Ms. Jekyll and Mrs. Hyde

2011-05-10T23:18:00.000-07:00

Venice and Florence

We awoke early the next day, showered , had breakfast and headed out to St. Marks’s square in Venice. With the tall church with intricate church art in front of a large square courtyard, St. Marks’s square is so magical that you can spend hours doing nothing but observe its beauty. We did precisely that, but for about 45 minutes. St. Marks’s square is also famous for its pigeons that live there. I watched a little girl with blond curls chase after the pigeons and felt deeply relaxed.

We had the option of going for a gondola ride, but we chose to sit and take in the beauty of the square. This square has been featured in Hindi movies such as ‘The Great Gambler’ when Zeenat Aman and Amitabh Bachchan take a ride in the gondola; ‘Bachna Ae Haseeno’ during the ‘Khuda Jaane’ song in where Deepika Padukone and Ranbir Kapoor wander in and out of the square; English movies such as ‘Just Married’ when Brittany Murphy and Ashton Kutcher visit Italy during their honeymoon, and more recently in ‘The Tourist’ starring Angelina Jolie and Johnny Depp. ‘The Tourist’ is one movie that captures the beauty of Venice almost in its entirety.

Some of the other passengers went on the gondola ride. Mr. Z, our tour manager then took us to the glass factory where we saw how the craftsmen deftly fashioned beautiful glass figurines from molten glass. They made it look so easy! We then headed to the liner that would take us on a cruise on the Adriatic Sea. This was almost a life-altering experience, coz I’d never felt that good to be out on the sea as I did then. Mr. Z told us a few facts about the places that we saw and after lunch, we headed for Florence.

Florence is one of the most artistically alive places in Europe. Every street corner has a caricaturist, guitar player or some other artiste exhibiting his or her talent. We went to another square in Florence and spent some time admiring the statues and soaking up the culture. We also walked by the Arno river and watched the sunset. This more than made up for our rather unsteady start the previous day and Mr. Z was clearly making a huge effort to ensure that our holiday was back on track and we had no complaints whatsoever.

2011-05-10T22:35:00.000-07:00

Destination Venice

As I handed over my project at work to another writer on Thursday, September 11, and tied up other loose ends, I felt an overwhelming sense of exhaustion. I couldn’t believe that in a few hours from then (at the stroke of midnight, actually), I would be at the airport with my mom waiting to head off on a whirlwind tour of Europe for 11 days.

I battled sleep at the Chennai airport watching the other travellers and killing time. Our flight was scheduled for departure at the ungodly hour of 4.15 am. Numerous caffeine fixes later, I heard the announcement, “All passengers boarding flight ___ for Dubai, your flight has been delayed”. Damn. Double Damn. This didn’t seem like a very good start.

I kept wandering around. My mom chose to remain seated and observe the people around, trying to locate other passengers who might be travelling with us on the package tour. We had been informed by our travel agent that there were 4 other passengers from Chennai and that we might be able to identify them by the bags they carried: The complimentary hand baggage provided by the tour operators. Of the four, one was a mother-daughter duo and the other was a lady and a young man, we were told.

Our flight was to stop over at Dubai and then proceed to Milan. I did notice a short lady with frizzy hair and a harried expression who had the aforementioned bag, but she was heading for Kenya. Not Milan.

After a LOT of time later, we found that our flight was only delayed by half hour. I felt waves of relief wash over me. I’d been seriously worried since we had a connecting flight from Dubai to Milan to board and if our first flight were to be too delayed, we might end up missing the connecting flight and that would throw our plans out of gear.

Once we boarded the flight, I used the warm wet towel that the air hostess handed us and tried to wipe the fatigue off my face. I dozed fitfully. Once we landed in Dubai, we literally ran through the airport so as not to miss our connecting flight. Luckily, for us, we didn’t.

A 6.5-hour flight later, we landed in Milan. While I had found the Dubai airport sterile, cold, and almost clinical, the airport at Milano seemed warm and welcoming. After all the formalities were over, we made our way to Exit 7. A board saying “Uscita” marked the exit. My mom and I struggled with all our baggage and stood at the exit.

I was just about to call up the tour manager and give him a piece of my mind when a genial man with a big smile on his face approached us. Seeing that he was Indian, I jumped to the wrong conclusion that he was our tour manager. It turned out to be a co-passenger on our trip. He had been waiting at Milan for the past 4 hours. Alarmed that the rest of the trip was going to continue in the same vein with delays and halts everywhere, I shared my apprehension with aforesaid genial man, Ganesh.

It turned out that the driver of our tour bus was present at the airport and was blissfully seated inside the bus, happily unaware of all the stressed-out passengers searching for the bus. And since he couldn’t speak a word of English, communication was a moot point.

We called up the tour manager and found out the exact number of passengers who had to board the bus and consequently the number of people we had to wait for. After what seemed like an eternity, the rest of the passengers made their way to the bus and we started off.

However, our streak of bad luck was determined to follow us for a bit longer. The bus broke down not once but twice, until we changed buses and reached our hotel in Venice sometime at nightfall. We found that the tour manager had left our dinner in our rooms and gone to sleep! This irked one of our co-passengers Padu, who woke up the manager and blasted him. My mom and I were too tired to take part in this heated exchange and we went to our room only to collapse on the bed.

2010-02-21T23:02:00.000-08:00

The obsession to be heard: Social Media—Geek paradise?

Tarzan could only pound on his chest and make his characteristic howl. But modern men (and women) in the digital age have a variety of tools at their disposal to make themselves heard. And none of them involve standing on the rooftop or swinging from a tree and screaming for attention. Yes, we have evolved. We flaunt our wit (or lack thereof) to cut through digital garbage and make an impact. Most of us are addicted to social networking sites and use them for a variety of reasons—showcasing our accomplishments, taking IQ tests that proclaim us to be on par with Einstein, ranting and occasionally posting something totally random, which means absolutely nothing to anybody but ourselves.

Does your daily routine sound like this?
• Wake up.
• Brush teeth.
• Log in.
• Check Facebook account; post status message; interact with friends from all over the globe by commenting on their pictures; click the Like button on someone’s status update; etc. etc. log out.
• Sign into twitter, which in all likelihood has been configured to update the tweet on Facebook. And post away?
• Followed by regular daily activities

If yes, then you are an addict, indeed. Maybe you think you need to go to social media rehab! Maybe, you’ve even posted THAT as your status message and got feedback from fellow addicts. No doubt, they’ve all told you it’s totally normal and that they do it, too!

Did it make you feel better? I’ll bet it did. And there lies the key to social media addiction — the need for feedback, approbation, and interaction.

Maslow’s needs hierarchy states that every human being is motivated by needs. Once the “lower order” needs are satisfied, we strive for “higher order” needs.

The needs in order of importance according to his theory:

1. Biological and Physiological needs - air, food, drink, shelter, warmth, sleep, etc.
2. Safety needs - protection from elements, security, order, law, limits, stability, etc.
3. Belongingness and Love needs - work group, family, affection, relationships, etc.
4. Esteem needs - self-esteem, achievement, mastery, independence, status, dominance, prestige, managerial responsibility, etc.
5. Self-Actualization needs - realizing personal potential, self-fulfillment, seeking personal growth and peak experiences.

Engaging in social media would satisfy Need#3 in Maslow’s hierarchy.
Twitter and Facebook help us engage with people and interact with them. They help build bonds and make it easy for introverts who are not comfortable with face-to-face interactions to actually communicate their thoughts to an ever-growing audience. Social media is geek paradise! A wallflower in real life suddenly finds the spotlight on him/her and finds a way to enjoy this attention while still managing to remain behind a computer.I think this is what motivates people to update their status on Facebook.

I’m guilty of frequent Facebook updates. I certainly am not a geek, but I’m more comfortable with the written word than the spoken. So it works like a charm for me. Plus, my friends are scattered all over the globe and I get to know what’s happening in their lives just by logging into Facebook.

Do you update your status regularly? If yes, I would love to know what motivates you to do it. I welcome your feedback by way of comments to this post. To quote Kelsey Grammer (yes, he spells it that way, not Grammar) who plays the lead role in “Frasier” (the sitcom) — “I’m listening!”

2010-01-27T02:38:00.000-08:00

“Insects are just like you and me except some of them have wings”.

“Insects are just like you and me except some of them have wings”. With a title like that, one can expect the book to be quirky. And quirky it is. Also original, strange, funny, imaginative, and sometimes just bizarre!

But this book by Kuzhali Manickavel actually reminded me of the work of the very talented Woody Allen and Roald Dahl.

There are 35 short stories and by short, I mean that some of them are just a page long. There might not strictly be a beginning, middle, and end to every story. In fact, most of them do not conform to that structure. But what you will find is a convergence of poetry and prose.

Writer Miranda July has endorsed the book on a blurb saying “Not merely lyrical and strange, but also deadpan funny. I can’t shake the feeling that I know this woman, personally – like we hung out at a party or something. But I don’t, and we didn’t. She’s just that good.”

While I might not have hung out with the author, I have seen her around in college since we both went to the same college and were in the same batch, although different majors. In fact, the curiosity factor prompted me to read this book. And I’ve not been disappointed. At all!

In the opening paragraph of one of her short stories, “A Bottle of Wings and Other Things.”, a spider dies, “There was no extravagance in its death; just a gentle curl, a folding which no one had seen or heard.”

Kuzhali Manickavel is highly skilled at figurative language, so nothing just falls into the road. Instead “postcards fell from the window in soft jagged pieces, scattering onto the road like flowers on a dirty river.” And pieces of paper fly, “fluttering onto the hot, sticky tar like a flock of dying birds.” She doesn’t seem to be flaunting her unique way of describing things just because she can. They often serve to communicate emotional states effectively.

The numerous diagrams of insects that are featured in the book add another unique touch and tie the stories together with the insect theme.

Here’s one complete story from this volume available at: http://www.percontra.net/9manickavel.htm

Happy reading!

2009-11-18T01:18:00.000-08:00

3 Hindi films I liked
The last couple of years were a total washout for me in terms of the Hindi films I watched. I seemed to watch the worst films ever made like Heyy Baby, Welcome, etc.…shudder.

Recently, I watched “Wake up Sid” , “Bachna Ae Haseeno”, and “New York” that made me realize that a lot of good Hindi films are made that one shouldn’t miss out on. I enjoyed watching all three movies, which some of you might have watched ages back.

“Wake up Sid” got good reviews in every newspaper I saw. I watched it in Satyam cinemas, the multiplex theatre here in Chennai. The film had a fresh, young, breezy feel to it that I simply loved. Sid, played by Ranbir Kapoor, is a typical pampered boy who has a rich daddy to take care of his every need. When he flunks his college finals and is rude to his mom, his life sees a turning point. He walks out of his house and lives with Konkana Sen, an older friend who works with a magazine. His talents in photography get him a job with the same magazine and he pulls his life together with a little help from his friends. He also finds love although it is more appropriate to say love finds him. Sid being the clueless guy he is doesn’t understand he is in love until after the girl realizes it. Anyway, all’s well that ends well.

“Bachna Ae Haseeno” has Ranvir Kapoor playing a Casanova who breaks hearts and moves on. The first girl in his life, Minissha Lamba is disillusioned after she meets him and changes from being a romantic, dreamy girl to someone who routinely carries out her duties. Bipasha who lived in with Ranvir in the movie for a year and a half is left heartbroken when he thoughtlessly leaves for Australia, ditching her at the altar. She gets embittered and becomes a cynical, overbearing woman, albeit an extremely successful model that has it all. Only when he falls in love for the first time with Deepika Padukone ( in the film) and she rejects his proposal of marriage, does he realize that he, too, has hurt other people. He flies to India to redress his wrongs. The locations for the song “Khuda Jaane” are simply awesome. St. Marks Square in Venice, Greece, the island of Capri are all shown in their glorious splendour. Once he reaches out to his ex-girlfriends to apologize to them for hurting them, he feels he has become a better person and when he goes back to Australia he has a pleasant surprise in store for him.

“New York” is set against the backdrop of terrorism post 9/11. It concentrates on how the US government tortured innocent Indians just because they had Muslim names, ironically turning peace-loving happy individuals into terrorists. Katrina Kaif is convincing with her natural anglicized accented Hindi. Neil Nitin Mukesh comes across convincingly as an innocent chap who is asked by the FBI to carry out a secret mission, and John Abraham suits the role he plays as well.

2009-09-07T06:27:00.001-07:00

Natural Born Killers (Made in 1994)

When I asked Eric, who I borrowed this movie from how it was, his answer was, “I’ve never seen a film like it”.

And when I was done with the movie, I had to agree. The director’s (Oliver Stone) vision for this film is conveyed through disturbing visuals that tend to stick with you long after the film is over. You could interpret every shot or you could watch the whole movie and get the general gist, but either way, it’s not a film you are ever likely to forget.

The script was written by Quentin Tarantino, known for his movies that glorify violence and lust. These threads are woven into the entire tapestry of the film.

The closest I can get to comparisons is that this film is a cross between “Bonnie and Clyde” and “A Clockwork Orange”. The former is about a couple who goes on a robbing spree to meet a bloody end, while the latter is about a youth gang that enjoys violence and goes about robbing, raping, and otherwise gratifying their every impulse at the expense of innocents. In “A Clockwork Orange”, the anti-hero is caught and put in prison but allowed to make a choice to take part in a revolutionary new “treatment”, which if he participates in, will allow his release back in society. Without considering the consequences, he agrees, but finds that due to “conditioning”, his natural impulses like lust and greed are met with excruciating physical pain. When he does get back into society, his past actions catch up with him and he briefly pays for his sins. However, the political system and the media highlight his loss of “free will” and his treatment is reversed. In the end, he is back to being his original self.

“Natural Born Killers” is about a young girl, Mallory, abused by her father, leading a miserable life, who finds love in the hands of a delivery boy, Mickey. Together, they kill her parents and go on a murderous spree on Route 666(a not-so-subtle reference to the forces of evil), killing fifty-two people in three weeks. They are revered as youth icons by misguided youth who think they are “cool” since the couple indulges in violence for the fun of it—not for money or revenge. They both have demons in their past, which have led them to glorify violence. She often has disturbing dreams about her abuse, and he thinks about his miserable childhood, too.

They almost reach a turning point in their lives when they stop at an Indian’s house for a brief rest. The Indian tells them a tale about how his wife had rescued a snake, but the snake bit her anyway. She then asked the snake on her deathbed why it had been so ungrateful, to which the snake replied that it was just following its natural instinct. (Must add here, that the actual dialogue was a little less discreet and involved a couple of expletives that I do not want to mention here! :D)

The anti-hero wants to give up his life of murder and mayhem, but in his semi-awake drugged state shoots the Indian inadvertently. Here, we see the similarity between the snake and the couple: Both free of remorse; both killing by instinct.

Both Mickey and Mallory are then bitten by rattlesnakes and make their way to a drugstore, but are apprehended by cops. The cop who apprehends them is shown murdering a prostitute in the previous scene, revealing to us that no one is free of sin.

After a year in prison, where they are kept apart in two different cells, a famous TV journalist wants to interview Mickey for a show on killers. This interview takes place in the prison. During the interview, Mickey reveals that all human beings are sinners and no one deserves to live, and that murder gives him a sense of freedom that nothing else has given; he calls himself a “natural born killer” and ends up instigating the prisoners who are watching the live recording.

A riot breaks out in the prison and Mickey and Mallory escape holding the TV journalist hostage. The TV journalist has skeletons of his own in his closet. Apart from being completely self-obsessed with stardom, he is also having an extra-marital affair: Point driven home that no one is guilt-free or blameless.

Mickey and Mallory escape much to the warden’s chagrin and after getting the journalist to film their escape, they kill him and go on to lead their lives. Their dream of being reunited with each other and having a family is fulfilled. This is in stark contrast to “Bonnie and Clyde” where the couple pays for their sins with death. The concept of karma does not apply to “the natural born killers”. They kill because it’s what they believe they were born to do. It’s their natural instinct. Society be damned.

2009-09-03T00:25:00.000-07:00

The Devil’s Advocate

I first watched this movie when it released in the theatres sometime in ‘97. I watched it again recently and was struck by how powerful it is. Not to mention, creepy! Parts of it reminded me of “Rosemary’s baby”; a little bit of it reminded me of John Grisham’s “The Firm”.

The tagline says “The newest attorney at the world's most powerful law firm has never lost a case. But he's about to lose his soul.”

Keanu Reeves is the hotshot lawyer who has won 64 consecutive cases. This draws the attention of a powerful law firm in New York, which offers him a new job with an apartment to die for, and all the perks he could ever want. He moves into his new place with his wife (played by Charlize Theron).

But as the story progresses, Keanu realizes that he has taken on more than he can handle and slowly understands who he is dealing with. When his wife starts seeing ghastly visions and goes through some shocking experiences, he starts wondering if she is slowly becoming insane. These violent and disturbing images to show devilry afoot are enough to scare the faint of heart. Not surprising then that this movie comes with an adult rating.

Al Pacino who plays Keanu’s new boss is Satan himself, and his name in the movie is John Milton, an interesting choice of name as it is the same as that of the famous poet who wrote Paradise Lost, which deals with matters of the soul, God, and Lucifer.

The last few scenes with the blazing fire conform to the image we have of hell. These scenes convey all kinds of perversions of the flesh that one would automatically associate with the devil.

This movie would serve as a warning to all aspiring lawyers: Beware the perils of defending those you know are guilty. Each time you do it, you sell a little bit of your soul and sacrifice your integrity.

Al Pacino does a great job as usual and delivers a powerful performance in this modern Gothic fable.

2009-07-27T07:28:00.000-07:00

The language of the city during the monsoons

The city can be cold and impersonal, where every person is cruelly reduced to a statistic—just one among the teeming population of settlers. It’s not often we get to enjoy the pleasures of simpler times. But one season that helps you appreciate life in its infinite glory is the monsoons.

You wake up to greet a beautiful morning. There is a slight nip in the air and the rain washes the earth until everything is fresh and new. Lush and green. Unspoiled. It’s as if the city reveals to us a hidden facet that we didn’t know she had. Like a shy bride on her wedding night, she gives us an indication of things to come. The gentle downpour cools the temperature around by perceptible degrees and washes the land—the buildings, houses, trees, yards, roads, and playgrounds, until they exude an almost country air. The earth gives off a heady scent of freshness that is comparable with the best hillsides and plains.

If you close your eyes, you could be transported to a land of red earth and pouring rain— of megha and varsha—of women clad in red saris with straw baskets on their heads, walking through a thin causeway in the fields. That the city can conjure up such images is refreshing—warm and rustic images in contrast to gray urban ones. Of love and bonding—welcoming with open arms as opposed to aloof and forbidding—two opposite poles.

The city that talks to us all-year round uses a harsh tongue—of blazing summers that show no mercy—Heat and dust that invoke images of barren deserts. But the monsoons make it easier to comprehend the language of the city, which is essentially the universal language of love and companionship. It’s exemplified by the mother who lovingly holds an umbrella over her little boy’s head while dropping him at school. Or the elderly husband who gently nudges his lifelong companion away from a vehicle that’s about to splash water all over her.

The monsoons draw a line extending from one heart to another—one that transcends borders, whether cultural, racial, economic, or political and gets to the heart of the matter—to raw, exposed feelings, mangled cries in the night, tearful farewells of departed souls, human pain, deep suffering, extreme emotion, trauma and despondency. And helps dissipate some of it into a more manageable bundle, one that is not so heavy to bear on the often frail human psyche. This is the language of the city. And if you listen carefully, you will understand what she is saying.

2009-07-16T03:19:00.000-07:00

Labor Pains

Lindsay Lohan works as a secretary to a publisher. Her job stinks—and quite literally so, ‘coz on several occasions she has to give her boss’s stinky pooch a bath.

Lohan has to financially support her younger sister who is in college. Since their parents’ died in a car accident a few years ago, it’s all been Lohan’s responsibility. She leads a tough, unenviable life. And just as she is on the verge of getting fired, she makes up a lie to save her job. She tells her boss that she is pregnant, knowing that he would then have to retain her due to the stringent employee discrimination laws. Hence the tagline “Some stories keep on growing”.

This lie works so well for her that she actually starts enjoying her fake pregnancy. With people offering her a seat on the bus and her colleagues giving her yummy pies, she feels cared for, if not spoiled. Things get even better when her cranky boss goes on a holiday, leaving his cute, sympathetic and supportive brother (played by Luke Kirby) in charge. Kirby sets up a division on parenting and promotes Lohan to associate editor. She is to handle the launch of a book — a hilarious take on the downside of pregnancy. He is convinced that she is the best person for the job, what with her experiencing her first “pregnancy”.

With her new office and the new man in her life, her life starts to turn around. How long will it last before things start spinning out of control?

Watch the movie to find out.

My review: This movie is watchable. Nothing great, but not bad either. Lindsay Lohan has several critics, but most of them criticize her personal choices or her lifestyle. I think she does a decent job as an actress. This film is important for Lohan since her “I know who killed me” and “Georgia Rules” didn’t do very well at the box office. I prefer her movies over Hilary Duff’s any day.

2009-07-05T23:35:00.000-07:00

Rashomon
A crime is committed in ancient Japan. A samurai warrior is murdered, and his wife, raped. A woodcutter and a priest narrate the story to a commoner, one rainy day.

The murderer who committed the crime, the victim (the samurai’s wife), the spirit of the dead man who talks through a medium, and finally the actual witness (a woodcutter)—all have differing versions of what happened.

How is that possible? Who is telling the truth? Why do people lie? What do they want to hide? These are some of the philosophical questions raised by Kurosawa in his highly acclaimed “Rashomon”.

While the woodcutter recounts his version of the crime, a baby is heard crying. The priest, the commoner, and the woodcutter go toward it, and the commoner tries to steal some objects from the baby. The woodcutter reproaches the commoner for stealing from the abandoned baby, but the commoner questions him about an object that went missing from the scene of the crime, figuring out that the woodcutter had something to do with it. The commoner laughs at the woodcutter saying all men are selfish and the woodcutter is no different.

When the priest witnesses this scene, his faith in humanity is lost. It is however, restored when the woodcutter explains that he wants to adopt the baby since he already has six children and another one will not be too much trouble. The priest now understands why the woodcutter had to steal and gives the baby to him, saying he has restored his faith in humanity.
This movie, made in 1950, is considered one of Kurosawa’s masterpieces, winning him popularity the world over.

2009-06-13T12:19:00.000-07:00

From domestic Goddesses to boardroom bigwigs…

Earlier, the immediate picture that came to mind when one thought of a woman was a charming, girlish, helpless, frail, and soft little creature who needed protection and who couldn’t quite figure out how the lock worked on the front door.

The scenario today—A modern, emancipated adult with a cast-iron image, who not only knows how the lock works, but probably how to manufacture it as well.

Is the woman of today different from the woman of yesterday? Definitely!

Yesterday, women had the potential but a vast majority of them were unable to prove themselves in the world due to social pressures and orthodox thinking that suppressed and stifled them. Women were severely restricted by traditional gender roles. The man was the breadwinner, while the woman looked after the family and children. The portrayal of women and men on television and other media tended to reinforce these conventional gender roles. Today, a young girl regularly sees female characters in films and on television working as lawyers, judges, administrators, or advertising professionals. Added to that, her mother, aunt, and friends also work for a living.

This opens different avenues of thought for her and she realizes that she need not conform to outmoded stereotypes. Today’s women have been encouraged to come out into the world, displaying their talents and abilities in myriad fields, such as art, architecture, interior decoration, journalism, medicine, computer science, law, defense, politics, and sports. Today, women are doing very well in their chosen field; fields hitherto considered a man’s domain.

Yesterday’s woman was meek and submissive, putting others’ needs first and hers last. Today, there is a consciousness among women to look after themselves, too. They are also more assertive and willing to take a stand on issues. The pioneering efforts of some outstanding women have paved a way for others to follow. There is a growing realization of self-worth among women in a largely male-dominated society. This may be a direct consequence to more number of women taking up careers. Women have gained in self-esteem and power within the family as they have moved outside the home and functioned as productive wage earners. Today’s woman is confident, intelligent, and capable of taking care of herself. She can manage a home and a career simultaneously, striking a harmonious balance between the two. She is self-made and makes her own decisions based on the choices placed before her.

Today, we have a day dedicated to women, websites and magazines exclusively for women, support groups for sexual harassment at the workplace, and grievance cells for eve-teasing. It is necessary for women to revel in the feeling that they were born as women and celebrate life.

However, our society has yet to reach that state when every woman can feel that way. The nation is faced with several issues that seem to overshadow the need for the emancipation of women. It is also true that women continue to experience second-class status throughout the world. It is estimated that women grow half the world’s food, but rarely own land. They constitute one-third of the world’s labor force, but are generally found in the lowest paying jobs.

Single parent households headed by women, which appear to be on the rise in many nations, are typically found in the poorest sections of the population. Indeed, the feminization of poverty has become a global phenomenon. According to a United Nations report on women’s lives around the world, the majority of women still lag far behind men in terms of wealth, power, and opportunity.

However, things are vastly better today than they were yesterday, and to quote a heroine, Scarlett O’ Hara, from my favorite book “Gone with the Wind”, “tomorrow is another day!”

2009-05-26T00:19:00.000-07:00

Apocalypse Now

Here’s a film that featured as the number one film to see before you die according to Film4's 50 Films To See Before You Die.

Directed by Francis Ford Coppola in 1979 and starring actors such as Marlon Brando and Martin Sheen, this film has bagged two Oscars (Cinematography and Sound), a Palm D’Or at Cannes, and three Golden Globes( Best Director, Best supporting actor, and Best Original Score).

With a long list of impressive accomplishments such as those listed, anyone would be curious to see the film.

Inspired by Joseph Conrad’s “Heart of Darkness”, the story is set during the Vietnam War. Captain Willard (Sheen) is entrusted with a covert mission. He has to travel to Cambodia and terminate Col. Kurtz’s command “with extreme prejudice”. Apparently, the colonel who was once brilliant and a highly decorated officer, has now lost his mind and is carrying on a reign of terror.

We follow Capt. Willard’s journey upstream where on the way, the lives of many of those accompanying him are lost due to incidents of enemy fire. When they reach Col. Kurtz’s outpost, they are greeted with a truly bizarre faction of people, his followers.

It is then that Capt. Willard journeys into the crazed mind of Kurtz to discover that Kurtz does not have a method to his madness. He, in fact, has “no method at all”. Kurtz is a man whose soul is in fragments, and he is totally deranged. For a while, Willard can’t decide whether Kurtz is insane or so brilliant that lesser mortals can’t understand him. Will he be swayed by Kurtz or carry out his mission as intended? Will he, too, lose his mind? These are questions that are answered when you watch the film.

During the filming of this movie, the director faced several challenges: Brando showed up on the sets overweight, Martin Sheen suffered a heart attack, bad weather plagued their shooting, not to mention destroyed expensive sets, and Coppola himself struggled with the end of the movie. However, this movie has made its mark in Hollywood history.

2009-05-19T00:01:00.000-07:00

Rosemary’s Baby-A Cult Classic

You must have heard of Rosemary’s Baby…even if you were born a long time after it was written and filmed. It’s one of those cult classics that remain a must-read book or a must-watch film.

This horror novel written in 1967 by Ira Levin was adapted as a film by Roman Polanski starring then-popular actress Mia Farrow. Ruth Gordon won an Oscar for best supporting actress for her portrayal of Minnie Castevet in this film.

The afterword in the novel by the writer says that this was the first-ever theme to talk about the birth of the anti-Christ. It set the stage for future horror films such as The Exorcist and The Omen.

Not being much of a fan of the horror genre, it was just curiosity that prompted me to pick up this book at the book store. Well, to be honest-curiosity and a huge discount;)

I had once asked my dad for the story of the film and I remembered the outline he gave me, so there was nothing new in the book for me. I failed to get goosebumps, nightmares, or any kind of “normal” reactions to such a book, merely because the writer has narrated the story simply and in a rather bland manner.

What sets this book apart is that it is one of the first of its kind. The author has also written “Stepford wives” and “Sliver”, both of which have been made into films and both of which I’ve seen. He specializes in creepy themes and is some sort of a pioneer with the kind of themes he writes about.

His disturbing and admittedly blasphemous concept in “Rosemary’s baby” and the sheer horror of the theme speaks for itself.

Rosemary and her husband, a struggling actor named Guy, have just moved into the Bramford, an old Gothic-style apartment building. A friend, Hutch, warns them about the building’s disturbing history, but they choose to ignore the stories and go ahead with their plans. They are soon befriended by Minnie and Roman Castavet, an eccentric elderly couple, who live next door. Guy becomes very close to the couple and starts spending a lot of time with them.

Guy’s flailing acting career suddenly sees an upswing after his rival goes mysteriously blind. Soon, Guy and Rosemary decide to conceive their first child. Rosemary is troubled by an eerie, evil dream. Following her conception, she starts seeing a doctor recommended by the old couple. Although a well-known name in his profession, he gives her weird advice and says she should not read any manual on pregnancy since each birth is different. She is also asked not to consult with her friends and compare notes on pregnancy. Her neighbour gives her foul-smelling herb drinks saying they will be good for the health of the baby.

Rosemary experiences terrible pain, which lasts for months, and her dear friend, Hutch, who visits her, is shocked at her appearance. Hutch says Rosemary looks as though a vampire were sucking out her life blood. Hutch wants to meet her the next day with some information, but he inexplicably slides into a coma, leaving Rosemary a book on witchcraft, which points to a horrifying reality.

Whether this was reality or a figment of her imagination as an offshoot of pre-natal depression is something debated by critics. But real or not, the experience is harrowing, even if it was only in her mind. I would advise mothers-to-be to steer clear of this book! Others who want to know what is real and what is not should read “Son of Rosemary” by the same author, which was written in the 90’s.

2009-04-17T01:39:00.001-07:00

The Wrestler

Randy "The Ram" Robinson (Mickey Rourke) was a professional wrestler who made the headlines of every major newspaper back in the eighties. With the passage of time, Randy is now in his twilight years. He manages to make both ends meet by wrestling in a few matches. The steroids and other body-building substances that he takes wreak havoc on his body.

When he collapses one day in the locker room after a particularly brutal fight, the doctor who attends to him tells him that he will not be able to wrestle anymore since his body can no longer take the strain. Estranged from his daughter, having no spouse to support him emotionally, and uncared for by anyone, save an exotic dancer (Marisa Tomei), he is unable to re- engage in a life devoid of wrestling.

Encouraged by his dancer friend, he attempts to make peace with his daughter, but old habits die hard. His booze-loving, irresponsible behavior pushes her further and further away. He tries to work at a grocery store, but when a fan recognizes him, he is ashamed of what he has become and longs for the glory he found back in the ring. He enters the ring one last time and that’s when his spirit comes alive and he simultaneously realizes that someone does care for him.

Although the theme of “I will survive” is normally inspiring, this movie depresses rather than inspires. Some of the wrestling scenes involving barbed wire, staples, and the like are too violent and bloody. But I guess that’s part of the package in a movie about wrestling.

This movie was nominated for two Oscars: one for Best Actor in a leading role and one for Best actress in a supporting role. Mickey Rourke won the Golden Globe for best actor in a leading role and was cheered on by the film fraternity since this has been a real-life comeback for Rourke who allegedly battled drug problems and was said to have blown his career due to his personal problems. Rourke reportedly turned down movies such Pulp Fiction which went on to become cult cinema.

The Wrestler is not only the resurrection of Randy Robinson, but in a way is also the resurrection of Mickey Rourke.

2009-04-03T22:29:00.000-07:00

Chicks Rule!

These days, chick lit and chick flicks have become extremely popular. As we know, chick lit is fiction targeted at single women around 30 years of age, consisting of a good dose of humor and maybe some romance. Chick flicks are movies with similar themes with women as their intended audience.

“Although usually including romantic elements, women’s fiction (including chick lit) is generally not considered a direct subcategory of the romance novel genre, because in women’s fiction the heroine’s relationship with her family or friends may be equally as important as her relationship with the hero.”, says Wikipedia.

“The Devil wears Prada”, “Everyone worth Knowing”, and “Chasing Harry Winston” by the author Lauren Weisberger are classic examples of chick lit. “The Devil wears Prada” has been made into a box-office hit starring Meryl Streep and Anne Hathaway. According to reports, the author’s third book, “Chasing Harry Winston” will be made into a film as well. Having read all three, my verdict is watch “The Devil Wears Prada” ---it is one of the rare cases where the movie is better than the book. You can totally skip “Everyone worth knowing”. It’s not exceptionally written. “Chasing Harry Winston” is a fun read.

One author I discovered recently was Megan Crane. I read her “English as a second language”, which was hilarious, engaging, and kept me company as only a friend could! It happens to be her first novel.

The story is about Alexandra Brennan, who decides to leave the US and her dead-end job there to study her Master’s in English Literature in the UK-- All because her ex-boyfriend said she didn’t have it in her. She makes new friends, adopts a nocturnal lifestyle that involves hanging out at the pub, sleepwalks through classes during the day, draws a motley crew of friends and acquaintances toward her with whom she experiences several misadventures, only to discover that she has found home. What sets this book apart is the author’s AMAZING sense of humour. Each sentence is hilarious. The writing style is light and irreverent. I can’t wait to read her other titles “Names my sisters call me”, “Frenemies”, and “Everyone else’s girl”.

Candace Bushnell is another author who has created powerful characters and her themes revolve around slightly older women who try to balance their dazzling careers and complicated personal lives. She is best known for her novel “Sex and the city”, which is the story of four women— Carrie Bradshaw, Charlotte, Samantha, and Miranda—three in their mid-thirties and one in her forties. The book examined the lives of these successful professional women in the late 1990s and portrayed the effect of changing roles and expectations for women on the characters. This led to the phenomenally popular television series by the same name, which is loosely based on the book. If you haven’t heard of it, it’s time you crawled out from under that rock you’ve been hiding ;). Her other famous book “Lipstick Jungle” is also about three sexy, powerful career women who will do anything to stay at the top of their fields. In Bushnell’s world, “chicks” rule the roost--pun intended;)

2009-03-24T00:53:00.000-07:00

The Reader

The tagline of this movie says “How far would you go to keep a secret?”

Kate Winslet plays Hanna Schmitz, a German woman in her thirties whose teenage lover is unaware of the dark secret in her past. After she vanishes from his life and a few years roll on, he runs into her while attending a Nazi court-trial as a student of law. She is on trial for some atrocities committed at some stage in her time as a warden in a concentration camp during the holocaust. As he realizes that she is in a position to save herself a prison sentence, he is shocked to find that she refuses to defend herself.

What secret does she consider more shameful and hideous than murder?

The movie is based on the best-selling 1995 novel by the same name written by Bernhard Schlink. The scenes involving the love affair between Kate and the teenage boy are done tastefully although a good portion of the film deals with just this. The look and feel of the film reminded me of The Pianist.

The Reader has won several awards at different award ceremonies and also won Kate Winslet an Oscar for best actress in a leading role. What probably made this film a favourite at the film festivals in the fact that it is another film that deals with the sensitive subject of the holocaust, but with a new twist. It urges the viewer to take pity on a death camp guard.

As the NY Times review mentions “…The film is neither about the Holocaust nor about those Germans who grappled with its legacy: it’s about making the audience feel good about a historical catastrophe that grows fainter with each new tasteful interpolation.”

2009-03-13T01:21:00.000-07:00

MILK

“I’m Harvey Milk, and I’m here to recruit you.”

Cries out Sean Penn in his role as Harvey Milk in the movie titled Milk, which won him the Oscar for best actor in a leading role at the 81st annual Oscar Awards. Harvey Milk was the first openly gay man to be elected to public office in the USA in 1977.

Milk’s story has been captured on film based on the tapes he left behind anticipating his assassination. Milk moves from New York to San Francisco in 1972 and becomes a businessman-- a camera store owner-- to be precise. In an effort to get more people to come to his store, he rounds up the gay community. What begins as an attempt to garner more business soon turns into political activism. He sets his heart on getting equal rights for his fraternity and stands for election. With his gay partner by his side, he runs his campaign two successive years, but fails to get elected. While his partner and campaign manager, Scott, leaves him since he is tired of Milk’s fight to get elected, Milk gets a new campaign manager and is finally elected to the post of supervisor in 1977.

The film then traces his political relationship with staunch social conservative, Dan White, who shoots to death Milk as well as the city's mayor, George Moscone, blaming his former colleagues for denying White's attempt to withdraw his resignation from the board. Dan White is sentenced to prison for five years and then commits suicide two years after his release.

This true-life story of Harvey Milk encourages the gay community to be honest with themselves and their family and urges them to come out of the closet. Those with not much insight into the gay community can get a better understanding of their history of persecution, which leads many of them to commit suicide. It is a brave story that needed to be told and no better choice of leading man could have been made than Sean Penn for his brilliant portrayal of Harvey Milk.

Accepting the Oscar he said, “Thank you. Thank you. You commie, homo-loving sons-of-guns.” On a more serious note, he leaves a message for the audience, “I think that it is a good time for those who voted for the ban against gay marriage to sit and reflect and anticipate their great shame and the shame in their grandchildren's eyes if they continue that way of support.”

On a lighter note, Robert De Niro who introduced him as one of the nominees for best actor jokingly wonders aloud how Sean ever got straight roles all these years. And it’s a sentiment that you will echo once you see his sensitive, brilliant performance.

2009-02-26T00:20:00.000-08:00

Marley and Me

In the summer of 1967, John Grogan was ten and had his first dog. The dog effortlessly mastered every command he taught him, behaved well, and was generally the type of dog that gives dogs a good name. Marley is not that dog. Marley is the exact opposite of that dog. He is a naughty, self-willed, catastrophic, bungling ninety-seven pound steamroller of a dog. As Grogan says, it is the story of “life and love with the world’s worst dog”.

John and Jenny are young and in love. They are carefree and supremely happy. That’s when they decide to bring home Marley—a wiggly, yellow furball of a puppy and name him after Bob Marley. He brings love and laughter into their home. But he is also a disaster waiting to happen. He tears up all their cushions, swallows the gold chain that John brings home for his wife (which they later recover from his poop), poops all over an exclusive dog beach where no dog has pooped before, and even stars in a movie, creating chaos all the while. He is extremely nervous during thunderstorms and if locked up in the garage creates havoc within seconds. When John and Jenny enroll him in obedience school, he is kicked out for being a bad influence on the other dogs.

But Marley also sees this little family through the birth of their three children, through their ups and downs, and despite his ebullience, knows when his mistress is feeling low and stays silent at those times by her side, comforting her through her sorrows.

John Grogan is an award-winning newspaper columnist and former editor-in-chief of Organic Gardening magazine. His book “Marley and Me” was inspired by the overwhelming response to his columns chronicling his real-life adventures with his dog. He knew then that he had touched on something big: “the story of not just a dog, not just of a family with a dog, but of the journey humans and animals take together. The ups, the downs, the laughter, the tears, the joys and heartbreaks. A journey worth taking.”

And no one could sum it up better than John when he says, “Dogs are great. Bad dogs, if we can really call them that, are perhaps the greatest of them all.”

What makes this a truly amazing read is the author’s prowess at storytelling. He has mastered the art of “Show, don’t tell” in storytelling and narrates clearly and with a great sense of humour, Marley’s antics. This heartwarming tale is a must-read for all dog lovers, but even those who are not “dog persons” will love it. The story reaches right into your heart and finds a place for itself there.

The movie of the same name starring Jennifer Aniston and Owen Wilson is based on the book and it stays true to the book. The casting of Owen Wilson and Jennifer Aniston in ‘Marley and me’ is not exactly a coup. My friend quite correctly commented that they look like siblings. Still, who can resist a movie with an adorable and goofy dog in the main lead?

Fun Trivia about the movie
o There were 22 different dogs used in the movie, all playing the one main dog.
o Owen Wilson's real parents played his parents in the movie. His mom's biggest problem was remembering not to call him Owen.
o Kathleen Turner, who played Marley's dog trainer, starred with Jennifer Aniston on "Friends" (1994) as Chandler Bing's cross-dressing father Charles.
o During the surprise birthday party scene you can see former Miami Herald columnist Dave Barry standing on the right of the shot smiling.
o The "Sun-Sentinel" and "Philadelphia Inquirer" office scenes were filmed on location.
o Cameo: The original book's author John Grogan appears as the Cocker Spaniel owner in the dog training class.
Source for Trivia: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0822832/trivia

For more information about the movie, visit http://marleyandmemovie.com/

This site allows you to “adopt” a virtual Marley, get a Marley widget, create e-cards, and join the campaign for adoption awareness.

2009-02-20T21:32:00.001-08:00

Men are from Mars; women are from Venus

“Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus”: This highly publicized book by John Gray captured the imagination and attention of the world in 1992. Seventeen years after its publication, the world has seen numerous changes. The dawn of the new millennium heralded the millennium man, the metrosexual male, the man who is in touch with his feelings and is not ashamed to show it. The image of the Marlboro man, rugged and tough gave way to the more, dare I say it... effeminate man.

The perception of women, too, underwent a drastic change. Earlier, the immediate picture that came to mind when one thought of a woman was a charming, girlish, helpless, frail, and soft little creature who needed protection and who couldn’t quite figure out how the lock worked on the front door. The scenario today—A modern, emancipated adult with a cast-iron image, who not only knows how the lock works, but probably how to manufacture it as well!

So, while John Gray examined stereotypes in his book, the world woke up to the contravention of all stereotypes.

Gray’s book still did well, though. After all, which man wouldn’t want an insight into his spouse’s last emotional outburst and which woman wouldn’t want to know why her man turns into a block of stone each time she wants to just “talk”.

While this pop psychology was a hit with the masses, it put off the more discerning reader who knew that human psychology and the man-woman equation is too delicate and complicated a thing to be explained in a book with a frivolous-sounding title. At best, the book engaged the minds of teenagers or those in their early twenties who were trying to get a handle on their boyfriend or girlfriend. The target audience is probably the same segment of the population interested in Linda Goodman’s Sun Signs. Although, I must say, I found Linda Goodman far more interesting than John Gray.

I found one concept of his, interesting, though. Gray talks about how men and women react differently to stress. When confronted with a stressful situation, men are known to retreat into a “cave”, meaning they don’t want to talk about it; women on the other hand, experience waves or periods of time when they need encouragement to keep their spirits at a crest and avoid a crash.

Some feminists across the world have found this analysis harmful to a real dialogue between the sexes. They argue that it is patronizing as it is written from the man’s point of view and it basically exhorts women to adapt to the male pattern of communication.

Somehow, the gender divide seems to be a popular topic with the sexes, the world-over, leading women to exclaim “Oh, it’s like as if men are from a different planet” and for men to rue the same about women. But are we really that dissimilar, or are we just excited about waging a battle of the sexes to satisfy our primal urge to go to war?

2009-01-28T02:43:00.000-08:00

Four Golden Globe Nominated Films

I watched quite a few of the Golden Globe nominated movies recently. Here’s my take on a few of them.

Slumdog Millionaire

This is based on Vikas Swarup’s book titled “Q& A”, which has now been reprinted as “Slumdog Millionaire”. I can only say I was dumbstruck by how truly TERRIBLE the book is. While the concept of a slum boy winning a quiz show is good and the fact that he knew the answer to each question because of his life experiences is even better, the writer has no sense of style and has introduced crazy twists and turns, cramming each page with the most dismal accounts of poverty and abuse. It leaves you feeling disturbed, depressed and sick.

The fact that the screenplay has left out SEVERAL elements of the book just shows that the screenplay writer probably knew that if the movie had to sell, it had to be less depressing, and more of a celebration of life.

The background score throughout the movie is upbeat and cheerful, but Jai Ho is certainly not Rahman’s best. I’m still proud of him and rooting for him. Hope he wins a couple of Oscars!

Happy-Go-Lucky

This British film stars Sally Hawkins as the “happy-go-lucky” 30-year old primary school teacher, Poppy, who lives one day at a time, smiles at every one she meets and talks to tramps, her driving instructor and the bookstore guy with equal zest, trying to spread sunshine all around.

While the story seems pleasant enough, Poppy starts getting on one’s nerves with her nervous giggle and her ditzy ways and one is left wondering if to be truly called “happy-go-lucky”, it is enough to giggle every 20 seconds!

She certainly lucked out though ‘coz she walked away with the Golden Globe for best actress, comedy. The film may not have had anything resembling a plot or a storyline, but the judges seemed to have been bowled over by Sally!

Burn after Reading

This was by far the best film I have seen in a while. Osbourne Cox, a Balkan expert, is fired from the CIA. He begins a memoir that falls into the hands of two gym instructors who think they can blackmail him into giving them serious money. Their little plan goes hilariously wrong involving extra-marital affairs, a couple of unplanned shoot-outs and the unceremonious end. Brad Pitt in a truly goofy role as the gym trainer , comes across more like a 14-year old with Attention Deficit Disorder. But you have to love him, anyway!

Revolutionary Road

Starring Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio, this is the story of a married couple, who find it hard to remember what it was that brought them together in the first place. They are disillusioned and bitter, but the wife tries to revive an old dream, a dream of going to Paris. For a while, they relive the early days of their marriage, but soon reality rears its ugly head. This movie is based on a book by Richard Yates, which I haven’t read, yet. On the whole, I would say it’s a a good movie. I thought Leo acted brilliantly, although the Golden Globe went to Kate.

2008-08-26T04:08:00.000-07:00

Living on the Edge

August 14th dawned bright and sunny. We were to celebrate Divya’s birthday at work that day ‘coz her birthday actually falls on the 15th, which is a holiday for independence day.

Ever since the cabs were stopped, Divya and I started traveling in the same auto to work. Since she lived just a couple of minutes away from my place, this was a sensible solution…or so we thought!

Divya had worn a new, white chikan work kurta and all the right accessories to complement it. As we sat inside the auto and began our journey, we had no inkling of what was to happen.

When we were halfway to work, a speeding bike appeared practically out of nowhere and crashed into the auto, making the auto unstable and overturning it on the road….with us in it.

I remember what went through my mind when the accident occurred. “This is it…our final moments”. Later, I found out that Divya had thought the same thing.

So the auto was on its side with me on the road and Divya on the side of the auto that was up in the air! I sustained minor cuts, bruises, and surface wounds. A little blood here and there. Although it looked as if Divya was unhurt and merely shaken by the accident, she later discovered she had pulled a ligament in her finger, which turned out to be a rather painful affair.

Divya’s treat to all of us for her birthday turned out to be a treat celebrating our narrow escape!We do consider ourselves lucky. It could have been much worse.

But after that day, every time we travel in an auto, our hearts are in our mouths. We keep telling the auto drivers to go slowly…and they never listen. Bikes whiz past us in all directions. Carts with long iron rods poking out of them dangerously are in front of us. We often get sandwiched between buses. Sometimes, I look at the bus tires with a vague sense of foreboding.Pedestrians and cyclists dart across making the auto driver screech to a halt. I keep wondering if the brakes are in perfect condition. Divya clutches her bags, her knuckles growing white with fear as we make our dreaded journey by auto.

In short, we have become absolute wrecks! Oh, for the safe and secure feeling of sitting in a Chevrolet Tavera and being driven to work in the office cab :(

2007-12-11T21:37:00.000-08:00

A Visit to the Dentist

A visit to the dentist is one activity I'd rather put off for when I'm eighty, but sometimes extenuating circumstances, like a piercing pain in your tooth force you to advance your visit.

Having never had much luck with dentists before, what with one of them drilling my tongue by mistake instead of my tooth( duh! and yowl!) , you can imagine the trepidation with which I set out looking for a dentist in Hyderabad. And can you believe it, I actually located a dentist through a signboard on the road and took my chances as I walked in.

Dr. S turned out to be a genial and eccentric man. Not to mention, quite cool. He had a rock song as his ring tone and seemed totally with it.

When I went to him, I had this excruciating pain in my molar. It turned out to be a botched up root canal job from one of my earlier dentists. Ho-hum! What's new. So he suggested I get an implant.

I had to go for my extraction one evening and when I went there, I could listen to Pearl Jam playing on the stereo. He felt the music would calm my nerves. Quite thoughtful! He then proceeded to seat me on the dreaded dentist's chair and took out a whole range of dental implements that looked like fancy gardening tools. Were all those things going to be inserted into my mouth?

Apparently, they were. After administering the anaesthetic, he proceeded to insert each one of those shiny tools into my mouth. I could hear crunching noises from my mouth and I started resembling a vampire that had just feasted on its latest victim what with all the blood, but surprisingly, I didn't feel a thing. What a relief! Now I have to go for the implant and I'm waiting for doc to fix up an appointment for me with the implantologist.

Niggling anxieties about whether the implantologist will do a good job keep mounting with each passing day.And not hearing from the dentist at all is hardly assuaging my fears considering I've already paid Rs. 5000 as advance.

It's been more than a month since my extraction and I've been roaming around town with this yawning cavity where my tooth once was, waiting for my dentist to get in touch. He assures me that he remembers the appointment has to be fixed and will do it soon. Wonder if the implantologist has just run away or vanished without a trace. And thus my weird experiences with dentists continues...

2007-12-11T19:46:00.000-08:00

My Weekend in Chennai

After two and a half months in Hyd, I finally traveled to Chennai to spend the weekend there. My mom had come to Hyd a month and a half ago, and we both left for Chennai together. She had totally enjoyed her visit as she went ,unescorted, all around Hyd visiting all the sight-seeing spots like Golconda Fort, the Zoo, Salarjung Museum, a few parks, and the malls.In fact, she was not really looking forward to going back to Chennai where the same old places of ( dis) interest were all there were.

Me, on the other hand, I was dying to go to Chennai. For the simple fact that it was home.

As soon as I reached Chennai, I felt deliriously happy. All the best memories that I have of the place were packaged tight and came rushing back. My favourite song, "The Boys of Summer" played on Worldspace, the weather was delightful, home-made iddlis made by dad...I felt this was a great welcome….the best welcome ever.

I spent most of Saturday shopping at Spencer Plaza since my dad was anyway going to be at work. My mom and I spent six hours looking for winter clothing and dvds.I didn’t feel like clubbing that night with friends and I decided to sleep early after reading The Queen of Spades by Alexander Pushkin. Not into Russian short stories at all, but dad had bought the book and I casually picked it up and started reading. Frankly don't know what the fuss is about Pushkin, if this story is anything to go by.

Woke up early the next day and went for a walk around the block with dad. In the afternoon, I convinced dad to come with me to Landmark and we looked at all the books there, finally picking up Philip Roth’s “The Human Stain” and “Olivia Joules and her overactive imagination” by Helen Fielding. I wanted to pick up the Tin Drum by Gunter Grass but my dad assured me that a story about a man who wilfully stayed 3 feet tall, set in the Nazi period, couldn't possibly be funnily written even if the blurb at the back of the book promised it was!

Came back home and then headed for the airport shortly. Was mightily pleased that both my parents came to drop me off.

I waited for my flight to take off and was slightly disconcerted that a drunk old man was my co-passenger. I don’t know how he managed to sneak a cask of alcohol past security, but there it was, plain as day, stuffed into the magazine holder.
He started a conversation with me since I had smartly sat in the wrong seat, but I discouraged his friendliness and buried my nose in "The Brothers Karamazov", an intimidating tome of 1000-odd pages and had an undisturbed flight.

Now I am back in Hyd, but I can’t wait for my mom to come here. That’s two weeks from now. Maybe this time, I'll accompany her on her sight seeing jaunts.

2007-11-21T19:55:00.002-08:00

On a Lazy Sunday Afternoon

On a lazy Sunday afternoon, I sat bored and restless. The summer heat had enveloped Chennai in a murky yellow haze.I turned on the television set. A beautiful mermaid, looking very much like the pale sea creature she was, washed to the shore, to the background of a lively tune. I really liked that video. I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep. I could see ruffles of peacock silk and tiny rose buds sewn on to shimmery ethereal fabric. Wispy threads of gold, and sequins and little mirrors decorated my dream as embroidered parrots with the faintest suggestion of pistachio swirled around me beckoning me to a world that I was wont to enter.

I stepped into an enchanting green meadow, and was fascinated with the shift and play of light through the trees. There was an intricate pattern through the foliage on the grass and a flock of parrots, jewel green, chattered and shrieked elated. The towering regal trees guided me to the deepest parts of the woods where I went to, unfettered by inhibition or instinct.

I spent hours stringing necklaces of seed pods and tickled my feet with long blades of green grass that grew lush and untamed. I tapped anthers dripping with pollen and they spilled onto my face and hair, looking like gold dust. Suddenly I felt a soft thud on my back. I opened my eyes lazily to find my ginger golden cat using me as his cushion. I realised I had just had an adventure, albeit in my mind, and was glad for the brief respite from the sullen brooding heat.

2007-11-21T19:55:00.001-08:00

The House from Yesterday

I lived in a huge rambling house before we shifted to our apartment here. The house we inhabited was definitely what one would call interesting. It was a colonial style mansion, which had seen better days. It had this huge cannonball tree from Madagascar near the gate and, believe it or not, there was a snake pit at its roots! The backyard resembled an equatorial rain forest replete with underbrush, canopy of thickset tree leaves, intertwining creepers…the works. In all my years of living there, I dared not venture into the ‘garden’ for fear of snakebite. A more enterprising inhabitant would have conducted survival camps in the ‘garden’ and made a hefty packet for himself. Alas, the woes of the fainthearted. When it rained, there would be bats swooping into the house and hanging upside down from the hall ceiling. Quite the horror movie background effect, that!

The front yard was made of red gravel and I would practice my shot putt there without fear of it landing on anyone’s toes. In the two-storeyed house, the landlord inhabited the ground floor while we stayed on top. He would be away for most part of the year and the times that he was in town, the whole neighbourhood would know, thanks to the huge rows that he had with the watchman, who lived at an adjoining out-house.

Now don’t get me wrong about the landlord. I’m on his side. It was the watchman who was quite a character. Almost eighty years old, the man could barely wake up and get through the day leave alone stand guard. He wore thick glasses and peered through them each time someone rang the bell. Every time I had a visitor, he would summon all his energy and pick a verbal duel, which he was totally unprepared for, with them on some pretext or the other. This proved embarrassing on more than one occasion as almost every friend of mine who came to see me would be subjected to this tirade. The two generations following his also lived along with him in the ou-house and having youth on their side, they were brash and obnoxious versions of the old man. The landlord was unable to throw this man out without seeming heartless and cruel and having that on his conscience. So the watchman lived on, in the outhouse with his insufferable son and grandson.

After I finally moved out of the house, I found out that some of my neighbours called it the Bhooth Bungalow! Hmm… I was hardly surprised. Anyway, I now live in an apartment, which is the modern homemaker’s dream. No endless cleaning and paying exorbitant rates for grumbling maidservants.
But it was just last night that I looked out of my window, and saw a bat weaving its way through the tree outside my bedroom window, which set me thinking of old times. This prompted me to take a walk through my old house. The sight that greeted me took me quite by surprise.
The house was gone and in its place stood a modern multi-storeyed apartment block. A smart gurkha in uniform stood at the gate and spoke in halting English. My maid later informed me that the old man had passed away peacefully into the night. Suddenly I felt a rush of guilt for my apathy toward the old man. I missed the old house. Walking down the street I thought to myself, the old house definitely had a spirit of its own.

2007-11-21T19:51:00.001-08:00

I would do anything for love…

The house loomed large against the black stillness of the night. Clouds obscured the moon and Aakanksha had to strain her eyes to keep sight of the muddy, godforsaken road. The cold, damp air gave her goosebumps. She wondered if this was a good idea after all.

When she had received an e- mail from Sohan, she had been overjoyed. As her entire school had known, Sohan had been her first and only true love. Sohan had studied with her until the first term of Class XI and then had left for the U.S to continue his studies there. His parents, however, lived here in Anand Nagar. She had been crazy about Sohan from the time she could remember her existence in this world. She called it existence, because it would be a life only if Sohan were in it. But, to Sohan , she was nothing more than another number on the class register. Notwithstanding the battering to her ego, she was sure that this was love and that some day he would recognise her feelings for what they were and love her like no other. Talk about wild dreams and flights of fancy.

Now, there was this e-mail from Sohan, saying he was coming down to Anand Nagar for his holidays and would be here for two weeks. Sohan-and writing to her? It was a dream come true. He wanted to meet up with her and had even left an address. Her excitement was palpable as she scribbled it down on her writing pad. With her fingers trembling a little with excitement, she wrote out a quick and effusive reply. No. That sounded too desperate. She wanted to play it cool. She rephrased herself so that she sounded less needy and clicked on send. The whole day she kept checking her mail for his reply. At 3.30 p.m. she received a reply confirming the date.

She spent the next couple of hours at the parlour doing up her hair and nails. She was lucky since it was only a half-day at work. She went back home to change into her favourite blue dress-the one that looked great on her complexion, and lied to her mother saying that she was staying at a friend’s house. And sure she picked the friend who didn’t have a telephone in her house and lived miles away from her. At last…things were beginning to happen. Her life was picking up. As she drove down the pot-holed roads, she sang in her heart and played her favourite songs. So caught up was she in her ebullience that she didn’t realise how lonely the road was getting. It was twilight and her mother’s oft-repeated warnings about the twilight hour being the most dangerous for drivers sprang up and nudged their way into her consciousness. Pushing these niggling anxieties away, she tried concentrating on the road ahead.

The house loomed large against the black stillness of the night. Clouds obscured the moon and Aakanksha had to strain her eyes to keep sight of the muddy, godforsaken road. The cold damp air gave her goosebumps. She wondered if this was a good idea after all.

Something swooped down and landed on her windshield. She heard herself scream. The car swerved out of control and crashed into a tree. Suddenly, a burly figure appeared out of nowhere. A man in a trenchcoat with a scarf over his mouth grabbed her by the arm and took her out of the car. She was blindfolded and gagged. Panic rose within her and she tasted bile. For a fleeting moment she thought she was going to throw up. A rough calloused hand closed in around her neck and fear gripped her with thin icy fingers. A horrible thought flashed across her mind. This man-what was he going to do with her?

As she struggled against his vice-like grip, he hit her. She could taste the blood on her lips. Oh God - where was she and who was this horrible man? What in the world was happening? This couldn’t be true. Suddenly, her feet felt cold. He was taking her to the beach. The icy cold water gnawed at her ankles.

Before she knew what was happening, the blindfold was pulled off and she was pushed rudely into the water. Falling face forward into the wave, Aakanksha could feel the salty, muddy water in her eyes. They burned but she couldn’t wipe them. Her hands were still tied. She blinked in pain and confusion and tears started falling uncontrollably. The shrill siren of an ambulance pierced the quiet night air. She struggled in the water and managed to crawl toward the shore. Leaning against the wreck of an old boat that was stationed there, she looked around for signs of her abductor, but he was nowhere in sight.

He had left her in the sea, with her hands tied and had disappeared. Probably the ambulance had scared him off. Once she got her bearings, she realised that things could have been worse and started running, afraid that he would reappear. She ran like she had never run before. It seemed like forever, but was probably for about ten minutes. She spotted a small shack and hurriedly ran towards the dim light. Just as she started yelling for help, a black gloved hand clamped her mouth shut and she felt searing pain as cold metal sliced through her…

Three days later, a small item in the local newspaper announced Aakanksha’s murder. Two fishermen who had seen it floating towards the shore had found her body. It was slightly bloated but the wound inflicted on her back could be seen. They reported their find to the police, who searched the area for clues. The investigation went on for a week before a bloodstained knife was found near a run-down shack. A broken key chain with the initial P was found along with a torn piece of cloth near the knife. The cloth matched the dress Aakanksha had worn the night of the murder.
Her colleagues at her office were questioned. They had known Aakanksha for only a month, as she had just finished school and joined the advertising agency as a copywriter. Aakanksha’s close friends from school, Rekha and Aditi were then questioned. They revealed that Aakanksha was a very friendly girl but was hugely infatuated with Sohan. Almost everybody in school knew of her crush on Sohan. A couple of other boys had been interested in her and about seven months ago, a boy named Paul had proposed to her in front of the whole class, but she had been rude to him and had laughed at him. She had also slapped him in front of everybody. He had felt very insulted and had grown very angry. Afterward, a group of boys had taunted him about the incident and he had been ragged by some of his neighbours as well (who had heard of the incident from the school boys.). His father was an alcoholic and mother was dying of cancer. After his mother’s death, he had dropped out of school and had not written his board exams. The police followed up this story.

Paul was suffering from depression and he was also of unsound mind ever since the incident. He had been brooding over Akanksha’s insults for a long time. When the police went to his house, he was frightened and trembling. He broke down and confessed to the murder. He said that he had known of Aakanksha’s feelings for Sohan and had tricked her into meeting him pretending to be Sohan, since he knew that she would surely come, if Sohan’s name was used. He had played on her Achilles heel and murdered her. He was sentenced to imprisonment after being referred to a psychiatrist.

Sohan, who was in the U.S, was contacted by e-mail. He was astounded to hear that a girl had been so in love with him. He felt very sorry for the girl and told his friends that he had been totally clueless about her feelings for him. He had been interested in getting a seat in an engineering college abroad and had been studying hard to do well in his entrance exams.

When he did come down for his holidays to meet his parents in Anand Nagar, he visited her parents and offered his condolences. They broke down and cried as the pain of losing their beautiful, only daughter was still fresh in their hearts. Aakanksha’s colleagues at the office paid their tributes as well….

To this day, the very name Aakanksha brings a stab of pain to all those concerned….

2007-11-21T19:46:00.001-08:00

The language of the city

The city can be cold and impersonal, where every person is cruelly reduced to a statistic- just one among the teeming population of settlers. I have often wondered what it would be like to live in a hill station. Away from the hustle and bustle of the city, away from all the pollution-photochemical smog, blaring horns, and giant buses vrooming past, exhausting a swirl of soot and smoke. It was just recently that I voiced my idea to my parents and to my surprise they actually took me seriously. That night, I slept like a baby, lulled into dreams of romantic interludes by candlelight dinners with gentle and mysterious men. I woke up the next day to greet what I am sure was one of the most beautiful mornings in the history of time.

There was a slight nip in the air and the rain had washed the earth until everything was as God intended it to be. Lush and green. Unspoiled by technology. No noise of loud automotives to be heard-everything tranquil, belying the industrial nature of the city- It was as if the city was revealing to us a much hidden facet of its. Like a shy bride on her first night, it was giving us an indication of things to come. The gentle downpour had at once cooled the temperature around by a perceptible degree and washed the entire land-the buildings, houses, trees, yards, roads and playgrounds, until they exuded an almost country air. The earth was giving a heady scent of freshness that was comparable with the best hillsides and the plains. Closing my eyes, I was transported to a land of red earth and pouring rain. Of megha and varsha-of women clad in red saris with straw baskets on their heads, walking through a thin causeway in the fields. That the city could conjure up such images was refreshing. Warm and rustic images in contrast to cold and urban ones. Of love and bonding- welcoming with open arms to cold and forbidding- shutting out-two separate poles.

It made me wonder about my desire to leave it. I was in a pensive frame of mind for a few days and then a transformation came over me. The city that used to talk to me earlier spoke in a cold and harsh tongue- in a language I could not follow-One that can be best exemplified by freezing winter bringing to mind chilly draughts of wind. Isolation. Like being trapped within an iceberg. But now I was beginning to comprehend the language of the city-, which was essentially the universal language of love and companionship. Of altruism and good nature-philanthropy and compassion.

A line extending from one heart to another-a line as vital to the functioning of the human being as the very arteries that pump blood from the heart. One that transcends borders-cultural, racial, economic, political and gets to the heart of the matter- to raw, exposed feelings, mangled cries in the night, tearful farewells of departed souls, human pain, deep suffering, extreme emotion, trauma and despondency. And helps dissipate some of it into a more manageable bundle, one that is not so heavy to bear, on the often frail human psyche. This is the language of the city. And we are its settlers. Sometimes complaining, sometimes cheerful, sometimes strong, and sometimes grateful. It is the same for every city in the world. We need to conduct a meaningful dialogue with it. Build up our social networks and live in man’s company rather than live in our own little cocoons that are safe but impregnable. Going out, meeting people, sharing ideas, information, joys, sorrows. Forming relationships. It is then that we can come full circle, and blossom into whole human beings.

2007-11-21T19:42:00.000-08:00

To Tortella, Ms. Gray, Velvet, and the others

She looks at me
With curiosity
Her eyes search mine in wonder
And perplexity
She waves her little paw
And writes her own law
Those that are weak
Need not be meek!
She is my little kitten
Softer than a mitten

…That goes out to Tortie, short for Tortella, the first kitten I adopted. I was about eight or nine returning home with a friend after a boisterous game of running and catching, when my friend drew my attention to this little kitten that was playing in the middle of the road with a puppy. Needless to point out, the sight was truly adorable and I often regret that I haven’t captured it on film. She suggested that I take the kitten home and keep her, when she saw that I was entranced by the little furball. I found the idea very appealing, and quickly took Tortie home.

She had a white base with orange, black and deep brown fur. Till date she is the most intelligent cat I have come across. She was so adorable that my mother couldn’t say no and she quickly joined part of our household. We had her for many years, and over the years, she gave birth to many kittens who then had kittens, until our house became a kind of a menagerie. Since it was an independent house, it did not trouble anyone, and the cats walked in and out of the house freely.

There was Velvet, who was a black and white fluffy tomcat who developed a taste for coffee, then there was Miss Gray who was a very plain little cat compared to her bushy siblings, but we loved her all the same. Ginger, got bitten by a dog and came home with a gaping hole in her chest, which frightened me. We took her to the vet, and I still can’t believe that nebasulf powder alone managed to heal her and make her all right. There was an Abyssinian Tabby who was very beautiful and adept at hunting down her own food. The only problem was, she would drag her prey into the house and we, being vegetarians found it difficult to tolerate beasts of all shapes in our living room. Our reaction would always be dismay at what the “cat dragged in!”

There were many other cats too. They would sniff at the flowers and blades of grass in the garden, and were polite enough to do their toilet in the mud outside the house, once they were potty trained. They were playful and I could spend hours leading them on with bits of string. They would chase it with fascination writ large upon their little faces. With eager thrusts of their paws, they would aim to catch the string, but never succeed. They would finally tire of it and amuse themselves with some other object like the tennis ball, which they would then hasten to roll under the chair. Sometimes, in their efforts to catch the ball that they had just pushed under the furniture, they would butt their heads against the wood, and carry on as if nothing happened.

Every time the refrigerator door was opened, all the cats would come rushing from wherever they were and there would be a mass of tails and fur. My grandmother who is not kindly disposed to having any kind of animals in the house, was quite shocked to say the least when she opened the fridge and this convergence of tails and fur took place. After that her visits to our household diminished in frequency, and I always had to make sure that the cats did not jump on her when she did come. She would use her forefinger to give little admonishing taps on their tails, which had no effect whatsoever on the felines, and only made me laugh, which annoyed her considerably.

I never felt lonely as a child. Although I had no siblings, I had so many pets and loved all of them so very much, that they were very much a part of our family.

2007-11-21T19:39:00.000-08:00

Roots

When Sir Vidia, better known as V.S .Naipaul, won the Nobel prize for literature, the question of his roots came to the fore. All of us wanted to call him an Indian, since it would mean bringing glory to our country. Naipaul has stayed in Trinidad and written about the place as well, just as he has about India. All of us clamouring to call him ‘our own’ in a desperate bid to catch a piece of the action, was rather pathetic considering his own statements of belonging to the world and caustic observations about India.

Another celebrity, a designer, Anand Jon, on the other hand is from Chennai. His impressive client list includes Mary G. Blige, Oscar nominated actors, Nadja Swarovski, Presidents and Prime Ministers the world over. When I interviewed him about his roots for a piece for Madras Plus, he could trace his roots to Madras-his vivid recollections of sneaking out into houses at 4 a.m to listen to heavy metal, to be replaced by bhajans at 7 a.m have a “bitter sweet lucid quality”. He also goes on to say that the ground where his grandparents were buried, in Kilpauk is sacred to him. He recalls the temples, Kanchipuram silks, the dosas, besant nagar beach, street brawls-In his own words, his roots in Madras are mischievous, melancholic, yet powerful.
Now that he is faced with rape charges, we as Indians may not be so eager to call him our own.

Do we really take time out to acknowledge the influences in our lives and importance of our roots?

I trace my roots to Madras. I was born in Nagercoil, Kanyakumari District, but have no recollection of that place. What I do remember are my childhood days spent here in Madras. I spent the first twelve years of my life in Chennai. I used to be a bookworm until I learned what it was like to have friends. I used to frequent a library with my mother and borrow books, which I would start reading even before reaching home. One day, the daughter of the librarian invited me to join her gang for a game of hide and seek. On that day, began a lifelong friendship, which has given me wonderful memories to look back on and smile.

We were a gang of five who formed the A.F Club. A.F standing for Adventurous Five. Inspired by the exploits of the children in the Enid Blyton books, we would look for clues and try to solve mysteries. Most of the time, the investigation would involve tailing or shadowing suspicious looking men on bicycles. At that point in our lives, anyone with a moustache was considered a suitable candidate for categorising as ‘suspicious’. We also used to sit outside the library singing English pop songs. I would cycle up to my friend’s house and go up to her terrace from where we would make catapults and target annoying boys from our respective schools as they passed by in the evenings. They would, in turn, deflate the air from my bicycle in school, and thus the war between the girls and the boys went on.

We went swimming in the evenings and did our handstands in the pool. We would stand upside down in the shallow end of the pool with only our legs sticking out of the water, and hold our breath, to see who could do it the longest. We threw ‘parties’ in my house which happened to be the headquarters of the A.F. Club, and invited our non-A.F members to come and enjoy themselves as we performed dances for popular film numbers, for which the planning and organising went on weeks in advance. Of course, snacks and drinks were also provided. On birthdays, we would organise treasure hunts across the neighbourhood and teams of little girls and boys could be seen rushing about from place to place looking for the grand treasure, which would be a box of sweets.

What we looked forward to the most were our annual excursions to Mahabalipuram. My parents would drive us kids to the beach resort where we would play in the water from 6. a.m to 1. 30 p.m and come out looking like black, dried prunes. We used to plan months in advance as to which tapes we would take in the car and what we would do upon reaching there. All this would be hastily forgotten as soon as we saw the cool beckoning blue waters of the sea. We were quite the water babies.

These golden memories are all part of who I am today. …No matter where we go in life, it is important to remember where we came from.

2007-11-21T19:34:00.000-08:00

My First Visit to Kerala

It was my first visit to Kerala. Of course I have met many Keralites and heard a lot about God’s own country, but a visit to a small village called Pazhayannur made me realise just how peaceful and close to nature the place really was. My mom’s chithapa has a huge rambling house there, which has been handed down to him from the previous generation. A small pond faces it and a beautiful temple stands in front of the edifice.

I had been persuaded by my mom’s cousin who is actually only a couple of years older than I, to join the extended family for a devasam at Pazhayannur. I had agreed since I wanted to mingle with my family, many of whose members I had not met previously. At the time I was a lot thinner, and had short hair with tints of brown in it. With my jeans and colourful Tee shirts I presented an interesting contrast to the rural landscape.

I had a great time walking down causeways in the fields to the well and drawing water from it for drinking. Visits to a nearby dam made me wonder if water was as scarce as we imagine it to be. I picked four-leafed clovers from near the waterfront and peeled jackfruit, washed my own clothes, and slept on a mat on the floor.

The sudden appearance of an arachnid one night caused a bit of a hullabaloo since my grandmother who shared the room with me was every bit as scared as I am of the creepy eight- legged creatures. Then, of course, the whole household was up…. My mother’s 6 chithapas, their wives and children! Many theories started floating about as to why the spider could not have been seen, while my mom’s cousin slyly suggested that there were more snakes there than spiders anyway.

A few loose floorboards were pried open and we all checked to see if there were any other creepy crawlies underneath. Thankfully, there were none that we could see. So we all went to our respective places and tried to sleep. I say tried, because each time we closed our eyes we could see a few multi-legged creatures walking on us.

And, of course, my grandmother started on the stories of all the times in the past that she had encountered spiders, huge hairy ones, which if picturised would have put a tarantula to shame! So much for spiders and snakes!

One night, we all went to the temple facing the house and lit lamps there. The next night, there was a vellichappad. A priest came to the temple and after chanting a lot of mantras he started hopping around the temple screaming loudly and generally attracting all our attention. I do not mean to sound irreverent here, but my belief in God does not extend to idol worship. I believe in a super power but I more or less conform to the opinion that it is within each one of us. So that does not make me an agnostic, but just a believer, I guess. My mom’s cousin informed me that the priest was possessed by God, or rather God had entered his physical body and if anybody wanted to consult the priest on any matter, he would speak like an oracle. Well- One look at the situation and I stayed away!

I really wanted to take photographs of the ongoing hungama but was informed by my family that it would be against the rules. Suddenly I felt like Pooja Batra in Virasat who kept clicking snaps of each new thing she encountered in the village. If only I looked as good as she did as well!

On another day we went to the nearby temple and fed the fish. We also went to Guruvayur and saw the huge elephant there. We had our Darshan and I prayed for so long that everybody started complaining. Despite what I say about not believing in idol worship, I can pray long and hard if taken to a temple.

I love the peaceful atmosphere that prevails in temples, except that in places like Guruvayur, there are so many devotees queuing up to have a darshan, and the distribution of prasadam is so organised that one feels it is a commercial activity like any other.

Anyway, I came back from Kerala a more relaxed and refreshed being, the only downside being that I had a battery of examinations to clear, as these had been my study holidays!

2007-11-14T23:12:00.000-08:00

The Inheritance of Loss-A Book Review

The Inheritance of Loss by Kiran Desai is an extremely well-written story of a family living in the Himalayas. Sai, a young girl; her grandfather, the cynical judge; the cook and his son, Biju; Gyan, Sai's tutor; two elderly sisters; two elderly gentlemen; form the cast of characters in the book.

The author has finely etched all the characters and fleshed them out into very real and lifelike individuals whom you can understand, sometimes hating them, sometimes loving them, but never able to ignore them.

The book deals with young love, cynicism, political insurgency, immigration, nationalism, idealism and confusion faced by people who are strangers in their own land.

Bottomline: Excellent read; beautiful descriptions.

2007-11-14T23:07:00.000-08:00

A Walk in the Woods-A Book Review

I just finished reading A Walk in the Woods by Bill Bryson. I've been wanting to read one of Bryson's books for a long time and I finally bought this book after reading an interesting excerpt from it on Amazon.com

The excerpt was a funny one involving the spooky presence of something big, possibly a bear in Bryson's campsite.

However, not all of the book is laugh-out-loud-funny as promised. Portions of it are like a geography lesson about the Appalachian trail. The book is 394 pages and there are only bits of it that are funny. It is otherwise non-fiction and an account of Bryson's trek through the trail with his humourous friend Katz and their encounters with different people on the trek interspersed with lots and lots of facts.

Google Talk

2007-10-12T02:31:00.000-07:00

2007-10-08T00:59:00.000-07:00

Random Rants

Rant 1:Four visits to Chennai in three months and I'm tired of travelling already. These days, even if it's a flight that I'm taking and not the train, unless I get four to five days to spend in Chennai, the trip seems cumbersome.Call it reaching the wrong side of thirty or just plain travel blues, but it's no joy shunting from Hyderabad to Chennai.

Rant 2:Living in a beautiful apartment does come at a price. I'm not talking about the rent, which anyway, is steep, but the necessity to maintain it clean and tidy.This takes more out of one that one would imagine. Constant cleaning is necessary to keep the floor free of hair!

Rant 3:Talking about hair, what is it with the hair loss here? Is it the water in Hyderabad? I find it really hard to believe coz the water seems sparkly at best.Methinks it is the harsh chemical treatments I have subjected my hair to, with a view to experimenting with my hair.

Okay, enough grumbling for now:)

2007-10-04T22:14:00.001-07:00

A friend's hilarious blog...

2007-08-20T21:30:00.001-07:00

Fitness Mantra

Today, I plan to start gymming in the office gym. It's about time I brought in a fitness regimen into my life. Eat healthy and exercise plenty:)

2007-08-20T20:37:00.000-07:00

A run-in with the cops

The other day, my friends and I went for a drive to film nagar. It was around 11.30 p.m and we had halted the car by the side of the road so that we could take snaps of the view. Suddenly, 4-5 cops stopped by and started questioning us. What were we doing there, why were we there, where our license was etc.

V, who was driving , had had his license confiscated in an earlier incident with the cops about a month back since his car was registered in Tamil Nadu and we were in A.P. He, however, had a piece of paper to prove that the incident had taken place.

So we were a bit nervous. However, it soon became clear that the cops only wanted money and nothing else. They kept saying if we didn't give them money, they would take us to the police station.

I was really upset and annoyed that these cops were so corrupt. In fact, two of them were even drunk!

Anyway, we shelled out a small amount and left the scene. Some things never change in India.:(

2007-07-18T01:52:00.001-07:00

Trip to Chennai

I'm back from Chennai. I had travelled by Kacheguda Express, which left Kacheguda station, Hyderabad, at 4 p.m and reached Chennai the next morning at 6.40 a.m. The train fare was just a little over 300 bucks one way.

I left on Friday evening and reached Chennai on Saturday morning. The day flew by and before I knew it, it was time to get back on Sunday evening. The train left Egmore station at 5 p.m and reached Kacheguda station at 7.30 or so. From there, home was another hour away by auto. Although I didn't go to too many places in Chennai, just being there with my parents has recharged my batteries:)

2007-07-12T20:13:00.000-07:00

Working in Hyderabad

I worked with Cognizant, Chennai from October 2005 to March 2007. After a three- month sabbatical, I have joined UBS, Hyderabad. This is the first time I'm living away from my parents. So far it has been a good experience.

The first two weeks that I was here, I was living in the company-allotted guesthouse. I had to look for a flat to move into within those two weeks. Miraculously, I managed that, thanks to my friend who noticed an ad in the newspaper. So no hassles with any brokers. I went for my pre-employment screening to Apollo Hospitals in Jubilee Hills.

Every day, it would rain and we would get caught in the showers. By the time my dad arrived from Chennai with my wind cheater and umbrellas, the rains were over!

I visited Ten Downing Street (a night club), Sparks( another night club, which sucked), a few eat-out joints, the Husain Sagar lake, Nagarjuna Sagar Dam, Ettipotala falls, and Hyderabad Central( a mall).

One thing I found odd here was that discotheques are located in malls and not in 5-star hotels.

I missed my team outing to Celebrity Club on a Sunday where they went horse riding, played cricket, and swam. I had to go looking for flats since I was at the guesthouse that time, and only saturdays and Sundays were free for that purpose.

Now, UBS has over 1000 people at its India Serice Center( ISC) and recently, Clive Standish, the CFO, and the Chief Minister of A.P, Y. Rajasekhar Reddy, inaugurated the facility here.

I had my mandatory training sessions in financial markets although my role is that of an English language editor. My designation here is Senior Analyst.

I'm leaving for Chennai today to be with my family for the weekend and I can't wait. I miss the things that I took for granted at home.

Although I've moved into a beautiful 2BHK here, I still haven't got a maid.The only candidate for the maid position demanded 1200 p.m!

There is no one home when I get back, except for the television set. There aren't that many shops here as there were in Chennai and I miss the convenience of everyday shopping, not to mention my friends and family...

So Chennai, here I come!

2007-05-22T23:41:00.000-07:00

MANY LIVES, MANY MASTERS BY Dr. BRYAN WEISS

It's midsummer in Chennai with power cuts happening regularly. Not much one can do to spend one's time other than reading, watching T.V/movies, window shopping or just simply lazing. So I'm doing a combination of all these activities.

Recently, I read this book called Many lives, many masters by Dr. Bryan Weiss. He is a highly established mental health professional( psychiatrist) based in the U.S. He has degrees from leading universities in the U.S. He says he was not much a believer of past lives until he met a young lady who changed his life forever.

She was suffering from anxiety attacks and conventional methods of treatment, such as medication, didn't really help her.

So he subjected her to a session of hypnosis and then realised that she started recalling events from her past lives. At first, he was very skeptical about the whole thing, but he soon realised that she was truly able to recall these events. In her wakeful state, she had no knowledge of the topics about which she spoke. Nor was she faking it or being an actress. She did not have any kind of multiple personality disorder either, he says.

After several such sessions, he realised that she was much calmer and had achieved remarkable progress in her health.

His sessions with her helped him too, he says. He had been very skeptical about past life regression therapy until he met her. He said that she had psychic abilities and was able to bring to him messages from the "masters".

After a lot of deliberation, he decided to go public with the insights he received.

He has since then published about four more books. One of his other books "Only love is real" is another hot favourite with people my age. But I couldn't finish it since I found that most of the material was very similar to that of his first book.Nothing very new was discussed. "If you have read one, you have read them all" is what I would say.

I read this book, completely non judgemental. I am a bit skeptical myself about past lives. Somehow, it does not gel with my belief system. However, the book was an interesting read.

2007-01-25T18:53:00.001-08:00

Word Association Test Results

I have issues with...

heredity
hinder
sacrifice
cold
labor

Take Word Association Test

2007-01-25T18:34:00.000-08:00

Which Hollywood movie am I most like?

What Classic Movie Are You?
personality tests by similarminds.com

2007-01-25T18:28:00.000-08:00

Which Great Leader Am I Most Like?

What Famous Leader Are You?
personality tests by similarminds.com

2007-01-16T03:31:00.000-08:00

I took a quiz on Ryze just now from somebody's page....

The topic was YOUR INNER SELF

This is what my quiz indicated:

You are being controlled by the youngest son of Devil - Luttappi. While your good self tries to be good, Luttappi gains control. However, since Luttappi is not so powerful, you are good most of the time.You tend to love yourself more than anyone else. Success is important to you. You are playful and tend to be naughty at times.

There was a cute pic of a devil, but I was unable to copy/paste the HTML code correctly.

2007-01-07T03:59:00.000-08:00

A question

Have you ever felt your life is like a science experiment gone horribly wrong? No? Then, consider yourself among the 99.9 % of normal folks. Sometimes, this phrase borrowed from "The third rock from the sun" is the one that suits me the best!

2007-01-04T23:26:00.000-08:00

Tim Allen's Book

I just started reading Tim Allen's book called "I'm not really here". It's been on the New York Times bestseller list and it is easy to see why. This guy is hilarious. I love him. I used to watch his programme on Star world---Home Improvement--- all the time. He is so funny.

In this book, he talks about some serious metaphysical stuff, but the best part is, it's all in layman language. So now, you will learn about Schrodinger's cat, The uncertainty principle propounded by Heisenberg in 1932, cognitive dissonance and malaise without having jargon thrown at you.

The only worrisome aspect in this: he says pondering about all these "serious" issues is natural at his age--mid-life( crisis??)---but here I am pondering about it at age 29!!! :)

2006-12-18T00:03:00.001-08:00

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

I watched Jim Carrey's "Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind" recently.

I'm not sure how many people who watched this film felt it made sense. But it made sense to me..

Plot spoiler follows:

Jim Carrey falls in love with this impulsive, beautiful, talkative, interesting girl( Kate Winslet).

They meet regularly...

Suddenly, one day when he goes to meet her at the store where she works, she acts as though he were a stranger.

He is hurt and confused. When he gets back home...he gets a card saying that he has been erased from her memory by a doctor since she went to him and said she wanted to forget this painful relationship.

He goes there to find out more...

He registers himself as a patient and wants to erase her from his mind, too. But somewhere in the middle of the process, he realises that one of the doc's assistants(Elijah Wood) fell in love with Kate Winslet and he has stolen Jim's identity. He is now trying to woo her.

Jim Carrey tries to thwart the strong waves that are entering his head through the apparatus strapped to his cranium, and he undergoes mental torture in his effort to get back with his girlfriend.

Thankfully, his efforts are successful...

The sub-plot involves Kirsten Dunst who works in the doc's office. She has harboured a crush on him forever. What she does not know is that her memory of the brief affair with the doc has been erased by him since it was in the best interests of everyone concerned. (Coz the doc's an old dude pushing 50 and has a wife and kids..)

So this is the movie...

Does anybody want to watch it?

Oh! And the title of the movie is a quote from Alexander Pope..(for all u literature buffs)

Farenheit 9/11

2006-12-03T04:40:00.000-08:00

Farenheit 9/11

This is one of the best movies ever. Pity I waited so long to watch it. Made by Michael Moore in 2004, this movie is about how George W. Bush "cheated" his way into becoming the President of the U.S.A. The movie reveals how several members of the Black community were disenfranchised, so that their votes to Al Gore could not be counted. The Blacks still tried to stop Bush Jr. from becoming President, but not one member of the senate would vote against Bush Jr. Probably coz they were all his daddy's friends.

Once elected, on the day of his confirmation, his car was pelted with rotten eggs; and thus, for the first time in the history of the Unites States, a President did away with the customary walk to the White House, and, instead, drove by quickly in his car.

The day the twin-tower tragedy struck, Bush Jr. was at an elementary school reading out to children. When informed of the grave attack on the WTC, the President did nothing for about ten minutes. He continued reading out to the children.

Micheal Moore reveals how every company that Bush Jr. was ever a part of did terribly. He was funded by Saudis and had ties with the Bin Laden family that went back three decades. Moore also reveals how despite clear indications that Osama was behind the attack, Bush allowed twenty-odd members of the Bin Laden family to fly back to their country without even a routine questioning.

Moore says that later, Bush and Rumsfeld created an atmosphere of terror by giving out reports of terrorism, which were meant to scare the public. By giving out confusing messages, the Bush administration had the American people in a state of panic.

They also built a case against Saddam Hussein saying he was harbouring weapons of mass destruction. However, these "weapons" could never be found. Instead of going after Osama, they went after Saddam and declared war on Iraq. Thousands were killed and wounded, severely maimed for life. It was like Vietnam all over again.

Soldiers who were posted in Iraq wrote to their mothers saying that they did not want to kill these innocent women and children, cilvilians who clearly knew nothing.

But the war went on and Bush Jr. justified it saying that it was in the best interests of the people of Iraq. It was to enable a stable government in Iraq.

And the documentary goes on to show in a most moving and heart-rending way, the very real pain felt by the families affected by the war.

Moore tried to get senators to enlist their children in the army, but no senator wanted his or her child to be send to this meaningless slaughter.

This sad and grave story is the story documented by Micheal Moore. He uses his wit to highlight all the wrongs that took place and are still taking place in the world today.

For his efforts, his film won an award in 2004.

Watch it!