Ram comes to the aid of Ram. Well! not an aid, technically speaking. He has tagged me for favourite Tamil Films and this is a topic very close to my heart. In fact, even if Ram hadn't tagged me, I would have gone ahead and written about "My experiments with Tamil Cinema" (Yes! I am shameless). Thankfully, now I can say that I wrote b'coz it was 'requested' (as if the whole wide world is waiting to know what I think of Tamil Cinema). Add to that, Rediff is asking 'Famous Personalities' their list of Top ten Indian Movies and it serves my ego that I am a part of this elite group. hhhheeeeehhheee
Naayagan
That someone can potray a young rebel to an ageing don in one movie - I still find hard to believe. Naayagan is for Kamal, even if Mani scores his points for the direction.
Iruvar
Cinema! Iruvar introduced me to the world of cinema (even though I must have watched heaps of movies until then, Iruvar was the first movie I saw - if you know what I mean). I was 'drunk' with this movie.
Hey Ram
An important milestone in my growth. Personally, I feel that its a shame that not one in Rediff put this movie on their top 10. A pan-Indian movie, painfully true, transforming in its screenplay. An almost perfect movie.
Thiruvilayadal
Shivaji was so good in Thiruvilayadal, that sometimes when you try picturising Lord Shiva in your mind's eye, you get Shivaji. It is perhaps true of also Kappalootiya Tamizhan and Veerapandiya Kattabomman as well.
Veedu
Perhaps I like my world slow and coffee cold. So??? Chockalinga Baghavadhar is my all time favourite HERO.
Alaipayuthey
Who said cinema cannot teach LIFE-CHANGING lessons? To me, Alaipayuthey was a lesson in life - giving me a trust in love, a faith in marriage. The best stroy-screenplay for the 'madly-in-love, and 'happily-ever-after' youth. Yes! the domestic quarrels were amateurish (Chalte Chalte dealt with that much better). Still...
Sethu
Bala breathed in new life to Tamil cinema with dare-to-be-different filmmaking when people were happy to do the run of the mill stuff. Stark, real and brooding.
Guru-Sishyan
Rajini at his comical best. Hilarious. Surely the super-hero Rajini was no match to the Guru. Underwear.
Thillu-Mullu
Need I say Ayampettai Aavudai Nambi Kaliapperumal Chandran was unstoppable? Thengai Srinivasan was equally good in this KB ribtickler.
EthirNeechal
The multitude of distinct and very interesting characters (the potrayals were thorough), Nagesh and KB's genius; everything stands apart from current movies where we have one-dimensional characters sloppily shown.
p.s. Pls note that the movies are not ranked in any order
Addendum
As Ranganathan pointed out, I have regrettably not included any MGR movie in the list. So...
Enga Veetu Pillai
An MGR classic which should have been in the Top 10, with right proportion of comedy (the malapropisms of Nagesh were screaming hilarious), politics (who can ever forget Naan Aanai Ittal), villainy (Nambiar, the villain of villains), and not to forget MGR's double act (of the contrast bet'n the timid and the ebullient MGR). RightO!
Time whizzes by and I, I write of glimpses I steal
Thursday, June 30, 2005
Wednesday, June 29, 2005
Mars and Venus
I never quite figured out why the sexual urge of men and women differ so much. I never did resolve the mystery of the whole Venus and Mars thing, either. And I never figured out why men think with their head and women with their heart.
One evening last week, my girlfriend and I were getting into bed.
Well,the passion started to heat up, and she abruptly stopped and said "I don't feel like it, I just want you to HOLD me."
I said "WHAT????!!! What was that?!"
So she said the words that every boyfriend on the planet dreads to hear..."You're just not in touch with my emotional needs as a woman enough for me to satisfy your physical needs as a man."
She responded to my puzzled look by saying, "Can't you just love me for who I am and not what I do for you in the bedroom?"
Realizing that nothing was going to happen that night, I went home.
The very next day I opted to take the day off to spend time with her. We went out to a nice romantic lunch by the lake and then went shopping to David Jones (a big, expensive department store, where you get everything from Armani to Zucci Golf). I walked around with her while she tried on several different very expensive outfits and selected a Gucci and a La Prada. She couldn't decide which one to take and I told her we'll just buy them both. She wanted new shoes to compliment her new clothes, and I suggested that she get a pair for each outfit.
The very next day I opted to take the day off to spend time with her. We went out to a nice romantic lunch by the lake and then went shopping to David Jones (a big, expensive department store, where you get everything from Armani to Zucci Golf). I walked around with her while she tried on several different very expensive outfits and selected a Gucci and a La Prada. She couldn't decide which one to take and I told her we'll just buy them both. She wanted new shoes to compliment her new clothes, and I suggested that she get a pair for each outfit.
We passed by the beauty section and she bought her make-up; lipsticks from Colose, face packs from Yves Rocher, Rouge, etc. etc while I smilingly stood by and even selected colours. Fragrance wafted by, and she jazzed to the Perfume section and got herself a Chanel.
We went onto the jewellery department where she picked out a pair of pearl drops for her ears. And I still had my indulgent smile. Let me tell you...she was so excited. She must have thought I was one wave short of a shipwreck. I started to think she was testing me because she asked for a tennis wristband when I knew she didn't even know to play tennis or cared to. I think I threw her for a loop when I said, "That's fine, honey." She looked like she was near orgasm from all of the excitement (a la Theresa).
Smiling with excited anticipation she purred, "I think this is all dear, let's go pay up to the cashier and leave".
I could hardly contain myself when I blurted out, "No honey, I don't feel like it".
Her face just went completely blank as her jaw dropped with a baffled "WHAT???!!!"
I then said, "Really honey! I just want you to HOLD this stuff for a while. You're just not in touch with my financial needs as a man enough for me to satisfy your shopping needs as a woman".
And just when she had this look like she was going to kill me, I added, "Why can't you just love me for who I am and not for the things I buy you?"
Obviously I didn't get sex that night either. Apparently I'm not having sex for a long time to come.
-----------------------------------------------------
This is the work of some unknown Martian (who has all my sympathies). I have merely added some spice and written it in my style.
Sunday, June 26, 2005
Movies, this weekend
It was a very relaxed weekend with a lot of sleeping, some reading (nothing related to Engineering - even remotely), a bit of Cricket (Aus. vs B'desh - I was hoping to catch the Aussie blokes squirm on the field but they ended up winning quite comprehensively) and some Wimbledon (I watch only Maria Sharapova matches, hhhheeee) and two very good (in their own way) movies.
The First Movie needs no introduction to any Tamil movie-goer. It was thespian Shivaji Ganesan at his histrionic best (arguably) in Veerapandiya Kattabomman. Well! there were too many songs than was required (or bearable) and too much noise that made Saamy look decibelly benign. But what the heck! It was a great movie. You need proof!, look at the impact of VK on modern cinema. For instance, Vellaiyamma's (Padmini) unchallenged 'Kaalai' finds expression in Virumandi and Jackson Durai's trick of not giving a seat to VK in Padaiyappa. (Jackson even says, in a muted much tamer Ramya manner, un style innum maaralai). If only Shivaji had noted the oonjal.
The second movie needs no introduction to any Sci-Fi movie fan. The inimitable Spielberg at his best (the problem with Spielberg is he surpasses himself with every movie he makes - proof: Terminal) with an insanely clever plot in Minority Report. The premise of Pre-cognizance and Pre-crime, is scientfically and morally disturbing and the deft handling of the screenplay (with not one slack moment) rivetted you to the couch (even if your Microwave beeped a million times to remind the food was cooked and your stomach growled in hunger in a synchronous orchestra of sorts). Throw in some religion, politics and philosophy (fatalism, cause and effect, etc. etc) and Voila, you have a Spielberg classic. The greatest feat of 'Minority report' was that it remained HUMAN at its core.
Spielberg's WAR OF THE WORLDS is releasing this week and boy! am I excited. There was a preview of WOTW yesternight and Spielberg talked about how H.G.Wells wrote the original WOTW as a critique on the colonisation policy of Britain (after he witnessed the treatment of Aborigines in Tasmania-Australia). He wanted to point out that strength is relative and wrote the invasion of the world by Martians as a warning to the British empire.
Spielberg, casually remarked how the movie was in a way appropriate at this time, due to the recent Imperialistic policy of America; of the past five years as he euphemistically put (please note: no mention of GW Bush - but it quite can't be mistaken for someone else, can it?)
Veerapandiya Kattabomman or Minority Report, a good movie is all that makes weekends weekends. Right???
The First Movie needs no introduction to any Tamil movie-goer. It was thespian Shivaji Ganesan at his histrionic best (arguably) in Veerapandiya Kattabomman. Well! there were too many songs than was required (or bearable) and too much noise that made Saamy look decibelly benign. But what the heck! It was a great movie. You need proof!, look at the impact of VK on modern cinema. For instance, Vellaiyamma's (Padmini) unchallenged 'Kaalai' finds expression in Virumandi and Jackson Durai's trick of not giving a seat to VK in Padaiyappa. (Jackson even says, in a muted much tamer Ramya manner, un style innum maaralai). If only Shivaji had noted the oonjal.
The second movie needs no introduction to any Sci-Fi movie fan. The inimitable Spielberg at his best (the problem with Spielberg is he surpasses himself with every movie he makes - proof: Terminal) with an insanely clever plot in Minority Report. The premise of Pre-cognizance and Pre-crime, is scientfically and morally disturbing and the deft handling of the screenplay (with not one slack moment) rivetted you to the couch (even if your Microwave beeped a million times to remind the food was cooked and your stomach growled in hunger in a synchronous orchestra of sorts). Throw in some religion, politics and philosophy (fatalism, cause and effect, etc. etc) and Voila, you have a Spielberg classic. The greatest feat of 'Minority report' was that it remained HUMAN at its core.
Spielberg's WAR OF THE WORLDS is releasing this week and boy! am I excited. There was a preview of WOTW yesternight and Spielberg talked about how H.G.Wells wrote the original WOTW as a critique on the colonisation policy of Britain (after he witnessed the treatment of Aborigines in Tasmania-Australia). He wanted to point out that strength is relative and wrote the invasion of the world by Martians as a warning to the British empire.
Spielberg, casually remarked how the movie was in a way appropriate at this time, due to the recent Imperialistic policy of America; of the past five years as he euphemistically put (please note: no mention of GW Bush - but it quite can't be mistaken for someone else, can it?)
Veerapandiya Kattabomman or Minority Report, a good movie is all that makes weekends weekends. Right???
Friday, June 24, 2005
Mayakkam thantha Tamizh, Amudhu, Kavi
All around the blog world, people tag each other; to know their fellow-bloggers' interests, favourites - in books, songs, movies, and what not. I am still new to the blog world and haven't 'taggers' and so I decided to tag myself (How sick can one get!!!).
And the first instalment - SONGS, the ones with wordings that even I, with my notorious memory (see I am named RAM - I have volatile, strictly short-term memory only) can remember.
1. Paarthaley Paravasam – Sugama
Sirumai kandu thaviththen , en siragil onrai muriththen
Orrai siragil oonapparavai ethanai dhooram parappen
Truly, there cannot be a better way of expressing this particular situation – of an estrangement caused by unfaithfulness
2. Sethu – Vaarthai Thavarivittal
Boomiyin thevathai puzhuthi mann moodalamo
Made one feel as if the whole world was at its end – what powerful words. If it didn’t melt a heart, it was no heart.
3. Duet – En Kadhale
Amudhenbatha, Vishamenbatha, Idhu Amudhavisham enbatha
A perfect question about love. Is it good at all? Is my lover my greatest strength or my greatest weakness?
4. Five Star – Enkirundhu Vandhayada
Oruvar vaazhum ulagil mounam thane paechu…
Vizhakalil ival thaniththu nirkiral, Kanakkalil thinam vizhiththirukkiral
Brings the essence of a forlorn heart – totally alone even in the midst of a crowd
5. Vaanam Vasapadume – Uyire Uyire
Marumurai en thaayin karuvaraikkulle naan irupathu pol ennam varugiradhe
The joy and security of being in love
6. Uyire – Nenjinile
Vaanila naanume mugil eduthu kanmoodume
Though, Vairamuthu had recycled his earlier works in this song, the ‘intimacy’ of the song was enchanting
7. Bombay – Alla Gulla
Kaanaththane kangal, kaneer sindha illai…
…Vaazhathane Vaazhkai, Veezhvatharkku illai,
Vellaththane Veeram, Kollvatharkku Illai
Simple verse, elegant meaning
8. Alaipayuthey – Snehithane
Nee azhumpodhu naan azha naerndhal, thudaikkinra viral vendum
The concept of "Rahasiya Snehithane" itself was endearing and this line was my only solace during a period when I couldn't cry.
Shouldn't just say that only thoughtfully written, 'pregnant' with meaning lyrics were unforgettable. Some silly ones too were for their frivolity linger in my RAM. For instance -
9. Kaadhalan – Kaathalikkum pennin
Sinthum vervai theertham aagum, Chinna paarvai mokshamagum
10. Boys – Girlfriend
hach enral kerchief neetta, icch enral idam kannam kaata
11. Mudhalavan - Shakalaka Baby
iyantharathu kadaikuttiyaa... nee meesai vaitha chedi kodi yaa; ki.mu vil piranthavanaa
p.s. I would do great injustice if I fail to mention Kaviarasu Kannadhasan here. Lets just say that, to keep the blog within reasonable length I have considered Post Kannadhasan era only (We have a scarcity of good ones in the PK era where one needs to jog his memory to find a poignant song).
I acknowledge his genius and my respect for his works is boundless.
And the first instalment - SONGS, the ones with wordings that even I, with my notorious memory (see I am named RAM - I have volatile, strictly short-term memory only) can remember.
1. Paarthaley Paravasam – Sugama
Sirumai kandu thaviththen , en siragil onrai muriththen
Orrai siragil oonapparavai ethanai dhooram parappen
Truly, there cannot be a better way of expressing this particular situation – of an estrangement caused by unfaithfulness
2. Sethu – Vaarthai Thavarivittal
Boomiyin thevathai puzhuthi mann moodalamo
Made one feel as if the whole world was at its end – what powerful words. If it didn’t melt a heart, it was no heart.
3. Duet – En Kadhale
Amudhenbatha, Vishamenbatha, Idhu Amudhavisham enbatha
A perfect question about love. Is it good at all? Is my lover my greatest strength or my greatest weakness?
4. Five Star – Enkirundhu Vandhayada
Oruvar vaazhum ulagil mounam thane paechu…
Vizhakalil ival thaniththu nirkiral, Kanakkalil thinam vizhiththirukkiral
Brings the essence of a forlorn heart – totally alone even in the midst of a crowd
5. Vaanam Vasapadume – Uyire Uyire
Marumurai en thaayin karuvaraikkulle naan irupathu pol ennam varugiradhe
The joy and security of being in love
6. Uyire – Nenjinile
Vaanila naanume mugil eduthu kanmoodume
Though, Vairamuthu had recycled his earlier works in this song, the ‘intimacy’ of the song was enchanting
7. Bombay – Alla Gulla
Kaanaththane kangal, kaneer sindha illai…
…Vaazhathane Vaazhkai, Veezhvatharkku illai,
Vellaththane Veeram, Kollvatharkku Illai
Simple verse, elegant meaning
8. Alaipayuthey – Snehithane
Nee azhumpodhu naan azha naerndhal, thudaikkinra viral vendum
The concept of "Rahasiya Snehithane" itself was endearing and this line was my only solace during a period when I couldn't cry.
********
Shouldn't just say that only thoughtfully written, 'pregnant' with meaning lyrics were unforgettable. Some silly ones too were for their frivolity linger in my RAM. For instance -
9. Kaadhalan – Kaathalikkum pennin
Sinthum vervai theertham aagum, Chinna paarvai mokshamagum
10. Boys – Girlfriend
hach enral kerchief neetta, icch enral idam kannam kaata
11. Mudhalavan - Shakalaka Baby
iyantharathu kadaikuttiyaa... nee meesai vaitha chedi kodi yaa; ki.mu vil piranthavanaa
p.s. I would do great injustice if I fail to mention Kaviarasu Kannadhasan here. Lets just say that, to keep the blog within reasonable length I have considered Post Kannadhasan era only (We have a scarcity of good ones in the PK era where one needs to jog his memory to find a poignant song).
I acknowledge his genius and my respect for his works is boundless.
Wednesday, June 22, 2005
Love - the eternal question Part 2
Read Part 1
Shashi commented on it and this is my response. It just got so long, that I ended up making a post of it.
As I had mentioned, the observations may not be accurate, but thats the way Sudhish looks at it and I agree, with at least the majority of his reflections.
I can't see how ego will determine the will. When you resolve to do something, you do it - that is will. Of course, I do admit that despite your strong will things could go wrong and Ego can play a part in it.
Physics has a brilliant explanation for this (Three Cheers to Physicists, who believe that all universe is controlled by the Laws of Physics).
Marriage is like a body with multiple forces (all vectors) and moments acting on it. Will is a positive force, Ego is a negative force. You do not say Will is caused by Ego or Ego by Will. They are both forces, though with different direction vectors.
If ego is stronger than will (of higher magnitude), the resultant vector moves the body in the -ve dir. As simple as that. But remember the number of forces (parameters) are umpteen. And all the forces have an effect on the outcome, positive or negative. The outcome is decided by the overall effect, say (Sum of all Positive forces - Sum of all Negative forces). And most forces are not entirely positive or entirely negative. So, you have to take Cos and Sine of the force in the +&- directions.
Analyse this situation or any for that matter, and you would conclude that every cause has an effect and every effect should have a cause.
Hence proved.
Shashi commented on it and this is my response. It just got so long, that I ended up making a post of it.
As I had mentioned, the observations may not be accurate, but thats the way Sudhish looks at it and I agree, with at least the majority of his reflections.
I can't see how ego will determine the will. When you resolve to do something, you do it - that is will. Of course, I do admit that despite your strong will things could go wrong and Ego can play a part in it.
Physics has a brilliant explanation for this (Three Cheers to Physicists, who believe that all universe is controlled by the Laws of Physics).
Marriage is like a body with multiple forces (all vectors) and moments acting on it. Will is a positive force, Ego is a negative force. You do not say Will is caused by Ego or Ego by Will. They are both forces, though with different direction vectors.
If ego is stronger than will (of higher magnitude), the resultant vector moves the body in the -ve dir. As simple as that. But remember the number of forces (parameters) are umpteen. And all the forces have an effect on the outcome, positive or negative. The outcome is decided by the overall effect, say (Sum of all Positive forces - Sum of all Negative forces). And most forces are not entirely positive or entirely negative. So, you have to take Cos and Sine of the force in the +&- directions.
Analyse this situation or any for that matter, and you would conclude that every cause has an effect and every effect should have a cause.
Hence proved.
Tuesday, June 21, 2005
Naan Madras Suththi saapida Poren
Hurray People! I am coming to Madras (why is "Chennai" so difficult to say).
A month back, I was reluctant to get my tickets to India - buying them for October or November would seal the issue: I could not go any earlier. The 'fantasy' that I could go sooner would collapse; castles cave in. But the wait was enough. Accepted that my fantasy wasn't rational, sigh!!! Decided that I'll take my break (I am eligible for 20 days vacation per year... only 20 days. Grrr. Is there any Human Rights Actvist reading this) in October so I can spend the Navarathri - Deepavali period home. Informed my supervisor and received his blessings (a major achievement). Excitement overwhelmed me as tickets were blocked for October 7th and it wasn't curbed by the airfare the Travel agent quoted- $1200 for return...hmmm good price - steal deal.
The wheels have been set in motion. A shopping schedule has been planned (to coincide with my scholarship) and prices, deals, shops, etc. for gifts are being thoroughly researched. The Travel Agent has been reminded to get me "Asian Vegetarian" meals on board. Mails have been despatched to all the near and dear about the trip (and many of the N&D haven't responded yet...grrrrrr). Last year, Deepavali was a major dud, a disaster. I had exam the next morning. Plans are also being hatched for this Deepavali in Chennai :). With ear-splitting 1000-walas and soaring rockets.
I am so looking forward to the trip. After being in exile for a year and a half, I am returning to Chennai (for a short-holiday only :(( ). Come October and I'll be sailing through the pot-holed Madras roads, eating Sambhar Vadai and Masala Dosai in Saravana Bhavan, guggling Filter Coffee (besh! besh! Coffee na filter coffee thaan), stuffing myself with home-made Vengaya Veththa Kuzhambu and Urulai Fry, visiting the Marina - just to eat Samosas, Bhel Puri or Pav Bhaji, and eat and drink the numerous things (Shri Krishna sweets Mysurpa, Mithai Shoppe Kaju Khatli, Venkateswara Boli Stall Thattai, ad infinitum) that I have missed the last eighteen months. Will also be visiting the numerous Periappas, Athais and cousins and sure to be welcomed like a war-hero and fed like a bull, watsay???
Readers are bound to think of me as "Saapaatu Rama" but truly Chennai isn't Chennai without its mouth-watering, levitating, stirring-the-senses food. Yes, people. FOOD.
Readers are also bound to remind me that October is a long way away. But let me tell something to you... SCREW YOU!
A month back, I was reluctant to get my tickets to India - buying them for October or November would seal the issue: I could not go any earlier. The 'fantasy' that I could go sooner would collapse; castles cave in. But the wait was enough. Accepted that my fantasy wasn't rational, sigh!!! Decided that I'll take my break (I am eligible for 20 days vacation per year... only 20 days. Grrr. Is there any Human Rights Actvist reading this) in October so I can spend the Navarathri - Deepavali period home. Informed my supervisor and received his blessings (a major achievement). Excitement overwhelmed me as tickets were blocked for October 7th and it wasn't curbed by the airfare the Travel agent quoted- $1200 for return...hmmm good price - steal deal.
The wheels have been set in motion. A shopping schedule has been planned (to coincide with my scholarship) and prices, deals, shops, etc. for gifts are being thoroughly researched. The Travel Agent has been reminded to get me "Asian Vegetarian" meals on board. Mails have been despatched to all the near and dear about the trip (and many of the N&D haven't responded yet...grrrrrr). Last year, Deepavali was a major dud, a disaster. I had exam the next morning. Plans are also being hatched for this Deepavali in Chennai :). With ear-splitting 1000-walas and soaring rockets.
I am so looking forward to the trip. After being in exile for a year and a half, I am returning to Chennai (for a short-holiday only :(( ). Come October and I'll be sailing through the pot-holed Madras roads, eating Sambhar Vadai and Masala Dosai in Saravana Bhavan, guggling Filter Coffee (besh! besh! Coffee na filter coffee thaan), stuffing myself with home-made Vengaya Veththa Kuzhambu and Urulai Fry, visiting the Marina - just to eat Samosas, Bhel Puri or Pav Bhaji, and eat and drink the numerous things (Shri Krishna sweets Mysurpa, Mithai Shoppe Kaju Khatli, Venkateswara Boli Stall Thattai, ad infinitum) that I have missed the last eighteen months. Will also be visiting the numerous Periappas, Athais and cousins and sure to be welcomed like a war-hero and fed like a bull, watsay???
Readers are bound to think of me as "Saapaatu Rama" but truly Chennai isn't Chennai without its mouth-watering, levitating, stirring-the-senses food. Yes, people. FOOD.
Readers are also bound to remind me that October is a long way away. But let me tell something to you... SCREW YOU!
Monday, June 20, 2005
Love - the eternal question
Love...it happens to most of us during the course of our existence. Different people call it by different names. When boy meets girl, there are quite a few things that can happen. It is tough to label and bracket them with strict definitions, but here's an attempt...
Lust: When your BODY says go for it, just do it and nothing else matters.In some parts of the world, this phenomenon is also called Love at first sight... he hehehe!
Infatuation: When your HEART says go for it but MIND says otherwise.
Platonic: When your SOUL falls for it, but BODY plays spoilsport.(I remember a definition of platonic that goes: the interval between the first meeting and the first kiss)
Arranged relationship (the arranged marriage phenomenon): When your MIND says you can make it work, it's just perfect and this is the person!
Love: When your HEART, MIND, BODY and SOUL realises and agrees that you are happy just being with this person!
Crush: When something about the person appeals to either your HEART, MIND, BODY or SOUL but you don't want to do anything about it.
But again, these definitions are just words...
As we grow older, we start adding criteria to our love with the pretext of maturity. We give it names and definitions as I have just done.
But truly, at the end of the day it's just about time and space. The more time and space you spend with one person, the more likely that you are going to be attached to them and at some point, even fall in love. It's very scientific at some level. Which is why arranged marriages in India WORK. Two people who spend a lot of time and space together, discover each other and learn to live unconditionally, in spite of what the other person actually is. Even if he/she is ugly, fat, lazy, stupid, evil, loathsome or diametrically opposite to what you really wanted.
It is the will that matters. The resolve. Determination. Add Understanding each other to that and any two people in this world can live with each other.
Love is that unconditional 'being-there-for-the-other' element which keeps people together. Which is why best friends make great life partners and great life partners make best friends.
I wudn't say this is a totally accurate observation... but yeah, this is wat Sudhish thinks! And he should know!
Lust: When your BODY says go for it, just do it and nothing else matters.In some parts of the world, this phenomenon is also called Love at first sight... he hehehe!
Infatuation: When your HEART says go for it but MIND says otherwise.
Platonic: When your SOUL falls for it, but BODY plays spoilsport.(I remember a definition of platonic that goes: the interval between the first meeting and the first kiss)
Arranged relationship (the arranged marriage phenomenon): When your MIND says you can make it work, it's just perfect and this is the person!
Love: When your HEART, MIND, BODY and SOUL realises and agrees that you are happy just being with this person!
Crush: When something about the person appeals to either your HEART, MIND, BODY or SOUL but you don't want to do anything about it.
But again, these definitions are just words...
As we grow older, we start adding criteria to our love with the pretext of maturity. We give it names and definitions as I have just done.
But truly, at the end of the day it's just about time and space. The more time and space you spend with one person, the more likely that you are going to be attached to them and at some point, even fall in love. It's very scientific at some level. Which is why arranged marriages in India WORK. Two people who spend a lot of time and space together, discover each other and learn to live unconditionally, in spite of what the other person actually is. Even if he/she is ugly, fat, lazy, stupid, evil, loathsome or diametrically opposite to what you really wanted.
It is the will that matters. The resolve. Determination. Add Understanding each other to that and any two people in this world can live with each other.
Love is that unconditional 'being-there-for-the-other' element which keeps people together. Which is why best friends make great life partners and great life partners make best friends.
I wudn't say this is a totally accurate observation... but yeah, this is wat Sudhish thinks! And he should know!
A weekend to remember
Danielle, my neighbour at the Hall (hostel) I lived in last year was finishing her course and leaving on Saturday for Florida. So we were meeting for a drink on Friday evening. We met at a small Bar near the university and there were heaps of other friends, coursemates who had also come to bid her farewell. Nothing special happened (there was no drunk fist fighting or tongue-sucking in the nearby tables). I had"Sweet Cider" for the first time and unlike beer this was sweet (sweet cider will be sweet, right? grin...)and was palatable.
Then we went to the Hall where some other person (whom I didn't know) was having a farewell party in the Senior Common Room(But that doesn't matter, does it?). Made friends with friends of Danielle and shouted at the top of my voice in order to be heard in the ear-drum shattering loud music. The highlight of the party was that i saw the "Most" beautiful girl I have ever seen in my life. She was like a sculpture of gold come alive. I would do no justice to her beauty by even attempting to describe it. There is nothing in this world that could be compared to her beauty. Not the moon, not the lotus in bloom, not the peacock. Nothing. It was matchless.
Of course I felt a creature as heavenly as she would have nothing to do with me and stood at a reverential distance, gaped at her and made no effort to introduce myself or strike conversation.
This would have gone on with no end had we not have to leave. We left at 1:30 in the night and we were actually one of the early leavers.
Saturday, as expected didn't wake up until 10 in the morn and even then spent a lazy morning. Cooked Vengaya Sambhar after a very very long time. It became too watery but tasted alright.
After working for a couple of hours on my research (where nothing much was accomplished) went to a friend's place and the whole lot of us went to "Madagascar" - an animated movie, from the makers of Shrek.
In spite of the occasional ridicule from family and friends about watching Animated "Kids" movies and how I need to grow-up, I would settle for a "Madagascar" to a, say "Mr.&Mrs.Smith" any day of the week. I could go on and give a lengthy review, but let me just say the movie was really good. Ben Stiller and Chris Rock as voices of the lead characters were rib-tickling funny and Hans Zimmer's music was brilliant. Undiluted, immaculate entertainment. For all.
Spent two hours savouring the atmosphere there and then left for Liverpool, a suburb of Sydney, where every other shop was either Indian groceries or an Indian restaurant. I did not feel like I was in Australia at all. Didn't even see one Caucasian there. Heaps n heaps of Indians everywhich side you turn.
We shopped for a while (which was like three hours and three hundred dollars - all thanks to one of the women in our entourage). Had dinner at Woodlands - South Indian Vegetarian Restaurant, with Kaapi in 'Dabara Tumbler' and water in eversilver glass. I had a thali - sambhar, rasam, appalam, getti thayir, oorugai, paayasam, urulai poriyal, keerai, rice and poori. Yummy!
Frankly, the food wasn't anything to write home about, but the fact that I was eating in a restaurant that reminds me of eating, lets say Ramanathapuram, makes it very special. Oh! the fate of people living far from home.
We were a group of 15, with four very small kids who made such a racket (and mess) that I am confident the hotel would never entertain us, if we were to return there. The kids were irrepressible and were getting on to my nerves but more on this later.
I reached home by 11:30 in the night totally spent. Phew! What a weekend.
Then we went to the Hall where some other person (whom I didn't know) was having a farewell party in the Senior Common Room(But that doesn't matter, does it?). Made friends with friends of Danielle and shouted at the top of my voice in order to be heard in the ear-drum shattering loud music. The highlight of the party was that i saw the "Most" beautiful girl I have ever seen in my life. She was like a sculpture of gold come alive. I would do no justice to her beauty by even attempting to describe it. There is nothing in this world that could be compared to her beauty. Not the moon, not the lotus in bloom, not the peacock. Nothing. It was matchless.
Of course I felt a creature as heavenly as she would have nothing to do with me and stood at a reverential distance, gaped at her and made no effort to introduce myself or strike conversation.
This would have gone on with no end had we not have to leave. We left at 1:30 in the night and we were actually one of the early leavers.
********
Saturday, as expected didn't wake up until 10 in the morn and even then spent a lazy morning. Cooked Vengaya Sambhar after a very very long time. It became too watery but tasted alright.
After working for a couple of hours on my research (where nothing much was accomplished) went to a friend's place and the whole lot of us went to "Madagascar" - an animated movie, from the makers of Shrek.
In spite of the occasional ridicule from family and friends about watching Animated "Kids" movies and how I need to grow-up, I would settle for a "Madagascar" to a, say "Mr.&Mrs.Smith" any day of the week. I could go on and give a lengthy review, but let me just say the movie was really good. Ben Stiller and Chris Rock as voices of the lead characters were rib-tickling funny and Hans Zimmer's music was brilliant. Undiluted, immaculate entertainment. For all.
********
Sunday, was supposed to leave for Helensburg temple (outskirts of Sydney) early in the morning which ended up being 10 AM. Not my fault. I woke up at 6:30 and was ready by 7. Anywayz, we drove in a friend's Honda CR-V while a Toyota Avalon and a Toyota Camry (Why is it Indians always buy Toyotas or Hondas) followed us (more friends). We made a nice motorcade and reached Helensburg before 1. Had a splendid darshan of Chandramouleeswarar, Thirupurasundari and Valli,Devayanai samedha Shri Subramania Swamy. Also Prasanna Venkateshwarar (Thats the Saivite in me speaking).Spent two hours savouring the atmosphere there and then left for Liverpool, a suburb of Sydney, where every other shop was either Indian groceries or an Indian restaurant. I did not feel like I was in Australia at all. Didn't even see one Caucasian there. Heaps n heaps of Indians everywhich side you turn.
We shopped for a while (which was like three hours and three hundred dollars - all thanks to one of the women in our entourage). Had dinner at Woodlands - South Indian Vegetarian Restaurant, with Kaapi in 'Dabara Tumbler' and water in eversilver glass. I had a thali - sambhar, rasam, appalam, getti thayir, oorugai, paayasam, urulai poriyal, keerai, rice and poori. Yummy!
Frankly, the food wasn't anything to write home about, but the fact that I was eating in a restaurant that reminds me of eating, lets say Ramanathapuram, makes it very special. Oh! the fate of people living far from home.
We were a group of 15, with four very small kids who made such a racket (and mess) that I am confident the hotel would never entertain us, if we were to return there. The kids were irrepressible and were getting on to my nerves but more on this later.
I reached home by 11:30 in the night totally spent. Phew! What a weekend.
Thursday, June 16, 2005
Un-fate-ful
I have no grievances with fate and he has taken care of me quite well throughout. But then, what is life without some cribbing.
The Thursday last, there was a Dinner organised at the Australian Academy of Science (AAS) - an opportunity to meet graduate students from the US and to discuss possibilities, research and otherwise. This was especially important because of the 'Free food', something that graduate students cannot do without and famously illustrated by Mike Slackerney of Stanford's strip - PhD comics. There was also this likelihood of meeting some hawt chick - not technically meeting, lets just say ogling at from the corner of the gathering. Anywayz, this made it a must-not-miss event.
That is when Mr.Fate intervened and deemed otherwise.
I had French class on the very evening for the very duration of the AAS dinner and I could not afford to miss it (in addition to the lofty fees I was paying, we were deciding the location for the next class - a class with 'French dinner' and I couldn't just not be there).
Horns of a dilemma if I have ever seen one. If I do attend the class, I will miss the dinner at AAS and if I didn't, I would miss the dinner next week.
Against better judgement, I decided to attend the class. Told myself that AAS was just pizza and it wasn't even sure if they would provide Vegetarian ones. Also, my friends (who did not have any French class and the total support of Mr.Fate) were attending the event and I had impelled them to get some slices of Pizza 'parceled' for me. (They can be very persuasive and deep down I believed they would convince the organisers and get me Pizza).
As I had already RSVPed to the organisers, my beloved persuasive friends decided to recruit one of my other colleagues to take my place and present himself as Mr.Karthik Ram (decided without even telling me, grrrrr).
They arrived on time (15 minutes late and there would be not one tiny slice of pizza left - what with a hall full of scheming graduate students) and made small talk over pizza. Like- "Is Dominos better than Pizza Hut?", "Do you think Hawaiian is better than Pepperoni?", intricacies of Stuffed crust, flavour and brand of instant noodles consumed, etc. etc. You get the idea, right?
This is when Mr.Fate decided to get nasty. A steaming 'hawt' American chick emerged on the scene transforming the bunch of gossiping geeks to ogling, drooling machines. And what should Mr.Fate do but take her right to the middle of my flock and the new Mr.Karthik Ram there managed to introduce himself and make some conversation. The chick did fly around, making others stutter and stammer on the way and deriving much glee from the process.
Anywayz, Mr.Fate, it seems was hell bent on making me repent not attending the event. He conspired thus by making the new Mr.KR hit on that hottie. Grad students, as a rule are very strong-headed and can never take 'no' for an answer. So began a game of cat and mouse. And Mr.KR and an entire entourage of my beloved friends decided that they had to do something and induced all attendees to party at a nearby pub and continue the small talk.
Right then, I had reached home after finishing my class and after waiting in vain for the pizza, cooked some Semiya Uppuma to appease my growling stomach. Wondering whatever happened to my flat-mate (who is a part of the 'beloved persuasive'), I watched TV until drowsiness overpowered me and hit the sack at about 10.
While at the pub, my Alter Ego was making much progress with the hottie, who was now called the Intelligent, beautiful woman from the States. He induced her to a dance- for a Gwen Stefani number. He also managed to extract a telephone number. A remarkable achievement with a lot of future scope.
This was getting too much and I would be hurling abuses at Mr.Fate if he had not realised that things had gone far enough and ended the night there. It was past 2; the Mr.KR was dependant on friends to get home (he had no car)and the last of his friends was leaving.
I would still be accusing Mr.Fate for spoiling a good evening (and for the lost possibility of flirting with a gorgeous dame) had he not in an effort at reconcilation, made sure that the impostor KR had a piece of hell. The friday night, when he called the dame, to ask her out for dinner and disco, he heard "The phone number you have dialled does not exist" in a lovely automated tone.
Thats when I knew Mr.Fate is my mate. Always.
The Thursday last, there was a Dinner organised at the Australian Academy of Science (AAS) - an opportunity to meet graduate students from the US and to discuss possibilities, research and otherwise. This was especially important because of the 'Free food', something that graduate students cannot do without and famously illustrated by Mike Slackerney of Stanford's strip - PhD comics. There was also this likelihood of meeting some hawt chick - not technically meeting, lets just say ogling at from the corner of the gathering. Anywayz, this made it a must-not-miss event.
That is when Mr.Fate intervened and deemed otherwise.
I had French class on the very evening for the very duration of the AAS dinner and I could not afford to miss it (in addition to the lofty fees I was paying, we were deciding the location for the next class - a class with 'French dinner' and I couldn't just not be there).
Horns of a dilemma if I have ever seen one. If I do attend the class, I will miss the dinner at AAS and if I didn't, I would miss the dinner next week.
Against better judgement, I decided to attend the class. Told myself that AAS was just pizza and it wasn't even sure if they would provide Vegetarian ones. Also, my friends (who did not have any French class and the total support of Mr.Fate) were attending the event and I had impelled them to get some slices of Pizza 'parceled' for me. (They can be very persuasive and deep down I believed they would convince the organisers and get me Pizza).
As I had already RSVPed to the organisers, my beloved persuasive friends decided to recruit one of my other colleagues to take my place and present himself as Mr.Karthik Ram (decided without even telling me, grrrrr).
They arrived on time (15 minutes late and there would be not one tiny slice of pizza left - what with a hall full of scheming graduate students) and made small talk over pizza. Like- "Is Dominos better than Pizza Hut?", "Do you think Hawaiian is better than Pepperoni?", intricacies of Stuffed crust, flavour and brand of instant noodles consumed, etc. etc. You get the idea, right?
This is when Mr.Fate decided to get nasty. A steaming 'hawt' American chick emerged on the scene transforming the bunch of gossiping geeks to ogling, drooling machines. And what should Mr.Fate do but take her right to the middle of my flock and the new Mr.Karthik Ram there managed to introduce himself and make some conversation. The chick did fly around, making others stutter and stammer on the way and deriving much glee from the process.
Anywayz, Mr.Fate, it seems was hell bent on making me repent not attending the event. He conspired thus by making the new Mr.KR hit on that hottie. Grad students, as a rule are very strong-headed and can never take 'no' for an answer. So began a game of cat and mouse. And Mr.KR and an entire entourage of my beloved friends decided that they had to do something and induced all attendees to party at a nearby pub and continue the small talk.
Right then, I had reached home after finishing my class and after waiting in vain for the pizza, cooked some Semiya Uppuma to appease my growling stomach. Wondering whatever happened to my flat-mate (who is a part of the 'beloved persuasive'), I watched TV until drowsiness overpowered me and hit the sack at about 10.
While at the pub, my Alter Ego was making much progress with the hottie, who was now called the Intelligent, beautiful woman from the States. He induced her to a dance- for a Gwen Stefani number. He also managed to extract a telephone number. A remarkable achievement with a lot of future scope.
This was getting too much and I would be hurling abuses at Mr.Fate if he had not realised that things had gone far enough and ended the night there. It was past 2; the Mr.KR was dependant on friends to get home (he had no car)and the last of his friends was leaving.
I would still be accusing Mr.Fate for spoiling a good evening (and for the lost possibility of flirting with a gorgeous dame) had he not in an effort at reconcilation, made sure that the impostor KR had a piece of hell. The friday night, when he called the dame, to ask her out for dinner and disco, he heard "The phone number you have dialled does not exist" in a lovely automated tone.
Thats when I knew Mr.Fate is my mate. Always.
Autumn at its colourful best
Canberra boasts of distinct seasons with each season having its own beauty and charm. May I add, unlike Chennai with its fixed, Hot, Hotter, Hottest and Wet seasons - with the wet less pronounced of late. (I can hear the growls of all Chennaiites! Let me appease you saying that seasons or no seasons, there is no place like Chennai...hhheeehhhee!)
Come Autumn and trees suddenly become inspired (inspiring us on the way) and shed their verdancy for more bold colours. Parks become carpeted - yellow, brown and green in a golden weave. Even red and orange. The rustle of leaves and the crunch of footsteps become music. The sun, peeping through dark grey cumulus on a lazy morning, well! That is magic. Truly, we begin to doubt if the leaves have transformed themselves to flowers, what with their brilliant hues.
I, for one am totally in love with Autumn.
Come Autumn and trees suddenly become inspired (inspiring us on the way) and shed their verdancy for more bold colours. Parks become carpeted - yellow, brown and green in a golden weave. Even red and orange. The rustle of leaves and the crunch of footsteps become music. The sun, peeping through dark grey cumulus on a lazy morning, well! That is magic. Truly, we begin to doubt if the leaves have transformed themselves to flowers, what with their brilliant hues.
I, for one am totally in love with Autumn.
This one is right outside my door. If only it could be described.
Monday, June 13, 2005
Kalki possessed me!
A continuation of my post Kalki rises again
I recently discovered Kalki's works in Tamizh on the web and quite like Pavithra's translation, it has kept me mesmerised. This is the third or fourth time I am reading Sivagamiyin Sabadham and it gives me indescribable pleasure to read it in Tamizh in a place far far from the Tamizh speaking populace (all thanks to web).
Its like watching a Rajni movie with bits of papers flying, the front two rows dancing, loud calls of 'thalaiva', incessant whistling et al, just like back home, in a foreign country. Maybe it is just nostalgia, but I would hate to put it in one word.
I was thoroughly impressed by Pavithra's glorious re-telling and felt an urge to try translating. I knew for sure it wasn't going to be easy... but I just had to try. And I did.
It was the long weekend but I wasn't going anywhere, was reading a boring book and didn't watch any 'Indian' movies as I usually do. Needed a creative outlet for my restlessness. Spent a couple of hours on the computer and Voila... my first translation. Perhaps my only one. Believe me, it was tough and more importantly 'time consuming'. I doubt if my endeavour matches up to Pavithra's but it gave me immense satisfaction.
Sivagami hardly caught a wink of sleep that night. She kept contemplating on the wisdom of Gundodharan’s speech. She felt ashamed that she had fully believed Naganandhi's slandering of Kumara Chakravarthy. Her bosom heaved with anger. She badly wanted to quiz Naganandhi Adigal on his baseless allegations and a desire to scorn him suffused her heart.
Amid such ruminations, the thought that she had disobeyed Mamallar’s desire, an order unto her and left the forest cottage caused unending anxiety. Would he be angry, she wondered. Sivagami assured herself that Mamallar would consider it no grave error and that he would readily forgive her. A million thoughts flashed thus but owing to her surmounting weariness, she succumbed to the lure of sleep and nodded off.
Hardly had she dozed; when a great commotion broke out, with a loud shriek jolting her out of her slumber. It took Sivagami a minute to realise that it was Gundodharan who was howling. And then she heard the sound of hooves, of someone rushing away in a horse.
Sivagami woke up Aayanar, who was happily snoring oblivious to the hullabaloo. The two anxious people went outside to investigate and found Gundodharan still hollering. He, on seeing his master cried out, “Oh! My master! The Bikshu has stolen my horse”
Aayanar tried consoling him. “The horse wasn’t yours in the first place, my son!”, he said.
Gundodharan, still in a frenzy, shrieked, “Right! Naganandhi did steal my horse, Why did he have to also throw a deadly snake at me?”
Aayanar was piqued and demanded, “What did happen?” for which Gundodharan replied thus. The bikshu, stealthily strode to the entrance, unfettered the horse and mounted it. Gundodharan, who by chance had woken up that instant, ran towards the horse, holding it by its reins. The Bikshu, then threw something at him from a bag that he carried. When, Gundodharan realised that the something was a venomous cobra, he let out a shriek and jumped away, giving way for the Bikshu to ride away.
Gundodharan’s narrative did not convince either Aayanar or Sivagami. They thought that he must have had a nightmare and was blabbering.
Gundodharan, however proclaimed, “Master, I cannot stay away from my beloved horse. I shall somehow redeem it” and darted in the direction the rider had left in.
Five days passed since Aayanar and Sivagami arrived at the Viharam of Ashokapuram and for the first three days no distinct event happened. Sivagami had a hard time trying to while time. Aayanar had a tougher time. But they had made this journey with the Bikshu and he couldn’t even decide where to proceed without the Bikshu’s consul. The news Gundodharan had shared with them, made Sivagami lose all interest in journeying any further. The thought, “Why not just return to Kanchi?” kept lingering in her mind.
On the fourth night since they arrived in Ashokapuram some astonishing events happened. As dusk approached, what appeared to be incessant thunder resonated far far away in the horizon. On closer scrutiny, the drone seemed to become louder and soon it sounded like an ocean in rage. It felt like the ocean, once far was soon approaching closer to them. Suddenly the noise increased and reverberated like the scampering of a thousand people
Aayanar and Sivagami rushed to the entrance to investigate what this was about. The Chidambaram road was visible through a gap in the trees and the sight of several people running chaotically became discernible. In the midst of the bedlam, a huge elephant with a richly adorned saddle could be seen walking hurriedly. Eight or so horsemen surrounded it. These men seemed to be armed with different weapons. People carrying the long flag staff were seen scurrying among the group. The flag was tattered badly. After that group, a steady traffic of people in groups of ten or fifty kept hurrying all night long through the road.
Sometimes, a few of them, Sivagami observed went around the Ashoka sthambam and took the road near the ruined Buddhist shrine.
Sivagami questioned he father on the strange scene and Aayanar explained, “Looks like there was a battle nearby, my child. And seems a party was defeated in the battle. Only losers run away like this”.
Sivagami at once pointed, “Father! The enemies must have been defeated. Those running away didn’t look like Pallava soldiers, did they?”
“What do we know, my child! Can hardly see in this darkness. Mamallar has lead the army and it is my desire and belief as well that victory is his”, replied Aayanar.
All the commotion ceased before daylight. By dawn there was no sound of hurrying footsteps or the general bedlam that prevailed during the night. Sivagami stood by the entrance surveying the road, hoping for someone to pass and she wanted to stop them and enquire about the events of yesternight. It must have been a jaamam since dawn when the silence was shattered and the hooves of rushing horses could be heard.
Soon the horses became visible and my God! How many horses were they! Ten, fifty, a hundred or perhaps thousand. Mounted on every horse was a soldier, armed with the sword and spear, seated with undiminished fervour. On a majestic black horse in the middle of the cavalry rode a soldier carrying the flag staff bearing the insignia of the bull. Sivagami’s heart leapt with elation. It was, as she had hoped, the enemies who were vanquished and she decided that the Pallava army was chasing the retreating forces of the foe.
Two riders on their horses followed by a speeding chariot appeared in sight, minutes after the cavalry unit passed. And wonder of wonders, the horses and the chariot turned off the road and approached the Ashoka Sthambam and the Buddha Viharam, where at the very moment Sivagami stood. Maybe they wanted to take a short cut through the Viharam and catch up with the cavalry.
Aah! Who rides the first horse? Did her eyes betray her? Sivagami’s heart almost stopped. Yes! It was Mamalla Narasimha Pallavar riding on it. Sivagami’s eyes, catching sight of her beloved on horseback all of a sudden, for no reason welled with tears. The emotions flooding her entire being and some indescribable coyness made her want to rush indoors and she set her foot to turn.
That very instant, the sound of a loud “Aaa” and the thud of halting horse could be heard. Sivagami turned her head back towards the road.
Mamallar’s piercing eyes sliced through Sivagami’s heart. That look expressed overwhelming surprise and joy, infinite love and anger.
The look lingered for no more than a moment and in a flash, the rider sped in his horse like the wind. Commander Paranjyothi, despite seeing Sivagami sped too, without stopping.
Realising that the chariot must be driven by Kannabiran, Sivagami stood by the pillars of the viharam and signalled the chariot to stop. Kannabiran, held his reins tight and skidded to a halt.
I recently discovered Kalki's works in Tamizh on the web and quite like Pavithra's translation, it has kept me mesmerised. This is the third or fourth time I am reading Sivagamiyin Sabadham and it gives me indescribable pleasure to read it in Tamizh in a place far far from the Tamizh speaking populace (all thanks to web).
Its like watching a Rajni movie with bits of papers flying, the front two rows dancing, loud calls of 'thalaiva', incessant whistling et al, just like back home, in a foreign country. Maybe it is just nostalgia, but I would hate to put it in one word.
I was thoroughly impressed by Pavithra's glorious re-telling and felt an urge to try translating. I knew for sure it wasn't going to be easy... but I just had to try. And I did.
It was the long weekend but I wasn't going anywhere, was reading a boring book and didn't watch any 'Indian' movies as I usually do. Needed a creative outlet for my restlessness. Spent a couple of hours on the computer and Voila... my first translation. Perhaps my only one. Believe me, it was tough and more importantly 'time consuming'. I doubt if my endeavour matches up to Pavithra's but it gave me immense satisfaction.
Chapter – 23
Who was defeated?
Who was defeated?
Sivagami hardly caught a wink of sleep that night. She kept contemplating on the wisdom of Gundodharan’s speech. She felt ashamed that she had fully believed Naganandhi's slandering of Kumara Chakravarthy. Her bosom heaved with anger. She badly wanted to quiz Naganandhi Adigal on his baseless allegations and a desire to scorn him suffused her heart.
Amid such ruminations, the thought that she had disobeyed Mamallar’s desire, an order unto her and left the forest cottage caused unending anxiety. Would he be angry, she wondered. Sivagami assured herself that Mamallar would consider it no grave error and that he would readily forgive her. A million thoughts flashed thus but owing to her surmounting weariness, she succumbed to the lure of sleep and nodded off.
Hardly had she dozed; when a great commotion broke out, with a loud shriek jolting her out of her slumber. It took Sivagami a minute to realise that it was Gundodharan who was howling. And then she heard the sound of hooves, of someone rushing away in a horse.
Sivagami woke up Aayanar, who was happily snoring oblivious to the hullabaloo. The two anxious people went outside to investigate and found Gundodharan still hollering. He, on seeing his master cried out, “Oh! My master! The Bikshu has stolen my horse”
Aayanar tried consoling him. “The horse wasn’t yours in the first place, my son!”, he said.
Gundodharan, still in a frenzy, shrieked, “Right! Naganandhi did steal my horse, Why did he have to also throw a deadly snake at me?”
Aayanar was piqued and demanded, “What did happen?” for which Gundodharan replied thus. The bikshu, stealthily strode to the entrance, unfettered the horse and mounted it. Gundodharan, who by chance had woken up that instant, ran towards the horse, holding it by its reins. The Bikshu, then threw something at him from a bag that he carried. When, Gundodharan realised that the something was a venomous cobra, he let out a shriek and jumped away, giving way for the Bikshu to ride away.
Gundodharan’s narrative did not convince either Aayanar or Sivagami. They thought that he must have had a nightmare and was blabbering.
Gundodharan, however proclaimed, “Master, I cannot stay away from my beloved horse. I shall somehow redeem it” and darted in the direction the rider had left in.
Five days passed since Aayanar and Sivagami arrived at the Viharam of Ashokapuram and for the first three days no distinct event happened. Sivagami had a hard time trying to while time. Aayanar had a tougher time. But they had made this journey with the Bikshu and he couldn’t even decide where to proceed without the Bikshu’s consul. The news Gundodharan had shared with them, made Sivagami lose all interest in journeying any further. The thought, “Why not just return to Kanchi?” kept lingering in her mind.
On the fourth night since they arrived in Ashokapuram some astonishing events happened. As dusk approached, what appeared to be incessant thunder resonated far far away in the horizon. On closer scrutiny, the drone seemed to become louder and soon it sounded like an ocean in rage. It felt like the ocean, once far was soon approaching closer to them. Suddenly the noise increased and reverberated like the scampering of a thousand people
Aayanar and Sivagami rushed to the entrance to investigate what this was about. The Chidambaram road was visible through a gap in the trees and the sight of several people running chaotically became discernible. In the midst of the bedlam, a huge elephant with a richly adorned saddle could be seen walking hurriedly. Eight or so horsemen surrounded it. These men seemed to be armed with different weapons. People carrying the long flag staff were seen scurrying among the group. The flag was tattered badly. After that group, a steady traffic of people in groups of ten or fifty kept hurrying all night long through the road.
Sometimes, a few of them, Sivagami observed went around the Ashoka sthambam and took the road near the ruined Buddhist shrine.
Sivagami questioned he father on the strange scene and Aayanar explained, “Looks like there was a battle nearby, my child. And seems a party was defeated in the battle. Only losers run away like this”.
Sivagami at once pointed, “Father! The enemies must have been defeated. Those running away didn’t look like Pallava soldiers, did they?”
“What do we know, my child! Can hardly see in this darkness. Mamallar has lead the army and it is my desire and belief as well that victory is his”, replied Aayanar.
All the commotion ceased before daylight. By dawn there was no sound of hurrying footsteps or the general bedlam that prevailed during the night. Sivagami stood by the entrance surveying the road, hoping for someone to pass and she wanted to stop them and enquire about the events of yesternight. It must have been a jaamam since dawn when the silence was shattered and the hooves of rushing horses could be heard.
Soon the horses became visible and my God! How many horses were they! Ten, fifty, a hundred or perhaps thousand. Mounted on every horse was a soldier, armed with the sword and spear, seated with undiminished fervour. On a majestic black horse in the middle of the cavalry rode a soldier carrying the flag staff bearing the insignia of the bull. Sivagami’s heart leapt with elation. It was, as she had hoped, the enemies who were vanquished and she decided that the Pallava army was chasing the retreating forces of the foe.
Two riders on their horses followed by a speeding chariot appeared in sight, minutes after the cavalry unit passed. And wonder of wonders, the horses and the chariot turned off the road and approached the Ashoka Sthambam and the Buddha Viharam, where at the very moment Sivagami stood. Maybe they wanted to take a short cut through the Viharam and catch up with the cavalry.
Aah! Who rides the first horse? Did her eyes betray her? Sivagami’s heart almost stopped. Yes! It was Mamalla Narasimha Pallavar riding on it. Sivagami’s eyes, catching sight of her beloved on horseback all of a sudden, for no reason welled with tears. The emotions flooding her entire being and some indescribable coyness made her want to rush indoors and she set her foot to turn.
That very instant, the sound of a loud “Aaa” and the thud of halting horse could be heard. Sivagami turned her head back towards the road.
Mamallar’s piercing eyes sliced through Sivagami’s heart. That look expressed overwhelming surprise and joy, infinite love and anger.
The look lingered for no more than a moment and in a flash, the rider sped in his horse like the wind. Commander Paranjyothi, despite seeing Sivagami sped too, without stopping.
Realising that the chariot must be driven by Kannabiran, Sivagami stood by the pillars of the viharam and signalled the chariot to stop. Kannabiran, held his reins tight and skidded to a halt.
Friday, June 10, 2005
Didn't mean to scare!
Honestly, I didn't want to scare anyone off with my plaints on supervisors. The meeting wasn't just flak and drab. He shared some jewels of wisdom with me. Like this one about Polo - the thing with the hole.
"Everything in the universe has holes. You think the table you lean on is solid. Look closer and closer and you will see holes in it. Look in with a microscope, you will find holes. At the molecular level, you will find more holes. Look in the atomic level, there are still holes. Ultimately everything has holes"
No it wasn't a commentary on the logic of my report - it was about the 'body of knowledge' which as research scholars we are supposed to fill the holes of.
And there was something else too. Something he said that just put a huge smile on my scarred face. "Have a great long weekend*"
* Monday is a holiday - Queen's birthday (More on it later)
p.s. If you are wondering how come I am blogging hard after a day like this, you have much to know about the resilience of us, PhD students.
"Everything in the universe has holes. You think the table you lean on is solid. Look closer and closer and you will see holes in it. Look in with a microscope, you will find holes. At the molecular level, you will find more holes. Look in the atomic level, there are still holes. Ultimately everything has holes"
No it wasn't a commentary on the logic of my report - it was about the 'body of knowledge' which as research scholars we are supposed to fill the holes of.
And there was something else too. Something he said that just put a huge smile on my scarred face. "Have a great long weekend*"
* Monday is a holiday - Queen's birthday (More on it later)
p.s. If you are wondering how come I am blogging hard after a day like this, you have much to know about the resilience of us, PhD students.
Marred by war
I am not a pleasant sight on any given day, but today I would jolt out of senses anyone who has the misfortune of seeing me. I am marred. As marred as you can get sitting in an academic's room.
I always knew that research was tough business. After all, haven't I seen my dad juggle his office work and research (received his PhD though). I carried no illusions about a bed of roses or anything. However, I seriously reconsidered my opinion on research scholars after starting my own in Australia.
My fellow Fennerites (last year) who were doing their PhDs were so totally 'hep'. Nano even had three ear-rings in one ear (and none in the other) and dyed his hair blue one week, pink the other and even orange once. And he was doing PhD in Computational Molecular Biology (or something that sounds like that). The typical image of a PhD scholar with thick glasses, dishevelled clothes, unkempt hair, the word 'GEEK' stuck on his back, talking to himself in Greek (equations) appeared ridiculous. PhD wasn't all too bad, was it? And so I took the plunge. And all was fine. Until...
Until I walked into my supervisor's room today for one of those 'Weekly review' meetings. Frankly I have nothing against supervisors or weekly meetings. God forbid, but if there were no supervisors or weekly meetings, no research would ever take place. I, like most PhD students would be content watching 'Everybody Loves Raymond', reading Dan Brown and blogging a dime to dozen about the quality of films in India or about the certifiably insane reality shows in Australia (I haven't written about it yet, have I? Hmmmm...juicy topic for next week). Weekly review meetings are the equivalent of caffein. Regular doses are obligatory to all researchers.
Anyway, I walked into my supervisor's room. The sky was blue, the air cool and I could see aircrafts taking off from the airport through his window. And more importantly I had done some work. I had three reports. Three very well written reports.
And then came the volley of questions, torrent of scathing remarks, bursts of discouraging divinations and the kind in such rapidity that Kalashnikov would have marvelled at this salvo. Oh! the irony of life. I am supposed to be doing my research on ballistic resistant polymers. But what can stop such fusillade.
My reports (yes, the same ones I just mentioned as 'very well written'), that I had spent all of the week working twelve hours everyday to produce were torn apart, dissected and devoured in a thoroughly efficient manner.
Actually it wasn't too bad. The very 'premise' that all my research rests on has been challenged and for all I know I should be happy that this happened today rather than one year from now, half way through my PhD. Meanwhile, I just have to work harder and more efficiently. A lot more.
So lets say that today was a day of dis-disillusionment - if you know what I mean. Yes, I am marred by war, a war waged by my guide, but to be fair to him its a war fought for me. So chin up and march - left, right, left.
I always knew that research was tough business. After all, haven't I seen my dad juggle his office work and research (received his PhD though). I carried no illusions about a bed of roses or anything. However, I seriously reconsidered my opinion on research scholars after starting my own in Australia.
My fellow Fennerites (last year) who were doing their PhDs were so totally 'hep'. Nano even had three ear-rings in one ear (and none in the other) and dyed his hair blue one week, pink the other and even orange once. And he was doing PhD in Computational Molecular Biology (or something that sounds like that). The typical image of a PhD scholar with thick glasses, dishevelled clothes, unkempt hair, the word 'GEEK' stuck on his back, talking to himself in Greek (equations) appeared ridiculous. PhD wasn't all too bad, was it? And so I took the plunge. And all was fine. Until...
Until I walked into my supervisor's room today for one of those 'Weekly review' meetings. Frankly I have nothing against supervisors or weekly meetings. God forbid, but if there were no supervisors or weekly meetings, no research would ever take place. I, like most PhD students would be content watching 'Everybody Loves Raymond', reading Dan Brown and blogging a dime to dozen about the quality of films in India or about the certifiably insane reality shows in Australia (I haven't written about it yet, have I? Hmmmm...juicy topic for next week). Weekly review meetings are the equivalent of caffein. Regular doses are obligatory to all researchers.
Anyway, I walked into my supervisor's room. The sky was blue, the air cool and I could see aircrafts taking off from the airport through his window. And more importantly I had done some work. I had three reports. Three very well written reports.
And then came the volley of questions, torrent of scathing remarks, bursts of discouraging divinations and the kind in such rapidity that Kalashnikov would have marvelled at this salvo. Oh! the irony of life. I am supposed to be doing my research on ballistic resistant polymers. But what can stop such fusillade.
My reports (yes, the same ones I just mentioned as 'very well written'), that I had spent all of the week working twelve hours everyday to produce were torn apart, dissected and devoured in a thoroughly efficient manner.
Actually it wasn't too bad. The very 'premise' that all my research rests on has been challenged and for all I know I should be happy that this happened today rather than one year from now, half way through my PhD. Meanwhile, I just have to work harder and more efficiently. A lot more.
So lets say that today was a day of dis-disillusionment - if you know what I mean. Yes, I am marred by war, a war waged by my guide, but to be fair to him its a war fought for me. So chin up and march - left, right, left.
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
Neruda
Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
Write for example, 'The night is shattered
and the blue stars shiver in the distance.'
The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
Through nights like this one I held her in my arms.
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.
She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.
To hear immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to a pasture.
What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is shattered and she is not with me.
This is all. In the distance someone is singing.
In the distance.My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
My sight searches for her as though to go to her.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.
The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.
Another's. She will be another's. Like my kisses before.
Her voice. Her bright body. Her infinite eyes.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is short, forgetting is so long.
Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
Write for example, 'The night is shattered
and the blue stars shiver in the distance.'
The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
Through nights like this one I held her in my arms.
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.
She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.
To hear immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to a pasture.
What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is shattered and she is not with me.
This is all. In the distance someone is singing.
In the distance.My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
My sight searches for her as though to go to her.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.
The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.
Another's. She will be another's. Like my kisses before.
Her voice. Her bright body. Her infinite eyes.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is short, forgetting is so long.
Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.
Bryce Courtenay and Dan Brown
I have started on a Bryce Courtenay, more than anything else because he is an 'Australian' writer. Megan lent me one of his books, "The Potato Factory" and before I could plunge into it, I read the review of his "April Fool's day". There is something about 'Fools' that attract me no end. Hunted down the book in the uni library. Interestingly it wasn't in the fiction section - and I had this premonition that I was getting myself into trouble.
And trouble is what I am into. April Fool's day is by no means a light-hearted romance. It is the true account of BC's son, a Haemophiliac who died, after much suffering on the first of April.
The book is really heavy (literally as well as figuratively) and four chapters into it, I am wondering how long it is going to take me to finish this. I am not against solemn tomes but given my intense (not kidding, guys!!!) research efforts, I am not sure my brain is ready for such exertions. (More on this book as and when??? I read it)
I sure would love something less profound, another Dan Brown perhaps (I finished both 'The Da Vinci Code' and 'Angels and Demons' and just loved it). And talking of Brown's DVC, saw a documentary on SBS yesterday about the numerous gaffes in Brown's DVC. Historians and scholars from over the world discussed DVC and argued its merits, implausibilities and outrageousness.
Reports of how tourists are flocking into DVC attractions (in Paris, they have special DVC guided tours) were amusing. Remember, how tourists to London for years have wanted to visit Baker street to see Sherlock Holmes' residence. Readers seldom appreciate the thin line between fact and fiction and the author needs to be commended for pulling off this farce, so convincingly.
Brown will also have to be applauded for bringing this raging controversy about the Holy Grail (that has lasted a good 2000 years) back in to popular scrutiny. But to what avail I know not. I seriously wonder if some good would come of it.
All modern religions, including Hinduism seem to attach a lot of importance to 'disowning' sex. The notion that God cannot be born of a sexual union is accentuated by Virgin Mary giving birth to Christ as also Lord Krishna (I recall that while Devaki's other children were born of Vasudevar, Krishna was mysteriously conceived). Ganapathy wasn't born of union either; He was created from the dirt of Parvathi. And Muruga was born of the fire from Shiva's third eye. I am sure the religions have their reason - it is just that I don't know.
As for the Holy Grail, I guess we would never know the truth about it.
And trouble is what I am into. April Fool's day is by no means a light-hearted romance. It is the true account of BC's son, a Haemophiliac who died, after much suffering on the first of April.
The book is really heavy (literally as well as figuratively) and four chapters into it, I am wondering how long it is going to take me to finish this. I am not against solemn tomes but given my intense (not kidding, guys!!!) research efforts, I am not sure my brain is ready for such exertions. (More on this book as and when??? I read it)
I sure would love something less profound, another Dan Brown perhaps (I finished both 'The Da Vinci Code' and 'Angels and Demons' and just loved it). And talking of Brown's DVC, saw a documentary on SBS yesterday about the numerous gaffes in Brown's DVC. Historians and scholars from over the world discussed DVC and argued its merits, implausibilities and outrageousness.
Reports of how tourists are flocking into DVC attractions (in Paris, they have special DVC guided tours) were amusing. Remember, how tourists to London for years have wanted to visit Baker street to see Sherlock Holmes' residence. Readers seldom appreciate the thin line between fact and fiction and the author needs to be commended for pulling off this farce, so convincingly.
Brown will also have to be applauded for bringing this raging controversy about the Holy Grail (that has lasted a good 2000 years) back in to popular scrutiny. But to what avail I know not. I seriously wonder if some good would come of it.
All modern religions, including Hinduism seem to attach a lot of importance to 'disowning' sex. The notion that God cannot be born of a sexual union is accentuated by Virgin Mary giving birth to Christ as also Lord Krishna (I recall that while Devaki's other children were born of Vasudevar, Krishna was mysteriously conceived). Ganapathy wasn't born of union either; He was created from the dirt of Parvathi. And Muruga was born of the fire from Shiva's third eye. I am sure the religions have their reason - it is just that I don't know.
As for the Holy Grail, I guess we would never know the truth about it.
Monday, June 06, 2005
Failure can be funny
Failure is not humorous at all, I know. But just google the world "failure" and where do you land but the official biography of George W. Bush, no less. Funny, because there is no mention of the word in the site. Apparently some well meaning prankster fiddled with the search engine. Incidentally, second on the list is Michael Moore's Anti-Bush propaganda site. Does the prankster imply that Moore failed in denting Bush's reputation, I wonder! Long live humour in men - the ability to see the hilarious side of the most desolate condition.
Thursday, June 02, 2005
Kalki rises... again
The first week of blogging, I chanced upon a priceless treasure - the translation of Sivagamiyin Sabadham, the immortal epic by Kalki. Needless to say, I immediately scuba-dived in to it and in three days caught up with the author (only the first book has been completed and the author, Pavithra is still working on the second book).
I experienced the same exhiliration that I felt when I read the original a few years back. Narasimhar and Sivagami haunted me through sleepless nights and a sort of passion burned in me. Just as before.
Incidentally, Kalki's other great works have also been translated, also by youngesters. C.V.Karthik Narayanan has translated and published "Ponniyin Selvan" in a set of five books (as was the original) and a Nirupama Raghavan has published "Parthiban Kanavu". Apparently both the translations were quite good.
If someone reading this blog has read those works, kindly comment.
Translating classics, in general is a thankless job. No matter how hard you work on it, readers will always feel that it isn't the same thing as the original. Pavithra's work deserves the praise for a job being done well. I am positive that if Kalki was alive today, he would be very very proud of her masterful retelling of the Sivagamiyin Sabadham. Can't wait to see it all done.
I bless my parents' forethought when they insisted on me learning Tamil in school. As they put it, "What is life worth if you haven't read, enjoyed and savoured Kalki" (and Sujatha and Balakumaran and...). I have initiated many a friend to Kalki and sympathised with some of them who haven't been able to, because of their 'tamil illiteracy'. I am glad that now they can read these classics too. I am gladder that Kalki's classics, which were written in the first place to introduce and to give a sense of pride of the Tamil culture hasn't lost appeal among youngsters and endured the test of time.
I experienced the same exhiliration that I felt when I read the original a few years back. Narasimhar and Sivagami haunted me through sleepless nights and a sort of passion burned in me. Just as before.
Incidentally, Kalki's other great works have also been translated, also by youngesters. C.V.Karthik Narayanan has translated and published "Ponniyin Selvan" in a set of five books (as was the original) and a Nirupama Raghavan has published "Parthiban Kanavu". Apparently both the translations were quite good.
If someone reading this blog has read those works, kindly comment.
Translating classics, in general is a thankless job. No matter how hard you work on it, readers will always feel that it isn't the same thing as the original. Pavithra's work deserves the praise for a job being done well. I am positive that if Kalki was alive today, he would be very very proud of her masterful retelling of the Sivagamiyin Sabadham. Can't wait to see it all done.
I bless my parents' forethought when they insisted on me learning Tamil in school. As they put it, "What is life worth if you haven't read, enjoyed and savoured Kalki" (and Sujatha and Balakumaran and...). I have initiated many a friend to Kalki and sympathised with some of them who haven't been able to, because of their 'tamil illiteracy'. I am glad that now they can read these classics too. I am gladder that Kalki's classics, which were written in the first place to introduce and to give a sense of pride of the Tamil culture hasn't lost appeal among youngsters and endured the test of time.
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
Most Wanted
The wall of our Postgrad room, nicknamed the 'Stress Lounge' is richly adorned by caricatures of all students, current and past. Before you even mention it, I admit. It does resemble the 'Most Wanted' list in Police Stations.
No points for spotting me. Not much of a challenge, my colleague swears he didn't do a thing in Photoshop. Says, didn't have to.
No points for spotting me. Not much of a challenge, my colleague swears he didn't do a thing in Photoshop. Says, didn't have to.
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