of begging ring by a rogue, and face a dubious future there with a strong likelihood of some terrible atrocities and eventually flee from there just in the nick of time. However, Lathika does not make it with the boys and while Jamal is broken hearted about it, Salim's main interest is always shown as his little bro and not Lathika. Well, the rest of the story is about how Jamal can never forget or give up on Lathika and I suppose she loved him too although in a defeatist kind of way! Jamal gets himself onto a Q&A game show based on the popular 'Who wants to be a millionaire / Kaun banega Crorepati' show, again, all for love. (I used to watch the show here years before, just to soak in Amitabh Bachchan's charm:).

In this film, the show's smug, taunting host is Anil Kapoor while Irfan Khan plays the inspector who questions Jamal on his astonishing knowledge that made him answer all the questions, putting him in a position to become a millionaire overnight.

The film is good, no doubt. The characters seem pretty real as do the situations they find themselves in. I suppose British directors have got a penchant for starkness. Still, this film is not overly stark. The actors are brilliant right from the little children to the young men and women they become. And by actors, I mean to include Anil Kapoor (MAN, that guy is trim and does not seem to know the meaning of the verb 'age'!), Irfan Khan (plays an Indian cop to the hilt), the 3 protagonists, etc. But the thing is, we Indians have seen so much more from Anil Kapoor that this role is like 'jujubee' (trivial) for him/us. Naturally, he played the part well. Irfan Khan on the other hand is damn good usually, and in this, he seems to have underplayed it a bit which is brilliant I suppose, considering that the Indian cop generally speaking, is used to seeing the worst of life, and then some! Therefore, he goes from agitated to angry, to rude, to calm, to shrewd and observing, to being understanding, borders on compassionate and finally, to believing. Very nicely done.

AR Rahman. I may get booed for saying this, but we Indians already knew he is a fabulous composer / music director. The rest of the world is just catching on. To me, that's what this noise about Golden Globes and Oscars means. C'mon... how many marvellous creations of ARR's have we enjoyed? In this film sure, the songs are good, but nothing that steps out to be outstanding in the LONG list of great songs he has composed. Still, if it is the first for an Indian at the Oscars / Golden Globes, it IS great, but it is also true that India has not been appreciated enough for all that she has. Now's her time, eh? I would say that India has merely got a platform at the 'elite-global' level with Slumdog Millionaire, to show off the 'tip of the iceberg'. This of course, I mean in a positive way.

Some have criticised the film for portraying India 'slummily'. I beg to differ. Easy for us commonfolk leading cushy lives to be miffed that the poor side of our country has been 'shown up' on an international scale. But, the film shows how even people from the slums have a code they live life by, which I believe is sometimes far superior to us with the well cushioned butts -- literally and figuratively!;) ... Salim's love for his younger brother, Jamal's love for Lathika, the TV host's contempt and condescending tone (slightly overdone I thought), the police inspector lending Jamal a fairly fair ear, the really good acting by the villains, all these deserve a mention.

I like dogs but not slums, for obvious reasons. I strongly object to demeaning a person by calling him a slumdog. But I suppose, it can happen. The chilling scene where the beggar ring rogues prepare to blind a little boy and proceed with the ghastly act left me feeling deeply disturbed, horrified and terribly depressed, even if it is just a movie. I suppose we all know this happens in real life but we are so far removed from it that we are lulled into a happy and comfortable zone.

This film pokes you in the ribs and makes you feel the pain of a 'slum dog'. And then, it also tends towards fairly happy endings. So, watch it. We are going to win some never-before awards, so you have to watch it!

Cheers! Jai Ho and Jai Hind;).

Late action, late reaction...to Vaaranam Aayiram

I wanted to watch this film from MUCH before it was released over two months ago. Anyway, I saw it yesterday. I am still unclear about what Vaaranam Aayiram means (strength of a 1000 elephants?) or its real relevance to the film and its characters. I only know that an extremely corny dialogue right at the end by Simran (plays an older heroine/woman's role) had some silly reference to this phrase 'Vaaranam Aayiram'.

Suriya the actor, is one reason I wanted to watch this film. The director Gautham Menon is another. The latter has made some very good films although they did have disturbing scenes / concepts in them. Still, he can really make an actor look good and believable -- even better than good, really utilise him or her!

So, the film begins with a sickly, older Suriya. Now, his make up was much much better than Kamal's in Dasavathaaram in any of the avathaarams. (Feel bad saying ths considering I am quite a Kamal fan). Well, anyway, a fact is a fact. Simran in an older role was good until the last few scenes. Konjam sad her acting and dialogue delivery then. Why has she STILL not learned to move her lips the Thamizh way?!!

Then it moves to romance -- Gautham Menon always excels in portraying these 'moments'. Same in this film too.

The main theme however, is about father and son with emphasis on the way the son (also Suriya) looks up to the father. While this is a very nice and unique theme in Tamil cinema, the number of "Daddy-Daddy"s in the film ought to have been reduced by half at the very least. I mean, I am all for the Daddy syndrome but even I found this irritating -- then imagine other less-Daddy-obsessed folks!!

Apparently, this film has been inspired by the director and his father (now late). Hmmmm. Not sure how meaningful that is in Kollywood.

Some scenes were ridiculously long...

Suriya has given a mind blowing performance and is terribly endearing and convincing as a school boy, as a man in love and as an army officer (dashing is the only way to describe him). The father Suriya is fine but nowhere close to the son Suriya.

Sameera Reddy the second (young) heroine is not bad in the acting department for her first film. Acts Ok enough, but I feel there is something wrong with her fitting into a South Indian heroine-image. Maybe her jawline?! She is a girl whom, if you knew in person you would say "woo-hoo, HOT" but on screen...something's not right.

The second heroine Divya Spandana or something, is just about OK and sometimes irrittating although her acting was not very bad. (Am sure it is because people cannot act badly in gautham Menon's films!!) Second best. Frankly, nobody seemed to be able to match up to Suriya in this movie! Not even his older version.

Some call it soppy, others say it's like a documentary. Me, I think if you like Suriya, you are going to have to watch this and enjoy it!

Oh and the music by Harris Jeyraj is wonderful.

As a child...

As a child, I have...
1. eaten paper, so I still recognise the taste. I was just polishing off a toffee a few minutes ago when I encountered that bit of non-food stuck in one of my teeth. It was paper. Due to a burst of nostalgia, I did not spit it out.
2. eaten rubber. In fact, in UKG, my 3-4 friends and I had a competition. We tore up our erasers / rubbers into bits -- at times we had to cut them by biting them, and then we placed all bits and pieces of everybody's rubbers on the table and said 1, 2, THREE, and then grabbed as many pieces of rubber as possible and the prize for the one to have grabbed the most was...to get to eat them all by herself!
3. eaten sand. I remember on one particular day the sand eating went so overboard that my mother heard about it and banned it forever...or at least till date. Now, however, my appetite for sand is NIL;)
4. eaten gooseberries with the natural dirt on them. :) That memory calls for another post though.
5. BRACE yourself...eaten 'nose-matters'. Absolutely yuck I KNOW but c'mon WHO has not tasted some nose matter in his or her childhood? The taste is unfortunately remembered as tangy at best and ...eeegads, even I can't do this...
6. chewed on cloth. Any cloth, mostly cotton. The taste of it is rather...tasteless!!

Childhood was so eventful, was n't it?
Sigghhh.

Toilet Cleaning

I have discovered that I like to clean my toilet. Not by hand (yuck, no) of course, but with a nice long brush, some pleasant smelling liquid cleaner and water. Well, how else does one wash a loo?!

To me this is new since I have never washed a loo before. The feeling of satisfaction is great and it beats dealing with too many people any day! Just me and my loo. A one-to-one experience!

The steps I take for this...
1. I spray the liquid cleaner over all surfaces of the WC and then spray with a vengeance on certain...'areas' which look...ugly-bugly-boo. Or should I say poo?
2. I let it soak for say 5-10 minutes.
3. I take the long handled toilet brush and clean with gusto.
4. I spray water here and there for extra lubrication.
5. I flush the loo.
6. I make sure the surfaces are clean, spotless and dry.

The timing for washing a loo must be perfect. It must be done just after it has been used and well before it will be used again, in order to prolong the 'cleanness time'.

Hmmm...So this post is perhaps the most vetti of all.

Anger Management

Courses need to be offered and I need to sign up!

Hmmmm

People are crazy and times are strange,
I'm locked in tight, I'm outta range,
I used to care, but things have changed.

Yup, Bob Dylan says it all for me today, with these words.

Alarm!

I just received a forward on alarm clocks from a friend S.
Alarm clocks and I go back a long way. Since when I can remember, I have never been early to bed and early to rise. Maybe it's just because I don't want to catch that worm or what, I don't know! Still, I do love sleeping and can go on and on about how I need my eight + hours of ugly sleep...
Anyway!
So obviously, I have always needed alarm clocks to wake me up. Sometimes they have the desired effect on me and sometimes not. But I tell you, one of the best things to have happened in the alarm world is the snooze button. I simply love the option to snooze (I feel all snoozy and ooozy and woozy just thinking of this great option). I can hit that snooze button with aplomb. There's a certain thrill in supressing the alarm for just a few more minutes and getting that many more (few) minutes of shut eye -- a thrill unparalleled that early in the morning. Ok, maybe not early. After all, what's sauce for the goose may NOT be sauce for the gander. (Is this saying correct?).

Ring-ring-ring-ring-ring-ring-ring-ring-TAP!-snoooooooooooooooooooooze.

I must now yak about a few of my favourite alarm clocks...this was much before the snooze button's arrival on the sleepyheads' planet: -

1. My father got quite desperate by the time I reached the ninth standard and bought me one hip looking triangular, black and white alarm clock which made the sound of a cock crowing. Apparently, he thought a farm-like environment was required to make me wake up with the sun. Unfortunately, it was rather too easy to lightly smack the top of this smooth-headed clock and go right back to sleep. The crowing did help the first few times though.

2. The next was a military / army green coloured alarm clock in the guise of a major-general-like doll. This fellow would start up a band and a drill routine to wake me up. There was even an alarmingly realistic trumpet sound in between to kick up more of a fuss. The only way to stop the alarm was to hit the top of the gun the fellow had pointed upwards. This worked slightly longer than the crowing alarm clock. Nevertheless, the novelty soon wore off.

After 1 and 2 above, my father had become increasingly resigned to having to wake me up himself, following any alarm clock's failed attempt. Only, he would put me on a guilt trip: "See, Appa (Daddy) has so much work to do during the day and am interrupting my sleep to wake you up. The least you can do is to wake up(and study)." Indeed. This was really the only ploy that worked on me and probably the only kind of guilt trip ever laid on me by my pretty-cool parents!


Reading various Enid Blyton books (red/green story books and so on) which had some mild morals-of-the-stories for sleepyheads, like a walking and talking bed that took the little girl away to some strange land for not waking up when told to ...and so on, did not really help in the long run.

Oh and then there was one alarm clock that I must talk about. It was my sister's. Again bought lovingly for her by my 'ever-positive-about-his-daughters' late father. This clock is rectangular and unapologetically yellow. Or is it orange? (So yellow, that it's hard to tell!) Anyway, this clock was a simpleton compared to the other two mentioned above. Clearly, my dad did not consider my sis a lost cause like me! Its alarm had a wonderful tune. Why I enjoyed this clock so much is because, I was then going to afternoon college whereas my sis had a full time job before which, she would try and wake up early in the morning to go for a bicycle ride. I had my own room but like all pesky younger sisters, I would pile on to her room from time to time on a lusciously padded mattress on the floor. Then when this alarm began its tune, it was sooo melodious (cos i was not the one to have to wake up) and soothing and...somehow satisfying that I snoozed after that with pleasure. Aaaah. What memories!:)

Now, I use my mobile phone alarm. So bland but delightfully fitted with the snooze option that lasts ten minutes. Ten cozy, glorious minutes.

As they say in German ...Bis Morgen! (Till the morning)
Cheers!
Note: Only the No. 3 alarm clock pic is the real thing since I still have it safe:) The No. 2 is close to what mine was. The pic for my No. 1 alarm clock is more for effect!