Happy Vday

Sigh…As I celebrate more than two decades of singledom, I wish all the losers in love with full bitterness a very happy valentine’s. However, there are things that can possibly be banned on Vday without hurting sentiments of love-sick puppies:

Red accessories: Almost every idiot on the street wears a wannabe red shirt. In fact, girls are no less. I saw one with red nail polish and earrings.

Celebrity interviews on TV: Yes. A lot of these frustrated single celebs, who go on and on about how Vday is for everybody and give free advice on how to gift flowers for mom, gran, and the dog next door. Ough!! Repeat after me: Valentine is not for everybody. It is meant for people who are so much into themselves that they can afford to blow up money in tacky places stuffed with pink balloons and red confetti.

Flowers: Last year, my roomie got flowers from her ‘actually-he-is-not-my-boyfriend-because-it-is-not-a-right-thing-to-do-according-to-indian-culture-but-he-pays-for-my-shopping-trips-so-just-to-please-him-let-us-call-him-my-very-very-very-close-companion’ friend and decided to put it right next to our bed. After 24 hours, the room started smelling of dead rats and I hinted that she throw them out. She looked at me like I was not human and scooped up those flowers to smell them. “These flowers remind me of him”, she decided finally after stuffing them into her nose for a whole minute. I was tempted to reply, “Eww. Does he smell that way?”, but I kept quiet for the fear of changing her mind about the flowers. “With people like you, the world will soon come to an end”, she finished and took her flowers away. Thank god.

Talk shows: Last year, there was a debate on the lines of how falling in love could ruin your possibilities of running for presidency and how youngsters insult the illustrious lineage of their ancestors (who all had two wives)by putting their family names at stake. The dude mediating the show was clad in a suit with a tie, but patronized the viewers endlessly on the ill effects of western influence.

Hearts: Every damn thing is heart-shaped on Vday. I know love comes from the heart, but heart-shaped hair clips is taking it too far. They look incredibly stupid, and should be banned.

History of Vday on papers: Who cares! Everybody parrots the same lines, “Vday is actually celebrated in memory of St.Valentine” This is a gimmick to justify that Vday is not a figment of imagination and that there was a solid dude whom we can blame for dying and thereby single-handedly destroying the very and probably the only premise of conservative Indian culture, “All Indians are my brothers and sisters”

Yes. This was written out of pure boredom as I consciously stay away from the outdoors to avoid frequent gagging and disgust on Vday. Well, this may all become tolerable one day maybe, if I manage to keep this post away from dad. Thinking of that, the guy at the bus stop with a red tee was kinda cute. Hmmm…maybe next year...

I want

• My cough to go away.
• To lose my frog in the blender voice.
• My book backlog to stop making me feel guilty.
• To take an already delayed decision before it is too late.
• To forgive, forget, and be honest.
• My assignmetns to magically complete themselves.
• To stop falling in love with bulleted text.

Ayirathil Oruvan – Movie Review

Hmmm…let’s see…What do you get if you mix The Mummy, Gladiator, Alien, and any other sci-fi/ adventure English movie you can think of with a liberal dose of bollywood ishtyle dance routines – voila! Ayirathil Oruvan!!!

Daringly different, gripping, and visually appealing, AO, is a class apart – until the interval. It is a story of an archeological group that goes in hunt of a statue stolen by a group of Chola warriors from the Pandians, god knows how long ago. To reach the place, the group has to cross seven obstacles and dangers.

This simple and a promising plot could have been well-executed, only if the script-writer hadn’t fallen asleep after the first two hours of the movie. What starts of as a racy plot, sags, and dies an unnatural death, a few minutes after the interval. The adventure suddenly turns into a ridiculously melodramatic story that suddenly has one of the lead actors playing a queen in stupid outfits.

The highlights of the movie are the actors, visuals, and crisp editing. Karthi, as the daily wage laborer/hero, scores a million points for his acting skills. He is one of those rare actors who can prove a point with just a nod. Both of the heroines are supremely hot, but considering that it is a movie, the sugar babes could have also acted a little bit.

The music is forgettable. One of the songs with a popular Tamil devotional tune with English lyrics sounds preposterous. Evidently, the music (which is usually a trend-setter in all Selvaraghavan movies) fails to impress.

Graphics are first-rate. A scene which has snakes crawling all over the tents looks so convincing. There are a lot of horrific murder, human sacrifice, and war scenes in the movie. The war scenes are extremely visually appealing and notable.

This movie is a classic case of an excellent script, with an exceptional director, and extraordinary actors, but too many concepts. My verdict – It is definitely worth a watch, for the attempt.

Apathy...

Life's small moments teach you a lot more than you can envisage. Years of classroom lectures can probably help you rattle off point-after-point in a heated discussion, but basic lessons in sharing and love is something you can never find inside an air-conditioned room.

For instance, I happened to notice a group of gypsies, whose house was the platform, on my way to office. Two little famished kids, stark naked, were sipping tea from one small glass. That probably was their breakfast. Along their way came a dog, wagging its tail at the tea. One of the kids quickly pulled a broken plastic toy, which doubled up as a plate too, poured some tea into it, and offered it to the dog.

Tears welled up in my eyes when I saw such a magnanimous action two little souls were capable of performing. Inspite of giving away the little they had, they were content. It was charity in its purest form and found only among people who had nothing to give.

Even I, who passed them everyday, who could have bought them breakfast, had selfish walls built around me. With thoughts of reaching office on time, I had walked away like the rest of the crowd, pretending to ignore the blatant poverty on the other side of the road.

Indeed, what have we as humans conquered, if we have not the heart to stop for a minute to show empathy?

Exams or Xmas??

In less than a week, i have EXAMS!!! Starting a day after Christmas, my exams drag upto a day after New year. This technically means, no Christmas or new year hols for me.. :(

When the whole world is free, the music season in chennai is tempting, the weather makes you want to curl up for five more minutes...I am mechanically reading line after line of printed text.

Miserable existence i should say... The only thing that keeps me going is coffee and christmas carols...Speaking of carols..here's a very funny one i heard...Merry Christmas folks!!!

Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer

Why me?

Client visit on Friday...Office abuzz with insane excitement... The team that is meeting the firang, strutting around like they have been awarded the Oscars...

As a part of the privileged team who was meeting the guy, I had no choice but to be a part of the general cheer. As luck would have it, I was plopped right in front of the conference hall, about five inches away from him and his PowerPoint slides.

He began his monologue by killing my name. After becoming 'vaash' for him, Jabeen became "Alright, next", and Kalai, Senthil were reduced to mere nods. Then was the time for my biggest gaffe. He opened a huge plastic cover and said, "I've baght some thin for ya guys. Jus a bag of caramels. Pass it 'round", and passed the bag to me.
Beaming, I said, "Thank you so much" with so much of passion and vigor and Jabeen nodded encouragingly. Desperate for some chocolates, both of us ripped open the bag to find 'cameras'!!! Both of us had heard him wrong. We then passed the bag around with a face that made Droopy look cheerful.

After what seemed like ages, it was time for lunch. One of the biggies in the company that I worked for also joined us. As my lady luck had decided to go on a vacation that day, the bigwig motioned at an empty seat next to him. I had no choice but to oblige. The minute I sat down, another 'no-so-big-but-still-big" manager sat on the other. Before I could change my mind and get up from the table, the firang decided to sit right opposite me.

Trapped without an escape route, I decided to concentrate on the food. When I ordered a roti, the client made a wisecrack on my diet and the whole table guffawed like it was the joke of the millennium.

This is a serious lesson, all restaurants should learn - Indian food cannot be eaten with a fork dammit!!! The waiter, probably mistaking my 'is there any way to get out' look for the 'I could eat a blue whale' look, decided to plop an extra large piece of cauliflower on my plate. Without a choice, I took my spoon and started sawing the vegetable with fervor. What I did not realize was that the spoon had made noise equivalent of making marble cutters blush. Earning glares and ‘shhh’es from even the next table, I abandoned my effort.

After lunch, there was some live demonstration with cameras for about an hour, of which 55 minutes was spent on getting the wires fixed. The only thing that went alright was a surprise birthday party-complete with surprises and a chocolate cake for the team.

Moral: Faux pas and forks go hand-in-hand.

Rock on...

Yes. I crossed out yet another item on my ‘Things-to-do-before-i-die” list – Go to a rock concert.

Rock music thrives on the irrefutable and proven theory that anything that damages your eardrums will sound good eventually. After all with damaged eardrums , even CNN IBN reporters would sound like nightingales.

So what is the criteria for being considered a rock band?

• Should have a name that anybody remotely human cannot pronounce correctly for the first time, without sounding like a drunk. The band that I listened to was called splat or scrat or sprat, I can’t be sure even now.
• Should have a drummer who has long hair and a constant ‘I will kill you if you come nearer’ look. The more uncombed the hair is, the better.
• The lead guitarist should be a guy who should have the ability to disillusion the listeners into thinking that he can really sing. He can do so, by coming very close to the mike and shouting at full throttle. This will lead to interference and the mike starts singing by itself.

So, how can you get in?

• If you are a girl, empty two jars of perfume, three sticks of kajal, and one litre of hair gel on the concerned body parts. Also wear clothes that make war refugees look like Vijay Mallya.
• If you are a guy, wear trousers that might come off if you sneeze. Never even think of a comb for a month.
• General observation: Anything that will make the dogs on the street violent is acceptable.

How to be a Roman in Rome?

• Practice the forward and backward movement of the neck and head. It might make you look mentally unstable by the daylight, but here it is normal.
• Say ‘Wooo’ and clap in a frenzy after a song finishes. It makes you look very rock-knowledgeable.

Let me not even get into the lyrics part. One song just had, “Say it once again’ in several variations that almost made me get and ask them not to say it once again. The song format is this simple: Whisper into the mike...Saaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay (Decent enough)...Whisper...Sayyyyyyyy it vaaaaaaaance again.... (Insides churn)...Loud drums accompanied by whispers...Saaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay (creepy at several levels).

But, yes, the hypocrite in me says, 'I liked it after all' :)