tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-87005192024-03-23T11:32:54.735-07:00Hope Springs Eternal...Jibyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07324353796946088382noreply@blogger.comBlogger128125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8700519.post-1385753646063853882008-12-12T11:12:00.000-08:002008-12-12T12:05:07.951-08:00And...And finally a post here. Don't know if it will be my last on this blog. I invite you all to to my other blog, <a href="http://thedailyjibster.blogspot.com/">http://thedailyjibster.blogspot.com/</a>. I had almost decided against public blogging but a desire to make my voice heard resurfaced, which I could not hold back any longer. Have decided not to write any more personal posts on this blog, because of the humungous ego it instilled in me, and the conflict it would raise against the years ahead of slogging and working in almost virtual anonymity for commercial enterprises. For the same reason, I am disabling comments there. I know that a blog without commenting is a dull proposition, but I am scared of the addiction that a blog becomes. Trust me, the withdrawal symptoms of leaving this blog to dry up, was hard to bear. Another reason could be my spare use of the internet these days, compared to the earlier life when spending 12+ hours online was routine.Jibyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07324353796946088382noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8700519.post-43737412327179898542008-05-13T23:44:00.000-07:002008-05-16T09:59:10.154-07:00Swallowing Bitter Pills...I got an email from <a href="http://ashok.loyolites.com">Ashok</a>, a true guide and well-wisher, reminding me of the importance of credibility in the profession I am about to undertake. In his words, I had misused the trust, readers endowed on me by writing something that never happened. Though I defended my position in my reply to him, I feel apologetic now. No propaganda to label the movie, Thalappavu, as offbeat happened. I used it unnecessarily and dishonestly as a stick to beat the cult of superstar worship that I have grown to utterly hate. A big sorry on my part to all of you. Anyways let what I wrote, stay as is. I will never forget this lesson learnt and hold no bitterness. Thanks to <a href="http://www.varnachitram.com/2008/05/09/propaganda-against-thalapavu/">varnachitram</a> for showing me for what I was - yet another pen-pusher with an axe to grind.<br /><br />Now that is done and I feel at ease and peace, I need to somehow let loose the other things that perplexes me. Heading back home in a week, with no idea what I will be doing beyond the next two months - the heart beckons me to continue in trivandrum but I can't decide between becoming a part of the social circle of my parents and old friends which anyways will need a lot of money and mundane social interaction or follow the path of the last 2 years where I have kept largely to myself and lived an existence dictated by what interests me and nothing else. I am not sure that second track will lead to personal happiness but somewhere in my mind I feel a little happiness in having insulated my inner core from the recent prosperity besides the urge to expand that currently tiny warehouse of experiences which have been my best teachers. Hope neither of these become a casualty amidst the influences of kerala society and the comforts of home.<br /><br />And, I need to give this blog a break. I keep telling myself I am about to be friggin' 28 and I am wasting the youthful energy and insights of this age. I keep telling myself I haven't published a single work or for that matter even put the effort into it. I have been getting the feeling, perhaps wrongly, that I am investing too much into this blog, that its too much a part of my life than it should be and that its time to focus elsewhere. Its a hard decision, to let go of a good thing but I have thought over this hard for the last one month. And I doubt I can be gone for long, considering India is a place where blogging ideas abound for somebody passionate like me. But I HAVE to make that start on writing that first piece of publishable fiction, and I will return ONLY after I set a steady pace in that effort. Call it my faith in materialization powers - in simpler words, the belief that saying the stuff I want to do, out loud, will prod my subconscious mind to find a way, in helping me achieve that desire. <br /><br />Cheers everyone, and please spare me the embarrassment of wishing me all those good things in life and of missing my posts, etc, etc, which I know you guys will insistently do. So I am disabling comments on this post.Jibyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07324353796946088382noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8700519.post-23601856670078299532008-05-09T14:55:00.000-07:002008-05-09T17:14:51.722-07:00On How Languages Are Taught In School...Over the last one year, I have taken a few online classes and been irregularly perusing books on fiction and non-fiction writing. Though the classes were a failure because of my aversion to homework and the books ineffective because of my inability to read without distraction, what I have realized is that the fundamental basics which these books espouse are lessons that should have been taught to me in school itself. You guys must be wondering, why a self-conceited prince of no man's land like your's truly will take a poke at himself. The reasons is that I found to my utter annoyance last year, that I had virtually no idea about those most basic voices used in writing that we all subconsciously utilize - the first person, second person and third person. Like every craft, writing also needs guidance and a little sprinkling of theory is needed for us to master it. Sadly the springboard for our lives, schools, have essentially failed in providing this critical ingredient to spur our writing ability - an ability which i believe is a valuable part of our personality development.<br /><br />I went to a very good school, arguably among the best in Kerala, and how we like to believe, even in India. Yet, I can't remember a single instance of any English or Malayalam language teacher, giving us a lecture on what separates good writing from the bad or tips to improve our writing while they were adept at nitpicking on spelling and grammatical errors. The emphasis was always on grammar and vocabulary. I guess the blame mostly lies with the outdated syllabi we are all saddled with, which doesn't see writing as amongst the most important wheels in the creative process. A part of the blame could be apportioned to teachers who came up in another age, where the rigours of life had nipped out the last remaining bits of thinking out of the box and believed it is safer to stick to what works. Probably, another important factor is that these teachers are not equipped to talk to us about writing, as they themselves are unsure of their prowess as writers. Or it could be something as simple as lack of exposure to books on writing or something as complex as not having put in extra-academic thought about their own perspectives on writing through the books they studied or read.<br /><br />Our writings were always called compositions. Even when we wrote a story on a fictitious incident, it was always called a composition. Using a term like "short story" for that budding piece of writing, would have given so much confidence to us. The English course was divided into English-I and English-II and same with Malayalam. English-II was fun from high school - we learnt Shakespeare, poetry and short stories in these classes. Similarly Malayalam-II had novels and until the 8th, short stories and a few poems we lapped up. English-I bored us - one period dedicated to grammar and another period to composition, comprehension or letter writing and the odd stab at precis writing, which though useful was considered to be of lesser value. Frequently teachers would use up the English-I period to finish English-II portions which always lagged, while a Malayalam-I period was a rarity! I can imagine the world of difference it would have made if English-I and Malayalam-I was more about us finding the writer in us. I also have doubts if any of us learnt grammar properly either, despite the importance given to it, because of its inherent dryness which bounced, right off our young restless selves sans imbibition.<br /><br />Most of us learned to write, with some degree of comfort, thanks to the voracious reading appetite we had in those days, a result of the absence of distractions like the internet and cable tv. We were consciously and subconsciously inspired by the masters we read and to copy their styles, but the most frequent outlet to exercise our writing abilities was sadly only in examinations. Later came emails to friends or official ones at work and then came blogs. Writing for pleasure has continued in some form or the other for a lucky few, and as part of their profession for the rest. What we all continue to lack, is a better understanding of the craft. Some learn the finer points without guidance because these are mostly common sense principles, noticeable if people have thought, compared and contrasted theirs and others writing. Others fumble along blissfully without that self-realization. I for one, hope that schools take a hard look at the absence of well-rounded writing classes in their curriculum and the very real fact that writing is not just a natural or inborn ability but one that can be cultivated in every young mind through proper guidance.Jibyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07324353796946088382noreply@blogger.com30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8700519.post-20724716442443755402008-05-05T12:37:00.000-07:002008-12-11T13:10:16.836-08:00Thalappavu Coming...Why would I dedicate a post to a movie that I am yet to see? Because this is a film that has excited me from the day I came to know of its announcement and because the film is about a man who I adore to the cusp of hero worship. And because I don't see a trace of this man's sacrifice, leadership and heroism in today's generation of young Keralites. "Naxal" Varghese as we call him today was the CPM Wayanad district secretary who chucked a promising future as a politician(probably chiefministership too???) to join the Naxalite Movement protesting against the party's acquiescence of landlordism and exploitation of tribals and peasants ultimately laying down his young life for the people whose conditions he strived to better.<br /><br />I am no supporter of violent upheaval but there are situations when you feel justified in your support for such movements. Naxalites are back in relevance and have even begun to rule, as we see in neighbouring Nepal where the ruling class and middle class ignored the fate of the underprivileged majority. We have states in India with naxal menace like Jharkand, Chattisgarh, West Bengal, Andhra Pradesh, Madhya Pradesh, Bihar, Orissa, etc that are seething at the non-improvement of their living conditions despite 60 years of independence and democracy. While India has zestfully responded to the justified need of supressing these violent movements, more importantly the efforts to address the ills that plague the societal inequalities in these states have not been tackled properly.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9rAvrhm45ALTjSHLJGWm4v_-5NGoQUCTJsiaBVGQV40gcM0xkoa8kVbB8Q_yDpogURYtYtfpUMMqCcvMX50Lfn0UTiFH0Gv70hgZx67RS6YkVKcG8nDTuigv5Ud7AOc73uU_VMA/s1600-h/47.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9rAvrhm45ALTjSHLJGWm4v_-5NGoQUCTJsiaBVGQV40gcM0xkoa8kVbB8Q_yDpogURYtYtfpUMMqCcvMX50Lfn0UTiFH0Gv70hgZx67RS6YkVKcG8nDTuigv5Ud7AOc73uU_VMA/s400/47.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5196984892552780642" /></a><br /><br />Thalappavu will release anytime soon I hear. Many years back I read these three wonderful articles on rediff when retired police constable Ramachandran Pillai who is dead now confessed to the <a href="http://www.rediff.com/news/1998/nov/13keral1.htm">cold-blooded murder</a> of Varghese. On that same day rediff also carried this article <a href="http://www.rediff.com/news/1998/nov/13keral.htm">indicting the establishment</a>. A few years later noted Kerala journalist George Iype travelled to Thirunnelli and <a href="http://www.rediff.com/news/2001/apr/30iype.htm">discovered the legend</a> that surrounded Varghese 30 years after his death. Around the same time, mainstream newspapers like Manorama and Mathrubhumi retrieved superbly written articles from their archives chronicling the last days of Varghese, Ajitha's arrest and the fatal torture inflicted on Rajan. Unfortunately I didn't have the foresight to save those gems. <br /><br />In Thalappavu, Prithviraj plays Varghese and Lal plays constable Pillai who killed him. The movie is directed by actor Madhupal who makes his debut behind the megaphone, script is by Babu Janardhanan who arrived in prominence with Achanurangatha Veedu and Vasthavam in 2006, with camera helmed by veteran Azhagappan and is produced by Tamil actor, Mohan. Check out the film's superb website at <a href="http://www.thalappavu.com">http://www.thalappavu.com</a>. I decided to pitch this movie seeing propoganda aimed against this film by our "harmless" superstar fans who have already begun deriding it as offbeat, a "derisive" label which today is used to keep people away from theatres. A movie like this deserves to succeed but is waiting release as crap superstar flicks like Annan Thampi and Innathe Chinthavishayam continue their artificial run. Hope my little blog has given you all a heads-up and everyone will go watch this movie in its first week. Also check out two snaps I uncovered from the net of Varghese, shot by famed Manorama photographer, T.Narayanan . Note the facial similarily he shares with Prithviraj which probably prompted his casting for this role. The other one is Varghese shot to death after the "encounter".<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmhQX-yplbXUkWnuBHPm01diCzZsvAtH2VlCrwIDlpYatFXKCw5bxknMkRC2mxnSIUkWbw8ab2mQZl2im4zId1g3gsCquNew4s97qdrmjSLf7_mzK1AjBnWQPNQ4c-fqqdL0oB0Q/s1600-h/11rae5v.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmhQX-yplbXUkWnuBHPm01diCzZsvAtH2VlCrwIDlpYatFXKCw5bxknMkRC2mxnSIUkWbw8ab2mQZl2im4zId1g3gsCquNew4s97qdrmjSLf7_mzK1AjBnWQPNQ4c-fqqdL0oB0Q/s400/11rae5v.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5196992284191497122" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxzSAkIc34DuChWIJUVsrAPcZQE1VqlEcmokMQpiHpEau-lve9S56QvGeBmTpy69I25g3iRn_5VoDY2JZy4-Z9VJo4Fe_26SOhFTeIiBKRwPG74y80NgwPjBbsUM8YBXWVj9LFXA/s1600-h/29yobwh.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxzSAkIc34DuChWIJUVsrAPcZQE1VqlEcmokMQpiHpEau-lve9S56QvGeBmTpy69I25g3iRn_5VoDY2JZy4-Z9VJo4Fe_26SOhFTeIiBKRwPG74y80NgwPjBbsUM8YBXWVj9LFXA/s400/29yobwh.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5196992185407249298" /></a>Jibyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07324353796946088382noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8700519.post-48451396049378562592008-04-24T23:16:00.000-07:002008-04-25T09:46:49.738-07:00Surviving the Quarter-Life Crisis...Before the "quarter life crisis" struck, I vaguely remember a young ambitious man, a recent engineering grad from a tough as nails Master's program, eager to work hard, make money, do his mba from an ivy league school in a few years, dreaming of marrying a beautiful girl, investing his money, traveling to exotic places, keeping his parents happy and well provided for, winning every struggle that came his way and living the life, middle-class youth of today's India can aspire for and be definitely able to reach. And then from a point where he thought everything was figured out, the plot to his life went awry. His dear and near ones helplessly watched the show as he gradually retreated into irritability, unhappiness and aloofness. Today, what he wonders though, is the crisis striking him late, say five years from now, and he turns a gun on himself, realizing it is too late to change tracks. I have heard many a Tom, Dick and Harry in my generation say they are in QLC and surprisingly their lives go on just how it was before their supposed crisis began, the lucky ones beat it by jumping jobs or going to B-School. Mine wasn't so easy - it lasted three years and changed me inside out, hopefully for the better.<br /><br />When I left India it was an escape from the long looming shadow of my dad. I have believed that every generation born into a family which can provide for their education has the responsibility to go one step ahead of their parents. Making a new life in a new land was my idea of that step ahead. The quarter-life crisis changed everything for me. It all began on my first job out of university, a startup in San Diego. While my batchmates plumped for big companies, I opted for a job with subsistence-level basic minimum pay but with a tempting stock option offer, believing the day they went IPO I could retire with a six digit bank balance. The American Dream was about to sour. I realized I couldn't sit on a chair inside a cube for more than half an hour before the world outside beckoned me or in conference rooms where people deliberated solutions to business challenges while I nodded away to puppetic perfection. I was too restless beyond my own comprehension. My mind began to work in ways I couldn't control. Ideas of an alternate life, a rewarding life started entering my head. It took 1 1/2 years and four jobs with varying degrees of success and failure to help me take that first step. I gave the first of my childhood ambitions, the UPSC a shot. For close to a year, I had a semi-reprieve from my early-life crisis but it returned with a bang when I realized the civil service exam was an effort undertaken too late, too unprepared.<br /><br />The US was my escape route again, to weave the next plan of action. I found a new field and a new job that I have been working at, for more than a year now. But the crisis continued with me - the comfort level with this job was just an illusion, it told me, and the way ahead offered me, just more of boredom and dissatisfaction. I penned down on a piece of paper all the careers that best fit me. It took me to a final answer after much frustration, enforced loneliness, soul-searching and soul-searing. The choice may not be the perfect fit but it shines a lamp, enough for me to see a narrow path to start walking on, knowing if I stay the course, wider roads will appear in their own sweet time. The crisis waned. I was at peace finally. I found my happiness again. I now look back and believe this was the best phase in my life. In my hardships and mental turmoil, I discovered my own thinking, lifestyle, personality and most importantly my writing voice that reflected on this blog. I get scared at times now, but a beginning has to be made. I am lucky. I have given myself a second chance in life. I thank my parents - they have backed me through it all. I should remember to give and afford my children the same freedom and courage to dream.<br /><br />Last weekend, I was in Chicago with one of my closest friends from school and our parting revelry was broken by a brother of ours mailing in that he had resigned his high-profile job in Manhattan. The early life crisis was claiming another short-term casualty. I returned from the holiday thinking and believing he had done the right thing and deviously decided on sparking a fire in a college pal's smooth life. This was a guy who I thought would go on to become an entrepreneur and a leader of men and instead lived content with waiting for his green card and life as a programmer. Though I have no right to interfere in another person's life or be judgmental, I lost patience with the tepid ideas he kept suggesting and dropping, never to be heard again and offered him a piece of my mind, on the precious time he was losing and what a lazyass he was becoming. The crisis was good for me - it has given me dreams, it has given me a reason to work hard, it has made me strong. I don't know about success, but I will survive. I will be happy. But I am feeling guilty and horrible now - I hate this tendency in me to give advice and support when not solicited - why did I do it to him, will he go into that churn now, what if he had put a roof on his dreams to continue supporting his family, will a QLC do him good, was I being stupid? Time will tell...Jibyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07324353796946088382noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8700519.post-32382373826477062552008-04-13T13:08:00.000-07:002008-04-13T19:46:39.596-07:00Money Couldn't Buy Me Food...Resurgent India has suddenly gone defensive. Is the euphoria with India's booming economy fading? Were we oozing confidence based on hollow growth numbers? At the Indian store today, they had no Nirapara kuthari to make kanji(porridge) that I suddenly had a craving for and the owner gravely tells me all non-basmatic rice exports from India have been banned following soaring rice prices. Is this the India that until a few months back proudly watched its stock exchanges break record after record? Will banning exports provide a short-term solution to inflation in India and the impending food crisis? Will Chidambaram's farmer friendly budget help in the long term? A country which serves notice on the world with Tata buying Jaguar should have nowhere to hide and deserves a round of booing for this shameless economic restriction. I had the money but I didn't get the rice I wanted to buy. I couldn't care less about exports but what if this inflation is a precursor to crippling food scarcity within the country? And my stuck-up, lazy self decided I needed to write on this. <br /><br />Some years back, dad told me of the food scarcity in the '60s in the context of the influential Church in Kerala. His family had money, land and the cash crop of our times, rubber, but there was no food. They could atleast depend on tapioca, livestock, etc. Many people didn't have even that. The Church stepped in and became a public distribution system with contributions from abroad. They also earned goodwill and managed to convert many people in Kerala to Christianity. I asked my mom today what the food scarcity of the 60's meant to her family. They were paddy cultivators and grew most of the vegetables they needed. She also had an almost similar answer but her reply also highlighted a glaring irony, very relevant to today's times. They also subsisted on tapioca and everything else they raised because the rice they harvested yielded good prices in the market, so they consumed less of it! If there was a food scarcity today, what can people fall back on. Can money buy a commodity for which production and supply can't meet the demand? What will people have, to fall back on now that we are strangers to the soil, now that every inch of earth is fertile ground for production activities of modern man, save what its best suited for?<br /><br />The food crisis has been building up over time and aggravated by the unbalanced growth India has been witnessing. From real estate eating up farmland in Hyderabad, Tata's auto-manufacturing company in Singur, the farm unions in Kuttanad, the uneconomical again thanks-to-globalization cotton crops in Vidarbha the challenges faced by agriculture in every part of India is different and at the same time has its origins in our apathy to recognize the importance of a healthy agricultural system. That our politicians have the solution to the food crisis in Kerala and intends to do something about this is obvious from <a href="http://www.hindustantimes.com/StoryPage/StoryPage.aspx?id=df366ed8-a659-4443-8a8c-a429e2e4b98a&MatchID1=4680&TeamID1=6&TeamID2=3&MatchType1=1&SeriesID1=1179&PrimaryID=4680&Headline=Egg+on+minister%e2%80%99s+face+over+'diet'+remarks">this statement</a> by the Food Minister, C.Divakaran. Why doesn't the honorable minister say that we depend for the milk, chicken and eggs on a state that blows hot and cold each time on the Mullaperiyar issue every time the demand for a new dam is raised!<br /><br />At the junction closest to my house in Trivandrum, I was met this time by a crowd, a multitude of strange faces. People who were not residents or workers in the area until a few years before. These were not the elegantly dressed employees of the technopark, who find the locality a perfect place to live in and commute to work from. I despaired at this mini-Chandni Chowk my surroundings was becoming, I didn't know where those tired faces came from. Today I wonder if these are people who left their villages for a less-taxing, more yielding life in the cities? Gandhiji famously said "the soul of India lives in its villages". Was he not pepping up the farmer with that statement, was he making a long-run prophesy for the best future of the Indian state, or was he mourning the impending death of village life, and losing its charms to the superficial magnetism that city life had. For long, we have been worrying about the harmful effect on our cities caused by rural migration. Only a few like <a href="http://www.indiatogether.org/opinions/psainath/">P.Sainath</a> have the vision to direct our attention to the villages, the livelihood that these people turn their backs on and the reasons behind that.<br /><br />A friend recently returned from a study tour to China and talked of farmer anger at officialdom which frequently uproots them from their land and plants them in factories amidst a sea of disciplined uniformed robotic men and women whose lives are as monotonous as the machines they assemble. Are we not doing something similar to the Indian farmer? We need to give back to the farmer his pride of place in society, otherwise we should soon be ready to grow on our backyards, frontyards and on every bit of soil we can find - the tapioca, poultry, cows and vegetables we badly need for our nourishment. Yes, this is a situation that will come to reality in our lifetimes, atleast in Kerala - make no mistake, like the professional beggars on our streets, an epithet - The Rich Beggar's Country - is waiting for us. We will have pockets flush with money, but stomachs as light as Somalians. Then we will surely learn our lesson - we will learn the dignity of labour and agriculture.<br /><br />P.S - I dedicate this post to a friend who once tried/still tries too hard to change my thinking. He believed I had a human core which he could influence. His ideas were/are too militant for my "ghar ki safai me haath kaun gandha karein" middle-class moorings but I find myself beginning to share his thoughts. A quote in the film Kingdom of Heaven resonates within me all these years since I first heard it - <i>"What man is a man who does not make the world better?"</i> I know what man I am - I am a gold-digger who seems to have lost the lust for gold. What man are you?Jibyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07324353796946088382noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8700519.post-11647941644070507582008-04-12T23:22:00.000-07:002008-04-13T13:17:47.733-07:00The Past Always Catches Up!A close friend from my college days called up. He was very agitated. His parents had begun earnestly looking for a girl for him but nothing was working out.<br /><b>He:</b> Neeyokke blogil oro thonnivaasam ezhuthi vekkum. Athine anubhavikkunnathe njanum.<br /><b>Me:</b> Enna patti aliya.<br /><b>He:</b> Dey Thanthapadi vilichirunnu. Angere ennode chodikkuva enne kuriche naatukaarkke nalla mathippaanalle enne.<br /><b>Me:</b> Lol...I call this poetic justice! I am going to write about this!<br /><br />And so I thought of all the times the past caught up with people around me, of course not excluding myself.<br />-------------<br /><br />My dad's best friend in college was a class act in roguery like my pal above. He is still an eccentric character and I just adore this man. He runs two Indian restaurants in Rome and has called one of them Kama Sutra! <br />Once his wife returned to their native place for some family function. A villager approaches her.<br /><b>He:</b> Mole ethe kudumbathiletha?<br />She tells him.<br /><b>He:</b> Avide oru thaanthonni ondaayirunnallo aa kattakayathinte koodeyokke nadannirunnathe. Ayaalokke rekshapetto aavo!<br /><b>She:</b> Aa thaanthonniyude bhaaryayaanu njan!<br />--------------<br /><br />We were doing our master's then, fresh off the boat and exploring america intently. That was when a friend's dad was visiting LA and we took him around the city. And of all places, he notices a strip club.<br /><b>Uncle:</b> Oh strip clubs! Must be very expensive.<br /><b>Friend</b>(in the spirit of tour-guiding): Oh not really. Just 20 dollars per song.<br />We glare at him. Friend locks his mouth with his hands.<br /><b>Uncle</b>(stunned, thwacks friend on his head): Saale, tu mera paisa aisa hi barbaad karega!<br /><b>Friend</b>(rubbing his head): Innocent fun, dad. Please don't tell mom.<br />---------------<br /><br />A few years back, I was in TVM on my way to Delhi for the UPSC classes. My parents were sitting around me, I couldn't say if they were happy or sad but they were both tensed. Suddenly my mom speaks up.<br /><b>Mom:</b> Did you know, that 20 years back your dad was intent on quitting his university job and wanted to go back to Idukki and join politics! I took a strong stand and thankfully good sense prevailed.<br /><b>Pops:</b> Onne mindaathirikkaavo. Aavashyamillaathathokke pillere paranje keppikkaalle!<br /><b>Mom:</b> Illa avanum ariyatte, avante appante vazhikalil koodayaane avanteyum pokkenne.<br /><b>Me:</b> Really? That takes a big load off my back. I couldn't understand why all this was happening to me.<br />I looked at my dad. He replied with a sheepish grin. From father to son, the struggles with idealism had found new roots in the next generation too. My mom knew at that moment, that the inherent pragmatism of the Karoors had no place in me.<br />---------------<br /><br />I had always thought our mom was a curious mix of conservatism and modern ideas. The hard part was always figuring out where she stood on our dealings with the opposite sex, and to be safe I always kept that part of my life masked from her.<br /><br />There was this time when my sis was finding it awkward explaining to her why my bro-in-law had to visit her before the wedding. And as fate would have it sis heard a story from mom's best friend that made our ears pop!<br />It seems he had caught my parents hanging out together at the Indian Coffee House at Thampanoor and a few other places before their wedding.<br />When we questioned mom, she is shocked for a second, then blushes, a clear concession of defeat, then puts on the lawyer's robe and cunningly prods, "Ee kallangalokke aara ningalode paranjathe?"<br />--------------<br /><br />Pops used to be a very rash driver. He had to be at the head of the traffic and he knew no rest till he passed every vehicle on the road. Once he drove my friend and me back from Nagercoil where we went to write the TN Entrance Exam in sharp 40 minutes(the distance is like 60kms). On returning my friend remarks, "Dey entrancinte result varunnathine munpe exit aakum enne njan vichaarichu, ho jeevan thiriche kittiya aashvaasam!"<br />Ironically, a few wise people in Trivandrum decided to form a Road Safety Council and guess who they put in the governing body! We ribbed Pops about it and he defended himself by saying he had changed. That is when mom remarks, "Speedil odikunnathinte perspective kodukkaanaayirikkum pappaye avare member aakiyathe!" <br />--------------<br /><br />In our family taking the cars out and returning with minor dents or scratches is a common happening. Equally common is that none of the guilty parties, parents or children, will reveal their hand and try passing the blame on to others, if and when the laceration is detected. Last time I was home, I came back late at night and saw a ghastly dent on the rear bumper. My face fell. Just the other day, sis had taken the other car out, rammed into a roadside wall and landed the vehicle at the workshop. I knew I was in for trouble, but when did this happen - I just had one beer! So I tepidly walk in, tiptoed past my parents bedroom and then I hear whispers. What do I do? I eavesdrop, of course! <br /><b>Mom:</b> Avan Vannu<br /><b>Pops:</b> Inne vittekkam. Naale avante thalayil veche kodukkaam!<br /><br />That's when I barge in.<br /><b>Me:</b> Ingane venam parents aayaal.<br /><b>Mom</b>(changes sides!): Eda pappa konde idichatha. vaikunneram enne prathi aakaan nokki, pakshe nadannilla!<br /><b>Me:</b> Deyvame, ingane aanalle enne pande pattunna ella poralinum ningal utharavaadi aakiyathu.(That day was my chance to play saint! :)<br />--------------<br /><br />And finally my big moment! <br /><br />I always used to boast to my friends that I had an unblemished reputation in front of my parents unlike all of them, until this happened. A few years back, my dad visited me in the US and we shared a few beers. I outrightly overtook him 3 beers to his 1. He went back and told this to my mom who got very concerned.<br /><b>She:</b> Ayyo avanode entha parayaathe kudi nirthaan?<br /><b>He:</b> Rekshayilla! Nammude mookinte keezhil ninne avan kaanicha paripaadi enthaananne ariyaamo?<br /><b>She:</b> Illa?<br /><b>He:</b> Ivide pottichirunna kuppikal ellaatheennum avan ooti, ennittu level correct aakaan vellavum narachu!<br /><br />My sis heard this conversation and dutifully reported it to me. I couldn't figure out how Pops found out, nor do I have the courage to ask. My best guess is that one of his cousins had the drinks "on the rocks' and found it unnaturally dilute! Pops, I know you always suspected Appachan too for this, maybe he also tried it out, but I am a guilty party too. You must be wondering how you got caught between two errant generations! That was your college-going boy showing off to his friends, please don't take it to heart. Peace between men!<br />---------------<br /><br /><b>P.S</b> - Well, there's no escaping the past. Some day in the future, even this post will come back from the past. I wrote only about the good times. About karma, my mom would tell me - if you don't suffer for your actions, it will be the next generation that has to. She would cite me numerous examples to build her case. Meanwhile, check out <a href="http://rajamohan.blogspot.com/">this blog</a> for those interested in writing of a very high quality. Also my <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ytdDJoZiN4w">fave song</a> of recent times is finally up on youtube. Happy Vishu to all!Jibyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07324353796946088382noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8700519.post-17793367480125932842008-04-06T03:52:00.000-07:002008-12-11T13:10:18.417-08:00Om Padmarajanaaya Namaha, Om Adooraaya Namaha, Om TVChandranaaya Namaha, Om Varuvaanirikkunnavaraaya Namaha...I went to college in the 1998-2002 period. A phase which many have attributed to as the nadir of the malayalam industry. A time when the film industry survived on the slender shoulders of Dileep and the thunder thighs of Shakeela. Yet there were a few good movies then. I watched around 300 movies in the theatres then, but I never went for a film festival, never watched a movie that the parallel and middle of the road pioneers of Malayalam cinema made in those years. I was in the firm grip of a mob which thrived on mediocrity. Ten years hence I have changed. I am ashamed to say this but it took a foreign wind and foreign thought to change me. I am trying hard to make up for all those lost years. Maybe those years were not lost after all. That might have been my life on one road, the "naadu odumbol naduve odunna" road. Once again I write on movies. Fundamentally, I haven't changed. I still love well-made commercial films like Om Shanti Om, Jodhaa Akbar, Kathaparayumbol, Chocolate and Cycle which keeps me entertained. <br /><br />But have watched some awesome malayalam movies over the past one and a half years in the US and though I have made the mistake of not blogging them down immediately, there is an acute need on the internet for plot summaries and detailed reviews of many of malayalam cinema's finest. When I began this post, I was wondering if I was guilty of being a show-off, waxing eloquent on all these "class" movies. That thought sort of killed my enthusiasm, until I decided that writing is an act of faith in oneself and what I probably lacked was the confidence in doing justice to these films. While at Delhi, I was advised by a friend to give up my movie craze and start reading books. But the literary quality of these movies which I write of below has made up quite a bit for the lack of interest in reading. I don't expect anyone to read this whole post. Despite the length, it had to be one post as I might never have come back to finish this task, if left half way. My only regret is that I have devoted only a few sentences to these works of art which deserved a 1000 word article each, but I leave that blessing to others more competent than me. This is my small way of giving back to a medium that has helped continue my growth as an individual over the last one and a half years, while I mindlessly slaved for the dollar on a parallel track. <br /><br />Six months back, I wrote a bitter post attacking the superstars of Malayalam Cinema and pleading for the arrival of young blood. As though to answer my prayers, 4 movies featuring youngsters, Chocolate, Cycle, Kangaroo and Malabar Wedding became hits or returned average collections. These movies will soon be forgotten but their success signifies with certainty a change in mentalities. It would be nothing short of a miracle, that having chronicled the movies below on my blog, a similar prayer is answered and we get good films again. <br /><br /><br /><b>***POSSIBLE SPOILERS***</b><br />---------------------------<br /><br /><br /><b>Adaminte Variyelle(1983) -</b> A movie I saw long long back as a child, but couldn't appreciate then. This was another of K.G.George's middle-of-the-road films which found commercial success. Tells the travails of 3 women, in different social circumstances, one a socialite, another a working woman, and the third a house-maid and the indifferent men in their lives. The movie leads to a fitting end where the woman treated most unjustly by society takes her's and others like her's fates into their hands while the others succumb to the pressures of life. Also boasts of a title song, the lyrics of which make your heart cringe. Cast - Sreevidya, Suhasini, Soorya, Gopi, Mammootty, Venu Nagavally<br /><br /><b>Sreekrishna Parunthu(1984) -</b> Like the above said film, another one seen long back, but which I couldn't remember, until a friend said this was his favorite malayalam movie in the horror genre. One of Mohanlal's first leading roles, it tells the story of a casanova who is forced to reform and take up the family's tradition of magic and faith-healing, but succumbs to temptations, gets increasingly corrupted and falls into a path of self-destruction from which he cannot find redemption. The song Mothira Kaiviralukalaal from this movie, is one of my favorites these days. Direction - Vincent. Script - John Paul<br /><br /><b>Chidambaram(1985) -</b> G.Aravindan's biggest commercial success, possibly because of the presence of big names then like Gopi and Smita Patil, it tells a tale of a farm supervisor, Gopi who treats a lowly farmhand with respect and affection, and wins his trust but things get complicated when the farmhand, played by Sreenivasan marries and brings his wife, Smitha Patil to the farm. Gopi finds himself drawn towards the young woman, until one night he is caught red-handed by the farm-hand, who commits suicide. Overridden by guilt he tries his hand at alcohol, religion, spiritualism and wanderings to redeem himself without much success until he arrives at the temple at Chidambaram...<br /><br /><b>Vidheyan(1993) -</b> Adoor adapts Zacharia's short story into a superb film on the relationship between a cruel and sadistic kannadiga feudal lord, Bhaskara Pattelar played by Mammootty and a christian share-cropper played by M.R.Gopakumar. The timid Gopakumar's life enters a turmoil when his beautiful wife catches Pattelar's roving eyes - on the one hand Pattelar becomes his benefactor but it conflicts with the shame he feels towards himself. But the tide begins to turn for the Pattelar when his wife stands up to him and local christians get fed up with his tyranny. Aptly cast in the title role, Gopakumar makes a splendid debut but never got such a plum role again in his career. Cast - Mammootty, Gopakumar, Tanvi Azmi, Sabitha Anand <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBHxF8YnkqbFrgvh9Haa_BozN8wVqwsiIk8_MOMPDjLvLbc4C595-CoMYbGs3bEWS64DCtWQnY_A1WfzSgzJNV72SftRZPAaF2VymtYiSZp7RZn-61lCXEpsrtmdhdm1k3ryeGbQ/s1600-h/padam.png"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBHxF8YnkqbFrgvh9Haa_BozN8wVqwsiIk8_MOMPDjLvLbc4C595-CoMYbGs3bEWS64DCtWQnY_A1WfzSgzJNV72SftRZPAaF2VymtYiSZp7RZn-61lCXEpsrtmdhdm1k3ryeGbQ/s200/padam.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186086147989245010" /></a><b>Paadam Onne Oru Vilaapam(2004) -</b> Over the years, T.V.Chandran has again and again delivered films which have wonderfully chronicled Kerala's past and present but unfortunately never found favour with the masses. I still remember watching my first art film, his Alicinte Anvekshanam on Doordarshan as a small boy and it leaving me with more questions than answers. Nowdays I would give anything to watch that movie once more. Paadam is about a 15 year old Muslim girl, but not yet a woman, played by Meera Jasmine, eager to study, but catches the fancy of an already married man, looking for dowry to get a visa to the Gulf, gets married to him and her spirited resistance to his advances. He succeeds in quenching his lust but adds one more number to a dreadful statistic in Kerala's backward Malappuram district. Aryadan Shoukath's bold script and K.G.Jayan's brilliant photography deserves utmost praise. <br /><br /><b>Oridathoru Phayalvan(1982) -</b> The master storyteller Padmarajan, takes us to a village in Kerala where a wrestler(Rasheed) lands up on its shores, and gets involved in a petty local feud, with Nedumudi Venu playing the ace manipulator. He marries a pretty village belle, dashing the hopes of a few young men in the area, but as the girl soon finds out, marriage to a wrestler is not a bed of roses and her life goes astray. Padmarajan's films have settings, imagery, dialogues, characters and situations which make us feel like we are reading a short story than seeing a film. If ever I become a filmmaker, I would rather try to make films like he did, or make none at all. <br /><br /><b>Kallan Pavithran(1981) -</b> Supposed to be loosely inspired by the story of Madhavan Thampi, Trivandrum's famed vessel house founder, Nedumudi Venu plays Kallan Pavithran, a small-time thief with two wives, who hits pay-dirt when he visits Adoor Bhasi, a wholesaler to trade in a few vessels he has stolen. There he discovers many old vessels in the warehouse, now blackened and dirty are actually made of gold. He returns from his discovery that night, to the low point of his life, having to see his second wife in bed with Gopi. He abandons her, and she eventually marries Gopi, a widowed rice miller. Pavithran's fortune increases day by day and incurs the jealousy of his second wife who pushes her younger sister into seducing him, all of which leads to his fall. Today it seems to me that Malayalis gave Padmarajan and Bharathan the license to make any movie they wanted. Many of their stories touched upon themes like adultery, betrayal, perversion and passion - I wonder if it was the quality of that age or their genius or their knowledge that malayalis would accept a forward looking film but go back to being conservative in their real lives that gave them the courage to make all those wonderful movies.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjchD5tThs2Q5-QFpt0giVOfqrccY1YcJdcRRM_5CADKfgAjO-x9E4xW1znk4S3qRU8Hlo62sDnyI4mGOY3sa5U5xPngnfCqK9xRLmu5DyEOuOUCo0pGuHFjb0ofVuxt8Kwx2dGKg/s1600-h/mudra.png"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjchD5tThs2Q5-QFpt0giVOfqrccY1YcJdcRRM_5CADKfgAjO-x9E4xW1znk4S3qRU8Hlo62sDnyI4mGOY3sa5U5xPngnfCqK9xRLmu5DyEOuOUCo0pGuHFjb0ofVuxt8Kwx2dGKg/s200/mudra.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186086620435647586" /></a><b>Padamudra(1988) -</b> When I returned to the US in 2006, there were two Mohanlal movies, on my to-watch list for many years and I had given up all hope of finding them. Padamudra was one of them. Padamudra, tells the story of a lecherous pappadam-seller, Paandi who seduces another man's wife and as fate would have it she gives birth to a son who looks exactly like him. The paandi dies in remorse, the woman is helpless seeing the shame her son has to undergo from people making fun of him, and he gradually loses the reins to his life, all leading to a climax which sort of reminds you of Christ's end. It is a painful process, watching this film, Mohanlal puts in an intense performance that soaks through our insides with a negative energy which doesn't leave us for many days. Skillfully directed by M.D.Sukumaran. A must-watch film. Cast - Mohanlal, Nedumudi Venu, Seema<br /><br /><b>Odayil Ninne(1964?) -</b> When some of the best talents of the age - Sathyan Master, Keshavadev and K.S.Sethumadhavan united, they gave us a movie which will stand tall in Malayalam Cinema's history through the ages. A black and white film, it tells the story of a rebel, Pappu played by Sathyan who has stood up against the injustices meted out to him from a very young age and lives life on his own terms. He reaches the city and settles down to a career as a rickshaw-puller(The way he handles the rickshaw you would think he has been doing it all his life). A young girl who falls into a ditch and her widowed mother enter his life, and he becomes a father to the child and a guardian to the woman. He works day and night to provide the girl a good education, and very soon falls prey to tuberculosis but can't afford to slow down as the girl enters college and her needs increase. He slowly becomes an encumbrance for her, but even in old age and sickness, he lives life as he started out, not ready to stoop to anyone, and the film ends with a fantastic visual which surely portended the heights Malayalam Cinema was about to reach with the impending arrival of fresh talents like MT, Adoor and Aravindan to name a few. Cast - Sathyan Master, Prem Nazeer, Kaviyoor Ponnamma, Thikkurussi Sukumaran Nair<br /><br /><b>Amritham Gamaya(1987) -</b> MT Vasudevan Nair and Hariharan collaborated in this poignant tale of a principled young doctor indebted to his mother's rich but overbearing family for educating him, but in the land where he sets out to begin his career comes across a poor family which is suffering due to the callousness of his youth. His life takes a different turn, he loses all his near and dear ones but dedicates his life to making sure that he can find salvation in becoming the guardian to this family. Mohanlal virtually lives in the role of this drug-addicted doctor who loses everything but finds peace of mind in what must be called one of his career-best roles. Though I watched this movie more than a year back, this scene just doesn't fade from my mind. It is a wide angle shot of Mohanlal and Geetha(playing his fiance) looking at each other, with the distance between them signifying how far apart they have become. It is moments of silence, such pregnant pauses and stationary shots like these which so well show the character's state of mind, that is missing today. Everyone seems to want too much action nowadays. A little lingering and that becomes room for criticism...I am reminded of Aamir Khan's Taare Zameen Par and the criticism on its length! Cast - Mohanlal, Parvathi, Geetha, Vineeth, Thilakan, Devan <br /><br /><b>Meghamalhar(2000) -</b> The last middle of the road Malayalam Cinema to run well at the Kerala box office, Meghamalhar tells the tale of two people, one an advocate with a love for hindustani music married to a bank officer, and the other a writer and journalist whose husband is working in the Gulf. Circumstances happen for the two people to meet and they find they share several common interests including a love for ghazals and literature. A beautiful kind of love develops until they realize the happy marriages, spouses and children that stand to be destroyed. Scripted and Directed by Kamal, a maker of several commercial hits, this film had Biju Menon and Samyukatha Varma underplay the protagonists to perfection, ably supported by Siddique and Poornima Indrajith as their spouses.<br /><br /><b>Deshadanam(1995) -</b> One of the last malayalam films in the above said genre to succeed commrcically, this movie was aided by a touching storyline, A-class performances, haunting music and a director, Jayaraj, whose skills were at its zenith. Vijayaraghavan is a Kathakali artist in a loving family which comprises his father, wife and son. His only child is offered a life of sanyasa by the revered chief of a math and this throws them all into grief. They agree to let their son go, and turns their backs on him, and the turmoil of the child begins. Released in 1995, this film closed the period, we Malayalis till date call the golden period of Malayalam Cinema. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbF8c4b4IDobnMvr_Q0EFGmkNvLsW365GrL3r62Xks9A9G2_ZP-AlGVCe7aN0vj_4IlvLWeuEP9ercjzFLYrcjvKrXsHV9ttXC-hQNtYPi42Qav9Evwx3CWTKJT20tmUAh4E141w/s1600-h/nizhal.png"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbF8c4b4IDobnMvr_Q0EFGmkNvLsW365GrL3r62Xks9A9G2_ZP-AlGVCe7aN0vj_4IlvLWeuEP9ercjzFLYrcjvKrXsHV9ttXC-hQNtYPi42Qav9Evwx3CWTKJT20tmUAh4E141w/s200/nizhal.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186087217436101746" /></a><b>Nizhalkuthu(2001) -</b> Adoor returned after Vidheyan with the role of a lifetime for the talented Oduvil Unnikrishnan, as the last hangman of Travancore. Having lived a life of comparative affluence, thanks to the benevolence of the king, the impending freedom and the erosion of royal decree has affected the hangman but more critical to him than the troubles of his family, is the guilt that he carries, having to partake all responsibility for the executions and thus absolving the king of blame. And thus, in old age and amidst great anguish, he undertakes the journey to Ananthapuri, from his home in Kanyakumari, accompanied by his Gandhian son to complete his last undertaking. Adoor has very ably mixed myth and fantasy in a very realistic storyline. The camera work by Mankada Ravi Varma is recognition of the reason why Adoor never had anyone else visualize his scripts.<br /><br /><b>Vanaprastham(2000) -</b> Shaji N. Karun gave Mohanlal his first pure arthouse role after Vasthuhara and exacted a superlative performance from him that we seldom saw for many years before and after it. Mohanlal plays a supremely talented Kathakali artist, who fuels his creativity with alcohol, unable to give answers to his suffering wife for their penurious existence, and incapable of doting on his daughter who loves him a lot. His life takes a positive turn for a while, when the rich heiress of a royal family falls for him, but fate has a cruel surprise in store for this man who begins to lose the love for the mask which keeps him alive. Zakir Husain's background music and Santhosh Sivan's camera takes this film up several notches to a world classic.<br /><br /><b>Oridathe(1986) -</b> Aravindan tells us a tale of electricity arriving in a village in Kerala and the immediate changes that happen to its people. In today's age we will look at the fear, wonder, distrust and hatred for this modern convenience called electricity at this village with disdain but Aravindan has masterfully captured these scenes while telling in parallel a tale of fawning, lust, betrayal and murder involving Nedumudi Venu, the contractor and Sreenivasan, the local who cozies up to Venu.<br /><br /><b>Perumazhakaalam(2004) -</b> A tragic incident kills one man and threatens the life of another. A muslim woman from the banks of the Kallayi river journeys to a Brahmin woman living on the banks of the Kalpathi river, in the knowledge that this woman holds the tender thread to her husband's life. What follows is a tale of anger, despair and redemption told with great empathy and skill by Kamal in the scripts of T.A.Razak, for whom the seeds of this story originated from a newspaper clipping telling a similar story. Beautiful music, superb camera work including a breathtaking shot of a gnat clinging tightly to a leaf, while it rains heavily, possibly symbolizing the desperate struggle that Meera Jasmine takes on to save her husband. Kavya Madhavan as the Brahmin woman and Meera have given performances that will be remembered long after they leave the stage,<br /><br /><b>Idavela(1982) -</b> Four college students, lead by Ashokan bunk an NCC camp and travel to a tourist destination for a few days of fun. Desperate to get laid, but frustrated in their efforts, they narrow down their prey to a girl of their age, who is also vacationing there with her family. She takes a liking for one of the boys, played by Idavela Babu, but things take a tragic turn when ego and lust creep up and changes all their lives forever. Scripted by Padmarajan and directed by Mohan, these were films without any star power or great acting but stood tall just on the strength of a great writer's storyline.<br /><br /><b>Arapatta Kettiya Gramathil(1986) -</b> Three young men wake up on the morning after a night of drunken revelry and decide to ring in the New Year(Vishu) by visiting a brothel in a far away village. They land there amidst simmering social tensions between the Muslims and Nairs of the village, whose chieftains vie for a virgin who has arrived at the brothel. One of the young men however fall for the girl and he resolves to save her, complicating the situation. Sukumari plays the money motivated yet human in many ways madam, Mammootty, Nedumudi Venu and Ashokan play the three young men with Mammooty putting in the first of many strong performances as an aimless but proud man whose only love is towards liquor, that paved his way to superstardom, Venu plays a light-hearted advocate who is not serious about life, and Ashokan the youngest plays a man eagerly looking forward to his initiation to manhood but finds it in his desire to save the girl. Padmarajan takes us on a journey to a village, seemingly far away from civilization but showing through his characters how universal the noble and the base intentions of mankind are. The best part of this movie however is the character played by Mammootty...Padmarajan leaves space for us viewers to make our own understanding of him and his actions.<br /><br /><b>Thinkalazcha Nalla Divasam(1985) -</b> A film I saw years back and revisited just because I forgot the climax. Padmarajan proved he could write on any subject under the sun, dealing here with the matriarch of an affluent family forced to move to an old age home. A simple story but told with great sensitivity and with interesting characters, it was a movie which really launched Padmarajan's directorial craft to a level equal to his story-telling skills. Kaviyoor Ponnamma played the matriarch to perfection, a role she has reprised countless times since, Mammootty and Karamana Janardhanan Nair put in strong performances as the clashing sons, Sreevidya and Unni Mary play the influential daughters-in-law and to complete the stellar cast, Ashokan and Kukku Parameshwaran play two cousins on the verge of love. I have read recently that Padmarajan gave standing orders to the crew to be ready anytime to get the camera and lights ready to shoot the pregnant cow going to labour and delivering and it finally happened on the last day of the shoot!<br /><br /><b>Chillu(1982) -</b> Lenin Rajendran's first film holds a mirror to the college campus of the late 70's and early 80's which were totally different from the campus's we studied in. Everywhere, there are chain smoking, bearded intellectuals who are called "bujis"(yeah the term originated long back!) unlike the one or two we would find today. The Trivandrum depicted in the film, has its citizens living a laidback life, totally unlike today. There are hardly any vehicles or people on the road and the city is a picture of cleanliness. The film tells the tale of a tender-hearted young man(Ronnie Vincent) who despairs at the affection his sweetheart played by Shanthi Krishna showers on her classmate, played by Venu Nagavalli. Ronnie is perfectly cast as the child-like Manu, Shanthi as the vivacious and strong girl was a revelation and went on to play several strong characters in Malayalam Cinema and Venu as the suffering poet and painter is a study in tenderness and you feel for his plight at being just a mute observer. The film ends with a perfect symbolization of his mind with Ronnie staring at a glass paned coffin. Also deserving praise is the music, set to ONV's lyrics which are still popular.<br /><br /><b>Danny(2005) -</b> How could a man who lived through some of the big life changing political events of the 20th century not be impacted by any of them? The film begins with a narration that gives the impression, that we are about to see the life of a great man of our times, but what a pleasant surprise we are in for! Mammootty plays Daniel Thompson, an uneducated simple man whose first wife leaves him taking his daughter along, and ends up marrying a rich educated woman who is pregnant with another's child. He submits to his wife's authority, learns English, is confined to their house and watches mutely as people and things around him change. His only companion is his saxophone, which is also taken away and he ends up in a nursing home, where he strikes up a warm friendship with an old woman who also gets admitted there. T.V.Chandran has lead Kerala's art film movement from the 90's and here he proves for the umpteenth time what a master he is at his craft. The film also presents some unforgettable moments of humour, the kind we probably will never get to see again in Malayalam cinema, the subtle real kind. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG-jYnN09xb_7fTLuSRd1zLBN5XzaoiU1gBSjRaP1YN6MckxCbrUM6sFHW9ZMIGi0PnG7YXBfb2haj1smYRa7pOEsXdZWOQzU24JSSX1yripSATOl18BoojBLFIJiEUcomYaFNyA/s1600-h/vasthu.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG-jYnN09xb_7fTLuSRd1zLBN5XzaoiU1gBSjRaP1YN6MckxCbrUM6sFHW9ZMIGi0PnG7YXBfb2haj1smYRa7pOEsXdZWOQzU24JSSX1yripSATOl18BoojBLFIJiEUcomYaFNyA/s200/vasthu.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186087539558648962" /></a><b>Vasthuhara(1990) -</b> The last Mohanlal film which waited so long for me! A young bureaucrat(Mohanlal) arrives in Calcutta to help resettle long-stranded refugees who belong to farming castes from Bangladesh to the Andamans. There he chances on a bengali woman living in difficult circumstances who he realizes is the wife of his mother's brother. He sets out to help them but finds his hands tied. Her children are in trouble for taking radical political stands. He gets close to the woman,played by Neelanjana Mitra and her children(the daughter played by Neena Gupta) but they find the temporary relief in their situation provided by his arrival short-lived, as he has to leave. In one of the last scenes in the movie, we see a study in contrast, a scared and lonely Neena Gupta cries out to a helpless Mohanlal("Dada, write to me, Dada. Address, Arathy Panicker c/o Alipore Central Jail") while her mother who has struggled all her life calmly looks on. The movie, Aravindan's last, he died before he could promote the film, shows the life of Bengal's dispossessed and their hopes for a new promised land leaving behind the promise that communist West Bengal offered but never gave. <br /><br /><b>Mazha(2002) -</b> Mazha is about a young girl blessed with happiness, poetry, music and love growing into a woman who struggles to come to terms with the uprootment inflicted on her and her inability to plug the poetry, music and love within her or be able to hate her cruel husband. Lenin Rajendran has managed to extract powerful performances from a stellar cast which includes Samyuktha Varma, Biju Menon, Lal, Thilakan and Jagathi. The highlights of the movie are the very deep characters he has created and the complex relationship which plays out between Samyuktha and Lal. Like T.V.Chandran, Lenin's oeuvre of films places him on a pedestal much higher than the ones the masses have placed many of our commercial hitmakers on, who peddle crass wares today, on mere past glory.<br /><br /><b>Sukrutham(1994) -</b> Probably the most autobiographical of MT's scripts(MT fell sick in the 80's and thought he would die), this film is about an acclaimed writer played by Mammootty, suffering from an incurable disease, who begins to lose hope in survival until he arrives at a clinic run by Narendra Prasad. The writer ends up complicating the lives of the people he holds dear like his wife, friend and old lover and when he finally recovers, the realization of his act dawns on him. Mammootty put in one of his career best performances in a movie directed brilliantly by newcomer, Harikumar who sadly never returned to make another film.<br /><br /><b>Panchavadi Paalam(1984) -</b> In a village, called Airavathakuzhi with equally notorious(and hilarious) names from mythology for its residents like Dushasana Kurup, Bhoothana, Karkodakan Nair, Yoodas Tharakan, etc where every person competes with the other to show who is the most decadent, the feudalist of the region who is also the panchayat president, played by Gopi decides to rebuild an existing bridge which is in fine condition to sustain his name after his time and also to steal money, prodded by his shrewd ally(Nedumudi Venu), supposedly a social worker and his greedy wife(Sreevidya). A stinging satire on the state of our politics, this film probably marked a period in the high point of the middle of the road cinema movement, as it equally satisfied the tastes of the masses too. Unfortunately for our cinema, K.G.George soon ran out of steam following the success of this film and never again found the commercial success he previously enjoyed. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGFrkZpEbjS-aKbkKEsucu779K0JuJkVTKy2MfOfm19cKMhAeBQzubPqKANh_WBxqNd1fIY-LGqdCuW2ldtex5F76ugRW00scQzvEAlkEY3WYjC0x365sDhCcWdGM83VDQHzA2OQ/s1600-h/kodi.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGFrkZpEbjS-aKbkKEsucu779K0JuJkVTKy2MfOfm19cKMhAeBQzubPqKANh_WBxqNd1fIY-LGqdCuW2ldtex5F76ugRW00scQzvEAlkEY3WYjC0x365sDhCcWdGM83VDQHzA2OQ/s200/kodi.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186087835911392402" /></a><b>Kodiyettam(1978) - </b>A coming of age story told in the backdrop of a rural setting. A lazy village bum comes to terms with the realities of adult life belatedly through his exposure to the institution of marriage, adultery, loneliness and his fears arising out of what he sees around himself. Bharat Gopi delivered a standout debut performance as the sluggish Shankarankutty, propelling him overnight from obscurity to fame, even garnering the the National Best Actor Award. Adoor Gopalakrishnan's second film after Swayamvaram stands out for very minute and precise observations and picturization of rural life told through several well-rounded characters interspersed with brilliant yet realistic dialogues. K.P.A.C Lalitha also shows glimpses of the acting genius, most of which probably went untapped by cinema. <br /><br /><b>Kummatti(1980) - </b>G.Aravindan adapted Kavalayam Narayana Panicker's story based on the myth of the Kummatti into a visually delightful children's film. The kummatti arrives in a village where the parents make young children obey them by scaring them of the kummatti. A group of kids watch the Kummatti with curiosity and trepidation until they find out that he loves them. He magically transforms them into animals and back into human form but one child who was made a dog misses the transformation back to humanity and has to live a year in this fashion, until the Kummatti returns next year. The kummatti returns next year and converts him back to child, but the torrid experience has wisened the boy and he performs an act of brotherhood for a fellow animal. Shaji Karun's camera brilliantly captures the arid beauty of Palakkad. The film is also a treasure trove of folk songs written by Kavalam. <br /><br /><b>Oridam(2005) - </b> The film tells the story of a prostitute struggling to come out of her profession. She is a young woman with a lot of aspirations and dreams which don't die despite countless disappointments and frustrations. Geethu Mohandas who speaks English with a western accent in real life, plays this woman who spends her nights on the street and services craven men of all classes with boldness and brilliance that has to be seen to be believed. Her body language and expressions are flawless whether stifling her tears and anger to stich together a plastic smile or while lounging on the roadside imagining herself to be one of the fancy faces on the billboard. The presence of an NGO which inculcates into these helpless women the nobility of their profession adds a tinge of satire to the proceedings. I saw ads on Manoramaonline requesting public support to complete filming of this work...kudos to director cum producer, Pradeep Nair for finally managing to fulfill his creation. <br /><br /><b>Eli Pathayam(1981) - </b> Karamana got the role of a lifetime to play the last link in a crumbling feudal system, unable to accept, comprehend, adjust or rebel against the changes happening to him and the society around him. He is obediently served by a younger sister(Sharada), fated to remain a spinster, who breaks down gradually under the weight of physical and mental exertions leaving her brother to fend for himself. He miserably gives up without a fight. Adoor brilliantly uses a rat trapped in a mousetrap to signify the microcosm of Karamana's universe and the ancient tharavadu and the people living within it as a bigger mousetrap to signify the macrocosm of Karamana's deteriorating existence. Possibly, Adoor's best film ever, this was the time the parallel malayalam cinema reached the zenith of its artistic brilliance, and even came to represent the face of Indian cinema to art lovers, the world over.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie2E2YhqOCW7ks58yATmql_5oP8vUIuHWmAh05yLzBlLx8G5dw-cHGg9m5bL8wUHdLO4GSghJoEpj-5pxq16Jkg-R-V9XSTugb9X_7ytJv45ebVZCXIRfrhZgNreRDk4wJJbv_1g/s1600-h/katha.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie2E2YhqOCW7ks58yATmql_5oP8vUIuHWmAh05yLzBlLx8G5dw-cHGg9m5bL8wUHdLO4GSghJoEpj-5pxq16Jkg-R-V9XSTugb9X_7ytJv45ebVZCXIRfrhZgNreRDk4wJJbv_1g/s200/katha.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186088076429560994" /></a><b>Kathavasheshan(2004) - </b> Very fittingly, the last film I watched. This is a movie every man has to watch. This is cinematic art at its pinnacle. A young man, played by Dileep commits suicide. His fiance(Jyothirmayi) has met him just once but that tells her he is not a man who could commit suicide. She is interested in finding about his past. She meets his family and the friends he made in the places he lived and pieces together the picture of a lively man with a sense of humour but who believes he has to react to injustices and alleviate the misfortunes of others. All this takes him to his logical end, an end which puts all of us who make the society he lived in, on the dock. T.V.Chandran's peerless direction and skillful scripting which expertly combines the best multi-person narrative ever depicted on screen with interesting flashbacks that takes the story forward to the present, Isaac Thomas Kottukapally's melodious background music which melts seamlessly into the images on screen, K.G.Jayan's camera which brilliantly captures the director's vision have given us a classic we are in danger of forgetting. On the acting front, Dileep banishes all doubts in my head of his being able to play a character with several shades to him, supported ably by several actors of immense capability. The movie shifts seamlessly from locations as diverse as rural Kerala, Trivandrum, Andhra, Gujarat and Calcutta. Listen to the song, Mere Duniya Mein from this movie on musicindiaonline. Possibly, the best malayalam film I have watched!<br />-------------------<br /><br /><br /><b>P.S</b> - <i>The most difficult post I have had to write in this blog. I kept pushing off this task because I felt like a small child staring at a mountain and unsure of being able to climb it. The movies I have chronicled are milestones in Kerala's cultural history, and the men behind it giants in intellect. I asked myself if I am competent enough to comment on these great works. But having finished this task, I keep thinking, how good are we as a people if we keep saying these works cannot be bettered? How much can we achieve if we shudder at the inability to continue their glorious legacy? Aren't we all taking the easy way out when we deal with the talents bestowed on us? Each time I sit to blog and give up, a serpentine question rears its inescapable head and asks me,"Dum nahi he kya bache?" That difficulty with self-doubting has helped me realize that unless I write and put it out to the world, I will always feel like the small child who keeps wondering what it would be like, to look from the peak. Several times in this post, my memory failed me and probably so did my analysis. Going back and watching the movies was also not an option as I didn't have the time. So please feel free to correct me, in places I may have gone wrong. Am dedicating this post to all the great malayalam film directors and scriptwriters of another age who would be saddened at the fall of today's cinema and our people's cultural standards. If there are lovers of good cinema around and are bloggers, let us give confidence and encouragement to the good malayalam films that are coming out today and give them maximum publicity on our blogs. This is of utmost importance because all offbeat films fall awfully short on budgets, by the time they are ready for release, to be able to do the crucial advertising that is so necessary in today's world to succeed. And so ends my movie watching spree - hindi, english and tamil movies too were part of this. There are lakhs of bloggers out there to write about those. But we are only a few thousand malayali bloggers. Growth starts from the roots. Our aspirations have helped us branch out in all directions. A time has come to feed the leaves we sprouted, back to our roots. In the midst of all this overwhelming materialism, can the youth of Kerala manage a return to intellectualism?</i>Jibyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07324353796946088382noreply@blogger.com47tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8700519.post-47308009454269942022008-03-31T02:21:00.000-07:002008-03-31T11:18:45.888-07:00If You Didn't Know...<a href="http://talkingimages.blogspot.com/2008/03/tynkam-tag.html">MindCurry</a> has tagged me. As the good blogger, I tag along. Good timepass, tags are, and so I was wondering if tags had lost the fancy of the blogworld, having been out of circulation for long. <br /><br />1. LAST MOVIE YOU SAW IN A THEATER: The Other Boleyn Girl. Am a sucker for historical movies and so this satisfied me. Yet this movie could have been better. Stars Natalie Portman, Eric Bana and Scarlett Johansson. Went in with a "Troy" hangover expecting Bana to repeat his Hector act which didn't happen. Portman continues to grow on me.<br /><br />2. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING? Several. I am on an Amazon shopping spree now. Next two months are dedicated solely to reading. One of them is Catch-22.<br /><br />3. FAVORITE BOARD GAME? Monopoly. But that was long back.<br /><br />4. FAVORITE MAGAZINE? Late 80's - Misha, Early 90's - Reader's Digest, Late 90's - India Today, Early 2000 - , Lately - Time<br /> <br />5. FAVORITE SMELLS? Smell of the soil after rain. Nowadays the smell of the roses that my neighbour has planted. <br /><br />6. FAVORITE SOUND? Streams with rocks littered in its bed. K.J.Jesudas's voice. <br /><br />7. WORST FEELING IN THE WORLD? Recurring failures in fighting and then succumbing to my weaknesses.<br /><br />8. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU THINK OF WHEN YOU WAKE? Gosh...I am so tired.<br /><br />9. FAVORITE FAST FOOD PLACE? So many. Earlier used to be thattukada's. Nowadays it is Panda Express. <br /><br />10. FUTURE CHILD'S NAME? I might call it Nano and the one after that Pico. Any problems?<br /><br />11. FINISH THIS STATEMENT. "IF I HAD A LOT OF MONEY I'D...? I have a lot of money now and I don't do anything with it! So this question is irrelevant.<br /><br />12. DO YOU DRIVE FAST? No, I don't. I hate speed. I can't bear to think of killing another human being because of my carelessness. All said, I am a swapnajeevi and prone to absent-mindedness. <br /><br />13. DO YOU SLEEP WITH A STUFFED ANIMAL? Yeah! My pillow...I cuddle up to it, when I feel I want a little love. I think I do it when I miss my mom and grandma.<br /><br />14. STORMS-COOL OR SCARY? Cool. Rain makes me poetic.<br /><br />15. WHAT WAS YOUR FIRST CAR? Saturn SL2. Everyone said the name was inauspicious. But I took good care of it and later dumped it on my sis. She hated it.<br /><br />16. FAVORITE DRINK? Tea has always been a favorite. In between there was beer. <br /><br />17. FINISH THIS STATEMENT, "IF I HAD THE TIME I WOULD ..... I had a lot of time in the world. I wasted all of it. I stare at its paucity today.<br /><br />18. DO YOU EAT THE STEMS ON BROCCOLI? Yes. Beef and Broccoli...yummy!<br /><br />19. IF YOU COULD DYE YOUR HAIR ANY COLOR, WHAT WOULD BE YOUR CHOICE? The day will come for all of us. And you and I will say Black. <br /><br />20. NAME ALL THE DIFFERENT CITIES/TOWNS YOU HAVE LIVED IN. Trivandrum, Delhi, Los Angeles, San Diego. Trivandrum was growth and stagnation, Delhi was adventure and failure, Los Angeles was hard-work and self-discovery, San Diego was survival and loneliness.<br /><br />21. FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH? I love to play sports. I hate watching them now...maybe its part of growing old.<br /><br />22. ONE NICE THING ABOUT THE PERSON WHO SENT THIS TO YOU. The most pleasant surprise in blogging was to discover that he was one of my heroes from school. He wouldn't want me to reveal more. What makes him a hero today though, is his crusade to improve Kerala.<br /><br />23. WHAT'S UNDER YOUR BED? Books, that fell off, in my sleep.<br /><br />24. WOULD YOU LIKE TO BE BORN AS YOURSELF AGAIN? No. I am not a good human being. I wish I could be simple and pure at heart - like some of my good friends.<br /><br />25. MORNING PERSON, OR NIGHT OWL? Night. Working life has robbed the mornings but gifted me with nights.<br /><br />26. OVER EASY, OR SUNNY SIDE UP? Never was an egg fan until recently. I love the varieties of egg preparations in American breakfasts.<br /><br />27. FAVORITE PLACE TO RELAX? The upper terrace at my house in tvm. I spend an hour there every night when I am home.<br /><br />28. FAVORITE PIE? I hate pies.<br /><br />29. FAVORITE ICE CREAM FLAVOR? Not an icecream fan anymore. But chocobars tempt me.<br /><br />30. OF ALL THE PEOPLE YOU TAGGED THIS TO, WHO'S MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND FIRST? I tag <b>BVN, Preetha, Jina, Dhanush, Syam</b> and anyone else who wants to have a go at this. Whoever responds first gets a free ticket to Mohanlal's College Kumaran.Jibyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07324353796946088382noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8700519.post-58279366538332224972008-03-26T00:29:00.000-07:002008-03-26T11:41:58.726-07:00The Erstwhile City Of God...Once there was a sparsely populated town in Kerala. There descended upon it, capable men who built institutions. Around these institutions like the VSSC, CDS, University of Kerala, Agricultural University, Keltron, DD, AIR, RRL, CTCRI, Libraries, Govt. Bodies and think-tanks, colleges, schools, museums, stadiums, theatres, etc grew a modern city of salaried working class and their children. We lovingly call this city by various names - Trivandrum, Thiruvananthapuram and Ananthapuri. Like everything sustained by human effort, these institutions stagnated. One fine day came Globalization. The people were ready for it but not the un-extinct dinosaurs who ran these institutions. Money became the sole-motivating aim for the masses and they looked elsewhere for succour. These institutions cried foul at the hydra that was changing people's lifestyles. They stagnated further when public interest in them dipped. The replacements that globalization threw up for them weren't anything admirable either. A city is known for the institutions it is proud of. What happens to a city when the institutions it was once proud of stagnate? What happens to a city where the sole-touted institution is the Technopark which beats just to the tune of money?<br /><br />Is it not time to redefine socialism? Socialism has become a dirty word. Why shouldn't socialism from now on just be about awareness of social, economic and environmental problems and implementing solutions to it? Why keep adhering to the age-old inequalities of income argument? For me, the biggest injustice perpetrated is the tendency to teach children to play it safe. The most painful aspect of a socialist system is the difficulty in getting a new initiative approved. Socialism always begins with a crusader's zeal to improve and change the existing setup. But it soon settles down into a system where the men who take charge of the social setup will not allow anyone to change this status-quo. The collaboration of interest groups works at all levels in Kerala - everybody be it the communist, the congressman, the trader, the worker, the church, the media, the intellectual - everyone who is a part of the current system and deriving benefits from it, is never motivated to change anything. This proves that interest groups don't need capitalism to flourish. An interest group works transparently in capitalism while it functions with brute power in socialism.<br /> <br />The only solution is to set individuals free. In Kerala, every organization has to function with interference from the top and bottom. Administrators fail to implement latest technologies, hire and fire competent/incompetent staff, streamlining the functioning of their fiefdoms, losing precious time running from pillar to post for clearing payments and bureaucratic approval. I know of an example of a person who succeeded when he was liberated. In 1998, staring at a system which he knew would deny him any chances of getting to the top of the university hierarchy despite his credentials, he interviewed for and was put in charge of a miserably performing academic institution affiliated to KU. Funded and answerable only to the UGC, functioning independent of the politicians who remote-control the university, he very quickly transformed it into the first-ranking institution of its nature in the country. He succeeded where many people capable of doing such stuff floundered elsewhere. I know that person well - he is my dad. I wouldn't say he was lead by high ideals - he was motivated by ambition and a fierce determination to stand above his peers.<br /><br />From my last visit to Trivandrum, I am convinced that what Trivandrum needs more than all the requisites for economic growth and development is the revitalization of existing institutions. The reason I am proud of Kerala is that in all purposes it is a distinct entity yet seamlessly fitting within India. We have our own distinctive social system and problems, film industry, literature, subject experts in all areas, and many other parameters for being evaluated as a "country". Once, the colleges in Trivandrum like University College, Arts College, Ivanios, etc produced most of Kerala's intellectual, cultural and literary giants. Today these colleges are in a state of disuse with several vacant seats for the many courses they conduct. In their place has come up self-financing engineering colleges named after their "reputable" wealthy patrons producing graduates who have learnt in 4 years what it means to have a good time forgetting all the good things they learnt in school of social responsibility and the power of the inner self.<br /><br />Some of the most talented Malayalis I have met here in the US and who will go on to lead a successful and meaningful life were people not motivated by money. They took degrees in pure sciences and arts, but developed great interest in their fields of study, that opportunities never ceased to shower on them. And our well-educated malayali frog-in-the-well parents think they know it all while prodding their unknowledgeable wards into engineering and medicine. The US is in such a strong position because of people of all talents and dispositions. A US citizen encourages activities in their communities by going out of the way to participate or encourage. The world over, intelligent societies and individuals are realizing that there is no natural or man-made wealth worthy left fighting for. I guess the blame rests on our heavily stratified society, that malayalis, whatever be the colour of their collar, can never afford to take a break from wasteful competition, and perpetrate the same mentalities on the next generation too.<br /><br />There exists today no real setup for the fostering of talented people. I knew people in my father's generation from such varied fields as zoology to space science. Today all the "successful" people I know are MBA's, engineers or doctors. People drill into their children's heads that every other profession which earns lesser is the failure of the social animal. To meet and to be in the company of writers, policemen, researchers, etc if I have to climb one ladder down in the social ladder, I would gladly do it because these are the people I would enjoy talking to. Do we want Trivandrum to be a one-dimensional city like kochi? I wonder if there is anything left in that crumbling mega shopping paradise which is not subject to crass commercialization.<br /><br />In a few months i will go back to being a citizen of trivandrum...i feel sad at the decline of the cultural, academic, athletic and research bodies - both govt and private owned. I have second thoughts now on the so-called urban development we are seeing in our country...ultimately everything needs support from the ordinary man and good people who can rise up to take visionary leadership. But the good people are all in useless engineering colleges out of touch with the subjects they study or the many other subjects in the world. There will be very few left to provide quality leadership in the next generation. I am woefully out of touch with trivandrum...my last visit there, about three months back didn't evoke any nostalgia. It felt like I was looking at a city of tired and haggard people. A fresh start can come only from the schools. When I return, I hope to find and band with like-minded people who can carry a message to our young ones on the dangerous ability of conventional beliefs to throttle their potential. <br /><br /><b>P.S -</b> <i>For long, I have stayed away from writing on the world about me. I was preoccupied with my own struggles...that difficult phase is hopefully over. Around the net, I have read several brilliant people propose solutions to propel Trivandrum's development. I am of the firm belief that nothing will change in this firmly-entrenched system unless we can mentor today's school children to replace the adults of today. The radicals and progressive thinkers of my father's generation, all of them - people who stood up to Indira Gandhi's Emergency, run the show in Trivandrum today. In their race to the top, all of them conveniently dropped their ideals. But I can't help wondering if we are all going to go their same way. I have frequently heard people cite the example of the freedom struggle where men and women came up from nowhere to give leadership and shape a national movement at a time when all hope was lost. In these modern times of Free Speech, Expression and Opportunity should we just wait for that dark hour and then get into the act? Please don't hesitate to add your thoughts and disagreements to this post. </i>Jibyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07324353796946088382noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8700519.post-36445332004772582342008-03-10T21:17:00.000-07:002008-03-11T13:04:50.494-07:00A Fulfilled Love...The airport was my gateway, away from the people, away from the present, away from the impotency that gnawed at my existence. A funny thought occurred then. How would it feel to be trapped here? A Thrishanku Swargam repeating in modern times. Oh, wait a minute, didn't it happen recently...wasn't that what "The Terminal" was all about. So much for original thought, I mused. <br />"Valmiki, Spielberg and me...and why not?" I said to myself, the mock seriousness of it all, managing to please me.<br />And then, I saw her. She had a small child in her arms, another tugged at her shirt. She hadn't seen me. But she would. She was headed to the same gate. I didn't know what would be appropriate - to beckon her, hide from her or ignore her. But I continued to stare. And size her up. She hadn't changed a bit. It looked like her husband kept her happy and the kids kept her busy. I had thought of her often. But why had a bloated, unhappy figure of her's filled my imagination. Was it closure I wanted or vengeance? Or were those thoughts, ever about her? Wasn't it I, who needed to see her that way, to justify why life couldn't have taken any other route, save the one I am travelling on now. <br /><br />She chose the row of seats, right across mine. With difficulty, she got the children to sit. The older of the two, unsaddled his miniature backpack and began to unload his toys. <br />"No monu! Just take one out. Amma won't clean up after you. And you won't get new toys if you leave any here!"<br />The boy seemed to comply, for the time being.<br />She turned her attention to the infant. It sat placidly ready to go off to sleep. She slipped a milk bottle in through the child's lips. <br />Her handbag still clung to her shoulders. She took it off and rifled through its contents to ensure their passports and tickets were safe. A quick glance at a mirror to ensure her rudimentary makeup was intact followed. She looked at me, staring unabashedly at her. A wave of self-consciousness hit her, men did this to her always, she would have reacted differently earlier. She brushed her hair backwards, pulled her shirt at its hem, and pinched her jeans down at the knees, cloaking her bared ankles. I took note of her inconvenience and looked away. It was her turn now to stare at me.<br /> <br />"Is this real? Is this youuuu!"<br />"Yes, me." I replied uncomfortably. I slowly moved over to take a seat besides her.<br />"My god, you have become so fat." There was no indication of our unsavoury past in her initial disposition to me. It was just like two friends meeting in a long time. <br />"You are still the same." I offered back.<br /><br />"Which flight are you taking?"<br />"British," I answered, "but mine is only due in 4 hours."<br />"Mine is this one which boards next, BA4517" she said. Was I relieved to hear that? But she looked genuinely happy to see me.<br /><br />"What are you doing now?" She was eager to know of my life after college.<br />"I am traveling, as you see."<br />"On work, I believe."<br />"No - for pleasure."<br />"For how long?"<br />"It's been going on for some time."<br />"You never worked?"<br />"I work a few months. Then travel till the money is gone."<br />"So what happens when no one will take you?"<br />"As you scorned me in the old days, then there is father's money - to mine."<br />"What of all those ambitions?"<br />"None - whatsoever. All gone."<br />"Hmmm."<br />Her face was expressionless. Behind that facade was she envious, was she disappointed, or was she sorry for me, I thought. Or, did she care anymore? <br /><br />"Are you working?"<br />"No. My husband earns enough for both of us."<br />"And you are happy?"<br />"Yes, as happy as I could be."<br />"Are you happy?" she threw the question back at me.<br />"I don't know." I had uttered it with a finality, that ended the conversation. My life was my business. She would get no answer for it. But I have to answer for it to so many people. How different was she from all of them? <br />She went back to tending her children. I debated returning to my seat. I couldn't move. My mind rushed back to the time, when she was a dubious part of my existence, and never found an abiding place in it. <br /><br />I couldn't remember when she first caught my roving eye. They blinked before resting on her. She wasn't the most attractive, or the friendly kind, yet something about her caught my fancy. I never spoke to her alone, I was part of a gang of boys who kept me busy with myriad schemes to wile away time, but my eyes talked to her, and hers to mine, furtively yet loaded with meanings and nuances. We were enemies in a sense, trying to guess each other's motives, trying to win over each other, but not yielding a bit of the safe ground we were on. That year went by, and the next, she grew prettier, her figure trimmed and curved in lines that now drove other eyes besides mine, some in silent, others in loud admiration. Our gazes seldom caught each others now, mine still darted with a playful abandon about her, that seared me and infuriated her. It was obvious that she couldn't wait any longer for me to make up my mind, there were others who waited to jump at the chance, the electric youthfulness that pulsed and glowed throughout her body had made her a new woman, one with desires and cravings that she no longer felt the need to bottle. And yet I twiddled. I had much to answer for in life, I had built up a reputation for wisdom, goodness and ambition...I was loved and venerated by one and all- I wouldn't ruin all that or my family's hopes for me on a girl in whom all I saw, was the answer to a wild craving for love and sex. Yet the heart cringed each time an advance was made at her, and at the blush or smile that fleeted across her face in unabashed pleasure of recognition. And yet she gave in to no man in college, which pleased me, but for how long, I wondered.<br /><br />The remembrance of that misty dawn, now hangs on my clouded brain, like a shroud that parted our eyes, from even stealing glances at each other. It was a Saturday morning that I rose up early for cricket practice. I looked forward to the pleasure of a drive with the fresh morning breeze on my face, and the sweat running down the same face, as i swatted and drove the cricket ball. My bike, surged through the empty morning road, the temptation of a hot tea and a cigarette to ring in the day, was too hard to resist. I parked and ordered at the roadside tea-stall, the auspicious first customer of the day. But it was not to be. A familiar figure gingerly walking down the steps of the shop, and away towards the bus stand, caught my eyes. The Shop. That shop. An unspoken word in our city. A place where the decadent old and pulsating new money came together in a perfect harmony, a polluted channel for all the vulgar vices that the self-righteous society of my class strove to curtail. My heart skipped several beats on that lifeless road. And then it roared back to life. I ran. I only know, that I ran. I had no desire for the cafeine or the nicotine, for all the pent-up oxytocin of the years came gushing out in a violent river that desperately knew it would find no ocean to sink into. <br /><br />Her hair was disheveled. And panic was writ large on her face. I had my answer. My heart sunk and with it my lungs which throbbed for breath.<br />"What were you doing there?"<br />"None of your business."<br />"You better answer me."<br />"I don't have to."<br />"I will ruin you." The manic rage in me, threatened to get physical.<br />"As you wish." Her cheekiness broke my manly muster. Tears flooded my cheek.<br />"You are a slut. That is what you are. A slut."<br /><br />"Are you done? Now may I speak." Her calm voice was a repudiation of the menace that still raged menacingly within me.<br />"Yes," I choked up a feeble reply.<br />"I have seen what money can do in this city. Look at your exclusive groups of rich boys and rich girls with their shiny cars, laptops, expensive clothes and paid holidays. I also want all that and more. Do you know what it is to not get what you want?"<br />"But-but, why sell yourself?"<br />"well, that's the choice, I had to make."<br />"But you could have got a job soon. And you would have all the money you need."<br />"What job? Tell me one person in college who has a job in hand. And what do you know of my family?"<br />"You, you could have waited for me."<br />"Tell me honestly. What is it that you want? Your wants - are they any different from those men?"<br />I didn't have an answer to any of her questions. She had answers to mine. It was all over. The first love. The one lasting itch down there. The longest infatuation. Would I know that feeling again?<br /><br />My thoughts came back to the present. Once, there was a high probability that this woman, sitting by me would have been my wife. And the children mine. I laughed at the adolescent thought. She looked up from the note she was scribbling on.<br />"You went back to the old days, ha?"<br />An embarrassed smile escaped me. She went back to her note.<br /><br />Some months had passed. It was a New Year midnight. We guys were at the beach and had checked into a hotel for the night. A mad melee of tourists, locals and plainclothesmen had escaped to this place, that would put to shame the craziest lunatic asylum. I don't remember when I passed out or what happened afterwards. By next morning, everyone in class knew, save me. She was late. The teacher let her in, without questions. The girl at her bench, quickly moved to avoid letting her in, and so did the others who had a vacant space to fill.<br />"Here, take mine."I offered and slid to the other end.<br />"Wanna escort me, next new year?" a voice called out aloud, ignoring the presence of the teacher.<br />Manufactured sneers, all around.<br />Thud! The slap landed on my face, before I even saw it coming. The class was silenced.<br />"How could you do this to me? Did I deserve so cruel a vengeance?" her voice momentarily broke the silence.<br />My eyes blinked at her. Not a word could come out.<br />She rose, and walked out, head held high, showing no shame, knowing none else to blame.<br />The last sensation she left me with, was also like the first. But when my eyes stopped blinking, she was gone. And I didn't pursue her. <br />She never came back. I heard she took the final exams next year, with the junior batch. <br />She was an episode, I never forgot. She taught me, what it is to want, and not get. She also left me with a question to answer. A question I get often, but an answer, I hopelessly still search for.<br /><br />My lips moved to silently mimic that question, "But why?"<br />She was tearing up the paper, away from my eyes, which caught that action almost on the tangent. I had trained my eyes to dog her and after years it still obeyed that old command. <br />"Listen. I am sorry about what happened." Her words spread through me, like a cool morning breeze of many years back.<br />"No, don't be. If ever I wanted to see you, I wanted it to be this way." For long, I had carried the spite, of a loss and insult, I had itched to see her as a bitch, snob and destitute. Instead I only saw a wife, mother and woman. <br />"I have to go now." She rose in unnatural hurry.<br />"I guess, we will not see each other again, ever." What a fine actor, I am, I thought. Just letting her off, that easily.<br />"I guess not." <br /><br />When she walked out on me once more, I pieced together the torn pieces of paper, she left on the floor.<br />"To the only one, I truely loved before my kids came: I don't owe the world any explanations. But I owe you one. In slapping you, I slapped the world which dared question my actions."<br />Every act of hers, was the answer I should have given. Maybe that was her purpose in my life - to show me that answer. I was finally at peace. <br /> <br /><br /><b>P.S -</b> <i>It has been a long while. And it has been frustrating. And several false starts. To top it off, I was obsessed with writing a love story. I suspect I may have diverted from that goal. Maybe because I am a person who had, has and might never known/find true love for a woman (this sentence would need explanation to the future wifey:). I began the story in the third person. And to be frank, I was scared of personal identification and because the first person is the toughest act in fiction to carry through. But then, I thought who was I trying to fool here. For those, especially friends and family, who seek autobiographical elements in this, I say they are wasting time. The characters and incidents here if at all true, have been twisted and fictionalized - and yet, if someone sees a part of mine or their life played out here, I say it is just incidental (Okay, I need to learn from my protagonists and not be answerable to anyone:). I however will admit to one minor source of inspiration - some recent sex scandals in Kerala. As always when I take on fiction, criticism and feedback most welcome.</i>Jibyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07324353796946088382noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8700519.post-49710169347658181172008-02-11T22:44:00.000-08:002008-02-12T16:07:43.590-08:00How Blogging Clicked...For MeSometime last year, I read a survey conducted by some magazine, on the most overrated things/people/products in the universe, and not entirely to my surprise, I found blogging to be one of the winners to this dubious hall of fame - while only a few years back, it was hailed as the voice of the common man. For a while, I have been reading quite a few bloggers say they are quitting. Some attributed it to pointlessness, no ideas to write about, lack of comments, not knowing who their audience was, insipid life, etc, etc. And yesterday, <a href="http://poomanam.blogspot.com/">Silverine</a> sent me a post from a very good blogger, where on reading backwards I discovered him to be having some of these problems. I replied to her, wondering how many more such bloggers are lost in this race for instant gratification.<br /><br />Many people tell me I am a good blogger. I am happy with the compliment. But I have known deep inside that it was just a case of being at the right place at the right time. It was a case of accidentally doing some things right, and then accidentally using the right tools to pierce through the numerous blocks and barriers that soon came my way. And so, after a long time, I again thought of devoting a post, to this hobby, which fortuitously came to me at a time, when my self-esteem stood low at having to become an average programming zombie in corporate madhouses, and having only myself to blame despite knowing that several better but improbable careers like politics, government service, etc would have suited me better. If you are a new blogger, or one on the verge of quitting, despite having a love for writing, hopefully reading this post will give you some new ideas to start over.<br /><br />1. <b>Incubation</b> - For the first few months of my blogging, I kept it to myself. When I go back and read, I find my first pieces of writing to be gems in dull and long rambling prose. In those months, I did not know of such a thing as blogosphere. A blog was merely a diary open to public eyes which funnily contrasted with my long-held opinion of a diary being a very private object of one's affections. When I gained confidence, I slowly let word out to my classmates, who suddenly had begun to clamour on why my long emails to our yahoogroups had dried up, and which for a long time(6 years) had been my sole forum to write. Comments didn't matter to me, I was just happy to do writing in the public domain, and gleeful that my name popped up more in google search and showed up alongside my dad's. I would have innocently kept to this idea of blogging, for quite a while, and probably even given it up, once ridden of the novelty until <a href="http://dlc22.blogspot.com/">Neil</a> and Silverine left the first outside comments here. Through Neil, I discovered the <a href="http://www.cs.princeton.edu/~mp/malayalam/blogs/">Kerala Blogroll</a>.<br /><br />2. <b>Enable Your Site Feed</b> - I think Blogspot by default sets it to a "No"! You never know from where readers will land up. And do refrain from using gaudy templates, with colours that give readers a headache.<br /><br />3. <b>Join the Kerala Blogroll</b> - Though it isn't in me to be parochial, it is hard to track all the indian bloggers. Kerala Blogroll offered me a good collection of malayali bloggers, but now I rarely find much good stuff there from new hands. If you are writing well, you might catch the interest of many visitors there. I am thankful to Dr.Manoj who has for so many years kept his Melam feed aggregator running, considering the time he has to devote to his research and teaching, and brought us bloggers, so many readers.<br /><br />4. <b>Build a Community</b> - Through Silverine's blogroll and the Kerala Blogroll, I found a set of young, recently begun bloggers like me, and we made a formidable online community. All of us posted once a week, left comments for each other and reading their blogs widened my vision on how a blog could overflow, not merely encompass. This collaborative success had solidified my thinking that an online initiative can be successful only if it is interactive. Some of those folks like Anish, Geo, Thanu and Praveen seem to have given up, some like Jithu and Flash have become irregular, but the 6 months I was active in that fold was a period of immense creative energy, the only time I really felt beholden to my set of readers. Back then, I would really felt rotten if I hadn't written a post, a week. What new bloggers need to do, is build communities, especially with other starters like them. Visit people whose blogs you like and leave comments. Some of them will keep coming back. For me personally, I content myself with a set of few blogs I read. I don't go out scouting for new blogs to read now, sometimes I am such a jerk that I don't even respond to the gesture of fellow bloggers who leave comments here - I wish I could go back to the days I devoted a solid hour daily to reading blogs. Silverine, on her part sends us some good reads once in a while and she says that is her new year resolution to uncover more new bloggers. I wish I had her tremendous energy, but this is what bloggers need to do, watch out for each other.<br /><br />5. <b>New Challenges</b> - The only way to continue blogging is to put your mind to work looking for happenings around you or to look for new writing challenges. I chose the second route because the first didn't appeal to me - my social life in the US just hasn't satisfied me and incidents around me just don't inspire...its another story that years later I will look at these days differently and gather a different perspective. I too have said here two years back that I am quitting. It was yet another knee-jerk reaction from me. I stopped saying that after quite a few writing ideas appeared to me out of thin air. When I first went hunting into blog-world, I realized there was no limit or a defined set of topics, to what a blog should keep to. Your talent is your only limit, and finding out what those talents are, has been a reason I am still here. The best challenge, I have thrown at myself emerged from my discovery of this blogger at Kerala Blogroll, and on reading <a href="http://wordmusings.blogspot.com/2006/08/reason-to-write.html">this post</a>. I had suddenly discovered somebody who shared my aspirations and frustrations. A new frontier was suddenly mine to conquer through blogging - fiction - and having done that, I wanted a new challenge. And it was right before my eyes for many years, but I never took it up, for fear of failure - writing humour in a conversational tone. For years Silverine had done it, and I would sit open-mouthed when not laughing, reading her funny posts at Poomanam, wondering how she did it so regularly, week after week and month after month. Of course, I had written posts on funny incidents and anecdotes, but none of that really landed the knockout punch I was looking for, until I tried the conversational format out, last Feb. Now I have a new challenge set for me, writing that needs analysis, research and a lot of people skills - it goes beyond blogging, but I believe I have done some of the groundwork here. <a href="http://ashok.loyolites.com/">Ashok</a>, another blogger, has become a friend, philosopher and guide on this mission, I know not what will happen, and where it will take me.<br /><br />6. <b>Love Writing</b> - I have seen people begin blogs for many reasons - but I will list one reason I am still here. I love to write. A well-written post lands me high for a few days, before seemingly succumbing to the laws of gravity and dropping me down with a resounding thud, back to hard ground. The fall hurts and sometimes I stick to the idea of staying on level ground and enjoying freedom from creative foment. But, I keep coming back and looking for new highs to conquer with the knowledge that the fall which will follow has only helped me get better at my craft besides quickly busting any pretensions of having cooked up a timeless creation. Most people begin blogs itching to write something but most give up for other reasons. So don't ever forget that reason which brought you to this endeavor in the first place - keep that flame alive when it begins to flicker.<br /><br />I don't know if this post took up a preachy, moralistic or self-congratulatory tone - but that was never the intention. Your motivation for blogging may be different or you may or may not be the target audience. But if the few tips here from hindsight helps budding bloggers, to break through the millions of blogs that have served more to obscure and stifle, rather than project the good blogging seeds - I will be thankful at having partly repaid a debt to this hobby that gave me the courage to honestly face my aspirations and fears...and so this post. Happy Blogging!Jibyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07324353796946088382noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8700519.post-44358107129442274782008-02-05T11:26:00.000-08:002008-02-05T21:30:51.362-08:00Oru Paathiriyum Rande Kunjaadukalum...<b>Jagathy:</b> "Kalyaana kuri vaangikkan pokuvaano"<br /><b>Mohanlal:</b> "Athe"<br /><b>Jagathy:</b> "Pathu kalpanakal ariyaamo"<br /><b>Mohanlal:</b> "Illa"<br /><b>Jagathy:</b> "Ennaal poyitte kaaryamilla"<br />That was Jagathy in a short but funny role, whose desire to get married is repeatedly foiled by his parish priest, Thilakan in the movie Koodum Thedi, for not knowing the Ten Commandments.<br /><br />Recently I had to accompany my sis to our parish in Trivandrum, to get the kuri for her. And it turned out to be more hilarious than I ever expected. Going to this church and meeting priests from this church was a tense affair for me, because I was irregular for mass, had bunked sunday school and we never made it for their prayer group sessions. <br /><br />The priest handed out a four page form to fill out. My sis is dismayed as it is in Malayalam, not her strength by any means. What surprised me is she ventures to fill out the form in malayalam, ignoring my entreaties to get it done with, in english. I decided to watch mutely, the fun that was to follow. Yes becomes "Uvve" in malayalam and No becomes "Illa" while filling forms. But my sis wrote "Aaa"(her colloquial for Yes), and when I broke down laughing, she changes it hastily to "Athe". The questions the form asked were funny too but i forget them. And where her answer was negative she writes "Alla", firmly in the grip of colloquial usage. Gleefully, I let her leave it that way, hoping the priest would spot it. She took the obsession with writing in malayalam to dizzying heights by attempting to write our US address in malayalam and when she came to the words "apartment", the helpless look on her face was a moment to treasure for eternity. I stopped making fun of her right there, as she seemed to be on the verge of exploding with rage and tears.<br /><br />The Achan took up the form, and the first sound that escaped him was a groan, and his hands went up to his face, seeing the systematic murder of the malayalam langauge that had taken place. Like a school teacher, he diligently corrected the spelling mistakes, semantic "misjudgements" and the grammatical errors. Sis sat red-faced, while I was enjoying the comedy of errors thoroughly. It was a long time, since some situational comedy happened in my life. <br /><br /><b>Achan:</b> "Nee kooduthal chirikkanda. Ningalode njan chila catechism questions chodikkan pokuva"<br /><b>Me</b> (laughter substituted by fear): "Njan alla acho kettunne. Ivala"<br /><b>Achan:</b> "Pathe kalpanakal ethokkeya"<br />I begin sweating. Luckily sis knows them all.<br />But the next question stumps both of us.<br /><br /><b>Achan:</b> "Pathe kalpanakal ethrayaayitte churukkaam"<br /><b>Sis:</b> "Eh?! Angane churukkaan pattumo?"<br /><b>Achan:</b> "Sheda! Illaatha Kaaryangal njan chodikkumo"<br /><b>Sis:</b> "Ezhe"<br /><b>Achan:</b> "Ezho! Ente karthaave ninte sabha pokka"!<br /><b>Achan:</b> "Ennaal nee para"<br /><b>Me:</b> "Acho njaan alla kettunne."<br /><b>Achan:</b> "Haa parayada"<br /><b>Me</b> (tepidly): "Naale"<br /><b>Achan:</b> "Naalo! Correct answer is two"<br /><b>Achan:</b> "Ninakke extra two evidanne kitti"<br /><b>Me</b> (embarassed): "Athe njan enikke vendi ondaakiya rande kalpanakal aanacho!"<br /><br /><b>Achan:</b> "Seven sacraments ariyumo"<br /><b>Sis:</b> "Of course." <br />But the seventh stumps her. The priest turns to me.<br /><b>Me</b> (triumphantly): "Holy Orders!"<br /><b>Achan:</b> "Ho nee vichaaricha poleyallallo."<br /><b>Me:</b> "Oru kaalathe enikke achanaakanam ennondaayirunnu."<br /><b>Achan</b> (sarcastic): "Ho bhaagyam, athe nadannillallo!"<br /><br />After more questions and some disturbing answers from my sis...<br /><b>Achan</b> (to me): "Ithokke kettathukonde ineem ninakke eluppamaayallo"<br /><b>Me</b> (chuckling): "Achan ithey chodyangal thanne chodikkanam, please!"<br /><br />The priest winds up the session, giving my sis some really awesome words of advice. We were very impressed. Mom had given us a very wrong impression of this priest, both of us thought. He had totally floored us. But like a predator, quickly moving in for the kill after cleverly ensnaring his prey, he made his next move.<br /><b>Achan:</b> "We are building a church at Pongummoodu, and we are severely short of funds."<br /><b>Me</b> (that sinking feeling): "I forgot my checkbook."<br /><b>Achan:</b> "Cash mathi"<br /><b>Me:</b> "Veetil poyi eduthonde varaam acho"<br /><b>Achan:</b> "Sheri"<br /><b>Me:</b> "Kuri?"<br /><b>Achan:</b> "Cash konde varummbam tharaam. Porey?"<br /><b>Me:</b> "Mathi acho!"<br />We ran for our lives. Sis, embarassed that her catechism had failed her. Me, cursing myself, for not reading the Achan's mind well enough.<br /><br />Back home, we tell our parents, all what happened.<br /><b>Pops:</b> "Why did you tell him you both are working in the US. You should have said you are studying."<br /><b>Mom:</b> "Ente maathaave, enikkingane rande mandan pillereyaanallo kittiyathe"<br /><b>Me</b> (sheepishly): "It is for something good, right?"<br /><b>Mom:</b> "Achanmaarke aavashyathilere kaashonde. Athe edukkaathe nammale pirikkaan nadakkuva"<br /><b>Pops</b> (mournfully): "I sent you guys there, to escape him. Ineem njan thanne pokaam, and hopefully undo all the damage!"<br /><b>Me:</b> "Another reason, to do a register marriage!"<br /><br /><b>P.S:</b> Phew! I never thought i would blog again. Feels nice to be back. And enjoy this wonderful <a href="http://youtube.com/watch?v=A1oHJR2g7Tw">xian song</a>, that I have listened to, a hundred times already!Jibyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07324353796946088382noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8700519.post-75558380855115580882007-12-02T00:43:00.000-08:002008-04-24T23:37:54.017-07:00A Time To Rewind...I decided to move this by now customary year-end post up ahead. Two reasons for that, one is I had to get out of a blogging rut and this post had a template I have set in the previous years and was easy to replicate, the other reason being me getting back to my hometown in december, and memories, family, friends, places, habits, occasions are all going to come together in one overwhelming medley and hopefully supply a lot of posts to this blog. Readers have read most of this crap already, skirt it unless you have nothing better to do. 2007 was my year of passivity, it was my year of stability, it was my year of restless soul-searching, it was my year of loss and gain, and a year of lot more, which I intend to flesh out as I write on.<br /><br /><b>Ups - God</b> - I haven't mentioned before that I spent six months from late september last year to late march looking for a job. The money I had saved up was all but over. God came along and took me under his wing once again as I was about to lose my direction in life. I had quit the UPSC preps by January when my forms didn't reach India in time. I had a return ticket back home for May, but a return to what and for what. I didn't have the answer but HE saved me the trouble. I haven't seen the inside of a church in six months, but every time I look back at how I overcame miraculously the challenges at work and in my mind, it is his unseen guidance I am compelled to acknowledge. Why is prayer such an impossibility for me...i struggle to find the answer. Maybe god lives only in a home, i am living in a sathram, maybe when i make a nest and settle down to it, HE will have a permanent dwelling place. <br /><br /><b>Ups - Career</b> - The the longest I have worked at one place in my professional career - 8+ months now and counting. Last september when i returned to the US, I had made a firm decision to not go back to programming, i kept with it despite the delay in getting a job, took training in Cognos, a business reporting tool, and it has looked so far to be a right choice I made as a kind of wayside gas station to refuel and a stop-over motel to rework strategies on unravelling the big mystery to my purpose of living. Work was lazy till managers changed and now its hectic but I have been able to deal with it. I continue to be sick of meetings, the dozens of emails to be read and replied, the tasks to be managed, there are times I feel like running away but the money that has come in has helped. Thoughts of frustration and mediocrity have been relegated to the fringes of my existence. Love for, needs satisfied and the temporary security provided by money have given me justification and motivation to carry on for a few more months. A new career will beckon soon, it is a start from scratch, unless I find myself in it, I won't believe I made the transition. I am scared too. That is why I keep it secret.<br /><br /><b>Downs - Blogging</b> - The latter part of the year has been a struggle to keep this blog going. Except for the upcoming expected interregnum in december I except this downward slide to continue next year too. Decided not to put pen to paper on thoughts arising from nostalgia and past memories and instead write only of present and future. Sadly I didn't do anything significant in the present, and the few posts I came up with in the last few months arose from career thoughts. To be frank, the hazy dreams of the future is the only thing playing in my mind now and there is space for nothing else. My mind is muddled and my words are lacking in flow now. Hopefully being back in tvm will put me back in some creative orbit. Still there will be positives from this year in that I arrived on the guts to post on this blog, a malayalam short story in january. There is some mystic almost spiritual energy for the malayalam language bubbling in me...I have a gut feeling that if I write to publish, it will happen in malayalam and not in english, despite all my inadequacies in the language. In february-march when 5-6 months had passed and i was still jobless and at wits end, i dug into my reserves of humour and memories and wrote on funny incidents to conquer all the worries and regain my sanity. Beyond blogging, as a writer this year was significant in that I tried to take classes in creative writing and screenplay to master the techniques behind it - I lost interest midway through, but I have the notes and hopefully will peruse them some other day. In writing fiction, a thankless process is coming up with story ideas, atleast once every day for the past one year, I have gone on a journey with my mind to craft many a tale, most of them never got anywhere, some find their way to summarized scribblings in my notepad jotted down while half-asleep, possibly never to be expanded on. I finally have another story to write now, but am troubled, with both the english language and determination deserting me in the effort to write. And finally grammar. I have given it a total miss all these years in the freedom of ownership that blogging offers...maybe it as to do with the rigid syntax checking enforced on us techies by programming tools! But using the right tenses, placing commas, spellchecks, I am making an effort to get these as right as possible nowadays. On re-reading my older posts, I now wonder if I slept through the english grammar classes in school! <br /><br /><b>Downs - Travel</b> - Last year presented me with the opportunity to travel in North India. It was a great learning experience for me, my eyes soaked up the lives of so many people, and the sights of so many places. a lot of that found expression on this blog too. In contrast, this year found me wallowing away at home. In the past, I have done road trips in the US and covered the country, from the Pacific to the Atlantic coast. The absence of people, and not learning anything new in these travels has affirmed in me an aversion to travel here. All i can think of as travel this year, was a trip to chicago to hang out with cousins, one to florida for a family reunion, a weekend camping at hollister hills near san jose and a sailing trip few weeks back(my initial enthusiasm to don a sailor's cap during the trip and hoist and turn sails, etc died down in the open sea with rough waves giving the boat a real tossing and me a mild attack of sea-sickness which I did well to conceal from friends...whoever named the Pacific Ocean so, had an incredible sense of humour!)<br /><br /><b>Downs - Reading</b> - I'd blame the computer and the internet for distracting me with youtube and malayalam movies and indian websites but my inability to set all this aside and take up a book and read, which i know would give me the same pleasure, is baffling to say the least! First library books, then amazon.com...i thought since the library books are free, buying from amazon would force me to read...no luck either ways. Brought a lot of malayalam works from kerala to read, most of them are still waiting for me. Shame on you, jibster! <br /><br /><b>Ups - Health</b> - One day I took a bus, it braked, I almost got thrown but for the grip on the sidebar, i felt the muscles on my back stretch and dreaded for a second, of it tearing(I am now on my fourth year running in the US without medical insurance. I don't know why i keep taking these foolish risks...but i am glad i dont give any money to the scamsters!). That day i came back home, and announced to my sis, who had been cajoling me for a long time to hit the gym, that i would join her. We hired a personal trainer, who has managed to work wonders to my lean, atrophying physique and after years and years of being skinny and perpetually underweight, i stand today at a healthy 70kgs. I have had the worst eating habits too...i have skipped breakfast for close to 10 years now because of stomach trouble or because of running late for school/work but have now got back into that habit. I have been a compulsive outside eater too for the last many many years, cheap junk food from the fast food chains here like MacDonalds,BurgerKing, Taco Bell, Pizza Hut, etc have been my main source of nourishment in the US, i'd rather starve than cook, but now its been goodbye to junkfood for quite a while now, salads and a little fruit is all part of my diet now, and its as great and feel-good as chicken. The sis has been urging me to eat at home for a long time, I feel guilty making her cook after a tough day at work, but she convinced me that despite all my liberal postures, in my heart of hearts i am yet another mallu male chauvinist and that she wouldn't grudge me for it, but asked me to think of money i can save, not eating out, that i can put to better use for the future. Anyways all's well that ends well and i haven't had a fever for more than a year now. Touch wood! Looking forward to the reunion at school next month, and giving all 'em big boys a good run for the ball, when we play football and basketball.<br /><br /><b><-> - Sleep</b> - Is it a blessing or a curse I dunno. I have to take a nap once I get back from work. Without the nap, I am like a chathakozhi all evening and feel totally passive all night. Some nights, I get a good early sleep without the nap, but my habit of digging for stories is at its peak when i lie in bed, sometimes this causes me to become restless or excited and i stay awake for hours. But with the 2 hour evening nap, it gives me a cushion to go to bed at 1 but fall asleep only by 2 or 3 in the morning and wake up at 8am, and it all adds up to the perfect sleep hours! The sad part following the 2 hour nap, is that I haven't channeled my rejuvenated self to any constructive work in the 5 waking hours i get after.<br /><br /><b><-> - Time</b> - Time flies. Another blessing and curse dimension! A blessing in that my life from monday morning to friday evening at work and from friday evening to monday morning at home is over so fast, that the months gone by feel like a thankful blur and the months lying ahead to my D-day also look to pass by in that same fashion. It is also a curse in that, I look at some illustrious people in their twenties, many of them my classmates, and it pisses me that while I laze away, these people are working hard in their respective professions and doing a lot of fruitful stuff. Maybe my time is yet to come. Ha!<br /><br /><b>Downs - Friends</b> - This was the year that friendships moved several rungs down the priority ladder for me. Previously I couldn't conceive a world without friends. As a part of my experiment with life, erected a wall between them and me, for several months of this year. I angered many of them. It was a cold, dark and empty world without them. But I managed. I joked to myself, talked to myself and lived for myself. The cellphone became an irritant. The experiment ended the day I decided on my next career, and rang some of them up. I was relieved, that I hadn't damaged the ties I consider more important to me than the ones with my relatives. I now see how these friendships will work in the coming years, from daily, the contacts with them had become weekly, now its monthly, in time we will be lucky to catch up once in a year or years. Career and family first, everything else comes second. Its a practical law of the universe, and it has caught me also in its drift. <br /><br /><b><-> - Misc</b> - <br />a. Watched quite a few good indian movies, old and new. <br />b. Have become an absent minded, impatient driver<br />c. Learnt to skip.(with rope!)<br />d. Drink a lot of water nowadays<br />e. Drinking rarely now, but when i drink its becoming a binge.<br />f. Too much youtubing (<a href="http://www.youtube.com/profile_favorites?user=jiby216">my faves</a>)<br /> <br /><b>Downs - Resolutions</b> - The latest resolution made was just yesterday to take the 25 day lent for Christmas. There are a set of bad habits that I wanted to give up. Inspiration came from the 41 day Sabarimala vratham that Sreenivasan took in Chinthavishtayaaya Shyaamala! Maybe I love my weaknesses too much or I am too stuck in the morass of worldly indulgence. Not even one full day into the fast, I sheepishly promised infant jesus that I would try and welcome him into the world in better fashion next year! So no more resolutions...i have given up on reforming me...whatever good things happened, came by itself, the bad i invited in. Hopefully I have atleast learnt to reject new temptations.<br /><br />This is my log of the year's activities. Sorry for the occasional bad language and haphazard writing. Goodbye 2007. Yours was a year I was caught stationary in a place, time and circumstances helpless in pursuing the call of my heart, meanwhile the earth went around the sun and did its full circle...you are also almost history now, but I am still standing. What if I run with the earth in 2008, do a lot of things differently, where will I be, 366 days hence, will I look at yet another winter sun and sing to him a different tune, will I perceive his balmy warmth on my face, and be able to offer a thankful smile in return? Is happiness always a thing of the past? Is satisfaction always a soother of the present? Is uncertainty always a primer for the future? Well life goes on...it dances only to the tune of those who can clear their minds of all the jarring notes, but Hope is the brand name of the dancing shoes I wear, and it keeps me on my toes. Enough of getting profoundly idiotic...wish you all a very happy new year.Jibyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07324353796946088382noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8700519.post-49506825714131008272007-11-21T13:49:00.000-08:002008-04-24T23:37:54.018-07:00Idle Blogging...I have blogger open. I usually type up my posts in notepad and paste over. Today is the day before thanksgiving. I have a four day weekend coming up. My friends in LA are off on a trip to Hawaii. Our ideas of a vacation differed. So I backed out. Now I will sit at home and twiddle my thumbs. I am not in the mood to work today. I have had a hectic month. So today is payback. I am not in the mood to blog either. But I have to do something. I am tired of browsing and reading other people write. I am obsessively compelled to add my share of bytes to google's huge memory dump. <br /><br />I am at my desk, surrounded by 4 walls which do not reach the ceiling, the glorified work space we post-modern employees call a cubicle. Papers lie carelessly strewn all around. I am not a sucker for order. The carpet is clean today. Someone must have vacuumed the floor over the weekend. Last week, there were bits and pieces of chocolate strewn all over the floor which I frantically tried to clean, but ended up smudging with my shoes. I had bought a slab of white chocolate. It was too hard to break it. So I had to bite at it. Chocolate is one of my innocent pleasures. I will never outgrow my childhood when it comes to chocolate. Lets not speak about childhood here. The coffee is growing cold. I need to get another cup. I love the coffee in winter. It warms me up. I hate the taste though...they call it by different names nowadays but it all tastes pretty much the same...for me nothing better than filter coffee at a South Indian vegetarian restaurant. It also helps me overcome my hunger. Speaking of hunger, I mix up my lunch on weekdays. Monday and Wednesday are Indian, Tuesday mexican, thursday american, and friday something different. There wont be a friday this week. So today I had italian for lunch. A cheesy lasagne with spinach on top. I spend liberally on food. It is in revengeful memory of the days I had to starve, some years back. But let me not go back to the past again.<br /><br />I was in an all-day meeting yesterday and this one was productive for a change. I looked at the 10 faces around. Faces from all over the world...america, china, india, england, south-east asia, persia. I noticed this glib-tongued desi consultant who held forte for most of the meeting. He spoke remarkably good english, a very healthy usage of american pronunciation enhancing his already perfect indian accent. I was envious, i would never speak so good english. I love the way americans pronounce words. They stylise every word to give it the best sound. I think Indian English sounds the next best. I hate the way brits and aussies speak english...it is hard for me to understand. I hate their accent. Period. <br /><br />I am biding my time to get off work. Usually we get to leave early on the eve of a long weekend. No such email announcing early pack-up has come today. I don't care. After all there is nothing to do at home. And I bill by the hour. I have deadlines to be met, but I will come back on monday and start over, I have decided I can't work today. I am not a professional. I never will be one. I will never make a good manager either. It is going to get dark early. Even if I drive back home at 4, I will need headlights turned on. I hate driving in the dark. There is nothing to look at, other than the road ahead. By now the road has been mapped firmly in memory. I know which lanes are faster at each bend, and at each stretch, I know the side roads to divert to when I hit traffic. The commute takes me 25 minutes sharp, both ways. I wonder if I am part robot, part zombie, part human or like in Matrix am in a world someone's programmed for me. <br /><br />Now what? I have four holidays. I love to sleep heavily on weekends. I have been sleeping a lot lately. I have a dozen books and movies in various stages of reading and watching, my concentration span has always been short. We don't have a TV at home so that I don't waste time. My knowledge of american pop culture is at zilch as a result. TV shows, the NBA and the college football season, music bands...i know nothing of all that. What I know is from the internet and google news, I am loving the dems' presidential debates put up on youtube, i am supporting Hillary just because i absolutely love Bill Clinton...Obama is definitely the better man, but i don't think he will win this time, I hope Hillary takes him on as running mate so that in 4-8 years of his stay in DC, he will have grown in stature internationally. His strong candidature has shaken the rest of the world which thinks America is racist. Alright the email has come in for us to take leave. Blogging for the sake of blogging...the fall of another blogger, ain't it? Enough bull, i have served you all...that was a real overdose of disjointed and random musings. Apologies and Sympathies! My holiday season is beginning. This is the time Americans erupt in a wild orgasm of senseless spending followed by gasping at the depleted bank balances. There is a lot of mysterious excitement building up for me too...more of that later.Jibyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07324353796946088382noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8700519.post-77734584483739635272007-10-09T00:13:00.000-07:002008-04-24T23:37:54.019-07:00The Young And The Affluent...This weekend some of my mallu juniors from the Bay Area came visiting. These are the kind of guys I would love to avoid but they shower too much affection on me that I just can't get away from them how much ever I try. It is just not them, even my best friends from school and college...the way their lives have taken off has left me breathless and of course, inspired. Some years back I wrote a post on how my American friends were <a href="http://jiby216.blogspot.com/2005/08/for-men-who-missed-elevators.html">faring professionally</a>. I also wrote a post on our <a href="http://jiby216.blogspot.com/2005/07/lighter-side-of-american-life.html">awkward beginnings</a> in America. Today all that is history. I am amazed really at the changes happening in front of my eyes, half-scared, half-wondering why none of it rubs off on me. The flashiest cars be it the Porsche Boxters, the Nissan 350Zs, Infiniti G35s, Ford Mustangs, Range Rovers rest in their garages, the coolest accessories like Versace glasses, iPhones, Diesel shoes...they have it all and flaunt it too with a panache that makes me laugh at all those cliches of Indians being geeky/nerdy/shy, sticking to corollas, camry's, civics, can't even get it up with a girl, etc. My friends are changing all that. These guys dine and wine at expensive places, have begun travelling to exotic places, some look to and succeed in dating americans, you name it...its all there in their "resumes". These same guys who were once so self-conscious of their FOB status, now look at people coming from India, especially the hordes of on-site visitors and watch with amusement as they too learn the ropes of becoming cool.<br /><br />We drove in to this high-end shopping mall in Beverly Hills. I assumed we were in for another one of those bouts of window shopping and kept muttering restlessly.To my surprise the guys actually went into a few stores and came out spending a cool amount of money on designer stuff that left me a little irritated, a little unhappy that I who probably made much more than these guys, thanks to a greencard holding, free-wheeling, overpaid consultant job felt the pinch in my pocket, though it was they who laid off those greenbacks. <br />I asked one of them, "Dey, nee enthina inganathe carum saamagrikalum vaangiche kooti kaashe kalayunne?"<br />He told me,"This is why I came to the US. I want a good life. Why did you come here?"<br />His poser left me sorry for asking, and I gingerly replied, "I had the greencard."<br />"What do you do with your money?" he asked not letting me off the hook so easy, I guessed there was talk amongst them, that I was a miser.<br />"I let it add up or send it home. I don't know what else to do with it."<br />He thankfully left it at that...but I felt like a child in front of this "kid" who was 4 years younger to me.<br /><br />A few months back I was in Chicago at my cousin's place, and similarly put-off by the high-end lifestyle she and her friends lived. I probed her about it and she gave me and the rest of us younger kids a pep-talk that went miles into helping me decide finally what I wanted from life. She and friends studied hard through school and college not wasting time fooling around, found good jobs, banded around other super-achievers like them, made sure they were placed for vertical growth and now could fall back a bit and enjoy all the best things money could provide. She advised me to do the same, identify the right career i wanted to pursue and start putting in the hard work atleast now. She opened my eyes to a grave misreading I made about youth, friendships, etc. I was the kind of guy who prided myself on having an amazing school and college life, great friendships, wonderful memories, etc but I realized none of it was of any use now. I was wasting time then as I was now. I looked around, and realized those same friends who were part of those rowdy gangs had moved on, started taking life seriously, are in line for great success,some married already and are great husbands, yet they never lost their bonds with me and could talk in the same vein of our heydays, crack jokes, call each other obscenities, give each other advise knowing it wont be remembered in the bonhomie of our chatter.<br /><br />You guys will be wondering why I have so many back-to-back personal posts. The reason is, these are some new lessons I have learnt along the way the last few months, lessons that if you who is one of my younger readers who is enjoying life like I did, may not have realized or won't have anyone to tell you. I am at a stage where bad habits have hardened and tough to be changed, where its natural to come home after work and rest and do nothing though your mind wills otherwise, where weekends are spent sleeping, browsing, watching movies, or hanging out with friends even when something keeps chanting in you to change course, where the danger of being satisfied and even further accept this mediocre existence lurks perenially around the corner. I have always wondered why the world has so many proverbs and aphorisms on time, but now I feel the pinch for every minute wasted. Happily there are no regrets for the past yet, but the present lies wasted(<a href="http://malayasianincanada.blogspot.com/">Sarah</a> emailed asking, besides telling me other good things, "Why do you think the tense for now is called "present" in the english language?"). The title of this post may be a misnomer...i may or may not agree with the materialism that has gripped my friends, i guess i have no right to judge them...their lifestyles may have changed but they are still the good old guys i knew back then. Their affluence, my restlessness, the youthful vigor on which these friendships were built, our paths are diverting away from the junction we once ran into each other...when we meet again, years hence, at another confluence, what new tales will I have, to tell of their exploits?Jibyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07324353796946088382noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8700519.post-68774757077514970902007-10-02T13:51:00.000-07:002007-10-02T18:13:24.476-07:00Oh! Its Oct 2nd...What's the Big Deal???I almost forgot today was Gandhi Jayanti. And I dont remember anymore if the last many years have also gone by in that manner. We live in a day and age where the only heroes we get to truely celebrate are armymen who give up their lives in the service of the country, business czars whose enterprise have provided millions of jobs and then we have the idols of young India, film actors and cricketers whose smiling, glamorous faces look up from a million posters and billboards throughout the homes and streets of gung-ho India. Those grand old men and women who fought the British, their memories relegated to school textbooks, their place in the sun not yet lost, ironically by idols installed at prime locations, yet I am sure not a single passer-by notices them except for birds looking for a nice spot to rest and shit. There is this statue in Raj Bhavan road of freedom fighter Akkamma Cherian, I must have passed it by for many years and always thought it was Indira Gandhi until a chapter in the textbook about her forced me to open my eyes. Later we studied about Swadeshabhimani Ramakrishna Pillai, the first of many men who fought for the amazing Freedom of Press, we now enjoy today in Kerala, whose statue I was told could be seen in Statue Jn but I never found it till one day waiting for a bus near the Marikar showroom I spotted him shrouded in the tree cover leading up to the AG's Office.<br /><br />There is this favorite moment I have had with Gandhiji. It is a feeling I will cherish forever. It was during my MS days and I was walking to work on a campus road which stretched out in a straight line and ended up in an undergraduate student housing building. It was dark, close to midnight and there was this one light shining from a room, which seemed to guide me on ahead. Like most guys, the first fancy that came to my mind was seeing a girl in that room, in a state of undress. As I kept getting closer, the faint outlines of a picture on the wall caught my attention. I couldnt make out who it was, but it held me transfixed until the shape of the Mahatma grew clearer and clearer. Besides him on either side was a poster of Abraham Lincoln and Martin Luther King. I smiled to myself and wondered what possible source of inspiration could the Mahatma be to a person in the most affluent country in the world, when even Indians don't care anymore. There are moments like these, when you recognize the presence of a great man in your life, and you acknowledge his contribution to making your life a better one. Isn't that what is called immortality? Some months later we were walking on the street, when a homeless guy sniggered at us, "Gandhi Boys!" It may have been a racial taunt but we smiled, and I shouted back at him, "Thank You!" and would have loved to add, "But we don't deserve the compliment!"<br /><br />Gandhiji's outward political postures, even if not in spirit are kept alive and kicking in our country, if you see the kadar clothing, bandhs, hartals, jathas, satyagraha what not. We have politicians to thank for that...if Gandhi was just a politician he wouldnt have survived...even he displayed selfishness and lack of grace at times. But his greatness was that he had lessons for ordinary people too. Even between politics he taught the importance of hygiene and a clean environment...it is funny that when ministers like Kamal Nath fight for India not to be brought under purview of greenhouse emission, he hides the fact that global warming is hurting India more than any other country in the world. I feel it...the biggest challenge before India in coming years is not democracy, corruption, economy or insurgency...it is climate change. In India, every man grosses wealth, in the safe knowledge that he is doing it for his children, but when it comes to anything that is global wealth, these same men exploit it without realizing they are digging their grandchildrens' graves even before they are born. Man is always helpless, for centuries we feared and grappled with the challenges earth posed, now we are so in the grip of technology and modernity, and acknowledge we face an earth we have tapped at indiscriminately, but cant face upto even a few minutes of power-cut, loss of transportation, air-condition or connectivity!<br /><br />One moment, I make all these utopian(maybe even gandhian) schemes on how I should lead life...next moment, I find that same me, doing the exact opposites of what I thought of earlier. Truth, Non-Violence, Conquest of the Self...such impossibilities for us pampered people. For me the biggest challenge has been to win over my baser instincts...a lazy nap, porn, mindless movies, pointless net-surfing, companionships past their shelf-date and associated habits...the first book that ever gave me the tools to deal with it was no Bible or motivators like Dale Carnegie, Lee Iococa etc...but Gandhiji's My Experiments With Truth. Once you finish reading the book you realize that it wasn't an accident of history that a man like Gandhiji lead India to freedom. In his seemingly-pointless-for-us abstinence, vegeterianism, brahmacharya, etc he toughened his soul to give him the courage to face the higher aims of his life like truth, non-violence and India's freedom. It is the simplest yet most profoundly touching and inspiring book you can lay your hands on for as less as Rs.30. Truth, Non-violence and probably most of his experiments in the book are i guess beyond what we mere 21st century zombies can aspire for, but it also has lessons in simplicity, time-management, humility, health, social commitment and work-ethic we still can commit to, which can help us succeed and feel good about, in our busy lives. Gandhiji once lived amongst us, he still lives in us, we rarely seek to find out...a brilliant Rajkumar Hirani makes a Lage Raho Munnabhai and we rave about Gandhigiri for a while, every year we have an Independence Day and a Gandhi Jayanti, but if each of us truely want to celebrate him, his life and the freedom he and his men won for us, pick up his book, buy it for your friends, who knows...you or that person might discover a Gandhian thought in some simple action of yours, and who knows...we might even end up saving Earth! Happy Birthday, Gandhiji.<br /><br /><b>P.S</b> - Albert Einstein, the man who pipped Gandhi to the 'Time Man of the Century' Award said of Gandhiji, "Generations to come will scare believe such a one as this in flesh and blood, walked the face of the Earth". I wonder if Einstein's fine statement will become a prophesy...Gandhiji becoming some unattainable freak great soul rather than the very human being he was...he will be remembered for sure...but how he is remembered lies very much in how much of him we can find in our lives, we the youth of India who are a link between a morbid, stagnating recent past and an exciting but hazardous near future owe atleast this much to that man.Jibyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07324353796946088382noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8700519.post-49313580414784784872007-09-22T10:29:00.000-07:002008-04-24T23:37:54.019-07:00On The Birthday Eve - Ten ConfessionsTwo years ago was my <a href="http://jiby216.blogspot.com/2005/09/25-years-25-blessings.html">25th birthday</a> and it proved a singular milestone that offered to a lost traveler, a chance to once more feel the joy of living...I don't know what was different with me then and today...maybe I have grown in the knowledge of who I am and what this birth means to me, or maybe not. I remember of being content then with all I had to do to get to that point, and thus wrote that post...I was ready to take my life in my hands, though I knew not what I wanted from it. Today is another story, the past is a distant blur, the present an insignificant blip on the horizon, and the future stands right before my eyes unattainable yet. Every approaching birthday, these last few years has been a time for churn, change and new resolve...2003 i dug my heels in and decided to salvage my MS, 2004 i quit my first job without saving up a single penny, 2005 mustered the wits to give the UPSC a try, last September swallowed my pride and came back to the US. This time I have been lucky to have undertaken the by-now customary bday revolution quite earlier than September, but find myself dealing with the struggle of surviving 200 days before the next attempt to chart yet another course in life begins. I donot know what the intention of this post will be...is it to record for my posterity, my frame of mind at this point of time, or is it to find some clarity, which writing, more often than not, gives me.<br /><br /><b>Existence</b><br />I am appalled that several people close to me, expect wonders to happen. I think this blog gave them that idea. I can't think of anything else worthwhile, that I have done, during my time on Earth. Several things that I did, I now see as being done to give meaning to my existence at that point of time. In school, I read books to escape the confines of my introversion and my complexes. Later it was my friendships that defined my existence, and the books lay forgotten. In college, I took up drinking, hoping it would make me a man, hoping it would nullify self-questions of my adolescent manhood - such superficial stuff for me today like unsprouting facial hair, being underweight, and lack of physical courage. During Master's working at the Film School and my growing interest in movies gave the "Jeene Ki Ik Wachah". At work and lost, blogging came to the rescue, at Civil Service coaching travelling saved me, today surprisingly it is the naked need for money to satisfy a lot of my needs over the next few years that is helping me cling on. Of course it is my hope that these experiences/memories help me in future. <br /><br /><b>Flicker</b> <br />Blogging used to be not just about letting my thoughts wander and capturing them in words but also about being part of a blogger community, reading my fellow bloggers, appreciating and imbibing their views and writing styles, leaving comments, etc. Nowadays I hate to wander in blogosphere. I feel a sad guilt at not doing my duty because I know how much a blogger loves to hear from a fellow blogger about his/her latest post. I am reading, M.Mukundan's Haridwaril Manikal Muzhangunnu, a superb novella of hardly 100 pages, but I can't read beyond a page at a time before my concentration wavers. It must be jealousy at play, how such wonderful yet simple writing takes shape, whether in blogging or fiction writing. I worry that with my interest in reading at such a nadir, how my thoughts and ideas and love for writing can grow beyond the frankly adolescent level, that it is now at.<br /><br /><b>Waiting</b><br />For a lot of my life, I have waited for others to give me a helping hand. More often than not, that hand never came. I have longed for friends or relatives to begin path-breaking companies, so I can go work for them, for friends to break into the entertainment industry, for my dad to push me through into a field I can succeed in...riding on other people's wings was a lazy fantasy that I nurtured stupidly for far too long. Its been some time since I have realized the initiative to better my life had to come from me, and yet I can't help thinking why things are taking so long to change for me. My dad always tells me, "If I had your talent, I wouldn't have wasted it"...and I wryly muse,"Pops, if I had your ambition..."<br /><br /><b>Smiling</b><br />I remember I used to have a perpetual warm smile, once upon a time. I have caught myself several times with a frown on my face, several times with a weak, laboured and artificial manufacture replacing that once all-powerful beacon, while a deep emptiness resides in that mysterious place somewhere inside, that once powered the lone good thing about me.<br /><br /><b>Yearning</b><br />What is the idea of home? It cant be just the four walls of my house, my parents, my people, my language, my awareness of culture, tradition and history...it must be something much deeper than all this, that has found an abode in me, that has me going back, every moment these last many years. At a family reunion few weeks back, my uncle the novelist chap, remarked, that "Perhaps Jiby, has not, unlike the rest of us, found himself melting into the American mainstream like the rest of us." My sister's reply confirmed why she will probably know me better than anyone else on earth, "Achacha, it is nothing about America that he finds uncomfortable, it is India that drives him." Those words from her mouth, had to find its place in this post...she has stood like a pillar carrying me along, speaking for me when I lost my voice. No sister of today's times ever lifted a brother from failure like she saved me...I've always wondered how the finest human beings are people who are unassuming and seem ordinary to me. <br /><br /><b>Weariness</b><br />why cant I approach every day with reinvigorated zest. Why every day begins, continues and ends in intermittent tired yawns. Going to the gym would help, I thought, but the physical energy just doesn't seep into my spirit. The brawn is beginning to show up, the brain remains clouded in a perpetual suspension of all purpose. Wonder if Yoga will help. I tried hypnotism but that's a hilarious story for another day. Took online creative writing and screenwriting courses but gave up on it midway for lack of ideas and inability to stick to class schedules. There was a time in life that I had a spring in every enthusiastic step I took. The summer of my fatigue has bade goodbye, now the winter of my discontent is past the threshold and at home, will an eternal spring with fresh spirits come knocking at my doorsteps soon? <br /><br /><b>Impatience</b><br />For several months now, I took life as coming, Week by Week, with the weekend resuscitating and rejuvenating me. Until I took the decision on the next career. Now it is becoming harder to plough by each day. Each hour brings thoughts of what will happen ahead, the thousands of hours to be furrowed ahead to get there worries me no end. I used to be the guy who others envied for living life carefree and how I have changed! Will i lose my job and not find another one soon enough, will I meet my financial targets, will I fall sick, will my plans be derailed, a myriad such thorns plague my path ahead, wish I was that witch with the broom who could sweep past all this and fly ahead to meet the next call of life. Or is this life in all its colours?<br /><br /><b>Preparing</b><br />A week back, I serviced my car, then took it to a carwash and on the way back a feeling of well-being on how smoothly it ran and how good it was looking coursed through me. For some months now, have been urging my weak soul to reconcile with the material losses to be suffered and luxuries to be rejected, if I am ever to shed this moneyed mediocrity that is pinning down my happiness. Unguarded moments of such coziness will surely keep making life difficult. Will having all the accessories and luxuries of life compensate the sadness of living a most sterile, untested, homogeneous existence...I ask myself if I am the most foolish Indian in America. <br /><br /><b>Fear</b><br />There was a time I earnestly looked up to this bday as a time for setting aside singledom. I was vainly confident in the knowledge that family, NRI-ship, career and character could win me the right girl, any day i set out for it. As I set about rebuilding my ship caught in choppy waters, I realize its just not the career that is wrong with me, the person that I am today is a demon shrouded deceptively in human garb. If there is a fear in me today, it is one of commitment to another human being...I find myself incapable of any kindness, even to the people who love me most. Ironic that having discovered the girl who had captured for a long long time, my wonderment and unrequited, unspoken inquisitiveness, I scared myself away and realized it best to let things be and stay off it all. Some lives move in a tangent, barely touching, never intersecting...maybe that is the fate with this un-dis-lodge-able pinprick in my heart too. <br /><br /><b>Something</b><br />I don't know what it is. Something tells me all this will change. Something tells me I will find motivation. Something tells me I will persevere. I trust that Something...I agree to play along.<br /><br />P.S - After the first read, I thought this was quite a silly post and decided to junk it. But the second read prompted me to resolve and I realized it wasn't such a bad exercise of looking inwards after all. Resolutions for this bday include surfing news websites every day without fail, reading two novels a week, blogging once a fortnight, writing one short story a month, and pen down a malayalam film script within a year. I leave you folks with a <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q7ZbzIySgYs">beautiful song</a> as a birthday treat, my favorite this season, it is a christian devotional, but then doesnt good music transcend all these narrow boundaries.Jibyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07324353796946088382noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8700519.post-28596721863563306382007-09-11T00:10:00.000-07:002007-09-11T07:19:07.973-07:00Nee Veruthathe Aare???It is a dilemma that hits me hard every time I sit down to write. English or Malayalam? I have heard people say the language that you think in is the language that you are most comfortable with. English is the language I grew up with - learning, reading and loving but Malayalam was the language I was raised up in, speaking and hearing. I have scarce given attention to the language of my thoughts, but when I began to write them down on this blog, English was the natural language of choice. But as time progressed, the itching to see what little of Malayalam survived in me, had grown to a point, that I have come to curse myself for the step-motherly treatment, I have meted out the mother-tongue all along. <br /><br />It all began twenty one years ago; that summer vacation in my native place stays ever so fresh in memory. A 6 year old kid sat teary-eyed and shivering before the stern glare of the woman who taught the basics of malayalam to the children in the village. I was getting the alphabets wrong; my mom, ammachi and appachan crowded around the dining table trying to help. But I just kept getting worse and worse. The slide that began then continued year after year. I barely managed to scrape through exam after exam. The malayalam textbook, the malayalam teacher and the malayalam language remained a recurring nightmare of childhood that eluded tiding over.<br /><br />The 6th Standard, was the first time I came into an oddly tangible, but then-unwanted inheritance - the knowledge that a small part of the malayalam literary corpus ran through my blood too. We had to study a poem, Aethen Thottam (Garden of Eden) written by Mahakavi Kattakayam. Inquired of him to my dad, but the pride which radiated off Pop's face as he recounted the Mahakavi's works and achievements scarce resonated in me. And then it happened. Our Malayalam sir, a literary critic of some renown then, an ancient hoary figure who scared us beyond all mention, was distributing answer papers, he reached mine, looked at my name, then my marks, and asked, "Cheriyan Mappilayude Aarayitte Varum Nee?" I replied and with an expression of pathetic condescension, passed me my paper. If ever I wanted to toss the family name attached to me, it was that moment. Jiby John offered me anonymity. Jiby John Kattakayam was an embarassment in Malayalam classes. Since then, I never used Kattakayam in school and in a gesture befitting my hallowed ancestor, bunked school, the day Aethan Thottam was taught, to skip further shame!<br /><br />There were brief moments of magic - like when learning SankaraKurup's Mambazham, Malayatoor's Mummy, ONV's Oru Vattom, Lalithambika Antharjanam's Bhoomiyile Malakha, Uroob's Mindapennu and Poonthanam's Jnanappana but those were minor blips in a rigid syllabus that restricted malayalam into an academic subject, rather than a rich language with a good corpus of literature, we just didnt have avenues to know of. The way ICSE and CBSE schools which today are mushrooming throughout Kerala, treat Malayalam, needs to change. I went on to pass Malayalam with "high honours" in the 10th...the second lowest mark in the whole school...I didnt feel shame but blew a sigh of relief that I was done with Malayalam for life, but how wrong I was, how ironic has the turnaround been...in a blog where I extracted maximum mileage and sought self-gratification for the years of anglophilia, I write in loss today about a phobia that grasped me all those years to the cusp of a feverish hatred. Knowing English is good, but trust me, knowing my mother tongue better has been one of the most fervent prayers on my lips, these last few years. I read Basheer, Mukundan, MT and Vijayan today in the hope of reversing my ageing, hoping to make up for the many lost years, in the hope of finding the ability to write in Malayalam too, as freely and with the same youthful abandon, as I can in English. Remains to be seen if I can succeed...<br /><br />Last year in Delhi, we had a discussion on Khasak, and a dear friend who was part of it, asked me if the english translation by Vijayan himself was anywhere close to the Malayalam original. Embarassed, I told him I had read the english version only and couldnot help on that question. It got me back into reading a malayalam work again and some events from a little later which I have blogged about before, gave me the impetus to atleast try. All said, even this post on Malayalam, I have succumbed to the easiness of writing in English. Maybe its too late, maybe its the overwhelming delusion of my still-strong fascination for English that is preventing me, maybe it is the laziness to master Varamozhi, but it's a restlessness that wont stop devouring me unless I write just once more in malayalam. I guess its true, that old saying - Pettammeyolam Varumo Pottamma. <br /><br /><b>P.S: </b>I have said somewhere that the books read in the schooldays, the experiences in later life especially the exposure to a new world, have helped in the blogging process...I forgot to add something else to that potent combination. It might seem absurd to you guys but it is a fact...the 5000 strong wordlist I memorized day in and day out for my GRE preps. That took my vocabulary to a new plane all together...and I have rarely needed an english dictionary since then. These days I look at the Shabdatharavali wistfully hoping I knew atleast 1% of the malayalam words it carries, I know I am too old, lazy and busy to slog through its 2000 pages. If only someone has a wordlist of malayalam words prepared and put out there, that I can read, memorize and equip myself with...maybe to talk, maybe to write or maybe just to think in! Forget writing, these days very few people talk good malayalam, colloquial and commonplace words have taken so firm a-firm-hold on us...that I feel the wordlist is a viable option to save both the spoken and the written language.Jibyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07324353796946088382noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8700519.post-25935308741369170402007-08-31T04:54:00.001-07:002007-08-31T04:56:06.023-07:00Did You Know???In an age dominated by the lazy game of cricket, that even a pretender like me can play with aplomb, the news of India reaching the final and then winning the Nehru Cup, screamed at me for attention and then filled me with a genuine feeling of happiness. If you still thought, it was another cricket tourney, forget it. Be ready to blink...the game was soccer and the opponents were not our regular South Asian neighbours. I went through this <a href="http://www.ibnlive.com/videos/47687/.html">video</a> and countless articles on the triumph with hope of a turnaround in a sport that India was genuinely good at until the mid-90's and then faded away. It can't be a coincidence that India's performance in athletics, football, tennis, and countless other sports took the downward trend once cricket attracted our singular attraction? A regular, pleasing, thrilling sight on train journeys through Kerala was local youngsters playing football and volleyball and a small crowd watching them...cricket took that place for a while, but last year again i saw those small-timers back to playing football and i rejoiced. Maybe the soccer World Cup last year has certainly helped India. <br /><br />The Nehru Cup held in TVM in the late eighties was my first initiation into watching a sport as a spectator. A C.V.Pappachen goal from the left flank beating three Czechoslovakian defenders and netting the ball from an almost 180deg angle to the goal mouth is still fresh in memory. I.M.Vijayan debuted the next year for Kerala Police who won the Federation Cup, following which Kerala won the Santhosh Trophy after 18 years. V.P.Sathyan, the captain of the two victorious teams, who tragically killed himself last year was the hero of every malayali then. In school, I still remember every one of my classmates playing football with these names on their mouths. In the eighties and early 90's Kerala sport reached its pinnacle with supreme performances in athletics by PT Usha, Shiny Wilson and co, in basketball with CV Sunny, Jayashankar Menon and the rest of their Kerala Police team, volleyball under late Jimmy George besides the legendary football team I wrote of earlier. <br /><br />Some years back a very talented young footballer who promised a lot and should have been part of this victorious team, Pradeep Jose(not sure that is his name, memory has faded, there is a kerala footballer, <a href="http://www.hinduonnet.com/thehindu/mp/2004/06/21/stories/2004062101610100.htm">Vinu Jose</a>, i think he is his brother, or maybe...), whom I had seen playing for Calicut University once, on that superb Trivandrum Doordarshan programme, Kalikkalam, who made it to the Kerala State team and indian team but died of typhoid, unknown, uncared for, in a hospital in Andhra Pradesh where he had gone, representing Kerala in some tournament. Last year or year before, I saw a Santhosh trophy match, i think the semi or final, which could be termed listless at best, long overhead cross passes failing to reach their intended recipient, clumsy tackles, a boringly sedate "friendly" performance, and i flicked channels, wondering how things came to so low a level. Its heartbreaking to see Leander stretch himself to his limits to keep India in the Davis Cup match after match, and no youngster coming up to replace him, either in skill or spirit and you wonder how, in earlier times, a steady flow of talented players like Ramanathan Krishnan, Vijay Amritraj, Ramesh Krishnan, Leander Peas and Mahesh Bhupathi kept arriving to take over the baton from the older set.<br /><br />Is cricket responsible? Are we responsible? Were the men who marketed cricket more smarter than the ones who helmed football, hockey and athletics? With enthusiasm, I told my colleague of India winning the Nehru Cup and he scornfully remarked, "Maybe it was some local team." This same person keeps bombarding me with cricket scores each time India plays. If an Indian, can show such extremes of apathy and empathy for two Teams' in Blue, all of us can imagine, what sort of inspiration, support and pride indian sports persons outside cricket have to play for. I don't know if its a mentality developed as an offshoot of globalization, that the weaker ones are left by the wayside...but we see it happening everywhere. In the agricultural sector, in movies, in sports, arts and in almost every aspect of Indian life, a lot of what has been welded to make up our India has been ignored and left to fend for itself. Surely, all this doesnot bode well for us. Ironically, it needed an Englishman to coach, impart confidence and set free a young set of caged boys from the stigma of being ignored by their own countrymen and gain their attention, not by marketing, sponsorship or hype but through a renaissance on the football ground. Is Indian football rising from the ashes? I'd like to believe so.Jibyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07324353796946088382noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8700519.post-65732734142284298422007-08-13T14:49:00.000-07:002007-08-13T21:11:13.466-07:00Goliath Is Winning...I was in a bad, bad mood. Got into the car. Put on one of my fave songs lately, from Vadakkumnathan, Gange, the last classical song from the late Raveendran & Yesudas combo. Mohanlal's voice came up previewing the song and I shut it off hastily. "Drat! I want some silence." I clenched my teeth and felt like biting my lips to grind out the irritation with that voice which once soothed, once made me laugh, cry and fall in love with love. My sis giggled at my frustration, making an effort to hide hers. We had just come out from a screening of this years mega-blockbuster in malayalam, hit directorial team of Rafi-Meccartin's Hallo. This year had seen me repeat the angry act many times over...after watching Baba Kalyani, Mayavi and Chota Mumbai which have been the big hits this year. I have a new cardinal rule in place for watching malayalam films...also watch movies from newer untouted directors, younger fresh-faced actors, scriptwriters who have never delivered a hit and films that came and went without making a blip on the malayali conscience. As a result I have watched some good malayalam films in the last one year which many of you evaded, never heard of or never bothered to know of. As I write this two small films, Veeralipaattu and Thaniye, are dying or already gone from Kerala theatres. <br /><br />The reason I write about <a href="http://sify.com/movies/malayalam/review.php?id=14505437&ctid=5&cid=2428">Veeralipattu</a>, though I havent seen it yet, is because it has my favorite malayalam actor of today, Prithviraj in the leading role, a debutant scriptwriting team, Ashok-Sasi who deserves early encouragement and finally the young director, Kukku Surendran whose debut film, Oraal, which I will write about later, was a brilliant effort. On Prithviraj, an actor whom I dedicated a post to, in this blog in <a href="http://jiby216.blogspot.com/2005/07/prithviraj-phenomenon.html">July 2005</a>, after watching his debut Tamil effort, Kana Kandein and realizing this was one man who deserved to succed in Kerala, i find he is in no better position, two years later in 2007. 2006 was his career-defining period where he broke out and away from all accusations of copying the superstars, limited range, lack of flexibility with such diverse roles as a wrongly accused victim of a sex scandal in Achanurangatha Veedu; the intense, brooding, rough-toungued corrupt cop of Vargam; the fiery SFI student leader with a romantic side who returns years later broken and mellowed in Classmates; the harmless, honest govt clerk from Kasargod whose transition into a guily, ambitious and cunning bureaucrat caught in between three women and salvaging his career when surrounded by enemies, all leading to his salvation in the classic film, Vasthavam and finally ending the year with an understated performance as a young, idealistic journalist in Pakal who reports on the actual scenario of Wayanad's crop failures and suicides blending himself beautifully into an otherwise shoddy film, Prithvi's career has come a long way but is Kerala listening? This year, in Mozhi, he made an indelible mark in Thamizhakam, in the role of a young, earnest musician in love with a deaf-and-dumb girl and in the process proved he could do comedy also effectively, if given the chance.<br /><br />Well enough of Prithviraj, you guys might say I am overtly praising him, but I am frustrated by the continuing apathy of kerala's youngsters to go out and watch his movies on the big screen. It seems fashionable to say he is arrogant, loud-mouthed, not that talented, over-hyped and therefore his movies shouldnt be watched. I came across many people who pass judgement on him, without even watching his recent movies. Both Mammootty and Mohanlal are prisoners of their fanbase. Good Mammootty films like Karuthapakshikal, Kaiyoppu, Mission 90 Days and Big B have failed to run as they should have because his fans, especially in Malabar, crave for just a typical masala potboiler with comedy, action, romance, melodrama and sentiments thrown in. Mohanlal on the other hand is lucky he has admirers throughout Kerala among the old, kids, women and beyond his huge rowdy fan association, all of which will ensure even his good films like Thanmatra, Vadakkumnathan and Keerthichakra have a decent run at the BO, even without fan support. A few months back 3000 Mohanlal fans were present at the launch of Alibai and a similar number on his birthday celebration in Chengalchoola in TVM. What has Lal done to deserve so much praise since the late 90's. Teenagers and youngsters talk of him like he is their youth icon. But I am sorry. He is 45+. He was the icon of an earlier age...the eighties and early 90's when he did all those special roles. There is a simple explanation for all this. It is the psychology of the mob on display. It is cool among the rough and tough guys of Kerala to be a fan of these superstars and everyone else just joins in to become yet another cool guy and be part of a fraternity and soon they are sucked into believing these two are demi-goods and everyone else in Malayalam, a threat. Unfortunately, this is Kerala with a shrinking audience for cinema where across the board support is needed to rescue a film and not TN, Andhra or Bombay where theatre collections easily run into crores by the opening weekend itself. These superstars have lost it...they are treating us to average fare and we are deluding ourselves that Hello and Mayavi and others are another great effort from them. I have had enough pouring scorn and being cynical and all those things i hate to do and be...I move to the main purpose of this post...an eye-opener to recent good malayalam cinema which failed at the box-office that many of you maynot have had a chance to see, and which is available on vcd/dvd for all of u out there.<br /><br />------------------------------------------------------<br />****POSSIBLE SPOILERS****<br />------------------------------------------------------<br /><br /><b>Oraal</b>(2005)- The pair of Kukku Surendran-T.K.Devakumar's debut movie, a psychological thrller, Oraal, had Mukesh and Sreya Reddy in a leading role, telling the story of an avante-garde film director and his live-in partner, making a trip to a forest where he intends to write his next script. There, certain fears in the form of a young, bearded man who questions the pseudo-achievements of Mukesh, and gains the attraction of Sreya, enter his mind, all of which leads him down a path of self-destruction. It is what many of you call a slow movie...but I felt there was good suspense allthroughout, unguessable climax, and a very interesting young "villain" character, who is from a theatre background. Adoor Gopalakrishnan praised Kukku for his direction at a film festival.<br /><br /><b>Mayookham</b>(2005) - Hariharan returns to a genre of film-making he seemingly ditched after the rotten, Prem Poojari. With Saiju Kurup and Mamta Mohandas in the lead, the film dealt with a young, jobless ruffian from a Brahmin family, Saiju Kurup, who fails repeatedly to find a job due to his upper-caste status and turns a rebel and falls into wild company. Enter Mamta Mohandas an NRI girl on a vacation who manages in him a change of heart and prompts him to pursue his old hobby of writing poetry and taking up a lowly press job. Shot in and around beatiful locales on the banks of the Nila, with beatiful songs by the last veteran standing, Bombay Ravi, enchanting cinematography by S.Kumar, a solid script by Hariharan himself and a splendid debut effort by the brooding and intense Saiju Kurup this film sadly went unoticed. The only flaw in the film was that it failed to factor in the IT age where jobs are available for those who try for entry there. Moreover today noone seems interested in the concept of wayward, idealistic youth rebelling against the establishment.<br /><br /><b>Achanurangatha Veedu</b>(2006) - After the blockbuster, Chanthupotte in 2005, no one expected Lal Jose to take up an offbeat subject, give it as commercial a treatment as possible and extract a fine understated, sensitive performance from over-the-top comedian, Salim Kumar, in the scripts of Babu Janardhanan, for whom this was a second birth in malayalam cinema. Devoid of any sort of melodrama, this film based on the Suryanelli sex scandal, tells the story of a christian-converted widowed clerk, bringing up his three daughters, of whom the youngest is his favorite and a good student. She goes missing one day and incidents from there throw the life of the family upside down and gradually destroys them. Not at all dragging or slow, and not senti-senti, which many people cited as a reason to avoid this movie, i must commend director, Lal for the final shot of the movie which leaves a lasting impression on the viewer. Undobutedly he is a filmmaker at the prime of his talents, as proved later by Classmates and Arabikatha, but unfortunately all the clout he commanded at the box office failed to save this one.<br /><br /><b>Nottam</b>(2006) - Everyone has listened several times to the wonderful Pachapanamthathe song in this movie. This movie is no less special for the wonderful performance of a handful of veterans of malayalam cinema, Nedumudi Venu, Jagathi Sreekumar and Gopakumar. A young man arrives in a village in Kerala to shoot a documentary on Theyyam accompanied by his friend, a native of the village. Nedumudi plays a traditional patriach who gives in, to videographing his performance, on the urging of his close friend and co-artist, Jagathi's insistence. Jagathi plays his age but comes up with a delightful performance which makes us smile(the malayalam world i use for his character is sarasan...jovial is a close parallel in english...but its not the same!) and then sad. Venu steels the scene in a spell-binding climax. Samvritha Sunil is lovable as the young, village belle. Directed by Sasi Paravoor, I felt gladdened, if only for consolation, that this movie won some awards also this year.<br /><br /><b>Akale</b>(2005) - Perhaps the first of many noteworthy performances from Prithviraj which went unnoted by the masses. Akale tells the story of a middle-aged, almost broken poet who is still trying to reconcile with his disjointed, cruel past while akcknowledging his present is crumbling. Akale is about Sheela, in the role of a nitwitty, pushy mother whose repeated attempts to straighten her young, helpess son who hates his day job drives him to drugs, alcohol and despair and prods her fragile, physically unable daughter, Geethu Mohandas to escape the confines of her house and find companionship and love, only succeeding in driving her deeper into a shell. A young man in the neighbourhood catches Sheela's eyes as a prospective groom for her daughter, but much to the despair and lack of faith of both her children, she succeds in getting them to agree to it and what follows is a touching portrayal of four human lives thrown amidst a cauldron of opposing emotions, one night. Brilliantly scripted and directed by Shyamaprasad, and photographed to drop-dead perfection by the veteran, S.Kumar and costumes by Kukku Parameshwaran, besides superb performances from Sheela, Geethu, Prithviraj and Tom George, this is a must-watch movie for all. Our movies have become too fast-paced recently, if you are willing to slow down your pace, you should enjoy the artistic powerhouse that is this movie. <br /><br /><b>Vargam</b>(2006) - If you are looking for the film, that for the first time opened a lot of Malayali eyes, to the talent and screen presence Prithviraj can command, it was this film. Out of theatres in a few weeks, but incredibly popular on torrent sites by word-of-mouth, this movie presents Prithvi as a never before seen policeman on malayalam screen. For the "superlatives" on his character refer to the passage on Prithvi above and I have nothing more to say. Scripted and directed by M.Padmakumar, on an evil cop's rough ride to salvation, the movie has slight similarities to his mentor, Ranjith's Devasuram, but saw Prithviraj improve his dialogue delivery and his physique to deliver a truely break-through performance.<br /><br /><b>Vasthavam</b>(2006) - Babu Janardhanan returned for the second time in 2006 and paired up with M.Padmakumar to tell a gripping tale of the rise and fall of an ordinary secretariat employee, who plots his way up the bureaucracy to become a powerbroker, but one by one, finds himself losing the people close to him and finally alone...all leading to a finely shot climax stunt sequence, filmed by upcoming cameraman Manoj Pillai. Prithviraj in leading role shows why he is the only young actor around with the flair to take up a multi-hued character whose personal life is in a muddle as he deserts his lady love for a marriage of convenience, seduces and then ditches a divorcee who gives him a helping hand in his career, ignores his wife and connives to draw his lady love closer to him, even apologizing for his behavior to his wife while still helplessly in love with another. His professional life is not much better either with problems recurring again and again, most of it of his own doing. Jagathy in an unforgettable character, of a benefactor to the lead character, draws our applause, smiles and thoughts, sometimes all these, even in the same dialogue. Good performances from Salim Kumar as the tottering businessman trying to shore up his fortune, Samvritha Sunil as the docile, all-suffering wife is a revelation and Kavya Madhavan as the lady love, who does a balancing act with Prithvi, even after her marriage, finally having enough of other people drawing the strings of her life.<br /><br /><b>Oruvan</b>(2006) - A badly scripted film which stood out for Indrajith's intense performance as a psychopath and debutant director, Vinoo Anand's deft handling of the subject and coming up with some finely shot scenes. <br /><br /><b>Pakal</b>(2006) - What I call an activist film. A young journalist goes to Wayanad to investigate farmer suicides and crop failures. He lays the blame squarely on the private money-lenders in the area and goverment's callousness and negligence when formulating policies. The film is taken us through the lives of some families, and introduces us to sitiations like women unable to find husbands, people who got overtaxed by uncaring offcials, people taking loans beyond their means, etc. Despite the good efforts of debutant drector Nishad, the script is too bad to give him a chance. Again if you are a Prithvi fan like me, you notice how, he manages to stay the course despite the uneven script.<br /><br /><b>Sancharam</b>(2005) - A brilliant movie set in a central-travancore village depicting the friendship between two girls growing gradually to the point they fall in love with each other, catch the attention of teachers and family, and are seperated, with the movie ending tantalizingly at a point where one girl stares down a waterfall and the other is about to tie the knot. Possibly, only the second malayalam film, about lesbianism, this film directed by NRK, Ligy Pullapally, stands out for good direction, very life-like dialogues, haunting background music, excellent camera-work and splendid performances by the two lead girls and the supporting cast. A must watch movie...one that deserved a lot of theatre time. <br /><br />--------------------------------------------------<br /><br />No apologies for this long post. I had to get it out of my system. I am no intellectual or know-it-all film critic. I just want people to open their eyes to the mediocrity before us. Good malayalam cinema is not dead...the movies i wrote about above are some of the good ones...small films we fail to know of, drowned in the worthless, pointless advertising, marketing, superstar-centric overdose that you and I are spoonfed in Kerala. I don't want Prithviraj or any other youngster to be a superstar in the future. The reason I loved his movies recently was that he played characters who are vulnerable, characters with flaws and faults, a leading hero who lets other characters also have scope to perform, even at the risk of outshining him. Mohanlal, Mammootty, Suresh Gopi, Dileep films are all about themselves. None of the acting talents of malayalam are allowed to shine in their movies, no slice of life of Kerala comes out in their movies, finally none of their characters look like you, or me, our parents, or any ordinary person in Kerala. It would be good if you remember the kind of films, they did earlier for us to put them up on such a high pedestal, now it would be equally good for us and our cinema, if we pulled these superheroes of Kerala down to our own level. Its just a suggestion! <br /><br /><b>P.S</b> - In the malayalam film, Rajavinte Makan which propelled Lal to stardom, a character delivers this line...<i>"Ente Achane Paranjaal Njan Sahikkum. Pakshe Ente Nethavine Paranjal..."</i>. On a discussion forum I saw a Lal fan use the same line, but substituting the Nethavu with Lalettan!!! Mohanlal is only a reel-hero, damnit...Jibyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07324353796946088382noreply@blogger.com30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8700519.post-85776291899539651892007-08-01T23:40:00.000-07:002008-12-11T13:10:18.785-08:00Antony, You Too Brutus!!!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu3GbpHF2WqsonKKBpyrc17BtnScZaerjoVgs0w8tnfy_VUXBms-fSsg2RPzBRo28OxPrq1VCqAjjBYKPNdMVEUgt6pEB354Y10ChJn7fURfRXROkoQxfa__-7V5F0huCZF1zVQQ/s1600-h/pic23074.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu3GbpHF2WqsonKKBpyrc17BtnScZaerjoVgs0w8tnfy_VUXBms-fSsg2RPzBRo28OxPrq1VCqAjjBYKPNdMVEUgt6pEB354Y10ChJn7fURfRXROkoQxfa__-7V5F0huCZF1zVQQ/s400/pic23074.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5093989731498837138" /></a><br /><br />Like Antony, who has now forsaken his mushinje naariya kadar shirt and mundu, even I made a decision few weeks back on my career...it was a choice my close ones suggested much earlier, but I rejected on the grounds of some principles, which today has been rendered obsolete by change. Change is good, change is a must for me...less than a year remains for me to face the choice i made...until then its my little secret. So, no questions asked!Jibyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07324353796946088382noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8700519.post-46616961189686358912007-07-11T03:17:00.000-07:002008-04-24T23:37:54.020-07:00A Selfish Existence...I was in the process of taking up another tag from Silverine but what struck me midway as I wrote it was I didn't know the real India of today at all to finish that post. And I digressed. When the summer began I had anticipated initiative, peace and drive to fill up in me. Nothing like that happened, beginnings were made but never finished. A little over 5 years have gone by since I stepped out of my home. In my heady youth filled with non-stop excitement I skipped the most important question of modern life - a career. No one warned me either. Everyone thought I'd figured it out already. The question came back to haunt me with a vengeance when I turned 25 and has seared my soul into searching for the answer ever since. Its almost 2 years and that search still goes on...<br /><br />A few days back I inadvertently caught myself in the midst of doing a tally up of my debt, duties and plans. It still revolved around money, money that will burn another few years of my precious twenties and a fleeting moment of disgust passed by before I returned to happier fancies. India has been in my thoughts but fact is I am a stranger even in my own home. For me, India is an IDEA. I haven't known what it is to work there, I havenot known the pinch of paying Rs.50 for a litre of petrol, of going to a wedding and being expected to gift nothing less than gold, of falling sick and reconciling to a huge medical bill. I am a simple fool who knows nothing of cost of living, all I think of is some dreams of returning to a glorified past, which today seems a make-believe nest weaved inside a cocoon built over years of effort put in by my parents. A few years back I warned my friends in trivandrum, Shan and Anoop that they were leading a too lavish lifestyle. Their reply was a lesson on New India that still fails to strike root in me. "When you spend more, the drive and ambition to earn more also increases"...this was the answer they gave me and it sent shock-waves through my antiquated system for a few seconds...I was still in the world of my parents and their generation who disparaged any wasteful expenses. <br /><br />When the accursed first discussion on my wedding plans came up and I replied with a fierce indignation which surprised me that I would marry only if I can live in India...Pops quoted me a desired earning of 1 lakh a month in trivandrum, for me to sustain the family and the high standard of living he has maintained so far. Should I do an MBA in India and get a firm foothold on home soil? The thought troubles me, because unlike the corporate-obsessed youngster I was a few years back, the same thought of working for them feels revolting nowadays. Which brings me to the status-quo. I go work, I come back, take a long nap, some days I hit the gym, other days I watch a good movie, browse for a while and then go back to the struggle of getting another few hours of sleep. I stay away from my friends in the US, much to their pain and anger, but they are from my past. My present is a struggle to thrash a way out for my future and the deluge of free advice I keep getting irritates me. I never thought the reclusive trait in me would resurface but it has. Solitude is bliss and the cellphone is a bitch. Reading has suffered and the booklist I had made up many months back to start on still awaits my perusal. Blogging works best when your mind is clear and thoughts flow in order, but its a churn in there and I unfortunately have sidelined this hobby too.<br /><br />I don't know and havent cared what picture of me people take out of this blog. I have been warned to stay away from writing personal or negative stuff on this blog because of some news-piduthakaar "anubhaavikal" back in Kerala and I acquiesced for a few months. But this blog is for me. It is to remind me years later of the person I was, the angst I've been through and the person I want to become. The weaknesses in me...it is time to kill it.Jibyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07324353796946088382noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8700519.post-87708587032801179032007-06-18T22:48:00.001-07:002007-06-18T23:07:02.574-07:00Never Been Kissed ;-)))Been tagged by the biggest brat in blogosphere, <a href="http://poomanam.blogspot.com/2007/06/pehla-nasha.html">Silverine</a>, to come up wth a post on one of the landmark moments of youth, the first kiss. I must warn y'all at the very outset that this post will be a big letdown if you expected to read my antics. Without further ado, lemme jump headlong into the story of a first kiss. My final semester of university, only one course to do, the job hunt yet to begin, I was mourning the coming end of my student days and readying for a farewell to all fun and frolic. That is when a bait to visit the Silicon Valley for the first time was thrown at me by my senior and good friend, P. P had a habit of dozing behind the wheels and needed company on the trip.<br /><br />San Jose - circa Jan 2004 - The trip as i casually mentioned was something more than that, P was getting married. S, his fiance, a Mallu ABCD, was an American citizen while P was on an H1B visa and the situation necessitated a legal wedding having to be registered. We arrived at S's house. There was some talking going on out of my earshot. P came out and asks, "Da, can you be the witness at the ceremony?" Most of S's family had to be at work that day and the rest were all minors. I gamely agreed and we left.<br /><br /><b>Clerk:</b> "I pronounce thee, man and wife".<br />(I click fotos, P & S are visibly relieved. That is when the bombshell drops.)<br /><b>Clerk:</b> "Now you may kiss the bride."<br /><b>P:</b> "Ayyo!" (He turns to me with a pathetic Enna Cheyyum Aliya look.)<br /><b>S:</b> (quickly pinches P on his arm hoping the clerk, an old woman couldnt see).<br /><b>Me:</b> (scratching my head, touching the wall, as though examing and smelling the fresh paint, unable to muffle my laughter. I get my camera ready.)<br />The clerk begins to wonder what is happening. Obiously the poor thing didn't know this was an arranged wedding and the church ceremony was yet to be held.<br /><br />P&S comes closer. I watch out of the corner of my eye with bated breath for the first kiss between two virtual strangers and that too indians, i was seeing in my lifetime, debating whether to snap a pic or not. P moved quick all of a sudden. S readies her lips. P makes a lunge, reaches her side, lands a peck on S's cheek and is back at base position in a matter of seconds. My fingers trembled and ruined the kodak moment that never found its way to pixeldom. The clerk's puzzlement had reached its zenith seeing my uncontrolled laughter now and i wondered if the sternness she now exhibited was a primer for an upcoming reprimand to me for spoiling the pristine moment.<br /><br />The newly married Mr.& Mrs.P sign the register followed by the witness, whose fingers still trembled from the unexpected thrill.<br /><b>Clerk:</b> "Phew! That was some wedding!" <br />The three of us made good our escape, redfaced with P making me promise, never to reveal this to anyone. <br /><b>Me:</b> Cheh...Chammi! Indiakaarude vela kalanjallo Annai! Itharinjaayirunnel namukke coaching erpaduthaamaayirunnu.<br /><b>P</b> Mindipokaruthe. Ithe neeyo njano allaathe moonamathoraal arinjaal anne ninte anthyam!<br /><br />Anyways this is one promise i break for the sake of a kiss. If you guys thought you would get to read me in action...so sorry to disappoint...too many nosey parkers from tvm haunt this blog...anonymity is a luxury i would have loved to afford for this tag!Jibyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07324353796946088382noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8700519.post-50233562507177770182007-06-04T12:42:00.000-07:002007-06-04T14:33:13.614-07:00Anecdotes from the Loyola Days...This was one of the initiatives that served as a precursor to my blogging days. Initially written just for my classmates, I saw its universality and propped it up on the net following which I have recieved appreciation not just from Loyolites, but also people from other schools in Trvandrum, who admired our batch's wild ways, for compiling this ode to our heroics, villainy and foolishness. Recently I recollected more anecdotes and its becoming a pain keeping my ancient tripod home page going, as it gets pulled down every few months. Ever since Blogger started labels, I have itched to place this crown jewel of my campus memoirs at the very top of my Campus Nostalgia category. Moreover a desire to rewrite the jokes, conforming to rules of better english grammar had been preying my mind. So finally after 3 years this revamped write-up comes to its final resting place.<br />-------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><br />Thomman and ponnan go to the cyber cafe on his first vacation from nda to check his email.after some time he goes to the owner and in anger says " anna enikke mail check cheyyaan pattunnilla". the guy walks over to see wht the problem is and much to the cafeowner's total bewilderment and ponnans unmuffled laughter finds that thomman types in www.ninanthomas.com and expects all his emails to pop up on the screen.later thomman threatens ponnan with dire consequences if this is revealed and it took 2 yrs for ponnan to muster the courage to reveal. The irony is that the armymen gifted him with a B.Sc in Computer Science from the much-vaunted JNU for his physical and "mental" exertions at NDA.<br /> <br />Motta and Dadu are in animated conversation while Joy Sir is teaching. joy sir looking at them says "hello" intending to put a stoop to their banter. Motta immediately puts his fist to his ear as if holding a fone and asks "hello aara samsaarikkunnathu". Joy sir is stumped!<br /><br />Mr.Madhusoodhanan Nair(our "beloved" 9th st malayalam teacher) is holding fort and he asks a question to vince in class..."marangalude upayogangal vivarikkuka" and vincekuttan after great thought gives the answer which would have made his pre-historic ancesators proud..."vanya mrigangal kattaalanmaare akramikkan varumbam avarke keri olikkaan marangal sahaayikkum".We broke out laughing uncontrollably hearing his answer and madhu in his trademark punch line says "entha , avan paranjathil oru paayint ille?"<br /><br />DP asks Leelu to give a character sketch of Rosalind(the heroine of Shakespeare's Twelfth Night). Leelu who had then embarked on a mission to understand the female psyche better after countless failures by reading women's mags gave the shortest, most perfect answer to a question the rest of us would have spent minutes explaining...that Rosalind was a woman of substance!<br /><br />Muthu on the fone to jaru: incidentally its jacob's father who is most of the time at sea picks up the fone and says hello. Muthu replies back "enthaada hellokke ithrem kaduppam"<br /><br />Motta calls up thommans house and asks for ninan. thommans dad's name also being ninan responds..."yes ninan speaking". Motta immediately starts a theri abhishekam. Uncle realizes the call is meant for his virtuous son and says,"hold cheyye njan ninane kodukkaam" and motta learnt to be careful next time on.<br /><br />Abba calls up jabbans house and in his trademark way asks,"hello jibbbby ondo". Jabbans grandfather picks up the fone and says, " ninakke ethe hippye aada vende"<br /><br />Those were the times of great debates in our class btw mammooty-mohanlal, azhar-sachin, juhi-manisha fans and we reached a consenus by having polls. Chairman one day decided to stretch things too far when he demanded the mother-of-all-polls to find out from the guys whether anil kapoorinaano babu antonykkaano kooduthal glamour!!! Funny part is chairman still cant understand why we cruelly rejected his poll!<br /><br />After joy sir's tuition we have a nice beautiful walk through a village to reach school. We started scaring puppy that the ppl here were staunch communists and one of us shouted out "oru congress manthriyude makan ivide onde" and as if on cue from one of the huts somebody said,"kathi edukkada". We looked around noone was there. On turning back we had the fun of our life seeing Puppy run for his life. Since then Puppy never walked that way with us!<br /><br />China once took the goal kick for his team during games period. What happened next was unbelievable. The ball went back over his head and into the goal post which he was supposed to be guarding. The whole class laughted so much we ended up lying on the ground clutching our stomachs. Thankfully for him those where the days before we heard of match fixing.<br /><br />At tuition, China once saw a gal getting onto the pillion of her dad's bike. He immediately shouted to alert us..."aa kale nokkada"...when we turned someone had come in front of us and all we could see was her dad's musular leg which was bared as he wearing a mundu! Since then whenever we chance upon a well-built guy someone would throw a poke at china, "Entha Chinae, nottamonda?"<br /><br />Then there was the homo in pongummodu who chased ponnan whenever they set eyes on each other owing to Ponnan's legendary "butter-bun" and once even had the guts to walk into china's house and grab him while our jackie chan was washing his car(neigh "kuthira" in jayan style) and china bet the pulp out of him.<br /><br />Ponnan always gave gays the creeps and once he accepted a lift from this guy on the bike who after a few minutes slid his arm behind and touched ponnan where it mattered most. Ponnan in his trademark style which only we guys can imitate says "ehhh, enthuvaaaado ithe" to which the man says "ithonnum ishtamille?" and ponnan shouts out "vandi nirthedo...njan erangattu".<br /><br />Pothan gets into a ksrtc bus for the first time and when the conductor came over, he said " oraalke ulloor vareyolla oru roopede oru ticket" and the conductor is like "ivan aareda".<br /><br />Pothen couldn't read malayalam properly in those days. He got into a bus whose board he found to read KizhakeKotta...finally the bus took him to the most inaccessible of all places in trivandrum...PulayanarKotta!!!<br /><br />Pothan used to have a driver taking him to all the tuitions and once in 10th jaru who was with him criticized him for something he did. Pothan immediately says..."driver vandi nirthe...Jaru get out!!!" ...right in the middle of nowhere. funniest thing is the pothen of then and now bears no resemblence except for the fat.<br /><br />Pothen's dad once came to drop pothen at tuition and comes over to us to make small talk. That is when a jet streaks through the sky and puli as we called him then exclaims in english "Look,a rocket!" and we burst out laughing leaving him chammufied. And to think he is an engineer!<br /><br />During some program in school..Chakka the announcer says "I thank the chief guest on behalf of the auditorium!"<br /><br />Ammavan another announcer allegedly used to do this...he would shout through the mic "Agil is needed at the announcer's desk immediately" and then slip away and walk back very importantly in front of all the junior school kids who adored him.<br /><br />During a rain-hit basketball match the non-teaching staff was mopping the court and ammavan not playing that year and sorely missing the limelight wants something to do and helps with the cleaning...Fr.Mani, our princi then totally unhappy with agil's cleaning technique..and famous for his anger...walks over and gives him a merciless scolding takes the cleaning sack and shows how it is to be done...with the whole school watching with unbridled joy from the quadrangle steps, the needless labours of a dictatorial princi and his over-enthu student.<br /><br />Ammavan got selected in the 8th itself for the school basketball team and motta would make fun of him saying his main duty in the team was say "vyaasa(our captain then)...vellam".<br /><br />Fr.Maani, our princi is taking class and he catches Kozhi talking and tells him to stand up. Then he launches a tirade against Kozhi but Kozhi maintains his typical, cool smile throughout. Finally not being able to control his rage anymore Mani shouts out "Stop that cynical smile!"...only to make matters worse as we also start laughing now!<br /><br />Once one of our guys chanced to read one of raman's essays in his english answere paper. We noiced a sentence circled out by DP. The essay was about an unforgettable day in your life. The offending line went like this..."the boys talked and made noise as though the bus belonged to their fathers"! Raman's justification for this was that "dont we say in malayalam...Ninte Achanteyannoda Ee Bus!!!"<br /><br />Appu had written a superb essay for the same exam mentioned above and DP impressed by his talent thought of making use of it. She asked him to write a letter requesting permission for an industrial visit. Peri produced the letter the next day but poor DP was totally horrified to find her new promising find had made 15 spelling and gramatical mistakes in the one paragraph letter that she remarked "how will the gal u marry trust you with her life?"<br /><br />Chairman, Abba and Gundu are walking through statue with a gal in holy angels from their tuition. Chairman is determined to strike a chord in the gal thru sentiments says stuff like nobody likes him or wants him. With no warning right in the heart of the city and amid hundreds of ppl the gal starts crying hearing sreehari's sob story. Abba and gundu are scared to death and run away leaving chairman to do the job of comforting her.<br /><br />During the contact class, thomman, ponnan, jabban and muthu enter a really expensive restaurant at kochi...immediately 4 chicken fried rice and something new they had never see before and the most costly item in the menu,barbecue quail was ordered. With mouth watering up in anticipation, the guys started deciding where on the table everything would be kept and which part of the quail each guy would take. Finally when everything comes they see the fried rice they ordered came in 4 small cups and the quail was the smallest,thinnest chicken they ever saw. Thomman takes up the quail by its legs, looks at in dismay, points us to a protruding peice between its thighs and remarks, "ithananne thonnunnu kozhiyude sunayi...ithaarkku venam"? After 400 bucks spent and pockets and stomachs empty we swore on vengeance and for the next contact class 8 of us went in..order 2 fresh lime and 8 straws and came out tipping the same old waiter 5ps.<br /><br />At the restaurant above, the four mandanmaar sat awaiting their food. The waiter was pouring water into their glasses. Some soft music is playing in the room. To show off his range in songs in front of the other guys, Jabban says, "Country Music". The waiter looks up shocked and stares at jabban who cringes. The guys pick up the cue and laugh uncontrollably while thomman within earshot of the angry waiter responds,"Eda Jabba, lavanmaar americayil ninnu hashbush paatukal konduvannathe neeyaayitte tharayaakiyallode" and all hapless jabban can respond is "Sathyamaayittu...enne vishwasikke...ithe Country Music aane!" <br /><br />Chairman, dadu and motta had a crush on the same gal studying in st.thomas. Everyone resorted to different tactis to win her attention. Motta befriended her younger bro studying in our school, Dau made it a point to attend the same tuitions she went to. Chairman whose ex-classmate this gal was in another school, on his part instituted a planning board(that's how he got this name) with abba,gundu, annan,saami and raman as members to observe who she looks at when our school bus went by hers'.<br /><br />Then there was bimbu who until the 10th thought that babies were born thru the mouth.<br /><br />And we had kicha..our genius in all things who wasted an entire roll of film bcoz he thought by taking fotos which could capture a bird flying whose reflection on the lake to ganesh's glasses would be the next biggest thing in the world of fotography ending up with 30 blank fotos in the end.<br /><br />Leelu was crazy abt this gal in holy angels and one day decided he would go talk to her, whatever happens. At pongummode he deliberately bumped into her and said in one breath..."hi i am arun studying in loyola..u must be Poo$%". Guess wht she replies. So what should I do...and our poor leelu was left licking his wounds....again.<br /><br />Once we went trekking to Meenmooti and muthu as lazy as ever is finding it tough to climb a small ridge.khaja directly ahead of him is using a creeper, hugging the surface to move on. Muthu clings on to khaja hoping khaja will drag him up. Khaja immediately gave the most stunning repartee we ever heard..."uriyil thoongunnavante pariyil thoongunnoda"! Tired as we were, we threw our bags on the forest floor and broke out into several minutes of unbridled laughter.<br /><br />On a trip to ponmudi...it was raining...and naga is havin a harrowing time on his bike, he had already fallen off twice...once of all things a creeper fallen on to the road trips him. and the third time a fast passenger comes along and he makes way for it to go by going too much to the left and falls. the bus driver stops beside him and says with a smile "mone oru bus koodi ithile varunnunde". All naga can respond is "Thankyou saare!"<br /><br />At meenmooti we camped for the night at a cave but we suddenly remembered we didnt have any garlic to ward off the snakes. Naga saved us the trouble by starting a vomitting spree and we made him form a lakshmana rekha around us. Thanks to the odour not even an ant came anywhere nearby during the night.<br /><br />During the contact class at kochi we were hanging around the marine drive. A flying squad sees us and comes closer. A foreigner steps out of the jeep looks, inspects us carefully and turns to the cops and points at jofu and says "He is the man. He is the thief. Those same big, white teeth" and a cowering jofu responds "I...I no thief...I, I student of loyola".<br /><br />In 7th standard V.C teaches us that "mole is the short form of molecule". In 8th Manorama M'am says u guys must be knowing wht a mole is and we all shout out to impress her..."Mole is the short form of molecule"...leaving her flabbergasted and asking..."who taught you that"...and when we told her..she is left in total despair.<br /><br />C.T, our PT sir, during basketball coaching telling us..."divide into four halves".<br /><br />Rajamma madam in 6th standard sees abu talking and asks..."ey abu whaaat do u waant"...abu replies.."madam i want an icecream."<br /><br />Bangu in his 6th standard composition on "My Birthday Party"...wrote..."I had porridge for my birthday party...", thinking porridge was some delicacy..not knowing it was kanji.<br /><br />Thomman had a crush on this St.Thomas gal who was his neighbour. One day he was walking up the road by her house and he saw her inside combing her hair. He jumped the wall, stood by the window and just stared admiring forgetting all sense of time and place. Suddenly she turned, saw him, without any shock or surprise to see him by the window, asks, "Enthaa??"...Thomman shrugs his shoulders....blinks his eyes...turns around, jumps back out over the wall, and walks away like in a hynotic spell! Atleast this is his version of the story...his guts is unparalleled, so is his knack for tall tales...and we never had the courage to cross-check with the gal in question, what really happened.<br /><br />Jaru playin football is the funniest sight..he would come running from miles away to kick the ball and everyone would move away scared to even be in the path of what would be a powerful shot and he finally ends up running over the ball totally missing it.<br /><br />Raman sees a chinese model on chairman's 10th std notebook.he asks him..ithaarade... chariman tells him..."silk smitha"....and he responds..."ithaanalle silk smitha" and from then on he was called mandan raman.<br /><br />Dear Fr.Pulickal's history exams were met with dread in our class. He would pick up blunders from our papers and post it on the school notice board for everyone to read with the culprits names also. Some of the blunders which the passage of time still hasnt eroded from our memories are<br />- Rani Laxmi Bai had no male natural hair! (Paili wuz the villain)<br />- The 1857 War was fought by the British to get Independence from India<br />- Elections are held by secret bullet.<br />(if any of u remember more of the blunders we made let me know)<br /><br />Pulickal father launching a tirade against princi in class..."angere ayaalude andiyude shapeil oru fish tank ondaakeetonde"...as luck would have it princi walked by right then...they stare at each other and we are scared a fight would break out...fr.thayyil folds his hands and walks away with a small smile on his face and we are left wondering abt their curious chemistry.<br /><br />Bazoo and Pothen had a fight in Std.8 but none of us bothered to mediate or find out the problem. A few hours later Pulickal strides into the class with a disgusted expression on his face. "Ninakkoke njan kore standard theri padippikkaam. Melaal immathiri chavarumaayitte ente aduthe varalle." And he proceeded to give us our first official class on obscenities. It was hilarious to say the least. The reason...Bazoo calls Pothen Blood Basket...Pothen responds by calling him Bloody Bus-stand...and they proceed with the case to none other than Puli!!! <br /><br />Bazoo used to go for a tuition where owing to his extraordinary IQ he was the otherwise strict teacher's pet. But unfortunately for Bazoo the sir had a beautiful daughter from whom Bazoo could never take his eyes off. One day she passed by the tuition room, Bazoo's eyes followed her, the sir notices his distracted pupil and in his typical, high-pitched shrieks, "Bazoo, look here, look here"!!!<br /><br />Muthu's mother is taking a young cousin of his for admission at loyola with the boy's parents. Muthu's mom is waxing eloquent about her son and the parents are impressed about muthu's prowess. That is when they run into Pulickal who sees muthu's mother and says..."Ningade makan rekshappedathilla...Avan historykke veendum thottu!!!" Muthu's mom struggles to wipe the sweat and shame off her face.<br /><br />Paili and paramu in 7th are goin doubles on a cycle thru Vellayambalam and become ada to a scooterist and all 3 fall down. The man is very angry and he asks how can u big boys be so careless. To escape paramu tells him they are only in the 4th and the man softens down. That is when paili says..."eda nammal 7thil alle"...the man says..."paavam veenathinte aaghaathathil ethu classil padikkunnathu marannannu thonnunnu"....and paramu breathes a sigh of relief and paili is still confused.<br /><br />In 10th standard...thomaskutty sir asks china wht is bacteria...apparently a simple question...he starts of confidently..."Bacteria is a microscopic organism..." and falters there...that is when someone prompts from behind...suspect that it is gani...that it cannot be seen with the naked eye...china not knowing wht that phrase meant and suspecting gani made a small mistake in his prompt but still having trust on the gani's judgement...finishes his answer with.."and bacteria cannot be seen by a naked man's eye!" That was one of the most hilarious biology periods ever.<br /><br />The gal who cried at statue had a lot of admirers in our class like annan, chairman and raman. The guys noticed that whenever plans were made for movies, games, etc annan had started to excuse himself regularly everytime with a strange excuse..."ente oru thengum purayadathil, thenga pothikkan pokanam" and once after tuition he used this excuse and left while chairman and the other guys proceeded to the above said gal's house and surprised on seeing our new romeo, annan at his flame's place, chairman in anger and jest tells the gal, "Ivide thenga kedappondo...ivan nannayi pothiche tharum"!!!<br /><br />In 1996 AniyathiPravu released and went on to run for a record 250 days in trivandrum, and we soon found out the reason for that. Every guy in our class had watched the movie 4-8 times at the theatre. That is when a friend in Sarvodaya shocked us by saying he watched the movie 28 times and that he saw Bazoo too at 18 of the shows!!! When quizzed, Bazooka, our prodiguous geek, revealed he had watched the movie a total of 30 times, from its releasing centre at Kripa, thru its first change at Pattom Kalpana, followed by our very own "hometheatre", Sreekaryam Joshi crowning his odyssey with a last lap at Kazhakootam Maharaja!!! Oh man...we were one crazy set of buggers.<br /><br />Bazoo had this unbearable crush for this amazingly beautiful gal in St.Thomas. He didnt like the convential route everyone else was taking and got our daredevil, Thomman's advice on how to proceed in a revolutionary manner. Thomman tells him to walk towards the gal, stick his tongue out, then slowly pull it back and rub it over his lips in a sensuous manner. Bazooka soon finds the gal coming in his way, and does the job. Next day, the gal goes over to one of our guys, suspect it was Muthu who she was friends with and in a very concerned manner asks..."Did I hurt your friend bazoo in any way. Yesterday he stuck his tongue out and blared his lips and teeth at me in a threatening way." Muthu can't control his laughter and she adds..."to tell you the truth, he looked like a monkey at that moment." When thomman came to hear of this all he can say is, "Eda panna bazoo, nee ente paavanamaaya number ithrekke chalamaakiyallo"!<br /><br />GG House was in a neck and neck race with JJ house to avoid relegation to the 4th spot in the Youth Festival. GG didnt have a participant for the Fancy Dress Competition. That is when Jaru struck upon an idea and found a hesitant prey in Pappachan. The costume was readied in no time and the event started. Pappachan comes out wearing a coat whose cuffs fell shorter than his wrist and a pant which didnt even reach his ankles and dusty, almost worn out shoes which failed the frantic black polishing it receieved prior. "Wow, we thought...jaru is a genius...Pappachan as a tramp...now who could have thought of that...he lives the role". That is when the thundering announcement fell upon the unwitting auditorium which had almost begun to cheer, "GG House presents Pappachan as Michael Jackson!!!". Thriller began to play from Joseph Uncle's sound system, Pappachan begins to wave at the crowd...loud hooting and catcalls can be heard including a shout from one of our guys..."pappacha, ineem moonwalk"...poor pappachan runs away all red-faced and we have to date never spared him the blushes and jaru the plotter joins in the laughter smugly with a njanonnum arinjille ramanarayana attitude! <br /><br />For malayalam exams we have a question...shailikal(metaphors) upayogiche make sentences.One of the shailikal was baalikeramala(which i think means something difficult to do) paili's sentence for balikeramala-"randam loka maha yudhathila america japante balikeramalayil bomb ittu". <br /><b>AMDG</b><br /><br />P.S- No real names used. Only nicknames. Some of the protagonists in these stories have sworn at the altar of decency and gentlemandom and have experienced selective amnesia, especially now that they are hot market property! My apologies if despite all precautions taken, i still manage to cause pre or post-marital damages and discord. <br />-------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><br />(AMDG - Ad Majorem De Glorium - For the Greater Glory of God!) With these 4 letters which didnt make sense to us, scribbled at the end, Fr.Pulickal encouraged us to wind up our answer paper in exams...we did it, hoping against hope that those 4 letters would compensate for an almost blank history answer paper coupled with the strictest valuation possible and save us from sure failure. This is a tribute to that man who opened the world of humour to us and taught us to laugh at ourselves. Fr.Pulickal...you are still fondly remembered. This is also a tribute to a <a href="http://www.ashok.loyolites.com/2007/06/02/deepa-pillai-resigns-from-loyola/">great teacher</a> who shepherded us admirably in the Plus Two years where a great majority of the above recounted incidents happened...DP was as much a part of our class as every one of my classmates. And Loyola...Long Live the school which gave us all the freedom for what we wanted to be and do. Finally The ISC'98 Batch...you guys were the best...you guys continue to evoke great spirit and cheer!Jibyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07324353796946088382noreply@blogger.com25